Dire Straits

by

Beppina

Telegram received, Virginia City Station – June 12, 1865

TO: Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Nevada Territory

MESSAGE: Send a son. Dire straits. Need help. – S.Davis

   Chapter One

Breakfast was the usual affair at the normal time. Hoss and I had finished the early morning chores, had a quick wash, and changed, ready to eat and then set about the day’s labours.

Pa sat at the head of the table. He wore a worried frown and held a crumpled piece of paper in one hand.

“Morning, Pa.” I greeted and sat in my usual seat. Hoss took his place opposite.

“Good morning, boys, chores all done?”

“Yes, Sir.” Hoss answered for us both, “What are the plans for today?”

Pa handed me the paper, a printed telegram with yesterday’s date. I read it, then passed it over to Hoss.

“Is that the Sam Davis that helped out at the lumber mill a few years back?” I asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes. A good man. He lost his wife a year or so ago, then moved out Coloma way. I’ve not heard from him in a while.”

“I wonder what the problem is, Pa?” Hoss mused and shovelled up another forkful of pancake and bacon.

“It’s got to be bad for Sam to ask for help. He’s an independent so and so at the best of times.”

“D’you want me to ride over to Coloma? It’ll take me a few days, but if I set off this morning, I can probably make it by Friday at the latest.” I questioned and pushed back from the table, anticipating Pa’s yes.

“Hold on there, Little Brother,” Hoss stopped me dead, “ could be old Sam needs a bit of muscle to fix his problem, not a bucket load of charm.”

I flashed Hoss a glare. I’d made the first offer to go help, “Pa?”

“Boys. How about you both go?” Pa, ever the peacemaker, spoke up, “He doesn’t say what’s wrong, maybe the two of you should go?”

The trail to Coloma is not good. Yes, we can follow the stage route, but that takes a while longer. If we cut over the Sierras, we can trim maybe half a day off. But it can be treacherous, and if the weather turns, we could be in trouble. I knew exactly what Pa was thinking; the two of us had a better chance than one on their own.

“Yeah, why not?” I agreed and slid a surreptitious kick under the table at Hoss’s shin.

“Huh? Oh yeah, Pa. That’s a good idea. Me and Joe, can cut over the top, take some supplies. Be like a few days’ vacation up there.” Only Hoss would think a few days on horseback, riding over mountain trails, could be a holiday, though there wouldn’t be time for sightseeing!

I’m sure Hop Sing had been ear-wigging from the kitchen door. I went to ask for supplies for the ride over to find him already packing up some dried goods, fresh bread and all the things we would need for the journey. It was about a hundred and twenty miles to Coloma, but with the terrain, it would be slow going. If we could make thirty to thirty-five miles a day, we would be doing well.

We set off around mid-morning. Pa waved us off with the usual, “Take care, keep me informed. Send me a wire when you know the situation.”

With a clasp of hands, a chorused, “Bye, Pa.” and leading a laden pack horse, Hoss and I set out in the direction of Carson City and our way south. Placerville would be the main town along the way, and depending on when we arrived there, we could estimate the onward journey time to Coloma.

Chapter Two

The stage route from Carson City is well-travelled. The stage from Placerville comes through daily now with some way stations along the way. It is in pretty good condition, packed dirt rather than loose shale. We followed it for a while, then veered off up into the mountains. Knowing how cold it can get overnight, we’d brought our heavy jackets tied to the pack horse. Even in the height of summer, the temperature drops, and it is cold.

Upwards we rode, not pushing Cochise or Chubb, but taking it steady. In some places, the trail was firm, easy going. In others, we scrambled over shale and rocks, watching every step we took. There were occasions when we dismounted and led our horses. The rocks were too slippery, or the shale too unstable, to ride over. If we were on Hoss’s idea of a vacation, we could have taken in the glorious sights below and before us. Green verdant valleys swept away into the distance. The trees created a carpet of vibrant colour. The sunlight catching the odd water source, sending a bright flash to greet the sky. The sky was the shade of blue that I can’t accurately describe, a wishy-washy, watery hue, uncluttered by clouds. Other than the blazing golden orb hanging above us, the only living things visible were the elegant eagles and vultures, who went about their business with no thought of us trespassing in their hunting domain.

