Jim Randolph reached his hand across the table and they shook. “My nephew Mike might want in on this too” Sam said. “I’m only sorry the sheriff ran Chance Reilly out of here. If enough good folks come together, sometimes we can stop the bad.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Kate’s eyes drop to the table when he mentioned Chance Reilly. After a moment, she went over to a smaller table in the kitchen, pulled out a pen and some paper, and began writing. Sam’s eyes returned to Jim Randolph. “I know a thing or two about setting up a defensive perimeter” he said. “I thought I’d forget everything about the army and that war between the states, but maybe there’s a couple good things to remember. If you want to go outside I’ll help you take a look around and make a plan in case we need it.” Jim pushed back his chair and led the way to the door. When Sam looked back, Kate was busy writing.
Sam and Jim stepped out to the yard and looked around. Sam motioned toward the bunkhouse, some fifty yards away from the ranch house. “There’s your first line of defense” Sam said. You can meet them first from there. He glanced around the yard. “There’s some cover on the porch, and of course from the windows of the house…” He paused, thinking. “You need someplace to fall back to and still have a good defensive position without retreating all the way into the house.” His eyes fell on a large woodpile, about halfway between the bunkhouse and the main house. He began rolling up his sleeves and walking to the woodpile. “Just what we need” he said.
Kate had started her letter, then stopped and second guessed herself. She held the sheet of paper with the address Chance had given her in one hand and the pen in the other. Was it too soon to ask for his help? Would he even get the letter in time? Was it fair to ask him to come back to town and deal with the brothers of the man he had killed? She stared at the wall in front of her and thought. A very short period of time had crystalized things in her mind about the death of Yates. She had talked to her father several times and he had told her repeatedly there’d been no other way. This morning’s conversation with Sam only underscored that. She glanced down at the paper and began writing again.
Jim and Sam finished splitting the woodpile in two. They had moved the original back a short way to create a direct fallback from the bunkhouse. The second pile they had created on the other side of the ranch house, tucked down a bit around the corner. Sam hoped it could serve as a surprise if anyone rushed the house. Sweat ran down his cheeks and neck as they finished stacking the wood. He glanced over at Jim. “Anything else we need to be concerned about? They’re not above ambush, you know. Is there any place you’re at regularly where you’d be out in the open?” Jim considered that one, glancing around the lower pasture, then up toward the upper pasture. “I better show you a place where I suspect they’ve been cutting the fence and stealing cattle” he said at length.
When they arrived at the upper pasture and dismounted, Sam ran his hand along the barbed wire and noted the places where it had been cut and wound back together. “Well,” he said eventually, “I think you’re right about the cattle rustling happening here.” His eyes measured the Carson pasture in front of him, with trees bordering the pasture on the far side. His glance dropped behind him, across the open pasture of the Randolph place, finally ending where the cliffs formed a natural barrier at the far side. He turned to survey the pasture and trees immediately below them. A natural stand of timber formed the border at the south side of the pasture, and afforded a field of fire into the Carson property. “I’d not be coming up here to check the wire any more by yourself” he said abruptly. “If I’m here I’ll give you cover from the trees down there.” He thought for a moment. “If I’m not here, can Kate handle a rifle well enough to cover you?” Jim nodded immediately. “I taught her how to handle a rifle myself. She’s good with it.” Sam smiled and nodded. He glanced around one more time. “One more thing” he said. “When you’re up here at this fence, try to keep your horse between you and the Carson pasture.” They remounted and headed back to the house.
Kate finished her letter as she heard her father and Sam returning. She folded the letter, put it in the envelope and wrote down the Denver address. She sealed the envelope and went out through the back door to join the men. Sam and Jim shook hands one more time, and Sam swung up on his horse. Kate hurried across the yard, calling his name. Sam paused and swung his horse around to meet her. “Sam,” she said, “I can’t thank you enough for your help. Can I ask you for just one more small favor?” “You just name it” Sam replied. Kate extended the letter. Sam reached down, took the letter, and his eyes registered the name on the envelope. A small smile touched his lips, then he grinned broadly and tucked the letter into his shirt pocket. “My pleasure” he said, and then he spurred his horse out of the yard.
… I squatted on my heels in the cave, staring at the balls of gold ore. I looked around me carefully several times, then finally walked over to pick up one of the balls. I was surprised at the weight. I hefted it in my hands a few times, then set it down and lifted the other one. It was approximately the same size and weight. I remained on my heels, looked around me one more time, and considered the possibilities. This cave had obviously been used before by a miner or miners. There were no signs of anyone having lived here recently, which was a little puzzling. If they had been attacked by the Apaches here, there would surely be some spent shells around. If they had been surprised and attacked while they were out mining, why would the cave be so completely empty? I thought back to Tim’s story about miners who were unable to find their campsites again after hauling some of their gold out of the hills. That seemed the most likely possibility.
