Gold

Chapter 4

Trail boss Chris Rigby had almost as much to lose as the McDonalds if the ranch went bust. He had been working for Andrew McDonald for six years and was more like a partner in the business than an employee. McDonald had told him how bad things had become and Rigby was now sweating blood at the prospect of having to start over again as a lowly cowboy; always assuming that he could even find a job as such; which was by no means certain with the current state of the American economy. It had been Rigby who led the group of men wearing spook masks to frighten the Hogans into giving up their land. That had failed though and now Chris Rigby was more or less resigned to leaving in a few weeks and making his own way again. It was not an enticing prospect. So it was that when McDonald approached him, on the afternoon that Caleb Hogan was buried, with a plan that could save them all; Rigby listened attentively.

     The first thing Chris Rigby said, before his boss had got out more than a couple of sentences, was, ‘I’ll have no part in harming a child and that’s flat.’

     ‘Lord a mercy,’ exclaimed Andrew McDonald, ‘That what you think of me after all the years we known each other, Chris? Nobody’s going to get hurt, least of all a child.’

     ‘What’s the scheme then?’

     As Andrew McDonald explained it, the whole thing was no more than a bit of a lark, in which they entertained a child for a few days on the ranch and while the little girl was being cosseted and petted there, her mother would be prey to all many of unfounded fears and anxieties; the result of which would be that she would sign over the land to McDonald, while making a right good sum to set up her and her little ones elsewhere. It was a hare-brained enough plan and it is a sign of how desperate the two men where that they should even consider an idea so likely to lead to unforeseen difficulties. But there it was, by the time the sun had set that day, Chris Rigby, Andrew McDonald and his wife had positively engaged to snatch Elizabeth Hogan and effectively hold her to ransom.

                                                        ***

     Melanie was no sort of fool and it didn’t take her all that long to figure out the play, once she had been up on the bluff and had a good look around. Having correctly identified the rocky, thirty acres as being at the heart of the matter, narrowed the field considerably. It wasn’t hard to guess that there must be some mineral deposit there that the McDonalds wanted and that in turn really only meant one of two things; silver or gold. The sun was declining and casting its rays into various little corners of the landscape which were not in general illuminated, save at that time of day. It was this which provided an early resolution to the conundrum.

     The only point of note on the rocky slopes of the bluff was the spring of fresh water which emerged from a crevice in one of the low cliff-faces. This little torrent then bounded along a channel, which it had cut over the millennia in the shale, before running into the grassland which formed the chief part of the Hogan’s land. It was as she approached the point where the water sprang from the ground that Melanie saw a glint of something flashing in the westering rays of the sun. For a moment, she thought that her eyes had deceived her, but then, as she moved her head from side to side, she saw it again; a brilliant gleam, as though a spark of light lay on the bed of the stream.

     Keeping her fixed upon the location where the flash of light had come from, Melanie walked slowly forward, until she was at the bank of the little stream. There, among the pebbles and rocks, she could just see a faint gleam, which must have been what had reflected the sunlight. She paddled across the water, which was less than a foot in depth and reached down; plucking up a tiny piece of shiny metal, no greater in size than a grain of rice. She could see at once what it was and immediately understood the whole of what had befallen her and her family over the course of the last twenty-four hours. Her mouth set in a grim line as she realised that all this misery had been caused by nothing more than gold fever. Well, she thought to herself, we’ll just see if I can’t bring home to those McDonalds the wickedness of what they have done and all for the sake of some cold metal. She turned back towards the house and strode angrily forward.

                                                        ***

     Every so often in life, some projected plan goes better than one could ever dream of and the whole enterprise flows so smoothly that one feels that success was preordained. That’s how it was when Andrew and Josephine McDonald went out with Chris Bridges that night to try and get hold of Elizabeth Hogan, to use her as a bargaining chip in their negotiations with the child’s mother.

      The sanitary arrangements of the Hogan family were simple and crude. They had chamber-pots for use at night and a latrine pit, dug away from the house, which was used during the hours of daylight. This was no more than a hole in the ground, shielded from view by a canvas screen; supported by a few stout posts. As it filled, a new pit would be dug and the old one covered over and abandoned. Elizabeth hated to make water in the presence of her family, even when they were sleeping, and so was in the habit of going out to the latrine at back of the house, even in the dead of night. So it was that at about two in the morning, about eight hours after Melanie Hogan had worked out what had brought about the death of her husband, a slight, white-clad figure could be seen in the moonlight; trudging from the Hogans’ soddie towards the latrine pit.

