Chapter 5

FEVER

Still the snow did not retreat
But after days turned into sleet
And ever further bound these men
Together here, trapped again.

On the fortnight that had passed
The taunted men, then at last,
Had gone to drink and to sleeping
And hid their gold for safe keeping.

Hidden in the rafter's joists,
Hidden under beds of choice,
Hidden now from plain view,
Hidden while their tempers grew. 

Bill still cooked most every day
And whistled softly while Bart lay
On his cot to face the wall
And tried to ignore it all.

Once he slept under Bartrums's bed
And Bart aroused with anger's dread
Accused Bill of trying to find
His poke of gold and jug of wine.

Their first fight was swift and sure
And roundly caused Bill to endure
Two black eyes and swollen lips
And some bitten fingertips.

Three weeks since Tom had died,
His partners still were prone to hide
Their pokes of gold here and there
and watch the other with a stare.

Soon the food and goods were low
And still the white cursed snow
Dribbled down in misty form
Made them wish they’d not been born.

"Bill, I told you once before
The cooking still is your chore."
"And you Bart, go get some wood!
Have you forgotten Mister Hood?"

Bart's lips curled and yellow teeth
Attested there was no relief
From the ill feelings spawned
And by Billie's endless song.

Okay, okay, Ill get the wood
Just tend your cooking, make it good.
I’ll get the damned wood alight,
There better be good food tonight."

Bart dawned his parka, gloves and hat
And once outside the door he spat
And grumbled in his usual way
When he had not much to say.

Outside at the cabin's face
Where they had cleared a path to trace
So wood could easily be gotten
Bart grumbled, "I've not forgotten!"

The night was crisp with northern lights
And mountains north in shadow sights
Shown just how remote they were
And Bart shook and quipped,"Burr."

Two or three trips to the door
With arm loads of wood "One more."
And with that load Bart stopped still
And listened in the northern chill.

At first he didn't hear so much,
Just the wind in some loose brush.
Then a sound came through the door
Like table legs pulled on the floor.

Bart's eyes widened to their peak
And red blood rushed to frigid cheeks
As Bart's worst nightmare had came true
He screamed,"Hey wait, I'm not through!"

He straddled the wood at the door
And jerked the handle as before.
The door did not give an inch.
He pulled again and gave a wince,

 Again and again he hit the door
 While screaming, "God, forever more,
 Open up this door to me,
 Please open Bill, I beg of thee!"

 But even now he heard inside
 Furniture with scrape and slide
 Across the wooden, knotty floor
 And knew that Bill was moving more.

 Bart jerked his head to the right
 And saw the cabins inward light
 And strode his paces ever faster
 To stave off his own disaster.

 Six paces to the window's edge,
 Then came a bullet to the ledge
 And shattered wood and splinters found
 The face of Bart and spun him round.

 The blood oozed from Bart's left cheek
 And Bill inside found nerve to speak.
 "You'll not beat me like that again,
 You'll get what Tom got in the end."

 "I'll blow your head to kingdom come
 Then all the gold will be for one.
 I'll have it all, just wait and see.
 Enough for one and that one's me!"

 "Now Bill, you can have the gold,
 Take it easy, be controlled.
 But please allow me some slight break
 And save me now for goodness sake."

 "There is no goodness in your soul,
 Now you'll join Tom in the cold
 And tell him when you see him there
 How grateful I am for his share."

  While Bill was talking 'bout the gold
 Bart climbed the side in snow and cold
 And crossed the roof to chimney pipe
 And now he thought, "The time is right,

 He stuffed his gloves into the pipe
 Until they slid down out of sight
 And slipped across the roof of snow
 And stopped just where the light would show.

 Minutes passed and Bart waited,
 Minutes more and he elated
 Heard a coughing from within,
 "Time to pay, Bill, for your sin."

 Then open swung the cabin door
 And out smoke billowed and poured
 And Billy stumbled through it all
 To answer Bart's demented call.

 Coughing, sputtering, shooting wild
 Came William Johnston, truly riled
 And from the roof's overhang
 Bartholomew Tozel's harsh voice rang.

 "Now you bastard, you are mine!"
 And leapt on Bill from behind
 And fell him to the snowy ground
 With an ominous, crushing sound.

 To the gun just where it lay
 Bart jumped again with this to say,
 "Now Billy boy, you're nearly dead,
 How about some white-hot lead?" 

 Time after time he shot poor Bill,
 Time after time he withered still,
 Each time Bart shot him there
 Until he stopped and only stared.

 Bart standing in the snowy freeze
 Declared his victory to trees
 And challenged wolves or what may come
 To wrestle Bart, for number one.

For moments Bart stood full erect
And savored well the wild's respect
For he alone now had it all,
The gold, the food, the fucking gall!

Moments passed and in the snow
The blood took on a haunting glow.
Like life itself, its spirit's path,
To write one miners epitaph.

~Robert E Browne~