“How did the town stay afloat when the mining industry collapsed?”
Dottie got a cagey look on her face. “A man came here from England. Some rich second-son. He was looking for somewhere with a lot of acreage where he could build a family home and hunt. Married one of the local women. They had no part in the mine and mostly kept to themselves while the town was prospering, but when the economy started to go under, that’s when the family poured their money into Argentum’s dwindling coffers and we started to become better known as a hunting paradise.”
The Cullravens.“How does that work? I thought we had pretty strict gun control laws in California.”
Dottie scoffed, but her posture had relaxed. “It’s privately-owned land. The rules for that are different than they are for state land. The family hired a lawyer, got the permits, probably bribed a couple of city officials too, though you didn’t hear that from me. Why, you like hunting, girl?”
Her voice echoed ominously down the caverns—girl, girl, girl.
The tunnels, Nadine thought uneasily, eying some of the wooden boards that had been bolted over what she suspected were the other entrances. It was cooler in here than it was outside, but there was a strange smell that reminded Nadine of a cross between petrichor and old paint.
“No,” she said. “I’m not really a fan.”
“You came to the wrong town then,” Dottie cackled. “Look, there’s a couple of veins of silver ore, here.” She gestured at a thin, glistening spiderweb embedded in the rock. “That’s real silver. And that there on the ground is the original track where they pushed the carts out into the tunnels. Most of them were destroyed, but we’ve got one preserved out front. People near broke their backs pushing those carts around when they were full. I’m sure you can imagine the strength required of the man who could push a thing like that.”
For some reason, she thought of Cal.
Cal, in his partially buttoned shirt, with his protruding collarbones, the linen catching on the hard slabs of muscle that belied his genteel dress.
She swallowed. “I can imagine,” she said quietly.
“Yes, well. That’s the tour.” Dottie looked around the dimly lit mine and sighed. “It’s not much to look at, but it’s history just the same. Do you have any questions?”
“What does arsenic do if you touch it?”
“What does—honey, you better not be planning on coming in here and running your hands all over everything like one of those internet looky-loos,” she said, shaking her finger. “I told you, it’s toxic. Took them years to get this mine up to running again, and even then, some parts were beyond saving. Not that it stops the kids from trying to get into those tunnels.”
“I’m not going to touch anything!” Nadine said defensively. “You said they put it into, like, wallpaper and medicines and things. It was a dye, right? What happens if you touch it?”
“I guess it could give you sores and lesions,” Dottie said, still looking suspicious. “They used to call it ‘miner’s dermatitis,’ actually. It’s even worse when they blast it, though. That’s what they do in England. They blasted those rocks to high hell because they were so greedy for ore. The dust drove some of the miners mad when they breathed it in.”
“Where the family was from,” Nadine said slowly. When Dottie looked at her blankly, she said, “The one who saved the town. You said they were from England.”
“They didn’tsaveanything. Only Jesus saves. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, that really is the end of the tour.”
“Thank you for your time,” said Nadine. She wanted to console the woman, who was starting to look agitated. “It really was informative.”
“Pft,” said Dottie, though she seemed pleased. “The town gets a tax credit for doing it.”
The sun felt even hotter and brighter after the chill of the mines and Nadine found herself blinking, a little dazedly, as Dottie held the door to the kiosk open for her.
“The kids enjoy it, though. They bus them in from the charter school once a year and we send them home with rocks and those little kids over there. A lot of them write in their names.”
She gestured at the poster Nadine had only glanced at earlier. The laboriously printed names, many of which looked to be printed in crayon, made Nadine smile.
Then the smile disappeared.
One of the little paper “ore” shapes had been filled in with familiar pink bubble letters and saidNoelle. Her sister had been here.
“Oh, these are cute.” She stepped closer, shooting a look at Dottie. Was that writing on the back? She flipped it up by the edge and her heart leapt when she saw her sister’s familiar script wink back at her, the sight of it making her ache.
“Pens are in the bin if you want to fill one out.”
Nadine picked up one of the rock-shaped papers and scrawled her name on it, before glancing over her shoulder again. Then she ripped off Noelle’s rock from the wall and stuffed it into her bra, just as Dottie finally looked up at the sound of tearing paper.
“Sorry,” Nadine said, holding up her shape. “I snagged it.”
Dottie rolled her eyes and went back to her knitting and Nadine breathed out a sigh, pinning her rock to the poster with what had once been Noelle’s pin.
