The Great Brain Is Back

by John D. Fitzgerald

  “Lake trout feed near the banks,” Tom said. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch plenty of fish.”

  We arrived on top of the mountain in the late afternoon. There was a road all right, but it was overgrown because it hadn’t been traveled since winter.

  Sweyn rode up beside us. “The lake could be a good distance away,” he said. “Maybe we should make camp here.”

  “It can’t be far,” Tom said. “I believe this is the way to Blue Lake.”

  After we’d ridden another hour, Tom pulled up the team. “Look at those trees,” he said, pointing. “The lake must be over there.”

  Tom was right. We arrived at Blue Lake at sunset. We hobbled the horses and turned them loose to graze and drink from the lake. Then we pitched our tent. We built a camp fire; then Tom heated four cans of pork and beans in a frying pan.

  “Too late to make biscuits,” he said. “We’ll eat canned goods now and fish for breakfast.”

  Frankie shook his head stubbornly. “I want sourdough biscuits now,” he said.

  “Well, you’re not going to get them,” Tom said.

  It began to get cold after we ate. I was glad Mamma had insisted we take plenty of blankets. We wrapped ourselves up in them and sat around the camp fire.

  “We’ll hit the hay early,” Tom said, “and get up early to catch fish for breakfast.”

  I had a hard time going to sleep that night. I could hear the wind rustling in the trees and coyotes and wolves howling. The ground seemed hard after my nice feather mattress at home. But finally I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, Tom and Sweyn were gone. I woke Frankie and we dressed, then went outside the tent. I could see Tom and Sweyn fishing along the banks of the lake.

  Blue Lake’s water was as blue as the sky overhead. It was a big lake too. I judged it about a half-mile wide and a mile long. I got my fishing pole, and Frankie got his. We walked down to where Tom was.

  As we arrived, Tom landed a beauty of a lake trout. He removed the hook, then took the tree branch he’d trimmed into a Y shape from the lake water. He added the trout he’d just caught to the four fish already strung onto the stick.

  “Hey, S.D.,” he shouted. “How many fish have you caught?”

  “Four nice big ones,” Sweyn hollered back.

  “That’s plenty,” Tom shouted. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”

  Sweyn cleaned the fish while Tom kneaded sourdough. The dough got its name from the fermented dough prospectors carried to use as a leaven in biscuits. Because of this, prospectors were often called sourdoughs.

  After Tom shaped the dough, he put the biscuits into our Dutch oven to cook. He greased a big frying pan with bacon, then rolled four trout in flour and put them on to fry. Sweyn fixed the coffee.

  While we ate fried fish and biscuits, Tom fried up some potatoes, then the rest of the fish. We must have been hungry, because we ate everything, even all the sourdough biscuits. Afterward, Frankie and I washed our tin plates, cups, knives, and forks in the lake.

  Sweyn got the shotgun from the tent. “I’m not going to eat fish for five days,” he told us. “I’ll see if I can get us some rabbits for lunch.”

  Frankie and I stayed at the camp, fishing along the banks with Tom. Blue Lake was plumb full of trout. I could see them jumping to catch insects. In no time at all we had caught more than we needed. Tom put them on his Y stick and left them in the water.

  During the time we were fishing, I heard Sweyn fire the shotgun three times. When the sun was almost directly overhead, he came down from the mountain. He was holding two rabbits.

  “I missed one,” he said, “but two are enough. I’ll clean them.”

  We had fried rabbit and potatoes for lunch, then washed the dishes and went exploring around the lake. There were plenty of squirrels in the trees, but we didn’t shoot any, as none of us cared for squirrel meat. There were plenty of birds, mostly jays that perched in the cedar trees. Then we returned to camp and went swimming until it was time to get supper.

  “How about some trout and beans with sourdough biscuits?” Tom asked.

  “Suits me,” I told him.

  “As long as there are biscuits,” Frankie said.

  “I’m hungry enough to eat the bean can,” Sweyn said.

  We were sitting around the camp fire after supper when three men rode into our camp leading a packhorse. They looked as if they had ridden a long way. The leader of the three was a big man with a red beard.

