The Darkness You Fear Page 20

  “Leave it to me,” Angus said, winking. “Nothing but the best for Miss Reed and company.” He turned to leave.

  “And Angus?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Make sure you buy plenty of ammunition.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Oregon Territory, October 1851

  Dearest Frank,

  We have in our possession a crude map with the directions to a gold mine! Many people have searched for the Lost Blue Bucket Mine in the last few years, driven by the legend. No one is certain how this story became so well known when there was only the vaguest information about it. The lost Meek Cutoff wagon train, the blue buckets, the gold—that’s all anyone seems to know about, but such scant information has given rise to more than one forlorn expedition into the High Desert. There are usually no names attached to the myth.

  Certainly Jonathan Meredith wouldn’t have spread the tale. Nor, according to Abigail, have the Catledges told anyone. Perhaps Bart Parsons is drunkenly rambling about it on the Portland wharfs. In any case, there is many a man who would kill for these directions to a dry creek bed where the placer gold is so rich one needs only to lean over and pick it up. Or so it is said.

  I suspect it won’t be as simple as that. If the mine were that easy to find, someone would have found the location by now. The directions are specific only for the last few miles, but without those last instructions, there would be no way to find it. We could wander by only yards away and not know it.

  The expedition is complicated by the fact that the tribes of the Columbia Plateau are on the warpath. The California miners have arrived in southern Oregon, and some of them have made their way north. And there have been gold deposits found in northeastern Oregon, not far from where we are now. Miners have begun encroaching on tribal lands.

  My companions have been steadfast. Lesser men might be seduced by the possibility of finding gold, take the map, and steal away in the night. My companions don’t seem to care about riches. Drake is infatuated with Mary, and Angus tells me he’s too old to care about money anymore. Franklin is a dutiful follower.

  I will make sure that all three are rewarded for their loyalty by paying them with my own Skoocoom gold—which, fortunately for us, no one has told any stories about.

  Love,

  Virginia

  The directions to the Lost Blue Bucket Mine, at least for the first part of the journey, were simple enough. Virginia and her companions merely needed to find the location where the lost wagon train had intersected with the Columbia Gorge after traveling northward from its wanderings in the middle of the territory. This spot, according to the map, was about three days’ travel west along the riverbank. It was a place Virginia had noticed on the eastward trip to Vale, where the high bluffs gave way to a sharp ravine with a dry creek at the bottom.

  The way south from there was also relatively easy to follow, until the ravine ended and a high plateau began.

  As the travelers reached that spot, they saw the smoke of a campfire on the horizon, a welcome sight with dusk falling and a cold breeze blowing briskly across the high plains. The firelight seemed to be flickering out of the ground itself, and as they neared, they saw that it came from the bottom of a depression, as if the earth had given way to a sinkhole that had, over the years, partially filled back up with earth and sand. There was a mule at the bottom, a fire against one wall, and a man huddled over the fire, warming his hands, unaware of their approach until they were right on top of him.

  “Ahoy there,” Angus called out.

  The man shouted in surprise and turned, a shotgun in hand, pointing it up at them fearfully.

  “Whoa, there, friend,” Angus said, holding out his hands. “We’re not the enemy.”

  The man lowered the gun. “You startled me,” he said. “Come on down, I’m cooking some stew.”

  There wasn’t enough room in the hole for the travelers and their mounts, so they tied their horses to the branches of a lone, scraggly juniper and climbed down.

  The man had set aside his gun and was trying to stand. He had a bandaged leg and was having a difficult time staying upright. He had a thick black beard with gray streaks in it and watery blue eyes, and his features were those of a grizzled farmer. His hands shook a little, but evidently from age rather than fear.

  The remains of a gutted rabbit had been thrown against the base of the incline on the other side of the fire. A blackened pot nestled in the coals, stew cooking within. Virginia’s stomach growled at the savory smell.

  “Are you Gus Smith?” she asked.

