Yankton

Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Gold Fever

While all this was going on I asked the sheriff who we might see about transporting gold from the nearby camps to the bank.. He thought a moment, then said, "Go see a man by the name of Samuel Elkins, a few miles west of here in a place called "Four Mile" camp, he kind of runs things out there, maybe you can cut a deal with him." As for Jo, they tentatively hired her but wanted to see her actually handling a class of unruly kids before committing to a full hire. They suggested she take a room at a small boarding house in town. About an hour later Sara returned announcing that she was hired by a widow woman trying to start a clothing store, Sara told us, "her name is Mrs. Appleton, her husband worked for a freighting company but got killed last spring in an accident, she's trying to make ends meet by starting a little clothing store, I told her I'm a pretty good sewer, so she hired me to sew, sell, and help with other things, she's letting me move in with her, so it looks like I've found my calling." We escorted Jo down to the boarding house also run by another widow, who was tickled pink that Jo was going to be the towns new teacher, and as luck would have it, she had a ten year old son who had been attending school and would be one of Jo's pupils. Before Mark and I left, we told both women, "If for any reason things don't work out, or for any reason something goes wrong, get yourselves back up to Deadwood and the shack you were staying at, we'll help you."

There was enough daylight left to ride out to the four mile camp, it didn't take long to find Sam Elkins, he was the one doing all the yelling. "This guy's got a real attitude problem," observed Mark, "Maybe we should go somewhere else?" "Ah, I'll talk to him, let's see what's up anyway." Once Elkins was done chewing some guys ass out, he looked at us and growled, "Whadda f**k you idjets want?" "My names Brian Yankton, this is my partner Mark Sedgwick. Mark and I are looking for work transporting gold from the camps to the bank, sheriff over in Custer City said you might be able to help." Elkins stood at the bar giving us the stink eye, saying, "Did he now? How do I know you two won't just up and take off with the gold?" I shrugged, "You don't, and frankly I couldn't blame you, you don't know jack s**t about us, I can tell you that we are honest men, looking for work, we've both had extensive military experience, we're expert shots, and we want to make a go of this, other than that it's strictly a case of trust. Yeah we could take off with the gold, but eventually we plan on moving on to other endeavors. So when people ask us "How do I know I can trust you?" We can tell them "Go talk to Sam Elkins down in four mile. I suspect your word carries a lot of weight around here. THAT sir, is more valuable than gold." Elkins stood there and thought about it some more, then studied us a bit more, finally saying, "Well at least your honest about it, all right I'll give you two a test, as a matter of fact there is a small shipment ready to go out of here."

"How much is none of your business, the correct amount will be written don on a piece of paper over my signature, it will be in a small strong box, your job will be getting it to the bank in Hill City INTACT! Is that clear?" "Hill City," said Mark, "Why not Custer ?" "Cause the banker there is an asshole, and skims dust, and besides, the bank in Hill City has more security, is it a deal?" Shaking his hand, I replied "Deal!." Elkins then invited us for a drink, and to go over a few other details, while we were talking, I asked him, "Would you possibly have a duplicate strong box of the one you're sending the gold in?" "I might," he replied, "I'd like to borrow it," I replied, " "I've got an idea, we'll see that you get it back." Elkins then told us, "You boys better be playing straight with me, there's a lot of men here that will have everything they have riding in that box, if you two cross me in any way, there won't be anywhere you can hide from me." "We completely understand that Mr. Elkins," I replied, getting your trust and recommendation is worth more to us right now than gold." "You get that gold to the bank," he replied, I'll see to it that you get ten percent of what's in that box, the instructions to Frank the banker will be in the box." That sounded fine to us, so the next morning we picked up the small strong box as well as an empty one. A sizeable crowd of nervous miners watched us load up no doubt there were those with designs on that gold as well, but we had plans for them. We skipped around Custer, and made good time, stopping for the night while there was still enough daylight out. We selected a spot just a little south of St. Elmo Peak near the site where Korczak Ziolkowski would carve the crazy horse memorial.

