Battle Fury

by Matt Chisholm

They talked some more and then the two men departed. Will started to feel a little better. Things were turning out better than he expected. He gathered the others together to tell them what had transpired. Everybody was pretty well pleased and Martha said: ‘You see, husband. No call for me to traipse off to Manuela’s a-tall.’

  Meredith Quentin said: ‘No call for me to stick around here, either, Mr. Storm. I aim to go look for Mart an’ Joe.’

  Will shouted: ‘You don’t do no such thing, Meredith. You stay right here.’ They all knew what was in his mind. One Quentin had been killed in these hills and that was enough.

  ‘I ain’t intendin’ no disrespect, Mr. Storm,’ Meredith said, ‘but I’m a-goin’.’

  ‘Goddam you, go then,’ Will said.

  Meredith stamped off to catch up his horse. When he had saddled and was stepping into the saddle, Will came up and said: ‘Meredith, you look out for yourself, boy. You know who they went after?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Meredith, ‘I know. The same kind that killed Charlie.’

  Will looked down at his feet.

  ‘Just so’s you remember you have friends here an’ they don’t want you to come to no harm, boy,’ he said.

  ‘That’s real nice of you, Mr. Storm, sir,’ Meredith said and turned his horse for the creek.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam James was a young New Englander who had run away from clerking in a dull store in a dull town in what he reckoned was a dull state. He’d gone west with five dollars and a clasp-knife in his pocket. It had taken him a long time to reach the gold-fields and in that time sometimes he worked and sometimes he starved. Somewhere north of Denver he had hired himself out to a mine boss as a laborer and in that back-breaking servile capacity he had met up with an Englishman of about his own age named Ralph Hardacre. They didn’t have much in common except their ages and their determination to find their fortunes in the wild and untamed land.

  They talked courage into each other and, with their first month’s pay in their pockets, they had got together some kind of an outfit which mostly consisted of a pick, a shovel, a revolver, about twenty rounds of ammunition, a pan, two blankets and not enough food, and headed into the hills to search for gold on their own account. Somewhere on the trail, they heard of the rush to Three Creeks and, half-starved, they at once headed in that direction.

  Their luck did not improve. Being on foot and weak with their exertions and lack of food, they moved slowly and so they arrived at the promising field too late to find a location of any value. All they could lay claim to was a stretch of creek some three miles south of the Storm place. Here they panned no more than ten dollars-worth of gold in as many days.

  Disheartened, they decided to call it a day and, being by now desperate for a good meal, they headed for the smoke of the Storm chimney and finding Martha in the yard they at once threw themselves on her mercy. Being Martha, she upbraided them for young fools and fed them such a meal as their own mothers had once done. They were stuffing themselves in the kitchen when George Storm came in and found them there. A moment later, his younger brother Jody joined them. Martha introduced them and the four young men at once began to exchange their news. When Sam and Ralph had recounted their tale of woe, all of which was borne out by their appearance, Jody showed a depth of sympathy that aroused surprise in both his mother and brother.

  ‘Heck, fellers,’ he said, ‘you sure had a bad time. Ma, how ’bout stakin’ these two fellers to a few days’ grub.’

  ‘Surely,’ said Martha.

  ‘We’ll pay you back soon as we strike it rich, Mrs. Storm,’ said the young Englishman.

  Jody laughed—‘That’ll be sooner than you think,’ he said.

  They both turned and looked at him.

  ‘What’s that mean?’ asked Sam James.

  ‘Boys,’ said Jody, leaning forward confidentially, ‘the gold on this here water don’t stand no chance of lastin’ more’n a snowball’s chance in the other place. A week, a month and them fellers out there’ll be makin’ tracks. But not you.’

  ‘Why not us?’ asked Hardacre.

  ‘Because I’m a-goin’ to tell you where you can find all the gold you want,’ said Jody.

  George’s eyes were wide. Martha looked at her son unbelievingly.

  ‘If you know where there’s gold,’ said the hard-headed New Englander, ‘how is it you’re not digging it?’

  ‘That’s a good question,’ said Jody, ‘an’ just about what I’d expect from an intelligent man like yourself. I ain’t a-diggin’ it because I don’t want it an’ that’s a fact. What would us Storms want with gold? Ma, you answer that—what would we want with gold?’

