Breakfast with Swiftwater Jim - The Last Best West .

Dawson City, Yukon Territories. June 27, 1897.

Billy Bird led the way up to the third floor, where he knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. A few moments later, a bearded face dressed in an expensive suit, answered.

"Well, how about that. . .I'll be damned! Billy Bird. . .come on in."

Billy smiled as he shook the hand of Swiftwater Jim. "Howdy Jim, glad to see yeah. . .Jim O'Day, this here's me friend, Poke Roberts."

Poke shook the big mitt offered him and closed the door behind. O'Day returned to the table and the breakfast that was laid out there. "Come sit down. You men had yer breakfast yet?"

Billy and Poke shook their heads, prompting O'Day to walk over to the corner and yank on a cord. A moment later a tinny, "Yes sir!" Came wafting up the metal tube that came up out of the floor. O'Day laughed as he yelled into the contraption, "Two more breakfasts and another pot of coffee Phil."

Jim O'Day smiled as he returned to the table. "So tell me Billy, did yer send that telegram?"

The old Indian squirmed in his seat, "Yup. Sent it from Seattle, just like I said I would."

"Good Billy, I'm obliged." O'Day smiled and poured the men some coffee. "Now, how was Seattle?"

"Well Jim, it's a hell of a town and all those swanky furnishings that I bought. . . ."

"Yup. . . ."

"All those things. . ." Billy stammered, "those things will git here next month."

The smile left Jim O'Day's face. "Don't lie to me Billy! Yer wasted every blessed nugget yer went with! Aleksandr Baranov told me all about yore antics."

"Whatcha mean?"

"Don't yer even remember that it was on the Russian's ship that yer were supposed to load all the stuff and return to the Klondike? When Baranov found you, you were so drunk you couldn't even stand. You don't remember do you?" O'Day walked over to the cupboard and got an old newspaper, then tossed it on the table. "I guess you don't remember this picture, either."

Poke looked at the front page of the newspaper, he'd seen it many times before. It was a photograph of Billy with a mountain of nuggets at his feet.

Billy glanced at the picture, then stared defiantly at Swiftwater. "All right Jim. . .yer got me. I was weak; I admit it. But come on - cut me some slack. . .you and I are pards. I was there when that gold was discovered!"

"I discovered that damn gold!" O'Day laughed, derisively, "You and that half-wit brother of yours couldn't find yore dingus with both hands!

"So tell me Billy, whatinhell did you do, to get the gold?" O'Day paced around the room as he laid into Billy Bird. "You boys never prospected except fer yer next meal, in yore life. It was me that knew what to look for, and by my Pappa's whiskers I FOUND IT!"

Billy Bird's hands shook. He licked his lips, wishing for a drink. "That's right Jim. I blew 10,000 dollars on a wild time, in a big city. I never saw no city before, let alone one with high falutin' women. . .I never had respect ever from anyone. . .but there with all me gold. . .they calt me sir fer chrissakes!" Billy hung his head sheepishly and mumbled into his lap, "But I'm back now, and I. . .I owe sum money. . .I kinda told people."

"What Billy?" O'Day demanded. "That they'd get it back when yer got to Dawson?"

"That's right; damn you!" Billy Bird's face contorted in anger. "I deserve a third of everythin' that yer have! And that includes this damn hotel!"

O'Day's jaw clenched into a grim line as he leaned across the table. "I can't believe my ears. Nobody but me has any money in this hotel. You could of, but yer fucked up, nobody made yer piss away that gold." Swiftwater shook his head, "Thar's nuthin' fer yer here, Billy. Yore brother has taken his share of the gold and left fer Vancouver on a ship. Yer likely passed him right on the river."

"Hate to see old friends at odds like this." Poke offered, tryin' to play peacemaker.

O'Day's eyes got narrow, "Poke Roberts. . .Poke. . .I know that name. . .seems to me yer a wanted man down around Montana and Alberta, and other places."

"I reckon that's another fella, yer thinkin' on." Poke was cool as ice, he'd recognized the name Jim O'Day as soon as he heard
it. . .another fuckin' Mountie. . . . "Yer ever seen the man yer talkin' about? Or even a picture of this famous outlaw?"

"Not a picture or a drawin'. But I chased the son-of-a-bitch mor'n once over the years, and I reckon it's a high likelihood he were you."

"But yer never got a close up look at this dangerous desperado?"

"Not close enough to recognize," O'Day admitted, "But I squeezed off a few rifle shots at the bastard."

"Never close enough ta recognize - humph - that fella sounds pretty tricky!" Poke was havin' fun pretendin' he were someone else. "Well, sir, Poke is just a nickname - yer know 'cause I like the company of sportin' girls."

"Mister Roberts there's something about you that tells me you wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and bit yer balls." Swiftwater opinioned, "I reckon Billy owes yer money that's why yore here."

"Close enough Mister O'Day." Poke laughed, "I took pity on the old bugger and bought his passage back to Dawson City."

"You ever been to Alberta?" Swiftwater asked, trying to catch Poke unawares.

"I had a girl in California called Alberta once," Poke chortled, "but I never been to a place called that." Poke smiled, his face open and frank. "Nice place is it?"

"Never mind." O'Day irritably shook his head, "my advice to you is to mind yore own business and not to trust Billy Bird. He's nothing but a disease invested, undependable, walking lice factory."

"Come on Jim, yer don't have to get insultin'." Billy was indignant, "I'm not proud of what I've become."

"Then change!"

O'Day pulled a slip of wood out of the fire and lit his cigarette. "I'll tell you what Billy. . .how much would it take fer yer to stay away from me and the gold claim? Ten thousand? Twenty? Thirty? Tell me, I would really like to know."

Poke watched the old man's body slump deeper in the chair. "Are you saying," Billy asked, contritely, "that yer never want ta have nuthin' more to do with me?"

"Yer catchin' on Billy. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Swiftwater went over to the safe in the corner and turned the handle. Shielding their view of the safe's contents with his body, he reached in and pulled out two large bags of gold. Struggling with the weight, he walked over to the scales on the dresser and weighed them carefully. Retying the bags he slung them on the table in front of Billy Bird.

"Here are 42,000 dollars. You'll not get a penny more. The claim is filed in Whitehorse in my name only. Yer have no legal claim to anythin'. By tryin' to lie to me you just chased away the last bit of good will I had fer yer. Take the gold and git out."

O'Day turned his back and walked to the window.

Poke nudged Billy Bird and nodded to the door, Billy shook his head, "Come on Jim. . . ."

"Billy, I'll not be talking on this again."

This is an excerpt from Chapter Four of The Last Best West by Longfellow Deeds. Copyrite © 2002 All rights Reserved. No portion or part maybe reproduced by any physical, mechanical or electronic means. Please contact us at for further information or assistance.

Next Scene - A Wolf called Dingo.

Breakfast With Swiftwater