West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels

by James Reasoner

  "If you sell the farms," reminded Katy.

  There were frowns from the men and extended silence.

  "I'll be glad to go, Grandpa," said Johnny, who had risen to his feet, his toy wagon still in his hand.

  "That's the spirit I want to hear!" beamed Peter Day.

  "That food smells great, Katy!" exclaimed Uncle Clare. "Suppose we fill our bellies before talking more of this Californy business."

  * * *

  When word came to Red Jennings and his partner Jake Vargas that gold was discovered in California, they began preparing for the trip. The men ran a general store in St. Louis. Independence, Missouri, the jumping off place for the California and Oregon Trail, was just across the state. They immediately purchased wagons and began to pick supplies to take with them. Their idea from the start was to form a company of men to share the work of prospecting and digging for gold. Share and share alike was their motto, and they posted signs in the store for partners.

  On December 5, 1848, President James Polk announced to Congress that the gold discovery in California was real. When this news hit the papers, Red and Jake had no trouble getting signatures from fifteen men who signed an agreement. They called themselves the St. Louis Gold Association. Seventeen men would travel together to the California gold fields, sharing equipment, work, and proceeds from all gold found. The buy-in was fifteen hundred dollars—a steep price at the time, but this paid for wagons, mules, and all supplies, furnished, of course, by Red and Jake. Since it was now December, they would continue to run their store until spring. On the first of April, they would begin their jump off from Independence and head out on the California Trail.

  Chapter Two

  Many armed patrols enthusiastically policed the six thousand slaves in St. Louis. A slave party, mounted on horseback, with its dogs, took up the scent of Lance and chased after him. The young man had all he could take and he ran as fast as his body would allow, flexing well-used muscles formed from twenty-one years of hard labor. Lance saw the river and ran for it. Into its muddy depths he flung himself, just as the gaping jaws of many toothed mouths were ready to close. The slavers stopped their horses at the Mississippi River 's edge and waited for the curly haired young man's head to rise.

  There was a wind and the water was choppy; he would be hard to spot. Lance had a chest and lungs unequalled by any man in the state of Missouri and today he used them. He held his breath and swam through the murky depths. Far out he raised his head for a breath and went under again. Concealed by a wave, the slavers never saw him. Not once was a rifle or pistol fired.

  Not even a man as strong as Lance could fight the mighty currents of the Mississippi without succumbing to its power. It was to a dangling rope on a small sailing scow that the young man clung. When his breath came back, he climbed the rope, and dripping wet hoisted himself to his feet upon the deck of the ship. Then he walked to the stern to be spotted by the owner, who held a wooden tiller under one arm and a cup of coffee in the other hand.

  "The Saints be praised," exclaimed the Irishman, putting down the cup and crossing himself, "If it ain't the glory of Adonis himself!"

  Lance stood in wet, thread-bare clothing that stretched tightly across his muscular frame. Every muscle was clearly outlined through a nearly transparent shirt, and snug-fitting pants. He did look like a living picture of Adonis—a figure of Greek mythology he had never seen or even heard of.

  "My name's not Adonis, it's Lance. I'm hitching a ride and I won't cause trouble if you don't cause me none."

  "Glory be! I'll not be sending you to the depths. I'd rather fling my own son overboard than the likes of you. Welcome aboard and if you be wanting work, I pay fair wages."

  "What work would that be?" asked Lance.

  "Why, man, I'm sailing freight and supplies up and down the river. I never saw a better piece of equipment than you for loading and unloading. My last man up and quit on me and my ten year old son, who sleeps below, hardly fits the bill."

  "I'll take the job," said Lance without hesitation.

  "Good! Good! First port of call is up the river a ways. We have barrels of molasses, sacks of rice and flour. Half the boat to unload, if you think you're up to it."

  "I can do four men's work," said Lance, with no intent of bragging.

  "I believe you, lad, I believe you. Come sit! I'll pour you a cup of coffee, and cook up a few eggs, some hash, with bread and cheese and try to fill that belly of yours. But first, here's a blanket to wrap around you to dry you off and keep you warm."