  ‘Why,’ said Martha, ‘we could—’

  ‘We don’t have no truck with that kinda thing,’ said Jody with authority. ‘We have land, we have cows. This is our kinda life.’

  ‘sure,’ said George at last getting his brother’s drift. ‘that’s a fact.’

  The two pilgrims looked from one of them to the other.

  ‘Where is this place?’ asked Hardacre in a whisper.

  ‘Wa-al, I’m warnin’ you fellers not to spread the word. Just keep it nice and quiet to yourselves.’

  ‘Sure,’ said James, ‘you have our word on it.’

  ‘Right—wa-al, there’s a little old valley just north of here,’ Jody went on, ‘two three hours ride. No more. It’s called Broken Spur. Now, I’m tellin’ you—it ain’t goin’ to be plain sailin’. There’s a cattleman up there who sure ain’t a-goin’ to take kindly to you pannin’ up that way. But there’s gold up there ... boys, I’m a-tellin’ you-all—you could pan a hunnerd dollars worth in one single solitary day. God strike me dead if I’m lyin’.’

  ‘Why hasn’t somebody found it already?’ James asked.

  ‘Another good question,’ Jody admitted. ‘Because it’s in a place that ain’t easily got at. But I can tell you how to find it.’

  ‘Why’re you doing this for us?’ Hardacre demanded maybe a little suspiciously.

  ‘Because my dear lady mother yonder raised me to think it a

  good thing to do kindly Christian acts an’—’

  ‘Jody Storm,’ Martha said threateningly.

  Jody pressed on—‘You don’t have to believe me. No, sir, you just go see for yourself. Ma’ll give you chuck for a week or more an’ you go right ahead an’ look.’

  An hour later, with full bellies and hope in their hearts, the two young men went on their way, tramping sturdily north toward Broken Spur. As they headed up the great grassy valley and Martha and her two sons watched them on their way, Martha said: ‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Jode, but I can’t say I like it too well. Those two nice young men, to lead them astray like that...’

  Jody turned a face marked with horror to his mother—‘Ma, you don’t tell me you think I was lyin’?’

  George stared at him.

  ‘You mean you was tellin’ the truth? There is gold on Broken Spur?’

  ‘Sure there is,’ said Jody, ‘I seen it with my own two eyes. Right where I said. Why, that spot’s so durned hard to reach a-horseback that Brack never heard of it. And whoever heard of a waddy walkin’ if he could ride? Those two boys can pan a day or two up that away and then a few more’s a-goin’ to hear about it. Brack’s gonna have a dose of his own medicine an’ I reckon it’s gonna purely choke him.’

  George slapped his brother on the back.

  ‘Jode,’ he shouted, ‘you beat all.’

  ‘I done told you a hunnerd times,’ Jody said modestly, ‘I’m the only one in the family to get grandpappy’s brains.’

  ‘You aim to tell your pa?’ Martha demanded.

  ‘Naw,’ said Jody, ‘let it come as a pleasant surprise.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  The two pilgrims went north with mixed feelings. The human spirit had been warmed by the treatment they had received at the Storm place, but they also had a small doubt in their minds that Jody Storm had been telling the tr
uth. There was a certain wildness about the boy that made you think that he might go to untold lengths to play a practical joke. This aspect of Jody increased in their minds the further they approached the northern ridge of the Three Creeks valley. They had both come hard long trails since leaving home and the one lesson they had learned well was that the remainder of mankind was not always to be trusted. They had not enjoyed a great deal of good luck in their young lives and there was, they reasoned, some doubt that it would change now.

  When they had climbed the northern ridge and were gazing down onto the range of Broken Spur, Hardacre, the Englishman said: ‘Sam, I think that man was spoofing us.’

  They sat down to rest and Sam said: ‘Yeah. That’s my sentiment, too. What got into us so we believed him when he talked?’

  ‘I suppose it’s because we want to find gold more than anything else in the world. We have our minds set on gold. Just this moment, I feel like throwing in the towel, going home and finding myself a job.’

