Dusthaven, May 17, 1875 - 9:00 am
In the soft dawn light, the first rays of sun peeked through the clouds and the sound of rain pattering gently on Cole's wooden rooftop reached his ears. As he rolled out of bed and opened the door, he discovered some places that still needed sealing up in his old cabin. The rain washed off the roof and created tiny rivulets that flowed down into the muddy streets of Dusthaven.
Cole rode under his oilskin and saw the miners, wrapped in their oilskin coats, trudging through the mud and heading towards the mines. Their lanterns flickered in the dim light. The air was cool and fresh, with the scent of wet earth and sagebrush filling the air. The sound of the blacksmith's hammer was muffled by the rain, and the usually bustling saloon was still only a burned out shell with no customers.
Cole tied Nevah at the general store, hoping that she would stay under the small protection of the store roof as he went inside to talk to Zeke. The old prospector was near the counter, talking to Jeb the storekeeper, who looked a little nervous about the whole business. “Ah, Cole, good to see you.” said Zeke. “I’m just about ready to finish buying our equipment.”
“You want to take that stuff out in this weather?” Jeb pointed toward the downpour outside. “You two are crazier than I thought.”
“What stuff?” Cole was a bit intrigued now.
Zeke walked to a small wooden crate on the counter, pulled off the lid, and drew back an oilcloth to expose several eight inch paper-wrapped tubes, each with a small fuse attached, cushioned with sawdust. The crate had a helpful label reading “Dynamite”. Jeb moved back when Zeke started monkeying with the crate. "Gets a little twitchy if it gets wet," said Zeke, "But I think my buckboard can keep it dry." He placed the dynamite gently back into the crate and carefully closed the lid.
Cole helped Zeke carry the crate to the back door of the store, where his buckboard waited, covered by a rain tarp. They placed the dynamite into the wagon, and cushioned it with some sandbags to keep the crate from shifting. Making sure the tarp was fastened down securely, Zeke drove his horses off into the rain, humming to himself. Cole had to hurry back to the front of the store and retrieve Nevah before he could catch up.
Fortunately, the terrain was rather smooth between Dusthaven and the canyon, and even the muddy trails did not jostle the crate enough to produce a detonation.
The Badlands
Zeke squinted into the gloom as the rocky Coyote Gulch came into view. A dark shape loomed ahead along the wet trail, and Cole smelled a strong wet-animal scent. He heard a snort as the massive shape shook its horned head. A bison, the biggest he’d ever seen, stood directly in the trail’s path. Even through the rain, Cole locked eyes with the beast, each acknowledging the other’s presence in the untamed badlands.
Zeke brought the wagon to a stop next to what Cole at first thought might be a small hillock, but it turned out, as the rain washed it clean, to be a rusty pile of old mining equipment, far past useful. As Zeke’s buckboard stopped, he warned Cole to keep Nevah back from the bison, something he was more than happy to do.
The bison snorted again, signaling that it might become aggressive if challenged. Zeke began to whoop and bang on a cooking pot from his wagon with a stick. The bison drew back its ears as if it might charge the buckboard. Cole could not imagine anything more disastrous, so he yelled at it too, hoping to draw its attention away from the wagon hauling dynamite.
Finally, the bison gave up and moved along. It wasn't happy, though, so Zeke made sure to keep the buckboard a safe distance from the annoyed animal. When it returned to its meal, they felt comfortable enough to start moving again. Thankfully, the beast didn't pay any further attention to them, but Zeke knew to proceed with caution.
Cole watched as the sun came out and the rain ceased. This was a welcome relief, but its impact would be felt for the worst, at least by Cole and Zeke. With the threat of the bison over for the moment at least, they began to notice the oppressive heat, caused by the sun and the air that retained its moisture. That and the ever-present discomfort they felt while attempting to not jostle the dynamite made for a tense ride. In the distance, the ramshackle tents and brick walls of the old Hope’s End camp came into view, and Cole felt a bittersweet moment of relief wash over him.
Hope’s End Mining Camp - Noon
The rain had not changed much in the gulch since the previous day. They were able to roll up to the old plant without incident. Zeke chuckled as he got down from the buckboard, and pulled off the cover on the dynamite. Placing several sticks of the explosive where he thought they might do the most good, he set the blasting caps prepared a long fuse, setting it as far out of range as he could before tying the blasting caps to it.
