by Gary D. Svee
A soft rumble filtered through the crowd.
Dolby waved a small leather-covered book. “One of the miners, Jasper Smith, kept a little journal in one of his boots. Let me read a little of it, starting at October 2.
“Blizzard. Terrible blizzard. We’re out of wood and food and no way to get more. Just to step into that howling wind to take a.…” Dolby looked up, willing the crowd to understands. Nods spread through the crowd. “This comes four days later:”
“We’ve all crowded into one tent so we can share each other’s warmth. This is a terrible cold, and without food, I don’t know how many of us will survive. One man said we should eat the men as they die, so the rest of us can live. Miles Standish volunteered to walk down the mountain through his howling wind to get help. He asked us to wait three days before we did something that would haunt us all of our lives. We all thanked him, but we know he is walking to his death because he doesn’t want to be part of what will likely happen in this camp.”
Dolby waved the journal over his head. “This makes for good reading. It tells about how Bodmer told the miners to give him their gold, so he he could make sure it got back to their families.” The sheriff stepped closer to Bodmer. “They didn’t get back to their families, and their gold didn’t either.”
A resolute rage settled on the sheriff’s face. “Jasper wanted to run. He wanted to run into the storm and die. “But you didn’t let him die with dignity.”
Dolby stuck his face next to Bodmer’s. “You’re signature is on this book, Bodmer. You signed it with Smith’s blood. He had to be alive when you cut his throat you son of a bitch, or he wouldn’t have bled so much.”
“You are the Moose Creek cannibal Bodmer, and if they didn’t die fast enough to suit your fancy, you killed them. Smith says you were partial to liver.”
Bodmer jerked Miller’s pistol from his holster, pointing it at Dolby. He was shaking his head violently. “No, that’s not true. That couldn’t be true. See, there’s the real cannibal. Don’t you see him coming down the street, there?” Bodmer shot at the shadow walking toward him, and again and again. Then the shadow stepped beside the wagon and looked up at Bodmer. It was Bodmer, carrying a man’s liver in his hands, his mouth bloody and grinning.
“I know how to kill you,” Bodmer screamed, and he pressed the muzzle of the pistol against his own temple.
CHAPTER 16
“Sorry you had to see that.” Standish stood on the depot landing. The train porter was waiting, not very patiently for Arch and Iona to board.
Arch scuffed at the dirt with his shoes. “Where we going?”
“Boston.”
Arch shook his head. “I think we should stay here. Don’t see any reason to go”
“I want you to meet your grandparents.”
“If they’re so hesper grand, why ain’t they ever come here?”
Iona’s face dropped, but Standish stepped in. “I can understand why the boy wouldn’t want to go.”
Iona’s attention jerked to Standish. Surely he didn’t think she would go back to Boston and leave Arch to fend for himself.
Standish sighed. “Those dining cars can be an awful nuisance.”
Iona nodded, a slight grin crossing her face. “I agree they’re a terrible nuisance. Always after you to eat.”
“Course the food is good.”
“Really good.”
“I can’t imagine where they get steaks that big.”
Iona’s face wrinkled. “I’ve wondered about that, too. Could be they raise those cows down in Texas.”
“Well, Texans say everything’s bigger down there.”
“Except mountains.”
“And trout,” Standish added. “Texas doesn’t have cutthroat as big as the one Arch caught.”
Arch’s head had tipped toward one shoulder, and the lid crawled shut over one eye. “How big are those steaks?”
Standish shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Arch. No way you could eat a steak that big. Maybe you can get them to cut one in half for you.”
Iona shook her head. “Arch probably couldn’t eat more than a quarter of a steak like that.”
“I could, too,” Arch said. “I’ll bet I could eat the whole steak.”
Standish rubbed his knuckles across his chin. “Not with the potatoes they serve.”
“They serve potatoes with that big steak?” Arch asked, wonder in his eyes.
Iona nodded. “I have to admit their potatoes are really good.”
Arch swallowed. “How do they fix those potatoes?”
“Anyway you want,” Standish said. “They’ll give you mashed potatoes and gravy or fried potatoes or scalloped potatoes or baked potatoes or.…”
Arch tugged on Standish’s sleeve. “Them scalped potatoes. What are they?”
Iona shook her head. “Arch wouldn’t like scalloped potatoes.”
Standish nodded. “Probably not. All that cheese would likely put him off.”
“Cheese on potatoes,” Arch whispered. “Peterson cheese?”
“Wisconsin Cheese,” Standish said.
“Ain’t as good as Peterson cheese,” Arch said.
“There are people that say Wisconsin cheese is the best cheese in the world. Course they’ve never had an expert like you to taste it.”
Arch nodded. One eye squeezed shut. “I ’spose I could taste it for them—for a fair price.”
“A prince among men,” Standish said.
“Always putting others first,” Iona added.
Arch nodded. They had that right. Arch blinked and took a deep breath. “What about the varlet?”
Standish shrugged. “I was thinking that Sally and Hortenzia and I would go back into the mountains. See if we can find that old man.”
“Will you come back?”
“I suppose.”
“And take care of the garden.”
Standish nodded.
“Why don’t you come back to Maine?” A plaintive note hung on Iona’s words.
Arch nodded, “That’s what I was thinking, Ma. It’s a long way to go without the varlet. Ma, I.…” Arch stomped to the depot wall, and stood staring at it, shoulders shaking.
Standish glanced at his boots, and then stared into Iona’s eyes. “Will you ever come back?”
Iona shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Think you could write?”
Iona smiled. “I’ll be sure Arch adds a little note, too.”
Standish nodded.
“All aboard.”
Iona sighed. “We have to go.”
“I know.”
Iona stood on her toes and kissed Standish on the lips. “Thank you.”
Pain spread over Standish’s face. “You’re the one deserving the thanks.”
A tear ran down Iona’s face. “We have to go.”
Standish tried to smile. “Full sail and straight ahead.”
Iona took Arch’s shoulder in her hand, and the two walked toward the porter. Arch stopped and ran back to Standish. Standish knelt, and Arch hugged him.
“So long, Arch.”
“Don’t want to go. Want Ma and me to stay here…with you.”
“Boston will be good for your mother. You want that, don’t you?”
Standish could feel Arch’s head nodding against his chest. Arch stood then and walked toward his mother and the train. He turned and waved, and then he was gone.
Acknowledgments
Wally McLane, editor/writer, for his help and suggestions in this story. Mike Nicholes, a counselor, who helps me probe my characters’ minds.
About the Author
Gary D. Svee grew up along the banks of the Yellowstone, Stillwater, and Rosebud Rivers in Montana. His novels include Spirit Wolf, Showdown at Buffalo Jump, The Peacemaker’s Vengeance, and the Spur Award winner Sanctuary. Svee lives in Billings, Montana.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion t
hereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Gary D. Svee
Cover design by Mauricio Diaz
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9399-7
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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