He stopped at the door to the kitchen and placed a silver dollar on the counter next to the big cast iron stove. “Fantastic as always Addie.”

     The tall woman at the washtub placed the pan she had been scrubbing on the drain board and turned around with a wide smile. “I’m sure you say that to Ellie when you eat at her place.”

     Zack chuckled and his face reddened a little. “A man needs to keep a foot on both sides of the fence sometimes. Your beef and eggs can’t be beat but Ellie sure knows how to make biscuits and gravy.”

     Addie was drying her hands on a stained blue towel. “Leastways you’re honest about it. Its her biscuits and gravy is it?” She picked up a small flower sack and handed it to Zack. “You said you were going to have a long day so I tossed in the usual and an apple and hunk of the widow Moore’s cheese. You know she makes the best hard cheese around these parts.”

     Zack grinned; the red had gone from his face. “Yes its going to be a long one for sure; I’ve got to inspect the road to see if there is any blasting needs to be done and I was hoping to make it to the sawmill before dark.” Zack hefted the sack and put another fifty cents next to the dollar. “This is just for Cliff and me for one day; it feels heavy enough to feed the whole mill crew.”

     Addie chuckled. “That would cost you a ten dollar gold piece, that bunch can pack it away.”

     “Ten dollars, in gold? I’d better get out of here before you think I’m a rich man. Have a good day Addie.”

     Cliff was at the stable sitting in a chair out front leaning back dozing like he usually did. As Zack neared the legs of the chair came down and the old man sprang up. There was a twinkle in his eyes and recently a smile on his face all the time. Only a few months past he thought his useful days had ended; he was waiting for death to put an end to his misery. Then Zack had found him and a real need for his skills. In the past two months a realization that he was useful had renewed his life and formed a new Cliff.

     “Horses are ready Boss all that needs doin’ is to tighten the cinch and ride.”

     It was a long hard morning for Zack. He found three possible trouble spots on the hillside above his road up the face of the Bristol Mountains. Before riding on he showed Ben Elder where to blast and left him to blast them out and clean up the mess. Ben was a stuff neck, pencil pusher but a good man to have around; Zack knew his instructions would be carried out to the letter.

     Laredo was at the mill when Zack and Cliff arrived late that afternoon. There was a full load of logs in the pond waiting to be taken out and aged. Next to the pond were piles of logs stacked and drying while waiting to be cut as the orders came in.

     Only a week before the men had finished installing a third saw line and Laredo had all three line making noise and sawdust. The noise of the blades could be clearly heard a half mile away.

     Just as Cliff entered the bunkhouse the steam whistle blew ending the days work. “Darn if that ain’t a blessing.” Cliff said over his shoulder as he headed for the nearest empty bunk. “Them things can make more noise then a pack of screaming Sioux.”

     “We should be gone fairly early in the morning so you shouldn’t have to listen for long.” Zack replied as he put his saddlebags on the empty bunk next to Cliff’s.

     A half hour later they were standing in the chow line with the rest of the mill crew. Laredo was behind Zack with a plate piled high with a hunk of beef roast, fried okra, fried potatoes and peas. On the bench tables were stacks of fresh bread and bowels of fresh butter with pitchers of chilled butter milk next to steaming pitchers of hot coffee. The tone was quiet for fifty men but tired hungry seldom have much to say until their bellies are filled.

     “Things are running pretty good here.” Laredo stated as he sat his plate on the table and swung a leg over the bench seat. “We’ve had no major breakdowns on the new line yet. Have you seen Charlie?”

     “Not for a week or more.” Zack replied then chuckled. “He’s still convinced there is a big strike waiting for him somewhere in the Bristols. He’s been looking for more years than I can count.”

     “The man’s got a dream and I can’t say that is a bad thing.” Cliff added then shoveled in a spoonful of peas.

     Zack nodded. “He sure does and I hope he finds it.”

     The following morning Zack and Cliff headed back to Quincy after breakfast. He had wanted to see the new saw in action and that had been accomplished. On the way back they would ride by Wolf Ridge and look at some timber Charlie had talked about. It would likely be near dark when they got back to town.

     The timber was there just as Charlie said but it would take some difficult road building to get to it. For now there were better stands of timber to work from.

     In Quincy a quiet month slipped by. Laredo came to town once to place an order for supplies and asked about Charlie but no one had seen or heard from the old man. This was unlike Charlie and it began to gnaw at the back of his mind. Another week passed with no word from the old prospector.

     By this time Zack was more than worried and he asked Cliff to his room after dinner. After dinner Zack had his usual bottle of scotch plus a bucket of beer for Cliff. Once they were settled Zack sipped his scotch then looked hard at Cliff. He didn’t waste time with small talk. “Charlie has been gone far too long. Did he say anything to you about where he was headed?”

