Read Online Son of the Hawk by Charles G. West - Free Book Online
Authors: Charles G. West
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Luke Austen, standing guard over her bath. The picture was still in her mind when she fell asleep.
C HAPTER 4
T he scouts were out early the next morning—Buck to the east, along the river—Bull Hump to the west. By the time the troop was ready to move out, both scouts had returned to camp to report no sign of any Indian activity anywhere. When Lieutenant Austen gave the order, “To horse!” Buck indicated the line of march, pointing toward a line of low hills to the northwest. Since Buck didn’t know what valley Bull Hump had in mind where all this gold was supposed to be just laying around waiting to be picked up, it was decided that Buck would lead the troop as far as Bitter Water. It was Bull Hump’s suggestion. Explaining that he had been to the valley only once himself, Bull Hump preferred to be free to scout on ahead of the troops to make sure he could find the landmarks that would take him to the right valley.
“That sounds all right to me,” Luke said, upon hearing the scout’s proposal. “What do you think, Mr. Ransom?”
“Hell, it don’t make no difference to me,” Buck replied. “I can sure take you to Bitter Water. If he don’t git lost, we’ll meet him there.” The hint of sarcasm was not lost on Luke, but in case it was, Buck added, “I can’t wait to see that valley with the gold laying all over the ground. We can all go back rich men.”
Bull Hump sat on his horse, waiting. If Buck’s commentsbothered him, it didn’t show on his expressionless face. When Luke nodded to him, he immediately wheeled his pony and galloped away. They watched him for a few moments, then Luke put the column in motion with a wave of his hand. Buck backed his horse a few yards and watched the troops start out before moving out in front.
“Good morning, Mr. Ransom,” Annie Farrior called out as Buck rode by. “How’s the toothache this morning?”
“It don’t hurt a’tall, ma’am. I’m much obliged.” He tipped his hat, then nodded to Robert Dimeron, who was riding beside Annie.
It took most of the day to reach Bitter Water due to the roughness of the terrain and the ridges that had to be crossed. When they reached the little creek in the middle of the afternoon, Luke saw at once why Buck had doubted the existence of any gold in the dark, slowly moving water. Unlike most of the mountain streams, Bitter Water flowed from an opening in the side of a hill, making its way leisurely down through a belt of pine trees. The bed of the stream was almost black, no doubt caused by the minerals that washed out of the hill. The resulting odor of the water was probably the origin of the stream’s name.
When the column pulled up, Buck was sitting there waiting for them. After Luke gave the order to dismount, Buck motioned him over to where he stood. “Damned if them fellers weren’t here,” he said, pointing to the remains of a campfire. “I didn’t really expect them to even find this place.”
“How do you know it was them, and not an Indian hunting party?” Luke questioned.
“Tracks,” Buck said, his attitude suggesting that the answer to Luke’s question was fairly obvious. He swung his arm around from side to side. “Look aroundyou. Them’s shod horses and mules, about a dozen or more of ’em, I expect.”
Luke nodded, realizing he should have noticed that himself. It was a good sign, however, for it meant that they were at least on the trail of the four white men. Then a thought crossed his mind, and looking around him, he asked, “Where’s Bull Hump?”
Buck shook his head. “Ain’t seen him all day, not since he rode out this morning.”
Luke pushed his hat back and scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, we’ve still got some daylight left, but I expect we’d better wait here for him. You think he can find that valley he was talking about?”
Buck shrugged. “I don’t know—maybe.” Buck had his doubts. It had been a while since Buck had ridden this part of the country,
C HAPTER 4
T he scouts were out early the next morning—Buck to the east, along the river—Bull Hump to the west. By the time the troop was ready to move out, both scouts had returned to camp to report no sign of any Indian activity anywhere. When Lieutenant Austen gave the order, “To horse!” Buck indicated the line of march, pointing toward a line of low hills to the northwest. Since Buck didn’t know what valley Bull Hump had in mind where all this gold was supposed to be just laying around waiting to be picked up, it was decided that Buck would lead the troop as far as Bitter Water. It was Bull Hump’s suggestion. Explaining that he had been to the valley only once himself, Bull Hump preferred to be free to scout on ahead of the troops to make sure he could find the landmarks that would take him to the right valley.
“That sounds all right to me,” Luke said, upon hearing the scout’s proposal. “What do you think, Mr. Ransom?”
“Hell, it don’t make no difference to me,” Buck replied. “I can sure take you to Bitter Water. If he don’t git lost, we’ll meet him there.” The hint of sarcasm was not lost on Luke, but in case it was, Buck added, “I can’t wait to see that valley with the gold laying all over the ground. We can all go back rich men.”
Bull Hump sat on his horse, waiting. If Buck’s commentsbothered him, it didn’t show on his expressionless face. When Luke nodded to him, he immediately wheeled his pony and galloped away. They watched him for a few moments, then Luke put the column in motion with a wave of his hand. Buck backed his horse a few yards and watched the troops start out before moving out in front.
“Good morning, Mr. Ransom,” Annie Farrior called out as Buck rode by. “How’s the toothache this morning?”
“It don’t hurt a’tall, ma’am. I’m much obliged.” He tipped his hat, then nodded to Robert Dimeron, who was riding beside Annie.
It took most of the day to reach Bitter Water due to the roughness of the terrain and the ridges that had to be crossed. When they reached the little creek in the middle of the afternoon, Luke saw at once why Buck had doubted the existence of any gold in the dark, slowly moving water. Unlike most of the mountain streams, Bitter Water flowed from an opening in the side of a hill, making its way leisurely down through a belt of pine trees. The bed of the stream was almost black, no doubt caused by the minerals that washed out of the hill. The resulting odor of the water was probably the origin of the stream’s name.
When the column pulled up, Buck was sitting there waiting for them. After Luke gave the order to dismount, Buck motioned him over to where he stood. “Damned if them fellers weren’t here,” he said, pointing to the remains of a campfire. “I didn’t really expect them to even find this place.”
“How do you know it was them, and not an Indian hunting party?” Luke questioned.
“Tracks,” Buck said, his attitude suggesting that the answer to Luke’s question was fairly obvious. He swung his arm around from side to side. “Look aroundyou. Them’s shod horses and mules, about a dozen or more of ’em, I expect.”
Luke nodded, realizing he should have noticed that himself. It was a good sign, however, for it meant that they were at least on the trail of the four white men. Then a thought crossed his mind, and looking around him, he asked, “Where’s Bull Hump?”
Buck shook his head. “Ain’t seen him all day, not since he rode out this morning.”
Luke pushed his hat back and scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, we’ve still got some daylight left, but I expect we’d better wait here for him. You think he can find that valley he was talking about?”
Buck shrugged. “I don’t know—maybe.” Buck had his doubts. It had been a while since Buck had ridden this part of the country,
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