The first rider leapt off his horse and knelt beside a large gray dog. “Bloody hell! It’s been shot in the head.” He stood up and spotted another one, and another. He ran to his horse, mounted and furiously charged across the shallow depression toward the cowboys.
Later that day, at Fort Laramie, the irate Englishman demanded justice from the Scottish cattleman. He received scant sympathy, nationalism aside, and the army sided with the Scotsman. The Englishmen had taken their two surviving dogs and departed.
Next week, a party of three Germans was expected, bear hunters, so Simon stood for a few more minutes, enjoying the quiet. He was about to go back in when Buell came out.
“Got up last night to take a leak. Knew this mornin’ was gonna be a beauty.” He stretched. “That Spud?” He pointed at a fleeting shape, racing belly down along the riverbank.
“Yup. Rabbit.” Simon smiled as the dog suddenly changed direction and lunged at something on the ground. And then the dog stood stationary. “Looks like he got his breakfast.”
“Well, let’s go get ours.” Buell stepped off the porch and headed across the road. Simon followed.
They were halfway through breakfast when Tay pushed the door open and came into the saloon.
“Look what crawled out of the hills,” Simon said, getting out of his chair.
“Ain’t no need ta git up, t’ain’t royalty.” The smile on Tay’s face looked wide enough to hook on both ears.
“Good ta see ya, Tay,” Buell said. He, too, got out of his chair.
“Got back a week ago and got tired a waitin’ fer ya to come visit. Walks Fast was there, no su’prise. Tol’ me ’bout yer English cust’mers gittin’ their blue noses put outta joint. That were a good’n. Tol’ me about the other stuff too.” His brow furrowed for a moment, and then he smiled.
“Had yer breakfast?” Buell asked.
“Hell no, and ya owe me one, if I rec’lect,” he said to Simon. He arched an eyebrow.
“Absolutely. Sit down. What do you want to eat?”
“Eggs. It’s one o’ them things ya can’t have when yer roughin’ it. I could eat a half dozen.”
“I’ll go tell Lori. Ham? We got some good ham.”
“Sure, and some coffee. Got any o’ that canned milk, and some white sugar?”
“Comin’ right up.” Simon went into the kitchen.
“How was the gold huntin’?” Buell asked after a minute.
“By jigger, I think I’ve found it.” Tay’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s wait fer Simon so’s I don’t have to tell it twice.”
“Tell what?” Simon asked from the door.
“Tay struck it rich.”
“Didn’t say that. I said I think I found it.”
Simon set a cup of coffee in front of Tay, then unloaded his arm of the sugar bowl with spoon and a milk can. The old man dumped three heaping scoops of sugar into the cup, and poured in milk until the cup wouldn’t hold any more. Carefully picking up the drink, he slurped three or four times and sighed. “That’s good.” He settled back in his chair.
“Well, start tellin’,” Buell said eagerly.
“Still snow when I got there this spring, and I took my time goin’ in. Saw Sioux several times and had to cold camp fer four days once. I don’t think they were lookin’ fer me, jist movin’ around.”
“So how do ya hide?” Buell asked.
“Ya stay outta sight. Troublin’ part is keepin’ the damn animals from fussin’. Stick ’em together if ya can. Anyhow, I fin’ly got to the creek I was at in sixty-eight without gittin’ spotted and set up my camp.”
“Meanin’?” Buell looked at Tay intently.
“Meanin’ I pitched my tent back in the trees, and found a place to put the horse and mule.”
“The trees so ya won’t get seen? Right?”
“Exactly. Ya sure are in’erested, Buell. Figger on goin’?”
“Might. And yer right, it’s interesting.”
“Well, ya put yer tent in the trees, and cover it with pine branches. Don’t use the brush, ’cause it’ll turn yellow on ya in a week and stick out like a wart.”
“So you’ve got your camp all set. Go ahead,” Simon said to Tay. He frowned at Buell.
