by Pam Berkman
“The cave is high up in the hills,” Uncle Gwan said. “Nobody knows exactly where. And no one has ever found the map. I almost found the cave once. I was just over near—”
“Enough,” Father said. “I wish you’d stop telling that story. You broke your leg looking for that cave!”
Uncle Gwan stopped talking. “It’s only a story,” he said. But he winked at Sheng.
“Only a story!” Choi Hung repeated.
Bo-Bo liked the stories and songs. But often when Uncle Gwan had finished, she felt sadness settle on their tent.
Sheng pulled her close and whispered to her. “I miss home. Before the war, when we walked into our house at night, we could smell a big pot of rice cooking. It doesn’t smell the same here. I wish we’d never had to leave. I wish we had a big pot of rice. I wish we had enough gold to never worry about the tax again. I wish Crooked Cave was real.”
5 Pickax Flat
The early-morning sky was already bright above Pickax Flat. Only a few small white clouds floated by. Bo-Bo and Sheng had left home when it was still dark. The town stood on level ground among the hills. The road under Bo-Bo’s paws changed from dust and pebbles to hard-packed dirt.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” someone neighed. A hoof clopped down right next to Bo-Bo’s paw! “Get out from underfoot,” said the horse who had nearly flattened her into a flapjack.
“Sorry,” Bo-Bo woofed. The horse had already stomped on, led by a man in a tall hat.
There was so much going on in town, Bo-Bo never knew where to look. Men bustled in and out of the low buildings. There was a saloon with a rooming house next to it, a general store, and a blacksmith.
Halfway down the street, right in the middle of the road, stood a wagon. A man with a bushy, light brown beard walked back and forth in front of it. He yelled and waved his arms.
“Come see the best show this side of the Sierra mountains!” he shouted. “Only twenty-five cents to see the greatest fight of the year!”
Bo-Bo stared. In a cage on the wagon was a grizzly bear. It was bigger than Father and Uncle Gwan put together. It pushed its muzzle through the bars and snarled. Bo-Bo jumped. Men scurried back from the cage.
Bo-Bo pressed up against Sheng’s leg. Sheng kept one hand curled around the little leather bag of gold dust in his pocket. Bo-Bo knew he hated going to town and talking to Mr. Smeets.
Mr. Smeets collected taxes from a small desk in the general store. A line of men waited outside. They were all from China, like Sheng and his family. Sheng took a deep breath and joined them. He was the only boy there.
The door to the store burst open. A Chinese man stumbled out. Mr. Smeets strode out after him.
“I don’t care why you can’t pay the tax!” Mr. Smeets said. “You don’t pay the three dollars, you don’t keep your claim.”
“Just a few more days,” the man pleaded. Like all the Chinese miners, he spoke English to Mr. Smeets.
“The tax is due now,” Mr. Smeets said. “Get out of here. Or else.”
He shoved the man hard and the man stumbled again. The man tried to keep his head up. He walked down the street and out of town.
Mr. Smeets looked at everyone in line.
“I think I’ll have my breakfast,” he said. “You foreigners don’t mind waiting, do you?” He gave them all a nasty grin. Bo-Bo could feel Sheng tense. She worked hard not to growl. But she could glare.
“I think I’ll have myself some Hangtown fry,” Mr. Smeets said. Bo-Bo’s mouth watered. Hangtown fry was made of bacon, oysters, and eggs. It was so expensive, she knew she’d never get to taste it.
Mr. Smeets started to saunter across the street. He didn’t see Bo-Bo. He tripped right over her.
“What the—?!” he yelled. He tried to kick her but missed. A large piece of paper fell out of his jacket. He snatched it quickly from the ground. He looked around suspiciously.
“Keep this animal away from me!” he said. He straightened his jacket and walked toward the saloon.
Sheng crouched down and put his arm around Bo-Bo. “Sorry, girl,” he said softly. She rubbed his cheek with her nose. It wasn’t his fault.
Bo-Bo was thirsty. She saw a water trough for horses down the street.
But the trough was right near the bear’s wagon.
It’s okay, she told herself. That bear’s in a cage. It can’t hurt me.
