by Daniel Knapp
She nodded.
"I cannot be sure, but I think it is gold."
Esther gulped. "Gold?" She glanced at the armoire… "My God! I've got a drawerful of it!"
There was an expression of infinite sadness on Miwokan's face.
"Oh, it can't be. It's probably mica."
"It is not fool's gold." Miwokan's voice was firm.
"Then it must be something else."
"There is nothing else the eyes see the same way," he said with double meaning.
"Well, I'm sure it isn't gold. Why, the river near here is practically full of it."
"I know."
She caught herself suddenly becoming excited, hopeful about something that couldn't be true, and she missed his meaning. "It's probably some other cheap metal, made shiny by the water." She had wasted enough time on the subject. She wanted to get back to her preserves. "Well, I'll show it to Captain Sutter. He'll know, and I'm certain he'll laugh at me when I tell him I thought it was gold."
"Sunsister, I ask you not to show it to Sutter."
"For God's sake, why?"
"To stop what will happen, if I am right."
"But you said you weren't certain. And what do you mean—'happen'?"
"The heart you are wearing. Do you think it is gold?"
"Of course. No other metal could be pounded so thin, shaped so, marked so, without breaking."
"Then I am certain."
She fingered the heart hanging just above her breasts. "This came from the river?"
"Yes. My people, my father's people, and back and back have known of it, and picked more than a hundred hundred stones like this from the sides of the river and in the water where it is not so deep."
Esther felt her heart begin to race. "A thousand or more stones? Miwokan, do you know what that means? What did they do with it all?"
He could not bring himself to tell her all of it yet. First she must have the knowledge, the legend. "They buried it. It is the law of my tribe."
"They never used it? Never had it tested?"
"No."
"Do you know where it is buried?"
"Yes."
"Good Lord, Miwokanl Do you realize what you have if it is truly gold? You and your tribe are rich beyond your dreams. You can be the most powerful tribe in Alta California without raising a single spear. You can have almost anything you want."
He sighed again. The weight of it made him feel as if he had a mountain on his shoulders. "We do not want to be the most powerful tribe. We do not want to be rich in that way. We are rich now. We have everything we need."
"You don't understand…"
"It is you who do not understand!" he snapped. "I am sorry for lifting my voice," he added quickly. "But because my people, many of them, are simple, ignorant, you cannot believe or understand what we believe and understand, what we know, and what those before us knew, forever."
"You are not ignorant. You are not simple."
"Then listen to me, Sunsister. Listen until it is all told. First, remember that we have all we need because we take from the earth only what we need. There is wisdom in that. Wisdom that has been given to us since before any stories were told, by our fathers."
He saw she concurred with the idea, shifted his weight, and leaned forward in the chair. "This wisdom first came to us in stone pictures. Then in stories—myths, legends. I know of this from the mission fathers' books. You have stories, legends as we do."
"Yes, many of them."
"You also know there is truth in them."
"Yes."
"I must tell you of a story, a legend. Perhaps then you will understand about the gold and why you must not speak of it to Sutter or any other." He paused. "Once, before the time when the people made their journey from the far side of the great waters, across the islands of ice and white bears, and down two sides of the great mountains to where the earth and the sun were more kind, to this place and others like it, the sun became angry. His people were praying to other gods, worshipping things the sun had made himself. The sun is a fair god, and he wished to be sure of their misdeeds before he punished them.
"To do this, the sun made the most beautiful thing. Gathering his fire into strong spears, he threw them to the earth, to seven places in the great mountains that are a shield between the great water and the long flat places. Where the spears bit into the mountains, there was great fire. When the fires died, the mountains and rivers where the seven fire spears fell were filled with gold. The sun knew that if his people did not pray to something so beautiful, he would be Wrong and would not punish them.
"His sister, the moon, laughed at him. It was she who first spoke of the betrayal, of the other, tiny gods. To prove she was right, she stopped between the sun and the earth and made the sky cold and black in the day. From the cold sky she made seven spears of ice and hurled them down into the same mountains. Where they cut into the earth and turned the mountains white, there was silver. Some of them fell side by side with the gold. She laughed again and told the sun to wait. His people, she said, would not only make the beautiful gold their god, but the ugly silver also. Then she made the people dream of a great journey to a land not so cold as their own.
"And it was true. They came to the warm land beside the mountains, and they prayed to the gold and silver. The moon laughed, and the sun cried. Then he punished his people. Only the sun and the moon had spears before this. But now the sun gave spears to the people, and great sickness, and war, and greed so the wars would not stop and they would be punished forever.
"When the moon saw this, she cried also. For she saw the people were changed. She wished to have things as they were before she shamed the sun. He would not let her. In the night, when the sun slept, the moon made the people dream of new ways to use the gold and silver, hoping they would trade them for the things of life, and by doing this, make their life kind. She also hoped this would make them worship the sun again. And some of them who learned from the dream did. But not all of them.