“Like I said, I was up in sixty-eight and found some good color in that creek, but never had the chance ta foller it up. This year, I had water aplenty, and I panned upstream fer over a mile ’fore I found where the gold was comin’ from. In one spot, I was pickin’ three or four nice nuggets in every hole. Then the next move upstream, nothin’. In between there was a draw with no water runnin’ out and I went up ’er. Where she leveled out a bit, I dug a couple dozen holes. Then I hit a spot where I could fill one pan’yer, haul it down to the creek and pan half an ounce. I’d found it.”
“So what did ya do with it?” Buell asked, his eyes glittering.
“Whatcha mean, what’d I do with it? I brought it out.”
“Well, ya got any with ya?”
Tay chuckled. “Sure do.” He stretched back in his chair, and pulled a pouch from his pocket. It made a decided thump when he dropped it dramatically on the table. “Open ’er up.” He pushed it toward Buell.
It took a minute for Buell to untie the knot in the leather thong. Finally, he got it unwound and the bag open, then shook some of the contents into the palm of his hand. “Oh.” He uttered the single word as he stared at the bright yellow pieces in his hand.
“Impressive, ain’t it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Simon said. He reached over and picked a nugget out of Buell’s hand.
“Got near a hundred ounces of that. And the good Lord knows how much more is left up there. I was still diggin’ in gravel, no bedrock to be seen.” Tay could not hide his excitement.
“Why’d ya quit?” Buell asked.
“Water run out. Ya only got a few weeks ’fore the creek dries up. Can’t be packin’ it too far or you’re gonna git caught. Wish’ta hell the Indians’d let us in there. But that ain’t likely. Them hills’re sacred to ’em.”
“The newspaper says there’s a lot of agitating by settlers to be allowed in,” Simon said. “And the politicians in Washington are talkin’ about letting them.”
“Not without a fight, and we’ve seen how them Sioux kin fight,” Tay said.
Lori came out of the kitchen with a serving tray. She set a plate of eggs in front of Tay, then unloaded a plate full of ham and fried bread. A dish of fresh butter and a honey crock followed. She spied the gold as she laid his knife and fork down. “Good Lord, look at that.” Her eyes fixed on the dazzling chunks lying beside the pouch.
Tay’s equally intense gaze was directed at the food. “Service like thet’s gotta be rewarded, pretty lady.” He reached over and picked up the biggest nugget in the pile and handed it to her. “There ya go, that’n is yers.”
“I’ve never seen it natural before. This one is shaped like a footprint. I love it. Thank you very much.” She leaned over, lifted Tay’s hat, and kissed the top of his head.
“Oh, pshaw, yer welcome. Meant to be spent, and I kin see this is gonna be worth it.” He picked up his fork and slid a ten-inch-wide ham steak onto his plate. Then he speared a piece of bread.
Lori smiled as he fit one whole egg in his mouth and chewed, cheeks bulging. She went back into the kitchen, admiring the nugget.
Simon and Buell examined the gold as Tay demolished everything Lori had brought him. Finished, he leaned back in his chair and patted his taut belly. “Damn, that was wonderful. What’n hell’s she put on them eggs?”
“Don’t ask me. I just know she’s a fine cook,” Simon said.
“So, ya think you’ve found a place where ya could make enough for life?” Buell asked.
“That’s the funny part about gold huntin’, Buell, ya never know. I may have got it all, and then again, I may have just scratched it. Ya dig till it’s gone.”
“How did ya know where to look?”
“Ya look at the rocks. Gold is around qu
artz. Copper says there might be gold, too, and copper’s green, easy ta see. Quartz, ya gotta git yer nose right into the stuff. Knock chunks offa outcrops and take a good look. Or you’ll see bits a quartz in the gravel. Ya see it, pan some, and see if ya find black sand, that’s a good sign. Then ya pan upstream till it gits better. Keep at it till ya run out of water or time. That’s if’n the Indians don’t run ya off first.”
“And nobody knows where ya were?”
“I’m countin’ on that, Buell. Gold does funny things ta men.” Tay looked at him closely. “Turns good men bad and bad ones worse. Kin make one friend bushwhack another.”
“Doesn’t seem to have hurt you any,” Simon said.
