Miner's Glory

Chapter One

A plume of smoke spiraled into the moonless Dakota night. A tired old man sat next to the fire, his arm raised, his head raised, his eyes closed. His chest barely moved, and he appeared dead. He was part of the night, his consciousness flying in the darkness, looking for a grain of light.

He suddenly inhaled. His eyes flew open. He relaxed.

Shane White Rabbit stood, and began the slow process of extinguishing the fire, finishing the ritual. After making sure that every ember no longer glowed, he walked down the hill, slowly, as if to not wake some great beast that he had just put to sleep.

As he walked down, his stance changed from that of respect to that of a hunter. His apprentice had yet again fallen asleep against a post. He smiled, remembering how he adopted the boy after the attack, one that had left him with a scar across his throat. At least he hadn’t revealed any secrets.

He roughly pulled his shirt from the boy with enough force that the boy woke up, tried to grab the shirt, staggered, and fell. The boy scowled at the old man until the old man scowled back. The old man pulled his shirt on as the boy, still upset, pushed himself up.

"Come on, boy; we have things to prepare for."

The pair walked into the darkness.

***

The train glowed in the sun as it started to decelerate. Boys raced it in as it hit the station. It hissed to a stop just ahead of the crowded deck. As the passengers de-boarded, a thin youth adjusted his spectacles and leaned against a trunk just smaller than he was,. He took a long look at the town, noting the few small buildings, a saloon, and a bank with the legend “Hanson's Bank, Miner's Glory Branch, EST 1868.”

Something felt wrong. He felt his pocket. Something was missing. He spun around, hoping to see it. Nothing there. His heart raced, his breath shortened. He wondered where it might have fallen. He turned around, and his trunk was missing. What was happening?

Then he heard a whistle. High-pitched and familiar. Far too familiar. It could only be Cal.

He turned, somehow expecting to see a smirking chunky young man in a school uniform, but seeing instead a wiry youth in a loose shirt with vest and and a broad hat, swinging his sling around. At least the smirk had remained. Behind him, in a wagon, was his trunk.

"Hey, Kurt! Forget me at that big New York school?"

Kurt ran to Cal, tackling him with a hug, and almost causing Cal to lose his balance. Cal shoved him off and returned the sling.

"Guess not. Now, c'mon, we gotta go!"

Both boys got into the buckboard, Cal taking the the reins. Kurt checked the truck, and the started off, soon leaving the train station behind.

A man in a grungy Cavalry uniform had noticed the arrival. He leaned against the saloon door calculating how many drinks the information may be worth.

"Someone new coming to the Bar Nugget? The Boss'll want to hear about this..."

He slinked back into the saloon.

***

Just outside town, a clean-shaven young man in clothes a size too big, was riding to his stake at a canter. He heard a noise and stopped, hands debating between reigns and guns. They decided on reigns, and he started backing up. He decided that it was nothing, and started riding again.

A lasso snaked out, grabbed him, sending him to the ground, caught in the rope. He looked to see a rifle in his face, held by a stocky hired gun, with knives in his bandoliers.

"You move, so does my trigger finger. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now, you were given a week to decide if you were going to sell your stake or not. Just tell me you were going to sell and everything will be copacetic."

"Sorry, Mr. Smith, but I've put too much into it. 'Sides, my girl is coming out an' she would like to set up shop here. She's got her heart set on it, or I'd sell it in a minute. Honest, Mr. Smith."

Smith backed off and slung his rifle on his back.

"Okay, kid. I understand. You're going to be a husband and you got to prove you can support your family." Smith paused long enough to let the miner nod. "I just wanted to hear your decision so I can tell my boss. You can go now."

The miner untangled himself, ran to his horse, and left as fast as his horse could ride. A woman with skin like silk cocoa in riding leathers and carrying a bow rode up behind him. He watched the miner disappear.

"He said no," Smith shrugged. He headed back to town.

The woman rode after the miner, but on a different path.

***

Cal and Kurt rode up to to just outside the ranchhouse. Cal jumped down, grabbed a bag of flours and a bag of onions, and took them inside. He quickly returned, and jumped back into the driver's spot. He took the buckboard to the the bunkhouse.

Cal dismounted, and walked to the rear of the buckboard. He gestured at Kurt, who handed him the trunk. Kurt jumped down, barely meeting Cal at the door, and opened it for the older boy. Kurt entered the bunkhouse a hair's breadth after Cal.

Cal dropped the trunk next to one of the bunks. Kurt looked around.

"So this where the cowboys sleep..."

"You can take the top bunk next to the window."

