Gold Rush!

by Jesse Wiley

  “I’ll lend ye me horse, Keller.” Fergus pulls on his red beard. “But I cannot go. Not when ye hear tales about the River Rush Gang lurking about these parts.”

  Mr. Southworth points into the distance. “Those people need our help, Fergus.”

  Fergus shakes his head. “Wish I could help ye, Mr. Southworth, I do. But I won’t risk it. Me family needs me.”

  Only you, Papa, and Mr. Southworth ride off to aid the stranded wagon train. You’re not sure what you can do with only three people, but you have to try.

  When you finally reach the narrow chasm of the Gate of Death, the situation is worse than you thought. The people have just been robbed by the River Rush Gang, and others have been badly wounded by rockslides caused by rain. They are a small five-wagon train, but each wagon is damaged, from broken axles to rotted wooden beams to missing wheels. Supplies and food are strewn everywhere, including a dead horse that makes you shudder just to look at it. You could carry the wounded, but it will be a slow walk back to the wagon train. There are small children, and babies, even. Between your horse and Mr. Southworth’s, you can only carry a couple people.

  Mr. Southworth turns toward you and Papa. “Should we try to fix the wagons? They look like they’re in a bad way. Might be too much, but we could try.”

  Papa wipes his hands on his pants. “It might take too long—and the wounded won’t make it if they don’t get medical help as soon as possible.”

  “But we can’t carry the wounded on our horses.” Mr. Southworth puts his hand on his side. “That will be even worse for them. They’ll need to be carried by two people, or laid on a wagon.”

  Should you try to repair the damaged wagons or help everyone to walk back to your own wagon train?

  To walk back, turn to page 73

  To repair the wagons, turn to page 98

  Return to page 95

  You take a little more medicine. You’ve only had a few sips so far; maybe more will help. You tip the bottle back. Instead of a sip, you accidentally dump the rest of the bottle into your mouth. Coughing, your eyes fill with stinging tears. It tastes horrendous. Now your stomach feels almost worse than it did before.

  You head back toward your tent and you still don’t feel better. Your stomach rumbles and gurgles. You can still taste the medicine on your tongue.

  “Where were you?” Fiona peeks out of her tent.

  You jump. “Nowhere.”

  Fiona eyes you. “You don’t look good. What did you eat? Drink water that’s not boiled?”

  “No,” you lie. “I just . . . it’s a bit hot tonight, isn’t it?” You tug at your collar.

  Fiona touches your forehead. “You really don’t look well.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Mr. Southworth walks by, holding his fiddle case.

  “No one.” Fever overtakes you and fire dances before your eyes. You waver on unsteady legs and then collapse. Your journey on the Trail ends here.

   THE END

  Return to page 75

  It’s a very hard decision, but you can’t give up any more of your water rations to oxen, not while you’re lost in the desert. You’ll be two oxen down, but four oxen will still be able to pull your wagon.

  “Eh, excuse me.” Fergus leans against the side of your wagon. “But I think there’s somethin’ ye need t’ know. I saw someone stealin’ yer water the other night, when ye were all sleepin’.”

  “It would make sense.” Mama looks to Papa, worried. “We’ve been so careful about measuring out our rations. It was either a leak, or . . .”

  Papa stands up. “Did you see who it was?”

  Fergus points to the Beauregard wagon. “It was the Cap’n’s son. George. Saw him carryin’ it in buckets.”

  Your eyes widen.

  “What should we do?” Mama puts her hand on your shoulder. “If his parents don’t know about it, then we can’t really say much. He’s just a child. If they’re lacking water—”

  “And if they do know about it?” Papa’s brow furrows. “Either way, we’re all down on our water rations. He’s old enough to know that he’s stealing—and stealing something that could mean the difference between life and death.”

  Mama shakes her head. “So what should we do?”

  Should you confront the Beauregards about their son stealing water, or say nothing?

  To confront the Beauregards, turn to page 83

  To say nothing, turn to page 56

  Return to page 115

  Papa is far away from you, but you still think it’s a better idea to call him back for help.

  “Papa! Papa, help! Snake!”

  “Hang on!” Papa hurries back. “Don’t move!”

  Tippet barks wildly. The snake briefly turns its attention to your foxhound, lashing out at Tippet’s nose. Tippet snaps back at the snake and tries to bat at it with a paw.

  You dash away and into Papa’s arms. The snake nearly gets Tippet’s paw, but the dog’s sharp teeth make the snake recede into the grass.

  “Tippet, c’mere!” You pat your leg. Tippet ignores you for a minute, but finally trots away from the snake and stares up at you dolefully.

  Papa catches the snake. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  It’s not quite the meal you were hoping for, but it’s a bit of protein.

  You’re so hungry sitting by the campfire that you can hardly wait for the snake meat to finish cooking. You dig into your slim piece of snake before the others. Mama warns you that the meat might not be fully cooked. In the back of your mind, you know that eating undercooked food might make you sick, but you’re too hungry to care.

