In Gold Country #9 - Wind Down

#65 - Jessica and Gino, with his shotgun, and Otis came up, and sat by the fire having made their rounds through the camp. “Let’s see if The Bear is still around,” he said smiling.

Welcome! I’m glad you are here. 

Here’s a recap of In Gold Country - James is checking out a gold claim he has the option of getting having won it in a poker game. He meets other miners and prospectors and spends the weekend with them at their outing.  

Things have settled down after The Bear’s appearance with Gino and Jessica, Alex, and James gathered at the campfire, bringing the evening’s get-together to a close.  

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Chaps – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 

#9 - Wind Down  

Jessica and Gino, with his shotgun, and Otis came up, and sat by the fire having made their rounds through the camp. 

“Let’s see if The Bear is still around,” he said smiling. 

Gino set a small box down and pulled out some aluminum foil, popcorn in a can, cooking oil and salt. In short order, popcorn was in the foil, hung on a stick, hanging over the coals. 

The fire warmed, and the coals glowed and danced in the heat waves. The popcorn popped. It tasted great. 

The moon topped the canyon rim and bathed the north slope in silver. The Dorado, away from the moonlit rapids, mirrored a jet contrail across the sky. 

“Quite the night, isn’t it?” Jessica offered. 

Affirmations and nods came in answer. 

Taking the opportunity I said, “I sure do appreciate the invite, Gino.” 

“Sure! Glad to have you. You fit right in. 

“More folks showed up than I thought. Maybe a last outing before winter. No one got hurt, or got out of hand, though I thought Slow Mo was going to redline there for a while. Even with The Bear, it has been a good day.” 

“Man, that was something.” I added. “It was easy to see that if he had come at us, he would have been met with some impressive resistance!” 

That got a couple laughs and Alex said, “He’d a probably died.” 

“I’m still surprised that he came so close. Doesn’t figure, with all the noise and such. Couldn’t see it was hurt,” Gino wondered.

“Looks like everything is set to run up the tree,” he said, getting up and going over. 

Alex and I helped, and it was done and we got back to the fire. 

Otis nosed in for a rub. “What kind of dog are you, Otis?” I asked. 

Gino said, “He’s a Catahoula Cur, almost 4 years old. Slow Mo gave him to me. Got him in Louisiana. Said, ‘You shouldn’t be spending time alone in the woods without a dog. This is a good one. I know his lineage.’” 

“I thought maybe he was. The mottled coat, and different colored eyes. Maybe a Blue Tick. Good hunting dogs.” 

“He’s a hound dog for sure. A good buddy. Good to have around.” 

“How long do you stay here?” I asked Gino. 

“It just depends on the weather. When it gets too cold or too wet. I don’t care much for either anymore. Could be soon though. I’ll go to Prescott for the winter, then up to Spearfish late spring. Back here in August. It works out good.”  

“How about you, Jessica?” 

“Oh, I go back to Durango on Wednesday. Gino will run me to Reno for my plane.” 

“James, here is my email,” writing it down and handing it to me. “Let me know if you pick up the claim. I’ll send you the lock combo for the gate. You can stay here when you come up and work it.” 

“That’s great, Gino. I don’t see why I wouldn’t get it. I can give this place a look over.” 

“Yeah, I was thinking that. I’ll send you our neighbor’s info. We try to keep up on who is coming in and out. There is always someone settling in if we don’t keep watch.  

“There’s Paul over across the creek, Marie and Jerry further up and above you, and Brian to our east. The power company is below us.  

“If anybody gives you a hard time, call the Sheriff. He’s good, I’ll get you his number, too.” 

“Much obliged, Gino!” 

“Sure, makes things easier on everyone.” He paused, and said, “I think that’s it. I’m tired.” He got up for his shotgun, Otis trailing behind. 

“You two take care of the fire?” 

Alex said, “Yeah, we got it.” 

We said our “Goodnights,” and the trio walked into the shadows. 

“Gino is really taken by Jessica, isn’t he?” 

“I think so,” said Alex.  

I put more wood on the fire. “How about you, Alex? You up here long?” 

“A couple more days. I’m going home for a couple of weeks, then to Prescott and Williams until after the New Year. Then home again. My wife is joining me for better’n a week at Christmas. I stay often with Gino, work at his claims, and go back and forth for these gigs. I can meet my expenses and get some money to Gino. He says I help him out, but I put in for costs. 

“You know, after I first met him, and was up here for the camp over, he said I could come up, do some mining. You know, keep an eye on the place. Just like you.  

“Really, there are squatters up here and will move in if we don’t keep watch and stay on top of it. It’s a heck of a note, so be careful. And keep an eye out on the mine. They find it, think it’s a ready-made shelter, and it is not safe. Just follow that cut where Gino went, up slope, poke around, you’ll find it.” 

A silence, but for the coals’ popping, took over. Cool enough now for us to see our breath, I thought about putting on more fuel, but I was feeling the effects of both the beer and a full day. 

Alex asked, “How about you? Are you staying past the weekend?” 

“Well, I would that I could but I’m working,” I answered. “I deliver sampling supplies. I get up early Monday, I’m going to Fresno, back, then to Arcata on Tuesday. It will be a long day, might stay over to bring test samples back. Not sure yet.” 

“I’ve done some driving. It gets old.” 

“Yeah, it sure does. I can retire in a few more years.” 

We fell into the quiet again. 

Alex said, “I do believe I’m done. Think I’ll turn in.” 

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll watch the fire. Make sure it’s out.” 

“That’s cool. Hey, ‘Hold’em’, nice talking to you,” he smiled. 

“You too, ‘Streak’. See you in the morning.” 

Alex stepped off toward his tent and turned around.

He came back, pulled out a piece of paper and pen, wrote his email address down and handed it to me. 

“Let’s keep in touch. You still have a guitar, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. My Gibson.” 

“Bring it next time we meet, we can play some tunes. It’d be fun.” 

“Alright, I’ll do it.” 

He thumbed up as he resumed his way, picking out a scale on his guitar as he went. Soon, he was in his tent. 

Night was heavy on the camp. A blanket of silver and black. A photograph negative. An Escher print. Or a Maxfield Parrish.  

The waterfall at my claim’s boundary shimmered off the boulders, looking no closer or farther away than the burned-out mountain ridge to the northeast, the snowcapped peak behind it, the tall pines on the north slope, or the eddying current below the fire pit.  

The moon’s rays cut out tents and trucks and trees and rocks leaving black-hole shadows. A flashlight beam trailed through the upper campsites, blinking through the trees, and disappeared.  

A few stars above the western canyon wall shone bright against the moonlight. One was extra bright, maybe Sirius. Maybe the planet Venus, maybe Saturn. Or Jupiter. 

The fire fell in on itself, having gone unfueled, and just wisps of flame arced above the coals.  

I thought of The Bear and turned to look behind me in reflex. He would have been quite stealthy to enter camp again without being noticed. At least while one was awake. That gave me pause. 

A wave of sleep washed over me. It was time to call it a day. I spread out the coals to dissipate the heat and went for water and shovel. Two buckets and dirt on top quenched the fire leaving a mud slurry from which rose no smoke or heat.  

I stood over it poking it with the shovel, absorbed in the quiet and my frosted breath, then headed for my tent. I was ready for some shuteye as I slipped into my sleeping bag. The last thing I remember thinking of was The Bear, and tapping my foot to that song of Alex’s, “I Can’t Lose Your Mem’ry.” 

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