Badge of Honor

by Susan K. Marlow

  Jem looked up, as if seeing his horse for the first time. Immediately, his plans crashed. Close up, Copper looked taller than his fifteen hands. Strike might weigh only a little more than Jem, but Copper’s back was a long way up. Even if we somehow get him up there, how will we keep him from slipping off? He’s as weak and limp as a newborn calf.

  Annoyed with himself for not thinking clearly, Jem had no choice but to admit his cousin was right. Strike had a better chance of living if he stayed here, even if it meant another night out in the open. But I won’t leave him alone! Jem rose. “You’re right, Nathan.”

  Nathan gaped at Jem. “I am?”

  Jem nodded. “Strike’s too weak.” He brought Copper around and handed Nathan the reins. “You and Ellie have to go for help. There’s plenty of daylight left, so you should have no trouble getting home before dark. I’ll stay with Strike. I have matches, and there’s plenty of dead wood around. I’ll build a fire.” He reached down and gave Nugget a friendly rub. “I’ll keep Nugget here to scare off any night critters.”

  While he talked to Nathan, Ellie’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Jem sensed a clash coming on—a big one. He gave Nathan a boost up on Copper and pulled Ellie aside.

  “Jem—” she began.

  “Listen, Ellie,” Jem whispered in her ear. “You gotta help me. Look at that greenhorn cousin of ours, sitting up on Copper. He doesn’t know the way home, and he barely knows how to ride.”

  This was not completely true. Nathan could stay on a horse when he had a mind to. He didn’t like to fall off any more than Jem or Ellie did, so he’d applied himself to staying on Copper at all costs. Ellie had to go along with Nathan, but it would take all of Jem’s big brother sweet-talking to convince her to do it.

  Ellie glanced at Nathan and shrugged. “So?”

  “You gotta make sure Nathan gets back to town without getting lost. If he falls off, you know how Copper can get away quicker than a ground squirrel heading for his hole. Then Nathan’ll never make it back to town.” He put an arm around his sister and gave her a warm hug. “Will you do it? Keep Nathan from getting lost, I mean?”

  Ellie looked at the ground. “I want to help take care of Strike.”

  “I know,” Jem said. “You can help him best by not letting Nathan get lost.” Ellie didn’t answer, which was a good sign. Before she had a chance to really think it through, he led her to Copper and boosted her up behind Nathan. “Get going, you two.”

  Jem gave Copper a whack on his rump and sent them on their way.

  CHAPTER 14

  Decisions, Decisions

  Jem watched Ellie and Nathan urge Copper across the clearing. They soon disappeared over the ridge, and Jem was alone. Nugget, ears alert, whined and started after the horse.

  Jem called him back. “We’re staying here, Nugget. Might as well hunker down and accept it.” He knew it would take quite a while for Ellie and Nathan to make the return trip down the middle of Cripple Creek. Hopefully, Ellie would soon recognize landmarks so they could leave the creek and make better time. But going as fast as they could, they would not reach the ranch before dusk. What then?

  Would Pa gather help and set out after dark? Even with lanterns and torches, Cripple Creek’s treacherous bottom might prove deadly to one of the searchers. Surely, Pa would not take such a chance, not even to save Strike’s life.

  Jem shuddered. He was no sissy, but there was something eerie and unsettling about all this open country—especially at night. He looked up into the late afternoon sky and wracked his brain trying to remember if he’d seen the moon recently. Even a crescent moon would be a friendly face tonight.

  A soft moan and a rustling noise rescued Jem from his dismal thoughts. He pushed aside the coming night and focused on the needs of his friend. Uncapping the canteen, Jem lifted Strike’s head and offered him water. This time, he heard a steady gulping as most of the liquid slipped down Strike’s throat.

  “Thanks,” Strike whispered. His eyes were two slits, but he focused on Jem and cracked a tiny smile. “Glad … ya found … me.” It appeared to take all his strength to get those few words out.

  “Don’t talk,” Jem said, squeezing Strike’s hand. “I’m staying right here. Ellie and Nathan went for help. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Strike coughed feebly and wagged his head. “No. You get on … home. Gotta … tell ya …” He gave a quiet sigh and closed his eyes.

