Father O'Flanagan leads the group around the back of the chapel to a freshly filled in grave site.  It's quite small with a modest head stone amid a number of larger more ornate headstones.  Many are marked as Union or Confederate soldiers but are located on opposite sides of the graveyard. 

"My friend here," he gestures to the grave site, "owned that mine.  Was always convinced it would show something.  Said he could feel a fortune just beneath his feet, but he always got caught up with one thing or another in town.  Helped build and from time to time rebuild half of Selina.  He was a good man, owned the mine but he wasn't obsessed the way some get.  All those distractions, it took years but one day a few months ago, he said he was about to his fortune.  He knew it."

O'Flanagan points the group over to a small groundskeepers shack with a pile of equipment beside it.

"Came back to town to have a dinner with me one night, told me all about it, about all the good he was going to do when he sold that Ghost Rock off.  Sounded great, miraculous.  Old Charlie he bought up all that gear and lugged it, and a ton of vittles, out of town to complete his little project."  Wringing his hands he continues.

"Charlie come back the next day real quiet.  Didn't want to talk about the mine, or the rock, or the fortune.  Didn't bother to try to sell all that equipment.  Was always nervous and always hungry."

O'Flanagan is quiet for a bit.  He knows he hasn't really explained it right.  Don't much like to talk about it.

"He never really came back I mean.  His body were here.  His face.  It was Charles, but it wasn't.  Like them soldiers that see too much, you men must have seen that sort of thing right?  It was like that, but it was more.  We seen them men before and we can work through it most times.  This was different, Charles was different.  We collect up funds and goods at the chapel, feed the people, nourish their bodies and their souls like the Good Book says.  Charles couldn't get no nourishment.  When I say he was always hungry I mean it.  He'd eat enough food for three good grown men, still be hungry, and still lose weight.  By the end he was damn near skeletal."  

He dusts off the gravestone and continues, "He was a strong man.  Busy, always busy, and big lord he was a big man.  Yet in the end he was weak as a child and shriveled.  Wasted.  I can't stop you from looking for the mine, I don't doubt one of the louts about town shadowed him out about that way at some point.  I just want to warn you, Charles was a good Christian man.  He was strong in spirit and body and whatever he saw there broke his body and his spirit along with it."