Jump to content

GhostMiner

Member
  • Posts

    1,004
  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    54

 Content Type 

Forums

Detector Prospector Magazine

Detector Database

Downloads

Calendar

Everything posted by GhostMiner

  1. April 22 1937 Part Four The shots started going down and some of the crowd was cheering on their local favorite but some were hollering encouragement out to Slim. Slim started out downing a shot a minute. He told us to call out each minute. Jeff was just downing them as fast as he could put them down. After fifteen minutes Jeff had downed twenty shots and Slim was sitting comfortably at fifteen. Jeff was starting to look a little funny and his speech was beginning to slur just a bit. Slim kept up the shot per minute pace all the way to thirty minutes where he overtook Jeff. Jeff tried to keep up but at the forty minute mark he attempted to stand up and lost all of his efforts as everything he had consumed came up. He had made it to thirty five drinks. Seeing as Slim had now made the count of forty and had won the contest he stopped. It was hard to believe but he was able to get up and walk out the door on his own. Then he came back in and collected his money. The crowd gave him a big cheer. He bought drinks for the bar and the crew stayed inside while I followed Slim outside and into the parking lot where he heaved up what he had drunk. We went back inside and stayed until closing time. I didn’t see Slim drink anything more that night but the rest of the crew and I had ourselves a hell of a good time. Some of the guys in the crowd came over to me and said how bad they felt when they heard about what happened to my brother. They also thanked us for cleaning out the rif raf that had taken over the area. It seemed that the law was next to worthless there and wasn’t up to doing their jobs. What they had failed to do we did for them. All in all it was a good night except I felt bad for Dutch. I was hoping things would be ok between him and Slim. TO BE CONTINUED ...............
  2. I will be getting some posts up today & tomorrow. Been a bust week. Slim is one of a kind for sure.
  3. Still out on tour with my rock show. More journal to come soon. Happy 4th to everyone!!
  4. April 22 1937 Part Three When we got back inside the entire crowd was all stirred up. Some had come out to witness the activities while others were watching from the windows. Slim had put on quite a show. One of the guys came over and wanted to shake our hands and buy us drinks. We accepted the offer but Slim had an idea of his own. He hollered out inquiring who was the best whiskey drinker in town. One of the men said Jeff Johnson could outdrink any man in town. Slim told the guy to go get him as he wanted to challenge him to a drinking contest for $50. The guy went to get him. Then Slim came over to me and quietly asked if I’d stake him the $50 as he was broke. I said sure and eventually Jeff Johnson came walking in. He was over six feet in height and must have weighed in at 250 pounds. Now the crowd was surrounding the table we were at and Jeff and Slim set up the rules. The bartender would time the contest out at exactly one hour. Shots would be poured for Slim and Jeff as they downed each glass. Whoever had drunk the most shots after one hour won the prize. However, the winner had to keep the whiskey down and be able to walk out of the tavern on his own accord at the end of the hour. The barkeep brought over two bottles and poured out the first two shots. The contest was on. TO BE CONTINUED ................
  5. April 22 1937 Part Two I immediately stepped in between Dutch and Slim. I told Dutch that we hadn’t contacted everyone yet and would have given him a job once we got up and running. I said we just couldn’t afford an extra man until we got back on the gold. I also told him Slim was working just to be with the crew and without any real pay. I told Dutch that I knew he needed to be properly paid so I was waiting until that time to put him either on security or the mining crew. This seemed to calm him down. We shook hands and I told him we’d talk more and I would buy him a drink. However, this didn’t cut butter with Slim and he said he had been insulted. Dutch could have done the easy thing and apologized but it wasn’t in his blood. Dutch was a big guy and younger than Slim by a good twenty five years or so. He also outweighed Slim by at least fifty pounds. Maybe more. Slim told him it was too late to apologize now and he wanted satisfaction. Dutch was half drunk and told Slim to go find a place to sit down or he'd sit him down on the barroom floor. Before I could say a word Slim had one of his Colts out with the barrel stuck