GOLD RUSH DREAM

by Billie Sue Mosiman

“No, just a feeling. And I come to find out what it was, but it had already gone. Hellfire, if I hadn’t rushed into these weeds here and mucked up all the track, I could have figured out what type of varmit was sneaking round.”

  Travis looked out at the desert, his head pointed one direction and then the next, like a bird dog on point. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Yeah, but you feel it, don’t you, boy? Same as I do.”

  “I guess I need to tell you something.” Travis lowered his gun. “We’ve had a camp follower ever since we left Texas.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Case knew how far away East Texas was. He couldn’t imagine someone trailing a person all that distance.

  “It’s an Indian, possibly Apache.”

  “What’s he up to?”

  “I’m not totally certain, but I think it has to do with Rose.”

  “That doggone Indian wants your woman?”

  “I think that’s it.”

  Case whistled low in his throat. This could be a varmint indeed, a redskin full of crazy notions.

  “I have to tell you, I never heard of an Indian sticking to a white man or woman like that.”

  Travis sighed. “Neither have I. It’s…it’s worrisome.”

  Case looked around again on the ground, hoping he’d been wrong and he hadn’t ruined the tracks, but all to no avail. His own big boot prints were everywhere, as he’d stomped up the place pretty well. “What bothers me is this smell.”

  “I smell it too.” Travis sniffed at the air, his nose wrinkling.

  “Yeah, but it ain’t an animal we’ve run into before in the Texas woods.”

  “I agree. It’s…I think it’s got blood on it.”

  Case put his finger up in the air. “That’s what it is. Blood. Old blood, not fresh. Nasty blood.”

  “The Indian’s wounded?” Travis asked as they wandered back to camp.

  “Maybe,” Case said. He wasn’t sure. The whole idea of a sneaky Indian in the dark perplexed him. But there was certainly the scent of blood, though there was no evidence of it around. It didn’t make good sense. It put the hackles up on the back of Case’s neck. He wondered if he’d sleep at all tonight.

  #

  “I ain’t slept more than two winks all night,” Case complained.

  Rose glanced at him, worried. Travis had told her why they’d rushed off from camp last night. It made her feel creepy. Some animal watching them from under cover so near where they camped. She did sleep, thank goodness, but only because she felt safe with Travis.

  Case, on the other hand, was a worn old man. He had creases in his face you could trot a pony through. His back was bent and he moved slowly. But at least his eyes were clear and he wasn’t a sot. Her father had warned her about sots. Back in Ireland half her own kinfolk were sots, her father had explained.

  “Not worth the effort to spit on ‘em,” he’d said with some anger. “Drink all day and into the night and fall into bed drunk. Can’t earn a living when you act like that. Can’t feed your family when you’re tipping a cup all day.”

  The only alcohol her father allowed in the house was some home brew made from the fermentation of peach peelings. Peach brandy, he called it, but it wasn’t much good for drinking. It made a wonderful astringent for wounds, though, and was a powerful agent when made into a hot toddy for bad coughs.

  Rose liked old man Case, but she had her doubts about his coming on the trip with them. She feared he’d trip and break a leg, get pneumonia on some cold, rainy night, or get himself snake-bit. Then they’d be delayed trying to fix him up again. Men his age ought to be married with grandchildren on their knees. She couldn’t believe Travis thought he’d be a bonus to them. Just because he’d trapped with Travis’s father didn’t mean he’d know how to get all the way to California.

  Yet, she soon discovered he was an eagle-eyed shot, and that was bonus enough. Around noon as the three of them were trailing up the easy slope of another mountain range, suddenly Case pulled his rifle from a leather holster on his saddle and whipped it around to his shoulder. He aimed and shot, his big gray horse still plodding forward and jolting Case on its back.

  A shot rang out and she and Travis halted their horses while they watched Case take off across the boulder-strewn mountainside.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “I think he just shot supper.” Travis was shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand over his brow.

  “Goodness. You mean he can shoot from a moving horse?”

  “He can shoot in his sleep.”

  Rose grinned at that, though of course she didn’t believe it. In minutes Case was back with a small antelope doe slung across the back of his horse. He’d already drained the blood from a wide slit in the animal’s throat. Otherwise the blood would have coagulated and ruined the meat.

  Case was smiling. He had two teeth missing in his right upper gum. “Good ‘un,” he said and began to trot his horse on up the mountain. “We’ll stop at the top of this rise and I’ll clean this thing.”

  That night they enjoyed a feast, the first since leaving Tucson. The meat was so succulent and crispy on the outside from being grilled over the campfire that Rose forgot her manners and hung over her knees eating like some cowhand. After supper she was so tired and full she could hardly clean up and get ready for bed.

  “That was wonderful,” Travis said to Case. “How’d you see it in that tumble of boulders?”

  Case shrugged. “I got eyes on the side of my head, I guess. I saw it moving. Or maybe I noted a shifting shadow. I don’t rightly know myself. I just saw it, that’s all.”