Finally, he moved the horses back, and told Cole to watch himself. “Fire in the hole,” he declared, lighting the fuse with a wooden lucifer match. A titanic roar shook the canyon, and a burning scent assaulted Cole’s nostrils. When the dust cleared, he saw that even dynamite had not budged whatever had fallen in the doorway of the old plant, although it had rattled the walls and punched a new hole in the side of the building.
As the two men approached the smoking crater in the side of the old plant, they were stopped by a sound from the canyon wall above. “Shit fire,” a familiar voice shouted. “If those outlaws are still here, that’ll get their attention for sure.” Weston Kane came scrabbling down the sharp rocks from above.
“Weston!” shouted Cole. “Do you want to join us on a little exploration?”
“Frankly,” said Kane, “I’d rather roast in hell than stick my head in there after that ruckus. This place has the Devil’s mark on it, I’m tellin’ you.”
“You’d know better than most, Weston,” said Zeke with a chuckle.
“Well, I’m glad you saved me the trouble of hauling dynamite out here. We need to blow this place to Kingdom Come.” Kane looked around furtively, as if he thought that the detonation might have somehow angered the old building.
“Soon as we figure out a couple of things,” said Zeke, “You’re welcome to do just that.”
“Well, by all means don’t let me keep you,” said Kane. “Meanwhile, I’ll be out here keeping the horses company.”
“Suit yourself, then,” said Zeke, and walked toward the hole in the wall again. Cole followed behind him, not sure whether they or Kane were more right about the place. The two men made it easily through the rubble around the hole, and were now inside the dark, dusty, and smelly interior of the old smelting plant.
They encountered nothing but dust, rubble, and silence. They found their way blocked by rubble, both to the north and the east. Cole barely managed to push through the rubble to the north, dragging Zeke along with him. They emerged from the pile of detritus next to the old blast furnace, which was inexplicably still burning hot enough to make Cole blanch and pull back before his hand was burned. Vile-smelling steam hissed from it. Unnerved by the old machine, Cole moved away.
Moving toward a work area near the furnace, Cole and Zeke were surprised find a number of work aprons and heavy gloves like those used by blacksmiths or trainmen. They still seemed to be in usable shape, although there was no sign that workmen had been here in many decades.
Near a set of stairs going up and down, the two men located what appeared to be an old stamping mill, with a tarnished copper ingot still inside. Strangely, it also looked like it could function. The steam boiler that powered it ran back to the furnace. This area didn’t have much rubble and amazingly, the stairs seemed to be relatively stable.
Cole started to go up, but then he noticed that Zeke had found something else - an old ore cart track leading back into the bowels of the building. More debris had collapsed on top of the track, reducing it to splinters and twisted metal. Cole could see a room beyond the debris, though, and he began looking for a way around it.
Zeke started to climb over the debris pile. Cole started to warn him that it looked like that was a bad idea when Zeke suddenly shouted “Oh Lordy, it’s shifting!” He was instantly enveloped in a rolling pile of steel, concrete and dust. Frantically, Cole pulled and threw rubble until he found Zeke and dragged him out. Zeke wasn’t conscious and Cole wasn’t sure if he was breathing.
Throwing the man over his shoulder with a wordless cry, Cole charged for the exit like the bison they had encountered earlier, clambering over the rubble in his path with a strength born of desperation. As he emerged into the sunlight once more, he shouted to Weston for help, and the bounty hunter took Zeke from his arms and lay him in the back of the wagon.
“We have to get him back to Doc Zeismer,” said Weston pragmatically. “But we can’t run the wagon hard with that dynamite in the back. We’ll all end up playing harps in Kingdom Come if we try that. Help me get it in there.” He pointed back towards the hole.
Somehow, they managed to get the explosive inside and cover it with the tarp without detonating it or the blasting caps. Cole wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave it there, but Zeke was surely fading fast. Placing him more securely on the cart, Kane whiped the horses into motion as Cole tried desperately to mount Nevah and follow.
As they emerged from the mouth of the canyon, the clouds, which had been holding back the whole time they were in it, burst forth with a terrible, punishing burst of rain. Cole was glad that they didn’t have the dynamite, because the wagon skidded several times and only Kane’s skill at driving the horses kept it from tipping over.
They made it back to Dusthaven in the late afternoon, skidding to a stop in front of Dr. Zeismer’s house. But Cole could already tell that it was too late for Zeke. His face was ashen, and his chest did not move. Zeismer came running out with his medical bag, but he could do nothing more than concern what Cole already knew. Zeke was dead. The old smelting plant had claimed another victim. And he might not be the last.