  “Fix us some supper, boy,” he told Sweyn when they’d dismounted.

  “I’m not your boy,” Sweyn said, “and I don’t remember asking you to supper.”

  The big man walked over to Sweyn. He hit my brother hard along one side of his jaw. Sweyn went tumbling backward, then sat up, holding his face in both hands.

  “That’ll teach you not to talk back to Red Wade,” he said.

  “Leave him alone,” Tom said. “I’ll fix you some supper. Are bacon with beans and sourdough biscuits all right?”

  “You got any spuds?” Red Wade asked.

  “Yes,” Tom said.

  “Then fry some up,” Red Wade said. “I fancy a mess of potatoes tonight, but I warn you. Tomorrow morning I want fish for breakfast. We ain’t had nothing but beans to eat for two days.”

  While Tom was preparing the meal, Frankie walked over to Red Wade. “Are you men outlaws?” he asked.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” the big man said.

  “Because you’re mean,” Frankie said. “You hit my brother.”

  “And that makes us outlaws.” Red Wade laughed a sort of dirty laugh.

  Tom looked up from the frying pan over the camp fire. “What are you doing in this part of the country?” he asked. “You don’t have any fishing gear, so I know you didn’t come up here to fish.”

  “Nosey kid, aren’t you?” Wade said. “But just so you don’t try anything foolish, I’ll tell you we held up the mine payroll at Castle Rock. We had to kill a man to do it.”

  One of the outlaws, with such a thin face his cheekbones stuck out, spoke up. “Why are you telling these kids our business?”

  “Simmer down, Bill,” Wade said. “These kids aren’t going anyplace and neither are we for a while. I reckon as how this is a good place to rest up our horses for a day.”

  The other outlaw had mean, squinty-looking eyes. He rolled a chew of tobacco into his jaw. “Gotta give you credit, Red,” he said. “Staying away from the road and going over the mountain was a good idea.”

  Wade grinned. “That posse is lookin’ for us in the flatlands and desert. Fooled ’em completely, Jake.”

  “How long do you reckon it’ll take us to get to Arizona?” Jake asked.

  “Don’t rightly know,” Wade said. “I never been in this part of the country before. But if we keep heading south, we’ll run into Arizona. We can pull a few jobs there to fatten our roll on the way to Mexico.”

  That was when I first started to feel frightened. The outlaws couldn’t leave us if we knew where they were headed. I had a feeling in my bones that they were going to kill us.

  Tom finished cooking the supper. We watched the outlaws eat it. Then we washed the dishes. When we went back to the camp fire, Wade was smoking a cigar.

  “I told you if you stuck with me, you’d be in clover,” he said to the other men. “Better than a thousand apiece in that mine payroll. A couple jobs in Arizona and we’ll be on easy street when we hit Mexico.”

  Jake, who had the mean eyes, shook his head. “I don’t like you talking so much in front of these kids,” he said.

  “I told you not to worry about them,” Wade said. “You take first watch, Jake, until midnight. Bill, take the second, and I’ll take the last. I know they are only kids, but they might try something foolish.” He looked at Sweyn. “You kids better turn in now.”

&n
bsp; Sweyn didn’t give him any back talk this time. He was still nursing his jaw and hadn’t said a word after the outlaw hit him.

  I had a hard time going to sleep that night, although Tom, Sweyn, and Frankie didn’t. I couldn’t understand how Tom could sleep at all. With his great brain he must have known the outlaws would kill us. That way we couldn’t tell the sheriff which way they had gone.

  The next morning Sweyn had a big bruise covering the whole left side of his face. He didn’t talk much and he hardly ate any breakfast. What he did eat, he chewed very slowly.

  Between Tom, Sweyn, Frankie, and me, we had caught enough fish for all of us for breakfast. After eating, Red Wade rubbed his stomach.

  “You kids put out good grub,” he said. “What in the way of food do you have with you?”

  “Bacon, potatoes, hard tack, cans of pork and beans, sourdough and flour, canned milk, and coffee,” Sweyn said.

  “We’ll be taking that with us when we leave,” Wade told us with a curt nod.

