Samuel pulled off the trail. They had seen no one since leaving the Ruby placer yesterday, and he didn’t want to accidentally run into anyone now.
“The Shearers are my friends. They’ll help us.”
Chen shook his head. “No. They might be your friends. They might not be Chinese friends.”
“I know them. They might ask me a lot of questions, but they’ll help us.”
“What about Morton with paper? He tell everyone the Chinese steal the gold.”
Samuel hesitated. “The Shearers will trust me.”
Chen appeared desperate. “I give my word. I tell no one; no one see me; no one help me. That was ohnee way to be safe.”
Samuel realized Chen had already broken his promise by allowing him to help. “I understand, Chen, but how do we get across the river?”
“We swim river.”
“We can’t chance swimming it with the cargo you have.”
“How we get across then, Sam?” Chen’s dark eyes were frantic.
“Either we trust the Shearers or we take the ferryboat after dark.”
“Not good, Sam,” Chen protested. “They know someone go across. Ferry on wrong side when they wake up. They come after us.”
“I know, Chen,” Samuel replied. “Come on, we’ll wait until night. We got to be less than a mile from the ferry.”
They moved farther off the trail, picketed the stock, and ate a cold dinner. Samuel tried to rest. It had been a long day.
A tiny sliver of a waxing moon shone near midnight. The ferryboat bobbed against the landing, a black shadow, hardly visible. A canopy of glimmering stars spread above the canyon walls and reflected, sparkling, from the black water.
Samuel gulped as he listened to the rushing water. He wondered if he dared wait until some daylight, but he knew his pursuers would not.
By feel more than by sight, Samuel directed Chen to help him lower the ramp. They led Spooky and the mule onto the boat. Samuel noticed the water as usual swamping across the decking.
Chen pointed. “It sink, Sam,” he whispered, frantically.
“No, Chen, it’s decked.”
Chen frowned.
“The two boats it rides on are covered over so they don’t sink.”
Chen still seemed upset.
“Trust me.”
Carefully, Samuel angled the ferry into the current. It shuddered and began slowly moving out. The dim light from the Shearers’ cabin grew smaller. The sliver of moon glinted from the rapidly moving water that gurgled about the bows of the two decked boats. Samuel had difficulty seeing how much to angle the ferry, and it slipped dangerously downstream. He adjusted the angle, and the current continued pushing them until they bumped into the landing.
In whispers, he had Chen tie him off. They let down the ramp, led the stock off, and then repositioned the ramp.
Samuel stripped off his clothes.
“What you do, Sam?” Chen stood dumfounded.
“I’m taking the ferry back,” he said. “It’s too dangerous to shinny across the wire. I’ll swim back.”
“In the dark?!” Chen exclaimed. “You drown, Sam. No.”
Samuel laughed softly. “I can do it, Chen.” He undid the line and jumped back onto the ferry, his heart in his throat. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he was not going to leave the ferry on the other side. First, it was not right to the Shearers, and second, they would know someone had crossed—and, likely, their pursuers would also find out.
Carefully, Samuel guided the boat back. The sliver of moon drifted behind clouds, and darkness enveloped him like a cave. He listened to the water and tried to determine how much remained for him to cross. He now had no way of knowing the angle to keep the bow. He could see only the sparkle from a few stars. He prayed he would not drift downstream and possibly snap the wire. He angled the bow more. He drifted for longer than it seemed he should, but the light in Shearers’ cabin slowly drew nearer. Suddenly the bow crunched hard into the landing, sending Samuel sprawling. The ferryboat was taut against the wire. Samuel leaped, hoping he would hit land and not water. He jammed his knee into his chest, knocking out his breath. He found the rope about the time the sliver of moonlight returned, tied the ferryboat, double-checked the knot, and waded back into the water, heart hammering. If I get out of this alive, he thought, I’ll pay a double toll when I get back.
