The hard, rugged life had taken most of his teeth years ago. He’d lost
two fingers in a rock slide four springs ago and his leg had never healed right
after that damned quake had tossed him off of the mountainside in ’51.
By his best recollections he was 77 years old, but a man could lose
years out panning in the wilds of California wilderness.
The sun had just peeked over the horizon, splashing the sky with gold.
Gold.
His lips twisted wryly as he gave the heavens a hard look. Sometimes he
didn’t know if God was taunting him with that golden sky each dawn or just
egging him on with more of that color he’d spent his whole life chasing. Either
way he appreciated the gesture. It was nice to know somebody was still paying
him a little mind.
With a familiar wince to his back that had not spoken kindly to him in
decades, he leaned back over the chilled mountain stream and put his pan once
again to the water...
And suddenly there was gold!
Hundreds of little specks of color dancing wildly in the streaks of the
new day’s sun. The old man grinned, his eyes welling up with gratitude, as he
shouted to the skies…
“Eureka!”
I had one of those moments last night…
I know what to do with my six Scots-Irish brothers’ story!
Eureka, indeed.
Details tonight.
Until then…
Chloe
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