The Americans Are Coming by Herb Curtis

Author:Herb Curtis [Curtis, Herb]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC019000, FIC016000
Publisher: Goose Lane Editions
Published: 2008-05-24T07:00:00+00:00

ten

Saturday night at dusk, Bill Wallace and Lindon Tucker stood outside the Cabbage Island Salmon Club camps. They were saying goodbye. They would not see each other again for a year. Bill paid Lindon for guiding him and tipped him twenty dollars. Twenty dollars was the biggest tip Lindon Tucker had ever received for guiding. Bill Wallace had had a few drinks and was feeling generous. He could afford to be generous. Bill Wallace was a millionaire who had just purchased a fifty thousand dollar salmon pool for a thousand dollars. Lindon Tucker had been drinking too, and was feeling quite good.

“I didn’t catch any salmon this year,” said Bill, “but I’ll be back next year. I want to put up a cottage next year, Lindon, and by God, I want you to be one of the carpenters.”

“Yeah, sure, yeah, sure, sure! Done a bit o’ carpenter work. Wouldn’ mind workin’ on it. Yeah, sure, sure! I’ll work on it.”

“Well, Lindon, I think I’ll get my gear together and go to bed. I’ve got a long drive tomorrow, and Lillian and I will be rising early.”

“It’s been good doin’ bus’ness, yeah. See ya next year. We’ll git lotsa fish next year.”

“If we could figure out what that young Palidin Ramsey is doing, we’ll catch them all right, Lindon. How many do you think he’s caught in the last few days?”

“Well, he got six one day, he told me, so he did. Six, yeah. Six one day and four the next. Yeah, yeah, yeah, six one day and four the next and seven today. That makes . . . six and four and seven . . . how many?”

“Seventeen, I believe, Lindon.”

“Seventeen, yeah, yeah, seventeen. Did ya buy a few from him to take back with ya?”

“I sure did, Lindon. I bought eight from him. I’ll tell the boys back home that I caught them myself.”

“Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Tell them ya caught them yerself, yeah, yeah yeah. Yeah. Ha, ha.”

“Well, good-night, Lindon.”

“Yes sir, yes sir. Good-night.”

“We’ll see you next year.”

“Next year, yeah. Yeah, yeah, next year, yeah. Yep. Take ’er easy.”

Bill Wallace escaped into the camp.

Lindon Tucker was in a mood for celebrating and headed for Bernie Hanley’s store.

Dan Brennen, Bob Nash, John Kaston, Bert Todder and Stan Tuney were all standing around Bernie Hanley’s store gossiping, eating oranges and drinking Sussex Ginger Ale. When Lindon Tucker arrived, he pulled a pint – already half empty – from his belt, ordered a bottle of ginger ale and treated the boys.

“Yes sir. Yes sir, yes sir, the best sport I ever guided. Tipped me twenty dollars, so he did. Twenty dollars! And, and, and gimme a fishin’ rod. Brand new rod! Give it to me, he did. Twenty dollars and a fishin’ rod, jist like that! He said, he said, he said, he said, he said, he said, what he said was I want you to have it, he said. Gimme a rod, jist like that, yeah.”

“That old lad I was guidin’, didn’ ketch a fish all week and didn’ tip me a cent!” said Stan Tuney.

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