California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1) (27 page)

"Yes. I go to the waterfall. It
washes away the things I cannot stop from troubling me with my own will."

"I have a special place I go to
also. It is far south of here, in the land of the Morangos, many miles east of
the Mission San Gabriel. There is a place in the high desert, a mile into the
sky above millions of strange, tall, cactus-like trees that some say look like
monks. From this place you can see at least one hundred miles across the desert
and mountains in three directions. To the southwest, across the desert where
the earth has come apart and together again many times, there is a mountain
called San Jacinto. There is a taller one to the west, San Gorgonio, but
Jacinto rises so rapidly off the desert floor that when I gaze at it, I feel as
though it draws me, lifts me like an eagle on its air currents, straight up to
the sun or the moon. Of all the distant, silent places, it is the one where I
can rid myself of my mind and my body most easily, most quickly."

"You must take me there one day. I
would love to see it."

"One day," he said wistfully,
standing up and taking her left hand. He kissed the knuckle stubs tenderly,
then reached out with his other hand and stroked her hair. "I think it
will be good for me to be gone for a time now. I think you should have this
place and the waterfall to yourself, and I have felt the need to gaze at
Jacinto for many weeks."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course. Just as the snow melts,
in time for the work." He laughed. "After all, what would you and
Miwokan do without me?"

He left before dawn, while she was still
sleeping. It was not until noon on Christmas Day, as he watered his horse in a
stream deep into the San Joaquin Valley, that he found the two large pouches of
gold and the note in his saddlebag.

"I want you to have
these. If you do not come back, I will understand.
Feliz
Navidad.
Esther."

South
Fork Cabin

July 11, 1849

Dearest Husband, I learned, while in Sacramento City on business
last week, that you, like almost every other able-bodied male from here to
Santa Clara, have succumbed to the lure of gold and that you are working the
streams at Mormon Bar. Found out from Sutter who chanced also to be in
Sacramento, attending to some business, as I was. Reduced as he is, Sutter
certainly has maintained his network of friends. The man knows everything that
goes on within 100 miles of the city, and he seems to have taken pains to
discreetly stay informed of your whereabouts.

I wish you well, hope that your decision to quit your job at
Larkin's store four months ago was a wise one, and pray that you do not become
ill from the icy waters, as so many miners have. I understand you passed
through the city on your way to Mormon Bar. Can you believe the changes that
have taken place? It astonishes me that between the fort, which already shows
the first signs of de
cay,
and the
embarcadero,
has sprung up a sizable town almost overnight.

Went there to talk with Kellerman, the retailer, and was totally
taken aback by the city itself, and by the prices Kellerman is getting for the
hammers, picks, pans, and other items he is selling for me. (Hammers $8 to
$10!) It seems my notion to "go into the hard goods business" was an
uncommonly lucky one. Stayed at the still unfinished City Hotel, where I ran
into Sutter, and I also happened upon Warren Barnett, who told me that a theater
is planned just down the street from the  Hotel! Reportedly it will be called
the Eagle, the first such in the entire territory. I have never been to a play.
But I remember daydreaming once, of dressing gaily and attending a drama with
you.

Interesting talk with Barnett. As it happened, he planned to
stop at the South Fork during his "tour," as he calls it, to apprise
me of developments at Blue Star. Things there progressing marvelously, as
predicted, since San Francisco returned to "normal" last fall.
Barnett brought me a statement and documents from the Mercantile Bank as an
accounting. It seems I have more than $80,000 at this juncture! With that I
ought to be able to do something about Mosby, should I ever find him. And I
certainly will not have to worry about survival for many years to come. That
is, if I do not eat in Sacramento's (and I would imagine San Francisco's)
outrageously overpriced restaurants too often.

Cannot quite put my finger on what Barnett's purpose in these
parts is. He seems to be interested in something more than gaining additional
shipping orders for Blue Star. He relays talk, very preliminary at this point,
of a drive for statehood, so perhaps he has a political career in mind.
Transparent but fascinating man. Essentially uneducated, but shrewd and
knowledgeable, along with being extraordinarily likeable. Big and clumsy as a
bull in a china shop, but so sincere, so honest, one wants to overlook the
rough edges and occasionally bruised senses. I like him.