  The man hesitated, then nodded. “And who might you be?”

  “Abigail sent us,” Virginia said. “She gave us directions.”

  “Oh?” He looked suspicious. “And why would she do that?”

  “We know about your situation, Mr. Smith…or should I say, Mr. Catledge.”

  His hand drifted toward the shotgun, but Virginia thought it was an unconscious reaction, for he stopped halfway. Beside her, she felt Angus tense, his own hand reaching inside his coat.

  Virginia said quickly, “My name is Virginia. I am a friend of Mary Perkins. She asked me to help look into the missing Parsons children.”

  “Why would she do that?” Gus growled. “What business is it of yours?”

  Virginia could see that he wasn’t going to be as easy to convince as his wife had been.

  Angus spoke up for her, his voice aggrieved for her sake. “I assure you, sir, Miss Reed only wishes to help. She is quite well off. She doesn’t need a gold mine. She only wants to find the truth.”

  “Virginia Reed?” Gus asked. “Of the Donner Party?

  Drake was standing on Virginia’s other side, and he gave a short laugh. “Amazing that everyone knows about you, Miss Reed. Evidently you make quite an impression.”

  “Aye,” Franklin said. “I’ve heard things too.”

  Gus appeared to relax slightly. He shrugged. “Is it such a surprise? It is what we all feared would happen to us: starving and freezing, without anyone to help. All the way across the continent, we feared it. So when it finally happened to someone else, we all paid attention. We also noticed that the events didn’t all add up. That’s where the rumors about Miss Reed come from.”

  “Rumors?” Drake asked. He didn’t appear to have heard them.

  Virginia broke in. “We’re happy to have caught up to you, Mr. Catledge. We thought you’d be far ahead of us by now.”

  The stew had started to boil, and Gus reached over with his bare fingers and lifted the pot, almost dropping it into his lap and then blowing on his fingers. He picked up a spoon and began eating it absently, not offering any to anyone else.

  “I hurt my leg,” he said. “I thought I’d give it a day or two’s rest and hope it got well enough to walk on.”

  “May I see it?” Angus asked. “I have some experience with injuries.”

  “No!” Gus said, almost shouting, and Angus stopped after moving a few steps toward him. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to leave some of my supplies here and ride one of the pack mules.”

  “Have you seen any sign of Becky or Jed?” Virginia asked.

  Gus seemed surprised by the question. “Uh…not yet. I expect we’ll find them soon enough.”

  “We’d like to accompany you, if you don’t mind,” Virginia said.

  It looked to her as if Gus wasn’t happy with the thought but couldn’t think of any reason to object. “Sure,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry I’m so grumpy. I haven’t had to rough it for a few years, and this injury is dispiriting.” He looked down at the half-empty pot of stew and suddenly seemed to realize he’d been eating it in front of them. “Would you care for some of this stew? I was so hungry I forgot to be a good host.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Angus said, stepping forward. After pulling his coat sleeves up over his hands, he lifted the pot with the spoon in it and started eating. He looked over at Virginia and Drake, who both shook their heads. Drake pulled som
e jerky out of his backpack and sat down near the fire, chewing and staring into the flames. Franklin waited until Angus was done, and when offered the pot, hungrily finished the stew.

  Virginia had some hardtack in her pack, and that sufficed for her dinner. As she ate, she considered Gus and the fact that she wasn’t sure how she’d respond if strangers came along and got involved in her business. Gus was being protective, and she was going to need to win him over.

  As she spread out her blankets, she saw Angus standing nearby, watchful, with the posture of a picket guard. She smiled to herself and fell asleep.

  ***

  When Virginia awoke, most of the others were already up and ready to go. Gus Catledge was leaning against his mule as if contemplating trying to get on it.

  “We’re all packed, Miss Reed,” Angus said. “Thought we’d let you get a little extra rest.”

