Gold (27 page)

The lantern on the table began to sputter. Var
ner went to the rear of the cabin and rummaged
on his shelves for an oil can. When he had the
wick burning high, he again went to the shelves,
this time to get a handful of candles. He used the
lantern to light one, then placed it in hot wax on
the floor beside the head of the bed. He lit the
other candles until seven flames burned in a semi
circle around the bed, three on each side and one at the foot.

He knelt beside the bed, his lips moving silently.
Selena realized he was praying.

She twisted her head from side to side, trying
to speak, trying to plead with him, to invoke God’s
name. She choked on the water dripping into her
throat from the cloth in her mouth, gagging as she
struggled to breathe.

Varner rose to his feet. With the knife in one
hand, he grasped her breast with the other. She gagged again, screamed, and fainted.

A clatter came from outside.
Varner stiffened. The sound was not repeated.
He released Selena, went to the window at the
front of the cabin and held the curtain aside. All
he saw was the black of the night.

He walked around the bed, pinched out the
candle flames, then turned the lantern low and set
it on the floor. Taking his Hawken rifle, he slipped
from the door to crouch in the shadows in front
of the cabin, waiting for his eyes to grow accus
tomed to the dark. By the light of a quarter moon
low in the west he saw the outlines of the hills
and the pines. There was no hint of movement in
the deeper darkness around the knoll.

Had he really heard the rattle of pebbles in one of the tin cans? He was no longer sure. Was the
sound, if there had been one, an animal prowling
in the night? How could he be sure? Going back inside the cabin he went to the window and rested the rifle on the sill. He sighted blindly at the trail leading to the cabin and fired.

There was no response. Drawing the rifle back,
he placed the butt on the floor and reloaded. He
was slow at it, being unaccustomed to the gun, and
could load and fire less than once a minute. He
shot into the night again and once more placed the
butt on the floor to reload.

He listened. There was no answering shot. He
must have been mistaken. There had been no
clatter. Perhaps he had heard the cry of an ani
mal. Should he, though, reconnoiter to be sure? Dare he leave the cabin? His only safety, he felt,
was here.
Varner looked toward the outline of Selena’s
body on the bed. She was quiet, unmoving. He put
Varner stiffened. The sound was not repeated.
He released Selena, went to the window at the
front of the cabin and held the curtain aside. All
he saw was the black of the night.

He walked around the bed, pinched out the
candle flames, then turned the lantern low and set
it on the floor. Taking his Hawken rifle, he slipped
from the door to crouch in the shadows in front
of the cabin, waiting for his eyes to grow accus
tomed to the dark. By the light of a quarter moon
low in the west he saw the outlines of the hills
and the pines. There was no hint of movement in
the deeper darkness around the knoll.

Had he really heard the rattle of pebbles in one of the tin cans? He was no longer sure. Was the
sound, if there had been one, an animal prowling
in the night? How could he be sure? Going back inside the cabin he went to the window and rested the rifle on the sill. He sighted blindly at the trail leading to the cabin and fired.

There was no response. Drawing the rifle back,
he placed the butt on the floor and reloaded. He
was slow at it, being unaccustomed to the gun, and
could load and fire less than once a minute. He
shot into the night again and once more placed the
butt on the floor to
reload.

He listened. There was no answering shot. He
must have been mistaken. There had been no
clatter. Perhaps he had heard the cry of an ani
mal. Should he, though, reconnoiter to be

He shook his head to clear it. What was that? Had he heard a noise in front of the cabin? Just beyond the door? Like a whisper in the night, a whisper as soft as the breeze. Yes, it must have
been the wind. Or a man? A man who stalked
him, waiting to punish him for his transgressions?

Varner put his head beside the partly open
door. He heard nothing. He eased the door shut
and slid home the bar. Again he looked toward
the bed. I should have guessed, he thought. She had summoned the devil. She had prayed to the
evil one and brought him here.

He had heard her mumbling while he prepared
to punish her for her sins. Now he knew what she
had been saying. At times he had opened his
Bible to Matthew and shuddered at the sound of
the words on his own lips. Now he repeated them:

“
Amen,” he chanted, “Ever for glory the and
power and kingdom the is thine for. Evil from
us deliver but temptation into not us lead.”

The Lord
’s Prayer said backwards—an incantation to call forth the powers of evil. Selena had
summoned the devil and the devil’s minions. And
he had heard them abroad in the night, circling
the cabin, their wings beating the air above him.
Yet he was safe here. He would fear no evil as
long as he walked the path of righteousness.

He could destroy them by killing the harlot.
With her death they would return to those nether
regions from which she had called them. He felt
for his knife. Not in his boot. Where was it? Had she somehow spirited the knife away? Or had he
left it on the bed?

A thud shook the cabin. Varner looked around
him in confusion. The thud came again, the bar across the door cracking as the door shuddered
inward. Yet the bar held.