up against Dutch’s throat. The open end was under his chin and Slim cocked the hammer. He told him to get outside and Dutch had no choice unless he wanted to get his head blown off. By now the barroom had gone quiet and all I could think was now we are becoming not only legends but outlaws to boot. The crew followed Slim and Dutch outside and I pleaded to Slim to put the gun away. Slim wasn’t having it. He asked Dutch how much money he had on him. Dutch said he had ten dollars. Slim said to give it to him and Dutch did so. Then Slim told Dutch to get on his knees. He reluctantly did. Then Slim set a full bottle of beer on his head and told him to keep it balanced. He said if it fell he would shoot off one of his ears. Then he walked back about forty paces, turned quickly as he drew his Colt from the right holster, and shot the full bottle off Dutch’s head. Beer went all over him. Slim told him to stay put and walked over to him with my bottle of beer and placed it on his head. He told Dutch not to move and he was going to do the same shot left handed. He stepped off forty paces, turned and fired as his Colt cleared the left side of his holster. The bottle smashed to pieces from the bullet and beer was once again draining down Dutch’s head. Now Slim told Dutch he had one chance to apologize or he would shoot off one of his ears. Dutch told him he was crazy. Slim didn’t say a word and cocked the pistol. Dutch gave in and said he was sorry. Slim told him to get up on his feet. When he did he fired a few rounds alternately from each Colt and the bullets were striking inches from Dutch’s boots. Dutch was dancing up a storm. Slim told him he was going back inside to do some drinking and said to git. He said he was choosy about who he drank with and didn’t like drinking with cowardly weasels like him. Dutch left with his tail between his legs and we went back inside the tavern. TO BE CONTINUED ..................
  6. April 21 1937 Part One We had a good night's rest and went right to work early. We had our best day with five ounces. John and I couldn’t believe it. Somehow we had found us a sweet spot of glory gravel. Slim said he’d never seen gold like that but had heard tales in town that we’d mined thousands of ounces out here. I didn’t say much other than don’t believe all the bull shit being passed around about us. After supper Slim said the crew should go into town and celebrate. He kept talking and eventually had John on his side. I, for one, was tired of letting the town people control us so I asked Sarge and Ben if they were good with guarding camp while we went in. They said they were fine with it but didn’t exactly think it was a good idea. So John, Will, Hudson, Slim, and me rode into town and parked at the side lot of the tavern. When we walked in it was really packed. All the tables were taken and the bar was almost full except for a few spots at the far end. Then I saw someone whisper something to another guy and he turned to look in our direction. It was Dutch. He came walking over to me. It was clear he had been drinking and was in a bad mood. He was not happy we hadn’t included him as a permanent member of the crew. Then he spotted Slim. Dutch said he couldn’t believe we had hired on prison trash like Slim instead of him. Slim heard the remark. I was thinking this trip to town had been a real bad idea. TO BE CONTINUED .......................
  7. April 20 1937 About two in the morning I got woke up to the crack of a gunshot. Then three more. I pulled on my boots and crawled out of my tent. The rest of the crew was coming out as well. I looked around trying to get my bearings and there was Slim with both Colts in his hands. Before I could say anything Slim pointed with one of the Colts to the area just outside of the camp. I shined a flashlight and saw a lion laying on the ground. Slim was hooting and hollering to beat the band. He said the lion was sneaking into camp and he let him have it. He was drunk but twirled both pistols back into their holsters without a hitch. Sarge came running over. Slim hollered over to him and asked what was he doing, sleeping? Sarge let it pass. Slim’s bottle had run dry and he went into the supply tent and pulled another. I told the crew to get back to sleep and John and I sat out with Slim for a spell. Slim ended up drinking until nearly daybreak but somehow he had sobered up. John and I had sat up with him for a couple of hours and he was telling us all kinds of things. He said he had demons running around in his head from all his years in prison. He said the law dogs had stolen his youth and he’d lost it forever. I tried to tell him to just start fresh and make the best out of his new and free life. The crew were all pretty tired this morning but we did our jobs, even Slim. He seemed perfectly fine by noon and had calmed down and seemed pretty normal again. We ended up getting one ounce and I was glad to get back to camp where I intended on getting some sleep after supper. TO BE CONTINUED ..................
