“A newspaper? Well, I’ll be!” Victoria released a good-natured laugh, and placed a hand on Jess’ shoulder. “Onyx Landing is shapin’ up to be a real town after all. You come by, once you get ‘er set up. I think I might like a subscription to our local paper.”<br/><br/>She took a moment to acknowledge the men with a nod, especially the one armed man who was a new face, before turning back to the saloon to face Cassie. It wasn’t quite worth her time to sweat out her hairstyle for five dollars. Besides, she had to get started on the day, and it looked like there was enough help to be had among men outside.<br/><br/>“Mornin’ Cassie,” she greeted, heading for the kitchen of the saloon. “No trouble yet, but the day is young. If you wanna help with breakfast, I can get you one of the first plates out.” Without waiting for a response, she began stacking wood in the stove, and struck match. Once she got a fire going, she started mixing up a big pot of grits, the sort of cheap and filling meal the miners around here could afford.<br/><br/>“I was plannin’ on visitin’ the bank today,” she called to Cassie, while stirring the pot with a heavy wooden ladle, “And I would like you to join me. Don’t usually have much trouble makin’ desposits, but an extra set of eyes won’t hurt none.”<br/><br/>From the kitchen window, she had a good view of the station, and just as she was serving up the first bowl, the train arrived. “Hopefully that’s got my shipment of alcohol.” But as she watched the unfamiliar workers disembark, and unload unfamiliar inventory, she questioned her original assumption. And as the young woman stepped off, she came to another conclusion entirely.<br/><br/>As far as Onyx Landing was concerned, Victoria Freeman was wealthy. Well, perhaps<i>comfortable</i>was more accurate. But she owned the ground beneath her feet, and helped to build up the rest of the town. Why, if left to Grand Ventures Corporation, Onyx Landing would be little more than two score tents set up around the mountain, and not even an outhouse for comfort.<br/><br/>Regardless of her own circumstances, Victoria recognized true wealth.  She’d served long enough on a plantation, polishing silverware and laundering linens. Hell, the newcomer might be even better placed than her own former master. After all, miss newcomer had herself some white men working for her. They didn’t come as cheap as the freedmen, after all.<br/><br/>She scooped another serving of grits into a fresh bowl. “Now, now, now. What’s brought big money to Onyx Landing?”<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/><br/>Bodies were carried out of the mine, on cots with canvas covering each one. By all accounts, it was supposed to be a dozen, but only nine bodies made it out, and only six of those could really be called bodies. The last three were just pieces, arranged in the semblance of a human bodies, but ripped limb from limb until they were hardly recognizable anymore.<br/><br/>The injuries were nothing anyone had seen before, and certainly nothing anyone expected. No punctures from pickaxes or blows to the back of the head from a shovel. No, these men had been clawed and torn. By each other, if the blood-stained hands and mouths were any indication.<br/><br/>Nine bodies were arranged in three rows before the entrance of the mine, and gathered around the bodies were the surviving miners, watching with a morbid curiosity and waiting on the arrival of the preacher.