Short Story: For the Love of Gold

Wednesday - Afternoon

Karst wiped the sweat from his forehead and swallowed hard. The bottomless hole inside him grew bigger and more gnawing. He had spent the entire sweltering day finishing the last roof in this village, and the idea of moving on from here made his chest feel like busting open. These past eight years involved roofing the houses of people settling in the West – something he did not intend to turn into a job – but someone caught a whiff of his skills one day as he worked on his own roof. Right then and there, he was a trapped man. But you have to come by money some way, and that’s the way that chose him.

Karst hammered the last nail into a wooden shingle, stood, slipped the hammer into its loop on his belt, and squinted in the desert haze. Ten houses. In the middle of the dry earth. And for what? Why would anyone want a neighbor?

Sweat dripped down his face. He needed water. Karst made his way down the ladder and into the house with its now newly completed roof.

“John, that you?!” Old Man Roy yelled from his bedroom.

“Yes, sir!” Karst wiped his forehead again. He was sick of being hot. And sick of making nice.

Old Man Roy waddled out of his room, putting an awful lot of weight on his cane.

“How’s it coming?”

“All done, Roy.” Karst swallowed hard again. “I could use some water.”

“Oh, sorry, m’boy. Mary has yet to fetch water from the stream today. Whiskey on the table. Help yourself.”

Karst uncorked the jug and took a few swigs. When Roy finally reached the table, he slapped a palm on Karst’s wet back. Karst despised men’s assumptions that they’re friends just because they’re making small talk. The bottomless hole lurched up into his stomach. He gripped the head of his hammer.

“Well, what’s next John?”

Karst shook his head. He knew he didn’t want to break his back in the hot sun for anyone anymore. He didn’t care how badly people needed roofs for their houses. The pay wasn’t worth the blood and sweat. And since there was no woman, he didn’t need to head home just yet.

“No idea,” he finally responded, and he meant it.

Old Man Roy held a bag of coins up in front of Karst’s face.

“To your future.”

Karst forced a smile, wishing Old Man Roy would stop standing so close to him and remove his giant hand from his back. To be civil, he bumped the bag of coins with the mouth of the jug and took a final swig of whiskey.

“Gaaaaah,” Karst exhaled.

Old Man Roy chuckled, dropped the bag of coins to the table, and chugged back some whiskey himself.

“Did you hear about the people who found gold up north?”

Karst’s heartbeat picked up its pace. He shook his head. He felt dizzy as his stomach did a few flips. Could be the whiskey, but could be the idea of striking it rich.

“Turns out, people are flocking from all over to get a piece of it. And not just Americans…Indians, Chinamen, and greasers, too. Between me and you, I hear there are Squaws aplenty.”

Old Man Roy elbowed Karst’s ribs. He cringed.

“Ya know? You could roof the shacks going up for the miners!” Old Man Roy added.

Karst started to lift his hammer out of its belt loop. “I better head out, Roy. Thanks for the drink.” Karst grabbed the bag of coins off the table and turned to leave.

“Good luck out there!” Old Man Roy called after him on his way out the door. Karst gritted his teeth.

Back out in the sun, Karst closed his eyes and swayed in place a moment. The whiskey had gone to his head, and the bottomless hole nagged him.

Get rid of him.

Karst shook his head.

He’s easy.

“Go away,” Karst whispered to himself and mounted his horse.

Thursday - Night

Karst sat around a fire with three young men also headed to the gold fields. The youngest looking one with the clean shaven face shoveled a spoonful of beans into his mouth and spoke first.

“Imagine getting to buy all the women you want.”

A grunt rolled out of the bearded man. The kerchiefed man nodded his head fervently. Karst shifted on his stump. If he was paid every time men brought up women in a conversation, he wouldn’t need this gold.

“And to be able to travel to Europe. You ever been?” Kerchief man pointed his spoon at Karst. A few beans fell off into the fire. Karst cricked his neck.