  “It’s enough to take you well into Arizona,” Tom said. He took his compass from his pocket and looked at it. Then he pointed. “That second peak toward the right is due south.”

  “Gimme that.” Wade grabbed the compass. “We might get a cloudy day and not have sun to guide us.” He stuffed the compass into his pants pocket.

  I had a hard time waiting until we were away from the outlaws so I could tell Tom my fears. “I know Red Wade plans to kill us,” I said as we were washing the breakfast dishes. “Aren’t you worried?”

  “My great brain is working on it,” was all he said.

  That was the longest day of my life. We fished until we had plenty of fish for lunch. Then Jake took our shotgun and some shells. He went hunting and killed some rabbits. When he returned to camp, he gave the rabbits to Tom to prepare for supper.

  While Sweyn helped Tom clean the rabbits, they talked in low voices. It was clear that they were both worried, Sweyn worse than Tom. “I figure we have about twelve hours,” he said. “We wouldn’t be in this fix if we’d stayed in Beaver Canyon the way we were supposed to.”

  “My great brain got us into this, and my great brain will get us out,” Tom said.

  “I hope so,” Sweyn answered. “I hate the thought of Mamma being told all her sons are goners at the same time.”

  When I thought of Mamma, my eyes started to get teary. I walked over to the camp fire, so I could pretend there was smoke in them.

  The fried rabbit, potatoes, beans, and sourdough biscuits tasted good, but I wasn’t hungry. I kept feeling that it was the last supper I’d ever eat. I didn’t feel any better after the meal, when the outlaws discussed their plans.

  Red Wade lit a cigar. “Reckon the horses are rested,” he said. “We’ll pull out first thing in the morning.”

  Jake squinted his mean little eyes at Sweyn, then Tom, then Frankie and me. “What about them kids?”

  “No problem,” Wade said. “I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

  You can bet that I didn’t get much sleep that night. I was certain as a racehorse can outrun a donkey that the outlaws would kill us in the morning. I could hear Frankie crying softly for a while, and then he must have fallen asleep. Sweyn tossed and turned for a long time, but Tom really surprised me. He went to sleep as if he were at home in his own bed.

  I stayed awake, hoping that the outlaw left on guard would doze off. I had a crazy idea of somehow getting the shotgun and blasting them all to kingdom come. But it was just a crazy idea, because they all had guns and rifles as well as our shotgun.

  It was just getting light when Wade ordered us all up.

  “Fix us a breakfast of beans, potatoes, biscuits, bacon, and coffee,” he ordered Tom.

  Tom prepared the breakfast and we ate, although I mostly just pushed the food around with my fork. Then the outlaws took the rest of our food and loaded it onto their packhorse. I began to have some hope as they saddled up their horses, but not for long. They stood to one side, talking softly among themselves.

  Then I heard Jake say, “We have to kill them. What difference does it make if we’re wanted for one murder or for five?”

  Tom, who’d been squatting on the ground near the camp fire, spoke up. “We are supposed to be home today,” he said. He was lying, because we still had a few days left. “My uncle, Mark Trainor, is the marshal of Adenville and a deputy sheriff. When we don’t arrive home, my mother will send him looking for us. He is the fastest gun in Utah. He killed the Laredo Kid and a dozen other outlaws. He will never stop looking for you until he’s hunted you down and killed all of you.”

  “I’ve heard of your uncle,” Red Wade said. “Reckon there is no need to kill you. If we tie you up, it’ll take a couple of days for anyone to get up here and find you. That’ll give us a good head start before Trainor can go back and get a posse.”

  He scratched at his chin beneath his whiskers. Then he said, “All right. Bill, you and Jake tie them up.”

  The two outlaws cut up Sweyn’s lariat and tied us with our hands and feet behind our backs. Jake pulled the knots awful tight on me. He really knew how to hog-tie a fellow.

  “Just to make sure,” Red Wade said, “we’ll take your horses with us and turn them loose a few miles from here.”

  I was so scared, I couldn’t even think until after the outlaws left leading our horses. Then I cried, “We’re doomed! No one will look for us for days. The wolves and mountain lions will eat us.”

  “Stop with that doomed business,” Tom ordered. “You’re scaring Frankie.”