He waded in to over his waist, the current trying to knock him off his feet. Another step and his foot slipped off the slick cobbles. He dunked under and came up sputtering, swimming, and feeling the current taking him downstream. Desperately he fought not to panic. The river was many feet deep and powerful and carried him rapidly downstream. Clammy fear began to seep through him. He knew there was whitewater not far downstream. He kept his head up, scanning the pitch-black for the far bank.
It dawned on him to angle his body similar to the ferryboat, to let the current help him swim. The noise of pounding rapids increased, and now he saw the white spray caught in the moonlight leaping angrily below. Desperately he tried not to think of the rapids. He swam, keeping his angle, letting the current push him.
His feet hit rocks. He continued swimming, afraid to stand—afraid the current could pin his foot between some boulders—until he reached calm water. The dark shape of the bank loomed above him. He pulled himself onto the boulders and crawled from the river. The current had swept him well over a hundred yards downstream. Carefully he picked his way back toward the landing.
“That you, Sam?” Chen hissed.
“It is.”
“You lucky, Sam. You very lucky.” Chen handed him his clothes.
Samuel brushed the water off the best he could before dressing. “Not something I’d want to do again, Chen. Maybe during the day.”
“I never want to do it, Sam. I can’t swim.”
“But we did it. We’re across. If Dudgin and Smith come this way, the Shearers won’t know we crossed. Morton can wave his paper all day at them, and they can’t accidentally give us away.”
They rode down the trail a distance. “We can spend the night in the cabin where my father and I stayed last winter. It’s about four miles. Tomorrow, we’ll go on. We shouldn’t run into anyone now.”
Chapter 46
BEFORE DAYLIGHT they left the cabin. Samuel rode ahead, scouted the trail for other riders, and then signaled for Chen to come up. In places this was impractical. The countryside was open with few places to hide.
The camp at Berg’s bar was idle, abandoned until winter. They passed the mouth of the Little Salmon River and turned north.
“We’re doing good, Chen. Now we go north to Lewiston,” Samuel said, at last feeling some relief.
“I am glad.” Chen smiled.
Nearing Groff’s ferry, they entered a wash, dipping down off the level and then back up. When they did, Samuel spotted three riders coming off the ferry trail, heading toward them.
“The worst possible place, Chen.” Frantically, he scanned for a place to hide, but the riders already hailed them. Samuel felt uneasy.
“What is wrong?” Chen demanded.
“Whoever these people are, they’re bound to run into Dudgin and Smith. Morton is going to be asking about us and any Chinese shipments. They won’t lie for us, and if Dudgin and Smith are close, we won’t be able to outrun them.”
Samuel waited for the three men. They exchanged greetings and talked for a moment. The men eyed Chen.
“He works for me,” Samuel explained. The men relaxed a bit and nodded.
“Ain’t never seen a Chinaman,” one of the men said.
“Where you heading?” Samuel asked. He didn’t say they were about to see a lot of Chinese.
“Headin’ into Miller’s camp. Know where that’s at?”
“I’ve been there.”
“Supposed to be some g
ood placer. You ever do any minin’, son?”
“Some.” Samuel was short. He had no time for visiting.
“So where’re y’all headin’?” One of the men finally asked.
“I do some packing and trading. I’m taking some things to Thomas Pollock. You should have passed his place on the way down the Little Salmon.”
“We shore did. Nice fella.”
“Yes, he is.” Samuel had never met him. “Well, I best be off. Have a good trip.”
They said farewell.
“Why you tell them that?” hissed Chen. “Really, really wrong way, Sam. We never get to Lewiston.”
“I told you, if we’re being followed, these men will be telling Morton everything there is to know about you. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way I know of throwing them off our trail.”
Samuel turned down toward the ferry. Chen had no option but to follow.
Reaching the landing, Samuel pulled his pistol and fired a shot. He didn’t mind that anyone would hear. The men would figure he was crossing. Additionally, Samuel didn’t want to chance waiting for the operator to notice them. That could take another hour.
When the ferryboat landed, Samuel didn’t recognize the operator. Samuel introduced himself but not Chen.
