Re: Sad Day for HDRKID - Just As I Predicted!
I'm an old time Gold Prospector, and I have a "secret" spot for mining GOLD ... want to trade Deed of Trust for a map ?
I happened to be typing this out (an excerpt from my 450 page unpublished novel) when I read your Golden comments!
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On Saturday, October 7th, 1871, a few miles to the south and west of where Randall Hode's body rested, fifteen-year-old Raymond Stamper lay on his back beneath a maple tree poring intently at a well-thumbed pamphlet. He was studying a line drawing of a bewhiskered prospector and his gold pan.
"Clyde?"
"Yup."
"Read me this part, again." Raymond extended the pamphlet to his brother with a sooty thumb beneath the passage in question.
"Hell," said Clyde, "Don't you know it by heart?" He took the pamphlet and traced out the words with his finger. "It says, "It is part of the lore of the Golden State, that a penniless prospector with no more worldly goods than a pan and a lump of sourdough, walked into the gold fields one day, a failure in the eyes of men, and walked out the next day with a pocketful of gleaming nuggets, to file his claim for a Glory Hole.' " Clyde looked at the booklet with distaste."This ain't nothing but cow manure," he said.
"Gold ain't cow manure," Raymond said, "I heard a man say at the store that his brother was in California getting rich beyond his dreams. His wild-ded-dess dreams."
"You might have asked the man what he was doing here prying stumps out of the swamp if that was true."
Raymond surveyed their domain of stumps, brush, broken trees, and hacked off pine boughs reddish-brown with age. "I sure wish I was in California, rich or not."
"Well, you ain't," said Clyde, "Do I have to whomp you to get you off your butt?"
"Nah," replied Raymond, "The ants was getting to me anyhow."
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