Devlin's Curse Read Online Free PDF Page B

Miners, who because of the extreme heat with temperatures that rose to as high as 145 degrees, could only work in shifts of fifteen minutes at a time. These conditions were normal for many of the Virginia City mines.
    However, in addition to the miserable conditions the Gilded Bird was plagued by mysterious cave-ins, strange sulfurous odors and freezing cold spots that even rats would not venture into. Truth be told, John Anderson thanked the Almighty Lord he was rid of her. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and looked around his clapboard shack.  For six years he had sweated like a mule to take what he could from the mine.  He’d hung on stubbornly, lived a bachelor’s life, deprived of the sweet wife he’d left behind in Ohio.  In the past three months he had been dogged relentlessly by Big Jim Diamond to sell him the mine.  But he had held out. The happenings in the mine were far more disturbing than anyone knew. He did not consider himself a religious man but ever since he began to bring serious amounts of ore from her depths he had slept with the Lords bible next to his bed.
    The year before a miner, an Irishman from County Kildare, had heard voices coming from the inside shaft, calling his name drawing him deeper and deeper into the mine when suddenly a steaming sulfurous crevice opened up. He claimed that the Devil spoke to him and demanded he do unspeakable things. The Irishman fled the mine. He spent seven days in a shanty on D Street drinking rotgut whiskey and smoking opium.  On the eighth day, in the freezing November snow, he finally succumbed to madness and roamed the streets. He was arrested for kidnapping a prostitute and eating her.
    John Anderson lay down on his narrow bed with the open bible propped on his chest. He tried to close his eyes but horrible images flitted through his brain. Images of bodies, dead and bloody, strewn across a misty field like broken dolls. The smell of rotted flesh filled his nostrils. The distant sound of cannon fire combined with the drone of flies filled his ears. He was so weary; he felt he did not deserve to live. The image of his wife’s pale face floated before him but he dared not reach out for fear he’d pollute her with his guilty stain. His wife Rebecca was a god-fearing woman who had married one such as he: a man prone to drunkenness, dark moods and gambling. A fragile southern flower she had wilted under his thoughtless behavior. After the war she had fled to her mother’s family leaving John alone.
    The mine had been his penance. He had held the voices at bay along with their evil suggestions. But no more, he took a deep breath to try to still the hammering of his heart. All he had wanted was a stake; one last win to take him away from this accursed town. It was not to be. Now the fate of the mine and what lurked in its depths rested in the hands of a dark gambler. His hand trembled as he pressed a gun against his temple. A distant knocking sounded at the door but he ignored it and closed his eyes tight. The shot, which obliterated his tormented life, blended seamlessly and unnoticed by the night.
     
     
     
    After her trip to Chinatown, Esmeralda felt almost human again. The acupuncture and herbal tincture she had received from Grandfather Woo had revived her. When Jamie led her back to her room a little before daylight she drew the curtains and slept. Tomorrow she would look for a house to settle in and begin her plans.
    As Esmeralda slept she dreamt of Annie. More than ever she needed her guidance. When Esmeralda’s mother had died when she was twelve years old Annie from Witch Creek had taken her under her wing and taught her the ways of roots and folk magic. In her dream she could hear the sound of Annie’s rocker, see her in the corner of the room, and smell the tobacco smoke from her corncob pipe.
    Esmeralda tossed and turned restlessly in her bed. She felt herself lifting up and drifting above the town, whisking through the night air to a dark,