Forty Mile River

by J. R. Roberts

  “And on the strength of that, you’re going to Alaska?” Hector asked. “This must be some friend.”

  “Yes,” Clint said, “yes, he’s a good friend.”

  “Well, I wish you both luck,” Hector said. “Does he have a claim already?”

  “I assume so, but I really don’t know,” Clint said. “I won’t know until I get there.”

  “Wow,” Hector said, “you are a good friend.”

  They finished their beer and Clint bought them each another one.

  “And your boss?” Clint asked. “He has a claim?”

  “Oh, yes,” Hector said. “A large one. He has equipment in the hold of the ship.”

  “So he’s setting up a major mining concern.”

  “Oh, yes, major.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Calvin Parker.”

  “Hmm, Calvin? I don’t know that name.”

  “Well, maybe you will once he gets set up,” Hector said. “I think I’m going to turn in, Clint. It was real nice meeting you.”

  “Yeah, Hector, you, too.”

  “Maybe we’ll see each other in Skagway.”

  “I hope so,” Clint said. “I’d like to meet your boss.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to meet you, too.”

  As Hector left, Clint finished his beer and ordered another one.

  “You have any idea when we’ll get to Skagway?” he asked the bartender.

  “Can’t be too soon for me,” the man said. “I’m lookin’ to get off this boat.”

  “Yeah, I guess you spend a lot of time on here.”

  “Yeah, too much,” he said. “And I don’t wanna be here when all those people on deck decide to take over.”

  “You think that’s going to happen?”

  “Oh, yeah. Each time we make this trip, I’m waitin’ for them to get fed up. It’ll happen.”

  “So do you know?” Clint asked.

  “Know what?”

  “When we’ll be getting to Skagway?”

  The man thought a moment, then said, “Can’t be too soon for me.”

  “Right.”

  FOUR

  Clint was on deck with Frankie several days later when Skagway came into view. It was teeming with people, on its streets, on the docks, on the beaches. He didn’t know how all the people on the ship were going to fit. He was glad Ike Daly would be meeting him at the dock and that he wouldn’t have to stay in Skagway more than a few hours.

  The dock was foggy with the frosted breath of the passengers. The mountains beyond the town were covered with snow. There were chunks of ice floating in the water.

  “Is someone meeting you at the dock?” he asked Frankie.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I’ll stay with you until you find them.”

  One of the crewmen was waving to Clint, so he and Frankie made their way through the crush of bodies until they reached him.

  “The captain says you kin get off with the first wave, Mr. Adams.”

  “She comes with me,” Clint said.

  “No skin off my nose,” the crewman said. “And I can’t say as I blame ya. Go ahead.”

  Clint and Frankie disembarked with the others who’d had the good fortune to obtain cabins. Among them were Hector Tailor and his boss, Calvin Parker.

  “Mr. Tailor,” Clint said as they walked down the gangplank.

  “Mr. Adams,” Hector said. “This is my boss, Mr. Parker.”

  “Mr. Adams, glad to meet you,” Parker said.

  “This is Miss Francesca Morgan,” Clint said.

  “Miss Morgan,” Parker said politely. He then looked at Clint. “Hector tells me you won’t be in Skagway very long.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Long enough for me to buy you a drink, or a meal?” Parker asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “That will depend on my friend.”

  “Well, we’ll be staying at the Skagway Hotel,” Parker said. “If you’ve got the time, come by and we’ll eat together.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Parker. Thank you.”

  “And by all means, bring the lovely lady,” Parker said.

  When they reached the bottom of the gangplank, they were literally swept away in different directions.

  “Frankie!” a woman’s voice called out. “Frankie, over here!”

  They both looked in the direction of the voice and saw a small young woman waving her arms. They moved toward her. Clint noticed she was cleaner than most of the people around her.

  When they reached her, she smiled and asked, “Are you Frankie?” It became apparent to Clint that she had simply been calling Frankie’s name, hoping to be heard.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Lindy. Come with me, then,” the woman said. “We have to get you set up. It’s nickel night.” She looked at Clint. “Is this your man?”

  “No,” Frankie said, “just a friend I met on the ship.”

  “Well, say good-bye, then,” Lindy said. “We got to go.”

  Frankie looked at Clint, and he could see she was hoping he had not interpreted the conversation correctly.

  “Take care, Francesca,” he said.

  She kissed his cheek and said, “Good luck, Clint.”

  As Lindy drew her off into the crowd, Clint thought she was the one who was going to need luck. There was only one way to interpret “nickel night.”

  FIVE

  “Clint!”

  He turned and saw Ike Daly coming toward him. Unlike Lindy, he did not seem to be cleaner than the people around him. In fact, if anything, he was the dirtiest man on the docks.

  “Hey, Ike!”

  Daly charged him and grabbed him in a bear hug, which hurt. Ike Daly was six-feet-four, weight well over two hundred pounds. But something in the hug was lacking, and Daly looked to Clint to have dropped some weight.