  “I suppose you aren’t scared,” I said.

  “Scared of what?” he asked. “Now, shut up and do what I tell you. Roll over here by me.”

  It was awkward and difficult, but I managed to roll closer to Tom, wondering what he was going to do.

  “Hold still,” he said. “I’m going to try to untie you with my teeth.”

  Tom used his head and knees to get his head on my back. I could feel him nibbling at the lariat. He tried for quite a while and then gave up.

  “Jake tied you too tight,” he said. “Maybe Bill didn’t tie Frankie so tight because he’s little.” Tom turned to Frankie, who was tied up next to him. “Lie still,” he ordered.

  Tom worked his head on top of Frankie’s back. Then he began pulling at the knots with his teeth. He was at it so long I became worried.

  “Too tight?” I asked.

  Tom lifted his head to look at me. “I can get it if you just shut up and give me some time,” he said.

  Tom was right. He finally managed to loosen the knots on Frankie’s wrists. Then Frankie untied his ankles himself.

  All I can say is those outlaws really tied the knots on the rest of us tight. Frankie wasn’t able to undo them.

  “Take my jackknife out of my pocket and cut the lariat,” Tom told him.

  In a few minutes we were all loose and rubbing our wrists.

  “What now?” Sweyn asked, standing and stretching.

  “We go get the horses,” Tom said. “The outlaws think we’re all tied up, so they won’t risk slowing down to lead our horses more than a couple of miles.” Tom looked at me. “J.D., you stay here with Frankie while S.D. and I track them down.”

  The outlaws had turned our team and Dusty loose just a few miles from camp. It wasn’t long before Tom and Sweyn returned and hitched up the team. As we threw our gear into the back of the buckboard, I couldn’t help thinking that Tom and his great brain had made one mistake.

  “You shouldn’t have let them know you had a compass,” I told him.

  “I wanted to be sure they headed due south,” Tom said. “Now, get into the buckboard. We have some fast traveling to do.”

  “Why did you want them to head due south?” I asked as we headed back toward Beaver Canyon.

  “You’ll find out as soo
n as I see Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker,” Tom said, and that was all he would tell me.

  We arrived in Adenville at dusk. Tom drove straight to the combination marshal’s and sheriff’s office. Both Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker were there.

  “I know the whereabouts of the men who robbed the payroll at Castle Rock and killed a man there,” Tom said.

  Both Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker came out of their chairs. Sheriff Baker pulled at his walrus mustache. “They gave me and the posse the slip,” he admitted.

  “We left them at Blue Lake,” Tom said. “They are Red Wade and two outlaws named Jake and Bill. They’re riding right into a trap. None of them have ever been in this area of the country before, and they don’t know the lay of the land.”

  Uncle Mark pushed his Stetson to the back of his head. “What trap?” he asked.

  “They’re headed for Arizona, due south from Blue Lake,” Tom explained. “They have only about an eight-hour head start. They’ll have to find a way to cross Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon, and that will slow them down.”

  Sheriff Baker spread a map on his desk. He ran his finger south from Blue Lake to Bryce Canyon and then on to the Grand Canyon.

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “Even if they find a crossing quickly at Bryce Canyon,” Tom told him, “they’ll end up at the Grand Canyon. Since they have to stay away from trails and roads, they will have a hard time finding a place to cross that.”

  Again Sheriff Baker traced the map with his finger. “They should come out of the mountains about here,” he said. “By riding around the mountain on fast horses, we could cut them off.” Then he stabbed his finger at a place near the rim of the Grand Canyon. “But we can make sure. This is the only place they can cross the Grand Canyon. We can beat them there. I’ll get a posse together at once.”

  Tom was right about Bryce Canyon slowing down the outlaws. Sheriff Baker and the posse arrived at the crossing of the Grand Canyon several hours ahead of the outlaws. They set up a trap where they could catch Red Wade and his men in cross fire.

  Although the outlaws didn’t have a chance, they tried to shoot their way out. The outlaw named Jake was killed. Bill was wounded and died of his wounds before the posse could reach a doctor. Red Wade was also wounded, but lived to stand trial and was sentenced to be hanged.