  8. April 19 1937 I got up this morning feeling better. Slim and John were cooking bacon & rolling smokes by the cook stove. I noticed that Slim had himself a fresh bottle of whiskey as well. The crew had breakfast together and headed out to work. Sarge and Ben took their usual lookout spots and I asked Slim to come up the mountain with John and me and act as a guard for the pit & side of the mountain where the water line ran. He took his bottle with him. He had both Colts and John had given him one of his rifles. He picked himself out a good spot where he could see any movement coming up that side of the hill. On the hike up I asked him if he was still banned from carrying weapons. He just shrugged and said what the law didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them and nobody was going to take his guns from him unless they wanted a few new holes in them. I figured it was his business and he fit the attitude of our crew so I let it sit. We had a good day's dig and ended with two ounces of gold which wasn’t bad for the mediocre ground we were on. When we all hiked back down the mountain I noticed Slims bottle had run dry but he seemed quite sober. It was really hard to tell what he was thinking because he kept his feelings well hidden. The boys got a nice campfire going as it got dark and we opened up some beans and cooked more bacon. Slim got himself a fresh bottle. It was his pay as well as grub and a dollar a day so he took what he needed. I grabbed some cold beers out of the creek and we all sat and ate and drank and did some talking about last year and what had happened so far this year. Slim said he would have skinned my brother's killers alive and he said he wasn’t kidding. He told us he’d heard a bunch of wild stories in the tavern about us. I said they’re all true and gave him a wink. Slim said the law in town was next to worthless. He told me that he hoped those murderers wouldn’t escape from jail and we should have hung them when we had the chance. He said the deputies were in the tavern as much as they were on duty and drunk half the time. Slim said he hated law dogs with a passion. I changed the subject. It seemed like the more Slim was drinking the meaner he was getting. I was hoping he wouldn’t cross John or Sarge. That wouldn’t be a fight I’d want to see. But he seemed to get along with everyone. He said he’d tried gold mining briefly but didn’t have any luck and went back to cow punching. He said he’d gotten pretty good on horseback and bronc busting but his body was getting too old to bronc bust anymore. Sarge asked him what it was like in prison. Slim said it was a tough deal. He had spent thirty years inside and it had made him pretty mean. He said he didn’t have much patience with people and he liked to use his fists as much as his pistols. The night was clear and cold and Slim was on another bottle by midnight. I told him we were all turning in except Sarge who would be on watch. Slim said he was going to set out by the fire a spell as he had some serious thinking to do. TO BE CONTINUED ..................
  9. Slim is either going to proove to be a good person to have on the mine or perhaps a very bad idea taking him in to the crew. Time will tell. More to come today.
  10. My goal is to lay these stories out here like a movie with occasional soundtracks that fit the action. It is my hope that rhe reader can use his or her imagination to read the story and picture it as a movie using their own imagination. I suppose that's what reading adventure stories is all about. It takes everyone to their own private place.
  11. April 18 1937 Part Five Slim said he lasted until the law dogs caught up with him in Cody, Wyoming. He said there were two of them and he could have easily gunned them down but didn’t want to kill any more men. He got thirty years and got out when he was 51 years old. More than half his life had now been spent in prison and he had no one to call a friend. He was on his own in a strange world. He was forbidden to own or carry a gun and had no training except in gun play and cow punching and bronc busting. He thought about the rodeo circuit but everyone told him he was too old. He decided to give it a try anyway. He got on with the Cowboy Contest circuit in Cheyenne and found out he could still hold his own in the bronc riding division. He made himself a living for nearly ten years and was the oldest cowboy to qualify for a trophy and prize money. Then he eventually hooked up with a ranch in the area and now he was sitting at our campfire drinking whisky with us. We all pulled out some cups as he talked about his life and drank whiskey with him deep into the night. Around two in the morning we all turned in. When we got up none of us were feeling too good and took the day off nursing bad hangovers. There was no gold made that day. TO BE CONTINUED .................