In a way, his gentleness and compassion remind me of Murietta.
(Thank goodness, he has finally returned. Until these last few weeks, I had a
growing fear that Miwokan and his men would not be able to hold the line
against some of these ruffians that call themselves "forty-niners."
Not all, but many, are a far cry from the civilized prospectors from local
parts—all but those few in Hangtown—who were here last year. It is to be
expected, I suppose, what with the numbers—Barnett says the latest estimates
indicate 40,000 men in the fields and another 40,000 settlers between here and
the coast. It is hard to believe that many are from places as far away as
Chile, the Sandwich Islands, and Europe. With such a mix and multitude, one
cannot expect but to find more than a few examples of primitive behavior.)

While talking with Barnett, an interesting subject came up: the
absolutely unpardonable length of time it takes a letter of any sort to reach
Sacramento, let alone the mining towns, from San Francisco. Suggested,
admittedly thinking of you, that someone ought to set up a private or
government-supported mail service. One could surely make more out of it, and
hauling prospector's gold to San Francisco,  than from the ore itself.
Fortuitously, from the standpoint of finding a way to remunerate you for the
$300 left with me at Bent's Fort, Barnett said he would speak to "young
Todd" about the mail and express idea. Perhaps, dear Alex, it will be your
next step to greater prosperity. I hope so.

Saw little Moses at the Indian village on the way back from
Sacramento City. A darling, placid child, serene in the care
Solana
virtually smothers him with. It may seem heartless of me, but I
have accepted the fact that I can never have him with me. I detect an element
of the subdued in his nature, young as he is. On those rare occasions when he
frowns, the sudden resemblance to Mosby is frightening, and prompts in me so
much anger I must look away from the poor child.

As I must look away from Murietta from time to time for other
reasons. I wrote earlier in these pages that I would share things with you that
women rarely, if ever, speak of to men. It is time for me to fulfill the
promise. Oh, Alex, the absence of you and what I am beginning to realize is a
strong streak of base physical nature in me, lead me to torment. I have not
broken my vow to sustain my fidelity to you, but the lack in my life of those
pleasures we shared so joyously together leads me to gaze upon Joaquin,
unbeknownst to him, with unpardonable lust. Particularly when he has his shirt off
and I can see the sinewy muscles of his torso and arms. I imagine myself doing
unspeakable things with him. In order to take hold of my senses, I think of you
with me, naked, instead, but it does little to satisfy my craving. Such
desires, I would guess, led to the strange experience I had in bed the other
morning before sunrise.

I had been dreaming of you, us, together, in the barn in Ohio.
When I awoke, I found myself rocking, my hand on my privates, which were as
moist as if you had spilled your seed in me, and astonishingly, I was in the
midst of one of those quivering, tingling flights during which my whole body
seemed aflame. It was exactly as I felt on more than one occasion toward the
end of our love-makings.

I was really not fully awake, for as if in some sort of trance,
I continued to move my fingers over myself, and the same remarkable sensations
repeated even more intensely. I must confess that the feeling of peace and
contentment that followed, the absence of my lustful cravings for some days,
has tempted me to do the same again—intentionally. I have deliberated on it,
and although I recall vividly all the words spoken of such things from the
pulpit, I cannot for the life of me see anything wrong with it. It would harm
no one. And if it diminishes my desire for Murietta, perhaps it may even be a
positive thing.

I want you to know that there is little likelihood of Murietta
ever pressing his own unspoken desires on me. He came here this evening
concerning the use of small amounts of blasting powder to clear boulders
upriver where he and the men are camped. Our friendship is somehow diminished.
He is caring and gentle, as usual, but there seems a gulf between us. Much the
same as the unspoken barrier of near-formality that Miwokan has erected and slowly
fortifies. Can he as well still be harboring thoughts of me in this vein? It is
sad, but perhaps men cannot in any other way deal with a woman they desire but
cannot have.