  * * *

  It didn't take long for Peter, Harold, and Clare Day to find buyers. By October, all three farms were sold with the agreement they wouldn't have to vacate until spring. The sale didn't include the stock, which they would keep until spring and sell when the price was highest. All winter the men discussed gold prospecting. They bought a book on the subject and began to collect tools and anticipated making a rocker or a Long Tom. Each had a sturdy farm wagon, and these they worked on and reinforced. They made canopies for the wagons, and by March they sold their stock, and were fully loaded and ready to go. Their farms were located near Indianapolis, Indiana, and they would have to cross half of Indiana, Illinois, and all of Missouri to get to Independence. They were anxious to get started, and it was in a blowing snowstorm they began their long trip.

  "Why do you make us freeze?" complained Katy. "Johnny is wrapped in three blankets and still his teeth are chattering."

  "Just like a woman," growled her father, who held the reins of the first wagon. "We want to get there before all the good claims are taken. It'll be more than five months. Every minute on the trail counts."

  That first night they slept in their wagons and almost succumbed to the cold; the same for the second, third, and fourth day. Johnny came down with a fever, and it took all of Katy's skill to care for the child. The three brothers still would not stop and they drove across Indiana into Illinois. For days they traveled, camping alongside the road. They were now on the main route to St. Louis and there were many travelers. Katy was surprised that most seemed to have the same destination, the gold fields in California.

  One night they put up camp and Katy went about fixing supper. She was boiling beans and frying beef to add to the pot. The three brothers went to visit a wagon parked close by, and when dinner was ready, her father and uncles returned with two young men.

  "Meet Joe and Frank Sparks," said her father.

  "Hello," said Katy, not in the best of moods.

  "I invited them for supper," exclaimed her father. "They're going to be prospectors just like us!"

  "Father," the daughter protested. "We barely have enough for ourselves."

  "Don't mind her," said Peter Day. "You men pick up a plate and dish up. Katy makes a mighty fine meal, if I do say so myself. Umm, smells good. Beans and meat."

  The five men lined up and it wasn't long before they were scraping the pot. Katy dished up a small bowl for Johnny, and she spooned the bottom, finding a meager portion for herself. Eying the men warily, Katy sat on a wagon tongue some distance from the boisterous group. All they talked about was gold and California. She was more than tired of it. Being on the trail day and night would be a burden she did not want to think about. Thank goodness the weather had turned warmer.

  "You say you two are heading for Independence?" asked Peter Day.

  "That's right," replied Joe Sparks.

  "And you were both farmers in Indiana?"

  "That's right," responded Frank, his brother.

  "I'm taking a shine to you two young fellers," said Peter. "Suppose you join up with us and we travel together to Californy?"

  "We wouldn't want to put upon you," said Joe.

  "No such problem," replied Peter. "We can share in the cost of vittles and Katy won't mind cooking up for two more. Would you, Katy?"

  The men looked at the young mother, and instead of replying, she merely shook her head.

  Now there were four wagons, five men, a young w
oman, and a little boy. Traveling across Illinois they came near to the mighty Mississippi. They turned off the main road in a downpour and followed a smaller lane where they camped for the night. Finding fewer travelers, they decided to continue on the lesser road. By evening they drove to the mouth of the Dubois River which flowed into the Mississippi. The four wagons parked near a wharf where a small sailing scow was tied to the dock. There, the travelers watched a gigantic young man unloading cargo. The fellow effortlessly lifted barrels of molasses, and sacks of rice and flour which he loaded onto a waiting wagon. The young man carried a double load from the boat, and he made it look easy.

  "Now there's a fellow to have with us," exclaimed Peter.

  Katy, despite herself, could not help but stare. Not only was the young man bulging with muscles, but he was also splendidly handsome. She, along with the three brothers, watched this magnificent display of strength and agility.

  Captain Kelly O'Reilly and his son Sean were standing near the wagon. The sailor responded to Katy's father.

