Chapter 6

When he’d marked off thirty days on his calendar on the kitchen wall, they walked back to Devonsville, and went to the store. They used most of the last of their cash to buy some butter and cooking oil that they really needed, and another dozen fertile eggs. He thought at some point maybe he should get a rooster for fresh blood. They saved enough for one last dinner at the diner. Clipper had some ideas about going up the mountain a ways and panning for gold in the creeks and rivers that flowed down the mountain. Surely gold was still worth something in today’s economy, he thought, since the economy ran on gold now. On the way back out of town he stopped at the store and asked Mr. Peck if anyone bought gold anymore. Yes, the man replied, the assayer stops by the last Saturday of each month. More than a few people in the area mined or panned gold. Good, thought Clipper. I know a few spots, here and a few peaks over. We can try that.

He had found a nice pan, in the stuff he’d taken from the other cabin. One day he took the pan, fishing rods, Girl and Bear, and went way up the mountain, higher than they’d ever been, until the earth was almost bare of vegetation, and the breath burned in his throat. He found the creek he was looking for, and he stood for an hour in the freezing water, panning for gold. He got some, at least, enough dust that he thought the day might be worth his time.

“Clip.” Girl spoke. He turned to look at her, on the bank. She motioned down the mountain, and he saw three tiny figures approaching. Shit, he thought. Surely they’ve already seen us. No trees or even bushes around here. Shit.

He didn’t really know what to do other than just wait. They looked like the same three men that had been carrying high powered rifles the other day, and he knew that Girl and he couldn’t outrun a bullet. If the men meant bad business, there was really nowhere to hide.

It was obvious the men had seen them. They headed straight for the two of them. Clipper had dried his feet off and put his boots back on, and he motioned to Girl.

“Let’s go meet them.” They headed down the mountain, Clipper holding his bow loosely in his hand, with his ten last arrows in the clips. He knew the bow was futile again the rifles, but he wanted them to know he wasn’t afraid of them. And that he was prepared for trouble. Girl followed close behind.

A hundred feet from the men, he spoke in a low voice to Girl. “Watch my back and I’ll watch yours.” She nodded, unbuttoning the bottom two buttons of her shirt, so she could reach her knives quicker. He didn’t expect trouble but he wanted to be ready. This was just some hunters and gold miners meeting somewhere out in the wilderness. There should be no problems. He heard Bear growl softly and Girl shushing him.

Sure enough, it was the man from the diner, and his buddy. And another man they’d never seen before, an older man.

They all stopped, a few feet apart, and the man from the diner approached Clipper and shook his hand.

“Good to see you. Hunting?” the man nodded at the bow.

“No,” Clipper laughed, self-consciously, “panning for gold, and fishing.”

“Ah, a miner. I see.” The man said.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name the other day,” Clipper said.

“Ableard. Ableard Wilson.” The man said, reaching his hand out again.

“Clipper. Just Clipper. Pleased to meet you. Again.” Clipper said. The man laughed.

“Clipper, this is John Jerard, and Mr. Simmons.” He motioned to the others, and hands were shaken all around. Clipper was conscious of Girl standing ten feet behind him with Bear.