Murphy, Gold Rush Dog

by Alison Hart

  Jumping off the rock, I barked at a gull that flew too close to our picnic basket.

  “Perhaps you are right. I won’t mention the mosquitoes or the five murders on Front Street.” She picked up the letter again.

  Even though it is 93 degrees during the day, there are still icebergs on the Bering Sea because it freezes at night when the sun goes down.

  Mama makes $1.25 per hour typing and filing claims at Fox & Gibson Surveyors. In the evening, miners dictate their letters to her. They are all homesick. I take the letters to the post office the next day and then I deliver mail for Mr. O’Malley, the postal clerk.

  “I won’t mention that Mama works day and night and falls into bed exhausted,” she told me. “And that I earn extra money delivering mail to saloons and dance halls. Even Grandpapa might object.”

  A second seagull swooped low, aiming for the open tin of beef. I snapped at its gray tail feathers, and it flew off with a raucous squawk.

  “Thank you for saving our breakfast, Murphy.” Sally threw me the last chunk of beef and I gulped it quickly.

  “Now settle down and let me finish reading you this letter,” she scolded. “You are mentioned again, so be patient.”

  I have met a friend named See-ya-yuk. He is Inupiaq. One day we were fishing in the same spot. He smiled a shy hello. Since then he has showed me how to catch mackerel and codfish. You would be jealous of all the fish we catch, Grandpapa.

  Please send apples from our trees back home and chocolate and jam with your next package. Murphy loves sweets.

  Love and kisses,

  Sally

  “See? I told you that you were mentioned again. I should have said ‘send a ham hock since Murphy eats more than a horse.’ Mama admits you are worth it though, for her peace of mind.” Sally ruffled my ears. “Speaking of Mama, we’d best get back before she leaves.” She packed up the basket and we made our way past other miners, rotten timber, abandoned equipment, and piles of sand.

  When we reached the tent, Mama bustled out, her brow knit. She wore her shawl and brimmed day hat. “There you are, Sally. Don’t forget to come by the assayer’s office. Mr. Fox has papers for you to file.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And we need wood for the fire and we are out of tinned beef. Oh, the chores are never-ending.” Her frown deepened when she saw the picnic basket. “Have you been feeding Murphy from our meager food supplies?”

  “Ummm…” Sally looked at her feet, and I snuffled a rock on the ground.

  Mama sighed. “No wonder we are out of beef. Now hurry and clean up. I will see you later at the office.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sally watched her mother weave around the tents until she disappeared. “I worry about her, Murphy. Nome was to be a grand adventure, except Mama has grown too tired to enjoy it.”

  After securing the tent, Sally and I headed toward Front Street, walking along the shoreline. She spied a rusty miner’s pan half buried in the sand.

  “This is just what we’ll need when we have our own claim.” Pulling it out, she brushed it off. “I’ll add it to our stash of supplies. Soon we will be able to strike out on our own.”

  She chattered away as we continued walking. “I have saved almost enough money to file a claim. Grandpapa says Alaska’s winter weather shows its ugly head in September. It’s already the first of August, so we don’t have much time. Oh, look, there’s Mr. Smithson.” She waved at a man who stood knee-deep in water, shoveling sand into a sluice box. “Perhaps we can get a panning lesson from him.”

  Sally set the pan on the shore and waded into the water, the surf lapping the ankles of her gum boots. “Hello, Mr. Smithson.” I followed her, the frigid water tickling my belly.

  Sally inspected the bottom of the slanted wooden chute for sparkly flakes of gold. I stood next to Mr. Smithson. Sometimes he shoveled up fish and I got to eat them.

  “Any luck today?” she asked him.

  “Naw.” Mr. Smithson wiped his forehead, which glistened under his droopy hat. The sun was heating up. “Gold’s about gone from the beach sand. Too many fools out here prospecting. We need another meteor shower.”

  Sally giggled. “The gold does not come from outer space, Mr. Smithson.”

  He crooked one brow. “So you believe crazy Leibowitz’s theory that it rose from the earth in a volcano?”

