The dully lit, mahogany-paneled board room looked like the sort of place one might see a ghost if they were ever stuck there alone there on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The spontaneous creaks and knocks coming through the vents certainly didn’t help…
The air smelled like musty cardboard as we all went around, casting our votes. The matter before us had to do with the family’s old gold mine, and how to squeeze the biggest profit out of it.
The “Big Mammoth”, as it was called, had been productive in its younger days, though the ‘elders’ had never seen a single nugget come out of it. Digging for gold, after all, wasn’t in their purview. Real estate speculation, however, very much was. Since most of them had already outlived their retirements, the stakes were high for them.
The initial proposal was to sell the mine to one of the up-and-coming casinos, which, at the time, were chomping at the bit to get in on the action in Central City, Colorado. What started out as a burgeoning gold rush in the valley had since given way to a new game of chance…
“Every casino needs a parking lot,” Auntie Beth said in a soft, albeit confident tone. She had the demeanor of a proper lady from an earlier time “The ‘Mammoth is in the perfect spot, too. I just know they’ll pay top dollar for it.”
Now, Auntie Beth had been an unassuming business mogul in the past, with a beehive hairdo dyed bright copper in color, making her look like a cartoon version of her actual self. Her thick“mia brown” style eyeglasses sought to preserve not only her vision, but also the peak of her success from back in the ‘70’s.
Uncle Raymond, on the other hand, was having none of it–
The old, overweight cowboy was wearing a blue, brown and white striped “snap” shirt, with pearl buttons desperately clinging to each other like a band of children playing “Red Rover”. Somehow, his white Stetson hat, with its leather band inlaid with turquoise, made his bad teeth look almost as respectable as Auntie Beth’s mannerisms.
In his typical way, he cleared his throat and said, “Well now, Bethie, those casinos don’t want none of what the ‘Mammoth has goin’ on. You oughta know that… And now the whipper snapper needs to know.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to me.
At eighteen years old, I had no place in that room. Yet with my grandparents having passed on, and the dirt from my father’s grave still bare, I was the one my siblings decided to send. For some reason, they had faith in me representing their stake in the mine.
I had to choose something.
“Why wouldn’t a casino buy it?” I deftly asked.
“They would,” Auntie Beth declared, “and because of its location, they’ll probably pay a few hundred thousand for it!”
“Is that good?”
The elders snickered mildly to themselves. “Yes, that’s very good.”
Uncle Raymond laughed a raspy laugh. “Don’t believe that hogwash, boy,” he insisted. “It’s fool’s gold! And as soon as anyone finds out what’s in that mine, they’ll know it too.”
The tension started rising in the room, although it was the sort of lethargic suspense you’d expect from a group of stoic elders.
A few more creaks and knocks echoed through the vents as I scanned the room, trying to get a sense of what was going on. But, everyone was trying, uncomfortably, to find something else to do with their eyes rather than look at me.
I got the feeling they knew something I didn’t.
“Oh Raymond,” Auntie Beth said, “you’re just being superstitious. You know none of that’s true.”
In the stagnant silence that followed, I noticed the smell of cardboard again. Or was it old, flaky skin? I couldn’t quite tell.
Finally, when I realized that nobody was prepared to either agree or disagree with Auntie Beth, I asked, “What are you guys talking about? What’s in the mine?”
Although I couldn’t actually see Uncle Raymond’s eyes beneath the brim of his hat, I knew he was looking at me when he said, “Tell you what… Go up there and see for yourself. Maybe he’ll be there to give you a tour.”
“Who?”
I felt my heart skip a beat…
More excited than fearful.
“The caretaker.”
“Raymond! You know there’s no caretaker,” Auntie Beth interrupted with the stern impatience of a family’s matriarch. “You’re just. Being. Superstitious.”
I could see that Raymond’s neck was starting to glisten with sweat.
“Oh he’s there,” he said, this time with an uncharacteristic seriousness. “He’s been there the whole time.”
The room suddenly felt stifling hot, and I understood why Raymond was sweating so profusely. I tugged at the collar of my “Tommyknockers” t-shirt a few times.
Auntie Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything to refute her brother’s claim.
“You’ll see,” Raymond said. “He’ll tell you why none of those casinos is gonna buy the ‘Mammoth.”
“Well, where will I find him?” I asked with a parched throat.
Raymond flashed his signature crooked-toothed smile. “Just go up there,” he said. “He’ll be there.”
So, with no final decisions about the future of Big Mammoth being made, I left with a soupy blend of intrigue, anxiety and confusion sloshing around in my gut.
Maybe it was the excitement of driving up to the mountains alone. Or maybe it was just the relief of breathing fresh air again…
Either way, I was headed to Central City to visit the Big Mammoth gold mine, wondering the whole way if I would run across the caretaker: a man that none of the family elders could even agree existed…
Almost like he was a ghost.
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