Fair Land, Fair Land (24 page)

"
Where the hell you been? In a hole? Don't you
know the country"s at war, south against north?"

Summers said, "Sure. Even where we was we picked
up some things. But it"s a far piece away and come to us like an
echo. Slaves or no slaves, that's the stickin' point, way we heerd."

"
You could say it started there, I s'pose, but
now the south's broken off from the union."

"We heerd that, too."

"That's our right, ain't it? To secede? We got
our own president and officers and way of livin'. Don't tell me
that's not our right."

"Not tellin' you anything," Summers said.
"How's the war comin'?"

"
You can't tell, not out here. Seesaw, I would
say. I was took prisoner early and to get out of that stinkin' prison
I promised not to fight anymore."

"
Looks like you done busted that promise,"
Higgins said.

"
Not to fight in the army, I promised. They call
them like me galvanized Yanks."

"
This camp's split, huh?" Summers asked.

"Split all to hell. It's gold that holds it
together. I got a good-payin' claim my own self. Buy you a drink?"

"Obliged, but I reckon not. No offense and glad
to hear your side of it. Too bad, though, Americans fightin'
Americans."

The man nodded, unoffended. "It's them union,
abolitionist bastards forced us to it."

He went off for the drink he had mentioned.

"
I swear, it looks like we don't know nothin'
much," Higgins said. "A big war, and us only hearin' the
littles of it."

"
Just so it don't reach out to us. Men fight and
die and both sides dead right to their thinkin', and a man 1ookin'
square at things can't make up his mind. Only sure thing is that the
side that loses is more'n ever set in its notions."

They lazed on until a man in a black business suit
stopped them. He had a trimmed beard and looked like a Dutchman
Higgins once knew.

Looking at Summers in his buckskins, he asked, "You
be a hunter, yah?"

"
I been known to shoot."

The man gave his name, but Higgins couldn't catch all
of it. It was Con something or other.

"
I have butcher shop," the man went on.
"Sell meat, you know." He shook his head. "Meat.
Sometimes I get the old ox, up from the Oregon Trail. Sometimes I get
longhorns, and the meat be as tough as the horn. No good, but I sell
it."

Summers nodded.

"
If I get deer, if I get elk, maybe buffalo, I
pay good."

Summers said, " 'Pears to me this country's
pretty well hunted out, or scared out."

"
Not so. Nobody hunts but for gold. A good
hunter find plenty."

"
Maybe."

"
I pay twenty-five dollars in good dust for a
deer, forty for an elk, and for a buffalo — " He spread his
hands wide.

"
Antelope?"

"
Fifteen for that little meat. You bring them
in, gutted is all, and I give you gold, fair weight, on the spot."

"
I might short you on deer liver."

"
AlI right. All right. You hunt for me?"

"
I'll give it a try. Name"s Dick Summers."

Con wrung Summers' hand before he walked on.

"
Hard work, this job-huntin'," Higgins
said.

"
We maybe can do all right."

"
Figure me out, Dick. I got an idee of my own."
He wasn't ready to say what his idea was — to sing and play for the
miners, who might feel like putting a little something in his hat.

29

SUMMERS called out, "Meat. Here's your meat."

He had pulled up in back of the butcher shop. His
pack horses carried two deer and one elk, canvas-wrapped against the
flies. A couple of curious men and three dogs had followed him at
some distance.

The butcher came out of the shop. He said, "By
Gott, what you have?"

"
Two deer, one elk. Meat's still sweet."

It was. He hadn't given it time to sour, and now he
felt on him the drag of the long ride. "Hard huntin'," he
said as he slid from his horse.

The butcher was working with the canvases. Summers
went to help him, standing his rifle against the back of the
building. The butcher, his apron bloodier than when he came out,
said,

"
Meat not shot up, by Gott." He was looking
at the two deer carcasses, now unwrapped.

"One hole is all." The man's eyes went from
the deer, to Summers, to the standing rifle. "That old iron
shoot goot, yah?"

"
Good enough."

"
Goot for the goot eye." The man smiled. He
kicked at a dog that had come too close. The two curious men now
stood near. One of them said, "I can't believe my damn eyes,
Con. Fresh meat and tender to boot. Last chunk you sold me bounced my
jaw out of place. Save me a piece, will you?"

"
How much?"

"
Say five pounds. How much you chargin'?"

The butcher shrugged. "How I know so soon? It be
a bargain."

The second man said, "Same for me, Con."

Con turned to Summers. "Must hurry. It all be
sold before I cut it up."

A young man, a boy, had come out of the shop. The
butcher turned on him. "Gott damn you, Hans. Help. What you do
in there? Yust dream?"

The unwrapped carcasses lay on the canvases that had
covered them. The butcher, helped a little by the boy, started
skinning.

"
You want me to, I can give you a hand,"
Summers said. Con clapped a hand to his forehead. It left a blotch of
blood there.

"
I forget, all the time forget. Pay you want
now."

"
Not for helpin."

He got out his Green River knife. It was old but
sharper than when it was new. Watching for a moment, Con said, "See,
Hans. Learn, boy. This man be a skinner."

An hour later they carried the skinned meat inside,
laying a deer carcass on a block. Summers washed his hands from a
bucket of muddy water. The butcher wiped his on a soiled rag.

The butcher said, "I cut up for sale, but first
I pay you."

They went into the front of the shop. It held another
block and a rough counter and a gold scale. On the counter were a few
scraps of meat turning black.

"Ninety dollars I make it. Yah?"

"
That's right."

