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

by James Reasoner

They ate breakfast, packed up the mules, hitched the wagon, and saddled their horses. They guided the animals along the Carson River, following the sketched map given to them by Colonel Stevenson. After leaving the Carson, they began to travel straight south to attempt to find the northern section of the Mokelumne River. As they passed through forested mountain peaks, heading south, they began to cross over small rivers and streams. Occasionally they caught glimpses of various sized lakes. On the streams they saw roughly dressed miners, with picks and shovels digging out mud and gravel and shoveling into Long Toms, using the rushing water to wash away stones and dirt in an effort to find gold. Other places they saw single men filling pans and washing them in the moving water. These miners were intense in their work and they appeared worn and tired. Each man or group of men seemed deeply focused upon their task, and when seeing the party of travelers, they looked up wild eyed and wary. None of these men were inclined to talk or to step away from their labor. The gleam of long rifles and pistols near the miners revealed their steely cautiousness.

  Traveling, they reached the top of one steep incline. Lance, in front leading the first long line of mules, stopped in his tracks. The others behind him did the same. The men, as well as Katy and the boy stared. Before them, coming down the trail was an emaciated man of undetermined age, wearing ragged clothing, worn work boots, no hat, and upon one side of the man's head was a bloody wound. The blood had run down the miner's face and soaked into his torn woolen shirt. Dried now, it was a crusty red. His scalp, his neck, and shirt contained hunks of dried gore. The man staggered as he walked and he appeared a frightful sight. Slowly, the injured man approached and when he was only a few feet away, Lance dismounted and called out to him.

  "Sir, you are hurt. Can we help you?"

  The man turned glassy-eyed, at first not appearing to comprehend, and then his eyes seemed to focus and he opened his mouth to speak. His first utterance was a hoarse whisper which made no sense. Then the man cleared his throat and made his response.

  "You are speaking to me, sir?"

  "I am."

  "And you said?"

  "You appear to be badly injured," repeated Lance. "May we help?"

  "No man on this earth can help me this day," responded the injured man.

  By now Katy had dismounted and tied her mount. She came forward with a canteen and handkerchief, her intent to give drink and help clean the terrible wound on the man's head. Young Johnny climbed down from the wagon seat and moved forward. He took a closer look and then stepped back behind a mule. Clare followed Katy, and Fast Eddy stared from some distance, wanting to listen, but like young Johnny having no desire to see more.

  "What has happened to you, man?" asked Lance.

  "I . . . we . . . my son and I were robbed of our gold."

  "You are badly injured," said Lance. "Come, sit down."

  There was a deep hole in the man's head. Those in the group could see it and each wondered what the exposed white substance was. The injured man stared glassy-eyed off into space and with a hoarse voice began to speak. Lance took hold of the man's arm and shoulder and gently guided the fellow to the trunk of a large pine tree and sat him down. The man gave no resistance. Once the injured fellow started speaking, it was as if he was in a trance. The whispery voice droned on without stopping. While he spoke, all of the members of Lance's group came closer to listen.

  "My son and I worked like dogs. We searched the stream, found color, and staked our claim. We built a Long Tom and started digging. It was sinful what I turned into. Once we started finding gold I went crazy with the fever. Even a lazy man, once finding gold would turn into a worker, and I had been a worker all my life. I barely slept, I barely ate, I cursed the darkness for keeping me from digging. I stood in the cold stream with pickaxe and shovel and dug and dug. I dug till my hands bled. I dug until my legs turned numb and I could no longer stand. Time and again my son had to drag me from the stream and cover me with blankets. Other men around us found gold, too, and they dug as we did, crazy starved men after yellow color. We ran out of food and others did, too. While they sickened and weakened and fell ill, I did not. My son finally went away and came back with supplies. He purchased a mule with his gold and brought back a heavy load. We finally ate well, strengthened, and went back to work."

  As the injured man was speaking, buzzing flies began to gather and land on the wound. Lance saw them crawl into the deep hole in the skull and disappear. The man did not seem to notice. Unable to cope with the gruesome sight, Lance began brushing away the flies, and repeated the action all the time the injured fellow was speaking.