Kurt looked at the bunk, and pushed his trunk over to it. Cal sat down on his bunk, smiling as the younger boy struggled with the trunk. When he had it just where he wanted it, he sat on it.

Just outside the window, a photographer set up just outside the bathhouse.

"Aunt Olga misses you something awful. She wants to know why you haven't written."

"I just don't have the time. But I miss her and her strudel," he said. Smiling, he added, "I'd still be eating it by the wagon-load if someone hadn't found gold out here."

"Found any? Are you rich?"

The bathhouse door opened. The camera flashed. A woman screamed.

"Depends on how you look at it, kid. The pay's okay, the people are great, and I'm thinking about settling down. I'm planning on getting married, you know?"

"No, I don't; you don't write, remember?" Kurt got more comfortable. "So, who is she? What is she like? When do I meet her?"

"Let's put it this way, kid: We put out the word we were looking for someone to break the horses. She swaggered in, we laughed at her. She broke three horses that afternoon." Cal smirked. "We're still trying to a use for her brother."

The photographer picked up his camera, and ran for his life.

Cal stepped away from the door.

"You'll meet her soon. Stay real still and she may not see you, okay?"

Cal smiled as Kurt squatted down.

A dark tanned blur with a rifle on his back ran past Cal and dove behind the trunk. Kurt looked to Cal, puzzled. Cal shrugged.

"Don't worry, kid; it'll just be a gentle maiming."

Jenny stomped in and slammed the door closed. She wore tight clothes from head to toe, bracers, and a bandolier of sharp knives. And wet hair.

James, the former blur turned rock, scrunched down even further.

"All right, Cal, where is he? Where is that misbegotten idiot brother of mine? I'm going to skin him alive!" She stopped shouting and started thinking. "Or just geld him like we did that stallion last spring. Or---"

James turned pale. Kurt looked around for a place to hide, then gulped as he realized that James had the only place. to hide. Cal walked over to her, trying to hug her.

"Now, Jenny---"

She shrugged him off. "I'm going to kill him, Cal. I don't like having my picture taken, especially when I'm just coming out of the tub!"

Cal let her go and walked past the trunk, to the window, then turned. He talks towards the window.

"Now, he has offended my fiance. However, if he could provide a good enough reason, I may not hurt him. Much. But, if he can not provide a good enough reason," he said, turning toward the trunk, looking at James, and smiling wolfishly, "could I at least look at the pictures...?"

Jenny jumped towards the trunk, pulling a knife in mid-air. James rolled forward as she stabbed the trunk. James ran for the door. Jenny turned and drew another knife. James escaped through the door. Jenny started to follow. She ran into the ranch foreman. He pulled the door shut and stayed in her way.

“Hank, get out of the way.”

Hank turned to Cal while staying in Jenny’s way. “Good to see that you got back early, ranch-rat. You and I have a sluice to see to.” He turned to Jenny. “You make sure that the boy gets settled in and doesn’t hurt himself.”

Jenny stared daggers at him. “I’m no nursemaid. Why not let his ‘friend’ stay behind and take care of him?”

“He’s the best person for the job, Jen; no one can fix a sluice faster than The Rat. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before dinner. Besides, with that attack on the Harriss spread, I want my best gun at home. Just in case.”

“All right. At any rate he’d better be back soon and in one piece; if even one of Hanson’s men lay a hand on him, Hanson’ll be the least of your worries.”

He smiled. “We have to eat some time.”

Jenny glared at him. Hank left smiling with Cal in tow. She looked at Kurt, who had stopped rummaging through his trunk long enough to try pulling out Jenny’s knife.

“So, you’re on of his ‘old’ friends, eh?” Jenny sat down and started sharpening her knives.

“Sort of. I skipped a few grades here and there and he was held back for delinquency.” Kurt was having problems pulling out the knife; he had started wiggling it side-to-side.

Jenny smiled. “Yeah, that’s Cal, all right.”

Kurt gives up. He started taking clothes from his trunk, and glanced up when he put his shirts on the shelf next to the window. He stopped. He had to push himself to finish the job of moving the clothes, and each time the pause got longer. Eventually he stopped completely.

As Jenny sheathed her knife, she looked up at Kurt. She liked the silence, but it had grown a bit too deep. She got up, went to the window. Kurt backed away, shifting his stare to the ceiling. Jenny stood where he had been. Kurt fell over his trunk. She hunched down a bit, and followed his former stare. Kurt got up and crept to the door.

“Let’s see…there’s the bath house, the house, there’s Abby’s room, and she’s…KURT!”

Kurt had disappeared.

Jenny ran for the door, opened it, and saw nothing but a cloud of dust.

“That boy. Definitely one of Cal’s friends.”