  That night, you wake up to stomach cramps and severe nausea. You die of food poisoning within the next day.

   THE END

  Return to page 26

  Spot will throw you as soon as you try to mount him. It’s not a good idea to ride him right now. You’ll have to round up the livestock on foot.

  You made the right call. Spot kicks out at anything that gets near him for the rest of the day. Finally, you stop for supper. You’re so tired, you can’t even think about eating, but when you smell smoked meat, you force yourself to stay awake. You help Mama make cornbread.

  Mr. Southworth walks over with his fiddle case and a bag of coffee to join your family for supper again. He wears suspenders and a bright blue shirt, and he’s whistling a joyful tune. The McAllisters also bring food, and three children. Fiona and Harry are twelve and ten—around your age—and have bright red hair with faces covered in freckles—just like their father. The third child is a tiny babe with red curls sprouting from her little head. Despite everyone’s exhaustion, laughter rings out through your campsite.

  “Here.” Mr. Southworth hands you a steaming tin cup of coffee. “Think you could use this.”

  “Thanks.” The bitter coffee burns your throat, but you like the chicory taste. You see Harry trying a sip across the fire. He makes a face, and you share grins.

  “I don’t think I ever asked—what made you folks decide to come out West?” Mr. Southworth sips his coffee. “Has the gold fever struck you, too?”

  There’s a distance in your mother’s expression. “In a way. It’s time for a fresh start. Connecticut has been growing more crowded by the day. The land has been taken away from us bit by bit, tree by tree. My people, the Mashantucket Pequots, were either sold off as slaves or forced to barter over the tiniest bit of reservation. Many of my family have left the reservation to find work. My brother and his wife moved out to California several years ago, and we’re considering joining them in Sacramento—or going to Oregon City. We haven’t decided yet.”

  “I’ve got hope for the future.” Mr. Southworth checks his pocket watch and snaps it shut. “It’s been hard, I’m not going to lie. But I plan on buying freedom for myself and my mother once I reach her in Oregon. I’ve dreamt about it my whole life, and it’s so close now I can just taste it.” He scratches his thick beard, his eyes growing wistful.“With a little blac
ksmithing here, some gold mining there. I plan on farming, too. And maybe with a bit of this gold nugget right here.” He pulls out his fiddle case. “Anything to give my mother and I the freedom we deserve.”

  Your eyes widen. “You’re going to play the fiddle?”

  He laughs. “That’s right. Folk of all kinds pay to hear good music. And that’s what I play: good music.” He plucks at the strings before picking up his bow.

  He starts to play, and a sweet sound emerges from the fiddle. His fingers dance over the strings as he the bow back and forth.

  You recognize the tune as “Turkey in the Straw.”

  “It’s magical!” Fiona tosses a coin into the fiddle case and gets up to dance. Eventually she drags you, Benji, and a reluctant Harry along, and soon enough everyone is clapping to Mr. Southworth’s lively music. It’s a joyful finish to a difficult couple of days.

  * * *

  In the morning, you set off for Red Vermillion Crossing. You roll through flat plains and gentle hills. It takes two and a half days.

  “Another river crossing?” You ride Spot alongside the wagon. “Didn’t we just ford a river?”

  Papa nods. “We’ll have to cross a lot of rivers to get where we’re going. But believe me—if we end up going on the California Trail, we’ll be wishing we were crossing rivers every week. We’ll be in the worst stretch of desert you can imagine.”

  Your mouth already feels dry. “Maybe we should go to Oregon City instead.”

  “Maybe so.” Papa wipes his brow.

  When you come to the toll bridge operator, you find that it costs one dollar per wagon to cross. Your wagon train halts, arguing over options.

  “It’s a fortune.” Papa puts his hands on his hips. “But to ford the river might cost us even more in the end.”

  “There may be another way.” Mama looks closely at the map. “We could follow the Vermillion River north until it narrows into a creek and cross there. It’ll add several days to our journey. Keep in mind: More time means we need more food to eat.”

  It’s a tough decision. Should you pay the toll and risk not having enough money for the rest of the trip? Or go around the toll and add time onto your trip? What should you do?

  To pay for the toll bridge, turn to page 108

  To go around the toll, turn to page 133

  Return to page 126

  The wagons are heavily damaged and will take too long to repair, even with Mr. Southworth and Papa working together to fix them. The bandits might come back or the weather could get worse and flood the chasm. You need to help everyone walk back toward Fort Hall to get them out of danger.

  You help a wounded person walk as Papa puts two small children on Spot. Mr. Southworth’s horse carries three other children. It’s a long, slow slog back to your camp at American Falls with frequent rest stops.

  Everyone is tired, hungry, and irritable. You don’t have a doctor in your wagon train, but Mama steps in to help with her knowledge of splinting broken bones.

