When a beautiful day suddenly turns deadly Murphy finds himself in the middle of a perilous mystery and up against the dangerous criminal, the Black-Eyed Man and his gang.
Compelled to discover the truth and expose the criminals, Murphy leads his cousin Katrina on a risky adventure through the rain slicked streets of Juneau and Douglas and into the labyrinth of tunnels and shafts inside the abandoned and sealed Alaska Juneau gold mine.
What starts as curiosity soon becomes a dangerous struggle for survival and freedom as Murphy and Katrina face a new menace at every turn. Will Katrina’s special skills and a squad of unlikely allies be enough to tip the scale in their favor, or can nothing save them this time.
Chapter 1: Dangerous Den
Murphy recoiled in horror as the creature landed on his neck. He screamed when it flopped onto his face and omitted a high-pitched squeal next to his ear.
Frantically swatting the darkness in his panic, he twisted and lurched to get away, but his body was wedged in place. He dropped his phone and covered his face with one hand, flailing in the darkness with the other. To his relief, he was able to knock the beast off his head. He breathed heavily. He could hear his assailant flopping and scuffling nearby and he feared another attack. His body shivered involuntarily.
It’s just a bat . . . calm down, breathe.
Inhaling deeply, he counted to three as he drew air into his lungs, then he slowly exhaled to the count of three and repeated it. It was a technique Coach Troutman taught him in Junior wrestling class. It helped calm his panic when he was caught in a tight hold.
He wasn’t afraid of bats per se, but alone in the dark in a tight space was a whole other thing.
What if it’s a vampire bat? They don’t live in Alaska. But what if?
Tentatively running his hands over the ground in search of his phone, he still was not completely convinced the bat didn’t want to suck his blood.
Where’s my phone? Did the light go off? I hope I didn’t drop it down the . . .
At that moment the bat flapped its wings. Murphy shrunk away as a leathery appendage brushed his cheek. He listened as it gained flight. The sound grew fainter and he realized the bat had flown straight down into the chasm.
He gazed after it and noticed a faint glow of light. Pushing closer to the edge he peered over the rim. What he saw gave him hope. His cell phone was sitting upside down on a small ledge about an arm’s length away.
He dug the toes of his boots into the hard-packed earth and inched closer. Juniper branches dug into his back as protruding rocks pushed into his ribs. He stretched toward his phone. His fingers clutched at the air a few inches from it. With his free hand, he blindly searched for something to hold onto. His finger found a thick branch of the Juniper bush and he grasped it tightly.
He shoved with his feet and pulled with one hand, holding tightly to the juniper with his other. His body gained a few inches of progress so he tried for his phone again. His fingers touched it, but he couldn’t grasp it. He pushed and strained with all his might, only needing another inch.
Suddenly his brain registered a loud cracking sound, like you hear when a limb is torn from a tree. Murphy’s body suddenly jolted forward.
“No!”
The juniper branch tore loose in his hand. His body lurched again, his shoulders hung over the chasm. He was slowly slipping over the edge and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it.
His hands desperately sought purchase on the smooth rock at the top of the opening. His fingers worked feverishly at every small bump and crack, but they couldn’t find a safe purchase.
Gravity steadily pulled his body into the black void while he tried desperately to dig his toes into the hard earth.
Abruptly, he fell headfirst into the abyss. For a brief moment his boots hooked the rim but immediately slipped off. He plummeted into the unknown.
“Nooooooooooooo . . . ”
* * *
An hour earlier, Murphy and Katrina had stepped from the Mount Roberts tram at its terminus nearly two thousand feet above the historic streets of Juneau, Alaska’s capital city. With the sun high in a cloudless sky it was a rare and perfect day to launch the season.
It was fast becoming a tradition for the locals to take advantage of the first week of tram operation before the multitude of cruise ship visitors overwhelmed the tiny city and the tram itself. Many came to hike the trails, some came to photograph the spectacular scenery and wildlife, others came only to admire the astounding panorama and to enjoy a picnic lunch.
Hogan pulled hard at his leash. Murphy leaned back to slow him down but was forced into a slow jog to keep up.
“Slow down, Hoge, we just got here. We have all day.”
Hogan wanted to sniff everywhere at once. His pushed-up black nose worked feverishly as his bulging eyes darted in every direction and his white feet pranced impatiently.
Murphy pulled on the leash and raised his voice. “Hogan, calm down.”
At the mention of his name, Hogan wagged his stubby tail and circled back to lick Murphy’s hand.
