Idaho Gold Fever

As for Rinson and company, they pretty much left Fargo alone those three days. No more spying on him during the day and keeping watch on him at night. They seemed to have accepted the fact that the settlers didn’t mind having him along. Even Slag and Perkins ignored him.

There was no trace of the Nez Perce, and for that Fargo was thankful.

At last the big morning arrived.

The covered wagons were winding along the Payette River. The farmers were excited that their long trek was almost at an end. Victor Gore was excited that soon he would be back in his old haunts. Even the so-called protectors showed signs of being excited, although what they had to be excited about, Fargo couldn’t guess. Unless it was that soon they would get the rest of the money they were due and could return to Fort Bridger.

Fargo was riding alongside the Winston’s wagon when Victor Gore came galloping back to excitedly report that he had spotted the mouth of the valley ahead. Word spread. The farmers lashed their teams to go faster, and before long a broad valley spread out before their eager eyes. Oval shaped, it was everything Gore said it would be: lush with grass, with timbered slopes on three sides, plenty of wood for cabins and barns, and plenty of game for the pot. Fargo had to admit it was ideal.

The farmers brought their wagons to a stop in the middle of the valley and hopped down to gaze in heart-felt joy at their new home. Lester Winston scooped up a handful of dirt. He smelled it, and ran it through his fingers, and announced that it was some of the richest soil he’d ever seen.

Fargo didn’t share in the general elation. The valley was too open. Should the Nez Perce attack in force, the farmers wouldn’t stand a prayer. The wooded slopes would provide ideal cover for a war party to sneak in close and spy on the whites, waiting for the right moment to attack. But he didn’t voice his worries to Lester Winston. He would be wasting his breath.

Rachel came over and gleefully clasped his hands. “Isn’t it glorious?” she asked, her eyes alight with delight.

“If you’ve seen one valley, you’ve pretty much seen them all.”

“You don’t understand. This is the start of a dream for us. We have a lot at stake here, more than you can imagine. If all goes as my pa has planned, before too long we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. A new home. A new farm. We’ll be much better off than we were in Ohio.”

“You could also be dead.”

Rachel drew back, her eyebrow arching. “What has gotten into you? Why can’t you share in our joy?”

Fargo motioned at the green grass that covered the valley floor. “You see ten cabins and barns. I see bleached bones picked clean by the buzzards.”

“My goodness. Can you be any more gloomy? But I refuse to let you spoil this moment for me.” Rachel smiled and raised an arm to the azure sky. “I’m so happy, I want to shout.”

“Rachel . . .” Fargo began, but she thrust a hand at him.

“Don’t. It’s about the Nez Perce, isn’t it? I’m touched that you’re so worried, but you carry it too far.”

Fargo had said his last word on the subject. He’d tried with her father and mother and he had tried with her, and all they did was smile and seek refuge in denial. Whatever happened now was on their heads.

Rinson, Slag and Perkins were huddled with the rest of the protectors. From their angry gestures and low but sharp voices, they were in heated argument. Fargo tried to catch what they were saying. He started to drift toward them when suddenly Rinson, Slag and Perkins broke from the rest and came toward the farmers.

Rinson held out his palm to Lester Winston. “It’s time. We got you here safe, like we promised. Now pay us what is due.”

“You have done fine, sir,” Winston told him. “We have no complaints. Give me a minute to fetch my poke from my wagon.”

Several farmers added their compliments.

“When will you be leaving us?” the farmer named Harvey asked.

“We haven’t decided yet,” Rinson answered.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” another said.

“We’re planning to celebrate,” a third farmer revealed. “Tonight or tomorrow night. The ladies will bake cakes and cookies. And Sam will play his fiddle. We’ll have us a grand time.”

“Are you inviting the Nez Perce?” Fargo asked.

“Why on earth would we do that?”

Just then Lester Winston returned. “That’s not a bad idea, Mr. Fargo. It would show them we have peaceable intentions.” He opened his poke and commenced to count out coins.

Fargo scanned the surrounding mountains. It was only a matter of time before the Nez Perce showed up. “You’ll be lucky if they don’t slit your throats on sight.”

“None of that kind of talk in front of the ladies and the children, if you please,” Lester chided him. “You’ll scare them.”

“It would help if someone was scared,” Fargo said.

As soon as Rinson had the money, he divided it among the other protectors. Fargo seemed to be the only one who noticed that they weren’t nearly as happy about being paid as they should be. It was peculiar.

Lester jingled the few coins left in his poke. “There’s not much left but we’ll fill our pokes again real soon.” He gave a slight start. “That is, after we’ve grown our crops and taken them to market.”

“Where?” Fargo asked.

“Why, to Fort Bridger, of course. Or maybe to Fort Laramie. From there we can send our surplus east on freight wagons.”

“You have it all thought out.”

“I like to think so, yes.”

Fargo was being sarcastic but Winston didn’t notice. “That’s a long way to ship corn or wheat. And vegetables would rot.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Winston said. “Which is why we have intended from the start that when we got to Oregon we would try a whole new crop. One that won’t spoil on its way to market.” He looked about them. “I suppose they would grow just as well here as in Oregon.”

“What is this wonder called?”

Lester smiled and swelled out his chest in pride at their brainstorm. “Potatoes.”

“What?”

“You heard me. We’re going to grow potatoes.”

Fargo stared.

“I’m serious. Potatoes don’t need a long growing season and they keep for a long time. They’re perfect.”

“You’re loco. Why would people back East buy potatoes from way out here when they can grow their own?”

Lester had more to say, but just then Rinson came back. Slag and Perkins were at his elbows.

“What is it?” Lester asked. “Was my count off?”

“No, your count was fine,” the hawk-faced man said. “But we’ve been talking it over and we’ve decided we’ll stick around for a spell.”

“You will?”

Fargo was as surprised as Winston.

“Our horses can use the rest. So can we. And if the Nez Perce show up, they’ll be less likely to attack.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful we are,” Lester said. In his enthusiasm he clapped Rinson on the arm. “With you watching over our families, we’ll be free to get that much more work done.”

“I’m glad you like the idea.”

Fargo said nothing. But Rinson and his friends didn’t strike him as charitable sorts.

“Let me go spread the news.” Lester hustled away with Harvey and the others.

Rinson shifted toward Fargo. “What about you, mister? I take it you’ll be on your way soon?”

“When I’m good and ready.”

“Damn, you’re prickly. But if I was in your boots, I’d stick around, too, what with that gal being so sweet on you.”

“Be careful,” Fargo said.

Rinson didn’t take offense. “All I’m saying is that she’s as fine a filly as I’ve ever set eyes on.”