A tale of lost gold, a deadly curse and the quest to solve a hundred year old mystery.
Somewhere in the steep, rugged mountains surrounding Pitt Lake, British Columbia, is a fabulous hidden treasure: a lost gold mine. Slumach was executed for murder in 1891, but as the noose was placed around his neck, he cursed his secret glory hole and anyone who ever tried to find it. Over the next century, at least forty people have died and many others were injured in the hunt for this long lost legend. And still, year after year, the search goes on.
UBC Professor, Dr. Paul Gregory and his pretty graduate assistant Bev Dayton with their colorful native guide Simon George, collide head-on with con-men Kevin Macarthur and Randy Smith, as both parties try to solve a mystery that has baffled seasoned prospectors and tenderfoots alike for over a century.
"Nika memloose . . . Mine memloose" (When I die, the mine dies.)
Excerpt
January 16, 1891
It was almost sunup in the Fraser Valley. The only light visible on Blackwood Street, shone from the window of the local parish where Father Morgan stood in his long johns, sipping his morning coffee. His breakfast, two poached eggs, a thick slice of back bacon and a tea biscuit sat cold. Untouched. He was thinking of other things.
William Morgan was a squat, heavy-set man with wide cheekbones and a rather broad nose. His thick crown of red hair had begun receding when he was only in his early twenties, and now at fifty-one, he was almost bald. All that remained were two small tuffs, one above each ear, and a thin band of hair across the back. The scalp on top of Father Morgan's head looked tight and shiny. Two pale blue eyes loomed out intensely larger than life from behind the lenses of his small wire-framed glasses.
Father Morgan picked up a clean, white handkerchief from the oak dresser, quartered it, honked rather loudly, and then inspected the results. Unsatisfied, he honked again twice as hard and pulled the hanky open. This time the result must have been more satisfactory; he dropped the cloth back on top of the dresser and grumbled his way across the room to fix a second cup of coffee. His joints were achy this morning. It must be the weather, he thought. "Or maybe I'm just getting old," he sighed. "C'est la vie."
The living quarters at the rear of St. Peter's, were small and sparsely furnished. There was a pine table and chair set crammed in front of a roll-top desk and oak wardrobe, a small alcove that housed a tiny pantry cluttered with dirty dishes, and a threadbare, wing-back chair where Father Morgan liked to do his daily reading. Besides his quota of Scripture, he was currently enjoying Satires by Horace in the original Latin. The kerosene lamp on top of the table flickered constantly, bathing the ceiling and walls in an ever changing cobweb of light and shadows.
Father Morgan finished dressing and yawned sleepily. Dry alder crackled fiercely in the cast iron cook stove, occasionally spitting out a spark or two from the open draught.
Father Morgan pulled out his gold plated, Hamilton pocket-watch. It read 6:05 a.m. He gulped down the last of the coffee, wishing it was something stronger. It was not uncommon for the good Father to consume an occasional pipe of tobacco or snifter of brandy. A model of convention he was not, quite to the contrary, Father Morgan thought of himself as devout, but not self-righteous and stuffy like some men of the cloth. He was comfortable with his humanity and he liked to think of himself as a practical man. Leave the ritual and dogma to someone else.
"Yaahhh," another yawn escaped him. He was still half asleep. Most mornings, he set his alarm for 7:45, but this morning the service was at dawn. Father Morgan walked over to the door with little enthusiasm and pulled his coat from the brass hat rack.
Brisk gusts of icy wind assaulted the open door. It was blowing up the hill from the frozen river below. Father Morgan shivered. It had been an exceptionally cold winter to date. He fixed his overcoat snugly at the collar and wrapped the thick, woolen scarf tightly across his cheeks--one of the ladies in the congregation had knit it for him--there was a fair walk ahead and he didn't cherish the thought of getting frostbite.
Swirls of frost hung on the outside of the parish windows in delicate sculptures of tiny crystals. The churchyard, framed against a background of tall firs, their boughs straining under a heavy burden of fresh snow, looked surreal and foreboding against a pale grey sky. In the graveyard, tombstones poked their heads up defiantly through the thick, white blanket, taunting the living with their grim prophecy: "Nika memloose, mine memloose."
Father Morgan uttered a quick prayer under his breath, and then made his way gingerly down the slippery plank walk to the white picket gate. His breath was frosty.
"Morning, Father."
"Good morning, Jake," Father Morgan replied to a passerby, shutting the gate behind himself.
"Nice day."
"Yes, it is. Awfully chilly though, don't you think?"
"Aye. 'Tis that." The two men stopped and faced each other.
"Today's the day."
"Yes."
"'Bout time, I say."
"Yes. Well, all in God's time, I like to say. I'd better get going though. I mustn't be late. Bye, Jake."
"Bye, Father." Jake turned and started walking away. "See you in church on Sunday!"
Father Morgan smiled and gave a quick wave with his mitten. Then he headed in the opposite direction down Royal Avenue towards Eighth Street.
Professional Reviews
Recommended Read!
Action-packed adventure about a college professor, his graduate assistant, and his colorful guide, who defy a death curse and go in search of a lost gold mine in British Columbia.
-The Online Review of Books
Very Good!
Gold fever can be deadly. The lost mine of Slumach calls to those who desire the untold riches of the legendary tales. But there is a curse upon the mine and those who seek it. Their worst nightmares come to life as they trek closer to the hidden gold and most never make it out of the rugged mountain terrain alive. Slumach was executed for murder in 1891. In the previous months it is said that he would come into town with bags of gold nuggets. Anyone who tried to follow him was never seen alive again. Just as his execution was being fulfilled, he muttered a curse…"When I die, the mine dies." And so it was, so it seems. The story follows Professor Paul Gregory and his young assistant Bev Dayton, and also a couple of lowlife criminals, Kevin McCarthur and Randy Smith, as they follow through with intentions to find Slumach's lost mine. Do they beat the odds and come away with bags of gold? Time will tell, but they do find the realization of their own nightmares. The story is an interesting one and a temptation to anyone who has ever wondered about gold fever. The author has created very deep backgrounds for the characters so that the reader will truly understand the nature of the curse in the end. Edgar Ramsey shows a knack for detail and description. Overall, the book is a good read.
-Bookreview.com
A Must Read!
Here is a horror thriller that captivates the imagination with mystery, violence and interests that make a fast paced read with a dramatic tale . . . If you enjoy a horror/mystery read, don't miss this one!
After Satan negotiates a pact with God and unleashes his army of demons, a secret sect battles a diabolical prophecy that threatens humanity.
Release Date: November 21, 2018