  ‘That way,’ said Sam, ‘at least you’d be eating maybe a meal like that Mrs. Storm gave us.’

  They stayed silent for some time and when they had regained their breath and had cooled off a little, Ralph said: ‘Well, we might as well take a look, I suppose.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They rose to their feet and made their way down the steep ridge. To their left was running water, coming down from the hills to the west. It looked delicious to the now once more sweating young men. It was shaded by trees and looked limpid and inviting. The trees marched away to the north for about a mile and then gave way to a great jumbled mass of blue-gray rock. That, they knew, hid the spot that Jody Storm had mentioned.

  They reached the foot of the ridge and started to tramp parallel to the creek. Off to their right were a loose bunch of grazing cattle. On their flanks there saw the large brand of the Broken Spur. That didn’t mean too much to them and they tramped steadily on, pushing their way through the long lush grass. When they reached the first of the rocks, they were glad to rest. By this time they were tired, dispirited and had no more hope of finding gold than they had of flying. But, as searching for gold had become a habit with them, after a short spell, they went on and picked their way slowly and laboriously through the rocks.

  As they progressed, they found to their surprise that deep among that rocky mass was greenery. Brush and trees were verdant along the edge of the water. Great walls of stone reared up on either hand. The way grew more narrow and they were forced to wade through the shallows. Sam, whose boots were badly worn, complained that they were leaking.

  After a while, Ralph, who was in the lead, stopped and said: ‘See that big rock up there. That’s the one Storm told us to look out for.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Sam agreed.

  When they came to a dry shelf of rock, they climbed up on it and dumped their packs. At once, as was their habit, they unhitched their pans and climbed down into the water. They started panning and it wasn’t long before they knew that Jody Storm hadn’t lied. They both discovered that they were staring at gold-dust in their pans at the same moment.

  ‘Jesus,’ Sam said in awe.

  ‘Sam, we finally found it.’

  Sam sat down on the nearest rock. His legs just wouldn’t hold him. He said: ‘I came over kind of queer, Ralph.’

  ‘Me too,’ said the Englishman. ‘I can’t believe it. It just doesn’t seem possible.’

  Sam was suddenly cautious—‘It don’t mean there’s a fortune here,’

  They both started panning in earnest. But before they were through with the first pans, they both stopped. They both heard the same sound in the same instant and looked up-stream.

  There was a solitary horseman coming toward them, walking his horse through the shallows. Before he reached them, the going became too much for the horse, so the man dismounted and left the animal to approach them on foot. They took in the cattleman’s clothes, the broad-brimmed hat, the shot-gun chaps, the gun on the hip.

  He stopped about a dozen yards from them and said: ‘What you two men think you’re at?’

  He was a big man with a weather-beaten face and a beard. His eyes were the palest gray and he looked as if he could whip them both with one hand tied behind his back. A fact that was not missed by the two young pilgrims.

  ‘We,’ said Ralph Hardacre with an Englishman’s disdain, ‘are panning for gold, as you can well see.’

  The cowman was silent for a moment, taking the insulting tone right in the face and not blinking.

  In a gentle tone which they both knew did not reflect his true feelings, he said: ‘This here range belongs to Broken Spur, boys. You’d best get along.’

  Sam James wasn’t to be so easily put off. He came of stubborn stock and he didn’t much fancy the theatrical rig of this cavalier of the prairie so popular in Eastern fiction. To him the fellow was a herdsman on horseback in fancy dress. Just the same, he kept his eye warily on the man’s right hand. He’d heard about cowboys and the way they shot a man before breakfast without losing appetite.

  ‘Mister,’ he said in a voice he managed somehow to keep firm, ‘this is public domain and I’m a free citizen of the good old United States. I’m here and here I aim to stay till I’ve a mind to go someplace else.’

  The cowman stayed calm, let it be said to his credit.

  ‘Maybe you two pilgrims,’ he said, ‘ain’t too familiar with the way things are out thisaway. There’s a man owns five thousand head of cows and he holds this land agin all comers—plowboys, cowmen, Indians, sheepmen an’ pilgrims. There ain’t no law here but the gun on my hip. An’ that law says you move on. Now, I’m tellin’ you nice an’ polite. Don’t go givin’ yourselves a load of grief.’