  She’d slept hard, and there was a crook in her neck. She reached up and rubbed the spot until it loosened up. She’d slept in her clothes, and as soon as she was on her feet, she realized that she didn’t need to do anything but mount up.

  “I’m ready,” she said. “I don’t suppose anyone brewed up any coffee?”

  Angus magically produced a cup of the black liquid. “I’ve seen that you aren’t clear-headed in the mornings till you have a cup,” he said. “I saved you one. A bit cold, I’m sorry to say.”

  It tasted awful, but Virginia felt her mind clearing before she reached the dregs. She chewed on the grounds, sucking the last bit of energy from them. “Angus, you are proving to be a boon companion in more ways than one,” she said.

  Gus pulled himself onto the mule, refusing Drake’s help.

  “Why don’t you head back home, Mr. Catledge?” Virginia said. “We’ll find Becky and bring her back, I promise.”

  “No,” Gus said. “She’s my daughter. I’m not leaving her out here.”

  He turned south, and they followed him. He seemed to know where he was going. Whenever they reached a spot where they had to decide which path to follow, he chose a route without referring to the map.

  That night, when they set up camp, Virginia saw Gus testing his leg, and it seemed he could put some weight on it. He was much more cheerful at that night’s campfire, telling stories about the wagon train’s trip across this land.

  “I notice you haven’t had to refer to your map,” Virginia said.

  “I remember this place, as it happens,” Gus said. “Which is a bit of a surprise. If you’d asked me, I would have said I wasn’t paying much attention by the time we reached here. We were so close to our goal of the Willamette Valley, I was focused on that. I didn’t realize anything had happened. I mean, we were all devastated by the loss of Cager and Allie, of course. But I thought it was likely an unfortunate accident, like so many others. We were near our new home, and that’s what I remember most. I don’t even remember seeing the blue buckets or their hidden cargo.”

  “You were never tempted to go look once you found out?” Angus asked.

  “You’ve met Abigail,” Gus said. “She is all the wealth I need.”

  “Hmmm,” Angus said.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Gus said. “If we find gold, I won’t turn it down. I wouldn’t mind indulging Abigail for the rest of her life. Knitting, gardening…whatever she wants to do…without worrying about money. No, I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

  “How much farther?” Drake asked.

  Gus didn’t answer for a time, and his eyes glazed over as if he was referring to a map inside his head. “I think we’re close,” he said at last. “Maybe one more day.”

  “We should keep an eye out,” Virginia said. “If we’re close, we risk running into Jonathan Meredith. I don’t think he’ll be happy to see us.”

  “We need to watch out for Indians too,” Drake reminded them. “I’ll take first watch.”

  It took longer than usual for Virginia to fall to sleep that night. She sensed that she would learn the truth on the morrow, whatever the truth might be. She rose up at one point to stir the fire and caught the glint of Gus Catledge’s blue eyes peering at her. She shuddered. No doubt he was imagining the worst. There was no sign of Becky or Jed having come this way, which Virginia thought was strange. Surely Becky must have suspected that her father would come after her and would leave clues for him.

  Drake was still on watch, and Virginia went over and relieved him, over his objections. He gave in at last, rolled himself up in his blankets, and was instantly asleep. When Virginia turned and looked back at the fire, Gus had rolled over, turning his back to her. She turned away from the light and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She stood watch the rest of the night, letting Angus and Franklin sleep in.

  The stars above were brighter than she ever seen, and she had to admit to herself that she loved life on the trail. She thought of Frank, back at the ranch, and felt uneasy. She wanted to be a dutiful wife, but…

  She turned her eyes away from the stars and stared into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Oregon Territory, October 1851

  In the morning, Virginia took the map out and looked it over. To her left was a cone-shaped butte, and to her right was a deep gully. According to the map, there should be a small creek directly to the south of them. According to the X on the map, the Lost Blue Bucket Mine was only a few miles beyond it, halfway to another creek.