  The stranded pioneers lost most of their food supply to the bandits, and they’re far too tired to go hunting for food themselves. You and Mr. Southworth share what you can spare, but it’s hardly enough, and you have to think about your own families for the coming difficult months ahead on the Trail. What’s more, some people in your wagon train don’t want the extra burden of these new pioneers.

  You’re faced with a new dilemma: Should you bring the stranded pioneers all the way back to Fort Hall, or take them with you?

  To bring them back to Fort Hall, turn to page 31

  To take them with you, turn to page 79

  Return to page 58

  “It’s not a good idea.” You get closer to Papa. “Why would they share their ‘secret’ gold stash? It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  Papa slowly shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.” He draws the other members of your wagon train aside. While John seems intent on wanting to believe them, you see doubt creep into the others’ eyes. Finally, John relents and agrees with you and Papa.

  As you leave the fur trappers behind, you see their angry, resentful glares. You made the right call.

  The next day, your wagon train moves on from Fort Laramie. You travel through the heart of the Great Plains. Just when you think you’ll never see another hill again, you find yourselves passing small but steadily increasing slopes. You’re nearing the mountains—and South Pass.

  You make it to Independence Rock on July tenth, only several days after Independence Day. Your wagon train stops to have a little celebration. Even though you stocked up on flour, beans, and bacon back at Fort Laramie, you still have trouble finding buffalo herds. You use every buffalo chip sparingly and make it last as long as possible.

  Your wagon train comes to an infamous rocky gorge called Devil’s Gate, a gorge too narrow to fit a single wagon through.

  Harry puts his hand to your ear. “I heard that there was a murder here. That’s why people call this place Devil’s Gate—they think it’s haunted.”

  You smack your lips. “Just a tall tale.”

  Harry shrugs. “I read it in a pamphlet somewhere.”

  Even Fiona looks uneasy as you stop to rest near a trading post at Devil’s Gate. You still carve your names into the rock and make note of the bighorn sheep climbing atop the crags. You try not to be too concerned about how low the Sweetwater River has become. You’re in a drought, and it’s a not a good sign for your time ahead in the desert.

  A day after leaving Devil’s Gate, Mr. Southworth and Papa spot another buffalo herd nearby and go off to hunt. You stick around to help prepare the camp for the night. That night, a hearty celebration takes place when Mr. Southworth and Papa come back with a buffalo. You eat your fill of the meat.

  The next day, you sneak another piece of buffalo meat from the night before onto the skillet. Mama’s always told you it’s bad to eat meat that’s been sitting—even if you cook it. But you know that johnnycakes and bacon won’t fill you up.

  After you eat the buffalo, you don’t feel well. You sneak back to your wagon and take a sip of some medicine Mama brought. You feel better almost right away, but not entirely. You want to drink more, but Mama warned against taking too much. But maybe a little more couldn’t hurt? Should you take more, or be patient and wait for it to work?

  To drink more, turn to page 61

  To wait, turn to page 145

  Return to page 100

  You let the stranded pioneers join your wagon train. The additional folks diminish your supplies more quickly, but you have to help them get to Oregon City. The rest of your wagon train isn’t happy with the decision.

  As you start off, your pace is much slower than you’d anticipated. With the wounded and children adding weight to the wagons, you and Mr. Southworth lag behind the rest of your wagon train. It’s like you’re moving through quicksand.

  Everyone else becomes impatient and picks up their pace. You can’t keep up. When you finally reach Three Island Crossing, exhausted and out of so supplies, your family decides to stop your journey here. You set up a way station for fellow pioneers and live off of trading. It’s not Oregon City, but you and your family have a decent life here.

   THE END

  Return to page 73

  You hold off on eating and drinking. You take one sip of water that’s been boiled. Instead of joining your family for supper, you crawl into the tent you share with Benji and try to rest.

  “What’s the matter?” Mama pokes her head into the tent and presses her hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up and your skin is clammy. What did you eat today? Were you bitten by something?” She hurries to check the back of your neck and the rest of your body for bites.

  “No, I . . . I think it was the . . . water.” The inside of the tent spins around you.

  “Let us hope you don’t have dysentery.” Mama rubs your back and rushes to get you a tin cup of boiled water. “Here. Sip slowly. You can’t become dehydrated.”

  Ov
er the next couple of days, several other members of the wagon train become sick as well, including Papa.

  “The water could be brackish or alkaline.” Mama helps Papa climb into the wagon to rest. “We need to make sure all water is boiled before drinking.”

  Your wagon train crawls into Alcove Spring at a snail’s pace. Papa lies in the back of the wagon, pale and sweaty. You ride on Spot, hunched over in pain and weak. You can’t herd the livestock feeling this sick.

  You rest in Alcove Spring for several days. The rest of the wagon train is too far ahead to help. Soon enough, all of you are too weak to continue on the Trail.

   THE END

  Return to page 133

  You confront the Beauregards. John and Stella are horrified at the news.

  “We had no idea.” Dark bags hang under John’s eyes. “He will apologize.”