  ‘You mean,’ said Ralph in a cold and superior tone, ‘you’d use that gun to have your own way.’

  The cowman grinned. ‘That’s the way of it, greenhorn.’

  Rather to Sam James’ amazement, the Englishman pulled his massive revolver from his belt and cocked it. It pointed unwaveringly at the stranger’s heart.

  ‘Another gun,’ said Ralph, ‘another law. I suggest you remount your horse and leave us to our lawful business.’

  Sam was never one to fail a friend, so he unlimbered his own revolver and said: ‘That sounds like good advice to me, sir.’

  The cowman went a dull purple color. When he was able to speak, he said: ‘Sonny, give me that cannon afore you shoot yourself plumb dead.’

  Sam said: ‘No chance of that, cowboy. Ralph could shoot the buttons off your shirt without drawing blood.’

  ‘A slight exaggeration made out of loyalty,’ said Ralph, who was starting to enjoy himself. ‘But it’s fair to say I could put a bullet through your heart from here with no trouble.’

  The cowboy looked as though he could believe it. Just the same, he said: ‘You’re a-goin’ to be awful sorry about this. Mr. Brack’s goin’ to be fit to be tied when he hears about this. There’ll be a dozen armed men in here by dawn. Mr. Brack’s a hangin’ man, boys an’ that’s a fact.’

  ‘You’d best go,’ Sam said, ‘before we get mad.’

  The stranger went to say something more, but he evidently thought better of it. Turning, he splashed his way back to his horse and swung himself into the saddle. Before he rode away, he said: ‘Use your heads, boys. You can’t win.’

  ‘We’ve won,’ said Ralph. ‘We’ve found gold.’

  The man’s eyes nearly took leave of their sockets.

  ‘What?’ he exclaimed.

  Sam said: ‘The creek bed’s thick with gold dust.’

  ‘Jumpin’ snakes,’ said the cowboy. He turned his horse in a hurry and forced the animal into a run through the water. In a moment he was out of sight. The two young gold-seekers looked at each other and started shaking a little.

  ‘I was too hasty,’ said the Englishman. ‘It’s always been my weakness.’

  ‘Don’t give it a thought,’ said the New Englander. ‘I’m not going to be chased
off this gold by a sonovabitch on horseback or anybody else.’

  ‘You think he meant that—about the armed men?’

  ‘Sure he meant it. These cattle-folk’re poison.’

  ‘We must prepare for defense.’

  ‘First, we mark our claim,’ said Sam, who believed in first things first. ‘Once the word gets out, every man-jack in this neck of the woods’ll be up here.’

  Ralph started laughing. Sam looked at him as if he’d gone crazy.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘they won’t come with guns. Maybe they’ll come with pans.’

  That wasn’t so far from the truth.

  When Mike Summers, who was the man who had found the two young gold-hunters on Broken Spur range, reached headquarters, he went straight to his boss and told him what he had learned. He failed to make mention of the fact that he had been braced by two greenhorns. When Ed Brack heard the news, he was struck momentarily speechless.

  ‘This,’ he said, when he had found his voice, ‘is Will Storm’s doin’.’

  ‘How many diggers did you say were on the creek?’ Ed demanded.

  ‘Two.’

  ‘You mean there were only two and you did nothing about it? You eat something didn’t make you feel too good or something?’

  ‘No, sir. I thought it best I report to you first. My first thought was to drive ’em the Hell outa there. Then I thought, no, maybe Mr. Brack ought to know about this. There might be more comin’ in an’ then we could use some more men and make a clean sweep of it.’

  ‘All right,’ said Brack. ‘We’ll get some riders together and make a clean sweep of the whole of that corner of the valley. How many men do you have here?’

  ‘There’s Jim Sprovan. He twisted his ankle and can’t ride. The rest of the men’re out on the range.’

  ‘Twisted his ankle? Christ, do I pay wages to a bunch of milksops? You get him on a horse and go round up the other men. You do the same. And just get this into your head, Mike—I want this settled by night fall.’

  ‘Maybe I can’t get all the men in by that time, boss?’