While Mark maintained a vigil, I quickly "created" a fake campsite complete with a small campfire. With the buckboard and horses picketed well away, we took up sniper positions in the thick pine trees donning home-made Ghillie suits. Both of us had small two-way receivers we could keep in touch with, allowing us to coordinate an attack on any intruders. We continuously swept the area with our scopes, which allowed us to see perfectly in the dark. Around eleven, Mark reported hearing someone moving through the woods, I quickly located three men sneaking through the trees below us, not once did they look up. Feverish whispering indicated they were trying to make up their minds as what to do. When the man closest to me turned to face the other two men I saw in an instant that it was Elkins, the other two I recognized from the camp. "Why you double dealing piece of s**t," I thought. I had carefully piled our bags with blankets over them to simulate men sleeping near the fire, I whispered to mark that one of the men was Elkins, and that I was going to take him out. Mark replied that he would take care of any I missed, so as soon as Elkins raised his club to beat senseless what he thought was one of us, I dropped a cap on him taking his head completely off quickly targeting the second man I put a round into his chest, while Mark dropped the third. The shots alerted all the birds that were roosting in the trees, so we waited for about fifteen minutes before climbing down.

The three men were definitely dead, "Can you believe that bastard," snarled Mark, "He was going to kill us and take all the gold, probably try this scam again on some unsuspecting chump later on." We waited until morning then checked the bodies for money or anything we could use. We added two more rifles and three pistols to our growing "collection" as well as bedrolls and the three horses. We rolled the bodies into a crevasse where I was pretty sure they wouldn't be found, then we continued on to Hill city. When we arrived at the bank the banker opened the chest revealing a little over three hundred in dust and small nuggets, the note stated as such and that we were to get ten percent, thirty dollars didn't seem like much for risking our lives, but the money would be going to Montana and Melonie.

We said nothing about Elkins, we lived up to our part of the bargain, we got the gold to the bank, got paid for our efforts. We sold the horses for fifty dollars each, too cheap really, but we wanted to be rid of them. As for the weapons they were carrying, most was run-of-the -mill. I kept Elkins's Smith and Wesson model 3 Schofield pistol, as well as a model 1866 Winchester rifle that was in exceptional condition. The rest of the gear we held on to .

We had modern topographic maps of the area, which indicated elevations and terrain features, which was all we were really interested in anyway, and as we were to discover, some of the trails marked on the map were being made right now.

On our way back north we swung west towards Medicine mountain looking for small hard-to reach creeks coming out of the mountains. At one point, I had to hide the buckboard, and saddle the horse as I couldn't take it any further. Studying the maps, we decided to check out a small stream coming off a higher elevation. We then discovered that the stream indicated on the map didn't exist yet, but we continued to climb, loaded with our portable sluice, and pans. After extensive poking around, we came across a tiny creek emitting from a fissure in the rocks. Being late in the year, there wasn't much water, flowing, but there was just enough water to show color. Looking around it was obvious that no one had ever been here, and that's just what we were looking for, places too difficult or out of the way for the average out-of -shape prospector to bother with. As we panned and sifted, I kept thinking of Walter Houston in "Treasure of Sierra Madre," "Rich boys, we're gonna be rich!" Much of the creek bed was dry, but we panned it anyway pulling out a decent amount of dust and tiny nuggets. We spent the night on the mountain, resuming our operation again in the morning. By noon we had just about all we were going to get, filling a beer can slightly over 's full. The rest of the day was spent getting back to our horses, and the buckboard.

