Barker's Luck Page #7

"Barker's Luck" is a short story by Bret Harte, set in the American West during the Gold Rush era. The narrative follows the character of Jim Barker, a down-and-out miner who experiences a series of misadventures while trying to strike it rich. With Harte's signature blend of humor and poignant insights into human nature, the story explores themes of luck, perseverance, and the complexities of fortune. As Barker navigates the challenges of life in a boomtown, he ultimately learns important lessons about failure, friendship, and the unpredictable nature of luck.

• Short story

								

Well--there!"

Whatever it represented, the exclamation was apparently so protracted
that Miss Kitty was obliged to push her lover to the front landing
before she could disappear by the back stairs. But once in the street,
Barker no longer lingered. It was a good three miles back to the Gulch;
he might still reach it by the time his partners were taking their
noonday rest, and he resolved that although the messenger had preceded
him, they would not enter upon the new claim until the afternoon. For
Barker, in spite of his mistress's injunction, had no idea of taking
what he couldn't pay for; he would keep the claim intact until something
could be settled. For the rest, he walked on air! Kitty loved him!
The accursed wealth no longer stood between them. They were both poor
now--everything was possible.

The sun was beginning to send dwarf shadows toward the east when he
reached the Gulch. Here a new trepidation seized him. How would his
partners receive the news of his utter failure? HE was happy, for he had
gained Kitty through it. But they? For a moment it seemed to him that he
had purchased his happiness through their loss. He stopped, took off his
hat, and ran his fingers remorsefully through his damp curls.

Another thing troubled him. He had reached the crest of the Gulch, where
their old working ground was spread before him like a map. They were not
there; neither were they lying under the four pines on the ridge where
they were wont to rest at midday. He turned with some alarm to the new
claim adjoining theirs, but there was no sign of them there either. A
sudden fear that they had, after parting from him, given up the claim
in a fit of disgust and depression, and departed, now overcame him. He
clapped his hand on his head and ran in the direction of the cabin.

He had nearly reached it when the rough challenge of "Who's there?" from
the bushes halted him, and Demorest suddenly swung into the trail.
But the singular look of sternness and impatience which he was wearing
vanished as he saw Barker, and with a loud shout of "All right, it's
only Barker! Hooray!" he ran toward him. In an instant he was joined by
Stacy from the cabin, and the two men, catching hold of their returning
partner, waltzed him joyfully and breathlessly into the cabin. But the
quick-eyed Demorest suddenly let go his hold and stared at Barker's
face. "Why, Barker, old boy, what's up?"

"Everything's up," gasped the breathless Barker. "It's all up about
these stocks. It's all a mistake; all an infernal lie of that newspaper.
I never had the right kind of shares. The ones I have are worthless
rags"; and the next instant he had blurted out his whole interview with
the bank manager.

The two partners looked at each other, and then, to Barker's infinite
perplexity, the same extraordinary convulsion that had seized Miss Kitty
fell upon them. They laughed, holding on each other's shoulders; they
laughed, clinging to Barker's struggling figure; they went out and
laughed with their backs against a tree. They laughed separately and in
different corners. And then they came up to Barker with tears in their
eyes, dropped their heads on his shoulder, and murmured exhaustedly:

"You blessed ass!"

"But," said Stacy suddenly, "how did you manage to buy the claim?"

"Ah! that's the most awful thing, boys. I've NEVER PAID FOR IT," groaned
Barker.

"But Carter sent us the bill of sale," persisted Demorest, "or we
shouldn't have taken it."

"I gave my promissory note at thirty days," said Barker desperately,
"and where's the money to come from now? But," he added wildly, as the
men glanced at each other--"you said 'taken it.' Good heavens! you don't
mean to say that I'm TOO late--that you've--you've touched it?"

"I reckon that's pretty much what we HAVE been doing," drawled Demorest.

"It looks uncommonly like it," drawled Stacy.

Barker glanced blankly from the one to the other. "Shall we pass our
young friend in to see the show?" said Demorest to Stacy.

"Yes, if he'll be perfectly quiet and not breathe on the glasses,"
returned Stacy.

They each gravely took one of Barker's hands and led him to the
corner of the cabin. There, on an old flour barrel, stood a large tin
prospecting pan, in which the partners also occasionally used to knead
their bread. A dirty towel covered it. Demorest whisked it dexterously
aside, and disclosed three large fragments of decomposed gold and
quartz. Barker started back.

"Heft it!" said Demorest grimly.

Barker could scarcely lift the pan!

"Four thousand dollars' weight if a penny!" said Stacy, in short
staccato sentences. "In a pocket! Brought it out the second stroke of
the pick! We'd been awfully blue after you left. Awfully blue, too, when
that bill of sale came, for we thought you'd been wasting your money on
US. Reckoned we oughtn't to take it, but send it straight back to you.
Messenger gone! Then Demorest reckoned as it was done it couldn't be
undone, and we ought to make just one 'prospect' on the claim, and
strike a single stroke for you. And there it is. And there's more on the
hillside."

"But it isn't MINE! It isn't YOURS! It's Carter's. I never had the money
to pay for it--and I haven't got it now."

"But you gave the note--and it is not due for thirty days."

A recollection flashed upon Barker. "Yes," he said with thoughtful
simplicity, "that's what Kitty said."

"Oh, Kitty said so," said both partners, gravely.

"Yes," stammered Barker, turning away with a heightened color, "and, as I
didn't stay there to luncheon, I think I'd better be getting it ready."
He picked up the coffeepot and turned to the hearth as his two partners
stepped beyond the door.

"Wasn't it exactly like him?" said Demorest.

"Him all over," said Stacy.

"And his worry over that note?" said Demorest.

"And 'what Kitty said,'" said Stacy.

"Look here! I reckon that wasn't ALL that Kitty said."

"Of course not."

"What luck!"
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