“I ain’t never had a partner, and never will.” Tay watched Buell’s reaction. “I kin see thet don’t make ya happy. If I was to take on a partner, and I won’t, I couldn’t ’magine a better one than either you or Simon. But it’s jist cuz I like ya both that I wouldn’t. I’ll be plumb tickled to show ya how ta look, teach ya what I know, but I can’t take ya with me.”
“Makes sense, I s’pose,” Buell said, the disappointment plain on his face.
“That’s the way it’s gotta be.”
“Is there any around here?” Simon asked.
“Sure. Matter a fact, there’s gold on the creek where I hole up. Not enough to make it worth chasin’, but there’s some there all right.”
“Maybe you can show me and Buell how to pan. What do ya say, Buell?”
“I dunno, if there’s not enough to really find something.”
“Be glad ta show ya anytime. Come out early one mornin’ and I’ll fix ya breakfast. And then we’ll go poke around.”
“Aren’t ya gonna work with the army?” Buell asked.
“I got enough now I ain’t gonna even tell the army I’m back. Gonna be a real relaxed winter fer ol’ Tay. And I think I’ll be back here fer the ’casional breakfast.”
“I want to learn how,” Simon said. “Seeing it there on the table makes me want to find some for myself.”
“I know the feelin’, Simon. Ya been bit. I’ll offer my ’pologies later. Now, what’s chances a gittin’ ’nuther cup a coffee?” He held his cup out.
Simon returned with a fresh cup, and the two young men listened to Tay for another hour, fascinated, as he described the Black Hills country.
A week passed before Simon found the time to visit Tay. When Simon asked if Buell wanted to go, he’d mumbled something about the damn dog and a bad night, then rolled over.
The cool air, almost cold, felt good as Simon gazed in appreciation at the golden display of fall colors. Spud kicked up a forty-bird flock of ducks, overnighting in a beaver pond. Three deer sprinted from the creek bottom to the shelter of the trees when he rounded the point below Tay’s place. Tay’s horse whinnied a greeting as Simon rode up to the dugout.
The old man poked his head out the door. “ ’Mornin’. Git in here and help me eat these taters.”
“Stay there, Spud.” Simon pointed to a spot outside the door. The dog’s ears drooped and he lay down with a sigh.
“Mutt kin come in,” Tay said.
“Nope. He ate something rotten last night and his farts’ll crack your teeth. Best he stays right there.”
“Yer dog. Grab a plate and help yerself. I always make too much spuds. There’s bacon too.”
The two men sat down and tucked into their breakfast, not talking a lot until the plates were clear and the second cup of coffee had been poured.
“So Buell decided he weren’t gonna do it.”
“Naw. He was up two or three times last night. Some nights he doesn’t sleep two hours.”
“That’s what Walks Fast says. Do you believe that old man can see yer dreams?”
“I’m not sure what I believe. I’ve read some about it, and there’s some stuff in the Bible too. I know when I was lost in the snowstorm, I wound up right out in front of here and Walks Fast was waiting for me. I was dead where I stood. That was strange.”
“D’ya mind talkin’ about Buell a little?”
“No. Matter of fact, I’ve wanted to ask you a couple questions and never had the chance.”
“Walks Fast says he’s watched Buell in his dreams and thinks maybe Buell ain’t quite right.”
“Buell has . . . he’s been a . . . I’ve never completely understood Buell. We’ve been best friends since we started school. And I’ve seen him do stuff that I know he don’t remember doing. When I’ve asked him about it, he seems confused, and then he either gets mad at me or simply won’t talk about it.”
“What happened in Amos’s barn?”
“That was awful. The look on his face when he was shooting that Indian was . . . I don’t know. Inhuman isn’t the right word, but that’s close.”
“But it wasn’t Buell?”
“No. Buell isn’t the most friendly guy you can meet, but he’s really quite mellow, ya know. Quiet. There in the barn he was frenzied, like—” Simon shook his head.
“Like an animal?”
“Worse. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Walks Fast says it’s a demon, a bad spirit, he calls it.”
“And I don’t want to think that of him, he’s never . . . I mean I’ve never felt—” Simon lowered his gaze to the table.
“But ya have, haven’t ya? Felt scared of him.”
“Yeah,” Simon said, his voice hushed. “After the barn. He looked at me like I’ve never seen him do. It only lasted for a moment, but I damn near peed my pants.”