“Howdy, Mr. Chambers, I’m Jason Weston. I just got hired on by Mr. Groff.”
Samuel didn’t ask about Jesse, the previous operator, and he was careful to pay with coin, thankful now for the money Scott had given him. He didn’t want Weston believing he carried much gold.
Samuel noticed him eyeing Chen. “This Chinese works for me and my pa,” he explained, sticking to the story he had told the three riders. “We’re going up the Little Salmon, delivering some goods to Mr. Pollock.”
Samuel felt unsettled with the hard look Weston gave Chen’s packs as well as his.
“A feller by the name of Morton was by a couple days ago,” he finally blurted. “Said to be on the lookout for some Chinese carrying out some stolen gold.”
“I know Ben Morton.” Samuel laughed. “You think we stole gold? You think I’m that stupid?” He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out the pair of new gloves. “See for yourself.” He said it unkindly, but that seemed to placate the man.
“Sorry, Mr. Chambers, I didn’t expect you’d know Mr. Pollock,” he replied. “And it’s not usual to see a white man and a Chinaman traveling together.”
Samuel glanced at Chen and pretended to say something in Cantonese. It was gibberish. Chen bowed and replied something in Cantonese.
On the trail, Samuel apologized. “No offense, Chen. I had to think of something.”
“That is okay. I tell him you a big lying foreign devil,” Chen replied, grinning. “No offense.”
Now on the south side of the Salmon, they backtracked to the confluence of the Little Salmon and turned up the trail. Samuel felt frustrated. He was uncertain how he would cross back to the Lewiston trail. He did not look forward to stealing Groff’s ferry or going for another swim in the middle of the night.
They moved up the trail, but before moving out of sight, Samuel studied his back trail. Three riders were rounding the bend, heading in the direction of Groff’s. His uneasy feeling had been right. He hissed to Chen. Luckily, they were already in dense cottonwoods and willows.
“It’s them, all right,” Samuel said. “For sure, they’ve got us figured out.” Samuel’s chest tightened. They had probably followed them over Elk Creek. They were better trackers than he had given them credit.
Chen was deathly silent.
“I figured they’d be onto us sooner or later. This works out good for us,” Samuel said, trying to sound confident. “We’ll say hello to Mr. Pollock and double back on them.”
“They catch us, first, Sam.”
“Nope,” Samuel replied. “This trail is in thick brush and trees. I know it. Me and my pa came in this way.” He clucked to Spooky, turning him back onto the trail. “Walk your mule, normal, Chen. If they see signs we’re running, they’ll know we spotted them. Right now they’re about five miles behind us. They’ll probably take the ferry, so I figure we got shy of an hour.”
Desperately, Samuel wanted to run Spooky, but he held him in check. He hoped Pollock’s ranch was near. They would not make it much farther before being spotted.
Finally, he smelled wood smoke and spotted the makings of a cabin in a clearing near an incoming stream. Rapid River he remembered it being called. No one was here last year; now a man worked on a fence.
Samuel introduced himself. “I’m guessing you’re Mr. Pollock. You know Mr. Stromback.”
The man greeted warmly, “I am, and indeed, I do know Jon Stromback.” He leaned the ax against the fence and they shook hands. “How come you know Jon?”
“I worked for him a bit.” Samuel noticed Pollock eyeing Chen.
“The Chinese is working for me and my pa, Mr. Pollock. My pa’s back in Warren’s wrapping up some work. He’ll be along in a few days.” Samuel did not care to be lying. “Might say we’re doing like you’ve done. Mr. Stromback told us about a couple ranching spots up this way.”
“Stromback is why I’m here,” Pollock replied. “It would be good to have neighbors.” He pointed upstream. “Several good areas on some tributaries coming in. Take your time and look them over good, then come on back and have some dinner.”
“Much obliged,” Samuel replied. “We’ll need to pass on the dinner. I figure on going all the way to Salmon Meadows and look around up there as well.” Samuel wanted to visit longer but knew his pursuers would be closing in.