Useless and irrelevant misgivings, these, my dear husband. I
have too much to attend to. Too difficult to remain at peace with what
surrounds me. So many people! And, more to the point, I have a much stronger
desire to keep my quiet, unheard promise to you, dear man. Rest assured that I
will continue to do the mental exercises I must employ to rid myself of such
thoughts concerning Murietta. In much the same way as I banished the sadness
and remorse that washed over me after seeing little Moses recently.

I feel the way I feel. Do not feel what I cannot. For Moses, or
Murietta, or anyone. And that is that. I will not torment myself over what
simply is.

Enough. I must remember to talk with Murietta about going for a
look at the new sluices and flumes being built north of here. The power of the
water reduces almost unworkable banks to flowing silt and mud out of which the
gold can be practically plucked! Perhaps you and your fellow miners are using
such at Mormon Bar. I will pass close to where you are, I would imagine, but of
course I cannot go near that place, no matter how much I would like to.

Just thinking about such a thing prompts me to pine for you. I
will not. For I cannot and still go on in my purpose. Good night, dear Husband.
And may God keep you well.

Unexpected labor troubles delayed
Esther's tour of the northern camps until mid-August. "Coyote-hole"
digging under the bed of the river was required now that the surface deposits
were thinning out. A dam had to be built; then a trench, through which to
divert water so the bed would be exposed for working. The additional labor and
the exhausting work set some of Miwokan's men to grumbling, then to open
rebellion. Despite entreaties by Miwokan and his brother, a half-dozen men
decided to pack up and move north for less arduous and far more remunerative
independent panning. Esther renewed her offer to share her profits with them if
all the others became equal partners as well. But Miwokan and those loyal to
him refused the increase, and the discontented men left.

The evening before she and Murietta were
to leave on the tour, Miwokan inexplicably flew into a tirade about the trip.

"There is no need for you to
go!" he shouted when the conversation had reached a stalemate.

"And there is no need for you to
raise your voice, Miwokan!" Esther remonstrated. "What is the matter
with you? You are acting as though you were my father, and an unreasonable
father at that!"

Miwokan glanced coldly at Murietta, then
turned back to Esther. "I will send two of my men. They will draw pictures
of these, these
…
"

"Flumes," Murietta said.

"You do not have to tell me what
they are called!" Miwokan said, shouting again, his underlying feelings
slowly being exposed. "I know the words 'flume' and 'sluice.'"

"I did not mean to—"

"Why should you go with her?"
he said, cutting Murietta off. "You are needed here. We are six men short
now."

Esther, preoccupied with other things,
had let Miwokan's jealousy of Murietta slip her mind. Now she understood why he
was so agitated. "Do you wish me to go alone?" she said gently.

"I wish you not to go at all."

She placed her hand on Miwokan's
shoulder. "Can we walk, just the two of us? I would like to speak with you
alone."

Grudgingly, barely concealing his
annoyance with Murietta, he followed. When they were out of sight and earshot,
Esther put her arm through his and looked up at him. She smiled and cocked her
head and saw that he knew she knew.

"You are not yourself today. I
understand. But there is no reason for it. There never has been."

"He goes with you, and I do
not."

"You are more important to me here.
Don't you know there is nothing between Joaquin and me?"

Miwokan sighed. "I am sorry I
behaved that way. Perhaps I needed to hear it from your lips again after so
many sunsets."

"Well, you have heard it."

"I have no bad feelings for him. He
is my friend. This comes to me from a place in my heart I do not
understand."

"You have a wife. You love
her."

"I
know," he said. "And I am sometimes like a spoiled child. It makes me
betray her in my thoughts. She has done nothing to make me feel less for
her." He stopped and turned to her. "I am sorry. I will not let my
heart do this to me again. I promise you that. I will go to the village now.
Tell Murietta that it was the leaving of my people that made me speak
sharply."

