Boston, 1849
During the night, Arthur Bell had a dream.
He dreamt that he was sleeping in a tiny log cabin, deep in the woods.
He was dreaming that rain was falling on the roof, when there came a violent banging against the door. Startled, he jumped from his narrow cot and rolled under it, frightened by the powerful blows that had awoken him.
“Arthur!” a deep voice boomed. “Arthur!”
And then Arthur woke up.
But after he’d gone back to sleep, the booming voice called out his name again. This time, it was even louder, and Arthur reeled awake.
Three times the voice called him, and three times he woke up, breathless. He decided that this was a terrible way to spend the night, and he wouldn’t ignore the voice again.
He fell asleep, and the voice returned.
“For crying out loud, what do you want?” Arthur yelled, humiliated by the quiver in his voice.
“Come out here, sleepy head!” the voice commanded.
Arthur opened the door. He found himself standing before a towering man dressed in a brilliant white robe. His eyes were piercing green, and his hair hung in brown ringlets. The giant man’s mouth had a slight grin. His shoulders were as wide as a church door.
“Come on, Arthur!” the man said.
“But it’s raining,” Arthur replied.
The tall man turned and beckoned.
Arthur followed him into the driving rain.
Even though it was dark and raining, in the far-off distance Arthur could see a mountain illuminated by light. It lit the path that he and the big man walked on.
They walked for a long time, until Arthur’s legs began to ache. They came at last to a giant wooden sign that had the words MAMMON’S END carved into it in large letters. Beyond the sign, bathed in rain and lit by the silver moon, was an army of men digging holes in the ground. Arthur couldn’t tell if they were digging for gold or digging their own graves. The mass of hunched men stretched on and on to the horizon, where Arthur could now see daylight.
The big man told him that it was a graveyard for all the men from around the world who pursued riches in the goldfields.
“Here,” the big man said. He handed Arthur an onion. “You have to break the spell.”
Arthur looked at the onion. “I don’t understand!” he yelled over the storm.
“Show them. Onions are better than gold.”
“There’s too many of them!”
The man in white gestured toward the hunched-over men. “They need you. It’s time.”
Arthur woke up again. He sat up in bed and laughed so hard his ribs hurt.
“It was like . . .” he later said to his business partner in farm produce, Ernest Welbourn. “It was like seeing lightening for the first time. I was awestruck, but the thunder scared me down to my bones.”
“What do you think it means?”
“It’s obvious. It’s a sign from God.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’ve been praying about where to expand our business. And God answered. I’ll head to California.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Lots of people die trying: gunmen, Indians, disease . . .”
“You forgot falling off cliffs.”
“Yeah, that one too.”
Arthur looked his friend in the eye. “It’s my job to expand our business. And God has shown me the way. Who am I to refuse His direction?”
Ernest looked away from his friend and out to the horizon. “You’re probably right, Arthur. God’s helped us so far; why would He stop now? Who knows, you might finally find a bride. Lord knows you can’t find anyone in Boston.”
Arthur slapped his business partner on the shoulder. “Who knows, brother?”
This is the story of Arthur Bell, son of a wealthy Boston criminal who is called by God to expand his farm-produce-business to the goldfields of the Western Frontier. He travels hundreds of miles and faces grave dangers as he searches for the mountain in his vision, for a place that he can call home.
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KELLY MUNROE is a writer of Western Romances.