GOLD RUSH DREAM

by Billie Sue Mosiman

  That night she and Travis slept on a pallet on the floor before the Calhoun’s fireplace. They woke to the smell of biscuits baking and coffee brewing. Rose wished they could stay here forever. California seemed a lifetime away—too far to ever reach. She wished she had a home again with a fireplace and a cook stove. She wished she had an outhouse and a vegetable garden and a stream running out front. She would be so happy if she only had a place to call her own and Travis at her side. She would welcome their children then, loving each and every one, no matter how many she delivered.

  By the time the sun had just risen, they were on their way, pointed in the direction of Tucson. They had a few days supply of jerky and some flour Mrs. Calhoun was happy to give them. The children all stood by the split rail fence watching them leave, waving and calling goodbye. It must have been a novelty for them to see strangers.

  “What a good family.” Rose kept glancing back in regret at leaving the comfort of a home.

  “Good folks,” Travis said. “It sure helped to get a decent meal for a change.”

  “How far is it to Tucson?”

  “About a hundred miles, they said.”

  Rose sighed to herself. A hundred miles seemed as much as a hundred thousand. Riding steady it would take them three or four days hard traveling.

  “At least I had a bath,” she said, thinking aloud.

  “Felt good, didn’t it?” Travis had bathed after her, using the same cauldron of water, though by that time it was lukewarm instead of hot. “Maybe it got rid of some of those fleas.”

  Just the mention of the little pests caused Rose to scratch at herself. She had never had bugs on her body when she lived at home with her parents. Travis told her it was just one of the many aggravations that went along with living in the wild. Fleas lived in the sand, he said. They also jumped from the game he brought back to camp for their suppers.

  “They’ll be on this planet when all of us are long gone,” he said. “Fleas and flies have always owned this world.”

  Straightening in the saddle, Rose was determined to ignore the crawling beasts while they supped on her blood. She had come through two Indian raids and she had survived the travels across most of the continent. She wouldn’t be driven mad by a few fleabites.

  A darker worry clouded her thoughts. Suddenly she blurted, “Travis, you don’t think I’m going to have a baby, do you?”

  Travis reined in his horse and turned in his saddle to stare at her, his mouth open. “A baby? Where in tarnation did you get that from?”

  “Well…we’re together like man and wife now, you know. And look at Mrs. Calhoun, she has five children and I bet she’d not that many years older than me.”

  Travis scowled. “I don’t think…”

  “Mrs. Calhoun said I ought not get that way, this being such a long trip ahead of us and all.”

  “Did she now?” Travis smiled a little. “Well, it’s not something we can do anything about now so get it out of your mind.”

  “But Travis, we’re not even really married yet.”

  Now she felt like a harpy, pushing her man to make a firm commitment to her. But what else could she do? If he ever left her and she happened to be pregnant, why she might as well jump off the nearest cliff. She’d have no life at all to look forward to.

  “We’ll get married soon as we get to California,” he said. He pulled his horse up close to her. He reached out and touched her face. “Rose, I won’t leave you someplace to fend on your own, you know that, don’t you? I wouldn’t leave a baby of mine, either. I’ll always be with you. You have to believe me.”

  Rose melted beneath his touch and the look of love reflected in his eyes. “I believe you,” she whispered. When he turned his horse and strode toward Tucson, she followed, completely happy now and unworried. It wasn’t even her time of month yet so there was no real reason for her to bring up the subject, but she was glad that she had. Travis loved her just as much as she loved him, she could tell. If she got with child, he’d stay at her side, he’d be a father to her children, and he would never leave her.

  All they had to do was get to Tucson and then to California. It couldn’t be that far. Their journey wouldn’t last forever.

  #

  Case Jonesboro turned from his stool at the bar and saw a bearded young man covered with dust approaching across the dim bar room.

  “Case? Remember me? Travis Caldwell. From Texas.”

  It took a moment, but the name Caldwell rung a loud bell in Case’s memory. John Caldwell had been his trapping partner years ago. This must be his son, the boy who tagged along when they laid the traps for beaver.

  “Well, look how you’ve grown up!” Case clasped him on the back and indicated the stool next to him. “Want a drink of whiskey? How’s your dad?”

  “Dad died not long after you left.”

  “Oh no. “ Case’s weathered face folded in upon itself like a wad of crumpled paper. “What happened to him, Travis?”

  “Got a fever and a cough, never did get well. Probably was the consumption.”

  “Who took care of you?”

  Travis grabbed the shot glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He grimaced at the fire. “Nobody. I took care of myself.”

  “But you were just a boy, a kid. Must not have been…”

  “Thirteen. That’s right. But you and dad taught me well. I found a way to keep trapping.”

  “My god, that’s a hard thing. I never would have left had I thought John would pass and leave you on your own.”

  Travis shrugged and asked for another whiskey. It made him feel too bad to talk about his father. “Listen, I’ve got a wife now, she’s waiting outside.”

  “Do you? What are you two doing in Tucson? I didn’t think you or your dad would ever leave Texas. John always liked it there.”

  “It’s a long story, Case, but we’re headed for the gold fields in California. My wife’s got relatives out there.”