 We found a small clearing protected by boulders to one side that made a perfect windbreak. Up on the mountain, the wind could, and often did, pick up without warning. Here we would be safe from anything it could throw at us. With our bedrolls snug near the fire, we settled to eat. Hop Sing did us proud with his supplies. Our first night on the mountain was a feast of chicken, fruit, and cake. Replete with food and my coffee, we turned in for the night.

“Joe, it’s time you learnt to make a decent cup of coffee,” Hoss grouched across the fire, “I’ll make it tomorrow, and you can watch and learn.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my coffee,” I protested, “just ’cause you like it so that your spoon stands up in it.”

“G’night, Little Joe.” The subject of coffee was closed.

“G’night, Hoss.”

                                                            Chapter Three

Onward we travelled, still high above the stage route. Played out before us, the land continued to rise and fall as mountains gave way to valleys and back to mountains. We could see the change in the tree line, Pine gave way to Oak, then again to Aspen. We weren’t strangers to this land, but often forgot the beauty that it beheld. Even though we were on a mission to help a friend, there were moments we had to stop to admire the majestic countryside laid out before us. The peak of Echo Summit stands proud just behind us. Beyond that, another peak not as high but still as imposing. With every twist and turn of the trail came another stunning view, at times enough to make you gasp at its beauty.

“Sure is pretty up here,” Hoss sighed, “reminds me of the Ponderosa, you know, up overlooking the lake.”

“It sure is. Come on, we need to get a move on. Daylight’ll be fading soon, we need to find a spot to set up camp.

Chapter Four

Our third day on the trail found us closer to Placerville; we could go down through the town, or skirt it and make our way to Coloma. It didn’t take much for us to decide to follow our original idea and turn off north of Placerville in the general direction of Coloma and Auburn.

We reckoned we were about three or four hours away from the town we sought. It was an easy ride up through the valley. The road we picked up was good. During the gold mining boom, it had been in constant use for supplying the mines and workers. Now things were much quieter. The miners had moved on to Virginia City and the silver mines, leaving a few homesteaders behind and Coloma in a steady decline.

Onward and upward we went, keeping the river to our left. It was still a pleasant journey, oak trees lined the countryside, some near the river edge, others a statuesque backdrop to the rising mountain. The tree line gave way to a rockier landscape. The sight of deserted diggings began to dot the area. We passed a couple of working claims. Weary, bedraggled men bent low over sieves as they searched for a nugget or two in the debris from the river.

Coloma appeared, a small town hugging the side of the mountain. The decay was obvious. The main street was a row of twenty or so sun-bleached timber buildings. One, it looked like an old boarding house, leaned tight beside what appeared to be a saloon. The boarding house windows were thick with dust. I wondered how long it had been since it had last hosted guests. The building looked for all the world like a drunkard supporting the saloon as it tilted to one side. Further up was a white painted church and what could have been a school. Whether either was still in use, I couldn’t guess. All the other buildings were in a similar state of repair. It wasn’t quite a ghost town, but within another couple of years, it certainly could be. Even the air we breathed felt dry and dusty, and old, and it clung to our lungs.

Hoss’s voice broke through my contemplations, “Joe, look. The saloon’s open. I reckon we’ve time for a beer and some information.”

Seeing two men stagger from the saloon, I had to agree with my brother. Sam Davis hadn’t given us an address, just Coloma. A saloon would be the ideal place to confirm our destination.

Securing the horses at the rail, I followed Hoss into the shady, and surprisingly quiet room. Half a dozen men stood belly up to the bar. Obvious by their garb as gold seekers, we, covered in trail dirt, fitted in well with the dusty surroundings. The purchase of two beers, two thick beef sandwiches and the sharing of our questions soon had us supplied with the directions we needed. Thanking them for their help, we were back on the road. Our destination was about an hour away.