     Cliff took a deep pull on his mug of beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He talked a lot about a place called Hurricane Ridge. I ain’t rightly sure where it is, I ain’t had the time to get my bearings around these parts.”

     Zack rubbed his chin in thought. “Hurricane Ridge? That’s on the other end of the Bristols. From what I’ve heard it earns its name with some mighty stiff winds in the spring.”

     Silence filled the room for a half hour with each man in deep thought as he nursed and refilled his drink.

     It was Cliff that broke the silence. “Think I’ll ask a few question about this Hurricane Ridge and maybe take a ride down that way.”

     Zack filled his glass a third time. “Good, you ask around and I’ll put together what we might need for a few weeks on the trail.”

     “We?” Cliff asked in surprise. “I kinda figured I’d scout around on my own.”

     “And leave me here to wonder and worry? Not on your life. If Charlie is in trouble I want to be there.” He tossed off his scotch and set the glass down just a little too hard.

     Cliff shrugged and drained his mug and set it on the table as Zack had. “If that’s the way you want it then it pleases me. You let me know when you’re ready to pull out.” The older man stood taking the bucket and walked to the door not looking back. He was more than happy to be working for a man that had a backbone. In the past he had come across so many men that were good at giving orders but led from the rear. Zack Morgan was a man to follow and was not afraid to get his hands dirty. Yes he could understand why Charlie and Laredo followed this man blindly.

     For three days Cliff led Zack south across the Bristol Mountains. It was rough but Cliff had a knack of finding the easy path. Water and fresh meat were not a problem to any seasoned scout like Cliff. Out of habit, conversation was kept to a minimum during the day. Cliff had survived some of the worst of the Indian wars and had learned to be a cautious man. Most of their talk came in the evening over a cup of coffee after their meal then Cliff would allow the fire to burn down then bank the coals for morning. In the Bristols there were no hostile Indians but the older man had developed some habits that had kept him alive this long and he was not going to change.

     On the afternoon of the sixth day they broke through a line of trees and found they were on the crest of a ridge over looking a wide valley of thick pine.

     For some seconds they sat in silence taking in the grandeur of the view then Cliff pointed to the far side of the valley. “That should be Hurricane Ridge.”

     Without another word the older man dismounted and began to remove the saddle from his horse. Zack was a bit surprised but followed suit although he did not know why although he had all the faith and confidence he needed in Cliff.

     Once their camp was laid out and the horses cared for Cliff put together a large fire then to Zack’s shocked surprise he tossed on several branches of green pine. Zack said nothing as he watched the blaze began to eat at the dark green needles and put out a thick white smoke.

     Cliff sat down using a large rock as a backrest. Without turning he said to Zack. “Make yourself useful and cut a bunch more pine bows, we’ll send up smoke until dark.”

     Zack kept busy for an hour cutting bows and feeding them to the hungry fire. It was much better moving and working than sitting in the saddle all day getting stiff and sore. In his life Zack had traveled a lot but not as much as one would think on a horse. Most of his travels had been by train or coach and even on foot and each time he got on a horse for a day Zack found new sore spots.

     As he fed the fire Zack had figured out why Cliff had stopped in this spot and built such a smoky fire. The view of the valley and Hurricane Ridge were excellent and the excess smoke was a beacon. If Charlie was in the valley or on the Ridge he would eventfully see the smoke and answer.

     As the sun sat to the west Zack longingly gazed at the far ridge. “Do you think he’s out there?”

     “If he is I’ll find him or what’s left of him.” There was a firmness in his tone that bolstered Zack. After a few seconds he added in a much quieter tone. “Could be he’s found a little pocket and has his head buried in the sand. If he does he’ll see our smoke when he comes up for air.”

     As the sun set Cliff removed himself from the ground and began slicing bacon into a pan. That evening very little was said as doubt and fear began to creep into their thoughts.

     The following day was a copy of the previous afternoon with the same results. As the afternoon waned Cliff made one comment. “That’s a darn big valley yonder.” He paused a few seconds. “I recon you and the horses have had enough rest. We’ll ride on down there in the morning and have a look see.”

     “You think he is down there?” Zack asked hopefully.

     “I don’t know but if he’s there we’ll find him and if he was there we’ll know.”

     As the sun cast its morning light over the valley below Cliff and Zack moved down the hill. There was no path to follow and the going was slow but they were on the valley floor by midday. The time they spent on the ridge had depleted their water supply so it was a relief to find a small stream coming off the mountain cutting across the floor of the valley through the trees.

     Zack did not bother Cliff with talk; the older man was concentrating on the ground, watching for any sign of man or horses. He was moving south across the valley at a quicker pace then Zack would have considered.

