Olinghouse Gold

By Ace Remas

Luigi Rossi measured success differently than most. For him, true success was a glass of red wine enjoyed on the porch of his decrepit cabin in the Nevada desert under the mantle of the Milky Way, the well-being of his two children and his sick wife, and the satisfying labor of quietly toiling in the familiar confines of the gold mine, which was bequeathed to him in lieu of wages.

After illegal immigrant Tony came to hide out in the desert, Luigi found the kind of success most dream about, a glistening field of crystalline gold jewels worth millions. Then his real troubles began. His beautiful daughter could not resist the temptation to ferret away gold samples she sold on the black market. Her husband meekly acquiesced to her thievery, even though he knew it could destroy the life's work of his father-in-law. Luigi's mom-and-pop mining venture transformed into a business with investors, the impersonal dominance of technology and bookkeeping, and the contamination of deceit and dishonesty.

"Rich is business, poor is life," Luigi once lamented to his wife. Though he knew it was foolish not to be rich when offered the opportunity, he accepted success sadly. Could he, should he, abandon his simple but impractical values and just devote himself to acquiring and managing his millions? Wise and tempered by his years in the Nevada desert, Luigi crafts a way to protect his daughter despite her coarse dishonesty, satisfy his investors, and even save Tony from the long arm of the immigration authorities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662477836

Book preview

Part 1

Because of an unusual sense of lethargy, Luigi had left the empty ore cart at the end of the track over the tailings pile the evening before when he finished his day of work. Now he was required to expend valuable energy and time pushing the ore cart up the slight grade into the mine. On most days, he would have returned the cart to the end of the tunnel before retiring. He regretted this uncharacteristic lapse of his routine.

When the ore cart was locked in place at the end of the tunnel, he allowed himself to sit on a nearby upturned wooden dynamite box before shoveling rocks crumbled by the last dynamite blast into the ore cart.

Olinghouse was famous for the fine quality of its gold. It was one of the rare places in the world where gold had crystallized into tiny leaf-like structures, filaments that resembled hair, and clusters of crystals. Miners in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries had long ago exhausted the gold reserves of the mining district. In the heydays during which a few people made millions, miners often uncovered elegant gold crystals and filaments protected in veins of calcite from the thunderous blasts of dynamite. Collectors eagerly bought these specimens for much more than the common price of gold, valuing them as they would gemstones. As recently as twenty years ago, some miners established operations to find these famous Olinghouse gold specimens exclusively for sale to collectors.

Luigi’s mine was one of these operations. When he was employed as a miner by the owner, he and his wife Sofia and his daughter Anna and son Stefano, then both in their late teens, moved into one of the houses in the deserted ghost town. When the mine owner went broke, he owed Luigi wages for six months’ labor.

Luigi consulted with a lawyer in Reno who took on the case because he was infatuated with Luigi’s beautiful daughter. The matter was settled when the bankrupt mine owner signed over the mine to Luigi, but his family could not continue living in the house. Temporarily they lived in the shack that now served as Luigi’s shelter, but eventually the family moved to a rented house in Reno while Luigi stayed alone at the mine to eke out a living by searching for rare specimens of crystalline gold.

Each month, Luigi found some gold, usually a rock pried from the calcite vein with a few particles of crystallized gold scattered on its surface. Some of these finds would fetch no more than fifty or a hundred dollars from collectors. Occasionally, a sample with a complex pattern of crystalline gold would sell for a thousand dollars. When he was employed by the previous owner of the mine, Luigi heard stories of samples that had sold for tens of thousands of dollars.

The work to find the gold was painstaking and careful. The crystals of gold were usually associated with the dirty white of calcite or the purple of amethyst. With a pickax or chisel, Luigi would chip along the horizontal seam of calcite as he looked for signs of color. To move forward along the seam, he had to tunnel the rock to make a narrow passageway for the ore cart and its metal tracks. Periodically, he used carefully planned charges of dynamite to loosen the rock around the calcite.

Each time he worked to lengthen the tunnel, he dreamed of uncovering another streak of dirty white in the gray igneous rock. Over the years, he had found and read the geological reports of mining companies and their mineral claims. At the Green Hill Mine just up the canyon from his site, miners found a vertical stope of calcite that yielded three hundred and twenty specimens of Olinghouse gold. For a while, sales to collectors were more profitable than mining common gold. Luigi was convinced he would one day find such a cache of treasure. He could take his wife, Sofia, back to Lucca if she were still able to travel.