More deserted diggings began to litter the riverbank. So far, we hadn’t seen another human being since leaving the small town. At a guess, I thought the gold had played out, and other than the few men we had met in the saloon, everyone else had gone.

Chapter Five

At a bend in the river, we spotted the track leading toward a clump of oak trees. The thinnest whisp of smoke curled off to one side. Spurring our horses on, we soon laid eyes on a small, quite ramshackle, run-down stone and wood dwelling. The chimney, precarious in its one-sided tilt,  was the source of the smoke I had seen.

“Hello, the house!” I called for attention. Side by side, we approached the building. My hand was resting on the butt of my revolver. Hoss had his gun in hand. I shouted again, still no response.

Moving forward, I saw the corral was in desperate need of repair. A skinny, grey donkey paid veiled attention to us as we passed by. It brayed loud and long. We would see if we could find fodder for it after we saw Davis.

Hoss rapped on the door. No reply. Rapped again and applied gentle pressure. With little effort, the door swung open into a darkened space.

“Mr Davis—” I called out, “It’s Joe and Hoss Cartwright—”

The slightest moan escaped from what looked like a bundle of old rags on a cot pushed up close to the wall. It was so cold in the cabin that I could feel damp getting through to my bones within minutes of being there.

“Mr Davis, it’s Joe Cartwright. Pa sent us to help you.”

“Cartwrights. You came.” Davis’s voice was less than a whisper; he tried to sit up.

“You just stay there, Mr Davis.” Hoss towered over the sick man, one hand keeping him from getting up.

“What’s happened?” I asked, kneeling at the bedside, “Pa said it was urgent; we came as quick as we could.”

“My boy. My boy, Nate. He’s missing. Been five days now. He’s fourteen. He reckoned he could get some gold. Get me a doctor. Now he’s gone.” A hacking cough filled the room. The poor man tried to sit up, but the cough was worse. He flopped back, exhausted from the exertion.

“Rest easy there,” Hoss towered over Sam Davis, “we’ll find him, don’t you worry none.”

Between us, we got Sam sitting up in his bed. I wouldn’t like to say the last time his bed had been changed, but I guess in his state of health, it was not so important to him. I did wonder how in heaven’s name he had got to Coloma to send a telegram? I guessed we would find out during our stay.

“Any idea which way he went?” I asked. “It’s too late to go looking now, but we’ll head out early tomorrow morning.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam started, “Reckoned he was going up by the old Liberty diggings. There are miners up there. Heard tell they’re a rough lot. Heard stories they’re mean as hell.” Another cough ripped through his frame. The piece of rag he held was now blooming with the brown-red blood from his lungs.

Consumption.

“We’ll get a fire going in the stove and build this one up some,” Hoss announced, “It’s too cold and damp in here. You got wood stacked outside?”

A nod of agreement, and Sam lay back. The amount of wood we found wouldn’t keep a fly warm in summer, let alone a house with a sick man during the winter. I gathered up what I could and left Hoss chopping some logs to feed the fire.

Twilight was falling, the sky darkening minute by minute. I soon found some oil for the lamps, then had the stove loaded with kindling and lit. My next task would be to find some food for Tom; we still had a little of Hop Sing’s supplies. We wouldn’t go hungry.

By the light of the lamps, I could see how short of furnishings the cabin was. Sam’s bed stood butted up against one wall. A door beside it led me to believe that it was Nate’s bedroom. I was surprised to see the cooking range was quite modern and not unlike the one in our kitchen at home. The rest of the main room had a table, two chairs, an elderly dresser, and a small clock on the mantelshelf. By appearances, Sam Davis had fallen on hard times since the death of his wife.

From outside, I could still hear the steady thump, thump, as Hoss swung his axe and chopped wood.

“Just going to help Hoss,” I told Sam and went to find my brother. A good pile of wood lay to one side, his rhythm never changing as he worked.