“No.”

“Plenty of women there, too, huh Colin?” Kerchief man held up his bowl at the clean shaven one and all three men laughed heartily.

Karst shifted again and rubbed the back of his neck. He finished his beans and scooped up some freshly boiled water from the pot with his mug. He wondered if any of these boys had ever really worked. After busting his ass outside every day for eight years, he felt owed this gold. Who cares about women. Imagine never having to work another day in your life. He didn’t say this, though. He wasn’t much for bonding.

“So what have you left behind?” The bearded man was looking at him.

Karst rubbed his thighs and sniffed. “Roofing.”

“That’s it?”

The bottomless hole twisted in Karst’s gut. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“What kinda life is that, good man?!” The bearded man slapped Karst’s back and all three had another good laugh.

Karst gripped the head of his hammer again. Rubbed his thumb over the smooth face, worn from years of use.

They wouldn’t expect it. No one’s around.

Karst shook his head and cricked his neck again.

“Ah come on, Pete!” Colin chimed in. “We all must not’ve had much to choose to put up with days of traveling in our own filth!”

Kerchief man agreed. “If my mother would have said when I was a boy, ‘Andrew, one day, you’re going to find so much gold, you’ll never have to worry about farming,’ I would’ve called her crazy.”

Karst wanted this money more than he ever wanted anything in his life. And he would have to dig for it with the likes of these three?

Saturday - Night

The three men straddled stools at Jackson’s Bar, gripping beers. Karst stood with his whiskey. He never liked having his back to a room or door. The saloon was packed, and with more than just westerners. Karst had never seen this many people from all corners of the world in one place. Old Man Roy was right. These gold fields were a hot spot.

“These people have no right comin’ here ‘n’ takin’ our gold.” Pete spat at the floor.

Karst looked around at the mix of men gambling over cards, sloshing their drinks around, and staring at the girls’ chests. The smell of stale beer, sawdust, and sweat overwhelmed him. He thumbed the face of his hammer. A man at the end of the bar with long, dark, wavy hair and a mustache caught Karst’s eyes. Karst nodded at him.

Colin clapped his hands together, startling all of them out of their drunken lull. “Lads! I have an idea! If one of us finds gold, let’s split it!”

Andrew raised his mug. “That’s brilliant, my man!”

Karst hated this idea. He barely knew these men. They decided they’d stick together for travel, but he couldn’t stand them let alone share anything with them. He felt the bottomless hole twisting and turning in his gut, his chest.

“I ain’t splittin’ it with any-a-ya… ‘specially roofer here,” Pete slurred. “He don’t talk, and I don’t trust that.”

Karst inhaled deeply, trying to slow his heartbeat.

“Pfft…he don’t even have anythin’ to say to that.” Pete threw back the rest of his beer.

Karst squeezed his hands into fists. Men laughed. Mugs clunked. Chairs crunched on the floor. Colin hiccupped. Andrew belched. Pete stumbled off his stool and over to the man alone at the end of the bar. He put his arm around him and squeezed tightly.

“Plus, this Mexican bastard here’ll prolly find some first and we’ll all be shit outta luck anyway.”

Karst gripped the head of his hammer.

End him.

He swigged back the last of his whiskey.

End him!

“Lay off ‘im, Pete!” Karst shouted.

Colin and Andrew stared up at Karst, speechless. Pete laughed and shook the man.

“You hear that? He speaks!”

The man locked eyes with Karst, again, and Karst nodded at him. The man grabbed the bottle in front of him and whacked Pete over the head with it. Pete stumbled back into a table of men playing cards. Colin and Andrew flew off their stools to grab him. The card players started shouting. Karst covered his ears. The bottomless hole knotted up. He felt like he was going to vomit. Colin and Andrew headed for the door with Pete restrained between them fighting to get free so he could beat the man at the end of the bar. Pete spat in Karst’s face.