As he collected small samples of gold through the course of a month, he hid them in a secret spot beneath the floor of the shack. Before the cabin was built, an enterprising prospector had excavated a shallow shaft. He had gone only six feet before deciding there was no gold to be found on that side of the gulch. Maybe it was the same man who decided to build the cabin directly over the hole. He included a trapdoor to give access to the hole beneath the shack where he could store potatoes and other supplies in the cool cavity. Luigi moved his bed over the trapdoor and camouflaged the door and its hinges with file boxes full of geological reports. To hide the gold samples in the shaft, he had to move the bed and file boxes, swing open the door, and climb down inside. On one wall of the shaft was a small alcove cleverly hidden by a well-placed stone that blended seamlessly into the wall of solid rock. He put his samples in this grotto behind the stone. After climbing out of the hole, he moved the file boxes and bed back into place.

Infrequently tourists, hunters, and drunken teenagers would drive into Olinghouse in their four-wheel-drive pickups and Jeeps. It was obvious Luigi’s meager hostel was occupied, and most people respected his space. Luigi left his old red Datsun pickup parked by the porch as a clear signal to trespassers he was present and close by. He also had nailed a sign on the wall announcing the cabin was private property. Next to that was the official-looking yellow signboard issued by the Bureau of Land Management that declared the area as a valid mineral claim, and the removal of any ore samples by others than the claim holder was forbidden by law. When he went into the mine to work, Luigi carried a .22 caliber rifle with him, which he leaned behind a support timber near where he was working.

Sometimes visitors would stand and shout at the mouth of the mine to prove to themselves the shack was owned by a miner. Some left notes they had dropped by. Occasionally, Luigi would notice something missing, such as a jug of wine or a can of beans. He figured someone who stole from a lonely man’s outpost in a ghost town must have been very needy, and he forgave them. After such visits, he always removed the bed and file boxes to check his cache of gold, even though his hiding place always appeared to be undisturbed by visitors.

If he had filled the ore cart near midday, after he pushed the cart to the end of the track and emptied it, he would pause his labors to fix himself a lunch and rest on his bunk. Rarely did he fall asleep at such times. He lay on his back on the bed and stared at the rough wood rafters of the ceiling. His days were long and lonely, and he often resolved to leave when his son arrived with supplies at the end of the month. Sometimes a month or more would pass between evenings spent with his wife.

When Stefano’s day off from his bartending job coincided with his monthly visits, Luigi would trade places and use Stefano’s car to drive to Reno while his son stayed at the mine. Stefano possessed the wisdom to warn his mother of the impending visit, giving her time to rise from her sickbed. She combed her hair, exchanged the bathrobe for a dress, and brightened her lips with red lipstick. Luigi often told his wife when they were younger if Marilyn Monroe had been born Italian, she would have looked just like her. All Sofia remembered of Marilyn Monroe’s movies were her bright red lips.

This morning, he needed to plant dynamite charges in the four holes he had drilled earlier. He used dynamite sparingly, both because of its expense and its violence. Olinghouse gold was fragile. The jolt of an explosion could damage the delicate crystals and filaments the collectors valued so highly.

He kept crates of dynamite stored in an alcove chiseled from the side of the mine tunnel about halfway back toward the entrance of the mine. The previous owner had installed a steel door, which Luigi padlocked. He also posted on door an OSHA-mandated warning sign about the explosives stored inside.

He carefully tapped sticks of dynamite into the holes and covered them with plaster to seal in the power of the blast. When he had finished this stage, he walked back to the entrance of the mine and stood to one side against the side of the hill.

According to OSHA regulations, he was required to announce out loud the impending explosion. Most miners were happy to shout, Fire in the hole! even if no one else was nearby. There was always some joy in blowing things up, as if something good in the universe had been advanced. But despite his wish to obey this sensible safety regulation and his need to bring some joy into his life, Luigi ignored the requirement. Who would know? An old man working in an old mine was such a common sight in Nevada that it had become a postcard cliché.

Already, he had been at this for ten years, and all he had managed to achieve was survival. He had paid his wife’s Medicare copays and helped his son and daughter-in-law with the rent for the house they shared with Stefano’s mother.

Still, he took the precaution of surveying the area around the mine to ensure that there was no one who could be injured by a rock accidently shot out of the mine by the explosion. To his mild astonishment, he saw a young man with a backpack sitting on the porch of his shack across the gulley. Luigi disconnected the wires from the electrical detonator and laid them on the ground by the entrance of the mine. He scrambled across the gulley and approached the young man directly, waking him from a drowsy nap as he leaned against his backpack.

You need help? Luigi asked in a rough voice.

The stranger rubbed his eyes as he sat up straight. The backpack tipped forward without his weight against it. Luigi could tell it was heavy.

You need help? Luigi repeated.

The young man, no more than a boy in Luigi’s eyes, smiled. He stood up and held out his hand.

I was waiting for you, Mr. Rossi, he said. I’m Tony. I’m a friend of Stefano, and he told me about you, so I decided to come by and see for myself.

Where’s your car? Luigi asked.

I walked here.

From Reno?

