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  After the Brinks departed, exhaustion overcame Dahlia. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to spoon a small bowl of the chicken broth down Nathan. Once she settled him for the night, she prepared her bed in front of the stove as she had the night before. With the door left open so she could hear him, Dahlia used one of the blankets as a pallet and covered herself with her cape and the quilt she brought from home. As her hip and shoulder bones grated against the wood of the floor while she drifted into sleep, the thought came to her that she needed to accumulate rags so she could braid and stitch together a rug. Nathan’s cut-apart shirt with the blood stains she had been able to mostly wash out would be a start.

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  Chapter 19

  ~o0o~

  December 24, 1881

  A s soon as Herbert Price walked through the door to his office, Royce braced himself for the confrontation ahead. He wished nothing more than to close the office and drive his sleigh to the boarding house to pick up Lizett Millard for the special Christmas Eve supper he arranged to have catered at his house by some of the River Valley Inn’s staff. Unfortunately, he must get this disagreeable business taken care of first.

  A scowl on his face, Herbert approached the desk. “How come I was told I need to come here to get my pay?”

  Royce’s fingers itched to wrap themselves around the man’s neck and shake him until Herbert crumpled at his feet. However, he knew nothing he did could force any sense into his head. Instead, with arms folded and fingers tightened into fists, Royce leaned back in his chair. He deliberately did not offer a chair to Herbert.

  As he studied the man’s face in an effort to gauge his level of sobriety, Royce’s eyes narrowed. Although he knew Herbert had not yet started drinking this evening, he also suspected the man came to work most mornings feeling the effects of alcohol. “I need to talk to you about the accident in the mine, Mr. Price.”

  Herbert scrunched his face even more. “I didn’t have nothing to do with that.”

  “Didn’t you? Let’s make sure. You’ve been working here for over a year now. Tell me your understanding of how things work in the mine.”

  Wearing a bewildered expression, Herbert shook his head. “What are you getting at? You own this mine. You ought to know how it works.”

  Royce sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. “We work the mine in two shifts, right? You were hired to work second shift as a mucker. What did your job entail?”

  Herbert shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. “We…uh…we used our shovels and loaded up and hauled out all the rock in the mine.” He tripped over his words as if he suspected Royce had asked a trick question. “Anything we could tell was slag, we put to one side. The rest went in a pile to get loaded onto the train.”

  Royce continued speaking with exaggerated patience. “And if you hauled the rock out every night, where did the new rock in the mine come from that was there each evening when you arrived at work?”

  “I guess from the men working on the first shift.”

  “You guess? You’ve been working on first shift these past two weeks. After you drill your holes for the day, what happens?” Clenching his jaw in frustration, Royce watched Herbert shrug and look around the mine office, as if hoping to find the answer somewhere on the walls.

  “The guys in charge of blasting put the dynamite inside the holes we drill and string the fuse lines, then set them off.”

  “All right. And what happens in the mine before any blasting is done?”

  Another shrug. “Dunno.”

  “Are you, or any of the crew, inside the mine when the dynamite goes off?”

  “Naw. Declan sends us to the warm shack before the blasters light the fuses.”

  “Are any men left working anywhere else in the mine when it is time to blast?”

  “Dunno. Seems like there’s a lot of men in the warm shack changing clothes, though.”

  Barely hanging on to what little patience he still possessed, Royce stood up, placed his palms on the top of his desk, and leaned forward. “That’s because one of the jobs of the crew managers is to clear their men out of the mine first. All of the crews in all of the levels and all of the working drifts of the mine are cleared out of the mine before any blasting is done. With the men out, no one is at risk of being injured in the explosions, and no one is breathing the thick clouds of dust which are mostly settled by the time second shift has had their time in the warm shack changing before they enter the mine to work.”

  “Yeah, I got that. So, why are you telling me all this instead of giving me my pay?”

  Royce arose to his full height and walked around his desk until he stood within three feet of Herbert, towering over him. “Because a week ago Tuesday—you remember that day, Mr. Price? It was the day your brother was injured in a mining blast that took place while the men were still in the mine. On that Tuesday, someone set off a charge in that one drift the men had stopped mining—the one that was abandoned because it is almost on top of the stope the men on level one are working. Blasting in that part of level two was weakening the ceiling of the stope below, and we wanted level one opened to the center of the vein before we continued following the vein in that direction on level two.”

  Herbert stiffened his shoulders and raised his chin. “What does that got to do with me?”

  “Because you disappeared for a time. Declan gave you your work assignment and returned to the men working the other end of the drift. When he went back to check, he found the start of the spiral where he had set to you to drill holes, but you were nowhere to be seen. He retraced his steps to see if he missed you, but when he returned, he found you drilling, a half-smoked cigar in your mouth.”

  “Yeah, well, I took a break to—you know. Decided I needed a smoke, too.”

  “Where did you take your so-called break?”

