“James, do you recognize this fella?” Duke asked then. He had been looking at the less damaged of the two bodies.
“Yeah,” James said. “Yeah, I do recognize him. He’s one of the ones we saw in the bar.”
“Yes, his name was Murphy, I think.”
“Yankee bastard, serves him right,” John said.
“What do we do now?” Bob asked.
“Now we break camp,” James said. “I don’t think the soldiers we ran into are going to be in any hurry to report to their superiors what just happened here.” He pointed to the two bodies. “But they are going to have to account for these two men soon. So I suggest we get going.”
“What do you mean, get going?” Matthew complained. “Me ’n Mark didn’t even get a chance to go into town.”
“The way things are right now, if you go into town you are likely to stay there,” James said. “Either in jail, or shot down by some other soldiers.”
“Yeah, well, this ain’t no way right,” Matthew complained. “I mean, some folks getting to go into town and some folks not.”
“What are going to do about them two?” Bob asked, nodding toward the two dead soldiers. “Think we should bury them?”
James shook his head. “No. Once the army realizes they are missing, they’ll come looking for them. If we bury them, it’ll make it hard for them to find them.”
“Once they do find them, they’re goin’ to know what happened to them, then they’ll come looking for us,” Matthew Scattergood said.
“That’s true,” James said. “That’s why I want to get out of here now.”
“All right, you heard the man,” Bob said. “Let’s get going.”
“What about breakfast?” Matthew asked.
“What about it?” James replied.
“Well, we ain’t et yet, that’s what about it,” Matthew said, complaining bitterly.
“We’ll eat in the saddle, jerky and water,” James said. “Come on, let’s go. I want to be five miles away from here by the time the sun comes up.”
Fort Benton on the Missouri, Friday, August 1, 1862:
Fort Benton was established by the American Fur Company as a trading post in 1845. Named after Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri, it was at the absolute head of steam navigation on the Missouri River, and the fastest way into the Northwest territories. During the gold rush of 1862, it became an exceptionally busy port.
Landing a riverboat in the shallow waters at Fort Benton required a great deal of teamwork between the captain, leadsman, engine room, and deckhands. The boat had to be maneuvered around sand shoals and over sunken obstacles, all the while maintaining enough power to overcome the powerful current. With the relief valve booming like cannonfire, and the wheel working the water into a muddy frenzy, the River Queen made ready to land.
Angus, Chance, and Percy Butrum stood on the hurricane deck, watching the activity as the boat put in at Fort Benton. It landed by ramming its bow into the bank, then maintained that position by tying a hawser around a tree.
“Ain’t much of a town,” Percy said, looking at the low-lying, gray, rip-sawed buildings scattered along the bank of the river.
“What did you expect? St. Louis?” Angus asked. “We ain’t plannin’ on settlin’ here. All we want is to settle up with Mr. Duke Faglier, then get our hands on some of that gold we’ve been hearin’ about. Once we do that, we can take a boat back East and live high and fine.”
“Don’t forget, there’s still a war goin’ on back East,” Chance said.
“Won’t make no never mind to us, we ain’t goin’ to be a-fightin’ it. And iff’en a body is smart, he can make a lot of money durin’ a war. But you got to have money to make money and that’s why we come out here.”
When the boat crew lowered a gangplank down from the bow to the riverbank, the Butrum brothers were the first passengers off the boat.
“Where do we go now?” Percy asked, scratching his crotch as he stood at the top of the riverbank, looking around at the small gray town.
“What about findin’ us some women?” Chance suggested.
“You see any women here?” Percy asked.
Although the main street of the little town was crowded with people, there was not one woman to be seen.
“I’ll be damned,” Chance said, as if noticing that fact for the first time. “You’re right. There ain’t a woman nowhere.”
“Well, while you two is discussin’ somethin’ that you can’t do nothin’ about, I plan to look into somethin’ I can do somethin’ about,” Angus said. “I’m goin’ to have a drink.”
“Where you reckon a saloon is?” Percy asked.
“Hell, it ought not to be hard to find one. Just follow your nose,” Angus replied.
Finding something to drink wasn’t all that difficult. Every other building, it seemed, was a saloon. With no predetermined purpose in mind, other than to find drink, the Butrums headed toward one of them. A crudely painted sign out front identified the establishment as the “North Star.”
Although it was early afternoon, the saloon was crowded with noisy customers. A piano sat in the back of the saloon, with a sign that read, THIS PIANO WAS BROUGHT UPRIVER FROM ST. LOUIS ABOARD THE RIVERBOAT, MISSOURI MIST. IT IS THE ONLY PIANO IN THE ENTIRE TERRITORY. PLEASE TREAT IT WITH CARE.
Despite the printed plea, the instrument was marked with half a dozen cigar burns and glass-rings, and punctured with three bullet holes.
“Bartender, give me a bottle!” one of the customers said, shouting to be heard above the din. The bartender pulled a bottle from a shelf behind the bar, handed it to the customer, then accepted as payment a pinch of gold dust. Percy watched the operation, then excitedly punched his brother.
“Angus! Did you see how that fella paid for his whiskey?”
“No.”
“With a pinch of gold dust from a bag he’s carryin’,” Percy said.
After Percy’s disclosure, the three brothers began paying more attention to the business going on around them. To their amazement, more than half of all purchases were being made with gold dust.
“Damn!” Angus said. “What they said about findin’ gold up here must be true!”
“Look at that fella over there,” Angus said, pointing to a man at the other end of the bar. His pouch of gold dust was bulging, but that wasn’t the only thing of interest about him. He was also very drunk.
The Butrum brothers watched the drunk until he started outside. They exited the saloon just behind him.
As the drunk staggered down the boardwalk, Angus and Chance followed close behind. In the meantime, Percy ran across the street, then hurried to get ahead of the drunk. Recrossing the street, he started back toward the drunk so that their mark was now between Percy and his two brothers.
“Hey, friend,” Percy said, accosting the drunk as they came together, “could you tell me where the nearest saloon is?”
The drunk chuckled. “Are you blind, mister?” he asked. He made an unsteady wave with his hand. “They are all around here, on both sides of the stre—” That was as far as he got. Angus hit him just behind the ear with the butt of his pistol. The drunk would have fallen, had Chance not caught him. Quickly, the three dragged their victim to a small open space in between the nearest two buildings. Once they had him off the street, Angus reached down to relieve him of his pouch of gold dust.
“I got it!” Angus said, triumphantly.
“How much is there?” Percy asked.
“Enough to buy about anything we want,” Angus replied.
“About the only thing that’s going to buy you boys is some time in jail,” another voice said.
Gasping in surprise at being caught, the three brothers stood up from their victim, and found themselves looking into the barrel of a pistol.