  Jem let go of Strike’s hand and allowed himself a smile. The old man had awakened twice now. It was a miracle what a difference a little water made. He capped the canteen and gave it a shake. “Not much left in here. And who knows where I’ll find more.”

  With the creek barely a trickle, it was unlikely Jem would find more water up here above Cripple Falls than down below. It was worth a try, however, but not before he’d gathered an armful or two of dry wood for tonight. He didn’t need a fire for heat—late spring nights around Goldtown stayed warm—but a cheerful blaze would keep him from feeling completely alone in the dark while Strike slept.

  Jem rose and looked down at his friend. He wished he could give him some relief from the sun burning down on his face. But it wouldn’t be long before the sun slipped behind the treetops. Strike would have all the shade he needed then.

  Jem set out for the edge of the clearing to look for dead branches and old pine needles. Dry needles would catch fire in no time. In these hills, no one worried that their wood might be too wet to burn well. Instead, the constant threat of fire kept folks careful to keep their campfires small and isolated.

  It took Jem no time at all to collect a pile of branches and needles for the night ahead. He emerged from the woods with his last load, whistling the song Nathan had bellowed earlier that day about pockets full of gold. I can’t get that tune out of my head.

  Suddenly, he stopped. It looked like Strike was sitting up. His heart flew to his throat in joy. Just as quickly, it fell to his toes. Fear made him drop his bundle and rush over to where he’d left Strike and Nugget.

  “Ellie!” he shouted, panting. “What happened? What’s wrong? Where’s Nathan?”

  Ellie stood up and faced her brother. “Nothing’s wrong. I did what you told me. I made sure Nathan got back to the creek without getting lost. He can—”

  “What were you thinking?” Jem took hold of Ellie’s shoulders and shook her. “You’re supposed to go get help! I don’t need you here. Do you know what Pa’s gonna do to me when he sees you’re not with Nathan?” His anger spent, he stepped back and let his arms fall to his sides. “Haven’t you got any sense at all?”

  Ellie stood her ground, but her lip quivered at her brother’s words. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I planned to, Jem. I really did. But everybody knows it’s easier for one person to ride bareback than two or three slipping around. We were working hard not to pull each other off. When we got to the creek, Nathan told me he could go faster on his own.”

  Jem’s eyebrows shot up. “He did?”

  Ellie nodded. “Took me by surprise. He got real bossy about it. Insisted he knew the way, once I got him back to the creek. Promised he’d go as fast as he could, but that”—Ellie huffed—“I was slowing him down.”

  Jem took a deep breath and got ready to yell some more. Pa would really, really be worried when he learned that Ellie was out in the hills all night. Then he let out his breath. It was too late. Nathan was long gone. Besides, his cousin was right. He could make better time alone. “Chalk one up for Nathan,” Jem said, cracking a smile. “Under all our cousin’s complaining ways, maybe he’s got some real ‘gold’ in him when it counts.”

  He didn’t want to admit it, but now that he’d simmered down he rather liked the idea of Ellie keeping him company tonight. I can’t let Ellie know that, he told himself, or she’ll never listen to me again.

  “I dropped a load of wood right beyond that boulder,” he growled, pointing. “Go fetch i
t. Then we can talk about finding some water to fill the canteen and how we’re gonna last all night with no supper.”

  “Betcha I can last longer than you,” Ellie said with a grin. Clearly, she saw right through her brother’s growly voice and knew she’d been forgiven for coming back.

  Jem couldn’t help it. Try as he might, he could not keep from laughing. “Get going!”

  The sun finally slid behind the tops of the pine trees, giving Strike, Ellie, and Jem relief from the late afternoon heat. But the shadows reminded Jem that night was coming, and they had little water, no food, and no shelter. “It’s just for one night,” he muttered, too low for Ellie to hear. “But it will be the longest night of my life. I bet I don’t sleep a wink.”

  Ellie had cleared a spot and then laid a fire of dried grass, pine needles, small sticks, and large branches. All it needed was the strike of Jem’s match. Around the fire pit, she had carefully placed a ring of stones, each one in its own special place.

