Black Pine Creek

by David Haynes

  *

  The week finished with a suitably somber plant clean-up. The earth had shifted into another gear, and the wind hissed down the valley and stabbed at their flesh with a thousand spiky needles. Flurries of snow came and went, each one staying a little longer, testing the ground and the crew for resilience. The temperature dropped by ten degrees overnight and now whether they wanted to keep the plant running all night or not, there was no choice. They had to keep the water flowing or spend two hours in the morning with the enormous portable heaters defrosting and melting everything.

  They were getting to the stage where whatever reserves of energy and endeavor they had left were being snipped away by the earth.

  “I’ve decided we’re packing up at the end of the week. Weather’s coming in and we don’t want to get caught up here.” Draper and Mercer were drinking coffee first thing in the morning. Mercer had been true to his word and had worked double shifts for the last few days. Draper was still first up each morning and met Mercer to discuss the night’s mining.

  Draper dreaded closing his eyes now. Each night, as the first tingle of sleep washed over him, he saw Briggs and Evans staring back at him. No, that wasn’t it, they were staring through him with eyes that were startling red pools dripping from their sockets with a sickening syrupy noise. Then came the smell. The rancid odor of their last breaths, hot against his cheek. His mind jerked him away from that place each time, but when he finally stumbled from his bed his mind felt detached. It felt like someone else had been poking around in there. The ghosts of Briggs and Evans maybe? Was he being haunted?

  They sat inside, a fine layer of frost covered Mercer’s cap. His cheeks had reddened in the relative warmth of the kitchen. He looked strange to Draper. His eyes looked different, as if he were regarding Draper differently. Draper rubbed his own face. It was just fatigue.

  “Have we got enough to go home?” Mercer asked. Steam rose off the coffee and snaked into the frigid air.

  Draper studied his cup. “Excluding this week, just over a hundred and forty ounces. Adding another twenty if we’re lucky won’t make a world of difference.”

  Mercer grimaced. “And after you’ve paid the lease and Burgess, wherever he is, what will that leave?”

  “Diddly,” replied Draper. “The guys will get paid though, I’ve got enough for that. And you of course.”

  “Are you broke?”

  “Flat,” Draper shrugged.

  “Well then so am I. It was worth it to work with you again, buddy. I don’t want a cent.”

  Draper looked up. “This has been the second worst season ever. I just need to kill a couple of folk to make it to the top spot.” He laughed but he knew it was a terrible thing to say.

  Mercer shook his head in response. “It’s not been a total dead loss.”

  “No?”

  “There’s Meg. You two are speaking again at least.”

  Draper nodded. “Thanks to you. And I’d take that above the gold any day.”

  “There you go then. Stop being such a dick.”

  Draper clinked his cup against Mercer’s. “Time you went to bed.”

  “Not wrong there.” He eased out of the hard, plastic chair and stretched his long frame. “Vinson’s in a bad mood.” He winked.

  “Yeah?”

  “He thought I was watching him all night, I reckon.”

  “And were you?” Draper stood up and walked with Mercer to the door.

  “Damn right. He’s always fussing over that damn plant. It’s weird.”

  He pushed the door open and they both watched Vinson climb into his camper.

  “I’ll be glad to get out of here,” Draper said and walked across to his own camper.

  “Where’re you going?” asked Mercer stepping up into his own berth.

  “Remembered we’ve got another bit to add to the total.”

  Mercer raised his hand and closed the door.

  Draper had forgotten the nugget Vinson found until five minutes ago when he was totaling up with Mercer. It wasn’t much but it would add a little bit extra.

  He knelt down and opened the locker under his bed. The smell of oil had been strong for a few days but he barely noticed now. Until he opened the locker at least. The stink came out immediately and hit him between the eyes. His jeans were bundled up in a ball inside but once the pocket was empty, and the nugget removed, he would burn them. They were no good to anyone now.

  He slid them out and pushed his hand into each of the pockets in turn. They were empty. Apart from a few loose bits of change and some dirt, they were all empty. He grabbed the flashlight and shone it into the space. The whole locker was empty.

  Was he losing his mind? Had he put it in the jar without remembering? It seemed more than unlikely, it was impossible. So where was it?

  Lost it? Not a chance.

  When was the last time he’d seen it? He couldn’t remember looking at it since he’d taken it out of Vinson’s hand. And if Vinson hadn’t mentioned it at the meeting more than a week ago, then he probably would have forgotten about it until he’d taken the jeans out of the locker.

  That was just before they all went to Chicken for the night. He had meant to come back to the truck, grab the nugget and put it in the jar. So why hadn’t he done it?

  Something must have distracted him.

  Then it hit him with an unwelcome sting. Vinson had been here on his own. Vinson had every opportunity to steal it. He closed his eyes and felt a strange movement all around him, like the whole claim was tilting to the side.

  None of them locked their campers. Everyone wandered in and out of each other’s spaces as if boundaries had ceased to exist. Everyone except Meg, for obvious reasons, and of course Vinson.

  “Crap,” he hissed.

  A new wave of paranoia hit him with the flood of possibilities. All of them destructive and divisive. What to do? What to do?