  “No. I believe it washes down from the rivers and creeks. That’s what Mr. Fox says, so I’m staking my claim on the Snake River.”

  “That’s loonier than a meteor shower.” Mr. Smithson snorted. “If it was true, then the men who have claims inland would be rich.”

  Sally stared wistfully toward the tundra. “Some of them are getting rich. Especially those who are mining Anvil and Dexter Creeks. And if Mama and I are to stay in Alaska, we need to find enough gold to buy a cabin.”

  Mr. Smithson continued shoveling. “The only ones getting rich are the companies that are jumping claims that already yield gold, like McKenzie and Carlick. Their company is mining most of the land on the Snake, so you’ll have a tough time getting a spot.”

  I swung my head up at the mention of Carlick’s name. Sally slid a protective arm around my neck. “I thought their company only held claims along the creeks.”

  “Not anymore. Those two have Judge Noyes in their pockets. They’ve been staking claims along the Snake, too, only the claims already belong to other men. Carlick and McKenzie pay off Judge Noyes, who stonewalls the real owners while he and his gang set up mining operations.”

  “That doesn’t sound right!” Sally’s voice rose.

  “It ain’t. Those two remind me of Mr. George and his son, who owned me, my family, and the land where we picked cotton. Men like them think they rule the world and they can do whatever they want. And McKenzie and Carlick, why, they practically rule Nome.”

  “Like kings?” Sally asked.

  “Like masters.” He dropped his shovel and poured buckets of water onto the chute. The water carried the sand back down to the sea and any gold that was heavier than the sand fell to the bottom of the chute and got trapped in the riffles.

  “Can no one stop them?” Sally asked as she again leaned over the chute.

  Mr. Smithson shrugged. “So far, no.”

  “Oh!” Sally held up a nugget the size of a nail head. “Mr. Smithson, I believe it will buy you food for a week.”

  “Young lady, you are a godsend. Perhaps there was a meteor shower last night.” He winked. “Here’s a little ‘flour’ for your help,” he added, giving Sally a pinch of gold dust from the sluice.

  “Thank you, Mr. Smithson.” Carefully she sprinkled it into a silver vial that hung from a leather strap around her neck. “Tell me, if you were mining on the Snake, what equipment would you take?”

  “A good pan like this one you set on the sand.” Mr. Smithson said. He picked it up, scooped sand and water into it, and then rocked it back and forth. “See how it separates out the gold?”

  “Let me try.”

  I hunted for fish in the surf while Sally concentrated on her pan. Gold held no interest for me.

  Finally she stood. “I must get to the post office,” she told Mr. Smithson. “Thank you for showing me how to pan.”

  “Come back after you finish your mail delivering, Miss Sally. You and your dog are my good luck charms.”

  “We’ll return,” Sally said. “I need another lesson on finding gold. But now we need to hurry before Mr. O’Malley has a fit.”

  We slogged up the muddy path toward Front Street. “I do believe we need to find out more about Carlick,” she told me. “If he is as disagreeable as Mr. Smithson says, no wonder you ran away from him.”

  We had not encountered Carlick as we roamed the streets of Nome over the past weeks. Today was the first time I had heard his name in a long while. This was fine with me. Even if I did see him again, I didn’t know if he would recognize me. I was now lean and fit with a glossy coat. As I trotted down the walkway by Sal
ly’s side, I had a spring in my step and a gleam in my eye.

  Still, sometimes I thought I saw him. At times I thought I heard his voice. And when I did, I remembered the sting of his whip and I cowered.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Miss Sally’s Dog

  August 3, 1900

  Accompanying Sally on her journeys around Nome was my favorite part of the day. Since she picked up and delivered mail, she knew everyone. She collected pennies as payment and I was petted and fed scraps. No longer did the shopkeepers see me as a stray. Now I was Miss Sally’s dog.

  A long line of people stood in front of the post office, waiting to post or pick up mail. Sally skirted around the men and ducked into the small building. She handed Mr. O’Malley the letters Mama had typed last night. “Each is sealed, addressed, and has a two-cent stamp, sir,” she told him.

