Hard Gold

by Avi

  In fact, couple of nights later he got so restless he walked right out of the room we shared, and, so he told me later, sat on the porch all night staring at the moon.

  Next morning all he said to me was, “Hey, Early. Ever notice how much the moon looks like gold?”

  No doubt, Jesse had gold fever, and he had it bad. But what it would lead to, I had no idea.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hard Times, Strange Times

  THE PEOPLE in our part of the country were getting desperate about money. All kinds of unusual things were being gossiped about. The Robinson family, having big debts, up and disappeared one night. No one knew where they went. The bank in Wiota, the one Judge Fuslin owned, was broken into and robbed. Three hundred dollars stolen! Then there was Tobias Elliot, from the other side of town, who got so hopeless he took his own life. And we kept hearing about people—people who had stayed in Cass County their whole lives—who just packed up and headed west to that Pike’s Peak place, or to California or Oregon—places that promised ways to recover busted lives.

  Then we had our own strange thing happen.

  Judge Fuslin sent Pa a message telling him he must come see him at the bank, right away. Pa went. When he met with the judge, Fuslin announced that he was sure Jesse was the one had who had robbed his bank! Being county judge, he could have had Jesse arrested.

  “Do you have some proof?” Pa asked.

  “He was seen in town that night,” said Fuslin. “Near the bank.”

  “Don’t mean a thing,” Pa said and got up to go.

  “Hold on,” said Fuslin. “I’ll make a deal. You sell that farm to the railroad, and I’ll make sure no charges are placed against Jesse.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Look here, Daniel, I’ll be honest. If you sell to the railroad, I’ll get my share.”

  “More than three hundred, I’d guess,” said Pa.

  “Yes, sir. A lot more.”

  “In other words,” said Pa, “sell the farm, or Jesse gets arrested.”

  “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “Judge Fuslin,” said Pa, “that’s what I’d call blackmail.” He left, came home, and told us what was said.

  I was shocked by the charge against Jesse. Outright horrified.

  “He offer any proof that it was me?” asked Jesse.

  Pa repeated what the judge had said.

  That made Adam ask Jesse, “Were you there? Did you rob the bank?”

  But then Ma cried, “Adam! Don’t even say such a thing!”

  “Have anything to say for yourself?” Pa said to Jesse.

  Jesse shrugged, grinned, and said, “What am I supposed to do? Can’t just sit around waiting for that judge to arrest me, can I?”

  Ma said, “If you didn’t do it, you’re not going to be arrested. We’re not going to lose the farm.”

  Pa added, “No one is going anywhere. And we’re not going to talk about it anymore.”

  That was fine with me, especially since I noticed Jesse hadn’t answered Adam’s question.

  A few days later, it being Saturday afternoon, Adam allowed Jesse and me to go off on our own. We went out into our woods, at the southern end of the farm, where we had a place on some rocks that was good for sitting and talking. We hunted there, too. In fact, Jesse had his rifle, and we were waiting for the pigeons to rise when he drew out a piece of paper.

  “Hey, little brother, look here,” he said. “Fella in town had a brand-new guidebook about that Pike’s Peak gold. I copied a piece. Listen to this:

  “Gold exists throughout all this region. It can be found anywhere—on the plains, in the mountains, and by the streams. In fact, there is no end of the precious metal. Nature itself would seem to have turned into a most successful alchemist in converting the very sands of the streams to gold.

  There were all kinds of guidebooks to the gold diggings.

  Just a few of them had really good information.

  “Isn’t that something grand?” said Jesse. When he looked at me with his bright eyes, I could have sworn I saw bits of gold swimming in them.

  He stuffed the paper back in a pocket and picked up his rifle and aimed it. “I’m telling you, Early, I think I just might go see the elephant.”

  “Do what?”

  “It’s what folks say when they talk about going west: seeing the elephant.”

  “Are there elephants out there?”

  “Doubt it. It’s just what people say.”

  “Look here, Jesse,” I said, “maybe you and me should go off and go see that elephant for ourselves. Get away from everyone.”