  By nightfall Rose realized she had been wrong in her assessment of Travis’s old friend. Case was quick and resourceful when he needed to be. He was a much better shot than Travis, or maybe any man she’d ever seen handle a gun. Now she felt doubly protected and that made her doubly happy. California and her family didn’t seem so far away now. With Case’s help, they’d be there in no time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Broken Bear caught the woman in a copse of poplar woods five days after the trio left Tucson. He had almost been detected and caught by the big man, the one called Case. Twice Broken Bear sneaked close to their camp and thought he was well hidden. And twice the big white man suddenly knew he was there, came to his feet and was moving toward him so fast it took everything Broken Bear could do to scamper away in time.

  The old one was the reason Broken Bear redoubled his efforts to pay attention and catch the woman alone. Before he had taken little naps in the day to let his prey get far enough ahead he wouldn’t be seen on their tail. But since leaving Tucson, he devised a new plan. He moved far to the right of the trio and followed an old Indian trail that paralleled the white man’s wagon path. He tried to match his horse’s trot to theirs and each night he would travel south and make sure they were in sight. He was always vigilant, always on the ready. He had to be. Case, the white man, was much too aware of his surroundings for Broken Bear to take any crazy chances.

  Red Hair went into the poplar woods in a lush, green valley that provided a clear running stream of water through its basin. Later Broken Bear found out she’d wandered alone into the poplars to relieve herself in private. Out on the plains she’d had to do it while the two men kept their backs turned. The woods were much preferable, he guessed, though he did not understand white women and how they went about their private functions. Indian women weren’t ashamed of these things and simply stood over the ditch and let a stream go.

  After Rose finished and almost had her bloomers up again, he stepped from behind the blind of four poplars that had grown together in a tight clump, affording a hiding place. He stepped out and was on her before she could even cry for help. Just one shout and the men would have come running. They couldn’t have been more than a few yards beyond the wood line.

  He had her in his arms and was wrapping a length of deer hide around her mouth, tying it tightly. He did the same to her hands, tying them
in front of her. He led her swiftly through the woods to his waiting horse and threw her over the back. He slipped onto the horse behind her so he could steady her with one hand.

  Then they were gone, flying like the wind. They were gone and away through the poplars and down through the valley west of her two white companions. Before long they rode fast into the waiting hills.

  At last, he had his woman. After all this time and patience and vigilance, he had his woman.

  #

  Rose knew the Indian seconds after he came from behind the trees. She was so startled to see him there—see anyone there---that she lost precious time before she found her voice. Her mouth was open and she had sucked in wind that tasted of metal. She meant to scream so loud she’d bring down the sky. Then he reached her. She tried to turn to ward him off, but he had her so fiercely in his grip, her mouth covered with his filthy hand, that she couldn’t even move, much less yell for help.

  He was the man from the raiding party. He was the Indian she’d shot at and missed from the window of their cabin. She’d never forget that proud, haughty face or the fury in those dark eyes.

  She realized immediately she was in more danger than if he had been a stranger. This man didn’t belong here. He was from a tribe in East Texas. He had followed them. Followed her. The purpose was unclear to her. Had she done something unforgivable simply by trying to protect herself? Was he full of revenge and seeking retaliation?

  She jostled around on the hard back of the horse, the bones of its spine pressing into her stomach. With her head hanging down along the horse’s flank, she saw the earth going by at an upside down angle. She wriggled to free herself of the bindings around her wrists, but the leather thongs only grew tighter. She wanted to cry, but was too furious.

  Where was Travis? Why hadn’t Case admitted this man tracked them? They had told her they were looking for an animal when they disappeared into the darkness beyond the campfire only to come back empty-handed. She had believed them. Now she understood they must have known all along this Indian trailed them. She should have been warned!

  She rode for hours while hanging over the horse, blood rushing to her face. Her heart beat so hard that she thought she might faint. She felt the Indian’s hand pressed down hard in the center of her back. She felt the heat of his crotch close to her waist. She didn’t know what to think or what to do. She feared this abduction was the end of her if she didn’t find a way to escape on her own. She wasn’t sure she could depend on Travis to find her. They had already ridden so far away.

  That night she was thrown to the ground off the horse and the gag withdrawn from her sore mouth. She tried to speak, but with her first utterance the Indian slammed her across the face hard enough to make her head rattle. She kept quiet after that, and she kept her gaze averted so as not to rile him. She knew he’d see the hate in her eyes and punish her for it.

  He hobbled her legs and tied a trailing line to a tree. He left and when he returned, he brought a squirrel. She wouldn’t eat, even when he shoved the meat into her mouth. He hadn’t made a fire and the squirrel was raw. Disgusted with her refusal, he slapped her again.

  She raised her head this time, caution thrown away, eyes blazing. “I will not eat,” she stated flatly. “I will not drink. I will die and that’s all I’ll do for you.”

  After two days with Broken Bear Rose she believed her mind opened a small door behind which she could hide. She peeked out now and then only to see the ravishment of her body and the gross mistreatment her captor heaped upon her. Quickly, she would shut the door again and retreat. Behind the door another world kept her safe. It was dark there, like in the onion cellar back home. It was dark and silent and sweet. Nothing could touch her in that place, not rape, fire, pain, or death. When the inevitable ending of her life approached she wouldn’t even notice so occupied was she with the safe darkness, the blessed silence, the empty center of her being.