END HIM!

Karst pulled his hammer from his belt, ran at Pete and grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall with his hammer above his head.

DO IT!

Pete passed out. Karst let him drop to the floor and took off out the front door.

That night, Karst tossed and turned in his tent. A shadow figure stood above him, froze him to his very core, wrapped its darkness around his throat, mouth, eyes. Tentacles slithered out of the bottomless hole, filled Karst’s entire being, used his hammer to slowly gouge its way out of his gut, and merged with the shadow figure beside him. He tried to flail. Tried to yell as the thing grew larger and larger until it overtook the entire camp. He awoke in a sweat to his own moaning. Karst knew he shouldn’t have had so much whiskey.

“Oh my God, Pete!” Karst heard Colin yell.

Karst ran out of his tent.

Colin pointed toward a blood covered Pete as he stumbled into camp and collapsed to the ground. Karst’s legs wouldn’t move. Colin and Andrew, who’d just clamored from his tent, ran to Pete.

“He’s not breathing! Someone’s bashed in his head!” Andrew yelled.

Karst’s heart bump bump bumped against his sternum so hard he felt like it was trying to escape and run away from all of this. Colin and Andrew turned back and glared at Karst.

“You!” Colin accused.

Karst felt sick. He shook his head.

Andrew breezed past him and into his tent where he pulled out his tool belt and held it up.

“Where the hell is it?!”

Karst couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He tried to answer that he didn’t know but he only mumbled. Andrew got into his face.

“You killed him?!”

Karst shook his head and felt chunks rising up his throat. He took a few steps away from Andrew and vomited. When he stood, he realized he felt exhilarated. Colin charged at him and Karst took off running for his horse, mounted it, and bolted out of camp.

Two weeks later - Afternoon

Karst dabbed his face and neck with his kerchief. He had been panning for gold all morning and the heat was getting to him more than it ever had when he roofed houses. No one had found anything since he’d gotten here two weeks ago. Every day was a slog, but he kept working – with his hat pulled low and his head down to keep from being spotted. His name and face were plastered all over the mining camp since Colin and Andrew arrived last week. Wanted for a reward. He couldn’t believe it. As if finding gold wouldn’t be enough of a reward for them. They had to have his head, too?

Karst sat back on his haunches. He hadn’t showered in days. They rationed the water. People coughed all around him. A woman off to his left vomited into the brush. He caught a man off to the side of his tent with the shits. Karst mostly kept to himself and tried not to pay attention to the other miners. If he did, all he saw was a cesspool of disgusting garbage and rot. He hated the merchants – making all their money off of the miners. But he felt certain he’d find gold. It’s the only thing that kept him going.

Karst’s vision blurred and went fuzzy around the edges. He noticed Colin and Andrew scoping out the camp and fields again, searching for him. Out for blood. Sweat poured down his chest and back. He needed food and water. He needed to sleep. Every night, Pete haunted him, threatening to bash his head in with a hammer. He wished he was never at Jackson’s Bar that night. He wished he could be rid of them all.

Karst’s vision tunneled, blackness creeping in toward the center of his eyes. His hearing faded out. He really needed water now. Karst stood and tried to get his bearings.

“Head out! They’ve struck gold west of here!” Another miner yelled to the men in the fields.

Karst knew this was it. He stumbled in the direction of the tents. Through his tunnel vision, he made out his tent and headed toward it until darkness overtook him and he blacked out.

When he came to, someone was giving him water, and his hearing faded back in to the chaos erupting around him. Miners frantically packed up their equipment and belongings. Someone screamed.

“These men have been attacked! Someone help me! They’re bleeding to death!”

Karst couldn’t move. He drank slowly until clarity returned and he realized the person giving him water was the man from the end of the bar. They stared at each other for a moment.

“Thanks,” Karst managed to say as the man helped him get back to his feet.

The man nodded and handed Karst his hammer.

“You dropped this.”