     The original plan had been for the three misguided and desperate fools to creep into the house in the dark and seize the little girl; if necessary tying up the mother and brother. They had brought the spook masks with them, to disguise their identities. As it was though, having left their mounts a fair way from the house, the three of them were actually gathered at the side of the building, when the door opened and Elizabeth Hogan trotted off in the direction of the privy. They could scarcely believe their luck. It was like they’d gone hunting and the prey had consented to walk right up and offer itself to their guns.

     One the child was out of sight, concealed by the canvas screen, the three of them walked briskly towards their target. It would obviously be better if any species of commotion took place as far from the house as could be. Josephine McDonald in especial had a very clear and uncomfortable memory of the flinty-eyed woman who had drawn down on her with that scattergun. She had no wish to repeat the experience. If the present enterprise could be undertaken quietly, without bringing the child’s mother into the action; that would suit Josephine right down to the ground.

      Elizabeth was plainly surprised to find three adults waiting for her after she had answered her call of nature. There was no easy of pleasant way of accomplishing this part of the process and so Andrew McDonald settled for doing it as swiftly as he might. He went forward and swept up the child in his arms. She began to cry, but he clamped a hand over her mouth; not viciously, but with just sufficient force to suppress any noise. Then he went off at a loping run towards where the horses had been left. The other two followed him, his wife first stooping and leaving a little bundle where it must be seen by anybody making for the privy.

     In a half-hour, they were all of them back at the ranch and Josephine had taken the frightened child to sleep in a room with her. They figured that not only would such a course of action be more fitting for a girl-child, it would serve to soothe and allay the child’s fears. Josephine McAndrew said, ‘You need not be afraid of us, Elizabeth. We want your mother to do something for us, something which will be to her advantage. Yours too. Then, soon as it’s done, why you can go home. You only have to spend the night here and we expect to hear from your Ma by the morning. You’ll see, it will be fine.’

     The little girl said nothing, but stared at Josephine McAndrew with an inscrutable look on her face, which the other found disconcerting. She said, ‘Well, what does that look mean, missy?’

     For a second or two, she thought that Elizabeth was not minded to answer, but then she said quietly, but very distinctly, ‘You wait ‘til my ma comes for me. You’ll wish you’d never been born.’

      For a moment, Josephine thought that her ears had deceived her, but the expression on Elizabeth Hogan’s face was as serious as could be. She was looking at the woman as though almost in pity; as at one who does not know the peril she is in. Josephine shivered, as though a goose had walked over her grave. Then she said briskly, ‘There’ll be no cause for any unpleasantness. Just hop into bed like a good girl and I’ll sleep in this other bed, see? It’ll be fine.’

                                                            ***

      In fact, the whole business could even at that point have passed off without any more bloodshed and harm; but it was not to be. They say that from little acorns mighty oak trees grow and the truth of this old adage was to be amply demonstrated in the coming weeks as Andrew McDonald’s simple desire for enough gold to pay off the mortgage on his property spiralled out of control and precipitated a series of bloody battles, which formed a coda to the Sioux uprising of the previous year.

     By the privy, Josephine McDonald had deposited a parcel containing the seven hundred and fifty dollars which was all that they could raise; along with a land contract which needed only Melanie’s signature to make it legally binding. The effect of this would be to transfer ownership of the whole hundred and sixty acres to the McDonalds, in exchange for the sum of seven hundred and fifty dollars. It was hardly necessary to spell out that the return of her child was also contingent upon the signing of this document. From all that the McDonald’s could see, this was a generous enough deal. Without a grown man to work the land, there was no prospect of the homestead being developed and so Melanie Hogan and her children would have to leave in any case. This way, they left with a tidy sum of cash money as well. How could anybody refuse such an offer? The logic was irrefutable and yet when she rose the night following her daughter’s abduction, settling for having her child back in return for vacating the land was not at all the first idea which sprang to Melanie Hogan’s mind.

