Huck Out West

I was laying on my cot in the big tent in a heavy sweat. “Blame it all!” I says. I felt all quivery. “What time is it?”

“A little past noon,” says Tom. “I come back from exploring up the Gulch and found my old pard thrashing away in a sorry state. Now, drink some a Doc Molligan’s tea. It’ll bring the fever down.” Whilst I was trying to do that, Tom showed me a rock that looked like Deadwood’s. “Turned up this morning down at the crick. It’s mainly what we was looking for. I traced it back upstream. I think I seen the blowup where the old sourdough’s rock might a broke off and fell from, then washed down here. But people was following me, so I had to act disgusted and walk on by. Others may a seen what I seen, though. Quartz is hard to miss. Caleb has staked a claim for us, it’s ourn now, we got it legal, but we may have to shoot a few thieves and yokels who don’t know where the claims office is. This ain’t only plasser gold, Hucky, this may be the tarnal mother lode herself! If we can hang on to her, we’re rich! Richer’n you and me can’t never imagine!”

That warn’t all Tom done that morning. Bear told me later that, first thing at dawn, Tom led a posse out to defend some arriving emigrants from an attack by the tribe. Bear had fetched me some fresh water and was helping me drink it by holding my head in his big paw. Tom tried to roust me out to ride along, Bear says, but I was like dead. Nobody knowed yet about the fever, but Tom called Molly to come take a look. He says it must be the yaller janders, though he warn’t sure. “There was wagons a-pulling in by the minute, and then suddenly there warn’t,” Bear says. “So us and Tom we rode out to see what was wrong, and we come on a wagon train being set on by the bloody Sooks. Folks was a-laying dead all over the place. ’Twarn’t fair, attacking them innercent white folk like that! Tom he rode straight at them savages on Storm, his cremson bandanna flying and guns a-blazing, and they was most astonished and couldn’t turn tail fast enough. Tom killt at least three of ’em and prob’bly hurt a dozen more. Now he’s laying plans for a revenge raid on the tribe.” Big Bear’s black brows frowned down his warty nose so low, his eyes had to peek out from below them like they was hiding under a woodpile. “We’re at WAR!” he growls.

Bear was right, the war was begun. I knowed that, even in my fever. Emigrants was still a-rolling in like they owned the place and battles was happening all across the Territory. There were rumors that Sitting Bull was gathering the tribes up in a big army, and the price on Indian heads was shooting up. Didn’t matter who you killed or how, so long as they was Indians. I heard all that from my cot. I tried to get up, I needed to find Eeteh somehow, but I kept falling over. All I could do was crawl back up in my cot again, ready to die some more.

There was several days a-going by like that, and I couldn’t really tell which was which. On one of them, Tom put on his white hat and led the settlers in a raid on the tribe. Everyone was amazed how brave Tom was, but this one didn’t turn out so good. Two emigrants was killed and Bear got a pison arrow in his rear and was sick for a time with the jimjams.

Tom was spending most of his days at his new claim, so he moved out and let Bear have his cot, Oren taking over guarding Zeb’s old shack, where Eyepatch and the judge was being bunkhoused till they could be tried and hanged. Bear was shouting out that scorpions and rattlers and mad dogs was after him. There was times he jumped out a the cot and throwed himself about like he was rassling with the wild things. Everyone down at the shore was afraid he was going to bring the tent down, so they dragged him out into the open air where he could rassle with the trees. Sometimes he bawled like a baby and called out for his ma. Once, he screamed he was being pecked to death by owls.

Robert Coover's books