‘What is your thought, brother?’
‘What if the Commodore simply died in his sleep? A pillow over the face, is all.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s the way. And we would have the formula, also.’
‘We would have it, but would not be able to use it for a time.’
‘We could live off the Mayfield stash, plus our savings.’
‘Or we could find a private river and work with the formula anonymously.’
‘It would be a difficult thing to keep hidden.’
‘Difficult but not impossible. We would likely have to bring a few more into the fold. I don’t know how Warm thinks he will be able to dam a river with just the two of them.’
‘Let us return to the moral question,’ I said.
‘The moral question,’ said Charlie. ‘Yes, let’s.’
‘I’ve never much liked Mr. Morris on a personal, man-to-man basis. Or should I say he has never much liked or respected us, which colors my feelings for him. But I will admit to having a certain respect for him.’
‘Yes, I feel the same way. He is honorable. Even with this abandonment of his post he is.’
‘He is that much more honorable because of it, is my way of seeing things. And as for Warm, I can’t help it. I admire him for his intelligence.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Well, I don’t know what else to say.’
‘You would rather not kill them.’
‘That’s what it is. I have been thinking about the last job, where we lost our horses. Do you recall those men we were up against? All they were after was blood and more blood, and it made no difference to them whose it was. They were living just to die. And our role was ironclad the moment we stepped onto their property.’
Charlie paused, remembering. ‘They were a rough bunch, it’s true.’
‘It felt right to me, because whether or not they had wronged the Commodore they were evil men, truly, and they would have killed us if we hadn’t moved first. But these two, Warm and Morris. It would be more like killing children or women.’
Charlie was quiet. He was thinking about the two futures, the immediate and the distant. I had more to tell him but did not interrupt, as I felt I had said enough to make my point clear. I was relieved we had had this talk, and that Charlie was not outwardly opposed to my way of thinking. I was also relieved the bad feelings from San Francisco were abating or had abated. But then we often came about our truces through this kind of clinical discussion.
Chapter 44
Darkness fell before we could locate Warm’s claim, and we camped under the oaks. I doused Tub and he screamed, kicking and bucking; when the pain passed him he lay down on the ground to pant and stare at nothing. His appetite was poor but I still believed he had a good deal of life left in him, that he would soon begin his recuperation. As I drifted away to sleep I watched the treetops bowing and clashing in the wind. I could hear the river but could not place it; one moment I felt it was to the north, another moment I was certain it was to the south. In the morning I discovered it was to the east. We found Warm’s claim after lunch and decided to spend the night there, that Tub might be rested for a full day’s ride, and that Charlie and I might focus ourselves for what lay ahead of us.
The claim was an attractive and comfortable site, and we camped above the river on a grassy sandbank. A small sign posted at the foot of the claim line read: THESE WATERS ARE THE TEMPORARY PROPERTY OF HERMANN KERMIT WARM, AN HONEST MAN ON SPEAKING TERMS WITH MOST EVERY ANGEL IN HEAVEN. THOSE WHO DIP THEIR PANS IN HIS OWN PRIVATE STRETCH WILL FIND THEMSELVES SWARMED, INSULTED, TAPPED WITH SHARP HARPS AND LIKELY LIGHTNING, TOO. Vines were painted elaborately around these words. Warm had taken his time with the project.
Fat trout hung in the current and Charlie shot one in the head for our dinner. Upon receiving the bullet the fish issued a cloud of blood and steered sideways as the current pulled him down river. Charlie waded in and picked the fish up by the tail, flinging it through the air and onto the bank where I was sitting. I gutted and skinned it and fried it in pork fat. It was four or more pounds and we ate all but the head and innards. The thick green grass made for excellent bedding and we both slept well. In the morning a man stood over us, small and grizzled and smiling, a happy prospector reentering civilization with his hard-won pouch of dust and flakes.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I was just about to make a fire for my coffee when I smelt your smoke. I’d be happy to share a cup, if I might borrow your heat.’
I told him to go ahead and he stoked the coals, setting his blackened kettle directly atop the embers. He spoke to himself as he did this, offering hushed words of encouragement and grace: ‘Good, good. Tidy, tidy. Very nicely done.’ Every half minute or so he suffered a fit of twitches and I thought, He has been alone in the wilderness for too long, and has become two people.
‘You are heading into San Francisco?’ asked Charlie.
‘You bet I am. Four months I’ve been away, and the closer I get I can’t hardly believe it. I got it all worked out to the last detail.’
‘Got what all worked out?’
‘All the things I’m going to do.’ We did not ask that he elaborate, but he needed no invitation to continue: ‘First thing I’m going to do is rent a clean room, up high so I can look down and see everything as it passes. The second thing I’m going to do is call for a piping hot bath. Third thing is I’m going to sit in it with the window open and listen to the town. Fourth thing I’m going to do is have a shave, to the bare cheek, and a haircut, close-cropped and parted. Fifth thing I’m going to do is buy a new outfit from the hat to the boots. Shirt, undershirt, pants, stockings, all of it.’
‘I have to go to the toilet,’ Charlie interrupted, and he walked away into the forest.
The prospector was undisturbed by my brother’s rudeness and in fact did not appear to notice it. He was staring into the fire as he spoke; he probably would have continued talking even if I had left: ‘Sixth thing I’m going to do is eat a steak as big as my head. Seventh thing I’m going to do is get very, very drunk. Eighth thing I’m going to do is get a pretty girl and lie down a while. Ninth thing I’m going to do is talk with her about her life, and she’ll ask about mine, and we’ll go back and forth like this, civilized and properly. Tenth thing I’m going to do is no one’s business in the world but my own. Eleventh thing I’m going to do is send her away and stretch out in the clean, soft bed, like this.’ He stretched out his arms as wide as he was able. ‘Twelfth thing, boy, I’m going to sleep and sleep and sleep!’
Now the water was boiled and he poured us each a cup of coffee, the taste of which was so poor it actually startled me, and it took my every bit of politeness not to spit the liquid out. Dredging my finger along the bottom of the cup, I brought up a mound of grit. I smelled and then licked this and identified it as dirt. People will often describe something as ‘tasting like’ dirt, but this was not the case, here—my cup held earth and hot water, nothing more. I believe the man, through some lonely prospector mania, had begun brewing dirt and tricking himself into believing it was coffee. I had a mind to broach the subject with him but he was so pleased to be sharing, and I did not want to upset his pride; at any rate, who did I think I was to try and undo what had surely taken many days and nights to become fact for him? I decided to wait until his next fit of twitches and then pour out the dirt-water while he was not looking. Charlie came back from the woods and I informed him with secret looks that he should not drink the ‘coffee’; when the prospector offered him a cup he declined. ‘More for us,’ the prospector told me, and I weakly smiled.