  “I just might,” he said, lowering his gun. “I’m of age. But it wouldn’t be fair to the folks to take you, little brother. Anyway, what’ll Adam say?”

  I said, “Don’t care apple cores about Adam. Just don’t you go without me, Jesse Plockett. Anyway, didn’t Adam say it cost money to go?”

  Jesse thought for a moment. “About two hundred dollars.”

  “No way could we find that,” I said.

  “I might find a way.”

  I looked at him closely. “How?” I asked.

  The only answer Jesse gave was to take aim, shoot, and drop a pigeon at forty yards. I always wanted to shoot like that.

  “Wish that was old Fuslin,” said Jesse. Then he added, “I saw him in town.”

  “He say anything?”

  “Wanted to know if Daniel had thought about his offer. Said that time was running short.”

  “Before he places charges against you?”

  “Sounded like.”

  “Jesse,” I cried, “what you going to do?”

  “Got some ideas,” he said and shot another pigeon.

  I will confess there were a whole lot of questions I wanted to ask him. First off: where was he that night he told me he was looking at the moon? Second: why did someone say he was seen in town that same night? I just couldn’t get my words out. Kept putting them off for the morrow.

  Then, a few days later when I woke and went down to the kitchen, Ma, Pa, and Adam were just there doing nothing. So right off I knew something had happened.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Jesse,” said Adam.

  “What about him?”

  Pa handed me a piece of paper with Jesse’s scrawl.

  I’m going to the Kansas territory. Just Know I’ll be bringing back some gold.

  Jesse

  “He gone?” I cried. “Really?”

  Pa nodded. “Looking for gold.”

  “Fool’s gold,” added Adam.

  Ma said, “He was fretting so about Judge Fuslin’s charge that he thought he might as well go. Only took an extra shirt and his rifle.”

  “No money,” said Pa, “and winter coming.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?” I said.

  Ma shook her head and said, “I suspect he didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  I was so upset, I ran off to our secret place in the woods, hurt that Jesse would go without saying anything to me. But when I got there, I found another letter.

  Little Brother:

  I’m going to get some of that Pike’s Peak gold so as to pay off the mortgage and make everything right. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back soon rich as blazes. Don’let Adam bother you. We’ll have our own farm soon!

  Jesse

  I spent a whole lot of time reading and rereading that letter, thinking about Jesse and what he’d done. He said I wasn’t to worry about him, but I did. In fact, after I was finished brooding, I’d made up my mind: I had to go after him.

  I just didn’t know how.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Whole Lot of Time

  October 1858

  THREE WEEKS after Jesse left, we got a letter from him.

  Dear Sister, Uncle, Early, and Adam:

  Got to Council Bluffs. People all excited. Say getting Pike’s Peak gold is easy. Just there for pickinq up. Easy, Early, easy!

  Jesse


  Meanwhile, Judge Fuslin sent word saying that Jesse’s taking off proved he was guilty, so he was going to issue a warrant for his arrest. At the same time the judge again offered to drop charges if Pa sold him the farm.

  Pa repeated his No.

  Adam said, “Does Judge say he has any more proof that Jesse robbed the bank?”

  “Just what he said before.”

  “Then there isn’t any proof,” said Ma, who like me, always did side with Jesse.

  “I bet I know why Jesse went,” said Adam. “An Iowa warrant isn’t going to hold in the territories. Fuslin will have to send someone out there to drag him back.”

  I lost my temper. “You want him to be arrested, don’t you!” I cried.

  “You do something wrong, you pay for it,” said Adam.

  “He didn’t do it!” I shouted.

  “That’s enough!” said Pa. “Things are difficult enough around here without you two snapping.”

  I went out and chopped some wood.

  The next letter Jesse sent came two months later from a place called Fort Kearny. Somewhere out in the Nebraska Territory. This time all he wrote was:

  I’m gettinq close!

  Still, it proved he was on the move, still heading west.

  Then for three months there was nothing but silence from Jesse. Not a single, solitary word.

  “Might have died,” said Adam.

