The Gold Seekers Read Online Free PDF

that they should not be expected to hand over their share of the strike to the Mormon church.
    It wanted an hour to sunset when he reached Thayer’s Bend. The store was in a wood-built shanty in the center, kept by a man named Logan, assisted by his two young sons. Luke hitched his mare’s rein to the post outside and, taking the small buckskin bag of dust from his saddlebag, walked stiffly into the store. Logan’s elder son, Ted, was behind the counter, and to Luke’s astonishment the boy eyed him as if he had seen a ghost. Not waiting to ask him what he wanted, Ted backed away and went scuttling to the rear of the store, shouting for his father.
    “Pa, come an’ see! It’s one o’ them Windy Gully fellers! Leastways it’s him or his spittin’ image!”
    Logan himself appeared, a napkin tucked into his shirt, irritably cursing at what was evidently the interruption of his meal. But at the sight of Luke his eyes widened behind their rimless spectacles and the angry words died on his lips.
    “Gawd Almighty!” he exclaimed, visibly startled. “You are one o’ Captain Morgan’s boys, ain’t you, from the Windy Gully claim?”
    “That’s right, Mr. Logan,” Luke assured him. “I’m Luke Murphy. I’m on my way back from visiting my folks in—” He broke off, conscious of the storekeeper’s tension. “Is there something wrong?” He thought of the mine shaft and the confined space in which he and the others had been compelled to work, and drew in his breath sharply. “There’s not been an—an accident, has there?”
    Logan hesitated. He was known as a hard man, but there
    was pity in his eyes as they met Luke’s. Finally, he inclined his head.
    “That’s right, boy, there has—a real bad one. Truth to tell, we thought—that is, we didn’t know you was visitin’ your folks. You must’ve gone afore it happened. But maybe it’d be best if Eph Crocker told you—I’m just a storekeeper; I don’t know nothin’ about minin’. Ted—” He gestured to the door. “Cut across an’ ask Mr. Crocker to step in here. Tell him— tell him as one o’ the Windy Gully boys has shown up here, an’ they ain’t all—” He bit back the word he had been about to say, but Luke, a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach, guessed what it was.
    “Dead?” he whispered brokenly. “You don’t mean they— they’re all dead? Dear God, Mr. Logan, you can’t mean that?”
    Logan said nothing. Turning away, he splashed a measure of whiskey into a pewter pot and thrust it into Luke’s hands.
    “Swallow that down, son,” he urged. “Eph’ll be here soon, an’ he’ll tell you.”
    The raw spirit choked him, and Luke put the pot down, his hand shaking. He had planned to buy a bottle of whiskey, he remembered, to celebrate his return and to console Dan for what he had to say concerning their father. But Dan would not—could not hear that now because he was dead—he and Frankie and Tom. Jasper Morgan, too, he supposed. All of them except himself.
    Heralded by a breathless Ted, old Ephraim Crocker came hurrying into the store. He, too, had evidently been disturbed by the boy’s summons while eating his evening meal and was still buttoning his jacket when he halted by Luke’s side, his lined face grimly set. In a few gruff words he confirmed the storekeeper’s story.
    “I’m right sorry, lad, an’ that’s the truth. But they was usin’ blastin’ powder, see, an’ the whole shaft caved in on top of them.” He explained the circumstances. “I reckon it must’ve blown when they was inside. ‘Twas a mighty loud explosion—a lot o’ the stuff must’ve gone up at one an’ the same time, see. I heard it from here an’ guessed there was somethin’ amiss. Haifa dozen of us threw down our tools an’ made for the gully as fast as we knowed how, but we was too late. They was buried, an’ there was no way we could get to them.”
    “You tried?” Luke managed, his throat tight. “Mr. Crocker, you