  Once again, Gus didn’t refer to his own map but led the way confidently, as if he already knew where he was going. Within an hour, they came to the top of a small bluff, and there at the base was the creek, which was almost dry. It was lined by aspen trees, whose leaves were shaking in the slight breeze. It was an idyllic spot, a place Virginia could have imagined staying for a long time.

  “You go on down,” Gus said. “My mule is laboring under me. I’d like to give him a rest before I continue.” He slid off the mule and leaned up against it. Then he hobbled a few steps and grinned at the others. “I’ll mosey on after you. You folks go ahead, water your horses, have a repose. We’re almost there.”

  So Virginia and her companions went on, and as they approached a copse of trees sheltered in a sharp bend in the creek, Virginia smelled a campfire. She stopped, holding up her hand. Angus must have smelled it too, because he already had his pistol out. Over the heavy breathing of their horses, they heard the faint sound of men talking. They were speaking English.

  Virginia relaxed a little. They’d been lucky not to run into any Indians. These were probably miners, trying their luck in a new creek bed.

  “I’ll go on ahead,” she said. “You wait here.”

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen,” Angus said. “I’m not letting a woman stroll into a miner’s camp alone.”

  “I’ll be safe because I’m a woman,” Virginia answered. “They’ll be less likely to be alarmed.”

  Angus glanced over his shoulder to where Gus was making his way slowly down the hill toward them.

  “If I shout, you come running,” Virginia said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Angus looked at Drake, who seemed bemused and merely shrugged. “She’ll be safe enough,” he said. “They might shoot you or me as claim jumpers.” He nodded to Virginia. “We’ll wait for Mr. Catledge and come on over when you call.”

  Franklin watched the exchange, looking troubled, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You packing?” Angus asked Virginia.

  She pulled back her coat, revealing the small gun nestled in her belt.

  Angus gave a resigned sigh. “You be careful, miss. Let them know you’re approaching. They must be rather jumpy, what with the Indian attacks.”

  Virginia rode into the camp from the side, where she would be the most visible. Her horse neighed when it smelled the other horses picketed nearby.

  “Who’s there?” a man shouted. She had unknowingly passed the latrine. He appeared from behind her, buttoning up. He wasn’t armed. He was barely clothed, just wearing his
long johns.

  “A fellow traveler,” Virginia said. “I’m looking for someone.”

  He walked over to her, squinting up into her face. “Well, you’d best come into the camp.”

  There were five men in the camp, two of them lying on their blankets as if they were just waking up, though it was nearly midday. The three others stood tending the campfire. They were rough looking, as if they’d been out here for weeks. Virginia looked around; there was no sign of mining or any other activity that would explain their presence here.

  The oldest of the men looked to be in his mid-forties, with a long mustache dropping down below his jowls. His hair was a tangle, matted down around the forehead where his hat would sit. He looked annoyed to see her.

  “Whose turn was it on guard duty?” he asked. None of the others answered, but they all looked toward the young man who’d led Virginia into the camp. He was the youngest looking, clean-shaven because he probably couldn’t grow a beard if he wanted to. He’d sheared his hair close to his head.

  The older man spit off to one side. “Well, damn, Samuel, you are worthless.”

  “Well, shit, Clement,” the clean-shaven youth said. “We ain’t seen no one we weren’t expecting to see in weeks. What does it matter?”

  “Lucky it’s just a girl,” Clement said, “and not a band of savages.” He turned back to Virginia and took hold of her horse’s bridle, jerking it down. The horse tried to rear up, but he kept an iron grip on the bridle. “Come down from there, young lady. You’re putting a crook in my neck from having to look up at you.”

  “Why are you camped here?” Virginia asked instead of dismounting. Now that she was among them, she sensed there was something wrong here.

  “Well, now, that’s our business,” Clement said. “We aren’t paid to answer questions. Now I really insist that you come down from there.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” she asked.

  “We aren’t paid to ask questions either, ma’am. Are you coming down from there, or do I need to drag you down?”