For five days Esther and Murietta worked their
way northward to Georgetown and west to Auburn. While staying there overnight,
Esther read in
The Placer Times
that an enterprising young miner named
Alexander Todd and his cousin had recently established a much-needed and
already profitable mail and limited express service to and from the gold fields.
Excellent, she thought. Excellent.  The following morning, Esther and Murietta
angled up toward the Yuba by way of Dutch Flat, Yankee Jim's, then on through
You Bet, Nevada City, Blue Tent, and Goodyear's Bar. The beginnings of a new
system of mining were springing up everywhere. Where the riverbeds were
starting to play out, in the claim-jammed creeks and canyon areas where the
water was insufficient to the task of washing at this time of year, miners
threw in their lot together. Jointly they built lengthy wooden sluices and
enormously long flumes to carry the water from higher points in the mountain.
The resultant flow was more than enough to wash pans and rockers full of deeper
gold-bearing dirt. In a few locations it was funneled and hosed in primitive
ways for carving into the banks and canyon walls to unearth new and even richer
placer deposits.

But more than just the methods of mining
had changed. They arrived at Downieville late in the afternoon. As they turned
their horses into the town's rutted dirt street, both of them suddenly reined
up in stunned disbelief. Halfway to the end of the double line of tents and
shanties, a woman hung from a rope, turning slowly, her legs extending down
through the crude trap door of a hastily built scaffold. Beneath her, on the
ground under the wooden platform from which she had dropped, lay a lump of
moist matter the shape and color of a jellyfish. Esther, shocked but also
puzzled, glanced at Murietta. The blood had drained from his face. Pulled
almost against her will by the unsettlingly strange form beneath the hanged
woman, she walked her horse nearer. Murietta shook his head sadly and followed.

To the right, a few doors down from a
shanty bearing a crudely lettered sign reading:
Justiss of the Peese
, a
tall, stately woman with fine features was loading suitcases and personal
belongings onto a wagon. A well-dressed man wearing a wedding ring carried an
armload of clothing out from their tent-shanty and laid it carefully in the
well behind the seat. Esther reined her horse toward the woman and dismounted.

"In God's name, what has happened
here?"

The woman turned and took a moment before
deciding to answer. "These barbarians have done the unspeakable."

"But what did the woman do?"
Murietta asked.

"It was not what
she
did," the tall woman said, suddenly angry. "But that made no
difference to these… these… animals." She glanced at the dangling corpse
and, for a moment, tears welled in her eyes. Collecting herself, she went on.
"A drunken miner broke down the door of a house last night. Inside was the
Mexican lady who has been hanged, and her paramour. Ugly words were exchanged.
This morning the miner returned to the Mexican woman's cabin. His friends claim
he meant only to apologize. He apparently used insulting Spanish words, the
Mexican woman was angered, and he in turn threatened her and her… male friend.
At which point the Mexican woman pulled a knife from beneath her apron. The
minor was
inside
the cabin, well inside it, when they found him after
she stabbed him to death. I have no doubt he was up to no good."

"And they hanged her? For defending
herself?" Esther asked, appalled.

"Yes. Despite the finding of my husband,
Dr. Carson, that she was at least three months pregnant."

Esther and Murietta turned and looked
again at the semitransparent form lying on the ground under the scaffold.

"God… Oh, good God," Esther
exclaimed. "Then that is… ?"

"It is indeed the fetus," the
woman said, giving a scathing look to a trio of miners walking by. "Two
other men who
claim
to be doctors examined the woman at great length, I
might add—and gave the opinion that she was not with child. A half-minute or so
after they hanged the poor creature, the unborn baby dropped from her
womb."

Esther gasped. She turned to look again
and saw a miner scooping up the formless mass beneath the dead woman with a
shovel. Expressionlessly, he walked off toward the edge of the woods. "I
cannot believe this," Esther said. "I
cannot
believe it!"
Lightheaded, she started to sway.

Murietta, still ashen, got down from his
horse and steadied her.

The doctor's wife started toward her
tent-shanty, then hesitated. "I would leave this place if I were you.
These mountains, in fact. There is an evil growing here that passes
understanding."

"It is the gold," Esther
murmured, trembling as she thought of Miwokan's words.

The woman nodded her head. "Yes, you
might be right. I am beginning to believe that it contains the seed of the
devil himself."