“I’ll go feed the stock and see what’s available to eat, then come help get this lot inside,” I told him as I walked into the dark of the barn. Luck had it as a lamp hung by the door. I soon found some oats and dry fodder for the donkey, and a solitary milk cow in one stall. Looking at her udders, she was full and needed to be milked. Now that was good fortune! With the donkey fed and the broken fence rails wedged in place, I explored further. A pig snuffled around in a small pen behind the barn. I did think of killing it, but reconsidered. That pig might be life or death to the Davises come wintertime. A chicken coup stood side by side with the barn, and a quick feel gave me a prize of a handful of eggs. I hoped to get Sam to eat something decent this evening.

Hoss’s effort paid off. We soon had a good blaze going in the fireplace, and the range was warming, ready to cook.

A quick search of the store pantry produced some bacon, coffee, flour, and the eggs I had gathered. We did get some food into Sam, although not enough. He was so weak and malnourished that his stomach couldn’t take it. Hoss and I ate our fill, and then Hoss was kind enough to make the coffee so it was drinkable. Sam had a bottle of brandy tucked in a cupboard that he encouraged us to have a dash or two with the coffee. It was a most welcome addition to warm us for the night. Darkness had fallen by the time we had finished. Our horses were bedded down in the barn. We set our bedrolls out between the fire and range and settled in to sleep. Sam had another bad coughing fit, and to be honest, I didn’t think it would stop, but he did settle and managed to fall asleep. Hoss grunted his goodnight and soon began his window-rattling snores. I pulled my blanket up over my ears, turned to face the flickering and dancing flames and surrendered myself to dreams,

  Chapter Six

We were up with the dawn. I prodded the range and the fire back to life while Hoss fed the horses and stock. We fixed soft eggs for Sam while we had a bit of bacon and eggs to get us going. Making sure the worried father had water on hand should he need it, we set off in the hope of finding his boy sooner rather than later.

Leaving the cabin, we backtracked to the trail, then turned off in the direction of Auburn. Travel was slower now. We watched for signs that the boy had passed through. Good fortune was still with us; there hadn’t been any rainfall to wash the tracks clear or winds to blow them to who knows where. Rocks littered the way forward, loose shale slipped underfoot, but onward we went, taking it in turns to walk, our eyes fixed on the ground.

More deserted diggings appeared along the river edge. Troughs left to rot in the elements, lean-to and cabins empty and desolate, falling drunk-like victim to winter winds.

“Hoss, I’ve found a track.” I called back to my brother, “It’s small enough to be a kid’s.” Now at last we had something to go on.

Morning merged to afternoon, the sun high in the clear azure sky. The boy seemed to have a destination in mind. He followed the trail, never veering off to the left or right, just carried straight on. Had he heard of a working mine further on, or was he just taking a chance until he found a place he could work? We would find out, sooner rather than later.

We rounded another curve following the river’s flow. The water tumbled and gurgled over rocks and pebbles, and the sun caused it to flash and dance as it made its way down to Coloma and beyond. For the first time, we encountered men working at the water’s edge and sieving water from the small wooden flumes. At first glance, there appeared to be about twenty all told. All clad in the prospectors’ uniform of battered hat, checkered shirt, neckerchief, well-worn pants, and boots. They were all big men. Hoss-sized men. They didn’t pay us much notice as we walked into their camp. A couple of shelters stood alongside some cabins. Compared to others we’d seen earlier, these were like palaces. Well looked after and kept tidy.

A large, bushy-bearded man stood guard over what appeared to be the camp kitchen fire. He had a grubby, food-stained, grey apron tied around his considerable girth. Like Hoss, he liked his food!

Hoss handed me Chubb’s rein and moved across to the cook.

“Howdy,” he greeted, hand outstretched in friendship. “Names Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright. This here’s my brother, Joe.”

Another big paw took Hoss’s, “Jed Anderson. What can we do for you?”

“We’re looking for a boy. Been missing from home for ‘bout a week now. His pa reckons he come up this way looking for gold. Any chance you might have seen him?” Hoss asked.

“He’s about fourteen, kind of skinny and not so tall.” I added, “ his pa is real worried for him.”

The big man shouted across to his friends, who came over to join us. Jed explained our questions while we waited for their news.

