by Daniel Knapp
Both women screamed. Startled awake, the two infants shrieked and then began a continuous wailing. The bear stood there, confused and growling as the sounds filled the room. Paralyzed by the sight of the beast, Esther took in the claws, the enormous, fanglike teeth. Then she noticed the portion of the bowel slanting down the lower belly to the animal's groin. Time was suspended, expanded. It seemed as though she had forever to think about it.
A remembrance of Mosby and the torn, raw, chafed feeling between her legs when she awoke alone in the snow and found John Alexander dead flashed across Esther's mind. The bear took a step toward her. The memory, the grizzly's movement, and her resurging maternal instinct galvanized Esther. Forgetting entirely about the loaded pistol within reach, she rolled from the bed, naked, and grabbed the two spears leaning against the near wall. Whirling, she pointed them at the bear and waited. The animal took a second swaying step and stopped, distracted as Solana darted from her chair and picked up her son.
Esther felt the heavy spears tipping downward and apart. She moved her grip on them forward as the bear grunted, looking at her, then at Solana, then at Esther again. Esther's knees shook uncontrollably now, as the grizzly turned its head and looked at the baby screaming on the bed. She tried to shout at the animal. No sound came from her throat. As she stared at the unnaturally dry, leathery snout, pendulous black lips, enormous teeth, broad nose, and piggish eyes, she felt the hollowness in her stomach expand. She no longer had knees, legs. She felt herself going, fought it, then froze as a log in the fire snapped and the bear moved forward again.
The points of the spears were separated. As the bear trundled toward Esther, the one held steadiest shallowly sliced the side of his throat. The huge animal backed up a step and roared at the stinging pain. Swiping at the spear, the bear batted it out of Esther's hands.
She hung on to the second spear and swung its point upward as the bear moved again, dropping toward the floor in her direction. As it came down, the animal impaled the skin of its throat on the sharp stone point. Ignoring it, the bear continued dropping, his neck muscles pushing the spear and Esther backward until the butt of the shaft jammed into the wall behind her. The thick stone point stopped as the beast kept moving toward her. It jarred the bear's head upward, and the combination of opposing forces sent it slicing, ripping deep, through skin, fat neck muscle, and arteries before it severed two cervical vertebrae.
The bear let out a choked roar. Its vision blurred completely and began to darken as it lashed out erratically, its whirring claws barely missing Esther. In a surge of spasmodic effort and rage, the bear lifted its body and spun to the right, picking the spear and Esther up off the floor and whirling her almost halfway around the room. She crashed into the armoire as the bear took two last steps toward the draft of cool air from the door and collapsed, twisting over onto its back.
To Solana, her senses blunted by terror and hysteria, her perception reshaped by the amazing sight of Esther pointing two spears at the grizzly, it had all appeared differently. Esther had attacked the bear. Esther, in some awesome manifestation of the powers that had brought her across the deep snow and the great mountains, had literally flown in a circle to slice through the bear's neck. It was all confirmed, set in psychological concrete now, as she watched Esther rise from the floor screaming in rage and release, saw her pick up the first spear and plunge it into the bear's body again and again and again.
She did not see or hear the white woman now, as the panic and hysterical trembling overtook Esther and she collapsed, exhausted, beside the bear, crying and sobbing in both grief and thanksgiving.
When the worst of the crying, the images of Mosby dead and disemboweled, the short bursts of hysterical laughter, the coldness and shuddering were over, Esther crawled into bed and rocked the baby mindlessly. She was still sobbing intermittently in her sleep when Miwokan and the rest of them came and stared in awe at the carcass of what they had always believed was the giant dog of the gods.
Twenty-two
The bear carcass was gone when she awoke, and for a moment she wondered whether it had not been a dream. But then she saw the dried flecks of blood the bear had spewed out in the last moments of his attack. They were all over her body. Solana informed her that the Indians had taken the bear to skin it and dry the hide, butcher and cure the meat. Esther quickly told Solana to pass on a message. The bear meat was her gift to the tribe. The skin to Miwokan, her sunbrother.
They began calling her Sunsister then, and even Solana ignored her brief protestations. They came with gifts—garments of cloth, fur and buckskin, baskets of flour and meal, berries, fruit, dried meat, tallow, and nuts.
When Miwokan appeared, she noticed that he treated her even more lovingly like a younger sister, but now he also showed her the respect of an equal and added to that a shading of what seemed like reverence.
She lay in bed for two days, nursing, watching them come and go, letting Solana tend to her every need. She was certain the experience with the bear would push her back into apathy, another period of numbed emotion. Instead, what the birth had started, the terror and then the rage, the venting of all her bottled up hostility, the violent thrusting of the spear into the quivering, bloody flesh of the dead bear had finished. Somehow the sudden nearness of death had reawakened her to the possibilities of life. She grew impatient with Solana's near-obeisance. After taking only small amounts of food and liquid at first, she became ravenous. To her surprise, the baby's insistent demands annoyed her. She had not felt simple irritation for a long time.
