Salmon River Kid

by Joseph Dorris

  “No, sir, I’m not.” Samuel felt himself warming up. His fear had eased. “I’m simply doing as Mr. Stromback asked. Of course, you know I’m returning to Iowa shortly. I was just offering my good-byes to the family, to Bonnie, and to you as well, now that you’re here. I’ll be seeing everyone off tomorrow. Please enjoy the evening.”

  He turned to Bonnie. “Thank you, ma’am, for the dance.” He bowed slightly.

  Rex sputtered. The music started up. He pulled Bonnie onto the floor and, crushing her to himself, danced awkwardly.

  Samuel did his best to act composed. His feelings inside were a flood of ice and fire.

  Some of the men nodded knowing looks toward him.

  Samuel was still sitting when Stromback returned. He did not ask anything but sat a moment with Samuel while Rex and Bonnie finished their last dance.

  “Here you be, I see he showed up.”

  “And how,” muttered Samuel.

  “You sure you want to go back to Iowa?”

  Samuel shrugged. He could say nothing.

  In the morning, Bonnie met Samuel as he packed to head out. Rex was sleeping off his whiskey.

  “Maybe you could find work in Iowa,” Samuel suggested. He wondered about his comment. His own family could barely feed themselves. He suddenly felt bitter about coming west, looking for gold. Their lives would be no better after he and his father returned.

  She peered steadily back, her greenish eyes unwavering. “Maybe you could find work and stay here, Samuel.”

  Samuel felt miserable. He was drawn to her. Unlike Lilly, Bonnie was a person he could feel good about and live with forever.

  He found himself shaking. “I-I can’t. I got to go back with my pa.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “And I am so thankful I got to see you again, Samuel.”

  “Does that mean you’ll go back to Rex?” He couldn’t believe his own words.

  She shrugged. “I told you before—he’s here.”

  Samuel felt sick again and looked away. It made him somehow feel dirty.

  “Don’t say that. You’re young. We’re both young. Lots can happen. You once said something like that,” Samuel managed. “Look, at least let me see you when we’re leaving out. Probably a month yet. We got to mine some ore from the O’Riley and get it proved up enough to sell it. Then we’ll be on our way. M-maybe things will be different by then.”

  “Are you asking me to wait, Samuel?” Bonnie asked, a slight smile tugging at her lips, her dimples showing.

  “I-I don’t know,” Samuel stammered. His thoughts raced.

  She nodded and then reached her arms about him and kissed him.

  Chapter 32

  TWO DAYS LATER, Samuel climbed out of the Salmon River canyon toward the freight landing. A thousand thoughts had plagued him the entire distance. Mostly he thought about Bonnie.

  Just off the saddle beyond the freight landing, he reached the long section of trail that traversed the dense timber and caught sight of movement and a flash of horses ahead. Samuel reached for his pistol. Edging closer, he recognized the black and the dun and their two riders. A chill shook him. Reuben Finney and Orwin Culler. He felt his stomach tighten. The Chinese were right; they were back. He quickly turned off the trail, hoping the two men had not seen him.

  Samuel carefully moved up through the timber to where he could see them more clearly. There was no mistaking the two men. It was Finney, derby askew, vest and shirt showing even more dirt and wear. Culler wore the same long, black frock and was shaking his head. Samuel remembered his dark, sunken eyes and matted black hair and beard.

  Samuel wanted to move past them, but he dared not. Finney had pulled a pistol on him before when he had interceded to help Kan Dick. And Samuel had made Culler appear a fool in front of the sheriff, which Culler was unlikely to soon forget. Meeting these two here … maybe they would just rough him up, but they also might put a bullet in him. Samuel could not risk either.

  He had no choice but to stay back and to let the men move on. Maybe they would turn off the trail for one of the new placers. They were certainly up to no good.