As we started moving north, a lot more riders started appearing on the trail, we figured it was due to the recent gold strike nearby, but what bothered Mark and I was the way some of them kept "eye-balling" us. By the time we decided to stop both of us had given up any chance of getting a peaceful night's sleep. We set up in a classic ambush situation taking a small spot of high ground with our "camp" below us. Sure enough around nine that night we spotted movement below, this time our "guests" simply shot into the blankets near the campfire. There were four of them this time, and when Mark and I were finished, there were none. Upon examining the bodies, it was apparent these men were robbing other hapless miners, as we found in their saddle bags several pokes of gold, no doubt taken from men they killed while sleeping. On one man I found a folded up wanted poster issued by our friend sheriff Bullock "$200.00 for the capture of Charlie Givens wanted for murder and theft." I checked the mans face against the poster, not much of a likeness, but hand drawn posters never were. I stuck the poster in my pocket. The four men yielded around thirty dollars between them, I kept a couple ten dollar gold pieces to sell in 2013, the rest would go to the girls.

We took a chance and took turns sleeping, and in the morning helped ourselves to the provisions Charlie and his buddies were carrying, I decided to take Charlie back to Deadwood as a "gift" for sheriff Bullock, finding a spot for him on our already crowded buckboard. It was close to dusk when we reached our shack so we stored some of the recovered gear there, as well as leaving some of Charlie's provisions. We also left our prospecting equipment there intending to check out the stream in front of the shack as soon as we got a chance. Then it was into Deadwood where again we drew attention from the great "unwashed" crowding the streets. I spotted the sheriff and one of his deputies making their way down the street, and hailed him, "Gotta present for you sheriff!" We pulled up in front of his office, and as he came up to inspect the body lying in the back of my buckboard.

Showing him the wanted poster, he looked at me then at Charlie. "His buddies are laid out this side of Box Elder creek, Charlie here thought it would be a good idea to rob us as we slept, but Mark and I are too smart for that. This poster says you owe us $200.00 sheriff."

Bullock shook his head and glared at me, "The only man glad you're around is the undertaker Yankton, Well let's go inside, I'll write you out a draft." "Trouble just seems to follow you Yankton, any reason for that?" quizzed Bullock.

"Could it be the ratio of bad guys to law enforcement officers is too lopsided around here sheriff," I replied. "Mark and I have been in some pretty wild and woolly places in the world, places where due process was a bullet. Charlie knew the rules, simple case of the quick and the dead sheriff, let's face it gold draws out the worst in men, and once in awhile, the good, I've told you my story." Putting my hand on his shoulder, I added, "Rest easy sheriff, it won't always be this way, the Deadwood we come from is quiet, peaceful maybe even a bit boring, the tourists all come to wander through the cemetery looking at the graves of all you pioneers who got the ball rolling , ashes to ashes, dust to dust, earth to earth, and all that."

The sheriff had us deliver Charlie to one of the undertakers, then it was over to the assay office where we found out what all our work had been worth. Adding what we took from Charlie and his chums Mark and I hauled in close to three hundred dollars.

We quickly discovered that three hundred dollars was like six or seven thousand in modern dollars, so we were able to get a major start on our building project. The money easily paid for most of the lumber as well as roughly half the furnishings. We also discovered that while goods were relatively cheap, the high freight rates made everything very expensive, a problem we just had to work through. I brought this up to Calamity Jane, and Charlie Utter, both involved in the freighting business at the time. Both just laughed, Charlie slapping me on the shoulder.

"Son, A man's got to make a living doing whatever he's good at out here. Both of us provide a service, I haul freight all the way from Sidney or Cheyenne. You and Montana offer another kind of service. One day they'll build a railroad into Deadwood and I'll be out of business, when this bunch eventually packs up and leaves, which they will do, you two will be finished as well, enjoy it while you can son!" I had to admit, history would prove him right, make it while you can I guess.

In dealing with the sawmill people, we made the acquaintance of the Howland family. Samuel was the patriarch, his sons Jacob, Wallace, and Henry, were a rugged bunch, men like this just didn't exist in the twenty-first century anymore. Jake was the "sales rep," and who we always dealt with, the Howland's were woodcutters who did a thriving business supplying people like us who were too busy to cut our own with firewood. Jake was the youngest, and the only one of the men without a beard, a factor that would involve my sister, but more on that later.