She padded to the trough and nosed her way between the horses. She stood on her hind legs and put her paws on the edge of the trough. She drank. It was delicious.
“That man will starve to death for sure,” muttered the horse who had almost stepped on Bo-Bo.
“Yep,” the stallion next to her neighed. “No claim, no gold, no nothing.”
The horses seemed to know a lot about what happened in town. Bo-Bo swallowed a big slurp of water.
“Why do they care if people come from China?” she asked the mare. “What difference does it make?”
“Who knows,” the mare answered. “But they do care. They get upset when someone looks different, or talks differently, or eats different food. And then there’s the gold. Makes people want more and more, and makes them hate each other. Seems like nonsense to me, but that’s people for you.”
Bo-Bo heard someone shouting.
It was the bearded man in front of the wagon. “Watch the most spectacular bear fight you have ever seen!” he cried. “This freshly caught grizzly pitted against the famous bull, Columbia! The ferocious bull arrives first thing tomorrow morning!”
The cage was a box with heavy bars on all sides. There was no way the bear could smash it open. She paced back and forth as much as she could in the small space. Every time she tried to turn around, she had to shuffle awkwardly. How terrible, thought Bo-Bo.
“Not recently fed or watered!” cried the man with the brown beard. He walked away from the wagon to some men farther down the street. “She’s ready to fight!”
Bo-Bo was afraid of bears. All smart animals were. But to keep one hungry and thirsty so she would fight? And in a cage? That was just wrong.
The grizzly stopped pacing. She stared at Bo-Bo. Bo-Bo froze. The bear grunted, “Come here, dog.”
6 Resilience
Bo-Bo looked behind her to see what dog the bear was talking to.
“You!” said the bear.
“Me?”
“You!”
Bo-Bo ducked under the trough and walked up to the cage. The grizzly snuffled quietly at her. Each of the bear’s paws was as big as Bo-Bo’s head, and each of her claws was as big as one of Bo-Bo’s paws.
“Do you know the grove of willows near a narrow part of the stream?” She jerked her head toward the far side of town.
“Yes,” said Bo-Bo slowly.
The bear sat on her haunches. She looked more sad than fierce. Her shoulders drooped and her snout pointed miserably at the ground.
“That’s where they got me yesterday,” she grunted. Underneath her gruff voice, she suddenly seemed to choke back whimpers. “But they didn’t get my cub!”
“Your cub?” said Bo-Bo.
“He’s all alone…”
“What happened?” Bo-Bo asked.
“They had a bear trap with some nice juicy fish.” She snuffled again. “My cub will try to follow me, and they might get him, too. Can you try to get a message to him when you leave town? That he should stay away from the camps no matter how hungry he is. His name is Hornet. Mine is Resilience. Tell him that so he’ll know it’s me.”
“I’ll try!” Bo-Bo woofed.
“Bo-Bo!” Sheng called. “Get away from that bear! Come here, girl!”
The bear whimpered. Bo-Bo wished she could make her feel better. She looked at the lock on the cage.
It was a latch with a strong metal pin that slid down to fit into a metal groove. There was a metal bar across it. It wasn’t one of those locks that needed a key.
She’d seen a latch like this on a chicken coop her old pack had raided.
Out there wandering in the hills was a lonely bear cub, far away from his mother. Maybe he’s curled up in a hollow, Bo-Bo thought. Maybe he doesn’t even want to eat. She knew how that felt.
She looked around quickly. Nobody but Sheng was watching her. She stood on her hind legs and put her front paws up on the cage.
Carefully, she lifted the latch with her nose. She couldn’t quite keep it high enough. But Resilience saw what she was doing.
“Oh, dog!” she grunted. “Here, I can help.” She stuck one sharp claw through the bars. It was just enough to hold the latch up. Bo-Bo nosed open the metal bar.
The cage door swung open.
“Bo-Bo!” Sheng shouted. “Get out of the way!”
Resilience leaped from the cage.
“Thank you,” the bear rumbled. She let out a great roar and bounded down the street.