She got out of bed and began planning for the winter. There was soap and butter to make, there were berries and fruit to preserve. She would need jars and sugar, lye. Sutter had them. Perhaps he could also find her a spinning wheel. After a week, she had an unquenchable desire to ride. She felt as though she were sixteen again—instead of going on nineteen! She laughed at that, and weighed the possibility of taking a trip. But no, the baby was too young, she could not impose that much on Solana, and as well as she felt, she didn't wish to be with people yet. She told Solana that she needed to be alone much of the time for a while; that she would like her to come in the mornings for a brief period to help a bit and allow her to leave the baby for an hour or so. Solana quietly acceded to her wishes. Unless it was necessary, none of the Indians but Miwokan, who came only every few days, ventured near the cabin except the two who watched from a distance.
She began riding each morning, slowly at first, then finding each day that she could move her horse a little faster. Most of the time she ambled along the flat portions of the riverbank, drinking in the vistas, the darting fish, and the first tints of fall. She used the rides, the time alone, to think. She had no desire to put on a woman's clothing yet, any more than she wanted to be around other whites. That might take a long time, she thought as she walked her horse along the bank one morning.
Suddenly Mosby crossed her mind, and she was seized with a cold rage that was frightening. I actually want to kill him! she said to herself. A minister's daughter! She shrugged, guessing that she would never see him again, let alone have the opportunity to take revenge. She guided her horse to a shallow stretch of the riverbed, then crossed to the other side. Turning to her right, she suddenly saw the figure lying on the bank downstream.
At first she thought it was an animal. It was the size of a young male deer, and from a distance of thirty yards she could not see that what looked like mud-caked fur was actually a man's clothing. As she drew closer, a tremor of apprehension rippled through her and she drew the loaded, long-barreled, five-shot Colt out of the sling on the side of her saddle. She noticed his horse, foraging for itself nearby, before she realized the figure was a man and he was unconscious. He was covered with dirt and grime, breathing shallowly, and unarmed.
She dismounted and, still holding the pistol, turned him over, almost recoiling from the stench. There was an odor stronger than that of a man's unwashed body. She realized, just as she became aware that hi
s face and shirt were crusted with blood almost a week old, that he smelled like the bear.
She brought his horse back. Pulling and dragging, she lifted and laid the man over the saddle and tied him to the pommel with his belt.
Murietta stayed with her for a month. He did not regain consciousness for several days, ate his first moderate meal with Esther on her birthday, October 26, and could not walk until the first week of November. The only words he spoke regularly were Gracias, señora and por favor. Another long lost sensibility returned to her: deep compassion. She tended him, cared for him, fed him at first. When he was able, he did light chores for her, replaced the poorly repaired door bolt, and made the latch more secure. It surprised her that she was in no hurry for him to leave. She grew almost comfortable with him, became practically unaware that only a few yards separated them at night. When she nursed, she simply turned her back to him.
She asked him questions: about his name, what had happened to him, whether or not he had been attacked by a bear, but he only smiled and shrugged apologetically. She wrote down the initials on his saddle, "J.M.," and he looked at the letters for a minute, thinking, then smiled and nodded.
"What is your name?" she asked.
He smiled, thought carefully for a moment, and said, "Ah, sí. Mi nombre."
"Yes. What is your name? Your nombre?"
"Name," he repeated. "Name, Joaquin Alejandro."
She was listening for a surname beginning with an "M," and was certain she had misheard him.
"Yes," she said. "Yes. Your name is Joaquin Malejandro."
"Si," he said, thinking quickly. "Joaquin Malejandro."
"My name is… Esther."
"Esther," he repeated. "Esther es su nombre."
Sutter did not like Esther having the sinewy, slender, good-looking, dark-haired man with her in the cabin, wounded and healing or not. Murietta appeared to be asleep on a blanket and his saddle over in one corner when Sutter stopped by. He was on his way to inspect the progress his hired carpenter, James Wilson Marshall, was making on the sawmill. Marshall and he were going partners in a mill downriver near Coloma.
"Will it pay?" Esther asked.
"Gott in Himmel, who knows? It may just be another pipe dream that will cost me more money. You don't know… you couldn't imagine the troubles I am going through."
She saw him glance at Murietta and frown. "Tell me about your problems," she said, sensing it would be better to keep him away from the subject of her "visitor."
"Gott, you just don't know! I need another tanner, and there's none to be found. Shoes. We need more shoe production. The new flour mill is not finished, and I have to make a payment on it. You would not believe how much the cost of building it has increased."
He turned again and looked at Murietta. "Who is this man?" he asked, whispering, before Esther could head him off again.
"A vaquero, I suppose. I found him, wounded, lying beside the river."
"You are a very trusting woman. He may be dangerous."
"He has helped me. He is a gentleman."
"I see." Sutter frowned again, obviously thinking about the sleeping arrangements as he glanced at the bed. "What is his name?"
"Malejandro. Joaquin Malejandro."
"And has he told you how he was hurt? I can see for myself that he has been in some sort of brawl."
"No. He speaks no English."
Sutter put on his hat and walked to the door. "I have to go, but I will be back in a day or two. I speak enough Spanish to find out just who this… this Joaquin Malejandro fellow is, and why he is in these parts."