I thought for a while about whether I wanted to camp in this same site, and whether or not I could consider those gold balls to be mine. I decided eventually that the answer to both questions was yes. This was such an ideal site; I would take my chances on the original occupants returning. If they hadn’t made their way back for those gold balls, it didn’t seem likely they were coming. If they did return, they could certainly have the gold they had mined and processed. That had led to my second question: if they didn’t return by the time I was ready to leave, was that gold mine to keep? I decided that it was unlikely they would be coming back if they hadn’t already, and there was no sense in leaving the gold in the cave where it would do nobody any good.
I went back outside and began bringing my clothes and equipment inside. I decided right away I would sleep in the back room of the cave. It felt safer back there, and a short exploration and experiment taught me I could build a small fire back there and let the smoke drift out through the small opening at the back. The smoke seemed to filter out through the small trees above ground, and seemed pretty well concealed. I didn’t plan to build any fires during daylight, in any case. I hauled my bedroll, blankets and clothes to the back, along with what food I had and a couple of cooking pots. I’d be needing to bring in a little firewood this afternoon or in the morning, and I also needed to shoot a deer for some food. I was close enough to the river to walk down there for a drink. I carried the mining equipment to the front of the cave.
With that done, I stripped the saddles from Archie and Fred, rubbed them down, and picketed them near the mouth of the cave. They could provide a little warning if someone was nearing the entrance. I then took my rifle down near the stream, crouched behind some small trees and underbrush, and waited to see if I would see any deer coming down for a drink. With dusk approaching, a small herd of four came down to the water. I shot a small buck, dressed him, and hauled the meat back up to the cave.
That night, wrapped up in my bedroll, I stared up at the ceiling of the cave and considered the good luck I’d had so far on this trip. Well, other than the landslide. You couldn’t really call that good luck. That aside, I’d reached a place that appeared to have good mining possibilities. I had a big head start on the amount of gold I’d need to mine. This cave felt warm and safe, especially after the landslide and the frigid nights I’d spent near the snow lin
e. I would need some more luck I knew, in terms of mining and processing the gold, and especially in staying away from the Jicarilla warriors. I’d keep my head down, and I would put safety over the gold every time. With that thought in mind, I drifted off to sleep.
Morning found me leading Fred up a rocky path along the face of the mountains. I saw a number of places where there were quartz veins along the face of the rock, and I could see some specks of gold in them as I studied a few. In each case, though, I felt I was too far out and in the open to do any work. Safety remained my number one priority, and I stopped to check my back trail often. So far I seemed to be alone up here. By midday I had eliminated every prospective site I had seen, and was becoming a bit discouraged. I stopped for some beef jerky and water and let Fred graze a few patches of mountain grass I found in a high meadow. After I finished eating, I made my decision and stood up. I would concentrate on finding a few caves where I might be able to prospect.
I led Fred a little off the path, scrambling up some slippery patches of shale and loose rock, pausing to let Fred pick his way when he was hesitant to follow. I stopped to memorize some landmarks as I went, and knew I needed to leave well before dark in order to find my way back. I checked a few small caves, looking carefully for any sign of mountain lions or bears before going in. The third cave I checked seemed to have some possibilities. There were a couple streaks of quartz flecked with gold extending back into the cave. The area toward the entrance had enough light to work without candles. Going farther back, I could see I would need candlelight to do my work when I went deeper. I made a note to put a few candles in the saddle bags tomorrow.
Before I left I took out my pocketknife and pried loose some of the rock from the quartz vein. I held some in my hands to examine it, then walked back to get my pick. I took several swings, surprised at the amount of exertion it took to knock down a decent sample of ore. I picked some up, sifted out the dirt and rock as best I could, and kept a few larger chunks flecked with gold. I took those over and put them in the saddle bags. It occurred to me that I should bring the box with mesh with me tomorrow. Sifting through the material one time before I hauled it back to the cave would save hauling a lot of dirt and rock. I patted Fred on the neck. “You’ll thank me tomorrow” I told him.
I led Fred out of the cave and down the rocky slope we’d come up, checking my landmarks and memorizing the terrain as best I could. With the two balls of gold ore I’d found, maybe this cave and one or two in the surrounding area would give me all I’d need for a start at ranching. I worked my way back to my home cave and tethered Fred next to Archie. I checked around as I entered the cave. It seemed to be undisturbed since I’d left this morning. I settled in for the evening and felt I had established what my routine would be until I had enough gold ore to pull out. Maybe after the next few days I would have a better idea how long it would take.
Chapter Twelve
Kate crossed the ranch yard to draw a bucket of water from the well. Her instinct by now was to scan the lower pasture and bunkhouse area for any sign of activity, and she did so now as she pumped the water. There was no sign of activity. It had been over two weeks since Sam had come to see them and she had sent the letter to Chance with Sam. The threat of attack from the Carson brothers accompanied by the strange silence and lack of any visible threat had worn on her, and she was even more concerned about her father. She finished pumping the water, and with another glance around the ranch yard carried the bucket back to the kitchen.