“Do you smell the flowers?” Katrina called as she began skipping to keep up.
“Yeah, it’s awesome up here in the spring and the tram is always cool anytime. A bit scary, but worth it.”
“It is a pretty good adrenalin rush for six minutes. I always imagine the floor dropping away.” She adjusted her round-lensed, red-tinted sunglasses and smiled.
Murphy gulped. “Great, thanks for that thought, we still have to go down.” He had managed to slow Hogan down to a walk. They walked side by side for a moment, neither talking until he said, “I like it.”
“Like what?”
“Your hair.”
“Oh, okay, um, thanks.”
“What do you call it?”
“What?”
“The color.”
“Indigo.” Katrina’s hair was tied high in a single ponytail that seemed to erupt from the top of her head. The sun glinted off the luxurious deep blue color.
Modern Pebbles chic.
Murphy smirked.
“Can I ask you something?”
She was silent for an uncomfortable pause. “I guess.”
He smiled before asking, “Where did you find neon green hiking boots to match your neon green leggings, or was it the other way around?” He snickered and stepped away quickly.
“At least I don’t order my clothes from Outdoor Nerds are Us.”
“Mean.” He couldn’t help looking down at his tan cargo shorts, plain brown hiking boots, and navy T-shirt.
She smiled and batted her eye lashes.
He grimaced.
I should have known better.
Changing the subject, Katrina said, “Sorry your mom has the flu and couldn’t come. It was nice of her to send us anyway, but I am feeling a bit guilty. Maybe we should have stayed home and helped her out.”
Murphy was surprised it made him happy that she had referred to his home as her home. She stayed with them so often people thought they were siblings. The two of them found it easier to say they were cousins. It was basically true as their fathers were lifelong friends and the families were extremely close.
“My dad’s coming in this afternoon,” he told her. “He said he will nurse her back to health.”
“Your dad sure travels a lot.”
“What about your dad? He’s out crabbing all season.”
“Not the same, but I guess.” She stopped skipping.
Murphy glanced at her and noticed a distant look in her eyes.
They made their way to an observation deck close to the tram’s terminal. From there Murphy could see his home across Gastineau Channel in Douglas, Alaska. He could see most of Douglas Island and the snowy tops of the Chilkat Mountains in the distance to the west. They enjoyed the vast and beautiful scenery in silent reverie. Even Hogan seemed taken with the amazing vista. He sat quietly beside Murphy. The pink tip of his tongue protruded from his mouth and wiggled slightly as he breathed.
They eventually tore themselves away from the spectacular view and began walking. They passed a gaggle of first graders coming down the path. They were all holding onto a rope and were led by a harried Mrs. Harper. Murphy knew she was new to the Grade School, and this may have been her first field trip. Mr. Able, Murphy’s friend Mikey’s dad, was at the tail end of the rope. Daisey, Mikey’s little sister, was second from the end. As they passed Murphy waved at Daisey and smiled at Mr. Able who rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. Mr. Able was a building inspector during the day and he coached a men’s boxing club after work. From his gestures, it was apparent he’d met his match with a half dozen six-year-olds.
They passed the gift shop, the theater, and the bar and grill. The tram had delivered them approximately halfway up the nearly four-thousand-foot-high mountain.
They stopped to read the large sign mapping the hiking trail routes. Mount Roberts has a number of trails from easy to difficult. They chose a moderate three-mile trek that would take them through spruce forests, boulder-strewn alpine pastures, moss-covered rock glaciers and ending at a small glacier-fed lake in a picturesque mountain valley. They would wind their way back by a different route, one that followed the bubbly brook that drained from the lake.
After choosing their route, they set out. Strolling leisurely they following the wide gravel pathway through an alpine meadow. Small streams and waterfalls dotted the landscape. Murphy had a permanent smile plastered on his face.
Hogan stopped suddenly, woofed and stood erect. “What is it, boy?” Murphy reached down and scratched his ears.
A blur of red fur exploded across the trail a few feet in front of them. Hogan bolted, jerking Murphy from his feet and ripping the leash from his grasp. Murphy landed on his shoulder and his face at the side of the path but immediately sprang to his feet and brushed himself off. His cheeks exploded with a red bloom in his anger and embarrassment. He glanced about frantically and was just in time to see Hogan’s bouncing rear end and stubby tail disappear around a tall rock outcropping in the middle of a nearby meadow.
“Hogan, come.” Murphy called but Hogan didn’t come. Murphy repeated his command again and again but there was no Hogan.
