Badge of Honor by Susan K. Marlow

Author:Susan K. Marlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Dry Diggings

Ellie reached over Nathan’s shoulder and poked her brother in the back. “Where … where’d the creek go, Jem?” Her question was barely above a whisper.

Jem didn’t answer. Stretched out from east to west—as far as he could see—what little was left of Cripple Creek trickled past. A few worn-out-looking miners were lifting shovelfuls of dirt and gravel into buckets, gunny sacks, and rough-hewn wheelbarrows. It was no wonder the men looked exhausted. Jem knew that every shovelful of dirt scooped from the creek bed would have to be hauled a mile away to Two Bit Gulch. There, the load could be washed to find whatever gold might be hidden in the dirt.

So much work for so little gold!

Ellie poked him again. “Jem? I asked—”

“I heard you,” Jem said. “I don’t know where it went.”

He sat on Copper and tried to remember a time when the creek had looked like this. Never, he decided. Not even in the heat of the hottest August had Jem ever seen Cripple Creek flow like the narrow ribbon of brown it was today. Sure, the creek was never deep, and it ran a little low during late summer, but it had never run dry.

“Last time we were here, the creek was icy cold and running strong. What happened?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe it was a drier spring than we thought,” Jem said.

Nathan scratched behind his ear and gave a half-smile. “I guess it’s just like that song, ‘I’ll drain the rivers dry.’”

“This isn’t a river, so don’t go on about some dumb ol’ song,” Ellie snapped as she dismounted.

“Same difference,” Nathan said with a shrug. He tossed his gold pan to the ground and slid off the horse. Immediately, Nugget reached out and licked Nathan’s hand. He pushed the dog away. “Does this mean we won’t be panning for gold today?”

Jem ignored his cousin’s question. Slowly, as if in a dream, he dropped to the ground beside Copper and tied him to the nearest tree limb. Then he headed down the low hill and onto the narrow strip of land that marked the Coulter claim. Shaking his head, he surveyed what was left of the creek.

Ellie and Nathan followed and stood next to him.

“No, Nathan,” Jem finally said. He planted his hands on his hips and let out a long, frustrated breath. “We won’t be panning for gold today or any other day. Not unless you’ve got a mind to haul the creek bed all the way to the stream in Two Bit Gulch.” He shuddered at the thought. Hauling dirt was backbreaking work.

“Is that what those fellows are doing?” Nathan pointed to the handful of miners crouched over the stream bed with sacks and shovels.

Jem nodded, then glanced upstream. “I wonder where Strike is.”

The old man’s claim was littered with tent stakes, broken shovels, sardine cans, empty bottles, and a threadbare blanket. His coffee pail lay on its side next to the circle of blackened stones that marked the campfire. By the look of things, Strike had not tended his camp for some time.

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