Saint Agnes, summer of 1860.
I examined the photograph.
The boy’s face was unmistakably Gideon’s.
But something else caught my attention.
A small shape protruded from the child’s coat pocket.
It looked like a tiny knitted mitten.
I touched the photograph.
Gideon stared at it for a long time before writing:
The day before the explosion.
He told me the story through several pages of the notebook.
Saint Agnes had once been the most profitable mine in the valley.
Daniel Rook served as chief engineer, overseeing the underground drainage system.
The mine lay beside an old network of water channels that fed Coldwater Creek.
One autumn afternoon in 1860, an explosion tore through the lower galleries.
Six men died, including Daniel.
Gideon had been visiting the mine office.
The blast threw him against a stone wall.
He survived with severe injuries to both ears.
By the time rescuers carried him out, he could no longer hear ordinary speech.
An investigation blamed Daniel for mishandling the blasting powder.
His reputation was destroyed.
His widow died two years later, leaving Gideon with little besides the family ranch.
Yet Gideon had never believed his father caused the explosion.
He inspected every fuse himself, he wrote.
“Then who caused it?”
His pencil paused.
I remember fire.
Chapter 1: The Creature Beneath His Skin 027
