The clear water splashed up as the silver pail revealed nothing but dirt and rocks that wished to be gold. Running his hands through his hair, the tall, pale-skinned man stood up, letting the dirt drop down next to him on the river side.
The trees had become barren in the last few days, but they still looked at him like the old friend he was. He crouched back down to the water's edge and stuck his plate back into the rushing water’s dirty ground. His eyes focused on the pail as his hands started switching and swishing the dirt around. His mind had become tired, hands cold, and soul dreary, but as he moved the dirt about, his blue eyes fell on a single speck of luck, gold.
“I'll be ole maid.” Standing up, he took the speck of yellow in his hand and looked downriver to where a sturdy worn out old bay horse stood in the shadow of the many great Canadian mounts. “This what we been scampering about for.” A smile grew on his face as the man pulled out a small leather pouched and stuck the gold speck into the small collection he already possessed.
“Ole maid.” He spoke softly to the old bay mare. “I reckon that there’s a bought a meal’s worth for the two for us.” The hungry man stood breathing in the crypt air that flowed down from the mounts through the trees and to his lungs.
The old horse gave him no glance she just dropped her head back down to drink. As he rushed through the sand he watching her silver bit dropped into the cold water. She was a reflection of him and he the same for her.
The mare allowed the great Yukon’s Rabbit Creek water to run over her hooves as she slowly drank its pail water. When she lifted her head she bit her tongue for the water was too cold for her likings.
“Ole Maid,” He reached over stroking her warm coat. “I bet you gonna like my girl.” He continued to rustle through the dirt with hope still in eyes who had not seen another human in months. “I betten she gonna like you back.” The middle aged man looked into the pail and gazed at the old man who looked back.
“Missie May,” he sighed. “She’s been all I thinken of since the day her father bought my lil red steer. She been asking that day to stay home, but he didn't let her and I’m sure glad he didn’t.”
He looked to the old horse making sure she was listening to his rambled worlds. “She been begging him the day I left for her to come on too. I told her to stay in the warmth, but she done wanna come along on the adventure. Had to leave that night, but didn’t want her comin’ along, so I just left without saying goodbye to er.” He smiled as he thought of the girl he had left years ago. For moments he remained silent, just looking at the rushing waters that held the gold which he wished to possess.
“Ole Maid,” He stood dumping his last pail out and walking to the rugged horse’s side. “Tomora we gonna ride on up to camp and sell this here gold. I reckon we got enough to get us both home with a lot left over. Home to my gal.” He rubbed the horse's forehead as her eyes closed and she became relaxed. For weeks on end it had been the two of them fighting the cold, for gold.
“I know ya have lived here yeah whole life, but trust me you gonna like the warm weather in the south and my girl. She gonna love yeah Ole Maid. My girl has always wanted a horse to call her own and you is it.”
He leaned on the old horse as he glanced into the water. “She tall like her mama, Rose. All legs and grace in one human. Can ya believe that? What a steal.”
He grabbed the lead rope and together, pail in hand, they walked back to the tent on the hill. “She’s a good cooker. Missie been like that since they day she was born. All she do is bake, bake, and then bake some more.” He tied the horse to a single post that had been pounded into the ground months before by a man who no longer walked this riverbank.
“Just can wait to tell er all I've been doing. Them crazy folk who be gold crazy since day one of comen here. Especail ole Mica Mine.” He dropped damp wood on to the slowly building fire and watched the flames thaw out the wood and his tingling fingers. “Mica Mine.” He chuckled as he sat down by the horse's front legs and together watched the flames dance. “Meester Mine. He was a man who came on down ta this rive. Lost four mares on the way, bet they still layin there in der snowy grave.”
The man looked to the horse with a cold heart that no longer could be warmed.
“What a legend he thought he would be. Just coming down here with a large mouth and pickaxe.” He breathed deep, running his fingers through the horse’s mud crunched mane. “He came down when the river was packed with them men from head to toe. Thought he would just move by at the sight of it, but he just threw his tack down by the river side and started to make dirt into gold.”
Looking across the river, the man gazed to where the remains of a tent esque fort had once been. His eyes grew green with envy as he thought of the man who had been there before.
“He had the biggest rock we folk ever seen come out of this river. Said it was world record or something. That greedy fool regretted everything for dat night we and a lad from philly took guns and knifes to snag us a chunks that rock from God.”
He looked down to a cut in his pant leg. Throught the slit he gazed at a scar layn in his skin by a knife. “When we arrived the fool was gone up river, back to his home. See he packed up with that rock round his neck and jumped up on his horse and rode off. People said he didn’t get even a mile up river before that poor pack horse was swaying from the weight. They sayin he tried to cross the river and the rock returned itself to it, taking him and the ole pack horse with em.”
A small smirk came over the man and his heart grew cold as the water that would soon be filled with ice once more. “Never had I seen so many men rush into the river, not for the man, but the gold and horse. Gredy lil fellas. They started diving in and out of the icey current, but the gold took its greedy owner with him.”
He rubbed his hand on his pants, then on the back of his head and looked at the old horse. His eyes dropped as he looked to the mare’s ice covered hooves and he became silent. “Missie gonna take real good care of yeah Ole Maid. She gonna actually love me when I bring her back twice the much gold as that fool had.” His shaky hands picked up a brown pebble. He flipped it twice in hand as he drew deep into thoughts. The rugged land was taking its tole on him as it had the other. The others had drawn back from the water's edge and moved onto high grounds leaving his soul here to beg God for what he had lost.
“We gonna be coming home soon, real soon.” He leaned his head in hands and watched the fire dance in the ways of the indians.
He had nothing to eat, but the fish he brought, nothing to drink by the same water as his horse. As the fire died from lack of wood, he stood up, pail in hand, and walked down to the river side with a limp in his step. Digging into the ground as he had for the last two years. As he stumbled to the water's edge, the old horse took in one deep breath filling in the missing gaps between it ribs.