Gold always is, was, and will be where you find it.
The biggest and most famous find was by James Marshall in January of 1848 at Sutter’s Mill, a sawmill owned by John A. Sutter—a find which set off a stampede of prospectors and land pirates, some of whom didn’t know their assays from a hole in the ground.
After most of the California claims had been staked out and worked, many of those same prospectors whose prospects hadn’t lived up to expectations began to backtrack from west to east in search of diggings that might have been overlooked in the westward stampede.
The first and most fertile finds occurred in the vast and varied expanse of Arizona; in the beginning, along the streams and rivers—the Colorado, the Gila, the Hassayampa—and later through all the mountainous regions of the Territory. Men such as Jacob Snively, Paulino Weaver and Henry Wickenburg hastened to exploit the terrain that had become a part of America’s Manifest Destiny by virtue of the Gadsen Purchase in 1854.
But with the breakout of the Civil War in 1861 and the withdrawal of the army, the mines as well as the ranches of Arizona were left virtually defenseless. Apaches surged through the countryside in a rampage of ruination—destroying, burning and killing.
But after the official War Between the States, another less official but still deadly war was fought between the army and the Apaches—Apaches whose numbers were miniscule compared to the Confederates, but who were just as determined to fight, and often to die fighting.
The U.S. Army won that war, too. But some Indians wouldn’t believe it. Despite the sporadic Apache rebellions, the Arizona mines were back in business—or trying to get back. Among the latter was the Rattlesnake.
The supplies in the wagon brought in by Ike and Ben were being unloaded by some of the miners. Ike, Ben and Sean Dolan sat on a fallen timber in one of the few shady sections of the area.
“Well, Sean,” Ike asked, “what shape’s the mine in?”
“Not as bad as I thought.”
“Oh?”
“Worse.”
“Oh.”
“Hasn’t been worked since the war started. Whatever time and the weather didn’t ruin, the Apaches did. Seems they don’t welcome intruders on their land, or in it.”
“Can’t say I blame ’em too much,” Ike said. “This was their real estate for a long time.”
“That’s one way of lookin’ at it.”
“It’s their way.”
“Reckon so. They did their best to knock down all the shoring and do whatever other damage they could think of—and they thought of plenty. It’ll take us a long time before we can do some real diggin’ and come out with gold.”
“If there’s any gold left.”
“Son, I can smell gold like a jackass can smell water.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.” Ike smiled.
“Who else would I be sure of? At least when it comes to yellow. It’s been my life since I started swingin’ a pick at the age of eleven. I don’t know much else, but I know gold.”
“‘Gold! Gold! Gold!’” Ike looked toward the shaft of the mine. “ ‘Bright and yellow, hard and cold.’ ”
“What’s that?”
“Part of a poem.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Well, let me see—‘Sought by the young, hugged by the old. To the very verge of the churchyard mold . . .’ Something like that.”
“Yeah, and it’s true, with me and a lot of other prospectors. You know, Ike, there’s a lot of other ways—if not easier, more certain—to make money, but there’s somethin’ about that stuff that gets into your veins along with your blood.”
“It sure got into yours.”
“I can’t exactly explain it, but I figure the Almighty put everything on this earth for a purpose, on land and sea. It’s funny, there ain’t that much purpose for gold. The world could sure get along without it. But there’s somethin’ about it. . . .”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Sean.”
“Maybe I’m not either, but . . . well, that watch you carry for instance. Let me see it for a minute, will you?”
Ike lifted the watch and chain from his vest and handed it to Dolan, who let it rest in the palm of his calloused hand.
“This timepiece could be made of a lot of other metals and still keep the same time. Right?”
“Right.”
“But there’s somethin’ about its being made of gold that makes it different.” He handed the watch back to Ike. “You’ve got to admit it’s beautiful.”
“Yes, I do,” Ike said as he looked at the watch.
“Same with a gold ring or a gold coin. And there’s only so much of it, so people like me have to dig for it and people like you pay us for it—pay for all of us who find it, and even for those of us who don’t.”
Ike put the watch and chain back into his vest and into his pocket. “I never thought about it in those terms.”
“You know somethin’, Ike? Neither did I . . . at least not in those exact terms. But everythin’ I’ve got in this world except for some loose change is invested in the Rattlesnake, and these men here, they’re workin’ for short money—awful short—but also for shares. So, brother, there better be some gold in that shaft. See what I mean?”
“I do.” Ike rose. “And we better be getting back.”
Ben also rose and spoke for the first time since they had sat on the fallen timber.
“Mister Dolan,” he said, “I wish you luck.”
“Thanks, and I’m glad to see you workin’ with Big Ike. You could do a lot worse.”
“I have.” Ben almost smiled.
They started back toward the empty wagon. Ike looked at the sign Sean Dolan and the miners had placed above the shaft of the tunnel. He pointed.
“How come they call it the Rattlesnake?”
“Fella shot one up here and split a rock. When he looked at it, it was filled with gold.”
“The rattlesnake?” Ike smiled.
“No, the rock. Sure you don’t care to stay for supper?”
“Thanks, no. We’ll be home for supper.”
So Ike thought.
But from a far-above vantage point, Quemada, Secorro and three other mounted young Apaches watched as the wagon with Ike Silver and Ben Brown rolled away from the Rattlesnake Mine.