Saving Miner's Gulch by Kimberley Troutte

Author:Kimberley Troutte
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gold rush, caves, suspense action, mining history, ghost adventures, mining in fiction
Publisher: Kimberley Troutte

Chapter Seventeen

Present Day, Miner’s Gulch, California

Told by Johnny

Sneaking into Boyd’s Mercantile, I see Uncle Bill and a huge, bald man at the back of the store staring each other down. I grab Michael’s sleeve and make him duck behind a display of batteries and disposable cameras. Holding my breath, I wait to see if the men have noticed us. They haven’t.

Man, that dude is BIG, I think. WWE big like John Cena or The Rock. Uncle Bill doesn’t stand a chance.

Crouching down, Michael quietly sneaks around the side of the store to aisle seven—Household Goods. He wraps his hands around the handle of a broom, feeling the weight of it.

Following close behind, I shake my head. No way will a broom stop that mobster. Creeping like an army man behind enemy lines, I make it to aisle three—just two away from where Uncle Bill and Slick are having a standing off. I grab a bunch of rolls of duct tape and shove them up my arms like the wristbands Roman soldiers used to wear in olden days.

Michael comes up beside me, his eyebrows bunch up.

“Ammunition,” I mouth.

“Good.” Michael whispers into my ear. Quietly, he picks up a couple of small paint cans and a toilet plunger. I raise my eyebrows back at him. Toilet plunger?

He grins. Michael has a plan too. I can’t wait to see what it is.

The bald guy has wide shoulders and rippling muscles under his tan shirt. He growls, “Causing trouble can be harmful to your health, Rowe.” His meaning is clear, especially with a baseball bat resting against his thigh. “Capisce?”

“That’s good, Slick.” Uncle Bill shifts his stance, as if he’s trying to grow a couple of inches. “Did you buy one of those Italian for Dummies books?”

“You trying to be cute with me?” Slick bellows.

Michael and I move closer and peek through the shelves.

“I’m way past cute. Heading towards downright handsome, or so the ladies say. Guess you wouldn’t know much about that, right?” Uncle Bill tries to joke, but his voice is thin, like a rubber band that's been stretched too tight.

“Think you’re funny? You’re going to be laughing out the other side of your head.” Slick picks up the bat and makes a show of adjusting his grip on it. Just like I did with Randy. I don't think Slick is kidding, though. He takes a practice swing bringing the bat inches from Uncle Bill's jaw.

Uncle Bill jumps back. “Put that away before you break something.”

“Oh, I'm going to break something, all right.”

Big rings of sweat encircle my uncle's pits. To see a real adult, not some actor in a horror movie, but a real six-foot-tall man afraid? That terrifies me. Wiping my moist palms on my shorts, I inch closer.

“Capisce now?” Slick keeps adjusting his grip on the handle of the bat.

Uncle Bill’s face is an unnatural shade of white. He nods slowly.

Slick lowers the bat. “Good. Boss wants progress in this stinking town. Why he cares, I’ll never know. He’s too big-hearted.

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