Rider Chan and the Night River

ONCE UPON A TIME, two brothers were born in a small village near the ocean in south China. Their father died soon after, and it was their mother who raised them. Though she loved her sons deeply, she had little time for them, because she was kept very busy planting and harvesting rice, weaving cloth and mending clothes, and tending the pigs and chickens.

The two boys grew up, but they were as different as day from night. One brother helped his mother in the fields; the other played games with the lazy village children. One brother filled his mother’s bowl with rice every night. The other ate and ran off without a word. One brother went deep into the hills to collect firewood, but the other feared the dark and refused to go.

When news of the gold rush in the New World reached the village, the mother decided that her sons should go there to seek their fortunes. Before they left, she bade them farewell and said, “You are grown men now, but still you must take care. The spirits in the New World are mighty and mysterious because there are fewer humans about. So beware!”

When the brothers reached the New World, the hard-working brother found work immediately. He became a courier because he was strong and husky, honest and fearless. It was his job to visit all the mining claims, all the shanty towns, and all the riverside camps throughout the gold country. He took messages and medicine to the miners and collected their letters and gold to be sent home to China. The miners called him Rider Chan and shouted out hearty welcomes whenever he galloped through on his swift gray horse.

Rider took care to send money back to his mother whenever he could. As for his brother, he disappeared into the gold territory like so many other miners, and Rider never heard from him again.

Late one afternoon, Rider Chan was asked to take some medi¬cine to a miner who had been crushed under a rockslide. Rider did not usually travel at night, because outlaws knew that he carried gold and money, and they were always looking for opportunities to rob him. But a man’s life was at stake, so Rider saddled up his horse, strapped on his pistol, and off he rode.

The moon shone full and bright that night. Rider Chan rode and rode, listening hard and staying well in the middle of the trail away from the shadows of the forest. Then he found his path cut off by a river—a river that glistened and shimmered as if it were alive.

Rider hesitated. He had heard tales that at night, the spirits of the drowned reached up from the bottom of lakes and rivers and pulled down new victims to replace their own rotted bodies.

He looked over the river. It seemed shallow and clear. He nudged his horse forward. The water crept up, past his toes and then to the top of his boots. Then, just as he spurred his horse to go faster, something grabbed his ankle.

“Go!” he screamed at his horse, but the hand under the water held him tight. His mount reared up and whinnied in panic, but could not move an inch.

Rider Chan drew his pistol and fired blindly into the water, but still his foot was held tight.

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He dropped his gun and pulled at his leg with both his hands, but the water spirit was stronger. The horseman almost toppled into the river, but he caught himself. If he fell in, he knew he would be finished.

The spirit pulled harder and harder. Rider Chan began to weaken. He felt himself sliding off his horse.

“No!” he cried. “Don’t take me! I have a mother to care for!”

But the dark spirit was not listening.

“Spare me!” Rider Chan pleaded. “I’m the courier! I carry medicine to a sick man!”

At once the grip loosened. Rider Chan galloped away. Safely ashore, he pinched his leg and discovered with a whoop of joy that he was still whole.

Then he turned back to the dark river. “Thank you for sparing my life,” he called out. “I owe you a favor.”

And at that, a figure suddenly rose out of the water. As it came close, Rider Chan saw slimy rags hanging from a body of bones. The stench of rotting flesh filled the night. Rider wanted to run, but he could not. After all, a promise was a promise.

The ghost drew near. “You are the courier,” said a hollow voice. “I ask a simple favor. Bury my body on the shore. Wait, and when only my bones are left, dig them up and send them back to China.”

The horseman bowed in agreement. He kept his eyes down, for he was afraid to see what the spirit’s face might look like. But as the ghost passed by, heading for the shore, Rider Chan saw a knife protruding from its back.

“Who did this to you?” he cried out.

The ghost stopped. “I am ashamed to tell you,” it said.

“Should not justice be done?” Rider Chan called out.

“I do not deserve justice,” replied the ghost. “My partner and I struck gold, not far from here. I went to town to register the claim. Greed filled me, so I poisoned the food I took back. But my partner was greedy, too, and he jumped me and killed me. After dumping my body into the river, he ate the food I had brought. So he died, too.”

Rider Chan shook his head. “May you both rest in peace.”

“The tale is not finished,” said the dark shadow. “My partner was your brother!”

Rider Chan stopped breathing.

“When you said you were the courier,” continued the ghost, “I knew who you were. I want to make amends.”

Rider Chan trembled.

“Our lucky find of gold is still safe, not far from here. Go there, gather up the gold, and send it back to your mother. Let our sad escapade bring some happiness to her. Alas, cougars and vultures have destroyed your brother’s body, so no bones are left.”

The courier thought it over. “I will send gold home to China. But I will let your story die here, between you and me, because the truth about my brother would surely kill my mother.”

“So be it,” said the ghost. And, after explaining where the gold lay, it fell down at Rider Chan’s feet.

Rider Chan dug a grave by the river and covered the ghost’s remains with soil and a few prayers. Following the ghost’s instructions, he went upriver, gathered up the gold, and sent it back to his mother in China.

Not long after, she died, too, but with a peaceful smile on her face.