Everything seemed to happen at once. A man hollered, “That bear’s loose! Run! ” Someone screamed. Men ducked into buildings and dove under wagons. Resilience paused for just an instant to drink from the water trough. The horses reared up and galloped through the blacksmith’s shop, sending tools flying. Gunfire rang out. Someone bellowed, “Don’t you dare shoot my investment!”
The voice belonged to Mr. Smeets. He charged toward the man who had fired, grabbed his gun, and threw it to the ground. “That bear’s mine! Don’t you ever risk something that belongs to me!”
Bo-Bo didn’t understand. How could someone own a bear? Resilience belonged to herself.
Resilience bounded toward the hills. Even though the trees and boulders were sparse, she was soon lost among them.
She’s free, Bo-Bo thought. Her cub will be safe.
Sheng ran toward Bo-Bo. “Are you all right, girl?” he asked. She licked his hand and thumped her tail to show him she was. Then he knelt down next to her. “Oh, Bo-Bo,” he said in her ear in a very different kind of voice. “What have you done?”
7 Gone Gold
Mr. Smeets stood in the middle of the road. His fists were clenched.
“Who let my bear out?” he said. “Who did it?”
“I saw it all, Bill,” said the man who had fired the gun. “It was that dog there!”
He pointed at Bo-Bo. She lowered her ears.
“I saw it too,” a third man said. “Used her nose and opened up the latch. Not a bad trick.”
“Well, whose flea-bitten mongrel is that?” demanded Mr. Smeets.
Bo-Bo prickled. “I am not flea-bitten!” she barked.
“She belongs to that foreign boy!” the man with the gun said. He pointed at Sheng.
When he said the word “foreign,” his voice turned nasty. Sheng flinched. Bo-Bo started to shake. Foreign! There was that word again. Didn’t they know Sheng couldn’t go home? Like she couldn’t go back to her old pack!
“Get him!” Mr. Smeets ordered. “And the mutt.”
Two of the men grabbed Sheng. Someone seized Bo-Bo by the scruff of her neck. She struggled, but the man who held her was too strong. Sheng yelled. Bo-Bo growled. A second man grabbed her.
Before she knew it, the men had dragged them behind the saloon. They pinned Sheng against the wall by his shoulders. Two men still held Bo-Bo by the neck fur.
“Let him go!” she growled.
Mr. Smeets leaned over Sheng.
“My bear was worth two hundred dollars, boy,” he said. “And your dog let her go! Did you tell her to do it?”
Sheng shook his head fast. Mr. Smeets put his face right next to Sheng’s.
“You owe me two hundred dollars!” he said. “In gold!”
“I… I don’t have two hundred dollars,” Sheng said. “Not in gold, or any other way.”
“See how much he has, Pete,” Mr. Smeets ordered.
The men held Sheng’s arms fast. Sheng kicked and struggled. His feet came off the ground. Bo-Bo barked desperately. The man named Pete turned out Sheng’s pockets. He found the leather bag of gold dust. He tossed it in his hand and caught it. “Only about three dollars here, I’d say.”
“That’s our gold for the tax!” Sheng protested.
“Not anymore,” Mr. Smeets said.
“That’s not fair!” Sheng shouted.
“Fair?” said Pete. “What’s not fair is you people coming over and taking our gold. You should go back to where you came from.” He put the bag of gold dust into his pocket. “We’ll take this for your tax. And you still owe Mr. Smeets two hundred dollars.”
Sheng went limp. “How am I going to get two hundred dollars?” he whispered. It seemed to Bo-Bo that the fight had gone out of him.
Mr. Smeets smiled. “Well, your father’s claim should just about cover it,” he said.
Sheng’s eyes widened. “No,” he mouthed.
We can’t lose the claim! Bo-Bo thought.
“But tell you what,” Mr. Smeets went on. “It’s your lucky day. It so happens I’ve got a thing or two to do outside town first. How much is gold selling for today, Pete?” he asked.
“Twenty dollars and sixteen cents an ounce,” Pete said, grinning.
“Two hundred dollars is about ten ounces of gold,” Mr. Smeets said. “I’m a forgiving man. I’ll make you a deal. If you bring me ten ounces of gold by sundown, I’ll forget all about this. If not, I’ll take your father’s claim and we’ll call it even. Sound fair to you, Pete?”