  “Thank you, Miss Sally. I have another stack to fill your bag. Remind everyone that the steamship Lucky Lady will be arriving in about four days and then departing the next day for Seattle. The mail to the mainland will go with it.”

  “I will, sir.” Sally grabbed the bulging satchel and we walked to the Dexter Hotel.

  “Good day, Mr. Wyatt Earp.” Sally shook hands with a slightly rotund, very tall man who stood outside.

  “Good day, Miss Sally.” He patted my head. “And good day to your dog. Any mail for me?”

  She handed him three envelopes and he gave her several coins. “A serious question, Mr. Earp. If you were mining along the Snake River, what equipment would you take?”

  “A warm quilt and a deck of faro cards,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

  “I’ll remember the quilt. Thank you, sir.” She bid him farewell, and we left the Dexter Hotel.

  A ragtag group of boys strolling down the muddy street stopped to toss stones at me. I yelped and darted under a wagon bed. “Look at the big coward run!” one shouted. “What a scaredy-cat!”

  Sally glared at him. “You’re the scaredy-cat, Johnny Tucker! Otherwise you wouldn’t hang back and throw stones. You’d come right over so I could sock you in the nose.”

  Putting his fists on his hips, Johnny shot Sally a smug look. “I jest might.”

  Just then Mr. Earp stepped out onto the street to survey the situation, and the boys left, grumbling. I crawled from under the wagon, tail tucked. I wished I had barked and frightened them off myself, but once again I had run.

  “Ignore their meanness, Murphy,” Mr. Earp said as he gave me a pat. “I have learned that a showdown is a last resort.”

  Sally and I continued on our way to the Horseshoe Saloon. “Good morning, Miss Althea,” Sally said as we entered the main room, which was dark even though it was midday. A woman with rouged cheeks sat at a round wooden table, eating breakfast. She—and her bacon—smelled delicious.

  “Good morning, Sally, and good morning to you, you handsome boy.” Cupping my head, she kissed me over and over until I squirmed.

  Sally handed her several letters. Miss Althea gave her some coins and fed me a strip of bacon.

  “Miss Althea, if you were mining on the Snake, what equipment would you take?” Sally asked.

  Miss Althea chewed a bite of egg. The she dabbed her lips with a linen napkin and said, “I would take mosquito netting and a bottle of whiskey.”

  “I will surely add the netting to my list,” Sally said. Waving goodbye, she led me back into the daylight.

  “The money is adding up, Murphy.” Sally patted her pocket. “Soon we will be ready to file a claim.”

  Our next stop was a house on the edge of town. The Hughes brothers sat in front of their cabin, smoking their pipes and cleaning their rifles. The two brothers looked just alike, with shaggy beards and long hair, which they said kept away the mosquitoes. The only difference between them was that one brother spoke; the other just grunted. “Good day, Miss Sally,” the talkative brother said.

  “Hello, Mr. Hughes,” Sally said. “I have some mail for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Sally.” He took the stack. “My brother and I won’t need you to deliver our mail much longer. We’ve decided to leave Nome.”

  “But why, sir?” Sally asked.

  “Winter in Nome is close to purgatory. Do you know anyone who might be interested in purchasing our cabin?”

  Sally’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes! Mama and I need a new abode before winter comes. How much will your fine cabin cost?”

  “To you and your lovely mother I would sell it for twenty dollars. We’ll be leaving in September.”

  “I will tell Mama,” she said. “Thank you, sirs.” Sally waved goodbye, and we left.

  “Mama will be so excited!” Sally exclaimed as we trotted back to town. I could feel her joy in the drum of her boots on the wooden walkway.

  A cat darted from a doorway. I gave chase, but when it turned and hissed, I stopped in my tracks and it skittered off. I told myself the cats were necessary to catch the rats—and that I was not afraid.

  When we reached Fox & Gibson, Sally burst through the door. “Mama! Wait until you hear my news!”

  Mama was hunched over a ledger, writing. She didn’t look up even when Sally started chattering like a gull.