“Wow.” Katrina appeared to be in awe and somewhat amused by the madcap spectacle she had just witnessed. She repeated herself. “Wow!”
As Murphy inspected a small cut on his knee, she plucked a chunk of fuzzy green moss from his hair.
He glanced at her and said, “Don’t start.”
“I know not of what you speak, oh graceful one.” She smiled demurely and took a step back.
“Very funny,” he sneered. “Just help me find the jerk.”
“I thought he always did what he was told,” she questioned. “Like, come when he’s called.”
“He usually does, but maybe he can’t hear me. Wait here. I’ll go get him.”
He didn’t look back and began jogging toward the stone obelisk where he had last seen Hogan’s white rear end disappear from sight.
He ran across a grassy meadow strewn with boulders and crumbling spires of decaying rock. At first, he tried not to step on the wildflowers, but there were too many and he cringed as he trampled through a patch of mountain crocus. The meadows were covered in a vibrant blanket that represented a kaleidoscope of color.
Murphy rounded the outcropping where Hogan had disappeared and was immediately confused. Stretched before him was a small sloping valley covered in nothing but moss-covered rocks and a vibrant carpet of flowers. There was absolutely nothing for a dog of Hogan’s size to hide behind.
“Hogan! Come, boy! Come now.” He called repeatedly but still there was no response. Murphy wandered the tiny valley calling Hogan’s name. Eventually he retraced his steps and arrived back at the last place he had seen his dog.
Murphy examined the craggy monolith. It was three times the size of his dad’s big SUV and twice as high as the monkey bars at school. The surface was cracked and porous, but he didn’t see any caves or fissures big enough for a full-grown Boxer to enter. As he circled it, he ran his hands along its surface as though searching for a hidden door. Low Mountain Juniper bushes grew along the base of the north side. He lay down on his stomach and peered under the lowest branches. There he saw an overhang and a space big enough for a fox or a dog. Far back under the shelf, he saw a black hole in the ground.
Could this be the fox’s den? Did Hogan follow it down there?
He peeled off his backpack, set it against the rock and squeezed his head and shoulders under the pungent branches. He inched toward the dark opening. It was a tight fit and he inched forward, struggling as the low branches dug into his back and tugged at his T-shirt. Grabbing the base of the bush he pulled while pushing with the toes of his boots. Slowly he neared the hole in the ground.
Repeatedly calling for Hogan he eventually got close to the darkened void. It was a struggle to retrieve his phone from his back pocket and turn on the light, but when he did, he was faced with a steep-sided deep opening about the size of a bicycle tire.
No way a fox went down there. How would it get out?
There was another recess on the other side of the hole. It was a wide crack in the rock that immediately turned a corner that he couldn’t see around, but he spotted a small tuft of reddish fur caught in a tiny crevasse where the opening disappeared around the corner. Both openings were small, but he realized Hogan could have fit in either.
Did he follow the fox? Did he fall?
“Hogan!”
He yelled into the breach. Then he yelled into the cavity across from him. He held his breath and listened. Nothing.
***
Excerpt from Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine by Bradford D. Smith. Copyright 2026 by Bradford D. Smith. Reproduced with permission from Bradford D. Smith. All rights reserved.
Bradford D. Smith grew up as an only child amongst a household of Huskies and Malamutes. At times, he thought they were his siblings. From the age of two, he lived in Atlin, British Columbia, a historic gold mining town nestled deep in the wilderness just south of the Yukon Border and connected to Alaska by the Juneau ice field. Brad grew up without radio or television in a time before video machines and home computers were common. Books and reading were important entertainment and in the dark, subzero winter months, they became paramount to the sound mental survival of many. Brad’s mom read to him before he was born and throughout his childhood. This instilled an intense curiosity deep within him and an insatiable appetite to satisfy it. Brad read everything he could find and at a young age, he was reading books his mother enjoyed about arctic explorers, prospectors, trappers and first nations people. His latest book, a young adult mystery, Murphy and the Mystery of the Black Skull, was shaped by his own fascination with the mystery genre as a young adult. Updated to fit today’s times, he leans heavily on the style of writing he himself enjoyed as a young teen. This book is sprinkled with real world places and the author’s love of history is quickly exposed in this fast-paced adventure. Brad has lived and worked in many places across Alaska over the years including Juneau. He still works in Arctic Alaska seasonally and lives with his wife in central BC, Canada with their pack of dogs.
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