Tom and Kate rode off about an hour later on their way back to the ranch. Granny B watched them ride away. “There’s not much we can do here until they get back with the supplies this evening. I’m searching for edible plants and would like you two to scout the area south of here. Stay low key and try not to leave any tracks. I’d go on foot and not get too far away. If you see anything to eat, bring it back. No shooting!”
Granny B saw Jackie’s head lowered and noticed Rick had turned away from her. “I want to apologize. I just caught myself treating you as children. Jackie, you need to tell me when that happens.”
Jackie smiled. “Granny B, you’ve been my momma and mentor so long I just couldn’t do that.”
“Learn to. I don’t want the love between us to sour because I’m a bossy old broad.”
Jackie hugged the woman who’d taken her and Tom in and had become their mother. “I’ll always love and respect you.”
***
Granny B’s land – Granny B’s cabin in the hills below the cave.
The shallow canyon around the cabin held a diversity of plant and animal life. Deer, rabbit, and opossum tracks littered the soil. The plant life varied from the hearty plants that could survive in arid conditions to the ones that grew around and in the Rogue River. Several thirty-foot tall Scouler willow trees grew on the flat areas next to the hillside and were in stark contrast to the pines. Pacific black willows crowded around the largest lake in this small paradise in the hills. This diversity was due to the stream that meandered down the middle of the canyon. The rest of the area was almost a high desert with little water. Scrub evergreens and hearty plants clung to the hills in patchy clumps, hoping for a bit of groundwater that sometimes flowed down the rocky hills.
It didn’t take long for Granny B’s bag to overflow with edible plants. She had a separate bag hanging over her shoulder that contained the poisonous plants she intended to use to train the others. She was pleased that she’d found such a variety of edible and non-edible plants. She’d planned to cook a tasty supper, but had been so successful she now had plenty of examples for a class on foraging.
Jackie and Rick were scouting the area north of Granny B and found something that astounded Rick. Rick walked along the narrow stream when he stopped to fill his canteen from the cold mountain water. He retrieved his Sawyer Mini and filled his canteen with the now filtered water while Jackie skipped flat rocks on the water. She wanted a flat stone, so she dug down in the stream and dislodged a handful of water-worn smooth stones. She selected a flat one and flipped it to the water. It skipped four times, but Jackie only focused on the shiny particles on her hand.
“Rick! Rick!” There wasn’t any answer, so she turned to yell when she saw Rick standing beside her, looking at the shiny yellow dust on his wife’s hand. Rick took her hand and stirred the dust with his finger. He wasn’t satisfied, so he reached down into the stream and scooped up two handfuls of the dirt and sand from the bottom of the stream. He slowly washed the dirt away by swirling his hands in the water to reveal more of the shiny yellow metal. He even saw several small nuggets.
They had been silent until Jackie picked up one of the small nuggets and rolled it between her fingers. “Gold! It’s Gold!”
Rick tried to stay calm. “Let’s take our mess kits from our backpacks and see if we can find more.”
They feverishly ripped their mess kits apart and took the shallow dinner plates to pan for gold. After several hours they’d found a half-full coffee cup of the gold flakes and small nuggets. Rick was ready to pan for gold the rest of the day when Jackie noticed the sun was lower in the sky. “Rick, we’ve left Granny B alone for hours. She’ll skin us alive. Let’s go!”
“Darn, you’re right. Grab some brush and wipe away all traces that we’ve been here while I mark the area so only we can find it again.”
While walking back to the cabin, Jackie said, “Gold is worthless now, but someday that stream could mean a fortune to us.”
***
“I tell ya, I smell bacon a cooking.”
“Pop, we have to get to the corral and get those cattle down the hills to the city, or those freaking Mexicans will kill us,” the young boy said.
Grant Hogan was a grizzled old man who’d lived in the shady region of humanity before the lights went out. He’d recently run a group of teenaged car thieves and a chop shop. Even if the boys were arrested, Hogan’s lawyer would get them off with light or no sentences. He’d also started teenage car theft rings in California and Washington State. If a member was arrested in Oregon, Hogan would move the boy to another state with a new ID.
Hogan was in his mid-sixties, fat, and had stringy gray hair that he kept in a long ponytail. He’d always been too lazy to work, so criminal life suited him well.
“Y’all be quiet and follow me up the hillside. Those Mexicans don’t have a clue where we get the cattle. There’s a camp up there and someone’s frying bacon. I’ma gitting me summa dat bacon.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hogan peered through the brush and saw the old lady cooking outside the old log cabin. He whispered. “Hot damn! There be two cabins up here, and dis one comes with a cook.”
***
Granny B had set up her display of plants on the dinner table and short wall between