“Yes, there was a kid come by, back end of last week if I remember rightly,” another man answered, “The name’s Pat Murphy.”

“That’s right. He didn’t stick around, though. Said he needed to find gold and quick, something about his pa’s ill.” Another offered.

“I told him he was being foolish and to go on home,” Jed continued, “fool kid wouldn’t listen though. I think he went up to the old mine workings. It’s been shut down for years. Played out  about five years back. We ain’t seen him since. Just thought he carried on up the road.”

“How far is the mine?” I asked, thinking, would the kid have tried to get in there?

“Just up there a ways, quarter mile, maybe. If you’re going up there, best leave the horses here. It gets slippery with the loose rocks and all.” Jed finished. “I hope you find him.”

“So do we, fellas, so do we. Thanks for your help. We’ll get the horses on the way back if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jed laughed, “ we won’t eat them.”

 Chapter Seven

The prospectors had been right; the trail was dangerous. Every step caused a slip of stones and rubble. We had a hard enough time staying on our feet; the horses would have struggled the whole way. At least staying in the camp, they would be safe from injury. I hoped he was joking about eating them.

There it was!

A dark maw of a hole blasted out of the mountainside. We edged our way closer; the entry was boarded up to keep people out of the mine. Hammered across the top was a bold sign painted with a skull and crossbones, and the words:

 MINE CLOSED KEEP OUT DANGEROUS

Hoss gave one tug on the boards, and the whole structure gave way. The opening exposed and offered easy access to whatever lay beyond.

Big Brother stepped into the darkness. I drew my revolver, unsure of what we might encounter. I wanted to be ready for anything.

“Hold up, Joe.” Hoss stopped, felt around the wall until he found what he was looking for. “Here we are,” he announced, “just what we need.” In the dark gloom, I could see that he held an oil lamp in one hand. I hoped there was sufficient oil for our search.

Now, within a halo of yellow light, we worked our way into the first corridor. The air was stale but breathable. It was also damp. The smell of men long since departed still lingered. The walls were wet, and rivulets trickled from roof to floor to form puddles in the uneven ground.

We slipped and slithered, crouched and squeezed, through the narrow corridor into another. It was darker and colder. The air was just fresh enough to keep going. I followed Hoss as close as I dared. I don’t like the dark, I don’t like mines, and I don’t like enclosed spaces. And yet here I was, in the dark, in a mine and in a very enclosed space. All I could think of was the hundreds of tons of rock balanced above my head. Just the thought of it made my breathing increase, and my heart go at double its normal rate. Hoss must have sensed my growing fears; he stopped and turned to face me, “You okay, Little Brother?”

“Umm, guess so. We okay for oil in that  lamp?”

“Yeah, we’ll turn round in a bit. I can’t see any prints, but with all this water it’s not easy. I reckon he might have walked past the mine and gone on to Auburn.”

“Give it another five minutes, then turn back.” I was anxious to get out of the place.

“I’ll give a shout!” Hoss stopped, “Hello, anyone here?” His voice echoed back from the depths.

We stood in silence. Was that a faint cry we heard, or was it wishful thinking?

“Hello!” Hoss bellowed again. They all say our Pa can be heard in San Francisco when he lets rip, but I reckon brother Hoss could give him stiff competition. “Nate, are you here?” The sound echoed through the passages.

“I heard something, Hoss. Shout again.”

There it was again, very weak, and still a distance away. But it was a voice, and we hoped it was the one we sought.

Down a slope, then up an incline, across a small tunnel, we followed the corridor. Hoss shouted every minute or so as we waited for the answering reply. It was Nate. He replied to his name. He was scared, terrified and wanted out.

“Damn!” Hoss cursed, and the lamp showed the corridor blocked. It was a rockfall. The ceiling had collapsed, trapping the boy behind it.

“We’re here, Nate.” Hoss called through, “I’m Hoss. Me, and my brother, we’ll get you out. You doing okay?”

“I’m stuck.” The voice was weepy and weak.

“Don’t worry, we’ll manage. Are you near the rock face?”