  #

  Travis was so frantic that at first he misread the sign on the ground and Case had to correct him. Travis thought Rose had been taken south, but Case pointed out the tracks leading west. It’s like the nose on my face, Travis thought. How could I have made such a mistake? He realized if he didn’t control his emotions, he’d miss some important clue and might lose Rose forever. Just the thought made his stomach churn. His head felt like a church bell clanged inside it.

  “I don’t know what tribe he’s from, but there’s just one of ‘em,” Case said. He cocked his head as they rode hard through the poplar forest. He shouted, “Slow down, Travis, we’ll lose the track if you ride hard.”

  “I have to get her back,” Travis said, but he slowed his pace.

  “I know and we’ll get her, too, but not if you keep running off half-cocked.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

  “Never mind that now, let’s just keep a watch on these tracks. He’s on a war horse so it’s a strong one. He’s got to be the thing we smelled back in the desert. Remember the blood scent?”

  Travis grimaced. “I think it was him too. But if that was him, he’s gone wild. I never knew an Indian let himself get to smelling like that.”

  “Well, I ain’t either, but this is a bad one. I don’t expect he just come out of the blue yonder to snatch your girl. He’s someone been destined to do bad things.”

  “I should have scouted backwards, come up behind just to make sure and maybe to catch him out,” Travis said miserably. “This is all my fault.”

  “It’s that hellfire Indian’s fault. He ain’t rightly human.”

  The observation worried Travis all the more. They rode straight out all that night and into the next day before having to stop to let the horses rest. Travis couldn’t sleep or thought he couldn’t. He watched Case fall into a dead sleep minutes after he lay down. Travis thought his mind was too on edge to allow it, but soon he was opening his eyes and the sun was beginning to fall toward the west. He woke Case and they climbed back on their horses and were off again.

  It wasn’t as if the Indian was trying to cover his trail. He didn’t seem to think they’d come after him. It was as if the abductor thought the woman didn’t matter to anyone. Travis was surprised to find Rose was all that mattered in the whole world to him. Until her disappearance he hadn’t known just how much he loved her. With her gone it was as if his heart had been torn in half and he was bleeding inside. He was worried sick. Panic was a drunken carouser knocking around in his mind. He had saved Rose once before and he’d do it again, blame if he wouldn’t. Nothing this side of death would be able to stop him.

  #

  Broken Bear found the woman totally unacceptable. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to train her as a good slave, but she was making it almost impossible. He had taught her quick not to speak. But he was having great trouble in other areas of discipline. She would not eat or drink no matter how he tried to force her. Soon that would cause her to fall ill and eventually die. It meant all his suffering would have been for nothing.

  She was exceptionally good for sex, however, though she was unwilling and finally unresponsive. He loved to see her naked, her breasts like glowing globes in the firelight, her creamy white tummy, and the great red mound of her private hair. Compared to the native women he’d had, the Red Hair was like a white goddess.

  He didn’t try to hurt her until the second time he took her. She seemed to slip away. Her eyes grew glassy and he didn’t think she could see him. Her body grew lax and so compliant it was like wallowing on a bed of eagle down feathers. Then he tried ramming himself into her, pinning her arms to the ground roughly. Anything to wake her up, but nothing changed. He went back to his regular pace, finishing off with a thump as he fell onto her naked body.

  Simply unacceptable. Truly disappointing, he thought. But he believed that was only temporary. Once he got her somewhere in this strange land where they could stay and join a tribe, he’d turn her over to the squaws. They’d train her to be obedient for sure. They’d change her into
his willing slave. He knew now it was too far to return to his own people in Texas. He’d find another tribe willing to take them in. With a new tribe he’d have no history and no marks against him. He and the Red Hair would both begin brand new lives.

  He only paused on the journey for a while in the nights, just enough for him to sate himself inside her, to find something to eat, and to rest the horse. After just a couple of hours of uneasy sleep Broken Bear woke and got her on the horse again. Now he made her ride astride the horse in front of him, his arms around her body where he held the reins.

  He had no worry the white men would come after them. After all, the woman was a nuisance on the trail. She slowed them down. She required food and drink and care. Surely they were quietly relieved to be rid of her.

  Or else he was fooling himself. He might still be mad crazy. He hoped he understood how things stood. If the Great Spirit had deserted him, he could really be delusional, even about how the white men might react. That would put him in danger---not that he didn’t relish the thought anyway. Let them come, he thought with such fury that he reached out and slapped his horse on the neck. Let them come and try to take her back. Then they would see how pitiful the white man was up against one of the warrior people. They would see they never should have come into this land at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Because they traveled relentlessly well into the nights, Travis and Case caught up with the Indian and Rose on the fourth night. It was after the midnight hour and the moon was already slowly edging down the sky toward morning. Stars littered the canopy overhead like twinkling fireflies. The land had changed again to mountains and desert, but far ahead there were forests covering the high ranges. The trail had headed north into Colorado territory. Once they happened on their target, Travis could see as well as if it had been day. He could pick out rock, cacti, gully and ravine. He was the first to see the horse ahead. It stood where it was tied to a jutting spear of rock.