     It was Zacharia who first realised that Betty was missing. He was up at about dawn and went out back to make water. The little bundle lying near the latrine-pit puzzled him greatly and he could not help but open it; discovering what looked to him to be a king’s ransom in bills. He knew at once that something was amiss and ran back to the house to wake his mother. It was then that they found that young Elizabeth was not in her bed. His mother said, ‘Run to the privy and check that she’s not fainted there or something.’

     ‘She not there, Ma,’ said Zac, when he returned, ‘There’s not a sign of her to be seen. What shall we do?’

     While her son had run to check if his sister was out back, maybe having fallen asleep or passed out, Melanie had unfolded the sheet of paper which was attached to the parcel of bills. As soon as she read it, everything became clear to her. It was at this point that, according to the McDonalds’ reckoning, she would throw in her hand and do as they wanted her to. They had left two things out of their calculations though. In the first instant, having seen her husband gunned down in front of her not forty-eight hours earlier, Melanie Hogan was convinced that she had to do with an utterly ruthless bunch of killers who would murder her child at the drop of a hat. She could not be expected to know that Caleb’s murder was purely accidental and that neither of the McDonalds would dream of harming anybody; let alone an innocent child. She believed, with some reason, that her daughter was in the hands of a gang of men who would stick at nothing.

     The second factor which the McDonalds had not accounted for was that Melanie was partly Indian and had spent long enough among the Sioux during her formative years to learn that you never gave way to a threat, because that always ended badly. No matter how hard or protracted the struggle, if somebody tried to force you to do something under a threat; why, you fought back any way you knew how.

     So it was that when once she had weighed and measured all that she could figure out about the disappearance of her daughter, Melanie decided that there was nothing for it but to fight and fight hard. Any other course of action might lead folk to regard her as weak and in that case, they might actually harm Elizabeth. Even signing that wretched document might not be enough. She might sign it and then they would do away with her child anyway; maybe just to dispose of the evidence of what they had done and to avoid leaving a witness alive.

     ‘We need to have a good breakfast,’ said Melanie to her son, ‘You’re going on a little errand for me.’

     ‘An errand? What you mean riding into town? What about Betty?’

     ‘This is for Betty. We need help to deal with this.’

     ‘You mean the law?’

     ‘No, I mean my kin. There’s a heap of ‘em live about fifteen, maybe twenty miles from here.’

     Zac stared at his mother in surprise. ‘You got folks living that close? How come we never seen them?’

     ‘That don’t signify. I told you, your Pa, he didn’t want you and your sister mixing with that side of my family. Maybe he was right and maybe not. That don’t matter. What matters now is getting some people here fast to help us free the child.’

    ‘You want I should take the mare and ride wherever ‘tis?’

    ‘That’s the idea. Listen, it’s an easy enough ride and you should be there before midday. You’ve to ride north to the Niobrara River. You cross it at the ford, you know where I mean?’

     ‘Sure I do.’

     ‘Well then, once you’ve crossed it, you turn east, that’s heading towards where the sun rises, and just ride along, ‘side the river. After ten or twelve miles, you’ll come to what they call the Great Sioux Reservation. That part, where first you arrive, is where the Santee Sioux have their villages. Leastways, that’s what the white men call them. They calls themselves the Isanyathi. When you get there, you’ve to find the chief, Tamela Pashme. He’s my uncle.’

     ‘Your uncle? What can you mean?’

     ‘We don’t have time for this. I told you yesterday, if you recollect, that my mother was born and raised with the Sioux? She went off with my granma and lived with the white folk, but her brother never did. He was the chief’s son, the old chief, Wabasha. He’s your kin as well, and you’d do well to remember it. Now eat, while I  get on and tack up the horse. You tell my uncle everything and tell him we need his help desperate sore.’

                                                           ***

     Dave Jackson was waiting for everybody to leave the ranch in the early morning, so that he could move in and steal whatever he could lay his hands on. He wasn’t worried about just what that might be, whether it was cash money or jewellery, firearms or anything else which could be sold to provide him with a little money. It was after the hands had left for work and only the McDonalds and their trail boss were left, that Jackson saw an amazing sight. It was Chris Rigby, walking across the yard; hand in hand with a young boy. At least, he assumed that it was a boy, for the slight figure was clad in pants and a shirt. Looking closer though, he saw that the hair was long and braided; which suggested that it might really be a girl-child. Not that it mattered which, Here was a chance to do an ill turn to the McDonalds and get his own back for Andrew McDonald’s summary dismissal of him the day before.  More than that, this might also be what he needed to bring him a tidy sum of money. The day was looking up.