  "We worked for months, digging down into bedrock. There came a time when Jonathan said we had enough. He worried about a sickness, typhoid or cholera, or some such was bringing down the miners. He kept saying we had enough gold and it was time to go. I argued with my own son. I had the gold fever and I wanted to stay. We fought, I struck him, and then somehow I came to my senses."

  For a few brief moments the injured miner quit talking and stared into space. Whatever it was, he slowly raised his hands and arms toward it. They reached out and grabbed hold of something. The old man's face grimaced into horrible anguish and then the arms dropped to his sides. His features once again became expressionless, and the man continued his narrative as if he had never stopped.

  "We heard there were highwaymen but we were armed, we left in the middle of the night, loading our mule with our gold, telling no one of our departure. But when we came to the top of the mountain on our way to Stockton and a ship home, three armed men stopped us. One said they were watching our work through a spy glass, and when we no longer were on our claim, they knew we were pulling out. My son Jonathan argued. One of the men shot him. I grabbed my knife and was inches away from the man's back when something struck me hard from behind."

  Lance had taken the canteen from Katy, opened the spout, and tried to force the man to drink. Oddly, the fellow pushed the canteen away. Taking the clean handkerchief and soaking it, Lance attempted to dab gently at the man's wound. Again the fellow kept pushing Lance's hand away.

  "Why, man," said Lance, "I am trying to help you."

  "There is no help for one such as me," replied the injured fellow, in a voice that had no emotion.

  "How long has it been since you've eaten?" asked Lance.

  "Since my son was killed," responded the wounded stranger.

  "How long has that been?"

  "Four days."

  "Here now!" said Lance. "You must take food and water and let me clean your wound."

  "No, now that you have sat me down, I will never get up and walk again."

  "Don't talk nonsense," replied Lance. "Once you drink, eat, and rest, you will be fine."

  "I will never be fine again," replied the sick man, now in a louder voice. "I will not live much longer."

  "Come now," said Lance. "All of us have hardships, you are no exception. Be a man and . . ."

  "No. Make no more effort. But now that you are here, let me talk."

  "Please," said Katy bending down on one knee and taking up the canteen. "Please, mister, take a drink. It will help you."

  "No, miss, it will only prolong my suffering. Don't you see? I am mortally wounded. Maybe you would like to hear my confession?"

  "If it will help," replied Katy hesitantly.

  "Beware of the Gold Fever!" blurted out the man, whose eyes once again appeared glassy and unfocused.

  "Yes?" said Katy, not knowing what else to say.

  "It was I who talked my son Jonathon into leaving our ranch in Texas. After my wife died, my son and I struggled to keep up the place. We worked hard but had little. Still, we enjoyed each other's company. But then I read of the gold strike, the desire set in, and I started talking. At first he didn't want to leave, but then we took what little money we had and came north. We ran our horses to skin and bone. And when we arrived . . . well . . . I told you that part."

  "Please, take this water," said Katy.


  "Don't you see?" blurted out the man in fierce anguish. "I killed my son!"

  "Mister," replied Lance, "we have all faced grief. Believe me, I know. But that is no reason for you to lie down and die."

  "For me it is – " began the injured fellow, and then the man's head slumped heavily.

  Lance came to his knees and felt the man's neck, then stood up and moved away.

  "Fast Eddy, Clare, grab a shovel and that pickaxe."

  "He can't be dead," exclaimed Katy.

  "But he is," replied Lance. "Strange that he lived this long. That hole in his skull should probably have killed him. The man was clear out of his mind."

  "Never heard a fellow so bent on dying," commented Clare.

  They stayed long enough to dig a deep hole, bury the man, and say a few words over the dead fellow. It was a sober group that returned to the trail. The words of the dead man lingered with all of them. When evening came they camped at the edge of some trickling brook, and everyone in the party spoke little, ate their supper in silence, and turned into their bedrolls early. Lance took the first guard, making sure the horses and mules were secure. As he paced slowly around camp, he vowed that it was better to serve others.

