Gold Fever

Preface:

I WROTE THIS STORY IN the first person to give the reader a deeper feeling for Easy Edwards and his inner feelings. He is a true cowboy in every sense of the word. I probably enjoyed writing this novel more than any of my others as I have been in every place where Easy goes in his travels. I have been in a gold mine in Nevada City. I have traveled the hot trail from Los Angeles to El Paso. As a matter of fact I have walked a lot of that distance when I was surveying for the railroad.

I have been to the place a few miles east of Benson, Arizona where the boulders are as big as cars with some balancing on anothers precariously. The area in South Texas where Easy travels late in the book brought back memories of when as a young boy I swam in the spring feed waters of the Nueces River between Barksdale and Camp Wood, Texas. I have also stood on a hill in San Francisco where you can see much of the city and bay in all directions. I can also remember the area around Glen Canyon where Easy and his two partners, Irwin and Ransin Stankowski, crossed the Colorado River. There is a dam there now and many old timers of that area curse the government for destroying a virgin area that is now filled with the waters of Lake Powell. Of course they do enjoy the electricity it brings them.

A good friend since our high school days, Smokey Swann, edited Gold Fever and I hope he will edit the rest of my books as he gave me many suggestions and tips as well as finding most of my mistakes. It is somewhat familiar working with Smokey as his brother George and I wrote a weekly column for our high school paper many years ago. Smokey told me that many of the names I use in the book were from people he knew. This included his little brother Bill who I did not remember. This was purely unintentional, but their names may have stuck in my mind from years past.

I think my favorite character of all the books I have written is Lara Adams. She is central to this story as Easy’s and her life become intertwined in a most unusual way. Like all my other books Gold Fever can be read in an evening or two which I feel is about the right length for a western.

During my years growing up in West Texas I knew many people who talked like Easy and Lara. Most of these people were intelligent, but just never had the opportunity for an education. They were hard working people with high morals and a penchant to do the right thing. They followed the golden rule and made this nation strong. They left a heritage that has been described as our finest generation. Writing in this vernacular gave me a warm feeling as I remembered many people who talked like those I wrote about.

So far Gold Fever and The Blue Ridge are my only true Westerns. I love writing about the West during that era as its people gave me the fiber of my life.

A Quote from Charles Dickens:

Like many fond parents, I have in my heart of hearts, a favorite child, and his name is David Copperfield.

Charles Dickens

I can say the same about Lara Adams.

William Post

Contents

Preface:

Chapter 1

Losing and Gaining Friends

CHAPTER 2

THE GOLD FIELDS

CHAPTER 3

GOLD AND LOVE

CHAPTER 4

THE TRAIL

CHAPTER 5

SAN FRANCISCO

CHAPTER 6

THE RETURN TO NEVADA CTIY

CHAPTER 7

LARA ADAMS

CHAPTER 8

LARA’S HELP

CHAPTER 9

THE JAIL BREAK

CHAPTER 10

DIGGING OUT A FORTUNE

CHAPTER 11

VACATION IN SAN FRANCISCO

CHAPTER 12

THE DESERT CHASE

CHAPTER 13

MEXICO

CHAPTER 14

THE LUCKY SEVEN MINE

CHAPTER 15

THE EL PASO SHOWDOWN

CHAPTER 16

DISPAIR AND RESOLVE

CHAPTER 17

THE PARTNERSHIP

CHAPTER 18

A NEW LIFE

CHAPTER 19

THE HOME COMING PARTY

CHAPTER 20

MORGANTOWN

Chapter 1

Losing and Gaining Friends

I WAS LYING BETWEEN TWO rocks and I could see a rattlesnake coiled to strike not six feet from me. He was next to a juniper growing from under a rock giving him shade. He kept shaking his tail every minute or so. The sound sent chills up my spine even though it was blistering hot. I could feel sweat running down under my shirt as the sun was intense and I had no shade. It was real quiet except for the buzzing of that rattler. I wondered what the strike length was for that critter. I didn’t want to find out, but the question was pertinent.

As scared as I was of that rattler, he didn’t concern me nearly as much as them five Apaches that had us pinned down. Apaches are a patient breed. They can sit in one position for hours when stalking an animal. The animals this time were me and my pard, Bill Shields.

It’s times like these that I’d ask myself why I left my daddy’s farm in West Virginia. I had to work hard from sunup to sundown, but when the sun went down I was fairly certain I would see it the next day. The prospect of seeing the sun tomorrow didn’t seem so likely right now.