                                                    ***

     As soon as Josephine McDonald woke, she glanced at once over to the other bed and was relieved to find that the child was just laying there, looking up at the ceiling. Climbing out of bed, Josephine went over to a dresser and, opening a drawer, she selected some clothes. Elizabeth said, ‘Whose room is this?’

     ‘It was my son’s.’ replied the other, shortly.

     ‘Is he grown up now?’

     ‘No, he never growed up. Here, you can’t walk around in your nightgown. See if these clothes’ll fit you.’

    The child shoed no inclination to get dressed immediately, saying, ‘He never grew up? You mean he…?’

     ‘Yes, he died. He was about your age. Here, there’s some pants and a shirt. If they don’t fit you, well it’ll only be for a short spell. Your Ma will be coming by soon enough and taking you back home again. Come, be a good girl and get dressed. We can have some breakfast.’

     Although she was not a sentimental woman, Josephine had left Billy’s room just as it had been on the day of his death, eleven years ago. From time to time, she came in here and just sat and thought about her son. The complications after his birth had meant that there would be no more children and so her firstborn and only child meant more to her than anything in the world. When he took ill with the ague and died after a short illness, at just twelve years of age, Josephine had thought that her entire world would come to an end. That’s not really how it works though; it is only in cheap novelettes that folk die of grief.

     As Elizabeth removed her nightgown and tried on Billy’s clothes, Josephine McDonald looked away, allowing the girl some modesty. Her eyes fell on the dresser, where a row of yellow-jacketed Tauchnitz editions of various classic novels resided. Billy had been a great one for reading; proper books, that is. No dime novels for him! Where he had got his brains was something of a mystery, for she and her husband had little in the way of formal education. Still, there it was. The child had been sharp as a lancet and already, before his thirteenth birthday, his parents were thinking about where he would eventually go to college. It was the unbearable thought of leaving the home where her son had been raised which, as much as anything, caused Josephine to take such extreme measures to hang on to the place.

     ‘You look sad,’ said Elizabeth, who was now dressed, ‘Are you thinking about your boy?’

     ‘I was, yes. Those britches are a little on the long side. Here, let me roll them up for you.’ She knelt at the girl’s feet and fiddled with the pants’ legs until they looked a little more presentable. ‘There,’ she said, ‘That’s better. I guess you’ll be wanting something to eat?’

     At that moment, there came a knock on the door. Chris Rigby poked his head around the door and said, ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but your husband begs the favour of a word before he rides down to see to some work.’

     Josephine turned to the little girl and said, ‘Listen honey, I have to go and see about something. Go with this young man and he’ll see you fed and watered.’

     Chris smiled at Elizabeth and said, ‘Why, I took you for a boy! Are you really a girl?’ The child smiled at him. For all that it had been a disconcerting experience to be plucked from her home in the middle of the night, she seemed to sense that none of those at the ranch meant her any harm and they were so agreeable towards her that the episode had turned into something of an adventure. It had also served to take her mind, however temporarily from the bereavement which she had suffered. She went off with Chris Rigby, who led her by the hand across the yard, while Josephine McDonald went off in search of her husband.

***

     Dave Jackson’s first thought on catching sight of the child was that this must be some relative of the McDonalds. No doubt some little nephew or niece that they were fond of; although he did not recollect ever seeing a little’un about the place or hearing tell of any such family member. Still, what else could this be? Here was the perfect way to be revenged upon his former boss. What if he snatched and harmed this child? Surely that would cause grief to the McDonalds? Hot on the heels of this thought, came another. Away over in the Indian Nations, there were cat-houses where young girls were at a very high premium. He had availed himself of the services of such places in the past. He seemed to recall that there was a constant desire for girls who had never before lain with a man. The rumour was that fabulous sums of money changed hand for such commodities. Here, unless his eyes played him false, was a little girl who could fetch a good amount in this trade.