No, of course not. From Wadsworth, though. Eight miles in all.

With that on your back? Luigi asked, pointing to the backpack.

Sure. My gear.

Are you going to walk back? Luigi asked.

Sometime. Whenever.

What do you want?

Tony looked down at the sand between his boots and kicked at a small stone.

Stefano said you might need help. I want to learn how to mine.

Why?

Why do you work in the mine? The same reason. To find some gold.

It’s my gold!

Luigi pointed to the yellow Bureau of Land Management sign.

I just want to find it, Tony explained.

Why?

Doesn’t everyone want to find gold?

You don’t have to make a living? Luigi asked.

Eventually. I’m taking a break from college at the university. I want to study geology, and I thought it would be good if I saw how a mine is worked.

It’s not fancy, Luigi said, if that’s what you’re looking for. No science. Just mucking rock and keeping my fingers crossed.

I can ride back with Stefano the next time he drives out, Tony said.

That’s nearly a month from now.

I have the time, Tony replied.

Where you plan on sleeping? Not in my shack?

Tony gave his backpack a pat.

I have everything I need in here. I won’t be a bother, and maybe I will be a help.

How about food? You got enough for yourself until Stefano comes?

Some, maybe not enough, but if we need more, I can use your pickup and drive into Fernley for groceries. I’ll use my own money.

Tony reached into his hip pocket to extract a wallet. He held it up to show Luigi. It was fat and appeared to be stuffed with bills.

I have enough. I’ll even fill up your pickup with gas. I got enough for diesel fuel too, if you need it for the generator.

Tony pointed to the generator parked against the hill by the entrance of the mine.

Where will you sleep? Luigi asked.

Tony tapped his backpack again.

I have a tent in here. A good one. I can set it up anywhere, right here on the front porch.

You’ll just be in the way.

Stefano said I could be your donkey…but I won’t piss in the mine. Tony chuckled quietly to make it clear to Luigi he was joking, but Luigi didn’t smile. That way you can keep working while I push the ore cart back and forth. And I’ll load it up for you too. What’s wrong with that? It’ll be a big help. You’ll get more done faster. Don’t you want to get more done faster?

I don’t do things like that, Luigi said.

Why not?

By the time Luigi had returned from his work in the mine after the dynamite blast, Tony had erected his tent at the end of the porch. That evening, despite himself, Luigi invited Tony to share his dinner with him: fried eggs, the salami and bread, a glass of wine, and a can of freestone peaches. Tony eagerly accepted.

We’ll try it out tomorrow, Luigi said as they sipped hot coffee.

That’s great!

Tony held out his hand as if to confirm a business arrangement.

Luigi ignored Tony’s outstretched arm.

It’s not an invitation to stay. We’ll just see how it works out. Probably, I’ll send you packing.

Even if I do a good job?

Haste makes waste, and you seem like a hasty fellow.

Stefano warned me. He said you’re pretty set in your ways. That I had to be patient.

Was this Stefano’s idea?

No. It was mine. But he thought it would be good. He worries about you out here all by yourself. Anything could happen.

Like what?

I don’t know. Maybe you will get sick. Or injure yourself.

Maybe Stefano thinks I’m getting old.

Aren’t you? Tony asked.

Old?

Luigi paused to look up at the evening sky. Above the black shadow of the Pah Rah Mountains, he could make out the faint illumined mist of the Milky Way. He pointed to the stars, and Tony raised his eyes to see.

I like it here, Luigi said.

Tony was as good as his word, and Luigi did accomplish more faster than he had ever before. Donning a pair of work gloves he had thought to bring with him, and the hard hat Luigi handed to him, Tony quickly loaded the ore cart with the crushed rock that had been blasted from the mountain. He pushed the cart out of the mine and returned for another load in less time than it would have taken Luigi.

Slow down, Luigi scolded. The mountain ain’t going no place.

While Tony loaded the ore cart, Luigi used his pickax to loosen the gray igneous rock encasing the calcite. As he exposed the calcite, he pried it loose to look for the cavities and cracks that provided the empty spaces where crystals of gold could grow. When Tony asked why he chipped around the calcite so carefully, Luigi explained how superheated steam millions of years ago leached gold and other minerals from the surrounding rock and deposited them in cracks and crevices. Because of the special volcanic conditions of the Olinghouse gold fields, the heat and steam promoted the growth of gold crystals in the cavities between the calcite and igneous rock. Mining Olinghouse gold involved carefully dislodging the calcite to find the open spaces where crystals of gold may have grown.

Though there was scant evidence of gold on this day, Luigi inspected and discarded twelve inches of the thick horizontal vein of calcite. Knowing gold was not there also counted as an accomplishment.

Well, you gonna send me packing? Tony asked when they stopped for lunch.

Not today, Luigi mumbled.