  His eyes darting side to side, Herbert again shrugged, this time not so casually. “You know, somewhere private.” The tenor of his voice changed. “I just started on first shift the day before because Declan said he was short-handed and needed me. I wasn’t used to swinging that four-pound hammer. My shoulder was sore, and I got tired, but Declan kept saying I had to keep working if I wanted to stay on first shift. I just needed to rest a few minutes.”

  Royce cringed as the whine so typical of Herbert Price laced his latest excuse. His teeth clenched, Royce stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms.

  Herbert made it sound like he was doing Declan McNeill a favor by agreeing to work in his crew on first shift. The truth of the matter was, Herbert had been disgruntled about men hired after him in the beginner’s mucking job being promoted to working first shift ahead of him. Royce knew Herbert had badgered Declan for months to be allowed to move up to first shift. “What can you tell me about that blast that went off in the abandoned drift on level two?”

  A wary expression still on his face, Herbert hesitated. “Dunno. Maybe a powder monkey dropped a stick of dynamite there when it was still being worked, and it went off.”

  Royce chose his words carefully. “It may be possible that, once the decision was made to stop work there, a powder monkey had brought a load of dynamite, and then either he or some of the crew overlooked a stick when they brought it back out. However, it did not self-ignite. Someone deliberately set that charge the day of the explosion.”

  Herbert narrowed his eyes and, fists clenched, took a defensive step back. “You can’t blame me for that. I didn’t do nothing.”

  “You didn’t set off that blast that caused the cave-in down in level one—the one that injured three men, including your brother?”

  Herbert tossed his head side-to-side in denial. “No. Besides, he’s my stepbrother.”

  Royce heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I’m through dancing around this, Mr. Price, especially since I know you’re lying through your teeth. You see, after that blast, we cleared the mine
so we could focus on getting the injured men out. The muckers were put to work helping with the rescue, plus clearing the mess in level one so we could see what happened down there. They were specifically told to not touch the blasted material at the end of the abandoned drift on level two. Declan, under the direction of my brother, Clive, has been working that pile in the abandoned drift on level two, rock by rock, by himself, to discover what happened.

  “Here’s what they found: a section of rock was blasted away, but by the pattern left on the working surface, the drill hole was not deep enough to hold the stick of dynamite properly. They also found a half-burnt match and a line of ignited fuse.”

  Herbert’s expression deepened into a scowl. “So? Why’re you telling me this? You can’t prove it was me.”

  “Can’t I?” Royce walked around the desk and opened the top side drawer. He picked up a small object which he then dropped in the middle of his desk blotter. “We also found this.”

  As he lunged forward, hand outstretched, Herbert sucked in his breath. “My lucky nickel.”

  Royce slammed his palm flat over the bent nickel before Herbert could reach it. With his other hand, he shoved the man away from his desk. “The luck on this nickel has run out, at least, for you.”

  “No! Give it back. It’s mine.”

  “I’ll give you two nickels to replace it. This one was found in my mine, and it belongs to me now. I’m keeping this, along with statements from several men who knew it once belonged to you, as proof that this was your coin at the time, and it was found at the bottom of the debris from an illegal blast.” Royce ignored the fear now evident in Herbert’s face. “You’re fired, Mr. Price. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You are to go to the mine boarding house, pick up your gear, and leave Prosperity Mine land. I’m giving you enough of your pay for you to find a room in town and meals to last you until Monday night, which is when you’ll get the rest of your wages. You may celebrate in town as long as you behave yourself so the sheriff doesn’t find cause to toss you in jail.”

  Royce handed him a portion of his pay.

  Herbert studied the money placed in his palm, and then, wearing an incredulous expression, he looked up until his gaze met that of Royce’s. “It’s Christmas. There’s not enough here for a good night at the Silver Dollar.”

  “The Silver Dollar Saloon is on mine property and now off-limits to you. The only time you are allowed to come back on this side of the river is Monday night, just after second shift starts. Until then, there will be unpleasant consequences for you if I see you back here.”

  “What a rotten thing to do to me at Christmas.”

  Royce heaved a sigh and shook his head. “You did it to yourself when you ignored Declan McNeill’s orders and wandered where you had no business going. That would have been enough to cost you your job, or at least to demote you back to second shift as a mucker. But, the unauthorized blast in the abandoned drift—there’s no coming back from that.”

  Herbert rolled his shoulders in defeat and stuffed the money in his pocket. “But I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen. I was just helping with the blasting. What happened on level one was an accident.”

  “Enough excuses, Mr. Price. It is up to the crew managers working under the owners to make those kinds of decisions, not you. Your actions injured three good men. I will be notifying the larger mines all up and down Colorado about this incident and your role in it. Your mining days are over.”

  Royce paused and rubbed his temples. “I had quite the dilemma, Mr. Price. By last Tuesday night, we had completed the investigation and felt there was conclusive evidence it was you who set off that blast. My brother was all for firing you and kicking you out of here right then. I talked him and Mr. McNeill into waiting and letting you work until the end of the week, only because, first, it is Christmas this week, and second, I knew you could not get out by train until the tracks were cleared. They grudgingly agreed. Declan said he’d keep a close eye on you so you’d cause no more problems.”