     That evening there was no need for a smoky fire because they were surrounded by trees and the only sky they could see was directly overhead. What talk there was could only be considered small talk and unimportant but when Cliff was banking the fire he told Zack. “In the morning you ride east following the contour of the ridge. Watch for sign and if you come across any stop there and fire three shots then wait for me. If you don’t find any sign by dark then make camp and come back here in the morning. Got any questions?”

     “No, that’s simple enough for me.”

     That night Zack’s sleep was bothered by bad dreams. Once he woke, startled by a bad dream of their time in Alaska when Charlie had been attacked by a bear.

     The following morning Zack checked his canteen and made sure there was food for two days in his saddlebags then waved as Cliff rode west without a word. Throughout the day Zack watched the ground for any kind of sign but seen only tracks of animals. As the sun lowered he made camp at a small pond then fried bacon and ate hard tack with it plus a can of peaches. The following morning he turned his horse to the west and followed his tracks back to their camp of the previous day. It was still early and Cliff was not there so Zack rode out into the valley and returned with a deer. He had seen Charlie clean a deer several times and he tried to do as the old man had done. It was a poor job at the best but there was fresh meat and he began fixing a better meal than they had been eating the past couple weeks. That night he ate alone and Cliff was not in camp the following morning. After eating a filling noon meal Zack cleaned the camp and mounted then rode west following Cliff’s tracks.

     Zack followed the tracks three hours before they turned to the south into the face of the ridge that towered above him. Zack seen nothing but Cliff had surly found something to cause him to change directions so abruptly.

     In only a few minutes Zack found horse dropping that were old and dried out. He had no idea how old they were but he did know it was not Cliff’s horse that dropped the pile. The trail went up the slight slope and turned east following the contour of the land.

     At a stream Zack found an old camp with a well used fire pit. He found where several horses had been picketed then he found prospect holes along the stream bank. There was no doubt this was one of Charlie’s camps. Night was coming quick so Zack made his camp there along the creek and wondered if Charlie was nearby.

     With the coming of the sun Zack crossed the stream following Cliff’s tracks as they turned to parallel the stream up the hillside. Next to the stream Zack found many prospect holes on both sides. He figured Charlie had found something and was following it to find the source.

     The day grew longer and Zack found more holes and three more campsites so Charlie had not been in any kind of a hurry.

     Zack’s day ended when the stream turned sharply to the west. Here he made camp and slept soundly. He was up moving with the light, following the stream and the never ending prospect holes. That day the trail ended where the stream came from the mountain. The only way anyone was going to follow that stream was if he turned into a fish and swam upstream into the mountain. Zack was able to follow Cliff’s track as they left the stream to the west. It was hard riding but he managed, knowing he would be sore in the coming days. That night his camp was dry and worry was at the edge of his mind. He had hoped to find Cliff by this time but he had no idea how far behind the old scout he was.

     The next day Zack found water and a chill ran through him when he did. It was another stream rushing off the mountainside. Over time the stream had cut a gash in the land as it rushed by. The gash was not deep, about six feet but the banks were steep although not insurmountable, except for the dead horse in the bottom of the stream. The horse had no doubt slipped attempting to leave the streambed and fell breaking its neck. The saddle and bridle were in place but the rifle, saddlebags and bedroll were not.

     Zack dismounted and taking his rope he climbed into the stream; the smell of the rotting carcass was almost unbearable but he managed to loosen the cinch then put the loop on the pommel then climbed back to his horse and with some difficulty he pulled the saddle off the dead animal and out of the stream.

     Zack knew the underside of Charlie’s saddle was branded with a large C and turning the saddle over he found the brand. There was no doubt this was Charlie’s horse and saddle. Now he was worried even more, Charlie was out there somewhere possibly hurt although he did have his rifle, saddlebags and bedroll.

     The saddle was waterlogged but Zack rolled it the best that he could and tied it behind his saddle then turning downstream crossing there to avoid the smell.

     Once he was back on Cliff’s tracks he increased his pace and followed with a worried mind. Charlie was as tough as bull hide but he was getting up in years, Zack had no idea how old but he had to be over sixty.

     The tracks he followed stayed close to the stream following it farther into the mountains. The sun was lowering and the shadows were lengthening when the scent of smoke stopped him. He sniffed the breeze but the smell was no longer there. It was then he heard a low groan and muffled voices. The voices gave him a direction and he went on thinking that Charlie was alive but maybe hurt.

     “Hello.” Zack called.

     It was Cliff that replied. “If that’s you boss come on in.”

     Zack moved on and quickly found the smell of smoke then he seen flashes of movement through the trees. He went on until he came to Cliff’s horse where he dismounted and tied his horse.