“Yes. There’s a beam on my legs. I can’t move it.” I could hear the panic in his voice.

“Hey, Nate, I’m Joe, Hoss’s brother. Listen, can you move at all, wriggle away from the wall?”

“No. I can’t move my legs. The beam’s too heavy. I want to go home.”

“Just hang on there, Nate. We’re working on it. Just try to relax for a bit. We’ll have to move some of the rocks to get to you, okay?”

Hoss had begun to move the rocks, one by one. We were in a narrow, tight space with little room to move or stack the boulders. The air was stuffy, nowhere near as fresh as earlier. The temperature was rising.

“We need help, Hoss. We can’t do this on our own. If you carry on moving this lot I’ll go roust those men, they’re experts at this. We could cause another fall.”

“We’ve only the one lamp, Joe. How you going to find your way in the dark?”

“Let me worry about that. I’ll be as quick as I can. Be careful what you move.” With a swift hug that said more than words ever could, I plunged back into the darkness to make my way back to daylight and the living world. My eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light, and I found I could see just enough of the tunnel to hurry forward. I remembered we had stayed on the same corridor the whole time, so I made sure I didn’t wander off into a side chamber.

I was breathing hard by the time I emerged into the brilliant sunshine, sweat drenching my back and my hair clinging to my neck and forehead. I had to squint as I looked up into the sky. Never had I been so happy to see the sun and sky before.

I turned to make a quick visual check on the mountainside. Was it stable enough for me to fire off a warning shot? I took a chance, drew my revolver, and fired off three rapid shots. I prayed the men working below me understood the meaning and prayed even harder that my action hadn’t put Hoss and the boy in further danger.

By the time I had covered a hundred yards or so, I was met by the prospectors all bounding up the track in my direction. After a quick explanation of the situation, most of them followed me back to the mine. Those who didn’t went back to the camp, to prepare for the injured boy and to build a stretcher to get him down to safety.

The men had come armed with lamps, picks, and shovels. Experience told them they would be needed.

These men soon put their backs into the rescue. Hoss was standing to one side, ‘to get his breath back’, as one put it. Another said to let the experts get on with it. But he kept up a constant chat with the boy; it was anything to stop the boy panicking. The men toiled. Rock by rock, they cleared a space. There was a constant chatter as they worked. A song was sung to keep the rhythm. Their shirts discarded; neckerchiefs wrapped as bandanas around their foreheads. Thick gloves moved rock after rock. The air was thick and sticky. And the heat was rising from the number of bodies and the lamps.

“We’re through!” A cheer echoed in the chamber, “It’s almost big enough for a man to get through.”

All eyes fell on me. I was the smallest and the slimmest of us all. I was the obvious man for the job.

 Chapter Eight

Minutes later, the crowd stepped back. Hoss took my jacket; I was too warm and too bulky to continue wearing it. With caution, I pushed my arms through the still small opening. By grabbing at an exposed timber, I was able to wriggle my torso through the hole. My legs and feet soon joined me, and I stood surveying the situation.

“Hi, Nate. I’m Joe. I was talking to you before. How are you feeling?”

“I hurt…” Then the tears began to flow.

“Hey, come on. You’ve got a whole team of men out there just waiting to rescue you. It won’t be long, and we’ll have you home.”

I could hear the buzz of conversation as the men discussed how wide the hole needed to be.

“Let’s have a look at this beam, shall we?” The light from the hole cast deep shadows in our chamber. I could see it was a large, heavy piece of timber, probably a roof brace that dropped with the fall. Given the limited space, I needed at least two others to help lift it.

“How’s the hole coming?” I poked my head through.

“Not long,” Jud answered, “how’s the kid?”

“Holding on.” It was the best I could say. Twenty minutes crawled by as they continued to expand the hole. I sat by Nate, trying to reassure him and keep him calm. Hoss would chat with us through the wall. An arm appeared,  followed by a dark, dusty head wearing a thick, bushy beard. The body grunted and groaned a little as it squeezed into our refuge. Jud’s bulk seemed to fill our confined space.