  When he put him down, Clint asked, “You been sick?”

  “Ah, I been a bit poorly,” Daly said, “but that’s gonna change now that yer here. Jesus, I didn’t think you’d really come.”

  “I sent you a telegram and you’re here to meet me,” Clint said.

  “Oh, yeah, I know, but I still—aw, forget it. Come on, let’s get a drink.”

  “I thought we were leaving as soon as we got here,” Clint said.

  “We are, we are, but first we gotta talk about a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Come on, let’s get a—”

  “Like what, Ike? Money?”

  “Well…that’s one thing.”

  “You got unpaid bills?”

  “Don’t everybody got unpaid bills, Clint?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, you also don’t own nothin’,” Ike pointed out. “Except a horse. You bring your horse?”

  “No, I left him in Seattle.”

  “That’s probably a good thing. By the time we got where we’re goin’ on horseback, them animals would be dead. We’re goin’ by boat.”

  “I figured.”

  “But first…”

  “Yeah?”

  “We gotta buy some boats.”

  Clint stared at his friend and shook his head.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said.

  Clint was shivering and said, “I need to get someplace warm.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ike said, “I brung you this.” He handed Clint a fur-lined jacket.

  “Hey, thanks.” Clint slipped it on, and was immediately warmer.

  “Okay,” Ike said, “let’s go get a drink.”

  Calvin Parker and Hector Tailor watched as the stevedores unloaded their supplies from the hold of the ship, and loaded them onto wagons on the dock.

  “Do we have reliable men to deliver this stuff?” Parker asked Hector.

  “Yes, sir. They’ve made the trip before.”

  “And we’re going by boat?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Who will get there first?”

  “We should b
eat them there.”

  “Good,” Parker said. “I want to supervise the unloading of the supplies.”

  “Would you like to go to the hotel now?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Good,” Hector said. “This cold is freezing my toes.”

  “I’m going to the hotel,” Parker said, “but you’re not.”

  “Sir?”

  “You stay here until all the supplies are loaded and these wagons are on their way,” Parker said. “Then come to the hotel to have dinner with me. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” Parker said. “Do a good job, Hector, like you always do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if you see Adams, your new friend,” Parker said, “see if you can find out exactly where he’s going. And if it’s anywhere near where we’re going.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Parker started to walk away, then stopped. “Oh, yeah, and find me somebody good with a gun.”

  “Good with a gun…how?”

  “Good,” Parker said. “Fast, accurate, and—oh, yeah—it would help if he’s already killed a few men.”

  “So you want a gunman,” Hector said.

  “That’s what I want,” Parker said. “A gunman, a gunfighter, a killer, whatever you want to call it. Just get me one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And bring him to dinner.”

  “Tonight?” Hector said. “You want me to find him…tonight?”

  “That’s what I said, Hector,” Parker replied. “Tonight. Do you still understand me?”

  “I do, yes, sir.”

  “Okay, then,” Parker said. “See you both tonight for dinner.”

  Hector watched his boss walk away, then turned just as some of his boss’s equipment fell from the ship to the dock.

  SIX

  The saloon Ike took Clint to was as packed with people as the deck of the ship had been.

  “Get that table,” Ike said. “That one there! I’ll get the beer.”

  Miraculously, the table had opened up and Clint was able to grab it. It was a rough-hewn table for two, with two rickety chairs. Ike came over and fell into the other chair, set the two beers down without spilling a drop.

  “One thing about Alaska,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “The beer’s always cold.”

  Clint sipped it and found that an understatement. The beer was like ice.

  Ike drank half of it down and then grimaced as the cold moved into his head.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s good.”

  “Okay, Ike,” Clint said. “Talk.”

  “Look,” Ike said, “I’m just a little short of cash for the boats.”

  “The boats.”

  “And the men to man the poles.”

  “Poles?”

  “Poles,” Ike said. “It’s the only way to negotiate these rivers in a flat bottom boat.”

  “Jesus,” Clint said, “how long is this trip going to take?”

  “Not as long as if we tried to take everything by wagon, over the mountains.”

  “So we’ll get there at the same time our supplies do.”

  “Yes.”

  “How many men are we hiring?”

  “Four.”

  “Just for the ride?”

  “No, we can use them when we get there, too,” Ike said.

  “And do you already have men there working?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ike said. “Don’t worry. The gold is being pulled from the ground even as we sit here and drink.”

  “Ike—”

  “I swear, Clint,” Ike said. “We’re both gonna get rich.”

  “But first you need my money.”

  “Uh…yeah.”

  “How much?”

  Ike told him. “It’s really not that much,” he insisted. “I mean, considering what we’re gonna get—”

  “Relax, relax,” Clint said. “I’ve got it.”

  “The money?”

  Clint nodded.

  “I figured it was going to cost me as soon as I got here,” Clint said, “and I also figured we were going to spend lot of time not near a town or a bank.”