"When the sun learned of what the moon had done, he was even more angry. But then he remembered his power and laughed. The sound made the people afraid. He laughed again and made the mountains crack, rise and fall so the silver and gold would be hidden from the people and make them want it more. He left only small bits of it shining in the rivers so that his people would kill each other to have it for their own. Where they prayed to it there would only be sorrow and death. He waited for the moon to appear in the day, and then he punished her also. He took away the fire he had given her for warmth and left her as cold as ice forever. He still laughs when he remembers this. Louder when his weak sister stands between him and the earth and hides the people from his eyes. Loudest of all when he places the earth between himself and his sister, and takes away all the pale light and warmth he lets her keep. His laughter still makes great fear in the people when it moves the earth beneath their feet."
Esther smiled. "Earthquakes have nothing to do with the sun and the moon, Miwokan. But what a marvelous story."
"You must try to understand that in such small stories of small people there are large truths."
"But surely, Miwokan, a man as intelligent as you—"
"Think of the story for a moment. You have read the books of the white man. Has the story not been true again and again? My people have seen and heard proof of it in the time we can remember. We do not pray to gold or silver. We have no war, and we are happy. We have small battles, fights, one man against one man. But not so many. It is true of most of the tribes in what you call Alta California. In the south and across the mountains, where the Mojave, the Yuma, the Ute, the Apache, and the Comanche worship gold, there is war. The whites worship gold, and they have war. The whites from Spain came many winters ago, looking for seven cities made of gold. They were fools. There are no seven cities. Only seven places under the mountains. They all died on spears and swords or by the fire of the desert sun."
He watched her face for a moment. "Now do you understand?"
"Much of what you say is true," Esther admitted. "But are there no people who use gold and do not pray to it?"
"Some would have you believe they do. But in their hearts they pray to it also. That is why we bury it. That is why I ask them to leave it in the river so the light will still dance on the water."
She started to ask where the cache was, but decided against it. "Someone will find it sooner or later."
"When they do, it will change my people and be the end of us. I ask you not to be the one to tell them. I know it will happen one day. All things must end. It is the sun's way. But perhaps it does not have to be now."
Esther was torn by conflicting loyalties and the conviction that what Miwokan feared for his people might not, need not, happen if the metal was gold after all. She wanted to comply, but she also felt she owed it to Sutter to reveal all this to him if it was true. If it was gold, she could pay Alexander Todd back easily. And then it struck her. If it was gold, she would also have the wherewithal to have Mosby traced… track him down… kill him. Or have him killed. Her pulse quickened.
If it was here, it was probably elsewhere on Sutter's land. At least that seemed possible, along the river lands if nowhere else. She suddenly realized that no matter what Miwokan believed about the stones, there still was no absolute proof that it was gold; and that all this talk might be meaningless. The practical side of her New England mind took over.
"I want to think about everything you have told me today. I have many reasons to tell Captain Sutter of the stones, but I will not—until I have thought much about it, and I am certain that it actually is gold. I must know that before I make up my mind. The stone must be tested by someone who really knows."
"An assayer." Miwokan was always surprising her.
"Yes."
"That can be done."
"In Yerba Buena? Monterey?"
"No. There are men there, white men, who could do it. But until you decide, I want no one in these places to know of it."
"But where else can it be done?"
"There is a place, far to the south, near the Mission San Fernando. Gold was found there six winters ago. A small place of gold. They do not dig much there now. But I believe such a man could be found in those parts. Or near the Queen of Angels pueblo."
"Will you take the stone there?"
Miwokan thought for a moment. He wondered again if she had been sent by the sun to begin the end of the Miwok. "No," he said, finally. "My people will need me." He rubbed his angular jaw and strong cheekbones with thumb and forefinger, thinking of all he had told her and the need to bring the teaching home in her mind. He gripped the bridge of his nose and thought about what he was certain would happen to those who carried the stone. It made him more sad than he had been after his first wife died in childbirth.
"I will send my son and my brother."
Esther laughed. "Your son is hardly older than mine."
"I have another son. He has twenty winters. He has lived with his mother's sister since the time, two years after his mother's death, when Solana became my wife."
"I never dreamed you were old enough to have a son of twenty."
"I have forty-one winters."
"And Solana?"
"Thirty-seven."
She was astonished. "The sun and the earth have been good to you. They have kept you young."
"Think of that," he said, "while the two men I trust more than any others ride south through the long valley of blowing yellow grass with your stone."
Twenty-four
South Fork Cabin
December 25, 1847
Captain Sutter shared Christmas dinner with me today. He came this morning after celebrating his Yuletide in European style at the fort last night. He brought me the comb and brush Alex gave me as a wedding present. It was found by a party of his men who traveled to Truckee Lake to sift through what was left there. He has had it since June, but feared it would upset me unduly in its reminder of Alex. Indeed, I did feel far more than a pang for a time, but that is all in the past. Now it is more than a matter of not wanting Alex to see me as I am, know that I was responsible for his son's death, in a way. I cannot involve him in what I plan to do to Mosby if the means and opportunity present themselves.
Grateful to say the reawakening of my feelings continues. I feel more fully alive each week. I am glad this year is coming to a close. Beginning to study the manner in which the books Sutter continues to bring are written. (Became aware how poorly I write upon reading the fluent sentences of Joaquin Murietta's note. Shameful. And he not even a native! Must improve.)