  12. So far the crew hasn't got much gold but there's a whole bunch of action about to hit the fan. Buckle up because Season Two is Season One on steroids. Gold, guns, brawls, shootouts, whiskey drinking, and that's just the beginning. Might be more than some here can handle. New characters ready to die for gold. Hang on, it's coming right at you.
  13. So that would make me somewhere between 160 - 180 yrs old. Man, I didn't think I looked that bad. Must be all the whiskey drinkin'.
  14. April 18 1937 Part Four Slim said when a man told him he was going to kill him he took him at his word. So he raised his right hand as if to give up but as he did so snapped the six shooter out of its holster with his left hand and fired three times. The rancher dropped to the ground lifeless. Just that quick he had taken two lives but felt he had no choice. The cowboys were real upset now because their boss and one of their friends were eating dirt. Slim said there were five of them left and some had sidearms. He told them not to make any moves and walked backwards towards the barn. He saddled a horse and road off into the night leaving what few belongings he had. However, he did have a full poke now. Within the space of a few minutes he had become an outlaw. Then he told us the rest of the story. TO BE CONTINUED ...................
  15. April 18 1937 Part Three Slim said that back when he was just out of prison he got a job working on a ranch. He didn’t have a whole lot of cowboy skills when they hired him but learned real fast and was soon one of the best cowboys on the ranch. He was in a poker game one night. It took place in the main bunkhouse and Slim was losing real bad. The cowboy who had all the money was the best bronc buster on the ranch. Or so he thought. Slim challenged him to a bronc busting contest. Slim put up one of his Colts against the money in the purse. The other cowboys got the meanest horse out of the barn. They called him Freight Train. He was bad to the bone. The first cowboy took a turn on him and got thrown after just a few seconds. Slim got on and rode out the horse and broke him. The cowboy who lost refused to give up the purse. One of the other guys was holding Slims Colt & gave it back to him. The losing cowboy challenged Slim to a duel. Slim said this guy thought he was pretty quick on the draw. They walked out fifty paces and stood looking at each other. Slim told him to make his move when he was ready. After a wait of about thirty seconds the cowboy slapped leather. Slim came up with both guns firing just as they cleared their holsters and the slower guy went down on his knees firing off a round into the dirt. Then he slowly rolled over on his side. He was dead. Both of Slims shots had pierced the chest in the area of the heart. Slim calmly walked over and took the money out of the cowboy’s vest pocket. It was covered in blood. The ranch owner had heard the ruckus and came out of his house with his rifle. It was way past midnight. When he saw one of his top hands laying dead on the ground he wasn’t happy. He pointed the rifle at Slim and told him he was going to shoot him dead. TO BE CONTINUED ....................
  16. April 18 1937 Part Two Slim told us his father had worked in a wild west show back in the day. He did all kinds of tricks with guns and ropes. His father had begun teaching him these skills from even before he could remember. His father traveled all the time and when Slim was sixteen he and his mother and sister never saw him again. He just left on a show tour one day and never came home. He had no idea what happened to him. Slim kept practicing his father’s trade until he figured he was better than him or anyone else around. However, by this time the wild west shows were all dried up like the dust in the western wind. There was no market for his trade. Slim developed a real bad attitude and began to pull strong arm robberies when he was still a kid. He used his gun skills to intimidate people all the time. Not surprising, the law eventually caught up with him when he was nineteen years old and he spent two years in the Wyoming state prison. When he got out his mother and sister had moved on and abandoned him. He never saw either of them again. Prison hadn’t helped his attitude but it hardened him as a man. He had been in many fistfights and brawls while in lockup and had developed some good hand to hand fighting skills to go along with his gunplay. He was a truly dangerous individual and didn’t think twice about using his guns or fists at the drop of a hat. By now Slim had downed a third of his bottle. Then he told us a wild story. We all leaned in to listen closely. TO BE CONTINUED ....................
