Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) Read Free

sample pegged the first couple of scales, each scale being ten times stronger. I went to higher and higher scales until I finally got a reading. T wenty - thousand counts per second. Very, very , hot rock. I re - bagged the rock chips and grabbed a couple of the old cloth sample bags and shoved them in my backpack.
    The mine floor was covered with an inch or two of water from seepage. Moving down the adit, I kind of shuffled along. The roof of the working was clean , and I could pretty well make out the vein structure and geology . The pay zone appeared to be a big quartz vein sandwiched between a granodiorite, a type of granite, and schist .
    I pulled out my Brunton c ompass and took a bearing down the strike of the vein. Two hundred eighty degrees to the northwest. I followed the overhead vein , taking Geiger readings and knocking off and bagging fresh samples . I was already spending the money when the floor disappeared from under my feet , and I was underwater.
    I immediately knew two things . The first being , that I had stepped into a flooded vertical winze , a shaft connecting one or more mine levels . A nd secondly , I could be in serious trouble.
    B obb ing back to the surface , I manag ing to hang onto my hard hat and compass. D rown if I must , but no way in hell was I losing my antique solid - brass Brunton. Treading water, I pocket ed my compass and adjusted my hard hat and light and looked around . I ’ d stepped off into a winze al l right. W alked right into it like a first - semester geology student . I ’ d made a classic amateur mistake of not cutting a walking stick to probe for holes as I be - bopped down the mine . . . u n - damn ed believable.
    There was only one choice . P ull myself out. I kicked my way to the edge of the winze but could n ’ t quite get a hold with my finger s . My main malfunction was all the weight I was carrying. The damned samples in my backpack were threatening to pull me under. One thing about uranium ; it ’ s a seriously heavy mineral .
    I managed to shrug out of my backpack. Kick ing as hard as I could to stay afloat , I shot-putted my pack to solid ground on the portal side of the adit . I could stay afloat now , but need ed to find a place to crawl out. T he water smelled like dead rats and was cold as ice.
    Now in full - blown survival mode with Mr. Hypothermia tapping me on the shoulder, I worked my way into a corner of the winze , where I could get some leverage with my steel - toed boots. Using my rock hammer like an ice pick and jamming my toes into any purchase, I managed to pull and crawl my way out.
    My ascent from the abyss probably wouldn't have made the next issue of Rock Climber , but I made it out . Cold and smelling like w eek - old kitty litter , I g rabb ed my pack and headed , a bit more cautiously, back to the portal .
    Clearing the portal , I went straight to Montana Creek and cleaned up as best I could . I draped my clothes over h uckleberry bushes and laid out my gear and myself over several large , flat, sun - warmed boulders.
    I ’ d nearly drowned in some damned stinking mine , and now , lying bare-assed in the sun , my mind start ed drifting back to my last date with Tina. Jesus, I thought , g uys really are hopeless.
    After a nap, I put my mostly dry clothes back on and rounded up my gear. I was anxious to see how the samples looked in sunlight. I opened a couple of sample bags and e xamin ed several of the larger rock chips with my ten - power hand lens . I confirmed the presence of c halco pyrite, a copper sulfide, secondary copper minerals, pyrite, and a ton of pitchblend e .
    Holy moly . . . this could be good , I thought as I bagged up the samples.

 
     
     
     
     
    C hapter 2
    I hardly remember the walk back down to the Bronco. All I could think about was the rich uranium ore . I p ull ed my cell phone out of the glove box and checked the signal . B arely two bars. I dialed Will ’ s cell phone and managed to g e t through.
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