“Hello, Nate. Now, what have we here?” Another of the men managed to wriggle through, a huge grin covering his face.

“Well, you’re in a bit of a pickle, son, aren’t you?”

Between them, they checked if the chamber was safe enough to release Nate. The fall had dropped on either side of the boy, sealing the tunnel on both sides. We were trapped in a small chamber, not too much bigger than the outhouse at home.

“Reckon we can lift that beam in one,” Jud mused. “Joe, you pull Nate when I say go, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Mose, you reckon you can get behind the other end and lift with me?” Jed addressed the other man. The toothless grin he received in return was enough of an answer. We manoeuvred ourselves around the space. The two men-mountains, wedged into position facing me, while I stooped down and grabbed Nate under his arms.

“It’s going to hurt, Nate,” I warned, “you want to yell, you go ahead and yell, okay?” He nodded, his face now pinched and white, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth in anticipation. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

“It’ll be over soon,” I whispered as I leaned close to his shoulders. My hands gripped him tight.

“On the count of three, you pull, Joe.”

“Ready…Three!” Jud shouted, Mose heaved, and I tugged the boy clear.

” Clear!” I shouted, and with a grunt from both men, the beam returned to the floor. Nate had not made a sound. Pulling him clear must have hurt; we could see both legs were broken, and exposed bones showed through the torn pants.

“Well done, Nate.” I crouched at his side, “We’ll have you out in no time now.”

“I—I— just wanted to help my pa, find some gold for a doctor…” The brave youth now became a child as he sobbed against my chest. With a gentleness I had only ever seen with my brother, Jud lifted the boy away from me. Hoss’s arms reached through the hole and took him to safety.

“Go on, Joe, you next, let’s get out of here.” Jud pushed me to our escape route. Hoss was already making his way back to daylight. The other prospectors were all back in the open. There was only Jud, Mose and me left below ground. Lamps were left burning, giving us a clear way out. I was anxious to reach daylight; the pressure of the enclosed space was beginning to get to me.

We heard a deep rumble. For a short moment, the ground shook. Dust tumbled from hidden cracks and surfaces.

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Run—” both Jud and Mose screamed.

We ran. If we had wings, we could not have run any faster. The rumble grew louder, and there was more movement of the mine floor; rocks fell around us.

“Keep going, keep going.” Jud’s voice was urgent in its tone. Daylight, only yards away. Another spurt of speed, a crashing of noise, a roar of destruction, a blast of dust, dirt, rocks, boulders, and debris.

We raced into daylight, behind us the sound of the mountain collapsing in on itself, burying every trace of human existence within. The force of the blast sent us three tumbling like dice, head over heels down the slope. We came to an abrupt stop at the feet of the others.

“You only just made it, Little Brother,” Hoss remarked as though it was a common occurrence for me to avoid being buried in a rock slide. Come to think of it, it’s not the first time it’s happened!

“I’d like to see you explain it away to Pa,” I sneered in response to his jibe.

There were a few cuts and bruises, the odd graze from our rapid departure and landing, but we were in one piece. And alive to tell the tale.

 Nate was carried to the camp on a makeshift stretcher. The rest of us followed in single file. For all his joking, Hoss had given me the once over and pronounced me well enough to walk under my own steam.

As if I would let him help me in front of all these big men!

Jed soon had a hot meal set in front of us all. Whatever the meat was, it tasted good. I didn’t recognise it but decided not to ask any questions. Hoss went back for seconds! Nate was fed and watered, then made as comfortable as possible. Mose checked Nate’s legs, immobilised them and gave him a shot of whiskey. He’d had medical training with the military some years before and now put it to good use. The boy soon fell into a fitful sleep. As we sat around the fire eating, they shared their stories and how they ended up working together on this sometimes fruitless task. They had heard of the rumours surrounding their camp but paid it little attention. If anything, they encouraged the gossip; it kept other prospectors away.

Night was not too far away; we decided to stay overnight at the camp, then make our way back to Sam Davis’s in the morning. Night travel could be dangerous at the best of times, and with a badly injured boy, we didn’t want to take chances. Hoss and I shared a tent near where Nate still slept. The men fixed up an old wagon they used for supplies, and we made that ready to move the youth.

