up, their flanks of bare rock mantled with
snow. The great mass of a huge glacier wended down the valley toward us, a
river of ice creeping inexorably onward.
I patted
Christine’s shoulder, glancing back to see if anyone overheard Griffin.
Certainly it would lead to awkward questions. No one seemed to have, however,
over the wild barking of our dogs in response to those howling from the camp.
“Perhaps
something might yet be salvaged?” I suggested weakly.
“Salvaged?
Look at that!” She gestured rudely in the direction of the gold camp. “The site
is completely disturbed.”
Jack
joined us. “The broken stele has been preserved,” he assured her. His attitude
toward me had altered strangely since the incident at the waterfall. Where
before he’d been confident in speaking to me, now he seemed uncertain, and I’d
caught him watching me thoughtfully several times.
“There
will have been more to the site than the damned stele,” Christine bit out. “Even
if it was the only monument, people can’t go anywhere without leaving some sort
of detritus. Broken projectile points. Bones from dinner. Beads spilled from a
necklace. Pottery like the Eltdown Shards. All of which was desperately
important in understanding who they might have been, and is now gone. Gone! And
for what? Most of these men will leave here no richer than when they came.”
“There’s
nothing to be done now, dear heart,” Iskander said soothingly. He took one of
her hands in his. “Let’s proceed into the camp and see what awaits us.”
The
corners of her mouth had gone white, but she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.
You’re quite right, Kander. We’ve experienced setbacks before, and we’ve
overcome them, just as we will now.”
Work
stopped as we drew close; no doubt word of our coming preceded us. Men filthy
with mud climbed out of the pits, or else stared at us from the rope and pulley
system used to winch the pay dirt up from the bottom of the shafts. A second
look showed not all were men; women worked the claims as well, alongside
husbands or each other.
Our
journey ended in what passed for the town here in the wilderness. We trudged
past the low row of mixed tents and buildings. A post office rubbed shoulders
with a gambling hall, which sat immediately beside a hovel carved out of the
hillside and advertising itself as a hotel.
Dear
lord, if that were to be our lodgings, I’d burrow into a snow bank with the
dogs.
“Twenty-five
cents for waffles and coffee!” Christine exclaimed. “Robbery!”
“A good
meal can be hard to come by out here,” Jack replied with a shrug. “A lot harder
than gold dust. When you can dig money out of the ground, it begins to have less
value to these men than a hot meal or a tin of tomatoes.”
“Hmph.”
Christine’s dark brows lowered in disapproval. “I hope at least the working
ladies are getting paid well for their time.”
Jack
looked shocked at her comment, but I rather thought she had the right idea.
“Which
claim is yours?” Griffin asked.
Jack
pointed. “The one with the tent over it. We put it up to protect the find.”
“At
least there’s that,” Christine muttered.
Griffin
frowned. “And you said Nicholas took up running the saloon while awaiting our
arrival?”
“Yes—there
it is.” Jack indicated a ramshackle building with THE NUGGET SALOON on a crude
sign out front. “He realized pretty quick we could make more money selling
whiskey and running gambling tables than we could hope to haul out of the
ground. We’d already intended to hire a few men to work our claims in our
place. The stele changed our plans, of course. Come on—he should be
inside.”
The
saloon was murky after the brightness of the snow, even given the dim light of
a short winter day. An iron stove heated the building’s interior, at least in
its immediate surroundings. Two men sat at one of the crude log tables, and a
third behind a rough-cut counter, but otherwise it seemed
snow. The great mass of a huge glacier wended down the valley toward us, a
river of ice creeping inexorably onward.
I patted
Christine’s shoulder, glancing back to see if anyone overheard Griffin.
Certainly it would lead to awkward questions. No one seemed to have, however,
over the wild barking of our dogs in response to those howling from the camp.
“Perhaps
something might yet be salvaged?” I suggested weakly.
“Salvaged?
Look at that!” She gestured rudely in the direction of the gold camp. “The site
is completely disturbed.”
Jack
joined us. “The broken stele has been preserved,” he assured her. His attitude
toward me had altered strangely since the incident at the waterfall. Where
before he’d been confident in speaking to me, now he seemed uncertain, and I’d
caught him watching me thoughtfully several times.
“There
will have been more to the site than the damned stele,” Christine bit out. “Even
if it was the only monument, people can’t go anywhere without leaving some sort
of detritus. Broken projectile points. Bones from dinner. Beads spilled from a
necklace. Pottery like the Eltdown Shards. All of which was desperately
important in understanding who they might have been, and is now gone. Gone! And
for what? Most of these men will leave here no richer than when they came.”
“There’s
nothing to be done now, dear heart,” Iskander said soothingly. He took one of
her hands in his. “Let’s proceed into the camp and see what awaits us.”
The
corners of her mouth had gone white, but she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.
You’re quite right, Kander. We’ve experienced setbacks before, and we’ve
overcome them, just as we will now.”
Work
stopped as we drew close; no doubt word of our coming preceded us. Men filthy
with mud climbed out of the pits, or else stared at us from the rope and pulley
system used to winch the pay dirt up from the bottom of the shafts. A second
look showed not all were men; women worked the claims as well, alongside
husbands or each other.
Our
journey ended in what passed for the town here in the wilderness. We trudged
past the low row of mixed tents and buildings. A post office rubbed shoulders
with a gambling hall, which sat immediately beside a hovel carved out of the
hillside and advertising itself as a hotel.
Dear
lord, if that were to be our lodgings, I’d burrow into a snow bank with the
dogs.
“Twenty-five
cents for waffles and coffee!” Christine exclaimed. “Robbery!”
“A good
meal can be hard to come by out here,” Jack replied with a shrug. “A lot harder
than gold dust. When you can dig money out of the ground, it begins to have less
value to these men than a hot meal or a tin of tomatoes.”
“Hmph.”
Christine’s dark brows lowered in disapproval. “I hope at least the working
ladies are getting paid well for their time.”
Jack
looked shocked at her comment, but I rather thought she had the right idea.
“Which
claim is yours?” Griffin asked.
Jack
pointed. “The one with the tent over it. We put it up to protect the find.”
“At
least there’s that,” Christine muttered.
Griffin
frowned. “And you said Nicholas took up running the saloon while awaiting our
arrival?”
“Yes—there
it is.” Jack indicated a ramshackle building with THE NUGGET SALOON on a crude
sign out front. “He realized pretty quick we could make more money selling
whiskey and running gambling tables than we could hope to haul out of the
ground. We’d already intended to hire a few men to work our claims in our
place. The stele changed our plans, of course. Come on—he should be
inside.”
The
saloon was murky after the brightness of the snow, even given the dim light of
a short winter day. An iron stove heated the building’s interior, at least in
its immediate surroundings. Two men sat at one of the crude log tables, and a
third behind a rough-cut counter, but otherwise it seemed
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