  He waited a long while after they had moved off down the trail before he cautiously began following. After another hour, he topped a rise where he could see a good length of trail. Hesitantly, he moved into the open. He caught sound of someone and whirled around, expecting Finney and Culler to be behind him. Instead, it was a party of three men, leading a heavily packed mule. He waited for them to catch up, keeping his hand near his pistol. He recognized the men as being from Warren’s and having been at Slate Creek for the Independence Day celebration.

  “What’s going on, kid?” one of the men asked. Samuel recognized Max Barnhart, a hardrock miner.

  “Heading back to Warren’s is all. ’Spect like you, Mr. Barnhart.”

  They moved up to where they could talk. The horses and mule paused impatiently.

  “You look a little jumpy, kid,” Barnhart said, glancing at Samuel’s hand near his pistol.

  Samuel wondered if he should tell him about Finney and Culler. “Could be I don’t want to meet a couple men up along the trail,” he confided.

  Barnhart nodded. “Not good to be travelin’ alone in this country.” The other two men nodded as well.

  Samuel knew it was never wise to travel alone. Men were not the only kind of trouble, although they were probably the worst kind.

  He was not surprised when they met Finney and Culler on the opposite side of the clearing. He wondered if they were fool enough to take on four men.

  “Howdy,” Finney called out. Barnhart and the others returned his greeting.

  “Need help?” Barnhart asked.

  “Nah, just taking a spell,” Finney said, smiling. He eyed Samuel. “Well, well, if it ain’t the Chambers boy.”

  Samuel’s heart caught. He recognized Finney’s voice. “Howdy, Mr. Finney … Mr. Culler.” He nodded toward each man.

  Culler glared, his dark eyes glittering. He rested his hand on his rope, and Samuel knew.

  “You still in the territory, kid?” Culler asked.

  “I reckon. We were supposed to head out last winter, but our sluice got robbed.” He stared unflinchingly at Culler.

  “That’s a hell of a thing, now isn’t it, men?” Culler glanced a bit nervously at the others.

  “We heard about it,” Barnhart muttered. He flashed Samuel a strange look. “Ever find out who might’ve done it, Samuel?”

  Samuel shook his head. “Likely it was the same two men that pilfered the sluices last summer on the Secesh. Sheriff Sinclair never did find them.”

  Both Culler and Finney stared stonily at Samuel. Samuel knew he was pushing it, but he had to be certain, and now he was. He clucked to Spooky to move on. The men pushed past.

  Barnhart rode near him. “You and your pa sure did have a run of bad luck. Your placer was jumped as well, wasn’t it?”

  “It was.”

  “And you never figured out who?”

  “Nope.” Samuel felt it wise not to involve Barnhart.

  Finney and Culler really are back, Samuel reflected. He doubted they would dry-gulch him just for his suspicions, but he knew he had to be careful.

  Samuel rode with the other miners until he reached the trail down the Big Meadow toward his cabin.

  “Much obliged for the company,” he told them and turned downstream.

  When he reached the cabin, he continued past, intending to visit the Sweet Mary and see if there was water.

  “Pa, you’re here working.”

  “Hello, son,” Charles replied, smiling and swinging another bucket of gravel into the sluice. “Good to see you made it back. How was the trip?”

  “Tell me why you’re here and not out at McLane’s.”

  “Just checking to see what you left me.” Char
les chuckled. “Still some good gold, son, but not much water.”

  Samuel felt a little disappointed. He had wanted to run the pay streak.

  “Help me button up, and we’ll visit over dinner,” his father said. “Sure is good to see you again.”

  His father explained he had finished up at McLane’s and had tried running the Sweet Mary for a while.

  “We get our hopes up on this placer, run into some decent gold for a bit, and then it peters out, or like now, the water disappears,” Charles said.

  “Or it gets jumped,” Samuel said. “Speaking of which, I ran into Finney and Culler on the way back.”

  Charles stopped short.

  “Luckily, Max Barnhart came along about then, and I rode with him and a couple other fellows coming back to Warren’s.”

  Samuel saw concern in his father’s eyes.

  “Pa, it was Finney and Culler that hit us on the river last winter. Finney calls me ‘the Chambers boy.’ I recognized his voice and Culler’s voice this time. It was them, all right.”