“That is good land as well,” Pollock said, “but you might have trouble with the Indians up that far.”
“I’ve heard. Also heard there’s a new route into Fort Boise through the meadows. You know about it?”
“There is,” Pollock continued. “You continue through the meadows about eight miles past the hot springs and head east until you reach a little creek called Goose Creek. Packer John’s cabin’s near there. From there, it’s about eight miles over the top into Payette Valley. The trail goes south through Payette Valley all the way to Fort Boise.” Pollock eyed Samuel. “You ain’t thinking of trying it? Got to be close to 150 miles.”
“It’s closer than going through Walla Walla,” Samuel replied, having frequently heard the grumbling from the miners up in Warren’s.
“True,” Pollock replied. “I expect this will become the main route soon enough. Either this route, or drop over into the Weiser River and down.”
“Thanks, Mr. Pollock.” Samuel turned Spooky up the trail. “We’ll try to drop by on our way back.”
Samuel was thankful Pollock did not ask any further questions. He spurred Spooky and headed south up the Little Salmon. When they rounded the next corner, he cut into the river at a riffle and forded to the other side. Chen followed.
“They got to be close, Chen,” Samuel whispered. “They might be talking to Pollock this very minute. Pray this works.”
Samuel doubled back, leading the way along the opposite shore, keeping to the timber. He knew they would eventually run into cliffs and need to cross back before reaching them. At that point, he intended to hide and wait until night, and then he would attempt crossing the main Salmon. He had been thinking how to convince Chen to break the gold into two loads so they could swim the river. He did not intend to steal another ferry.
Samuel found what appeared to be a shallow area and eased Spooky into the Little Salmon to cross. The water came up deeper than he expected. The current pushed hard against them. He nudged Spooky onward. “You can do it, Spook.” The animal surged forward, found footing, and climbed out, water streaming off him.
He glanced back at Chen. The mule was in trouble. It appeared to be swimming.
“Hang on to her, Chen,” Samuel hollered.
The animal headed downstr
eam. He prayed it would not roll like Molly had done in a similar spot the previous spring. It would likely lose its load. Samuel eased Spooky back toward the river, loosening his rope.
The mule wedged against a boulder, frantically thrashing as the water pinned her. Chen desperately held on.
“Here’s a rope,” Samuel hollered and tossed it. “Snub it on your saddle.”
Chen ran it through the saddle grip and around himself. Samuel turned Spooky up the bank. The mule righted herself and, fighting, surged against the water. Samuel feared both Chen and the packs would be ripped loose. The animal lurched out of the water, found footing on the bank, and lunged to get up it. Then, she went down, her foreleg buckling, throwing Chen. Samuel felt sick. The animal struggled up, limping.
“Hold her, Chen,” Samuel instructed. “Keep her steady.”
He reached the mule and began stripping off the packs, taking off her load. Without thought, he strapped the packs onto Spooky, surprised at how heavy they actually were. An icy fear seized him. They would now have to walk. With luck, their pursuers were still riding upstream and had missed where they had turned off the trail to cross the river.
“We don’t have much time, Chen,” Samuel said. “We need to find a good place to hide until night.”
Chen stared at him. “Mule is hurt. We are in big trouble.” His dark eyes flashed.
Samuel tried to reassure him. “We can do it if we get a hiding place. If we can get back across the Salmon, maybe they won’t figure we doubled back. Maybe they’ll go all the way to Fort Boise.” But Samuel doubted it. He knew it would not take long for the men to figure out that he had left the trail. Darkness was their only chance. He would have no choice but to repeat what he had done at Shearers’ ferry.
“Mule can’t carry me.”
“No, we’ll have to walk for now. Spooky can carry the packs.”
Chen appeared frantic. “They catch us before night.”
Samuel studied the sky. He figured they had two hours until dark. He remembered the Chinese stone hut on this side of the river, several miles downstream.
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