  Herbert shook his head. “Yeah, the man really made me boil the way he was on me like ticks on a dog.”

  “Now you know the reason. We’ve allowed you to work so you’re leaving town with what will be left of a full week’s pay. The rails are now cleared enough that the regular engine is going to follow the construction engine up to Gunnison City tonight to make sure everything on it is repaired and it’s running smooth. The passenger train with another engine is coming here Monday. Once it reaches Gunnison City, the regular engine is going to make a special nighttime run back to Pueblo, stopping here so it can pick up and haul some of our ore cars to the smelter. Everything has been piling up, and we have to get our silver out of here. It will not have passenger cars, but I’ve arranged for a special ticket to allow you to ride in the caboose as far as Pueblo.”

  “Don’t want to go to Pueblo. Nothing for me there.”

  Royce ignored the surliness in Herbert’s voice. “Too bad. I don’t owe you a train ticket, but I’ll do Jubilee Springs a favor by getting you out of town to where you can find work in a larger city. After you clear your gear out of the boarding house, if you want, you can check with the head of the Denver & Rio Grande crew that is prepared to ride the construction train out in about an hour or so. See if he has work for you this winter. I doubt it, though. From what I hear, the construction crew is pretty much snowed in until spring thaw. However, you can at least ask if he’ll have work for you next year. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

  Wearing a bewildered expression, Herbert tossed his hands in the air. “Where am I supposed to go with this little bit of money? It’s Christmas.”

  “Not my problem. Some miners save for emergencies. Check with the boarding house across from the train depot. Now, go, Mr. Price. I’ll give you half an hour to get your belongings off Prosperity Mine land. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll have you locked in an unheated storage building until I can personally put you on the train leaving Jubilee Springs Monday night.”

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  Chapter 20

  ~o0o~

  December 25, 1881

  D ahlia pulled the loaf of bread out of the oven. She checked the small beef roast cooking on her stovetop. She had asked Declan to buy it using some of the money remaining from the travel money Nathan had sent her. With Nathan having eaten the last of the chicken broth the night before, the beef broth she now prepared would help sustain him the next few days.

  Dahlia removed her apron and looked down at her pink dress—the one she had made for her wedding. She originally planned to save it until she and Nathan could reaffirm the wedding vows she had made in the proxy wedding. However, that morning, in an effort to fight homesickness from being away from her family on Christmas day, and to ward off the depression that threatened to overwhelm her due to her husband remaining in a comatose state, she had decided to wear the dress to celebrate the holiday.

  She turned and entered the bedroom where she stood at the foot of the bed. That morning, Harold had helped her position Nathan partially on his right side. She rubbed a hand on the blanket covering his left foot. “It’s Christmas day, Nathan. It snowed yesterday, making our yard look like a winter miracle. The sun has been out, but it looks like it might cloud up again soon.”

  As she watched his left hand under the blanket slide forward, Dahlia paused. Ever since Dr. Sprague had removed the bands protecting the broken clavicle, Nathan occasionally moved his left hand and arm. Dr. Sprague had instructed her to avoid putting weight on his left shoulder but to otherwise leave it free so he could move it if he was able. Dahlia had shown the doctor how she used to stretch and exercise her father’s leg when he was too ill to move. He, in turn, showed her ways she could also work Nathan’s arms and joints to keep them limber.

  Dahlia lifted the blanket and top sheet far enough to expose Nathan’s foot and half his calf. She ran her fingers from his anklebone up his calf as she studied
the dark hairs that grew on his leg. She inhaled at the realization of how much thinner his legs were to what she remembered when the men first brought Nathan to her. She thought back on her father’s thigh, especially after the second amputation, and how much smaller in girth it was compared to the one on his whole leg he still used to support himself with the aid of crutches. She realized, if Nathan did not regain consciousness soon so he was able to move more, and possibly stand for a few minutes at a time, he would continue to lose strength in his muscles. She hated the thought of the struggle he must then go through to bring them back to normal. “You need to come back to us, Nathan. I know you’re getting better, but I’ll feel so relieved when you are conscious and can do more.”

  As the thought entered her mind, Dahlia sucked in her breath. She rushed to Nathan’s chest she had dragged into the front room, along with hers, and threw the lid open. She shuffled through his collection of personal items until her fingers closed around the bundle of letters she sought. She lifted them to her nose. They still held the scent.

  Dropping the lid back in place, she returned to the room, closing the door to the noticeably colder room behind her. She approached the bed, and with her left hand brushing his too-long hair from his forehead, she held the papers beneath his nostrils. “I’m Dahlia. You wrote to me and asked me to come here. Remember the odor on my letters? I didn’t realize they smelled so strong of my father’s pipe tobacco. I have no idea what you thought about that when they arrived, but you wrote and asked me to marry you. I’m here now. I need you to come back to me.” She waved them beneath his nostrils, hoping the odor wafting toward him would register as he inhaled it. Would he recognize it and associate it with her? If so, would it be enough to pull him out of his present state and return him to consciousness?