I think of Murietta from time to time. Handsome man. Lord, what a foolish cow I am. Well, he was too short for me by an inch or two even if I had been so disposed. And I wasn't. And I am not. And I doubt I ever will be. Toward him or any other male animal. Prattle.
Merry Christmas little… I must think of a name for the poor child. Earliest conclusions about my feelings for him seem to be borne out. But will wait still… Solana surely loves him.
The two Indians have been gone more than a month now. Have suspended all thought about the stones and what to do about them until they return. Useless to waste the time. Cross the bridge when you come to it.
Sutter brought a spinning wheel and a volume of the writings of a Roman, Epictetus, to me as Christmas gifts. Read a bit earlier, after he left. Some of it interesting. Particularly one idea—that how we perceive and think of events is the cause of much of our sorrows, rather than the events themselves.
Cannot rid myself of the ridiculous notion that I will someday see Murietta again. Foolishness. In any case, dear Lord, I offer up thanksgiving on this the day of your birth, for staying with me through these last twelve months. My fervent prayers go out to you for Alexander Todd's continued good health and prosperity. I know it has been a difficult year for him as well. Painful, I am sure. Pray that he has come alive again after long sorrow. And hope that the coming New Year will hold for him an end of tribulations and the beginning of a new and happier life.
Forgive me also, dear Lord, for my continued desire for vengeance. As I grow stronger, the urge to have Mosby at my mercy, somehow, someday, fills me and silences the God-fearing young girl I once was. Elizabeth Purdy Todd was not capable of such thoughts. But Esther Cable is. Perhaps it will not be gold and the matter will be put to rest as simply impractical wrath, impossible to act upon. But if it is gold, dear Lord, forgive me for what it may one day make possible…
On the last day of the year Esther sat staring at her morning coffee, pondering the awesome beauty of the previous day's total eclipse, remembering the brief terror of the earthquake that followed it, and the dream she had awakened from before sunrise.
She was driving a wagon loaded with goods. What they were was not clear. The team of horses, the wagon were engulfed in a sea of bearded faces. The men and women clawed at one another, scarcely able to breathe any more than she could in their frantic efforts to exchange gold coins for the objects she seemed to be selling. One man shot another. A woman in a shirt and trousers scratched out the eyes of an old man with white hair who was next to be served. Then Esther saw that they were standing in moving water up to their ankles, their calves. They stretched as far as the eye could see, a virtual multitude. In the distance, where the ground seemed to rise, Miwokan stood, watching. The sadness in his eyes made her weep…
The sound in the doorway startled her, and she looked up. Mikowan was standing there with his brother. He was trembling. He came in and placed the stone on the table. His brother, silver-haired and in his fifties, stayed just outside the door. In the sunlight Esther could see the ugly purple streak running from his temple and through a furrow of burned hair.
"It is gold," Miwokan said.
"What happened?" Esther was suddenly aware of the ineffable grief in Miwokan's eyes.
He told her.
They had gone to San Fernando, then on to the Pueblo de Los Angeles. They found an assayer, and he teste
d the stone. Either they had been seen with the gold or someone had told of it. Crossing the valley of San Fernando on the return journey, they were overtaken by three men. One had a red beard and was fat. Another had only half of one hand left. He was short. The third was tall and lean. His left arm dangled and flopped this way and that, as if there were no bones in it. The tall, lean man killed Miwokan's son with a pistol. Miwokan's brother had scattered their horses with a scream, leaped on his own pony, and outdistanced them after the redbearded man grazed his scalp with a shot from a rifle. The three men had asked where the Indians found the gold.
Esther put her arms around Miwokan, rested her head against his chest, sobbing. "I'm so sorry. So terribly sorry. It was my fault."
"It was not," Miwokan said. "I sent them. I knew the gold would shine in the sun and make the rattlesnakes dance. I only did not know if two, one, or no one would return."
"God in heaven, I want to bury it! All of it!" She ran to the armoire, pulled out the baggy pair of trousers she had not worn since the birth of her baby, knotted one leg, opened the drawer, and filled the pant leg with stones. "Will you take it? Please! I understand now! I want you to bury it!"
"No," Miwokan said. "It will be more good if my people see you do it."
As the sun cleared the mountains on the first day of the New Year, she stood on the ragged lip of ice again, over the convex waterfall where she had sent the dust of her firstborn son toward the ocean. The Indians along the bank watched Miwokan's sunsister as she gazed down at the white, rushing water arcing toward the deeper place where they had buried the golden stones for hundreds of years. For a moment she wondered how much was down there, buried in sand. The gold in the water was unreachable, as was Mosby, no doubt. Perhaps, she thought, this is God's way of showing me he is against my taking venegance. We shall see.
She looked at Miwokan, then Solana, then swept her gaze past the rest of the tribe standing on the riverbank. Sighing, she turned the trousers upside down and watched the small, gleaming pieces of rock drop into the tumbling water and disappear beneath the fall.