Or the wrath of the sun
,
Esther thought.

After that, Esther had no stomach for
additional surveying of the new water-machinery. Turning about abruptly, she
and Murietta rode half the night to Allegheny Camp, put up in a vacant tent,
and continued south in the morning. They hardly spoke during the entire trip.
When they finally reached the South Fork, Murietta stayed drunk on the claim
and then in Placerville, the new name the miners had given Hangtown, for three
days. The business at Downieville had shaken him as much as it had Esther. When
he sobered up, she called him to the cabin.

"I no longer wish to live
here," she said after pouring him a cup of fresh coffee. "I do not
want to be near all these people—and what some of them are doing."

He shook his head, not sure he had heard
her right, certain that his hangover was playing tricks with his ears.

"I want you to become a full partner
with me, run the claim after I leave."

It took a minute for him to let it sink
in. "Where will you go?" he finally asked, sadness fast coming over
him.

"I don't know. San Francisco first,
to make arrangements. Then someplace where I will be away from all the madness.
Will you accept?"

"Miwokan will not like this."

"He is not my guardian! I own the
property! I shall do as I please!" Esther shouted.

"I meant only that he will not like
my being the boss."

"I'm sorry, Joaquin. I haven't been
myself since Downieville. Will you run the claim for me?"

"Not as a partner. But as a foreman,
for wages, yes."

"You do not want to become rich? Do
you think there is something wrong with that?"

He thought carefully about his answer. He
did not want to betray his thoughts about the subtle hardening in Esther's
personality over the last year. Or his belief that the gold had caused it.
"For others, not necessarily… For me, it would not be a good thing."

"As you like. I will pay you as much
or more than any foreman in the fields."

"Whatever you decide, Esther. But
what of Miwokan?"

"He will simply have to get used to
it. He does not have to know everything. You handle the shipping of the gold,
anyway. Simply deduct your salary from the shipment privately, and keep an
accounting of it only for me."

"It is all in the way I handle it,
in other words?"

"Yes. The way things are done
doesn't have to change. You will simply know that I consider you the foreman.
And Miwokan will not be unhappy about us being apart."

Murietta sighed. "I suspected he had
such feelings."

"It will pass. Especially if I am no
longer here."

"In time," Murietta said,
wondering how long it would take him to get used to her absence himself.
"Everything will be carried out in the same way, then?"

"Yes. You will continue shipping the
gold to Blue Star. Since you will need to be here, I will arrange in San Francisco
for Adams and Company to carry it. I will let you know where I settle as soon
as I
can. I want you to inform me
if the new mail and express operation established by—a man named Alexander
Todd, begins servicing Placerville. If it does, I would like to shift the
business to his firm."

"As you wish," Murietta said,
betraying curiosity about Esther's wish.

"Todd
is—a friend of Warren Barnett," she quickly added. "He——he comes
highly recommended."

That night at the village, she informed
Miwokan of her decision. He accepted the change more stoically than she
expected. After visiting with
Solana
and
Moses, she said good-bye to them all, "For the time being, anyway,"
and returned to the cabin. She pored over its contents, deciding what to take
and what to leave. When she said farewell to a glum Murietta the following
morning and rode for Sacramento, she had with her only her clothing, her diary,
toiletries, the comb-and-brush set Alex had given her, Murietta's gold
locket-watch and the heart-shaped amulet fashioned by Miwokan. The night
before, for the first time in all these months, she had realized she no longer
had the antique watch "Uncle" Billy Graves had given her the day she
became separated from the snowshoe party. Now, as she continued toward Sacramento,
she wondered if Mosby had it; or if one of Sutter's Kanakas had taken it—surely
Sutter himself wouldn't; or if it had simply been lost as she made her way down
out of the mountains.

Two days later, as she waited to board
the paddle-wheeler
Sacramento
, she was too preoccupied with the city's
unusual post office, which had been established aboard the docked bark
Whiton
,
to notice or hear the big-bellied, red-bearded passenger from San Francisco who
brushed past her as he came down off the gangplank.