  Case turned back to the bar. “I seen dozens of people from around here outfitting up to go look for gold. I’m not real sure it’s a smart thing. What’s smart are the trading posts doing the outfitting. They’re making a fortune selling supplies.”

  “Well, maybe it ain’t the smartest idea, but that’s what we’re doing anyway. We were with a wagon train, but it was ambushed and everyone was lost.”

  “Must have been the Apache. They’re devils. We’re gonna have to get the army out this way to deal with them.” He looked hard at Travis. “You’re not trying to make it on your own, are you?” Case was stunned.

  “I was hoping I could talk you into going with us.”

  Case swiveled his body back to the bar. He sat with his hands around his glass for a long time. He had to tell the boy the truth. “I’m afraid I haven’t been doing much since I left Texas.”

  “More reason to head out,” Travis said.

  “What I mean is, I’m not in shape no more. I got a job mucking the stables and I spend a lot of time in here, drinking and playing cards. I don’t think I’d be much good on the trail again.”

  “You were the best trapper and tracker in Texas,” Travis said.

  “Maybe I was. I ain’t no more. People get old, you know. You remember me from the time when you were a boy. You’re a grown man now.”

  “Could do you some good to get out of this town. It’s probably more dangerous to stay here than to hit the trail.” Travis had seen the rowdy crowd hanging around the saloons in town. They looked rough.

  Case considered it. It seemed he had fallen a long way since hitting Tucson. He’d sold all his traps and furs. Finally broke he had taken the only job he could find. He spent all his pay on whiskey, women, and cards. It was if his life was dribbling away day by empty day and he was dying in Tucson. The law wasn’t much good here and drunken patrons from the saloons had frequent shoot-outs.

  “I’ll be forty-three next month,” he said.

  “That’s not too ancient.”

  Case threw
back his shoulders and took in a big breath. He chuckled beneath his breath. “I guess I ain’t dead yet, even if I look like it.”

  “No, you’re not. You look good to me, Case. I could really use your help.”

  Case turned to him on the stool and clasped him on the shoulder. “You’re lying about how I look, but okay, you talked me into it. I could stand an adventure and what’s better than hunting for gold?”

  Travis smiled and stood from the bar. “Let’s get going. Rose is waiting for us.”

  Case threw down a coin for their drinks and followed Travis Caldwell from the bar. This morning he had wakened with a sense of despair. All during the day while cleaning out the horse stalls he had wanted nothing more than to get to the saloon for a drink. And now he felt like a bar of gold bullion--shining again, strong, everlasting. He was about to set out for parts unknown, just as he’d done years ago when he’d left Texas. He might not have many years left. At least he’d spend them doing something. Going somewhere.

  Being somebody.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Broken Bear camped outside the city near a cemetery on a hillside. He crept in close to watch the trapper and the Red Hair. This time he wouldn’t lose them. It had taken him days to pick up their trail and he was perplexed when it turned south. He reached the ranch after the couple had left. He took down a calf that had strayed. He waited until he was far from the ranch to build a fire and eat his fill. He threw the rest of the meat aside, frowning at the waste. He hadn’t time to dry or smoke it. He had to leave it behind for the coyotes and buzzards.

  In that way he was behaving like the white man. His people had never wasted the animals the Great Spirit provided them. They used the skin for shelter and clothing. They smoked the meat and ate every scrap. They boiled the bones for soups and fed the gristle to the dogs.

  Yet here he was stealing the life from a little calf for merely one meal. He prayed the Great Spirit would forgive him. It was not his fault anyway. It was the fault of the whites he followed. They had taken him from his home into this arid land where nothing grew and food was scarce. If anyone were punished for wasting the life of living beings, it would be the trapper.

  The city was a wild one, wilder even than San Antonio, Broken Bear decided. Men raced horses down the main street, having no regard for the safety of passersby. They shot off their weapons and got into drunken brawls in public. Low women showing off their bosoms in low-cut dresses swayed their hips as they strolled down the plank sidewalks. Traveling salesmen hawked their goods and their medical notions from the backs of wagons.

  Broken Bear saw the trapper go into a saloon, leaving the Red Hair outside to wait. If it weren’t for so many white men in the vicinity, he could have raced his horse past her and swung her into the saddle with him. But this wild town was brimming with people. He wouldn’t have gotten halfway down the street before someone would have shot him in the back.

  He saw Travis exit the saloon with a man in tow. The man looked like a ruined cowboy. His beard was long, drooping to his chest, and his shoulders were stooped. He was a big man, larger than Travis by half, but he was much older and moved slow as a wounded bison. He greeted the Red Hair, doffing his hat to her. The couple followed him down the street to the stables and waited until he returned with a giant gray stallion, a horse tall and wide enough to hold a big man.

  Broken Bear thought he was selling them the horse, but then he mounted it and the three of them headed straightaway out of town. He saw they had gotten supplies earlier and now satchels and bags hung from their horses.

  This meant they had talked the big man into going with them.

  Broken Bear trotted his horse across the graveyard and turned toward the west. He could see the threesome in the distance, the dust from their horses leaving a cloud behind. He would have to wait until they were far enough ahead that they couldn’t see him follow.