Bill and I were riding along about half asleep when an Apache arrow came at me. It missed me, but killed a good horse. The arrow must have hit his heart because he went down like he’d been hit with a sledge hammer between the eyes. On the way down, I had shucked my Winchester, cleared the saddle, took one bounce and landed between these two rocks. I didn’t know what happened to Bill. There hadn’t been a sound after that except for the buzzing of that snake.

I really wanted to know where Bill was located, but I wasn’t of the mind to ask him right now. I knew enough about what happens to captives of an Apache to give me the patience of Job in the Scriptures. I had been lying in one spot for nearly an hour now. That snake just sat there staring at me. Every time I would move a muscle he would start that buzzing again. I decided that I should get into a better fighting position snake or no snake.

It was about four in the afternoon when I heard a bird call. Now I ain’t no pilgrim so I knew the difference. I pulled my peacemaker and put it in my waistband. I sat up with my back to the larger of the rocks and pointed my Winchester at a forty-five degree angle to have it in position. Sooner or later they were bound to come for me or I would die of starvation or thirst because I wasn’t moving.

I heard three rapid shots off to my right and a split second later an Apache jumped over the rock in front of me. I shot him in the face and his momentum carried him to me. I shoved him in the direction of that rattler and the snake struck and bit him. I guess it just wasn’t his day.

I knew I had to move so I was up and running toward the sound of those shots which I knew were Bill‘s. I nearly tripped over another Apache that Bill had sent to the happy huntin’ land. When I got to Bill there was another dead Indian at his feet. Bill was just sitting there with an arrow sticking out of his midsection. I looked around as rapidly as I could.

In a matter-of-fact voice Bill said, They pulled their freight pard, but they left me with a souvenir. I guess I bought the farm this trip.

I said, I can take that arrow out.

Bill said, No, it won’t make no difference either way. It won’t be long now, I’m gettin’ real cold and I know the temperature ain’t dropped.

Can I do anything for you pard?

You can write my mom and tell her I had an accident. In a way it was an accident. Tell her I died well with a good friend by my side.

With that Bill’s eyes rolled up and he was gone. I got to my dead horse and stripped the saddle from him. I took a blanket from my bedroll back to where Bill lay. I wrapped him in it gentle-like and carried him to a dry creek that was about fifty feet away. I had no shovel so I put him under the overhang of a six foot bluff and caved it off to cover him. I then placed rocks over the dirt to keep the varmints from getting to him.

After I finished I pulled off my hat and said, Lord, Bill was a good pard. He done a good day’s work for a days pay. He never shirked a task given him and he made mighty good biscuits. Take him to Your bosom Lord, and give him the love he never got down here. Amen.

I picked up my saddlebags and canteen in my left hand and carried my Winchester in my right. I began walking keeping a sharp eye out for them Indians. I had walked about a half mile when I saw Bill’s horse standing between two giant junipers cropping grass. I didn’t want to spook him so I started talking softly. His head came up and I walked slowly toward him calling his name. When he heard his name he started for me so I just waited for him. I felt great relief knowing I would be mounted again.

I was still uneasy about them two bucks that had taken out. They would still be sore about the sendoff Bill and I gave their friends. I had both canteens so I gave Bill’s black some water out of my hat. I taken a couple of swigs myself before we moved out again.

We traveled until it was too dark to see. I located a campsite against a hill that had some boulders in front so that I could put up a defense should the occasion arise. I built a fire no bigger than my hat crown behind one of them rocks. I boiled some coffee and heated a tin of beans. There was some grass between the rocks and the bluff of the hill so I staked out Shiny as Bill called his big black.

I was christened Everett Zechariah Edwards. Because of my initials everyone called me Easy, which don’t bother me none. I was just over six feet two and was just shy of two hundred pounds which was mostly muscle from the hard work I done all my life. My hair was dark brown and thick like my ma’s. I tried to keep it trimmed, but it grew so fast that it was often unruly. My eyes were brown and some people referred to them as sharp, whatever that means. I had just turned twenty-seven. I had quick reflexes and I owed that to my pa who often as not took a slap at me. He only hit me once, because after that I was too quick for him.

My two older brothers were what most people in the county called good scrappers. They worked at it because they just plain liked to fight. After I was fourteen both of them quit picking on me because I wopped the tar out of them a couple of time. I don’t like to fight, but I’m a natural at it. It’s mostly my quick reflexes. When I’m fightin,’ I can anticipate a punch before it’s thrown and can hit while the other guy is just startin’ to move. I found most fights are won before they start anyhow. I never knew a man who won a fight he thought he was going to lose. I just always knew I was going to win and that’s how it’s been up until now.