  17. April 18 1937 Part One We are continuing to get wild hooligans from town who want to come out here to the mine and either meet us or work with us. Last night I heard Ben and Sarge holler out at someone who was trudging up the side of the creek toward our camp. The crew came over and had a look at what the hollering was about. I nearly laughed but held it back. Sarge was not so kind and began to laugh and hoot. There in front of us stood an old guy dressed like a cowboy from back in the 1800’s. He wore a large cowboy hat that nearly covered his face and also some old jeans and fur leggings. He had on boots with spurs as well as two six shooters in a holster. He was smoking a home rolled cigarette and gave us all an evil stare. I walked over to him and asked what he was up to. He said his name was Slim Saunders and he was from a ranch just outside of town. I reckoned him to be about 60 in years or maybe a bit more. He told us he had done everything from ranching to mining to logging and even bounty hunting in his day. I started to like him. John asked him what we could do for him. He said he had heard quite a bit about us in town. Some of the groups that hung around in the tavern said we were the mining crew from hell and we took names and kicked ass. He said he was looking for work and wanted to join up with us. I asked him what kind of job he was looking for. He said he was a scratch shot with his 45’s and could work as security. He said he could also handle a rifle with the best of them. Before I could say anything he pointed to a limb on a pine tree about 100 feet away. He said to look toward the end of the limb and there was a small branch starting off to the right with a pine cone hanging on. I said that I saw it. He slapped leather with both hands and quick drawing his Colts and fired off a round from each gun. The pine cone flew off the limb. Then he twirled the pistols and put them back in their holsters as slick as grease. Then he told Will to set out two empty tin cans about 100 feet away. Will set them up on a rock and came back over. Slim said to watch and he pulled his right hand quickly and shot as the gun cleared leather. One of the cans flew off the rock. Before the sound of the shot died he pulled his left hand with the Colt and did the same thing. The can flew off the rock just like the first one. He twirled them back into the holster as slick as could be. I asked him what kind of pay he wanted. He said just his grub and whiskey, a dollar, and a little taste of gold from time to time. I told him to hold on while I talked with my crew. Everyone liked Slim. We decided to give him a go. I went over and asked him when he wanted to start. He just looked at me and said “Well, I’m here aint I ?” and that was that. Then he asked if we had any whiskey. I handed him a new bottle and we all sat around the fire as darkness fell. Slim took a couple of pulls from the bottle and began to tell us his story. TO BE CONTINUED ...............
  18. April 17 1937 We are getting some unusually warm weather here for this early in the season. The crew is in good spirits even though our gold count is modest. I am set on finishing the kettle before we move the operation. We are pretty much working the leftovers from the old boys from the 1800’s but we are getting some gold. Today we got well into the northern section of the kettle. The gravels are getting sparse and the depths to bedrock is only a few feet. It appears to me that the bedrock has been cleaned fairly well by previous miners. We are just mining sluff and some gravel from what has eroded from the sides over the years. We aren’t able to work anything in the sides as they are solid rock. By the end of the day we had a meager one half ounce and John was grumbling about moving to a new location. I asked him to be patient as we only have a week or so at most until we finish here and as we are all set up we may as well make the most of it. Tonight at camp we had a few beers and started to talk about our next move. It will be way over to the eastern drift area that Jed and Whiskey Jack were keen on. For now we can only dream of another big strike as the gold has become elusive. TO BE CONTINUED .....................
×
×
  • Create New...