  Now there were two men guarding the Red Hair, and although the big man looked old and worn, that might be deceptive. Some old white men were stout even into their later years. And he might be a gunfighter, fast with a gun, for all Broken Bear knew.

  But at least he was not an entire wagon train filled with men, so there was nothing to worry over. Maybe tonight they would camp and be so tired he could sneak in and spirit away the woman right beneath their noses.

  Broken Bear laughed out loud and it sounded like the caw of a bird. He shut his lips tight. He glanced around furtively. He was probably losing his mind. The thought made his stomach clench. He already knew what he was doing was strange and beyond anything he had ever attempted. He had never known another brave to go after a white woman with such determination. Why did he want her so much? Why had he left his homeland and wound up in this desolate, dry place, hungry and alone?

  He could not answer these questions he put to himself. He probably had lost his mind. He could not possibly need the woman as much as he thought he did. Once he got her, look how far from his tribe they would be. Both of them would be stranded in a desert. Hungry. And alone.

  But he could not turn back. He had come this far and suffered so much. He had seen the woman naked and lusted for her. He had thought only of her for weeks. He would see this journey to its end. He would catch her separate from the men, take her away, and own her. They would return to his tribe and her red hair would be the envy of every squaw and every brave in their camp. She was a prize worth any deprivation.

  He was not out of his mind at all. His laugh was not the caw of a bird. His spirit was not broken and lying in a heap at his feet. He was Broken Bear—warrior, descended of chiefs, enemy of the white invaders, man on a mission. If a great brown bear could not defeat him, then nothing could. Red Hair’s magic would keep them both safe and take them home again. This he believed.

  #

  “I believe we’re south of the wagon trail, but we can catch up to it by tomorrow,” Case said. He kept a steady pace, but his horse was larger so his companions had to trot their nags faster to keep up with him. When he remembered that, he slowed a bit. “Thousands have come through Tucson heading for the gold fields. We should have no problem following their route.”

  The woman came up alongside him. She rode well for just a sprite of a girl. He saw with surprise that she wore long pants beneath her skirts. “You got people out in California, Travis told me. Your ma and pa left you alone back here?”

  He saw pain streak her face and leave it just as fast. “An Indian raiding party killed my folks. That’s when Travis found me. I’m going to my aunt and uncle.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about your folks, young lady. That’s a hard thing. You and Travis got something in common, how you were both left alone in the world while you’re just youngun’s.”

  “I’m almost eighteen.” She said it with more than a hint of annoyance. She looked about twelve to Case. “Sorry, ma’am, you just look young is all.”

  He smiled to himself. She was no more than a baby and didn’t even know it, thinking herself a grown-up lady. He realized Travis really did need him. Letting these kids travel alone in the wild was like sending out bear cubs to a stalking party of mountain lions. He was stupefied they’d made it all the way from Texas.

  By nightfall they had covered twelve miles. Were it not for the donkey that carried their supplies, Case knew they could have gotten farther. He never brought along an extra mule, horse, or donkey for supplies when he had been a trapper. The dumb animals just slowed him down. What’s more they were a real nuisance because they had to be fed and watered. Travis was a more careful man than his father had been. John and Case would go off on a lark with a wing and a prayer. They carried along nothing but their weapons and horses. Sure it got them into a pickle now and again, but they sure as hell had their adventures.

  Then, of course, Travis was responsible for the girl. A man traveling with a woman couldn’t always do as he pleased or take wild risks.

  He watched Travis and Rose while they set up camp. Each seemed to know exactly
what chore to do next until everything was done and ready—the fire set in a ring of stones, blazing away. Then the camp beds were laid out, the horses and donkey led to pasture and hobbled, supper on to cook.

  Case puttered around trying to help, but he only got in the way. Finally he sat down on his saddle by the fire and took a chaw of tobacco, his eyes following his companions’ coordinated and purposeful movements. Once he got a shivery feeling on the back of his neck and his gaze darted to a nearby weedy patch where a man-size cacti stood. At first he thought it was the shape and size of the cacti that spooked him. Maybe it threw a man shadow that alerted him. But as he stared at the patch at the foot of the cacti, he began to think it wasn’t that at all. There was something in the weeds, hiding there, a predator.

  He reached carefully for his rifle lying next to the saddle he sat upon and that’s when the weeds rustled. It was just as if an errant breeze blew threw them, but there was no wind. This was not right at all. This was as wrong as sunshine during a thunderstorm.

  Case stood immediately and moved swiftly away from the camp toward the weedy patch. He already had his rifle in hand, his finger on the trigger.

  When he reached the spot, however, he found nothing. He poked all through the weeds and found no more than sand and rock. It occurred to him if there had been track here, he’d already erased them by his frantic fumbling about.

  He swore and turned in a circle, peering out at the darkness. The moon had not risen yet and he couldn’t see farther than a few yards where it seemed the world ended in total blackness.

  Suddenly Travis was at his side, weapon in his hands, too. “What is it, Case? What’s out here?”

  Case shook his head in consternation. He frowned so hard he knew he must look like a mad bull. “I don’t know what it was. I got a feeling…”

  “You saw something?”