It was time to get him off his protective high horse again. "I have decided to stay on here, John. I want to pay you fifty of the one hundred dollars I owe you for this place."
Sutter pulled her out of the doorway, shushing her with a finger to his lips. "Do not show or speak of money while this… this Malejandro is here."
"But why? He—"
"Esther, you do not know what men are capable of doing."
She smiled to herself. If you only knew. "We will discuss it when you return, then?"
"As you wish. But not where he can hear us. I will have Miwokan send another man or two to look over things here until I return. In the meantime, be on your guard."
"John, I think you're being silly."
"Do not speak to me that way!" Sutter snapped, exasperated. "You are practically a child. And you are not aware how close danger can come before it is too late."
Murietta was gone when Sutter stopped briefly on his return trip the following afternoon.
"He must have heard what you said."
"If he had nothing to hide, nothing to fear, he would have stayed." Sutter was obviously delighted she was not sharing her cabin with a man any longer.
Smiling, aware now of the jealousy that tinged Sutter's estimate of the situation, however much wisdom it also contained, Esther shook her finger teasingly. "You are simply a suspicious man, John. Look what he left as payment for food and lodging."
Sutter stared at the solid-silver spur, took on an expression that would have suited a chastised child, then quickly shrugged in deprecation.
It was time to change the subject again. "Will you stay for dinner?"
Still thinking about the stranger, Sutter shook his head distractedly. "Some coffee then?"
"I do not have time for even that," he said petulantly. "There is so much to do, so much to keep track of."
Esther smiled as she watched him ride off. She sat down to dinner after feeding the baby and retrieving the note she had found that morning after her ride.
It had been weighted with the spur. She read it again with the same sense of astonishment and speculation.
November 20, 1847
My dear Señora Esther:
This is to repay you for your kindness and much needed care. You are an angel of mercy and patience.
I ask your forgiveness. There were things I could not tell you and it would have been unforgivably rude not to answer someone so generous. The most simple solution was not to speak your language. If I had, I also would have been tempted to ask you a question that you might have mistaken for additional rudeness. And that is, why would someone so beautiful wish to wear a man's clothes?
Again, forgive me, and many thanks.
Adios,
Joaquin Alejandro Murietta
She went to the small mirror in the armoire door and looked at the scar tissue on the tip of her nose. Musing, she reached up and touched her tangled hair, which had grown back to shoulder length. How could anyone think of me as beautiful? she thought. She attributed it to excessively worded gratitude and then dismissed it entirely as she realized that, once again, she had forgotten to show Sutter the yellow-streaked stones. To remind herself the next time he came, she opened the drawer, took one stone out, and placed it in the middle of her table.
Twenty-three
The next time Miwokan appeared at the cabin, he brought back the two spears, cleaned and repaired. He set and wrapped them with unknotted rawhide in the form of an X, then hammered a triangle of three wooden pegs upon which to hang the spears over the head of Esther's bed. As he drove the last peg into a chink between two logs, he spoke over his shoulder to Esther.
"Sunsister, you had a man with you, and you sent him away. I know he was broken when he came to you, but he was straight again after you healed him. Was he no good?"
Esther found herself flustered and then a bit too eager to put the matter straight. "I didn't send him away," she said. "And he didn't come to me. And I don't know if he was good or not. It was not that way."
Miwokan hung the spears up and turned to her. "You need a man, Sunsister. You would be more happy with a man here."
"I'm quite happy, thank you," she said, an edge to her voice. She immediately regretted the tone and tried to make up for it. "You don't understand," she said more softly, wanting him to comprehend. "I found him and I brought him here only because he was injured, sick. It w
asn't meant for us to have… closeness."
"But he passed many nights in your cabin."
"He slept in the corner, after he was well enough. Before that, I slept in the corner. When he was in the corner, I was in the bed. In any case, I like being alone."
Miwokan shook his head. "I understand what you are saying. But I do not understand him. Perhaps the sickness took away his eyes."
"What do you mean?" Esther said, as Miwokan noticed the stone on the table and walked toward it.
"Anyone can see that you would make a fine wife. I have seen that and thought of it many times, Sun- sister." He picked up the stone and studied it.
"Why would you think such a thing?"
"If I did not know how much sorrow it would bring to Solana, I would lay many shells at your feet."
She did not know what to say.
"But I do not share the ways of many of my people," he said, knowing she was uncomfortable. "One wife is enough for me. If you were my wife, I would have to send Solana away, and I could not do that."
Esther finally found the words. "Thank you," she said, not looking at him. "It makes me… happy… and proud… to know that you think so much of me. Happier still to know that you love Solana that much."
He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. "There are no more words to speak on it. You are my sister, that is all." He put the stone down on the table again and thought for a moment. "Where did you find this?"
"In the river. Do you know what it is?"
He sighed. "Sit with me for a moment while I think."
She took a chair opposite him and watched as he gazed at the stone, then shut his eyes for a long time. "It is in my mind," he finally said, "to tell you I do not know what it is, but you are my sister and I do not want to be false with you."
"You do know what it is, then?"
He sighed again. "Yes, I think I do."
"Then tell me."
"This is for your ears. No one else is to hear it."