  Relatively speaking, it was a small amount of gold. Relatively speaking, its value was low but that was only half of the problem. Not that they were flush with gold, they weren’t and every single ounce counted. But something more important was at stake. Trust. The crew in him and he in them. There was a bad seed here and it needed to be rooted out.

  He took a deep breath and stumbled out into the cool morning air. His breath made a slow rising plume as he exhaled slowly.

  “Morning, boss.” Puckett raised an arm as he walked toward the saloon. Draper nodded in response. It was all he could do.

  His mind was a confused maelstrom but there was one thing he was sure of. He couldn’t just let it slide. Not this time.

  *

  He hadn’t felt as bad as he did at that moment in a long time. The aftermath of Delta Junction had been bad but the rawness of that had faded. But now, here he was standing in front of the crew accusing one of them of being a thief. The strange, detached feeling washed over him.

  He had spent two days considering the options carefully, not even confiding in Mercer. What if he was wrong? What if he had misplaced it? He’d taken the jar out of the safe countless times just to check it wasn’t in there, but he knew it wasn’t. In any other season that particular nugget wouldn’t have been noticeable, but as things stood it was the largest single nugget they’d caught. It wasn’t in the jar.

  And that just brought things back to where he was standing now. It had been stolen and his prime suspect was Mike Vinson. He’d thought about taking him to one side and speaking to him alone but discounted it. Everyone had to be treated the same way. It wouldn’t be popular but taking everyone by surprise like this was the only way.

  Everyone in the room looked at him. They probably thought he was going to call it quits, send them all home.

  “Morning,” he started. It was close to freezing outside but he felt like someone was stoking a furnace in his belly. “I’ve got a bit of a situation. Some gold has gone missing.” There, it was out. No use in beating around the bush. It wasn’t exactly how he’d rehearsed it but it w
as a relief.

  There was a shifting of chairs across the floor. He caught Mercer’s confused expression as he glanced across the group.

  “Only three or four grand’s worth. It was in my van and now it isn’t.”

  Wind pushed and shoved at the timbers, making the saloon creak and groan. Draper’s insides felt the same way.

  “What gold?” Mercer asked.

  Draper looked at him. “Just a nugget Mike found a while ago. I put it in my pocket and then forgot about it. I went to fetch it out a couple of days ago and it wasn’t there.”

  There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Nobody knew what to say.

  Finally Vinson spoke. “Have you misplaced it? Put it in the jar, maybe?”

  Draper shook his head. Vinson’s eyes flashed a bloody red, like the eyes in his dreams. They were hideous, powerful and hypnotic. Then the color slowly faded, the brown of his eyes returned.

  What was that, some kind of dream flashback? Draper rubbed at his temple. “I thought about that and it’s not in the jar. I wouldn’t misplace a nugget like that either.”

  Vinson shrugged. “Seems you misplaced it once already. Could be you did the same again. You’ve had a lot on.”

  You little shit, thought Draper. I know where it is. It’s in your camper somewhere. And when I find it I’m going to rip your guts out and trail them all the way back to Chicken on the back of my truck.

  He was startled by the sudden clarity of the image in his head. He shook it away and asked,

  “Anyone know anything about it?”

  At no point had he accused anyone but they all knew what his question meant.

  “What are you saying?” Vinson asked, just to make things a little more tense.

  “He isn’t saying anything, Mike,” Mercer cut in. “He’s asking if anyone knows where it went. That’s all.”

  “I haven’t seen a nugget since last summer,” Puckett stood up and removed his pants and shirt. “You can search me and my bed, but nobody’s looking up my butt-crack. Not even you, Flynn.”

  Draper laughed, despite feeling sick. The stinging stench of last night’s nightmare’s had made a nest inside his nose, a nest that wouldn’t be flushed or picked away.

  Searching their campers wasn’t something he wanted to do but he suspected it was the only way this would play out.

  Meg stood up and twisted Puckett’s nipples. His face lit up in agony. “No gold under there,” she laughed.

  They were all taking it well. Surprisingly well. Certainly Flynn and Mercer knew how he felt about Vinson, so were they just following along to make it appear that all of them were under suspicion? He loved them for it.

  “You’re welcome to take a look in my pit too,” Flynn said. “Not much in there except for some photos Puckett’s mom sent me of her. Au naturel, so to speak.”

  “She sent them to you too?” Mercer asked with an injured expression on his face. “She told me I was her only sweetheart.”

  Puckett sat down holding his arms across his chest. “Hey, come on, guys.”

  Meg sat next to him and handed him his shirt and pants. “You set yourself up for these things. You need help.” She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

  “I know this is shit, and believe me it’s the last thing I want to do,” Draper began, “but I’ll come in with each of you just to have a quick look. If it hasn’t turned up...”

  “How do we know it isn’t you?” Vinson cut across him. “How do we know you’ve not taken it and are saying all this just to deflect us?”

  Draper snapped his head around. Aside from pointing a finger and shouting ‘Thief!’ as loud as he could, Vinson had been just about as blatant as he dared. Draper took a step forward, his fists clenched. He saw Vinson drop his hands off the table. Was he going for his knife?