  I hated Adam for saying that. It made Ma cry, too. Pa told Adam to keep his thoughts to himself. All I could think about was how I was going to get out there and bring Jesse back.

  Things went on, though it was dull without Jesse being about. Then, in March of 1859, another letter finally came from him.

  Dear Brother Daniel, Sister Penelope, Adam, & Early:

  I got gold! Enough to pay our debt.

  But I am in danger from the blacklegs who would steal an honest man’s hard diggings. My life is truly threatened!

  Jesse

  Cherry Creek Kansas Territory

  January, 1859

  I was real excited that Jesse got gold, but knowing he was in trouble made me wild. “Pa,” I pleaded. “I have to go! Jesse needs me!”

  “It’s too dangerous,” was all Pa said.

  To which Adam added, “He should have listened to '’ me.

  Ma was upset, too, but she agreed. “Jesse will have to fend for himself. We need you on the farm, Early.”

  “If we don’t help Jesse,” I cried, “save his gold, clear his name, and pay our debts, this won’t be our farm for long.'’

  Adam said: “A king’s ransom can’t be paid by fool’s gold.”

  “You just don’t like him,” I cried. “Always jealous of him. He was smart to leave!”

  “Early,” said Pa, “you are not going.”

  “Will too!” I cried, and skulked away, frustrated that I was the only one sticking up for Jesse.

  But the truth was, even if I had had my parents’consent, I hardly knew how to get out to that Cherry Creek. There were those seven hundred miles to cross. Back then no trains were going west past the Missouri River. Far as I knew, a stagecoach had yet to commence running. To get there you had to walk, go by wagon, or ride an animal. I was stuck in Iowa.

  But then, I got lucky.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I Find a Way

  April 26, 1859

  WHENEVER I could, I went to town with Pa, hoping to find another letter from Jesse. None came. Even so, I made certain to listen close because lots of people were talking about different ways of going west.

  Mind, people talked a lot about going to Pike’s Peak. Actually, it was Cherry Creek where the gold reports came from—a place some eighty miles north of Pike’s Peak. I suppose there was something grand and powerful in a “peak,” more than just a “creek.”

  What I learned was that Adam had one thing right: unless you had your own rig, or hired on, it took some two hundred dollars to pay your way to the diggings! Only one I knew with that kind of money was Judge Fuslin.

  So there I was, packed as tight with worry as a wadded-up musket ball. Just as ready to explode with frustration, too.

  Then two things happened, one stupid, one lucky. The stupid one came first.

  Pa asked me to go to town with a pig he’d fixed to sell to the butcher. I hitched our mule to our wagon, got Senator Clay (the pig) loaded, and clattered the six miles to town. Dealt with the pig, then walked toward the post office, hoping for a Jesse letter. But who should come along? Judge Fuslin.

  Fuslin always dressed fine, with shiny black frock coat, vest, and neck cloth. His buffed top hat (black) made him seem tall. Liked his Cuban cigars, too. Mind, nothing wrong with any of it. But knowing the power he had over us, knowing the way he’d threatened Jesse, I held him low. He was my enemy.

  There was a big man walking with him, someone I didn’t know. So I didn’t pay much mind to him—not then.

  And when I spied Fuslin coming along, I admit, I walked right by him. Only, he hailed me.

  “Early!” he called. “Early Wittcomb!”

  Had to stop.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m sure your parents would agree,” he said, one hand gripping his jacket lapel like he was a politician giving a dull speech, “it’s only polite to greet your elders.”

  He had me there. As my ma was forever saying, Being rude means you’re taking a rough road when you can just as well take a smooth one. So I said, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. How do you do, sir?”

  He considered me for a moment. “Any word about Jesse?”

  Since he knew Jesse was gone, I took it he was really asking two things: where Jesse was, and whether Pa was talking about the deal he’d offered. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I wanted to push back. So I said, “Yes, sir, we just got word from the Pike’s Peak diggings. Guess what? Jesse’s got gold. Buckets of it. Enough to pay our debts and then some.” I suppose I grinned, too, as like to say, We’re going to keep the farm. And he’s got away from you.