  Charles lowered his plate. “I know. I figured it was them, but I wasn’t completely sure. I told the sheriff they were my suspicion.”

  “He ought to round them up; we’d be better off.”

  “For sure,” his father agreed. “Do they know that you know?”

  “Yes. Mr. Barnhart asked if we had any suspicions of who hit us, so I said it was the same fellows that jumped the sluice boxes on the Secesh. I was with Finney and Culler when the sheriff said he suspected them of the sluice break-ins on the Secesh. So I figure they know.”

  “Maybe not the smartest thing to say.”

  “I had to know, Pa. At least I know who to watch for.”

  “I’m going to the sheriff, son. With what you said, we might be able to get an arrest. At least Sinclair needs to know they’re back in the country.”

  Samuel nodded. He would need to keep the pistol handy. Maybe he should practice a bit more.

  “So while you were in Slate Creek, was there any interest in the mine?”

  Samuel informed him of Clark’s decision to not make an offer but also of Williams’s possible intentions to visit.

  “Figures Clark would get cold feet, but Williams’s interest might be good. And now that we have someone coming up to visit the O’Riley, I think our marching orders are clear. We need to quit fooling around down here and get the O’Riley looking as good as we can so we can sell her, even if we don’t have a mill. What do you think?”

  “I reckon, Pa.”

  They sat for a moment.

  “Now, son, I’m not one to pry, but I haven’t heard you say one thing about the Strombacks. You did go out to visit them, didn’t you?”

  “I visited them. They are doing well. They said to tell you hello.”

  “And … ”

  Samuel gazed out toward the timbered mountains. “It didn’t work, Pa. She’s courtin’ Rex.”

  “Rex?” Charles almost choked and then shook his head. “Guess I know the answer to that one. He’s there and you’re here, right?”

  Samuel nodded.

  “I’m sorry, son. I thought you might have been thinking of taking her to Iowa. She seemed to be a mighty fine gal.”

  “She still is, Pa.”

  His father was silent a moment. “Times like this I wish I kept a bottle of whiskey around.”

  “I can manage,” Samuel said.

  “Not for you, son. For me.”

  HARDROCK MINING

  Chapter 33

  SAMUEL NOW LOOKED FORWARD to returning to the O’Riley. The Sweet Mary was not the dream come true that they had envisioned, but it had helped bring in a few dollars for the O’Riley. They headed to town.

  “Besides taking care of the amalgam, do we need anything else, Pa?”

  “Let’s see what our yield is first,” Charles said. “We’ll be back tomorrow getting tools and supplies we’ll need for the O’Riley. I don’t think I’ll get back from the Hic Jacet until late, so you can plan on meeting me back at the cabin. You can start packing if I’m not there.”

  “They said that Mr. Bradshaw’s mill was on the trail, you know.”

  “I do, but I also know how people change their minds. The Hic Jacet has been running the Rescue ore, and now that the Rescue is shut down, they might be able to accommodate us, rather than us waiting for Bradshaw’s mill. And you don’t know the problems Mr. Bradshaw’s likely to have trying to put up that new mill.”

  Samuel nodded. He did know. It seemed as much as any mill in Warren’s camp operated, it was also down.

  As Samuel guessed, Hinley had other work to do rather than retort some amalgam, but he allowed Samuel to proceed on his own.

  “If you should have any questions, just come in and fetch me,” Hinley instructed.

  “Thanks,” Samuel answered. “I should be okay.” He walked around behind the assay office to where the retort kiln was located. He placed the amalgam into the retort chamber, packed the furnace with charcoal, and ignited it. He checked the tubing and the collecting flask.

  He reentered the assay shop. “Got the fire going.”

  “Wonderful. Now if you would like to assist me while you are waiting, I would be obliged.”

  Samuel found an ore sample awaiting him next to the mulling plate and began rolling the muller over the quartz chunks, pulverizing them.

