The Way West Read Free Page A

Tadlock turned to Evans. "You know a good pilot?"
   "I don't guess so."
   "You talk as if you might."
   "I was just thinkin'."
   Tadlock waited.
   "I reckon I do know one. Gettin' him is the question."
   "Who is it?"
   "I don't know as I ought to say before I can talk to him myself. Maybe he wouldn't appreciate my sayin'."
   "Why would he object?"
   Mack ordered drinks again, motioning to Hitchcock.
   "I don't know. Maybe he wouldn't."
   "How could it hurt to tell? It doesn't commit him -and we've got to know if we're going to put the proposition. There ought to be a nice piece of money in it for him. Not as much as with a big company, but the worry and work would be less."
   "Well," Evans said, taking the refilled glass, "I reckon you're right. He sure-God can say no for himself. It's old Dick Summers. He's been everywhere, trappin' beaver and fightin' Indians and all. He could guide us blindfolded."
   "Where does he live?"
   "Neighbor to me."
   "Is there a chance we could get him?"
   "Hard tellin'. His woman's poorly."
   "But you're sure he'd do?" Tadlock went on. "We can't have some worn-out grandpa who'll show up with a Harpers Ferry musket and a jug of whisky."
   "I 'xpect," said Evans slowly, looking Tadlock in the face, that Dick Summers is just about the best man I ever met up with."
   "Would you go with us to see him?"
   "Sometime. Tomorry or next day."
   "Good. Fine. Meantime we'll figure on the pay." Tadlock figured on it in his head right then, without saying what it might add up to. When he spoke it was to ask Evans: "Now has that mind of yours made itself up?"
   "I ain't sure."
   "We'll have a full party before long."
   Mack asked, "Why would you want to stay here when you can go to Oregon? As I said, first come, best served."
   Evans didn't have an answer.
   "I hope you can go," young Fairman said as if he meant it.
   "Look here," said Tadlock, counting off on his fingers as he made his points. "You know the Willamette valley is fertile, pretty, too, beyond anything we know here."
   "That's what they tell me."
   "It's rich. It is easy to get to by water, by river and ocean."
   Evans agreed.
   "That Iowa committee -two years ago, wasn't it?- it knew what it was talking about."
   "How's that?"
   "Take climate, it said, or water power or health or timber or soil or convenience to markets, Oregon beat them all."
   "That was before they got there."
   "You haven't heard a different story since?"
   "Don't know as I have."
   "Look," Tadlock said, using his hands like a man who stood for office. "There's a better reason yet, to my mind." He paused to let the words sink in. "Is it our country or England's? You want it to be British?"
   "Hitchcock does, but not me."
   "Well, what's going to decide it? People, that's what. People like you and me. if we've got gumption enough to settle there."
   The blood had climbed to Tadlock's face. In his temple Evans could see a vein stand out. His words had a ring to them. In spite of himself, Evans was moved.
   "They say fifty-four forty or fight," Tadlock went on. "By God, we won't have to fight if enough of us are on the ground!" He let his voice fall. "It would be a proud thing, Evans, for you and your children and their young ones, too, saying Pa or Grandpa helped win the country. Or do you want to sit in a chair and let others make history?"
   Tadlock pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. "That's all -except to say again we want you."
   "What do you think?" Mack asked.
   Evans read in Fairman's face the hope he would say yes.
   "You're bunchin' up on me." Evans looked from face to face, and saw them all solemn and waiting, even McBee's. Almost before he knew it, he said, "Tell you what. If Dick Summers goes, I will."
   "Good enough."
   McBee said, " 'Y God, shake