From his pocket Con took out a pouch and began
pouring small nuggets and gold dust on the scale.

"
Hold on," Summers said. "What do I
carry it in?"

"
You have not the poke, like this in my hand?"

"Never thought I'd need one."

"
Everybody have one." The scales balanced,
but Con added an extra pinch. "For good measure. You want me to
keep, then? You trust me? Ask any man."

"
I'll get it the next time."

"
Goot. You keep me in meat, yes?"

"
Fur as I can."

It had been a long way to meat and a long way back.
On these open hills and wide valleys, game could spot a man a long
way from the reach of a rifle. No trees to speak of and few watering
places, so that wildlife was far-ranging and, knowing the ways of
man, spooky. He had found a spring with a patch of growth on its
borders and had lain there unmoving, while the sun came up and arched
over and hid behind the hills. Flies buzzed around him, the damn deer
flies that came straight on and bit before a body could slap, if he
dared to slap while playing dead, and mosquitoes hummed for a landing
place, their little needles ready for action. But deer came, as
expected, and one elk, and the live deer took off after one shot and
were out of range before he could reload, and then there was waiting
again.
 
He felt his muscles hang
slack, as if ready to drop off the bone, and he yawned as he turned
away. Tomorrow he would rest. He led the horses to water and let them
drink and then from his saddle pulled the string up the hill. They
were tired, too, not so much from work as from standing and fighting
the flies. Only mosquitoes bothered them now that the sun was about
down.

Pretty soon the miners would be knocking off work and
tramping the street, looking for excitement and maybe finding fight
in a bottle, or maybe taking the edge off, thanks to a whore. There
were bound to be some, a few, about. There always were where men
gathered. The lights down below were coming on, as feeble as candle
gleams.

Teal Eye and Lije ran out to meet him. Seeing the
bloody canvases, Teal Eye said, "Where is meat?"

"
I done sold it."

"
We go hungry then," she said, not as if
really believing.

"
Deer livers in my saddle bags. Good enough for
you?"

She thumbed him in the ribs. "Me, I should know.
Lije, you take the horses. Your papa tired."

Nocansee walked up, not stumbling, "How the big
hunter?

I smell deer and what — elk?"

"
No keepin' secrets from you," Summers
answered and tapped the boy's shoulder.

Higgins lounged up, trailed by his woman. "Trust
you to bring home the bacon."

The women began taking the wrapped livers from the
saddle bags, and Lije was lifting the gear from the horses.

"Man who brings home the bacon has a right to a
drink," Higgins went on.

"
Camp was dry, last time I seen it."

"
They sell whiskey down in the big city. Makes a
man wonder where's the most money, in mines or in barrels."

They sat and drank, taking it easy, while the women
cooked.

"
Made out pretty good, did you?" Higgins
said.

"
Ninety dollars' worth."

"
I call that more'n fair."

"
Hard-earned money."

Higgins drank. "I found out one thing. Gold or
gold dust is the only money passed hereabouts. So a man needs what
they call a poke."

"
I found that out already."

"
What you d0n't know is the women made us one
each, drawstrings and all. Better'n most, too, bein' beaded."

"
The butcher's holdin' my dust for me."

"
I'll have some to put in mine." Higgins'
broken mouth smiled. "I got me a job."

"
What? Good one?"

"
Startin' tonight. You're so tired you ain't
noticed how I was dandied up." Now Summers took note that his
buckskins had been cleaned and brushed, his hair fresh-washed and
braided and tied with ribbons.

"
Where's the ball?"

"
At first I thought I'd put out a felt hat,
crown down, but dust wouldn't pour good from felt. It would stick
and, first thing you know, someone would try pannin' the hat. So I"m
takin' a tin cup."

"
I'm beginnin' to track."

"
The cup and my fiddle. I'm singin' for my
supper."

"
Where at?"

"That saloon with the boardwalk. It's called the
Here's Howdy."

"
You'll get sick, breathin' that air. It
stinks."

"
I can stand 'er, but I know. Spilled beer and
whiskey. Men smellin' rank. And them shithouses. The Indians knowed
better, scatterin' it around instead of pilin' it up."

"
What's the pay?"

"
N0thin'. Only what the boys want to put in the
cup. I figure I can sing 'em open-handed. Worth a try, anyhow. Now I
got to eat and be goin'."

The last Summers saw of him that night was the bony
figure, fiddle and tin cup in hand, walking down the long grade
toward the lights.

30

SUMMERS said to Teal Eye, "I'm oneasy in my
mind."

They sat in the starshine outside the tepee. Nocansee
was nearby, listening. He was a quiet boy — or man — and what
went on in his head he didn't tell. Lije had gone to bed. Little
Wing, likely hearing the talk, came up and sat down.

"
He will be all right," Teal Eye answered.

"
Like I told him, it"s a tomfool thing,
carryin' his poke around."

"
He is proud of it like a little boy,"
Little Wing said. "Proud to have money. Proud because he can pay
debt to you."

"
That poke's a fair weight, comin' full."

"
Yours, too," Teal Eye told him. "You
brought in the big buffalo."

"
I go armed. All Hig's got is his fiddle, his
fiddle and that poke that somebody'll want. He thinks everyone loves
him. But come a fight between love and gold, gold wins. That's what I
tried to get into his head."

Little Wing said, "It is just this one more time
he sings. He said it to all."

"
That's just it." Summers scratched
himself. More damn places itched. Far off a wolf howled, sounding
lonesome as the last of the pack. The stars shone brighter and
cleaner than the lights of the town.