  Mercer stepped between them. “What say we all look in your camper first, boss?”

  “That’s no good, he could’ve already...”

  Mercer turned on Vinson. “You keep your mouth shut.” It was a growl and Vinson shrank back on his chair. His hand stayed below the table.

  Mercer grabbed Draper by the shoulder and pulled him out of the building. Everyone, including Vinson, followed behind.

  24

  It was cramped with everyone inside the camper so Draper stepped outside and allowed Mercer to lift his bed, check the cupboards and storage lockers. The others simply watched. In a way he was glad to get this out of the way. A small part of him hoped they would find the nugget buried in his blankets. That way it could all end now and he could try and make things right with everyone. He knew they wouldn’t though. When they came back outside, Draper held his arms out for Mercer to pat him down.

  “Seriously?” Mercer asked.

  Draper nodded. He already knew he wanted to search Vinson and his camper last. He wanted the others out of the way so that when he found the gold, the fallout would be minimal. There would be no chance for the others to get involved or do anything rash. He needed Mercer with him though, just to keep a lid on things. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself at the moment.

  “Flynn, you ready?” Draper asked.

  Flynn stepped forward and held his arms out. Draper patted him down.

  “Are we checking the trucks too?” Vinson asked.

  Draper reached into his pocket and threw his keys at him. “Go for it. Puckett, you go with him.”

  They finished searching Flynn, Puckett and Mercer’s campers and their trucks. As Draper knew, there was nothing of any note. Certainly no gold.

  “Me next,” said Meg and opened her camper.

  Puckett put his hand on her arm. “I don’t know about everyone else but going through Mercer’s shorts ain’t the same as going through Meg’s things. It doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “I don’t mind,” Meg said, shrugging.

  “He’s right,” Draper agreed.

  “It should be you,” Puckett said. “You’re her dad, you ought to be the one to go through her stuff.”

  Draper looked at the others who all nodded. He looked at Meg. She held her hands up as if to say, I don’t mind.

  He stepped forward and followed her inside. One thing hit him right away – it smelled a lot better than the others, particularly Flynn’s. The rest of the crew stayed outside. Draper noticed how Mercer stayed next to Vinson throughout, giving him no chance to do anything, should he choose to.

  “Tidy, like mine.” Draper opened a few cupboards, glancing inside. Her clothes were neatly lined up on the little table. He patted them and moved on.

  The bed was on a raised platform above the truck’s cab. It was also neat, made and by the looks of it, clean. He lifted the mattress and the duvet, standing on the bottom rung of the small ladder to look around the edges.

  A pang of emotion hit him when he saw the photograph she had stuck to the wall, right next to where her head would be. It was the three of them: Claire, Meg and him on some claim or other. Meg couldn’t have been more than six or seven at the time. She was standing in the middle wearing a bright red coat and matching boots. Her hair had been the same color as Puckett’s back then and the sun made stars in the strands. She was holding that over-sized gold pan in her little hands and her mouth was open, either because she was shouting or laughing. She looked happy. They all did.

  He turned from the photograph to Meg. He could feel tears trying to force their way through his facade as he looked at her. For a moment, she was a kaleidoscope image in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled and turned away from her. He had to.

  A second later he felt a hand on his back. “It’s all right, Dad. It’s okay.”

  Draper forgot that everyone was outside, probably watching him. He stepped down and turned to her. Meg didn’t wait for him to say a word. She just circled her arms around him and pulled herself to his chest. He kissed the top of her hair. He could hold the tears back no longer.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He would kee
p saying the same thing for as long as he lived.

  “Touching!”

  He heard Vinson’s voice from outside. The next moment there was a scuffling sound and a grunt.

  “You had that coming.”

  As much as he didn’t want to, he released his daughter and looked out of the door. Vinson was lying on his back in the dirt, Mercer standing over him. His fists were clenched.

  Draper jumped down immediately and stood between them.

  “What was that for?” Vinson whined. He didn’t look injured. There was no blood. If Mercer had hit him then there would be something more than the pained expression in his face.

  “He only pushed him,” Flynn said.

  Draper offered a hand to Vinson who took it. His skin was cold and clammy. He’s nervous, thought Draper.

  Mercer’s fists unrolled and his expression softened. “You can’t help yourself, can you? Always got to have some nasty little comment.”

  Vinson dusted himself down. “I was being genuine!”

  “Like hell.”

  “Guys, that’s enough. Let’s get this over with.” Draper turned to the others. “Can you go fire up the plant and start processing the dirt we’ve got piled up? Sooner we get that done, sooner we go home.”

  They walked away, leaving him with Mercer and Vinson. Meg gave him a tentative smile as she went. He returned the gesture. For ruining that moment, he would love to do more than just push Vinson.

  “Ready, Mike?”

  “Is he going to apologize for that?” Vinson pointed at Mercer.

  “We’ll talk about it later.” Draper pulled Vinson by the shoulder and led him away. He could see Mercer was ready to go again if he was pushed but Draper just wanted this finished.

  It was telling that Vinson needed to unlock his door before they stepped inside.

  “Just you,” he started. “I’m not having him in here.” He pointed at Mercer.