Breakfast was a quick affair. Jud had hot, strong coffee, bacon and biscuits ready when we crawled from our bedrolls. We were soon ready to make our way down to Sam’s house. One of the younger men rode off to Coloma in the hope of finding a doctor. I filled him in on Sam’s condition and requested any drugs he thought might help. Sam may have been short of money, but we would cover the doctor’s bills. Mose had some skill, but not enough to set Nate’s broken legs.

Our progress to the cabin was slow. Mose tried to miss the worst of the ruts, but the wagon still tossed and rocked. The boy in the back was well-padded with bed rolls and blankets, but we could still hear his cries as he was bounced about.

Chapter Nine

The weak smoke rising from the chimney showed we had reached our destination. Getting the wagon as close as possible, Hoss lifted the boy into his arms.

“We’re home, Nate. Let’s go see your pa.”

 I pushed into the still and quiet room, and once again the fire was almost out; just a pale flame flickered in the hearth.

 “Sam, Sam, we’ve got your boy.” I stood at his bedside. He turned to face me, then the door, looking for his son.

“You found him? You found my boy?” Tears filled his tired eyes.

“Yes, we found him. Hoss is bringing him in. Sam, he’s hurt. We’ve sent for the doctor. And we’ve brought some help.”

The rest of our small party moved into the room. Nate’s bed was moved across to Sam’s, and Hoss laid the boy within arm’s reach of his father. I set the fire to warm the room and relit the range.

Jud took my place beside Sam.

“I’m Jed Anderson, this is Mose Jones. We helped get your boy to safety with Joe and Hoss here. Joe tells me things ain’t going so good for you just now?”

Sam nodded, “Since I took ill. Nate tries, but it’s too much.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking about things. And if it’s okay with you, Mose and me would like to help out. With Nate and the farm, you know, just to keep things running smooth for you?”

I stood to one side, my arms folded as I listened to their plan. Loners, they may have been. Rough mountain prospectors certainly, but they knew their help was needed, and it was offered with grace and friendship.

“We’ve taken a shine to young Nate here,” Mose spoke up, “with your permission, we’ll turn him into a farmer, or a miner, who knows. Maybe he’ll find gold for you yet.”

Sam’s cough took hold again, racking his weak body until he could barely breathe. “I thank you both.”

Jud and I shared a resigned look. I doubted Tom would last another week; I could see the same thought reflected in Jud’s eyes.

“Sam, me, and Hoss’ll stay here tonight, then make tracks for the Ponderosa tomorrow morning. You’ll be fine with Jud and Mose,  they’re going to stay as long as the doctor thinks fit, and then you can work something out between you.”

“Yeah, ” Hoss rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “you couldn’t be in better hands than these two.”

  Epilogue

Ben Cartwright sat pondering at his desk. The accounts book was still open on the same page as it had been for over an hour. The column of numbers would not add up, no matter how many times he had tried. He looked around the empty room, without his boys, it seemed bleaker, colder. Even Hop Sing had deserted him and gone off to Virginia City for supplies and a quick family visit.

“Quit worrying.” He muttered to no one in particular. “They’re fine, they’ll be home soon. Silly old man, they’re grown men, not children.”

A rapid rapping at the front door drew him from his thoughts. “It’s open, come in.”

“Morning, Mr Cartwright,” Petey Green, a youth from town, stood with an envelope in hand. “Telegram for you. Thought you’d want it straight away.”

Ben took the paper. “Thank you, Petey, if you would wait for a reply.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ben held the paper, a smile breaking through his serious expression.

Telegram received, Virginia City Station – June 17, 1865

TO: Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Nevada Territory

MESSAGE: Mission accomplished. Boys coming home. J&H

“No reply, Petey. Thank you.” Ben handed the young man a dollar and closed the front door.”

“Safe journey, boys.” He whispered, then returned to his desk and accounts. In three or four days, his boys would be home.

The End