Varner raised his rifle, firing point-blank at the door as the pine boards were smashed inward. A log thrust through the opening into the cabin. The
curtain was ripped from the front window. Men
rushed into the room through both door and
window. Varner retreated, stumbling backward as
he tried to reload, only to have the gun twisted from his hands.

He picked up the lantern from the floor and
swung it in an arc, releasing it, hurling it at them. The lantern crashed against the wall, the oil mak
ing a trail of fire to the floor. Varner backed to
ward the window at the rear of the cabin while
men beat at the flames. He turned to see a face
appear at the window behind him. He was
trapped.

He ran to the table, unseen in the swirl of
smoke. Taking the can of oil, he unscrewed the
top and flung the oil onto the flames. Fire burst
up around him. Men shouted. He saw Selena
being carried from the cabin wrapped in a blanket. He saw men retreating before the flames. Varner stared at the wall of fire in front of him,
then began backing away from the heat until he
came to the log wall at the rear of the cabin. Fire
hemmed him in; there was no escape.

His mind spun. The whirlpool sucked him into
its vortex. His soul was twisting and turning. He
no longer struggled. He let himself be pulled into
the depths. And beyond. And then he saw his
fate. The everlasting flames of Hell.

He had expected no better. He had hoped and
prayed for something else, yet he had expected no more than this. He knew the evil that dwelt in his
heart. Broad is the way that leadeth to destruc
tion. The wicked shall be turned into Hell, into the
fiery furnace, into the bottomless pit. Man’s fate
is to burn through all eternity.

He accepted his fate, facing the flames calmly.
But then the fire enveloped his body, and he
screamed.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

“
What in the name of hell do you mean?” King
Sutton leaned across Rhynne’s desk. “You could
call off the lottery any goddamned time you
wanted to.”

Rhynne tapped the ashes from his cigarillo.
They were in his office in the just-completed addi
tion to the Empire. “Of course I could, colonel, if I wanted to return ten thousand dollars to miners
scattered between here and Mariposa. What I
meant to say was that I don’t intend to cancel the
lottery. It’s scheduled for tomorrow and will be
held tomorrow.”

“
You’re making Miss Selena appear to be
a
...
a
...”
He groped for the right word.
“I think ‘pretty waitress girl’ is the phrase they
use in San Francisco.”

“
I’ll say it plain out, Rhynne. You’re making
her seem a common whore.”

“
Selena’s name has never been mentioned in
connection with the lottery. Not by me.”

“
Then you’re the only one who hasn’t mentioned it. What do you think the man who wins
the drawing tomorrow will expect? To go to bed
with you?”

“
Hardly. Yet what’s expected and what actu
ally occurs are often different things. If you under
stand my meaning.” He put his cigarillo on a tray
and stood up. “Come with me, colonel, and I’ll show you one good reason I’m not about to call
off the lottery.”

The two men crossed the gambling saloon to
the hotel. At the top of the stairs Rhynne unlocked
and opened the first door on the right and stood
aside.

“
Look in here,” he told Sutton.

“
My God, I’ve never seen its like.”

A majestic bed filled most of the room. Each corner of its purple velvet canopy was decorated
with a high plume of rose-colored feathers. When
Rhynne pulled a tasseled cord, velvet curtains
parted to reveal a coverlet of white and gold, the
colors matching the ornate white headboard
topped by a golden crown.

“
I’ll concede this is a bed fit for a queen,” Sut
ton said.

“
Or a king. It’s a Louis XIV. Not that he ever
slept in it. I’m told these beds were more for show
than for use. A man was known by the bed in his
parlor in those days. Not much different from the
way some Hangtown miners have their teeth
pulled so they can replace them with gold ones.”
“Sir,” Sutton said, “this bed must have cost you
a fortune.”

“
One thousand dollars. Tom Horobin found it in a San Francisco bordello, as a matter of fact. He was told they’d had it shipped in from Mex
ico.”

“
Thousand dollars or not, Miss Selena isn’t
about to bed down here with some sweating
miner.”

“
Of course she isn’t. Didn’t she tell you?”
Rhynne lowered his voice. “I fully expect the
winner of the lottery to decline the prize.”

“
She mentioned something of the sort. Surprisingly enough, she seems quite unconcerned about
the lottery. She must have a great deal of faith in
you, Rhynne. Why she does I’ll never fathom.”

“
Because I’m an honorable man after my own
fashion.”

“
Be that as it may, I can’t imagine any man in
the gold country who wouldn’t give half his claim
for her, much less turn her away after winning
her. I wouldn’t.”

“
You have a ticket?”

“
Number forty-three.”

“
I realize most men would, like yourself, wel
come the chance to know Selena better. Yet I can imagine a man who wouldn’t. Or, even if he did,
couldn’t. But the less said, the better. Don’t you
agree?”