Salmon River Kid

by Joseph Dorris

  “Believe me, Samuel—that you don’t want,” Art said.

  “No, sir, you sure don’t.” Sears stood. “I’m going to get you a bandage and bind these up, just in case. I’ll want you to leave it in place for a couple of days, and if your ribs don’t feel better, come back and see me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “At least I see you’ve managed to put some meat on those bones. You’re about one of the best fit human specimens I’ve seen in some time.”

  “That’s from drilling and blasting.”

  Sears harrumphed. “That’ll do it for you faster than anything I know.” Sears eyed him. “Now if you don’t want mushrooms taking root under those bandages when I put them on, I’d recommend you take a good washing.” He turned to Ma Reynolds. “Would that be workable?”

  “Certainly. I’ll get Mr. Reynolds to bring in a tub.” Ma Reynolds left.

  Samuel began to panic. He remembered the last bath. He was too embarrassed to say anything but just hoped Ma Reynolds would not be too much of a help.

  Art said, “Well, I reckon you’re going to be all right, Samuel. I best be heading down the trail. You take care if I don’t see you again.”

  “Uh, Art,” Samuel said, “maybe you should get word to my pa. He’s expecting me back with the drill steel this morning. We were fixin’ to do some blasting.”

  “I suppose I can do that. Better give me directions.”

  Samuel explained. In his current shape, he didn’t care to see his father, but his father needed some explaining, or he would be out looking for him.

  Peter Reynolds dragged in the tub and began filling it.

  “All set for you, Samuel.” He left a towel. “Leave your clothes outside the door. My missus will get those washed for you while you’re bathing. Need any help?”

  “I’ll be fine, thanks.” It was not like before when he had no use of his hands.

  Soon he had undressed and was sitting in the hot, steaming water. A bucket of hot water with a dipper was within reach. He began soaping and washing, enjoying the warmth, feeling better already.

  He heard a soft knock. “Sure you don’t need some help, Samuel?”

  Samuel flushed with embarrassment. Ma Reynolds. He gulped. “No,” he almost shouted.

  “Won’t be a problem, young’un.” Disappointment touched her voice.

  Samuel felt bad. She was just trying to be a mother. He knew it. “Maybe a little. Maybe my hair.”

  She came bustling in, looking proud and happy, and reached for the dipper.

  What is it with these women? Samuel wondered.

  “Now, I won’t notice anything,” she said as she scooped up water to wet his hair.

  Samuel grimaced. Of course she would. There was hardly enough water to cover his toes.

  She began lathering. Samuel forgot his embarrassment. He was in heaven. If this was what it would be like to be married, to be fussed over, he was all for it, but those thoughts sent another kind of pain through him. He was here with busted ribs because of a woman.

  George came in and stood at the edge of the tub watching. “I wanna bath.”

  “Lord sakes, you get more baths than what’s good for you, George. Now go on and help your pa.”

  “I wanna be with Sam.”

  “It’s okay. George can stay.” Samuel liked having George around. It was like having a younger brother. He wished he did. He thought of his sister.

  “You ready for some rinsing?”

  Samuel nodded and felt the warmth of the water running about his head and shoulders. Nothing was ever this good.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She left; George stayed behind. Samuel dried off and sat with the towel, awaiting his clothes and Dr. Sears. He and George talked. The youngster had a lot of questions.

  “Bad men come back?” He wanted to know.

  How could he explain Rex? He remembered Finney and Culler. “You might say. They’re in jail.”

  “They are?” His eyes went big. “Are they gonna get hanged?”

  Samuel considered it. He doubted it. “It depends on who the judge believes.” And it depends on whether or not they stay in jail, he thought. He gulped. He would soon have to testify against them.

  The clothes came first, still warm from the iron. He dressed except for his shirt.

  Finally, and much later than expected, Dr. Sears arrived. He prodded his ribs again, still muttering, still uncertain. He unraveled a long bandage and wrapped him solidly, creating a momentary pain, but the constriction from the wrap felt oddly comforting.

  “Just in case, I wouldn’t go swinging a hammer or lifting too much for a while.”

  Samuel knew that wouldn’t work. “What if I do?”

  “You’d be a fool, as most men are, lad, but it probably won’t damage things. You just won’t heal up as fast as you should.”

  Samuel began putting on his shirt. He was ready to leave this place; ready to get back to mining. He heard his father greeting Peter Reynolds and felt frustrated. He had hoped his father would not see him this way.

  “Can’t keep yourself out of trouble, I see,” his father said matter-of-factly as he came into the room.

  “I’m sorry, Pa.” Samuel felt like a little boy again.

  “It could have been worse. At least you’re alive.”

  “Rex did his best to make sure I wasn’t going to be.”

  “The way I heard it, you had every intention of making sure he wasn’t going to be.”

  “Probably so.”

  “And rightfully so,” Charles said, “but you said about the worst thing you possibly could have to him.”

  Samuel looked up. “You defending him?” Samuel felt confused. A man just didn’t do what Rex had done—not when he was spoken for.

  “I ain’t defending Rex in the least, Samuel. He went way too far, but you called him out is what you did. I don’t disagree with you doin’ that, but you might have picked a better way.”