She knew that for a while her father had followed Sam’s advice about not checking the upper pasture unless both of them went, but now he complained from time to time about all the precautions he was taking and how much less work he was getting done because of them. She worried that he would let down his guard and be ambushed by the Carsons. She heated the bucket of water over the stove, poured it into the kitchen sink and began to wash some dishes, watching her father through the window as she did so. He was in the corral, putting new shoes on the buckskin horse that he rode most often. His rifle lay against the rails of the corral as he worked. Kate turned and went over to the table to carry the breakfast dishes to the sink. As she placed them in the dishwater she glanced back through the window, just in time to see her father finish saddling the buckskin. He grabbed his rifle and swung on his horse, leaving the corral and heading toward the upper pasture.
Kate watched for a moment, and then knew instinctively where he was headed. She had suspected for a few days that he was going to the upper pasture to check the fence for any signs of rustling, and she was sure that was where he was headed now. She dried her hands quickly, grabbed her rifle from the rack by the back door, and ran out to the corral. She saddled her mare and kicked the mare into a gallop toward the upper pasture. She intended to give him cover whether he knew about it or not.
Sam moved around behind the counter of the bar, hoping he was giving the appearance of being busy. He washed a couple of glasses that were already as clean as they were going to get, and moved a few bottles of whiskey from one place to another. Mike glanced at him quizzically, and Sam simply shook his head. Mike hadn’t been here long enough to recognize either of the remaining Carson brothers, but Sam knew it was Caleb Carson sitting with another man at a window table across the room. He considered his options. The extent of his friendship with Jim and Kate Randolph probably wasn’t known to the Carson brothers, so they felt safe enough coming to his saloon. The man sitting with Caleb Carson wasn’t known to him, but he wore a tied down gun and had a certain arrogance about him. Sam thought it likely he was Santos. It was also likely that Jack Carson and possibly Red were in the area somewhere. That would make four men against Jim and Kate, they probably didn’t know the Carsons were back in town. Sam thought again about walking over to Sherriff Stanton’s office, then decided against it. He’d already pretty much let it be known that he wouldn’t take action unless or until hostilities had started.
A movement from the table near the window caught Sam’s eye, and he saw Caleb Carson motioning toward him. Sam picked up a bottle of whiskey and walked over to the table. Carson and the other man both indicated their empty glasses, and Sam filled them up. Caleb Carson tossed down his drink, slammed the glass down, and motioned again. Sam filled it back up and waited. Carson circled a finger around the top of his glass, seemed to consider a couple questions, then took the direct approach: “You have someone named Chance Reilly working here?” Sam shrugged, then set the whiskey bottle down on the table. “Did have. He pulled out and left a few weeks ago. No notice, nothing. Had to get my nephew Mike over there to move down from Denver and help me out.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bar. Carson glanced over toward the bar, nodded absently, then reached in his pocket for a gold coin, which he slapped down on the table in payment for the whiskey. He refilled his glass and paid no further attention to Sam.
Sam returned to the bar and allowed fifteen minutes to pass by. Carson and Santos, if that’s who it was, seemed in no hurry and paid no further attention to Sam. After the fifteen minutes had passed, Sam tapped Mike on the shoulder. “You know the drill. Cover for me. I’m headed out to the Randolph place.” Mike simply nodded, and Sam thought for a second longer. “Find some excuse to close the place down a little early, and then come out to the Randolph’s yourself. Come armed and be careful.” Mike nodded again. Sam move to the back storage room and pulled out his spare shotgun and a box of ammunition. After a moment’s hesitation, he also picked up the rifle he had taken from Red and another box of ammunition. He shoved the ammunition in his pockets, ducked out through the back door, saddled up his horse and headed north toward the Randolph ranch.
It was late afternoon when Sam reached the Randolph ranch yard. He noticed that both Jim’s horse and Kate’s were missing from the corral. Sam walked over to the ranch house and knocked on the front door. When he got no answer, he walked around to the back and knocked on the kitchen door. Still getting no answer, he tried the door and walked in.
He called out a time or two and got no answer. He walked back out the kitchen door onto the porch, put his hand up to shield his eyes and stared out toward the lower pasture. Remembering his conversation with Jim about the suspected cattle rustling taking place in the upper pasture, Sam began walking back to his horse, casting one eye toward the bunkhouse as he walked. It appeared to be empty. Halfway back to his horse, Sam heard a rifle shot coming from the direction of the upper pasture. Quickening his pace, Sam climbed aboard his horse, removed Red’s rifle from the scabbard, and spurred his horse toward the upper pasture.
Kate saw with relief that her father was dismounted in the upper pasture, examining the wire partway along the fence, unharmed and with no one else in sight. She resisted her first impulse to ride out toward him, remembering instead Sam’s advice to give cover from under the trees to the south of where Jim stood. She guided her horse in that direction, keeping to the tree line as she went. When she reached an area providing good cover under the trees, she dismounted and hitched her horse to a low-lying tree limb. She pulled her rifle from the saddle and lay down behind a fallen log, glancing over at her father while she did so. She was relieved to see that he had at least kept part of Sam’s advice in mind, because he seemed to be keeping his horse between himself and the Carson pasture in front of him. When the first shot rang out from the trees on the far side of the Carson pasture, it came as a complete shock.
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