  “You should know that the Celestials have discovered a cinnabar deposit,” Hinley said, as he marked crucibles and set them in a holder.

  “They did? Anywhere near here?” Samuel knew part of the reason mercury was expensive was that it came from only a few mines, most in California. The production was controlled and freight was expensive.

  “Aye, leave it to the Celestials. They found good ore somewhere near Ruby Meadows.”

  Samuel shook his head. “They’ll make a fortune. They’ll have a market here and at every other camp in the territory.”

  “And they know it.” Hinley straightened. “Lend me a hand as I pour these, will you?”

  Samuel monitored the furnace while Hinley removed a crucible and poured the smoky orange liquid into a buttonmold.

  “I hear they built some ovens and are retorting the ore on the spot. They just packed out their first seventy-pound flask.” After pouring the last crucible, Hinley dusted his hands and positioned another four.

  “The Celestials are managing to keep the exact source quiet, and since they cannot file a mining claim, it is a safe wager that they do not have one. Nevertheless, knowing the Chinese, they will not hesitate to protect their newfound treasure.”

  Samuel wondered if Chen knew about the mine. Somewhere near Ruby Meadows. He had no idea what cinnabar looked like. As much time as he had spent in the area, he could have walked right over it, not realizing the fortune underfoot. Seventy pounds of mercury could sell for over two hundred dollars. Processing it would be as simple as what he was doing in the kiln out back.

  “Makes me realize I better go check my amalgam.”

  “Aye, you should.”

  Samuel found the kiln was sufficiently cool. Even so, he was cautious about being near any lingering mercury vapors. Using long tongs, he removed the crucible and carried it back to the shop.

  Hinley took a quick look. “It appears you have a fair amount of gold. We shall proceed in treating it.”

  “Part it with nitric?”

  “No, nitric shall not be sufficient.” Hinley reached for a flask and unstoppered it. “This is aqua regia, a mixture of nitric and hydrochloric acid.” He transferred the retort sponge to a flask and carefully poured in the aqua regia. “This may take a couple of hours, but it completely dissolves the metal into a solution that I later treat to recover the gold and silver.”

  “Is it something you can teach me?”

  Hinley laughed
. “I say again, lad, if you want to remain here in Washington, I should be happy to have your assistance.”

  “I’ve thought of that.”

  “I know, we have discussed it,” Hinley agreed. “That shall be your decision, of course.”

  Samuel returned to mulling the ore. Something inside him told him it would be a good living. Although he loved the chase and the hunt for gold, this was good work, but he also wondered about the camp’s future. The placers were nearly done. The quartz mines were struggling.

  “Things may be looking up for our camp,” Hinley said.

  “I could use some good news,” Samuel replied. He wondered if Hinley had read his mind.

  “John Crooks is in town. He is the receiver for the Pioneer Mill. That should be settled soon, and that mill shall be operating again soon. The judge shall be here at the end of the month, and I expect soon after, the Rescue will be back operating along with its old crew. The Charity, Sampson, Hic Jacet, and other quartz mines are going strong. And, as you know, Mr. Bradshaw is getting his mill in for the Summit and Keystone lodes.” Hinley eyed Samuel. “I believe those are good signs the quartz mines will be producing for a long while. Warren’s camp still has a bright future.”

  Samuel grinned. “You forgot the O’Riley. That should be coming on line.”

  “I hope that shall happen, Samuel,” Hinley said. “There are some other good signs as well. Many of the longtime miners are relocating on the rivers. You shall recall Salon Hall and his family, James Rains and his brothers, and Sylvester Smith—they all have twenty to thirty acres on their ranches on the South Fork under cultivation. We shall soon have all the good produce we need, other than depending on the Celestials’ vegetables. And you are personally aware that Miller’s camp is doing quite well, mainly because it has better water. You should consider prospecting for a new placer yourself in that direction.”

  Samuel felt a surge. That was the second person suggesting he prospect that area. He wished that he could strike a good placer—one with water.

  A commotion outside in the street caught his attention. A Chinese pack train was coming in.