Gold Fever is written in the first person as the author wanted his readers to see the story of Everett "Easy" Edwards through his eyes as he experiences his trials in life. The book starts with an action packed situation on the first page where his partner, Bill Shields and he are under siege by Apache Indians. The story moves quickly in a rapid action packed adventure. Easy travels on to the goldfields. Along the way he meets two miners that become life-long partners in this adventures. The three meet two young people, Al and Karen Harris and the six establish a lucrative gold mine. During this time Easy also meets a powerful, unscrupulous mine owner, Clay Brett, who befriends him then turns on him and hounds him throughout the book. Easy falls in love with Brett's step-daughter, Myra, and elopes with her. This only adds fuel to the fire of Brett's hatred for Easy. Easy is ambushed and is rescued by a fifteen year old orphan girl, Lara Adams, whose parents and brother were killed by Brett's men. She becomes Easy's unlikely partner and is featured in every adventure of Easy's life. The reader will love this girl as she is clever and unique. Their many adventures and narrow escapes will keep the reader on edge throughout the book.

GOLD FEVER

By William Post

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 William Post
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-7115-2

Chapter One

LOSING AND GAINING FRIENDS

I was lying between two rocks and I could see a rattlesnake coiled to strike not six feet from me. He was next to a juniper growing from under a rock giving him shade. He kept shaking his tail every minute or so. The sound sent chills up my spine even though it was blistering hot. I could feel sweat running down under my shirt as the sun was intense and I had no shade. It was real quiet except for the buzzing of that rattler. I wondered what the strike length was for that critter. I didn't want to find out, but the question was pertinent.

As scared as I was of that rattler, he didn't concern me nearly as much as them five Apaches that had us pinned down. Apaches are a patient breed. They can sit in one position for hours when stalking an animal. The animals this time were me and my pard, Bill Shields.

It's times like these that I'd ask myself why I left my daddy's farm in West Virginia. I had to work hard from sunup to sundown, but when the sun went down I was fairly certain I would see it the next day. The prospect of seeing the sun tomorrow didn't seem so likely right now.

Bill and I were riding along about half asleep when an Apache arrow came at me. It missed me, but killed a good horse. The arrow must have hit his heart because he went down like he'd been hit with a sledge hammer between the eyes. On the way down, I had shucked my Winchester, cleared the saddle, took one bounce and landed between these two rocks. I didn't know what happened to Bill. There hadn't been a sound after that except for the buzzing of that snake.

I really wanted to know where Bill was located, but I wasn't of the mind to ask him right now. I knew enough about what happens to captives of an Apache to give me the patience of Job in the Scriptures. I had been lying in one spot for nearly an hour now. That snake just sat there staring at me. Every time I would move a muscle he would start that buzzing again. I decided that I should get into a better fighting position snake or no snake.

It was about four in the afternoon when I heard a bird call. Now I ain't no pilgrim so I knew the difference. I pulled my peacemaker and put it in my waistband. I sat up with my back to the larger of the rocks and pointed my Winchester at a forty-five degree angle to have it in position. Sooner or later they were bound to come for me or I would die of starvation or thirst because I wasn't moving.

I heard three rapid shots off to my right and a split second later an Apache jumped over the rock in front of me. I shot him in the face and his momentum carried him to me. I shoved him in the direction of that rattler and the snake struck and bit him. I guess it just wasn't his day. I knew I had to move so I was up and running toward the sound of those shots which I knew were Bill's. I nearly tripped over another Apache that Bill had sent to the "happy huntin' land." When I got to Bill there was another dead Indian at his feet. Bill was just sitting there with an arrow sticking out of his midsection. I looked around as rapidly as I could.

In a matter-of-fact voice Bill said, "They pulled their freight pard, but they left me with a souvenir. I guess I bought the farm this trip."

I said, "I can take that arrow out."

Bill said, "No, it won't make no difference either way. It won't be long now, I'm gettin' real cold and I know the temperature ain't dropped."

"Can I do anything for you pard?"

"You can write my mom and tell her I had an accident. In a way it was an accident. Tell her I died well with a good friend by my side."

With that Bill's eyes rolled up and he was gone. I got to my dead horse and stripped the saddle from him. I took a blanket from my bedroll back to where Bill lay. I wrapped him in it gentle-like and carried him to a dry creek that was about fifty feet away. I had no shovel so I put him under the overhang of a six foot bluff and caved it off to cover him. I then placed rocks over the dirt to keep the varmints from getting to him.

After I finished I pulled off my hat and said, "Lord, Bill was a good pard. He done a good day's work for a days pay. He never shirked a task given him and he made mighty good biscuits. Take him to Your bosom Lord, and give him the love he never got down here. Amen."

I picked up my saddlebags and canteen in my left hand and carried my Winchester in my right. I began walking keeping a sharp eye out for them Indians. I had walked about a half mile when I saw Bill's horse standing between two giant junipers cropping grass. I didn't want to spook him so I started talking softly. His head came up and I walked slowly toward him calling his name. When he heard his name he started for me so I just waited for him. I felt great relief knowing I would be mounted again.

I was still uneasy about them two bucks that had taken out. They would still be sore about the sendoff Bill and I gave their friends. I had both canteens so I gave Bill's black some water out of my hat. I taken a couple of swigs myself before we moved out again.

We traveled until it was too dark to see. I located a campsite against a hill that had some boulders in front so that I could put up a defense should the occasion arise. I built a fire no bigger than my hat crown behind one of them rocks. I boiled some coffee and heated a tin of beans. There was some grass between the rocks and the bluff of the hill so I staked out "Shiny" as Bill called his big black.

I was christened Everett Zechariah Edwards. Because of my initials everyone called me "Easy", which don't bother me none. I was just over six feet two and was just shy of two hundred pounds which was mostly muscle from the hard work I done all my life. My hair was dark brown and thick like my ma's. I tried to keep it trimmed, but it grew so fast that it was often unruly. My eyes were brown and some people referred to them as sharp, whatever that means. I had just turned twenty-seven. I had quick reflexes and I owed that to my pa who often as not took a slap at me. He only hit me once, because after that I was too quick for him.

My two older brothers were what most people in the county called good scrappers. They worked at it because they just plain liked to fight. After I was fourteen both of them quit picking on me because I wopped the tar out of them a couple of time. I don't like to fight, but I'm a natural at it. It's mostly my quick reflexes. When I'm fightin,' I can anticipate a punch before it's thrown and can hit while the other guy is just startin' to move. I found most fights are won before they start anyhow. I never knew a man who won a fight he thought he was going to lose. I just always knew I was going to win and that's how it's been up until now.

Bill and I had worked on the JO Ranch down on the Nueces River in South Texas for the past four years. We spent the springs, summers and falls working cattle, but in the winter we mostly spent our time honing up on our shooting. Old Jake use to complain about the amount of ammunition we used up. Bill had a real fast draw and worked with me on it. Like I said I have quick reflexes and before long Bill wasn't even in it with me when it come to a fast draw. I was always a good shot with a rifle. My pa took the time to show me that.

We had wintered last year with an old-timer named Dion Ocheski. He and his brother had gone to California in forty-nine and hit it rich. He said once you get gold fever it's bad. It's...