At first, the lumber brought good prices. But it slowed as the town repaired what was damaged by the floodwaters. Many buildings were simply abandoned, the owners moving on. Most of these went to the new gold strike at Bidwell’s Bar. Some went farther west toward San Francisco.
One day he felled a tall pine, then took time to rest on the broken stump. His mind wandered back to the man he’d killed. Who was he? An outlaw, obviously, but what had driven him? Did he have a family?
Better than most, Jim understood desperation. He and desperation were old friends, and he felt its claws digging into him now. Ellen had a good, stable job. Colton, too. Money was slowly coming in. Painfully slow. But they were making progress. They would build their savings. Just as they would build their tiny herd into something great. The seeds of their future were sown, and all they needed now was water and patience.
He set about removing the limbs, one quick chop for the smallest, ten minutes of solid chopping for the largest. When it was done, the sun slipped into late afternoon.
The cabin was a few miles away. The lake closer. And so he went down to refill his canteen. Deciding the water from the creek would be cleanest, he picked his way between scattered boulders and over a wide bed of smooth river stones. He bent down over the water and his boots crunched on coarse gravel.
The water tasted clean and cool…refreshing after a long, hard day.
He went to fill it again when something caught his eye. Something shining in the water. Not the side of a fish, for it held steady and fish were always moving in the current. He picked up a handful of gravel. The jagged edges stung his fingers.
Canteen forgotten, he used his forefinger to separate out the gravel piece by piece. The dark pieces he discarded. Then he caught a gleam of rich yellow. Finally, he saw it. A shining, pea-size chunk.
Surely this isn’t. What did David say?
“True gold shines even in the shade.”
He held his hand between the nugget and the setting sun. Still gleaming. Jim rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Had he just found gold?
Jim looked around, trying to memorize the spot. He was on the edge of the creek channel, just a few feet from the mouth of the lake. He looked into the streambed, hoping for more, but saw nothing. Most of the light was gone, the clear water now gone black and mysterious.
Carefully, Jim placed the nugget into his shirt pocket. He walked back to the waiting Appaloosa. There was an old, lightning-struck juniper nearby, and he scratched an X on its trunk with his knife.
Then he fought down his excitement while the Appaloosa raced for home.
This could be it. This could solve all our problems. Gold. It would change everything.
When he reached the cabin, he called David outside.
“Got something to show you,” he said. “I found it in the stream.”
He fished for the nugget in his pocket, feeling nothing. Where was it? Had he dropped it somewhere? Worse, had he imagined the whole thing?
David gave him a smile as he waited, but concern showed in his eyes.
“Are you alright, Jim?” he said.
Then Jim’s finger brushed over something small and hard. He pinched it and drew it out, slow and careful.
“Here,” Jim said, and held his hand out while David extended an open palm.
The stone shone there, catching light from the open door. It seemed to draw every ounce of light down into itself.
“Is this?” David gasped.
“You’ll have to tell me,” Jim said.
“Where did you say you found it?” David’s voice was a whisper. His eyes locked on the nugget. “It’s heavy.”
“In the stream. Near the lake. Just saw it shining in the gravel. I thought it was your fool’s gold at first.”
“This isn’t…this isn’t fool’s gold,” David said. His voice held reverence. “It’s real. This is real.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am…and tomorrow, tomorrow we’ve got to go see if we can find more.” David squeezed his fist around the nugget. He grinned. Then he clenched Jim around the back.
“You’ve done it. You’ve done it, Jim. We’re saved.”
* * * *
Cord Bannen rode into the clearing and swore. He and six others knew the meeting place, but there were at least twenty men gathered here. Thirteen men too many. An unlucky number and an ill omen.
Jack, he knew at once. He’d be the culprit. Jack never could keep his mouth shut.
“Good to see you, boss.” The speaker was a tall man, heavy across the shoulders and a bit thicker in the middle than the last time Cord saw him.
“John, you’ve been living easy.” If John had a last name, he’d never given it.
“Too easy.” The big man smiled and ran a hand over his stomach. “But I heard you had some work for me.”
“I do,” Cord said. He ran his gaze over the men gathered around. “Who are the rest of these?”
John shrugged. “No idea. I think they’re friends of Jack’s.”
“Jack.” Cord said the name like the curse it was. Jack was his second in their little enterprise. A man not to be trusted. One almost as dangerous as Cord himself. Almost.