  Old Horntoad Harry had it right, thought Lance. Grubbing in the dirt is no way to make a living.

  In the morning they moved on and they traveled for days, occasionally asking directions from the taciturn miners until they were sure they had found the northern branch of the Mokelumne River. This they followed towards the town of Moke Hill. As they journeyed further southwest, they came upon hundreds of miners spread out on claims on either side of the river. These miners stared at the wagon, horses, and mules with obvious envy. When they arrived at a likely bend with no claim or miner to be seen, Clare called a halt, climbed down from the wagon, and took a pan and pointed to the curve in the stream.

  "You all got to understand that my brothers gave up their farms, their lives, to come here in search of gold. I just got to stop and try mining. Lance, there's grass for animals, and a likely place to build a camp. I say we stop."

  "Looks good to me," added Fast Eddy.

  "Aren't you going to try to look for color first?" asked Lance.

  "Them other fellers up stream staked claims," replied Clare. "I bet they didn't do it for no reason."

  Lance pulled the mules into a circle, and began unloading supplies.

  "Yahoo!" shouted Clare, and Fast Eddy joined in.

  The two men took their gold pans and ran to the edge of the stream. They dipped them in the mud and then began sloshing it around as they had seen other minors do. It was not as easy as it looked and took practice and time before the mud left the pan.

  "I got some dust!" shouted Clare.

  Eddy was still busy sloshing, and Katy and Johnny ran down to look in their uncle's pan. What they saw were a few tiny specks of gold.

  "How do you get it out, Uncle Clare?" asked Johnny.

  "It would take a long time to turn that into an ounce," commented Katy.

  "Well, it's a start!" exclaimed Clare.

  Katy and Johnny found a third pan and Johnny dragged a shovel and Katy a pickaxe down to the stream. Johnny stepped on some rocks and with the shovel managed to dig down and come up with gravel and mud. This they placed in the pan and then they added water, and together, awkwardly, the two began moving the pan back and forth, using the water to force the lighter mud out over the pans rim. When all the mud was gone, they picked through and tossed out the larger stones, and pebbles. After one more load of water, and careful sloshing, they found several specks of gold and one very tiny nugget.

  Johnny, with forefinger and thumb, picked out the nugget.

  "Now what do we do with it?"

  Katy had a small glass bottle for that purpose and she pulled the cork stopper and her son placed the nugget in it. It made a small tinkling sound as it hit the bottom of the glass. Katy tried to pick out the gold flecks in the bottom of the pan without success. Johnny tried, too, and failed. While Katy worked at it, Johnny picked up the gold bottle and ran to Lance to show him their very first nugget.

  Lance had unloaded the mules. In his hand he had an axe and he had already chopped down a small tree and was busy trimming off branches. He finished just when Johnny arrived. Lance bent down and stared hard to see the little nugget.

  "Good job," said Lance. "Now go do it again!"

  "What about you?" asked the boy.

  "I got to fix things up around camp," replied the big man. "I suppose my search for gold can start tomorrow or the next day. If you don't want to dig, you make a claim by building two cairns of rocks, like we saw those other miners had. Make it from over near the bend to back where your uncle is. Your uncle can cross the stream, and make two cairns on the other side."

  The rest of the day everyone stayed busy at their own tasks. Johnny put up the rock cairns as Lance had instructed. Katy, Clare, and Fast Eddy worked at panning gold and by nightfall their findings were meager, with a few specks and grains that had hardly any value. Lance had tied three large limbs between evenly spaced trees and over the limbs he placed canvas, creating three tents. The ends he pegged to the ground. He pulled down the sides of the canvas and secured them. The wagon was for Johnny and Katy to sleep in. The three tents were for the men. They would keep out rain and wind, but not the cold. Near the tents Lance hauled rocks and formed a cooking area.