  Fuslin paled. “Has he?” the judge said. “I’d hate to haul him back to face those theft charges.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “But I’m sure he’ll be staying out there.”

  “He can be reached,” Fuslin said.

  The man by his side looked at me fierce, as if to back up anything the banker said.

  “Yes, sir,” I muttered and went off. I didn’t think too much about it, because right after that meeting something lucky happened. I went on to the post office, where I didn’t find a letter but something almost as good. Nailed to the wall was a notice:

  PIKE’S PEAK!

  Who wants to go to Pike’s Peak without costing himself anything? As many as four young men, of good character, who can drive an ox team, will be accommodated by four gentlemen who will leave this vicinity on the 2nd of May. We can furnish you beds and board and have your washing and mending done: and you shall give us your help as we require to get our families and effects to Cherry Creek. We have four wagons.

  Come on, boys!

  Ebenezer T. Bunderly, esq.

  I felt like giving a hoot, a holler, and three hurrahs.

  There it was! A way to get to Pike’s Peak and Jesse on my own without it costing a cent.

  I skipped over to the postmaster and asked who this Mr. Bunderly fellow was and where I could find him.

  “Bunderly? He’s that new barber who just came to town. Set up behind Morton’s Stables.”

  I’d heard about barbers, but since my ma cut our hair and trimmed my father’s and Adam’s beards, I had never actually met one. Always seemed odd to pay someone to do what you could do yourself—or have your ma do for you.

  Anyway, I found the barber in a shack behind the stables off Main Street. The space, just a tiny room, poorly lit, contained a chair plus a small table on which lay scissors, shaving brush, mug, razors, a sharpening stone, and strop. There was also a washbasin and some hunks of gray soap.

  Mr. Bunderly—I guessed it was h
im—was sitting in the chair, legs up, reading a slim pamphlet, blue covered. Its title: The Emigrant’s Guide to the South Platte and Pike’s Peak Gold Mines.

  He was a tall weed of a man, all elbows and knees, with thin, reddish hair and beardless pink face. His hands, which held the pamphlet, were small, clean, and with no dirt under his nails, not looking as if they were used to much hard labor. You might say there was something pale and blurry about the man, almost watery.

  This picture reminds me of Mr. Bunderly’s barbershop in Wiota.

  “Yes, boy?” he inquired, peering at me with gray-blue eyes.

  “Are you Mr. Bunderly?”

  “At your service, sir. And I see you are in need of a haircut.”

  “No, sir, it’s about your notice at the post office. You’re wanting some boys to go with you to Pike’s Peak.”

  “I’m grateful for your inquiry, my boy, but the actual need is for young men.”

  “Yes, sir, only it did say, ‘Come on, boys.'”

  He put down his reading matter and considered me thoughtfully. “May I be so bold as to inquire as to your age?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “An unfortunate orphan, perhaps?”

  His saying that, and my knowing he’d just come to town so he most likely didn’t know me, led me to do an awful and fateful thing: I lied shamefully. I said, “Yes, sir, I’m an orphan.”

  “How do you manage to survive?”

  “Hire around.”

  “Do you have an abode to … sleep?”

  “Nothing much. About five miles out of town.”

  His soft eyes gazed at me. “Not by any chance running away, are you?” he asked.

  “Oh, no, sir!”

  “Yet you desire to make the passage west?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Why is that?

  “Get some of that Pike’s Peak gold.”

  “I will allow”—he nodded—”it’s what everyone says.”

  “Please, sir,” I asked, “are you going to look for gold, too?”

  “Like so many others, my boy, these days I am financially embarrassed. I had thought to put down roots here, but to remain is to insure absolute ruin. Accordingly, I have resolved to move on and try my fortune in the Pike’s Peak region. Though I’ve little interest, or skill, in obtaining gold, it is my firm conviction that men of great wealth will desire their beards to be trimmed. Therefore, I shall put forward sufficient enterprise by which to mend my broken fortunes. I do believe, young man, that without endeavor there can be no progress—material or spiritual.”