Dorrit found us at the fire with beans enough for three.
She tied her mare beside the cart and settled next to me.
“Your hired mule is due,” she said. “The fee is due as well.”
I moved my coat across my lap. “We’ve quite a tale to tell.”
Orr sat up. He loved a tale in which he’d played a part.
Sena kept on eating beans, her blanket by the cart.
We’d once been cattle riders. Now we searched the hills on foot.
The mule had pulled our food and tents wherever they were put.
“The mine,” I said, “was past the ridge, beyond the yellow light.
The entrance glowed like sunrise, though we reached it late at night.
A golden bull stood at the door. Its horns were twice as wide
as Dorrit’s spread-out washing when a full week’s clothes have dried.”
“That bull,” said Sena, “was your mule. It rolled in yellow dust.”
Orr shook his head. “The woman has no sense of magic. Trust
a man who’s been a rider to know a proper beast.”
“The beast,” said Sena, “wanted oats. I gave it some, at least.”
Dorrit scratched her mule’s long ears. It leaned against her knee.
I took a breath. The mine required more care, it seemed to me.
“Inside,” I said, “a river ran with coins instead of drops.
We saw a trout of solid gold that sneezed and would not stop.”
“It sneezed out little silver fish,” said Orr, who’d found his stride.
“They swam across the ceiling with their mouths stretched very wide.
We offered them our breakfast, but they had expensive taste.”
Sena said, “Our breakfast was the part we didn’t waste.”
“We crossed that flowing money on a bridge of borrowed spoons.
Above us hung a dozen stars. Beyond them, seven moons.
I caught a star inside my hat and carried it a while.”
“Your hat caught on a cactus,” Sena said. “For half a mile.”
“The cactus charged a toll,” said Orr. “A prickly sort of bank.”
Dorrit lifted one eyebrow. “How much did it make, Frank?”
“My name is Orr.” “I know your name. I’m checking that you do.
You two have told so many things, you might forget what’s true.”
I said, “We reached the deepest room, and there upon a bed
lay one enormous nugget with a pillow for its head.
It slept beside a little bell, as rich folk sometimes will.
We thought we’d wake it gently. We were very quiet still.”
Orr said, “I lifted up the bell. Its tongue was purest gold.
The nugget rolled toward us, saying, ‘Who has been so bold?’
We hid behind a ruby large enough to house a horse.”
Sena said, “We went to someone’s wedding, of course.”
Dorrit turned toward Sena. Now her smile began to spread.
I hurried on before she asked what else the wedding fed.
“The nugget wore a waistcoat and a polished pair of boots.
It offered us a fortune if we shifted all its roots.”
“It was a man called Jory,” Sena said. “He needed chairs.
The guests were coming down the lane. We hauled them from the neighbors’ sheds.
We’d followed morning sunlight thinking it was mine light.
We found his crowded wedding and a very pleasant sight.”
“The chairs,” said Orr, “were made of gold, with diamonds on the back.”
“They folded,” Sena answered. “And we stacked them in a rack.”
“The rack was gold,” I offered, but my pocket gave a chink.
Dorrit looked straight at my coat. “You’ve found some cash, I think.”
I held my leg quite steady. Orr began to study beans.
Sena put her bowl aside and wiped her trousers clean.
“The nugget tipped us handsomely,” I said. “For moving roots.”
“Jory paid for hauling chairs,” said Sena. “Not for boots.”
Dorrit held her hand out. I stared into the fire.
We’d used the mule for three days more than we agreed to hire.
The wedding meal was splendid. The wages had been fair.
I’d hoped a tale might somehow keep my money over there.
“The greatest lump of gold,” said Orr, “we couldn’t bring it back.
It would have sunk the whole wide world if loaded in a sack.”
“It would have sunk a hat,” I said. “It might have sunk a town.”
Dorrit kept her palm held out. “You needn’t write it down.”
I counted out the wedding pay, then counted out her fee.
The extra days were extra days. They cost what they should be.
She left me change for breakfast, which I tucked away with care.
Orr watched it with a hopeful look. I told him not to stare.
“You’ve heard a wondrous tale,” I said. “That ought to count for more.”
“It does,” said Dorrit. “But I charge for tales that make me snore.”
She winked at Sena as she stood. The charge was just a joke.
Orr said he’d heard the nugget laugh. Nobody else spoke.
Dorrit checked the cart’s two wheels and packed our things outside.
Her mule was hers. Her cart was hers. She’d brought her mare to ride.
She tied the mule behind the mare and took them down the trail.
We gathered up our blankets and our battered cooking pail.
I took the tent. Orr took the packs. The road was long and dry.
I gave the change to Sena. Orr began to ask her why.
“A walking fee,” she told us. “There’s a place to eat by noon.”
Orr said the roadside stones were gold beneath the yellow moon.
I said I’d seen it glitter. I said I’d walked on worse.
Sena kept her face ahead and kept my breakfast purse.
We left the mine beyond the ridge. We left its sleeping king.
With every step the pot hit Orr and made a little ding.
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