  Lastly, a corral was built by Lance for the mules and horses. One end extended close to the water. He dug a ditch with pickaxe and shovel and water seeped in, allowing the animals drink without having to leave the enclosure. A strong corral was created of logs tied to living trees and a movable gate was nailed together and roped to trees. Lance used his powerful muscles all day and by evening he was tired. Before turning in, he warned the others that the mules would have to be guarded closely from theft, and in the near future they would have to cut grass for hay. Before falling asleep, Lance got up once more from the tent he had built for himself.

  "That man who told us about the robbery, said people were watching. Maybe some thieves are up in the mountains spying on us and others along this river. I want every one of you to have your rifles loaded and near. No telling who will come to rob or steal our supplies or mules. I don't know, but we might have to fight to keep what we have. Out here there's only us to protect ourselves. In the morning, I'll place rock formations around the camp to shoot behind."

  "Aren't you going a bit far with that?" said Clare.

  "Maybe," replied Lance. "But ever since we met that fellow, I've had a feeling, and I'm not going to ignore it. There was a reason that old man lived long enough to tell us his story. By rights, that awful wound should have killed him dead. You can believe what you want, but I think he was sent to warn us. All of you keep your guns loaded, close, and ready."

  The next morning the camp was awakened by a gun shot.

  Lance sat up from his bed roll, pulled on boots, grabbed his pistol and rifle, and ran from his tent. He headed towards where he thought the shot came from. Fast Eddy was standing behind a tree near the corral, and the stock was huddled at one end in a bunch.

  "What happened?" asked Lance.

  "Just before daylight the mules got restless," said Fast Eddy. "I came down to the corral and I saw several dark figures at the other side, doing something. There was enough starlight that I saw a flash. A fellow cut some rope and one end of a log came loose. I aimed and fired and . . ."

  "Good job," replied Lance. "I told you we're going to have to keep guard. That colonel said our mules are worth a fortune out here."

  Together, Eddy and Lance walked around the corral. The stock continued to stay huddled together in a bunch. When they came to the fallen log, in the light of the rising sun, footprints of several men could be seen in the dirt. The rope securing one end of the fencing to a living tree was cut with a knife.

  "Look!" said Lance. "There's blood and the knife."

  Whoever had cut the rope was s
truck by Eddy's bullet and had dropped the knife as he ran. Together Eddy and Lance followed tracks, their rifles at the ready. When they came to trees and heavy brush, they found where horses had been tied, and where shod hooves tore up the ground.

  "There were three or more," said Lance. "Come on, let's get back to camp and eat breakfast. Just like I said, we’ve got mules and a lot of supplies. If we're to keep them, we'll have to guard both day and night."

  "What about gold mining?" asked Fast Eddy.

  "I'll leave that up to you and Clare, but you'll have to do your share of guarding."

  "I didn't think it was going to be like this," said Fast Eddy.

  "I'm afraid that a lot of those who find gold don't always get too far with it."

  Everyone at camp was up and dressed. Clare and Katy were carrying rifles. Fast Eddy told them what happened.

  At the moment the sun cleared the horizon, from a distance they saw a group of travelers move across the trail before them. Lance and his party held rifles and suspiciously eyed the strangers until they passed from view.

  "How can a feller do any mining?" asked Clare, with disgust in his voice.

  "Clare, I want you to stand guard while I build something to protect us," said Lance.

  "What are you thinking?" asked Katy.

  "We're out in the open here. I'm thinking of building a rock wall in case we come under attack, we'll have something to hide behind."

  "There's certainly plenty of rocks," said Johnny.

  What would have taken several men days to move and haul, Lance accomplished in one. By the end of the second day, carefully fitting rocks together, and at times using clay mud to secure the stones, Lance built a wall four feet high and six feet long. Then he spent several more days improving this structure by adding more rocks with spaces in between to use when firing. Behind the wall he dug a wide trench, a foot deep. At the ends of the wall he placed more rocks for cover.

  On the fifth day, Lance sat down to supper, satisfied with his work.

  “That's the best I can think of," said Lance.

  "Just think how much gold we could have found by now, if you had used all that energy in the stream," commented Clare.