  "Just took that fellow on a while back," said Captain O'Reilly. "They'll be no way I'll let you be taking the best crewman I ever hired."

  "I don't think I've seen a stronger man in all my life," commented Peter Day. "Now, can you help us find a place to ferry across the river?"

  "Why sure, be glad to give you directions," replied Captain O'Reilly.

  * * *

  Red Jennings, Jake Vargas, and the fifteen men of the St. Louis Gold Association were all set to leave so they would arrive at Independence by April 1st. They were held up when the deal on selling the general store fell through. It took another agonizing two weeks before they found a buyer, and every day the men complained to Red.

  Finally, the second week in April they started out. They traveled from St. Louis with eight wagons fully loaded with food and supplies. When they reached Independence, the California Trail was already heavily trodden with thousands of gold seekers. Red's gold mining party left a month late and didn't arrive at Fort Kearny until mid-June. They had pushed their mules hard and it showed. As they drove towards the fort, a frontiersman dressed in buckskins and fur hat and holding a rifle, stood near the entrance and commented to Red up on the lead wagon.

  "Keep pushing those mules like that and you'll never make Californy."

  Red's reply showed his anger and frustration. "I suppose you could do better!"

  "I could," replied the plainsman. "I've made the trip often enough. In fact, I helped Kit Carson guide Fremont on his last expedition to Oregon."

  The wagons halted, and the men heard the comments of the old-timer.

  "You wouldn't be interested in guiding us?" asked Red, now standing before the plainsman. "My name's Red, this here is my partner, Jake. And these fellers you see are part of the St. Louis Gold Association. We aim to share in all the gold we dig up."

  "Folks call me Horntoad Harry. If you men will pay me for guiding ya, I'd be right willing."

  "Why don't you join our association?"

  "I don't much care for diggin' in the dirt. I done it afore and it ain't likely I'll do it again."

  "Then how much?" asked Red.

  "How about five hunnerd?"

  "Suppose we talk some more on this, and then give us a chance to decide," replied Red.

  "Don't take too long," replied Horntoad Harry. "Another group just might snatch me up."

  Chapter Three

  For three more weeks Lance worked for the Irishman, loading and unloading the boat with an exchange of supplies and money for the owner. For the first time in his life, Lance made close acquaintances with two people, Kelly O'Reilly, the captain of the scow, and his son, Sean. But when the captain talked of heading back to St. Louis, Lance quit his job.

  "But, son," said Captain O'Reilly. "You've just started, you do such grand work, and we get along so famously."

  "I cannot go back to that place," said Lance, shaking his head.

  "But why?"

  "I won't say."

  "If it's the trouble with the law, I'll . . ." began O'Reilly.

  "What good am I if I can't do the work?" said Lance. "You need me to load and unload and St. Louis is poison to me."

  O'Reilly gave the lad twenty dollars. It was fair pay. The captain couldn't let the best worker he ever had go without coin. Over his ragged clothing Lance now wore an old canvas coat. He departed at Davenport, Iowa after finishing loading supplies off and on the boat. As the scow sailed away, Lance waved from the dock to O'Reilly and his son, and the captain called back to him.

  "Good luck to you, lad, and may the Saints protect you!"

  Lance, knowing nothing of the Catholic religion, had little knowledge of what Saints he referred to. Walking down the dock, he took no more than fifty steps before he was hailed by a large brute of a man.

  "If you're looking for work, there's freight to unload."

  Going aboard a steam packet, Lance began carrying crates, casks, and hundred pound sacks and placing them on wagon beds as ordered. By the end of the day, he had carried three times the freight of the other men. When the big man came to be paid, he was given less coin than men who did a third of the work.

  "Why do you cheat me?" asked Lance.

  "If you don't like it, try taking it out of my hide," challenged the dock foreman.

  Lance took hold of the big man and raised him bodily over his head. The dock foreman, a fighter all his life, tried in vain to halt the action. He found himself flung off the platform and into the water as if a child. Men who had suffered blows and verbal abuse from the bully cheered Lance on. Then the muscular young man walked off the wharf and towards town. One of the dockworkers followed.