  “I couldn’t see a better way, Pa.”

  “Looks like you couldn’t see at all.” He was silent a moment. “I know we talked about how powerful feelings between a man and woman can be. Hate feelings are worse. They can overcome a man if he isn’t careful. You were right, but you could have ended up dead mixing it up with a man like Rex. Being right wouldn’t have mattered.”

  Samuel shivered. He remembered the blinding rage that had overcome him. What Rex had done was pure wrong. But something nagged him, and he felt shame. He and Lilly had come mighty close. He tried to tell himself that it was okay. He had walked away from Lilly because of Bonnie, but that had made no sense. Despite what he told Bonnie about having time—that things could change—he knew it was not true. What would it have mattered between Lilly and him?

  “I did get some good news,” Charles said. “Finney and Culler are staying put until the judge gets here.”

  Samuel felt a weight lift. “What happened?”

  “Alan Parsons and Brad Jessips got word they were in jail and identified them as the men they saw when their box was broken into on the Secesh.”

  “Did they catch them breaking in?” Samuel could already see a problem.

  “Enough that the sheriff said they’d have to sit in jail until the judge gets it all sorted out. That didn’t set too well with them. They wouldn’t be in jail except for us, you realize.”

  That was exactly what Samuel was thinking.

  “So we’re staying at least for the hearing?”

  “I reckon for the hearing.”

  Samuel nodded.

  Charles glanced around. “Since I’m here, wouldn’t mind taking a bath and having some chow myself.”

  “You’d best be careful. Ma Reynolds might insist on helping.”

  Charles laughed. “I take it she gave you a hand.”
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br />   Samuel nodded. “I couldn’t lift my arm very much.”

  “Well, it’s instinctive for women, you know. She took care of you before. You mean a lot to her.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful, but I’m not a little boy anymore.”

  “No, I reckon you’re not.” His father grinned. “I admit, it sure will be good to get home. Not having the comfort of a woman can tear a man apart. We’ve been gone over a year now, son.”

  “I know.” Samuel was not sure he wanted to hear what his father was confessing.

  “Most of the men in this camp aren’t married, and there aren’t many prospects for them. They have nothing they can look forward to except some occasional comfort from a dancehall lady. But you do. You’re young. You’ll find another Bonnie.”

  “I sure hope so, Pa.”

  “But you gotta watch yourself, son. Blind anger can get you killed.”

  Samuel considered his father’s words.

  Art stuck his head in. “Looks like your pa found you okay.”

  “Yep. Thanks, Art. Thanks for everything. And when you get back, give my regards to everyone. Don’t know if I can make it by to say good-bye. I’ll try.” Samuel knew he didn’t want to ever be around Rex again. It was over now. It was Bonnie’s choice.

  His father declined to take a bath, but they had a meal together, and then he prepared to head back to the O’Riley.

  “No sense in you coming out until tomorrow, son. I can finish drilling and set the charges. I doubt you can swing a hammer anyway.”

  “I can come with you. I feel okay.”

  “Well, you don’t look okay. Get another night of rest. Maybe go by Alexander’s and pick up some more grub. We’ll probably be hauling ore for a few more days.”

  Samuel said farewell to his father. He didn’t know if he had paid Ma Reynolds or not.

  “I think I’ll head to our cabin,” he told her. He felt all right with the bandage tightly holding his ribs.

  “Now, young’un, you should stay the night. I heard your pa talking with you.”

  “I’ll be back later.” Samuel wondered how much else she had heard.

  He changed course and headed for Alexander’s intending to get the grub his father wanted.

  He saw Chen leading his mule, heading out on a sales trip. He tried to avoid him, but Chen spotted him and hollered a greeting. When he got close, Chen’s dark eyes shot up.

  Samuel knew his purple eye and cut nose had to be startling.

  “Next time pick on someone your own size,” Chen chided.

  “Worst of it is, Chen, I didn’t even get to land a punch.”

  “What is it all about?”

  “A girl,” Samuel sputtered. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

  “Romeo and Yuliet?” Chen grinned.

  “No. Cain and Abel,” Samuel snapped. “I said I wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “Cain and Abow in Bible. They were brothers, not lovers.”

  Samuel threw up his hands. “You know what, Chen?” He stared at him. “You’re getting too dang smart for your own good.”

  “I try.” He smiled.

  Chen talked to him about another selling trip. “Go in two days.”

  “Sorry, Chen, we’re still trying to bring ore out of the O’Riley to get it milled. We might be finished later this week.”

  Chen shook his head. “Going to be a good one, Sam.” He grinned. “Lots of vegebows. Make lots of money.”

  Samuel thought a moment. At best, the hearing would be early next month. He guessed they would need more money than what they would get from their ore, and now he had another doctor’s bill to pay. “Maybe later.”

  “Sure, Sam.”

  Samuel was not certain he wanted to visit Scott.

  “Howdy, Scott,” Samuel said after he entered the store. Scott was in the back, pipe clenched in his teeth, studying a newspaper. No one else was in the store.