Already, only halfway through the day, Luigi would be able to make at least three marks on his calendar. Tony was sure to complete another trip with the cart before they stopped in the evening, an exceptional day by any measure.

I’m running out of rock to muck. You gonna blast again tomorrow? Tony asked as they walked back to the mine.

I’ll show you how to handle a drill. Two of us working together ought to be able to plug four holes in just one day.

More done faster! Tony exulted quietly.

At the mouth of the mine, Luigi held up his hand to stop Tony.

What are you going to do when I find some gold?

Tony looked surprised and held up both arms to feign innocence.

I’m not here to steal it, if that’s your meaning. I just want to see it…and see what it takes to find it. Besides, this is good exercise. He flexed a bicep. Good work. It’ll clean me out.

You’re happy working for nothing?

I like it here too, Tony replied.

Never had Luigi drilled holes and planted the dynamite in them on the same day. In what was normally a two-day chore, resilient young Tony had compressed into one. Even when Luigi paused to rest, Tony kept at work and, when he had finished his two holes to sufficient depth, moved the drill to the hole Luigi had started.

You’ll wear yourself out, Luigi warned as they sat on the porch for lunch.

I hope so. That’s why I’m here, Tony said.

Why do you want to wear yourself out? What do you think that will get you?

Tony cocked his head as if thinking.

I don’t know, but something good, I guess, he said at last.

And you have money in your pocket? Luigi asked.

Sure!

Tony reached into the hip pocket of his jeans and extracted the fat wallet to show Luigi again.

Are you in trouble? Luigi asked.

Trouble? What kind of trouble?

Trouble…trouble. That kind.

Everyone’s in trouble, don’t you think? Tony said.

The next morning before they started across the gulch to the mine, Luigi pulled Tony by the arm and pointed toward the tent at the end of the porch.

I’ve been thinking, Luigi said. I think you should leave.

Now?

Luigi simply nodded.

Why?

I have enough troubles of my own.

But I’ve helped you!

Again Luigi nodded in agreement.

Can’t I stay until Stefano returns? Tony pleaded.

There are other ways you can wear yourself out. Hiking across the desert with that backpack will do the trick.

You don’t want to be responsible for me, is that it?

Tony’s question startled Luigi.

I’m going to work. When I stop for lunch, you’ll be gone, he said.

Tony watched Luigi cross the gulley and disappear into the dark mouth of the mine. Luigi paused in the darkness to see if his young visitor was preparing to leave.

Tony stood for a few moments on the porch, with his hands on his hips. After a while, he threw his arms into the air with exasperation and turned toward the tent to break it down. When the blue shell of the tent collapsed as Tony removed the flexible rods, Luigi turned and slowly trudged along the tunnel. He had worked in the mine for years without help, and it just didn’t seem right to rely on it now, especially from a stranger who asked for nothing in return except for a place to sleep.

When Luigi emerged later from the mine behind the ore cart, there was no sign of the tent or Tony. He set the ore-cart brake before reaching the end of the tailings pile and hurried as fast as his old legs would carry him across the gulley and into the shack.

Even though the bed and the boxes under it did not look as if they had been disturbed, he pulled everything aside to swing open the trapdoor. He wanted to find out for sure if Tony had searched for his hidden treasure spot when he thought Luigi could not see him. But nothing had been moved.

After he put the bed and boxes back in place, he felt unnaturally tired. Maybe he was getting old like Tony had intimated. He could not remember feeling as listless this early in the workday. It was not even time for lunch. He allowed himself to sit in the chair by the table on the porch and pressed his right hand over his heart. Its rhythm was fast, the beat faint. He wondered if indeed he was too old, too old to find gold.

He was tempted to heave his body out of the chair and to pour a glass of red wine, but even that small effort seemed monumental. He stretched out his legs and propped his feet on the heels of his boots. His head fell back; he felt groggy and sleepy. Despite his misgivings at this unusual behavior, he let his eyes close and savored the delicious sensation of sleep creeping down the muscles of his body. Just for a little while, he told himself, and he fell asleep.

He awoke with a start. How long he had been sleeping, he could not tell. The sun shone hot directly above, and this amazed him. Out of habit, he pushed himself up from the chair to move toward the mine, but all he craved was more sleep. He turned to look at the corner of the porch where Tony had pitched his tent. The empty space caused him to regret his earlier gruff reaction to the young man.

Slowly, hesitantly, he shuffled to the end of the porch and down the steps. He looked up at the sun again. About noon, or a little later, he estimated. He pushed his body into the cab of the pickup. After a moment, with his head propped on the steering wheel between his two hands, he jerked upright and started the truck and headed down the dirt road toward the highway some four miles away.

As he had surmised, Tony with his backpack was trudging along the road about two miles from the ghost town and Luigi’s shack. Luigi pulled