Chapter 21

In April, we lay off digging one day to fetch supplies. It’s a fine day and the mule is as eager as we are.

“What’s his name?” I ask Abel when it strikes me I’ve never inquired about the mule. I don’t see him like I do horses, which may not be fair since he’s a good sort.

“Moo.”

“Moo? Like a cow?”

“Yep. I doubt he can tell since it sounds like mule. My bit of fun with him.”

“Moo,” I repeat, chuckling. Abel has a sense of humor.

When we near our old diggings and see there’s men there, Abel stops. We’re up where they can’t see us, so we get a good look. There’s three of them busy with a rocker. Abel pulls his rifle from Moo’s pack saddle.

“They must be new around here,” I say, knowing Abel gets my meaning that they may not have heard about him.

“Likely are, which is why I’ll give them fair warning. You wait here.”