TWENTY-SEVEN

 

 

May 23rd, 1887

Central Idaho Mountains

 

WADE HAD BEEN surprised at how much he had enjoyed the two weeks in Boise in 1902. During that time, both he and Sophie had gotten much more comfortable on horses and learned how to care for them and saddle them and brush and feed them.

They both had also learned to shoot their saddle rifles and both had learned how to act as a married couple of money in 1902.

The last part had been the hardest for Wade. Sophie caught on quickly to that since she said she grew up with a lot of rules in New Jersey. She had also been a natural with a rifle, something that seemed to even surprise her.

Duster had spent a few hours teaching them how to pan for gold, the hardest work that a human should ever be allowed to do. If it wasn’t for some lotion that Bonnie had brought along, Wade was convinced his hands would not have recovered quickly.

Now, after two weeks, it was just Duster with the two of them headed into the tall mountains of central Idaho. Around them the mountains towered impossibly high into the crisp blue sky. The pine trees smelled wonderful under the warming sun, and the snow on the mountains seemed to shine like a beacon of brightness.

Both Wade and Sophie had one packhorse each. They carried enough supplies to last for a month without problem. It would allow them to set up a camp in the future home of Grapevine Springs they could leave to go back into Boise in a month.

During the three-day ride into the mountains, they had seen a number of bear and more deer than Wade could count. Duster had taught them how to catch trout and how to cook them over an open campfire so that they tasted like a chef in San Francisco had done the job.

Both Sophie and Wade had decided that cooked like that, they wouldn’t get tired of fresh-caught trout.

Duster had laughed and said that he never did. Considering how many thousands of years Duster had lived in the past, that was amazing to Wade.

Duster wasn’t going all the way with them into the valley. He was going to show them the entrance to the drainage for Grapevine Springs valley and then head back to Boise.

The stream that flowed through the town site and down the valley was called Shannon Creek. None of them could figure out how the stream got its name. More than likely, Wade decided, it hadn’t been named yet.

They had about a two-day ride to the future town site up the drainage from where he was going to leave them. Duster warned them about a few areas along the rough game trail. No trail in there was cut.

At one point, when describing the two-day ride they had into the future site of Grapevine Springs, Duster had said, “Some real rough stuff, so go slow.”

Wade hadn’t liked the sound of that in the slightest. And having Duster leave them scared Wade and Sophie more than either of them wanted to admit. Being alone in a wilderness was one thing, being alone in a wilderness well over a hundred years in the past was downright terrifying.

Duster just radiated confidence and considering the vast amount of years he had spent in the wilderness and in western towns, his knowledge seemed to be like a light to Wade in the darkness.

But now he and Sophie needed to go it alone. And into a valley that Duster, a man completely comfortable in the wilderness, thought was “Some rough stuff.”

But history said they went in alone. The great Duster Kendal had not been with them when they entered the valley the first time.

The plan was that Sophie and Wade were to set up a camp and then pan for gold in the valley. They were to stake out a placer claim along the most open and flat part of the valley where the future mining town of Grapevine Springs would be, then head back to Boise with their gold and detailed, hand-drawn maps of the area.

That part would take about a month total, Duster had figured.

In Boise, Duster would help them through the process, be a secret investor, and they would file the claims as well as a plat for a proposed town mostly on their claims.

Then, with Duster with them, they would go back in and stay and work the placer and build a general store until just before winter set in, then go back to Boise to live in the institute until the spring.

Duster had suggested at that point that they might want to winter in the valley if they could get a house built before the snow started, but both Sophie and Wade had decided to hold that decision until later.

Wade was convinced it was a great plan, following what all of them knew from history of what Sophie and Wade Olsen had done.

But reading about it in history was one thing, riding along a streambed on a narrow game trail with snow-capped mountains towering over him was another thing completely.

Duster got Sophie and Wade both squared away the last night he was with them around the fire as they finished dinner. They had camped on a flat area above Shannon Creek.

The stream was wide at this area and high, running fast over rocks. To Wade it looked dangerous from all the spring runoff of the snow. Duster had told them they wouldn’t need to cross the stream until just below the town site where the stream would be much smaller.

Duster had assured them that the stream wouldn’t be like that at all up at the town site. “Good fishing there,” he had said.

Wade and Sophie had pitched their tent, but Duster said he wanted to sleep out under the stars, even though the night was cold and the air still damp.

At first light of the sun coloring the tops of the nearby mountains, Wade left Sophie snuggled down in their bedding and climbed out of the tent.

Duster was gone.

They were alone.

In the most rugged and dangerous wilderness on the continent.

In 1887.

Terrified didn’t begin to describe how he felt.

Somehow, he managed to not just crawl back into the bedding with the woman he loved.

Somehow, he managed to start the day.

Somehow.