  Jem chuckled. Ellie sure knew how to amuse herself. He lay spread out on his back, gazing into the sky. If Strike was not in such need, and if he and Ellie were not stranded up here, Jem would have thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet. Only a faint clanging from the stamp mill reached this far into the hills; not a breeze rustled the tree tops.

  He could not lie around much longer. Strike needed water. Now that Ellie was here, there was no excuse. She could stay with the old prospector while he checked the creek above Cripple Falls.

  “Jem!” Ellie suddenly gasped. “Listen!” She jumped up and peered toward the mountains. “Hear that?”

  Jem sat up and held his breath, listening. Breaking the afternoon silence came a sound he knew well. “It’s Canary.”

  Ellie pointed into the woods leading toward the falls. “He’s up there somewhere.”

  “I forgot all about him,” Jem said, shaking his head. Canary’s absence had crossed his mind earlier, but he’d been too busy worrying about Strike to pay attention to where the donkey might have wandered off to. Canary was not known for his loyalty.

  A new thought propelled Jem to his feet. He brushed himself off and said, “Canary’s packing Strike’s supplies—food, water, mining tools. If I can catch him, we’ll have plenty of water for Strike, and some supper too.”

  Ellie frowned. “I should go after him. He likes me best.”

  “He doesn’t like anybody best—not even Strike,” Jem said. “And I’m better at making him mind than you are.”

  Jem knew Ellie couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes Canary needed a sturdy stick across his hindquarters to make him move. Ellie’s whacks were more like love pats. Canary usually just looked at her and laid his ears back when she tried to get him to go.

  “I’ll give Strike the last of the water, then go after Canary,” Jem told her. “If I can’t find him, I’ll stop and see if there’s any water above the falls. Then I’ll come right back. You stay here and keep an eye on things.” He cocked an ear and heard another bray. “Canary doesn’t sound too far away. Wish he’d stuck around for once, instead of running off.”

  Ellie nodded her agreement and sat down next to Nugget. The dog lay sprawled out on his side, fast asleep. When Ellie touched him, his head snapped up and his tail thumped. “Nugget and I will take care of Strike while you’re gone,” she promised.

  “Good idea.” Jem smiled at her. “I won’t be long.” It’s about time you did something I told you, he thought. He knew better than to say it out loud—not if he wanted Ellie to keep minding him. Besides, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Aunt Rose had told him that more than once during the past few weeks.

  Jem gently lifted Strike’s head and offered him the last few swallows from the canteen. The prospector opened his eyes and latched onto Jem’s arm with a thin, clawlike hand. His lips moved, but no words came out. Instead, he slumped and lay still.

  “He’s sure upset about something,” Ellie remarked. “Every time you give him water, he tries to talk. It’s kind of creepy.”

  “He’s probably delirious from pain or fever or thirst,” Jem said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Soon as we get him to Doc Martin, he’ll be back to his old self.” He shouldered the canteen and took a few steps toward the trees. Nugget rose to all fours.

  “Stay here,” Jem commanded. “Stay with Ellie.”

  Nugget barked once and sat down.

  Amazing! Jem didn’t know what to make of it—Nathan acting unafraid and going for help alone; Ellie agreeing to stay with Strike; Nugget obeying instantly. Jem felt pretty good as he waved to Ellie and jogged across the small clearing and into the woods. Now, if only Pa would come over the rise right about now, this day would be perfect.

  Jem knew Nathan had not reached town yet. Pa would not be riding to the rescue any time soon. “It’s up to me. All I have to do is keep Strike alive for one more night and keep Ellie from getting too scared of the dark.” If he focused on what he had to do, maybe he would not be so frightened of the coming dark night himself.

  One thing at a time, Jem reminded himself. Right now he needed to find that stubborn donkey and fill the canteen. He paused. Not getting lost would be a good idea too. He dug into his pocket for his knife and slashed at a few branches.

  Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Canary’s braying grew louder and closer.