“I’ve been movin’ ’round fer well over fifty years, and I’ve seen one other feller like him. Lived alone, cuz nobody could stand to be around him. Most of the time he was fine, but once in a while he’d change ta somethin’ else completely. Went out one night and kilt his horse with an ax. Couldn’t ’member a thing, but he was covered with blood, so weren’t no doubt it was him that done it. Buell ever done somethin’ like that?”
Simon shook his head. “I’ve tried to remember. Nothing as strange as that, but little things. I was gettin’ the tar beat out of me one day, and he just watched. I thought I was gonna get killed.”
“Well, obv’ously ya didn’t. What happened?”
“He finally kicked the boy on top of me and knocked him off. I don’t remember him doin’ it, but he told me later that’s what he did. When I asked him why he waited so long to help, his answer didn’t make any sense at all.”
Tay grunted and took a sip of coffee. “So sometimes he does change?”
“I guess so.”
“Ain’t no guessin’, Simon. It’s jist hard fer ya to admit it, him bein’ yer friend.”
“You’re probably right.” Simon took a deep breath. “Did your friend get better?”
“He weren’t my friend. I jist knowed ’im. One day he up and left. His cabin was straight, bed made up, clothes all there, even his rifle. But he was gone. Never did hear what happened to ’im.”
“Buell isn’t like that. Most of the time . . . I mean it’s only rarely that he seems to drift off like that.” Simon paused for a moment. “The only time he looks a little crazy is when he gets threatened.”
“Like in the barn?”
“Yeah, and once when we were in a saloon back home.”
“I like Buell, Simon, don’t git me wrong. I think he’s as good a friend as you could have. But I want ya to think about something. Don’t you ever threaten him.”
“I’d never do that.”
Tay held up a hand. “Ya ain’t understandin’ my meanin’. Don’t cross him on somethin’ he thinks is important.”
“Do you think he might . . . he wouldn’t shoot me. Would he?”
“Buell might not. But that devil in ’im? That’s a mule ya ain’t rode yet.”
Simon stared at his long-cold cup of coffee. His thoughts went back to Nebraska and all the good times he and Buell had spent together. The sense of loss that started to well up in his chest made his heartbeat feel unsteady.
“Ain’t exactly what ya came fer t’day, is it?”
“No, sir.”
“Sometimes yer love fer someone will blind ya to truths thet ya have to know. I’m glad we had this talk, Simon.”
“Me too.” Simon sighed deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment. “Think we could put my gold-huntin’ lesson off till another day?”
“Sure thing. Ya come back when ya want. I ain’t goin’ no’ers.”
The trip back to McCaffrey’s was over the same ground, but Simon didn’t see the beauty of the changing trees or the grace of the high wispy clouds in the milky blue of the autumn sky.
Zahn had joined Simon and Amos for breakfast, and Lori had just cleared the table.
“I’ve got a problem that I need some help with, Amos,” Zahn said.
“Shoot.”
“I have a chance to make some real good money, but I have to leave here to do it.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Amos frowned. “You mean, you’d have to leave Fort Laramie? You and Lori?”
“That’s the problem. I would, but I can’t take Lori.”
“What kind of a job is it?” Simon asked.
“Makin’ railroad ties.”
“Oh, you talked to those railroad people who were here two weeks ago.”
“Yep. They need more ties than they can get their hands on. They’re branching off the main line faster than the supply will keep up.”
“Can’t ya find work here?” Amos asked.
“I can, but I need something that will put my team to work as well. These folks are eager to hire me and the team. I can make twenty dollars a day in a tie hacker camp.”
“And you’re worried about Lori? I can see your concern, but you needn’t have any,” Simon said. “We couldn’t be happier with her, right Amos?”
“That’s for sure. Matter of fact, I’m glad ya ain’t takin’ her off. Now, how’s that fer selfish?”
Zahn gave him a wan smile.
“She’d be safe here, Zahn. I guarantee it,” Simon said. “Everybody knows her, and she’s around people she can trust. It’s not like she was living in a cabin somewhere.”
Laramie Page 21