  “And who would try to rob the Gunsmith, right?” Ike asked. “You can carry as much money with you as you want.”

  “And if you keep your voice down,” Clint pointed out, “nobody else will start asking themselves that same question.”

  “I get it,” Ike said.

  “So okay, what’s next?”

  “We’ll meet with the men and pay them half their money,” Ike said. “They’ll get the other half when we get to our camp.”

  “And they’re okay with that?”

  “As long as they get half up front, yeah.”

  “So when do we leave? Tonight?”

  “In the morning.”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying the night,” Clint said. “Are there rooms?”

  “I have a room at the Skagway for both of us.”

  “To share?”

  “Don’t worry,” Ike said. “There’s two beds.”

  Clint sniffed his friend and said, “I wasn’t worried about the number of beds. Do they have bathtubs?”

  “I think they do. Why? You need a bath?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about me.”

  Hector Tailor had a specialty that made him the perfect assistant. He had contacts. You would think his contacts would make him the ideal boss, but he lacked the ambition—and courage—for that. Oh, he had enough courage to go into the darkest corners, but to be the man responsible for everything? No.

  “You want Bent Miller,” his contact, Willie Cotton, told him.

  “How do I find him?” Hector asked.

  “You don’t. I do. Where do you want him to meet you?”

  “The Skagway Hotel.”

  “You’ll have to pay him.”

  “I assumed that.”

  “No, I mean you’ll have to pay him just to listen,” Cotton said.

  “That’s okay,” Hector said, “but it has to be tonight. And we’ll feed him.”

  “I’ll let him know. He also has some…colleagues. Would you be needing them?”

  “If we do, we’ll talk to him about it.”

  “Fine,” Cotton said. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Hector handed him some money—more than the little man had asked for.

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

  “You do that.”

  When Ike let Clint into the room, Clint eyed the two rickety beds dubiously. They were hardly as big as the pallets found in most jail cells.

  “This was the best we could do,” Ike said.

  “It’s only going to be one night, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Clint dropped his carpetbag on the bed, surprised that it didn’t collapse beneath the weight.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to Ike, “now about that bath…”

  SEVEN

  After they each had a bath, Ike took Clint back onto the crowded streets of Skagway. They walked a few blocks to a small café.

  “It’s cheap, but it’s good,” Ike said as they stood out front.

  Clint could smell burnt meat, among other things, coming from inside.

  “I don’t usually go cheap on my food, Ike,” he said. “You been eating here the whole time?”

  “Only been here a week, but yeah, pretty much.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “well, do you know anyplace better than this, where they don’t burn the meat?”

  “Sure, there are a couple of places we could go.”

  “Well, pick one out,” Clint said. “Don’t worry about the money—not when it comes to food.”

  “Okay, then,” Ike said, “we might as well go to the best place in town.”

  “We might as well,” Clint agreed.

  Calvin Parker looked up from his steak, saw Hector Tailor enter the restaurant alone. He’d been given the name of this place
by his assistant, who had gotten it from his contact as a place to get a good steak. At least, in that respect, Hector had gotten something right.

  “Thought I told you to bring him with you tonight,” Parker said.

  “He’ll be here,” Hector said. “He’s supposed to meet us.”

  “Supposed to?”

  “He’ll meet us.”

  “He’d better,” Parker said, “or you’ll be on the next boat back to Seattle.” He waved over a waiter. “Bring my friend what he wants.”

  “I’ll have a steak,” Hector said, “well done.”

  “Well done,” Parker said, shaking his head. “Jesus, why don’t you tell them to burn it.”

  “I don’t like all that blood on my plate,” Hector said.

  “That’s your problem, Hector,” Parker said. “You’re too squeamish about blood. When is this fella going to turn up?”

  “Any minute.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Bent Miller.”

  “Bent?”

  Hector shrugged.

  “My contact says we’ll have to feed him and pay him, and that’s just to listen.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, we’ll see.”

  Hector looked around. Most of the diners seemed to be eating the same thing—steak dinners. That explained why the waiter appeared almost immediately with his. Seemed they had steaks cooking in the kitchen all the time.

  “You told him about this place?” Parker asked.

  “He knows,” Hector assured him as the waiter set his plate down in front of him.

  “Then eat your steak, Hector,” Parker said. “If this man Bent doesn’t show up, that’ll be the last meal you have on me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bent Miller stopped in front of the River Steakhouse. He’d eaten there once and had found it very good. He was looking forward to eating there again, especially with someone else paying the freight.

  “Come on,” Ed Stash said. “Let’s go eat.”

  “Yeah,” Billy Rohm said. “I always wanted to eat here.”

  “Hold it!” Bent Miller said.

  Both men froze.

  “I’m eatin’ here,” Bent said, “you ain’t.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” Bent said, “go and find someplace else to eat, and meet me here in a half an hour. By then I’ll know if we have a job.”

  “This ain’t fair!” Rohm complained.