Bill and I had worked on the JO Ranch down on the Nueces River in South Texas for the past four years. We spent the springs, summers and falls working cattle, but in the winter we mostly spent our time honing up on our shooting. Old Jake use to complain about the amount of ammunition we used up. Bill had a real fast draw and worked with me on it. Like I said I have quick reflexes and before long Bill wasn’t even in it with me when it come to a fast draw. I was always a good shot with a rifle. My pa took the time to show me that.

We had wintered last year with an old-timer named Dion Ocheski. He and his brother had gone to California in forty-nine and hit it rich. He said once you get gold fever it’s bad. It’s worse than all the other vices rolled up into one. He described how he and his brother brought out over two hundred and fifty pounds of gold. It was enough to live well for the rest of their lives. The trouble was they lived too well too fast. In eight years all the gold was gone along with the women who helped ‘em spend it. He had no regrets though, because they had a great time spending it.

Dion said that most people say that all the gold is gone, but that only meant the gold in the waterways. He said there’s much more gold in them hills than was ever in the water if you know how to get to it. Now Bill and I were realists. We knew that the probability of us bringing out any gold was pretty remote, but we had the fever just the same. We knew we would have to have a look-see anyway. We thanked old Jake and lit out right after spring roundup.

Now Bill was gone and I felt mighty blue. Bill had such a happy disposition about him that it made me feel good just being in his company. I will never forget his talent for making biscuits.

While I was having my coffee and some of the biscuits that Bill had baked a couple of days ago, I looked at my map. I figured if things went okay I’d be at the Colorado River ferry tomorrow night.

The high desert can get hotter than hell in the daytime, but at night it cools off fast. I was in my blankets looking at the stars and I thought, I’ll miss you, Pard. The days will never be as happy again.

The next morning Shiny and I were on the trail before the sun peaked over the Juniper Mountains. We made good time and by dusk we were standing on a bluff and I could see the Colorado winding its way down below. I could see some buildings and I counted six and some tents. We started down a trail with several switchbacks and in about forty minutes we were walking into town.

I took Shiny to a livery stable and asked the hostler to feed him some corn. The hostler said, It will be two bits a day in advance. I reached in my pocket and fetched a quarter and flipped it to him. I then lit out for the saloon to wash some of the dust out of my throat.

The bar was crowded so I went to the far end where there was some room. I stood next to two short but powerfully built gentlemen who looked unhappy. They didn’t look like cowhands. As a matter fact, they didn’t look like they quite fit into this part of the country.

I was curious so I asked, Where are you gentlemen from?

They looked at each other then the taller one said, West Virginia.

I was raised in Morgantown until I was fifteen, I said. I high-tailed it when my pa died of the miseries. That farm didn’t make enough to keep one family alive and I had two older brothers. I decided that if I was going to starve, I could at least pick the spot. I also decided that West Virginia wasn’t that spot.

They both laughed and the taller of the two said, I’m Erwin Stankowski and this is my brother Ransin. We left for about the same reason. We decided that if we were going to die of the black-lung digging coal for someone else, that we might as well be killing ourselves looking for gold.

I said, I’m Everett Edwards, but my friends call me ‘Easy’. I wish you boys would do the same.

I then asked them where they were going to look for their gold. They said they were headed for Nevada City in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. They had researched a region where the mines contained very rich gold ore. They had reasoned that through a little geological work they could find a good claim of their own. They had heard that the miners there all carried fire arms to deal with claim-jumpers. Erwin said that neither he nor his brother had ever fired a weapon in their lives. They reasoned that if they found a good claim, they didn’t know if they could hold it as they had heard horror stories of claim-jumpers in the area. This had made them reluctant to proceed with their trip.

I took a sip of that poison they call whiskey and let it burn my mouth awhile before I gave it a chance at my stomach and said, Gentlemen let me tell you my story and after hearing it, we may be able to help one another. My partner and I was going to California to hunt for gold. We didn’t know a pick from a drill, but decided to come on anyhow. My pard was killed by Apaches a couple of days ago, but I’m hardheaded and decided I would come on. I’m proficient with both pistol and rifle and have experience using both. So you see, I could do the protectin’ and you all could do the minin’. We could help out each other as the need arises and learn a little of each other’s trade.

Ransin said, Where are you stayin’, Easy?

I just got into town and haven’t got to that yet, I replied.

Ransin said, "Why don’t you come with us to our tent and we can