So...What's the Big Rush?

Note: This story was a contest entry for the "Wild Wild West Writing Challenge" Contest - March 22, 2011 edition. To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:

The RULES are simple and go as follows:
Rule 1: Stories must be between 1000 and 3000 words.
Rule 2: Story must contain dialog.
Rule 3: Story must follow the prompt given. If it doesn't, the story will be disqualified.
Rule 4: All stories must be within the E to 18+ rating. Anything over will be disqualified.
Rule 5: All entries MUST be posted in BITEM format.
Any story not following the rules of this contest will be disqualified. NO EXCEPTIONS!

The top TWO entries will be awarded.
1st place an awardicon and 5k in GP's.
2nd place will receive 5k in GP's.

Now that everyone knows the rules and what the prizes are, let the FUN begin. Put your thinking caps on and get your research tools ready.

Bi-weekly prompt: Write a story about the Gold Rush.Remember to keep it historically correct to a point. You can make the story as funny or as sad as you like. Remember this is the OLD WEST, WILD and UNTAMED! You have 3,000 words too make your story stand out.

Contest begin MIDNIGHT MARCH 8th WDC time and END'S MIDNIGHT MARCH 22nd WDC TIME. NO late entries will be accepted.

(Contest ID 1751645)

******************************************************************************

So...What's the Big Rush?

By Indelibleink

"Dad...Are we there yet?"

"Yeah, Dad. This is like the longest trip ever..."

It was bad enough when Dan Danner had to hear it from even just one of the kids, but stereo? That was a bit much, even for the grizzled ex-farmer.

"Now don't you kids make me pull this covered wagon over to the side of the road and force me to whup your behinds. Then you'll really have something to complain about. You hear me?"

"Okay, Pa."

"Sorry, Daddy." 

Six months into the journey from eastern Pennsylvania, the exhaustion that gripped the Danner party was at least partially offset by the knowledge that they were on the verge of finally arriving at their destination. It had been particularly difficult on the children, as Russ, age twelve, and his sister, Audrey, two years Russ's senior, had been led to believe they were merely going out for a Sunday drive one afternoon in the middle of March, 1848. Though still bitter about having been duped, Russ was warming up to the idea of meeting some California babes, while Audrey looked at this as a great opportunity to jump-start her modeling career.

"Dan, dear...?"

"What is it, Blythe?" Dan was already cringing inwardly because whenever his wife started off a sentence that way, whatever followed was not going to be a good thing.

Blythe Danner, in her mid-forties and wearing a face that might best be described as "sheepish" at the moment, said, "I'm pretty sure I left the children's school records on the kitchen table. Do we have time to turn around and..."

Dan looked at his wife incredulously. "Well, dear, let me think about that for a second..." In less than a second, it appeared Dan had arrived at his answer. "No. No. A thousand times, NO!"

Blythe shook her head in dismay. "All I know is that they may have a hard time getting into class without those records, and..."

"Honey, the kids will be fine. Won't you, kids?"  Dan turned to see the white-as-a-sheet expressions on both of his kids' faces, both terrified at the mere thought of turning around and doing this all over again. Evidently too stunned to speak, the children hurriedly nodded their affirmation.

Blythe didn't seem to appreciate that her words weren't - in her estimation, anyway - being taken seriously enough. "Dan...How come nobody takes me - in my estimation, anyway - seriously enough around here?"

"You really want to know, Blythe? How's this for an example? Remember about a month or so ago when we came to the fork in the trail and the one that pointed to the right said Oregon Trail, and the one that pointed to the left said California Trail?"

"Of course I do, Dan. And I chose the one on the right."

"Indeed you did, dear. But we were headed for San Francisco."

***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***

The family's Conestoga wagon pulled up to a ridge overlooking the small, bustling harbor town. Just seeing the tiny ships entering and leaving the bay - combined with the activity that permeated the area and seemed to cry "boom town" - it was difficult for Dan Danner to contain his enthusiasm. 

"There it is everyone: San Francisco, California. Ain't it just beautiful?"

Blythe grabbed her husband's arm, smiled, and hugged it warmly. The two kids paused their travel edition version (although the "home" edition would had to have been murder) of License Plate Bingo long enough to pop their heads out of the wagon's cover and absorb the surroundings.

"Can we eat, Daddy? We're starved."

"Yeah, Pa. The beef jerky just ain't cuttin' it anymore."

Blythe Danner stifled a laugh. "We didn't bring beef jerky. That's string cheese that's been left out about a month too long."

Dan chuckled along with his wife. "There must be a drive-thru in this town somewhere..."

As the wagon slowly moved through the busy streets, Dan Danner suddenly stood up, looked at Blythe and said, "This is even better," and motioned to a man that was standing outside an eatery just below a sign that said The Gold Russian. "Danner, party of four for dinner!"

Blythe looked at her husband, perplexity written all over her face. "What was that all about, dear?"

"Call-ahead seating."

***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***  ***

Shortly after handing the reigns over to a valet outside the restaurant, the family was seated inside the attractive eatery. Dan was already planning his fortunes...

"Well, kids, we made it, all in one piece. I'll find a spot in the morning and stake a claim, and we'll be panning before lunch, I reckon..."

Russ could no longer take it. "Pa, I'm starving! Could you not say 'steak' anymore?"

"Sorry Russ. But, actually, I was speaking of another kind of stake - not the food kind."

Russ rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter, Pa?"

As the family was on the tail end of consuming a large meal, Dan leaned back in his chair, and nudged his wife's leg with the tip of his boot.

"How's it feel to be a 'forty-eighter'?"

Blythe Danner shot up out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box with a well-oiled spring. "Why, Daniel D. Danner! You know I'm only forty-three! How could you?"

"Blythe, no...you misunderstand what I'm saying. We're all called 'forty-eighters' because the year is 1848. Forty-eight...get it?"

Mrs. Danner still eyed her husband suspiciously. "You mean...even Audrey's forty-eight in these parts?"

"Well, Audrey's not forty-eight years old, Blythe, but she's called a 'forty-eighter', just like Russ, Audrey, and me...And if they arrived the following year, it follows that they'd be called...?"

"Teenagers?"

"Close enough."

As Dan was finishing his last bite of cow pie, he suddenly grimaced and slapped his forehead - fortunately after putting his fork down.

"What is it, Dear?"

"I forgot to bring my lucky hoe."

Blythe Danner stood and appeared about ready to let Dan have it, right in the kisser. "Dan Danner, I thought we agreed that we would never discuss that female again. And, in front of the children, to boot!"

"No, Blythe, not the lady from the feed store. I'm talking about my lucky hoe that I use on the farm...I just can't dig without it. Everybody into the Conestoga...we're heading back to the farm."

******************************************************************************

Words: 1059