  "Do you know who you threw in the water?" asked the longshoreman.

  "A man who cheats his workers," replied Lance.

  "Yes, but that was Bulldog Warner and he's a bare-fisted fighter that's never been beat. Man, you picked him up and threw him like he was a bale of straw."

  "He had it coming."

  "He sure did. Say, did you ever think of fighting? You could earn some real money at it."

  "I am in need of food and some place to find clothes."

  "Folks 'round here call me Fast Eddy. I'll show you a place to eat and then a used clothing store. Maybe they'll have a few pieces that would fit someone like you."

  "I'll be needing shoes the most."

  Lance held up an old boot and the heels were worn down and the sole cracked in half.

  "I don't know, you're sort of a king-sized feller."

  Lance could smell food and he began to follow his nose through twisted streets.

  "That's the place," said Fast Eddy.

  The two men went in the restaurant and sat down. There were several booths and a long counter. Men crowded the little eatery and the smell of cooking onions was strong. Fast Eddy ordered coffee and Lance ordered liver and onions, mashed potatoes, beans and coffee. It didn't take long for the food to arrive and while eating, conversation was impossible. The new acquaintance watched the big man put away everything on his plate. Lance finished, but declared he was still hungry and ordered two pieces of apple pie. On his third cup of coffee, he asked where the clothing shop was.

  It was a used clothing store and its length was three times that of its width and it was stuffed with clothing of every description. There were clothes in boxes on the floor, on wooden shelves, on hangers, and hanging above those was a second, third, and fourth tier of various attire. Dresses, pants, jackets, boots, shoes, gloves, mittens, shirts, belts, hats, hunting clothes, slickers, coats, every imaginable item made by man in the form of clothing was stuffed into that store. Lance had never seen anything like it. He was excited. He had money in his pocket and for the first time in his life he could pick out his own clothes and pay for them. In this new life of freedom, almost everything was a first.

  He started with shoes and quickly learned that his enormous size made it difficult to find a pair that fit him. Finally a clerk came to help a
nd he found boots that accommodated his large feet. The same occurred when it came to pants, shirts, and jackets. Without the clerk, Lance would never have found clothes of the proper size. There wasn't much money in his pocket and when he walked out of the store wearing a suit, he had fifty cents remaining.

  "You look like a new man," said Fast Eddy, noting the passersby stopping to observe the well dressed giant.

  "I need to find a job and a place to stay," said Lance.

  "You can board with me," replied Fast Eddy. "I got a cot—perhaps—ahh—you could sleep on a pallet on the floor. You can work the docks during the week and every Saturday night there are the bare-knuckle fights. Between the two you should do very well."

  "What about the dock foreman I threw in the water?"

  "Bulldog ain't the only foreman on the docks. Just like getting a boxing match, the dock foremen will size you up and you'll be hired on the spot. And you look like a winner in that fancy suit. Suppose we drop off the work clothes at my place and then go out on the town?"

  "I don't have enough money," declared Lance.

  "Leave it to me," said Fast Eddy. "I know a saloon where we can get drinks on the cheap and maybe we can play a little poker."

  "I don't know anything about poker," said Lance.

  The apartment was little more than a room in a square boxed building, not far from the docks. Lance left his clothes on a cot and they walked to the saloon. It was a large, high-ceilinged room with a bar along one end, and round tables and round bottom chairs. Men stood along the bar drinking beer, and the tables were surrounded by poker players and dockworkers eating pickled eggs and free sandwiches with their drinks.

  Lance ordered beer and filled a plate with sandwiches. Fast Eddy greeted men at the bar, put down coin for both, and got his own beer. He continued to say hello to friends at the tables and quickly joined a card game. After Lance finished his food, Fast Eddy called for him. As the hours passed, the day waned, and darkness took over the night. Fast Eddy introduced the young man to three vices. The first was the atmosphere of the saloon and the vigorous chatter of male insults and camaraderie around the poker table. The second vice was alcohol in the form of cheap beer, and the third was poker.