     From what Jackson could see, there was nobody else about now; other than the McDonalds, Jeff Rigby and the child. Rigby had taken the girl to the hut near the cabins, which served as a canteen for the ranch. All he need do was to take her and ride hell for leather west until he reached the territories.

     Although they were currently in the doldrums as far as work went, the McDonalds’ ranch was built to accommodate dozens of men when it was working at full capacity. Four bunkhouses contained cots for twenty men each and opposite them was a low building with a stove and trestle tables, where the cowboys could eat. It was to this building that the trail boss took little Elizabeth Hogan that morning. She was a perky little thing, he thought, as he got her to sit down while he stirred up the fire in the stove and asked, ‘Pancakes alright for you? You allowed coffee?’

     ‘Of course I’m allowed coffee! I’m nearly twelve.’

     Rigby smiled. Entertaining a little girl in this way was certainly a change from his usual duties. He felt called upon to offer some slight apology for seizing this child the night before and said, ‘I’m right sorry about detaining you like this. You must think we’re a regular set of villains.’

     ‘Oh no,’ said Elizabeth seriously, ‘You all seem right nice. That lady’s very sad, ain’t she?’

     ‘Mrs McDonald?’ asked Rigby in surprise. He’d had the rough edge of Josephine McDonald’s tongue too often in the past to have noticed any sadness about her. He said vaguely, ‘It may be so.’  He turned to busy himself with preparing breakfast for the guest and so had his back to the door when Dave Jackson entered quietly.

     Elizabeth had no reason to suspect that the man who walked through the door was anything other than somebody else working on the ranch. She nodded politely to him and watched as he walked across the room towards Chris Rigby; who was clattering about with pans, which masked the sound of Jackson’s footsteps. When he reached the man setting a pan on the stove, in readiness for making pancakes, Jackson drew a wickedly sharp knife from a sheath which was attached to his belt at the back, out of sight under his jacket. Then he said, ‘Hey, Rigby!’

     When the trail boss turned round in surprise, Jackson plunged the knife between Rigby’s ribs, on the left-hand side. For a moment, there was a look of anger in his victim’s face, as though he were about to fight back or perhaps pluck out the knife. When a man’s heart has been carved nearly in half though, there is little to be done and so without further ado; Chris Rigby dropped to the floor and died. The girl witnessed all this without much realising what was going on. She had never seen any deliberate act of violence in the whole course of her life and thought for a moment that the men were just fooling around. It was not until the nice man who offered to make her pancakes fell down on the floor that she knew that something terrible had happened. At that point, she got to her feet and made for the door, but Jackson was after her in a flash, saying in a soft, but deadly voice, ‘Oh no you don’t!’

     Sometimes in nightmares, Elizabeth Hogan had been rooted to the spot in the face of some oncoming terror and when she had tried to scream, only an inaudible, strangled noise had been able to escape from her throat. She felt exactly the same now, because she wanted to scream, was trying to scream, but nothing came out. She was at that level of terror that has an almost paralysing effect on a body. It was quite a different feeling from the previous night, when those three figures had appeared out of nowhere. She had somehow sensed on that occasion that these were not bad people and that had ameliorated the fear which had gripped her. Now, the case was wholly altered. She knew that she was in the presence of evil and the knowledge was so shockingly frightening, that there was nothing she could say or do.

     Grabbing the girl with one hand, Jackson replaced the gory, dripping knife in its sheath with the other and then drew the pistol at his hip; cocking it with his thumb as he did so. A quick glance out of the door assured him that there was nobody around. It would have been all the worse for that person, if there had been. He said quietly to the child whose arm he was gripping tightly, ‘You make so much as a peep and it’s all up with you, you hear what I tell you? You cry out and before God, I’ll cut out your tongue.’

     Sweeping the terrified child up into his arms, Dave Jackson set off at an easy run; up the slope to the trees where his horse was tethered. He felt a savage exultation, for he had surely had his own back on that Andrew McDonald. Not only had he deprived him of a first-class trail boss, he had also carried away a child who was probably a favoured relative of the McDonalds. Best of all, he now had his road stake. Unless he was very much mistaken, this little girl would fetch several hundred dollars once he delivered her to one of the larger brothels in the Indian Territories.