  Jem kept moving. He knew he was on the right track, but he had not expected to hike so far. Then he remembered that Canary’s “singing” could be heard a long way off. He kicked a piece of deadwood. “He could still be half a mile away.” Chasing an ornery burro through the foothills of the Sierras was the last thing Jem wanted to do. “A few more minutes, then I’ll settle for finding a puddle in Cripple Creek. Ellie will get worried if I stay away too long.”

  Canary’s braying came again. Since it came from the direction of the stream, Jem followed it. He quickened his pace, scurried up a gentle slope of pines, and suddenly came out at the top of Cripple Falls. The falls trickled over the twenty-foot drop, a mere dribble of their usual volume. That was plenty of water for Jem. He could creep out over the rocks and fill his canteen from the small pool just above the falls.

  But Jem made no move to go after the water. Instead, he stared at a rough, wooden trough resting in place just a little farther up the creek. “What in the world?” he whispered.

  A sudden desire to keep out of sight washed over Jem. He dropped to his knees behind some brush. Cautiously, he lifted his head above the bushes and studied the structure. It was a wooden trough—a flume, really—that stretched from the creek above Cripple Falls to out of sight beyond the trees on the other side of the creek.

  Jem did not have to crawl into the flume to know what was in it. Water—a lot of it. Streams of water gushed through the seams between the flume’s sections. Whoever had thrown together this flume had done so in a hurry. The builders did not seem to care how much water they wasted, so long as most of it reached its destination, wherever that was.

  Jem didn’t know where the flume ended, but he knew what it was for. A miner—or most likely more than one miner—was working a large gold claim nearby. As Jem’s gaze followed the wooden trough running downhill, away from the creek, the pieces of the dry Cripple Creek “puzzle” fell into place.

  “Why, those low-down skunks!” Jem clenched his fists. “They diverted the creek to wash their own gold.” He was furious at whoever was stealing water from Goldtown’s prospectors. Miners like Strike could barely make a living washing placer gold. Without water, it was impossible. Jem wanted to rush over and knock down a section of the flume. Instantly, the water would return to its rightful course and tumble over Cripple Falls again.

  “Cool your heels,” Jem ordered himself as he ducked behind cover. “That’s a sure way to let those ruffians know something’s up. Besides, I doubt bare hands would do much, even if the flume is a shoddy piece of work.” He chewed on his lip and thought, What to do? What to do?

  A loud hee-haw brought Jem’
s head up for another peek at the flume. He sucked in his breath at the sight of Canary just beyond the creek. He seemed to be standing next to the flume. Jem strained to get a better view. Canary was not just standing under the flume. He was tied to one of the supports, looking more miserable than any donkey Jem had ever seen. No one had bothered to relieve the poor beast of his pack. Jem doubted anyone had even fed or watered him.

  Canary laid his ears back and brayed mournfully, as if pleading to be set free. Ten minutes stretched by while Jem sat hunched behind the manzanita and elderberry bushes, thinking. It all made sense now. “Strike must have found the flume and tied Canary up to keep him from running off. But he got caught.” Someone had beaten up an old man and abandoned a helpless animal. It made Jem angry … and frightened. Somebody was stooping mighty low to keep their operation hidden.

  He listened to Canary’s braying and realized he would have to leave the donkey for now. As much as he wanted to free him—and take advantage of the supplies—he knew it would be foolish and risky. Canary was clear across the creek and out in the open. What if the miners were close by? It wouldn’t take long to discover the donkey was missing. What then?

  Yes, Jem decided, going back to camp was the only decision that made sense. “But water first.” Prickles raced up and down his spine. Even that was risky, but he needed the water. “Then I’ll hightail it back and wait for Pa. Ellie will have a fit if she finds out I left Canary, so I just won’t tell her.”

  Jem yanked the canteen off his shoulder and headed for the pool of water just above the falls. It was slippery going, but he carefully picked his way over the rocks and dipped his canteen in the creek. It gurgled as it filled, and soon Jem was taking a long, satisfying drink. He capped the canteen, rose, then turned for one final glimpse of Canary.

  And found himself looking right into the business end of a Colt .44 revolver.