Day was here.  Though my eyes were closed I knew it by the morning sounds and the soft, wet sensation of Jake licking my hand.  Jake was about all the family I had these days, but what more could a man want than a faithful dog and a good rifle.  He was a golden lab mix who had been my companion  for nearly five years, three of which we had spent on our own.  After Mama and Pa had died of the fever I had tried to keep the farm running but it was more than a fourteen year old boy could handle.  It had never had much of a chance and when I sold it I barely had enough to make it out to California.  Looking back it might not have been the wisest of choices, but I had set my hopes on California gold and headed out at the first rumors when I heard them.  When we finally made it to the gold filled streams of California after eight months of hard travel, I set myself up on a small claim on a small stream.  There wasn't much gold where I set up but there weren't many people ether.  After two hard years thing were finally looking up for me and Jake.  We had a good tent, plenty of food and a washing outfit all to ourselves.

After I woke I set about making preparations for the day.  There was a spot about two hundred yards down stream that looked good for panning at so I thought I'd give it a try today.  Then, some time after noon I would go hunting and shoot a couple of squirrels.  Breakfast of coffee, fried sliced ham and cold cornbread made and eaten, I set out down the river to pan for some gold.  As I walked along the bank the sparkling creek gurgled and splashed on my left and the trees rustled in the breeze as the birds sand among their branches. It was a beautiful summer day and Jake seemed to enjoy it as much as I.  While I had made my breakfast I had thought about my past and now as I walked to my place of employment I thought about my future.  What would happen when the gold ran out?  Most 49ers had a home waiting for them back east, but me I had nowhere to go.  As I bent down and filled my pan with sand and water (and hopefully gold).  As I panned for nearly an hour I continued to think about my future.  One way I could make a living was hunting and trapping. I also knew that the sooner I started the better.  At any rate, today was not my day for washing, I had only found around twenty-five cents worth of gold, I could make more money peeling potatoes.  Dumping out my pan, I set off towards camp to try my luck at something else, anything else.
On arriving back at camp I ate a cold lunch of bread and meat as it was about eleven o' clock.  Hunting.  I would go hunting.  So I set off towards the woods with a rifle, a squirrel gun and a trusty hunting dog.  I always knew I loved the forest and now I remember why.  As we walk through the cathedral doors my eyes followed the broad arches up to the magnificent ceiling of green with its patches of blue and white.  All around me I could hear the woodland sounds but one sticks out.  It is the sound of a squirrel.  I raised the smaller of my fire arms to my shoulder and quickly ended the sound.  Jake speedily fetched the  prize and we moved on through the brush.  After walking for about an hour I was about to take another shot at a squirrel when Jake's head perked up, his ears faced foreword and his left paw lifted.  It took me several seconds to spot what his keen senses had noticed.  Under an oak tree nearly one-hundred and fifty feet up wind stood a good sized male mule deer.  In a second he trotted silently off to circle around to drive the buck my way.  After about fifteen minutes the deer finally began to show signs of agitation and then a minute later he began to move in my direction.  A mere ten yards from where I sat, crouched behind a tree the buck stopped to look back. I had my shot.  As I lined up the rifle my hands shook so much it was necessary to steady it against the tree.  Holding my breath to take the shot, I pulled the trigger sending a lead ball straight at my target. 
Jake was quickly at my side as I was quickly to the place the deer had stood.  My dog was again the first to sense any sign of the deer, this time some of his blood on the ground.  The shot had been true, and guessing from the amount of blood the buck had left behind, quickly lethal.  Jake was now moving at a fast jog on the trail and forced me to do the same.  Coming over a small ridge we came across the last signs of struggle between our fleet footed friend and death.  The later was speedily aided by my buck knife to end the former's pain.  As we had run after the deer I had searched my mind for what I knew of field dressing one of these fine animals.  I had seen it done once before though I had paid less attention then I now wished I had.  Cut through the skin of the belly and then make my way through the abdominal muscles that much I knew from gutting smaller game.  The rest I would have to figure out, but that was how we do things these days.  Get in there and get your hands dirty.
If shooting a deer was the skillful part of hunting it was by no means the easy one.  It was nearly an hour before I had finished my rough job of gutting the buck.  Hot and sweaty, I left Jake to guard our prize while I went back to camp for the mule and sled.  In fifteen minutes I was back at camp and I decided to rid myself of the blood and sweat by way of a dip in the creek.  I had to be quick as it was already almost three in the afternoon and I wanted to get the deer to town by the end of the day.  In thirty minutes I found myself back at the gutting with the mule and sled.  Lifting the carcass on the sled I called Jake away from his snack of the unwanted entrails and headed back towards camp.  Most of the path which we had to traverse was relatively easy going as the ground was even and the ferns that covered this part of the forest floor made an excellent surface for the runners to slide along. On arriving at camp once again I made preparations for the trip to town, I would have to eat on my way there.
As we started off towards town I started off thinking of how much changed California was.  When I first came out it seemed a land of wonder, hope and prosperity.  Now everything was changed.  It was not uncommon to hear of a murder or of a man hung for doing it.  The California gold was turning sour and turning everything it touched seemed to evil.  It's true enough, what the Good Book says, That “money is the root of all evil.”  Once I got to town there was some business I needed to attend to, something other than selling the deer, something I needed to buy.
Charlie's shop was my first stop in town.  Charlie was an expert in anything connected to the processing of animals and hopefully my buyer for my buck.  Tying the mule to the hitching post I walked up the rough wood steps and into the shop. 
“Well, well, well,” comes Charlie's voice from behind the counter, “If it isn't Mr. William P. Clark. What can I do for you, son?”
“I've got some fresh meat for you Charlie.  Would you mind coming out to take a look at it?”
“Sure thing, son. I'll be there in a minute.”
I walk back out soon followed by the meat processor who begins to inspect the deer.
“You've got a nice buck here, boy.  How does fifty dollars sound to ya?” 
“Throw in a pound of jerky and you've got a deal.”
Charlie nods in the affirmative and I drive the sled around back for his son to unload.  I step back into the shop to collect my payment. 
“Will we be seeing more of you soon,son?” Charlie says as he weighs out the pound of jerky.
“I think so. I'm planning on selling my cradle and moving to full time hunting.”
“That's good, we'll both do well by it with meat prices where they are and keep you clear of the gold claims.  Did you hear?  Another murder down by 'Dead Man's canyon'.”
“Hardly surprises you these days, huh?  I'll see you around Charlie.”
My second and final stop in town would be the general store.  This shop was run by Jim Hearthton and his wife Emily.  Like most stores of its kind you could find almost anything there.
“Howdy.” came Jim's characteristic greeting as I came through the door.
“Hello, Jim.” I replied.
I was not long in picking out the things I needed and I walked over to the glass display case to look over the contents.  There it sat, a forty-four caliber Colt Dragoon.  It was something I needed as much as I hopped I'd never have to use it.  My time in town had not been long and I now headed out and back to camp.
It was dusk when I arrived home and everything seemed to be in order.  I made a fire, loaded my new revolver and lay down on my cot.  It had been a good day, full of work and adventure.  Though many harder were sure to come, I would make it. That's how do things these days. That's how we do things out west.