“Sounds fair to me,” Pete answered.
Mr. Smeets nodded at the two men who were holding Sheng. They let him go.
“Better get started!” he called. He sauntered away.
The men holding Bo-Bo let go of her, too. She ran to Sheng. The men walked away, laughing.
Sheng’s face twisted with misery and anger. “Where could I ever find that much gold all at once?” he whispered. “The most we’ve ever found is one ounce in a whole month! Why can Mr. Smeets just do that to us?” He kicked the wall.
A crow cawed overhead. Sheng looked up at it and blinked hard. Bo-Bo could tell he was trying not to cry.
“You’re a good dog, Bo-Bo,” he said. “I know you are. But why did you do that? How can I even go home to Father and Uncle? I don’t know anywhere I could get that gold! Not in one day!”
He sat down against the wall and stared at the ground.
Gold again. Those pebbles and bits of rock that always seemed to be so important. And Sheng needed enough gold to be worth two hundred of those things called “dollars.” Before sundown.
I did it again, thought Bo-Bo. I was too soft, just like Thunder said. Sheng and his family were going to lose everything they had worked so hard for. All because she had felt sorry for a bear. They would have nowhere to go. They would starve.
And it was all her fault.
8 The Ringtail
Bo-Bo nudged Sheng’s arm. Would he send her away like Thunder had? You’re weak, said a voice in her head. Soft.
Sheng raised his head.
“Give me a little while, Bo-Bo,” he said. She whimpered. She wished Choi Hung was there.
He’d tell her to stop feeling sorry for herself. He’d call her a moping mutt.
Sheng said, “I have to figure out what to do.”
Oh no you don’t, thought Bo-Bo. I will!
She would fix everything. She had to find a way.
“Hey. Dog. Cage-opening dog.”
Bo-Bo looked up. An animal crouched in the shade beneath the overhang of the saloon roof. She looked like a cross between a weasel and a cat. Her ears were as big as a fox’s, and her bushy tail was striped like a raccoon’s. It was longer than the whole rest of her. Bo-Bo knew what she was. She had seen one before, in the camp where Thunder was shot. The animal was called a ringtail, and miners kept them to eat mice and bugs.
“I saw you rescue that bear,” the ringtail said. “That was bold.” That surprised Bo-Bo. I’m not bold, she thought.
“Listen,” the ringtail said. “I know how you can get enough gold to pay for twenty bears. Get me out of here too, and I’ll show you.”
Bo-Bo saw now that there was a leather collar around the ringtail’s neck. It was attached to a chain that went through a small hole high in the wall and then into the saloon.
Bo-Bo tried to be tough.
“How could you possibly help us?” she said. She moved a little away from Sheng.
The ringtail twitched her big ears. “Mr. Smeets keeps me chained up here,” she squeaked at Bo-Bo. “It’s his saloon, you know. He charges people to see me when he doesn’t have a bear or a bull. If you can free me, I’ll give you something called a map.”
“What good would that do?” said Bo-Bo. She hoped she was still being tough.
“Plenty,” answered the ringtail. “And your boy will know how to read it. It shows the way to a cave near here. There’s so much gold hidden there, it would take a hundred mules to carry it.”
A hundred mules. That was exactly what Uncle Gwan had said. “Crooked Cave?!” Bo-Bo woofed. “You have a map to Crooked Cave? How?”
“I took it from Mr. Smeets. I hate Mr. Smeets. He captured me and keeps me as part of his show. He doesn’t even give me a nice box to keep the sun off me during the day. I don’t like being awake during the day.” She paused. “He locks me in his study at night to catch mice. Sometimes I let them get away.”
“I hate Mr. Smeets too,” Bo-Bo said. She looked at Sheng. He had buried his head in his hands.
“Well,” said the ringtail. “Mr. Smeets got this map last night. Found it hidden on some claim he stole. I heard him say it’s the way to Crooked Cave. He put it high up on a shelf. I stole it, like he stole me. And I hid it in the study. Free me, and it’s yours.”
“Give me the map and then I’ll let you go,” Bo-Bo said.