  “The Hughes brothers are selling their cabin for twenty dollars. They’re leaving in September. It has a stove, and a chimney, and is made of sturdy logs. See-ya-yuk can show me how to chink between the logs and hang skins for warmth—”

  “Hush, Sally,” Mama cut in, her voice flat. She paused, her pen hovering over the ledger. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught the eye of Mr. Fox, who was frowning at us.

  “Is there a problem, Mrs. Dawson?” he asked, his words clipped. I flattened myself on the floor behind the counter. Mr. Fox did not like me in the shop. “This is a respectable business, not a kennel,” he had told Sally.

  “No problem, Mr. Fox!” Mama sounded cheery now. Then she turned back to Sally. “I am busy and you have filing to do, young lady.”

  Sally’s smile faded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mama stood and nodded toward the door. “Let’s put Murphy outside.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Come on, Murphy.” I followed Sally and Mama out to the front stoop, my head hanging.

  “I heard what you said about the Hughes brothers’ cabin,” Mama said, lowering her voice. “But we have made no decision about staying the winter. Your grandfather has written that he is coming to Nome on business. We will discuss the matter with him when he arrives.”

  “I don’t need to discuss the matter!” Sally cried out. “I have made a decision! I won’t return to Grandmama’s house and her harsh rules. Nome is my home now. Winter will be hard, but the Hughes cabin is ten steps from town.”

  Mama rubbed the bridge of her nose. Men passed by, tipping their hats, and she smiled politely. I wagged my tail, hoping to make her feel better, but it was as if she didn’t see me.

  “We need more than a cabin, Sally,” she finally said. “We need wood and supplies to last from October when the sea freezes until April when it thaws.”

  “I have saved money” Sally reached into the pocket of her pinafore and pulled out her pennies. “And when I find gold, we will have enough—”

  “Stop speaking of gold!” Taking Sally by the shoulders, Mama gave her a good shake. “Haven’t you learned anything from the miners? Few strike it rich. I see those who have tried come in to Fox & Gibson, penniless and broken. They don’t have enough coins for fare back to Seattle.”

  “But there are those who do find gold,” Sally protested.

  “The large companies that employ twenty men. You are a child, Sally. Wipe that foolish dream from your head and come in and do your work before Mr. Fox fires us both.” Mama gave Sally another shake. Then, turning, she strode back into the office with a swish of her skirts.

  For a moment, Sally was silent. Then she stroked my ears. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Murphy. And I am sorry you have to stay out here, but I won’t be long.”

  I whined
, trying to tell Sally that it would be okay, and that I was sad for her. Mama had never yelled before, and never had I seen her shake Sally.

  “I’m sorry that Mama isn’t excited about the cabin.” Sighing, she leaned over and rested her head on top of mine. “But what I am really sorry about is that every day the Mama I love grows more and more like the Grandmama I hope never to see again.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mukluks

  August 5, 1900

  Today you will practice wearing your harness.” Sally slipped a canvas coat over my head and buckled it around my stomach.

  She had sewn fur on the buckles and on the straps that hugged my neck, to keep them from chafing. Four leather ties hung from each side. She attached a bucket to those on one side and a rope to those on the other.

  We were in front of the tent, readying for a day on the tundra. The sun was already hot, and when I shook my head, drool flew in the air.

  “After we visit See-ya-yuk and go fishing, we’ll collect wood that I’ll tie to your harness. I’ll see how strong you really are,” Sally went on. “When we are on our own, panning for gold, you will need to haul the wood.”

  Since that day Mama had given Sally a shake, Sally often talked to me of “our claim” and “finding gold.” I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but I did know one thing—she never talked again to Mama about this trip.

  I took a step, and the bucket rattled. Slowly I had been getting used to this strange harness. I did not mind it as much as the pulling harness, and of course, I would do anything for Sally.

  “See-ya-yuk’s mother has finished my mukluks. I’ll need them for cold nights on the tundra.” Bending, she held my head in her hands and stared into my eyes. “Mama may think that gold has been knocked from my head. But she is wrong. And when we find that big nugget and buy the Hughes brothers’ cabin, she will change her mind about staying.” She kissed me on the top of my muzzle and I gave her a wet kiss in return. Then, standing, she swung her satchel over her shoulder and we headed into town.