  Scott glanced up and continued to stare. “What in blazes—”

  “You mean this?” Samuel filled in the blanks. “You got to be the only one in town who didn’t see me get laid out in the street last night.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know. You look like you been mule kicked and snake bit at the same time.” He kept staring. “Hope the other guy looks as bad.”

  “Nope, I didn’t even get to land a punch.” Samuel shook his head. “Rather not talk about it today, Scott. Maybe when it quits snowing.”

  Instinctively, Scott glanced out the window—clear blue sky. “Okay, I guess we can talk about women in a moment.”

  “I’m done with them.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Samuel shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t.”

  Silently, Scott smoked his pipe, letting out a long puff.

  “I need to pick up some grub to last us a couple more days.”

  Samuel wandered about the store, picking up a few onions, some potatoes, some dried meat, and some dried fruit. “Do we still have credit?”

  Scott still didn’t say anything. He just tallied up the items and put the numbers into his ledger.

  “How’s the mining coming?” he asked.

  “We’re about done. We’re running what we got at Bradshaw’s mill in a couple days.”

  “That’s good news.”

  Samuel was certain Scott was wondering if he would ever get paid.

  “It can’t be Miss Lilly—she’s gone. Must be that gal at Slate Creek,” Scott finally said.

  “I said I wasn’t talking about it.”

  Scott poured a cup of coffee. “Maybe you’d like something stronger?”

  Samuel shook his head, but he soon found himself sitting on the stool, having a cup of coffee and talking about Bonnie with Scott listening.

  Much later, not having any other answers, but feeling somewhat better, he returned to Ma Reynolds’s. He slept less troubled than he had in weeks, although his ribs bothered him.

  Chapter 40

  SAMUEL FELT BETTER in the morning but looked worse. His bruises were darker purple, and his eye was still nearly swollen shut. The constriction bandage helped his ribs feel more normal.

  After breakfast, he headed out toward the O’Riley, anxious to get back to work. He still might not be able to swing a hammer, but his father should be ready to blast. At least he could haul ore. They should be doing the test run today, and he wanted to see it.

  He heard the explosions from down the valley before he reached the O’Riley.

  “Sorry, son, I couldn’t wait.”

  “I’m the one sorry, Pa. I like seeing stuff being blown up.”

  He jumped down into the pit to examine the exposed ore, feeling his side pain him when he did so. The vein was looking good.

  It was now a good drop to the bottom. When they were finished mucking, it would be over eight feet deep. The vein showed strongly across the floor. Despite what O’Shaughnessy had said, it was getting wider and now measured fifteen inches across. Samuel washed it clean, exposing a stringer of gray metallic specks. If it carried gold, it would be even richer than the assays.

  He began helping his father sack ore. An angry pain caused him to catch his breath, but he struggled on, reminding himself that he wouldn’t worsen the injury. He tried to haul one of the bags but stopped short in agony. His father noticed and took over the loading.

  “I’ll keep mucking this until you get back. I might put in another couple charges to break out some more on the vein. Maybe you’ll be back by then.”

  Samuel agreed. He could see that at this point, drilling into the vein and blasting might give them a few more pounds.

  Samuel was near the steepest section of their trail when he spotted Rex’s horse wandering, limping, on a narrow ridge across from the one he
was descending. His stomach turned and he felt his blood begin to boil. He checked the load of his rifle and put it across his pommel.

  “Maybe I’ll be lucky and find someone dry-gulched the bastard,” he muttered.

  Gently, he turned Spooky toward the horse, wondering what it was doing here in the opposite direction of the trail to the Salmon. Maybe Rex had stupidly thought he could go down the South Fork to reach the Salmon, taking a roundabout way back to Slate Creek.

  He reached the horse. It had been fresh ridden. Long gashes were raked across its rear flank. Samuel figured it must have been tree limbs. It was a good chance Rex had been knocked off somewhere.

  “I hope he broke his neck,” Samuel muttered.

  Samuel began retracing the tracks. He reached the edge of the ridge and, from the marks in the soil, could see where the horse had struggled. It reminded him eerily of his encounter with the rattlesnake when he had been thrown and injured last year.

  Though he felt Rex was near, he refrained from shouting. He left the packed animals and the trail and walked downward into the ravine. If Rex’s horse had slid down here, it was miraculous it had lived. He spotted flecks of blood on a rock. Could be the horse. He expected to find Rex’s body.

  The man was an almost unrecognizable lump wedged against the trunk of several downed trees. He was awake, watching Samuel.

  “You alive?” Samuel half expected him to pull his pistol and shoot him.

  Blood stained the boulders where Rex lay, holding his knife.

  At first Samuel thought he was going to use it on him when he drew near enough.

  “Put it away, Rex, or I’ll kill you.” Samuel raised his rifle.

  “N-no, Samuel. You gotta help me.”

  “Get me up close to where you can slit my throat?”

  “I-I was fixin’ to cut my leg free.”

  Samuel felt himself go weak, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “Good, I’ll leave you be, and you can get back to work sawing on it.”

  Rex glared at him. “You bastard.”

  Samuel could now see the man’s leg pinned under the log, the boulders firmly holding it in place. His hands were bloody from trying to wedge the boulders free.