California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1)

by Daniel Knapp

  "If you cannot, there is another way. Once or twice in Alta California, the Spanish and the Mexicans paid to use the lands of my people. They… leased it. Such a thing has not been often done. But it might work for us."

  "I would use the land, pay you for the use, but you would own it?"

  "Yes, it would be a way to stop the legend from being fulfilled. For I can see no way harm could come to us from the gold if we were simply working for you. You would gain what you want, we would not be seeking the gold for ourselves, and we would not have other whites here."

  "But why not share in the profits with me? That would make you stronger."

  "That is the part of it we cannot do without risking the anger of the sun. If we dig not for ourselves but for another, we are simply working at a new thing. It is no different from working in the wheatfields for Sutter."

  "Is there no way I can persuade you to take some of the gold for yourselves?"

  "No. You will pay my people the same wage Sutter pays us. I will watch over the work and receive a small amount more. I will be… the boss."

  Esther laughed. "The chief boss…" She reached out and touched Miwokan's hand. "Would the sun be angry if I paid you more than Sutter? After all, it is harder work. And the water is cold."

  "We have been in the water forever. It does not bother us. But wait until the white men are in it. They will find it not easy to work the riverbeds for long."

  "You think they will go away?"

  "No. They will want the gold as you do. For reasons not as good, but just as much. They will suffer in the getting of it. From the icy waters and in many other ways."

  "I want to pay you twice as much as Sutter."

  "That is too much. I do not want to tempt the sun to punish us."

  "Your people cannot work all year at it. The snow and ice will stop the work every winter."

  "That is true."

  "Twice as much, then?"

  "One and a half of one," Miwokan said.

  "Done. But twice as much for the chief boss."

  He smiled then, but only halfheartedly. Normally his sense of humor would have had him grinning broadly, and Esther finally realized how much he had yielded simply to please her. "We will start now," he said. "It is a simple thing when the stones are close to the surface. Later, when those are gone, it will be more difficult."

  "I will pay you and your men in gold. Is that all right?"

  "It does not matter to me. However and whenever you wish. I ask only one thing of you, Sunsister."

  "Anything," she said, already feeling a surge of desire to get started, to begin taking the first steps toward the day of her vengeance.

  "Sunsister, I ask only that we do not touch any of the gold under the waterfall. And that you speak of that gold to no one."

  "Of course."

  "There is enough in other parts of the river to give you more than you will need."

  "I will never tell a soul about it."

  "Do not be afraid," he said as he slipped the long knife out of its sheath and took hold of her hand. "This is our way of sealing all we have agreed to. It is a swearing." Interlocking his fingers in hers, he pressed their palms together and quickly, lightly, sliced skin deep across the soft flesh at the base of their thumbs.

  She felt faint for a moment as she watched the blood emerge from each of their hands, trickle, down and then commingle inside their tightly pressed wrists. But then, suddenly, in her mind she saw the knife in her own hand and the flesh beneath it was Mosby's and the cut was long and inches deep and the blood was gushing out of it—and she smiled with clearheaded, almost frightening satisfaction.

  Twenty-eight

  South Fork Cabin

  May 27, 1848

  Oh, Alex, it seems impossible that almost five months have passed so quickly. I must review what I have written since the turn of the year. Think upon it with a cool head, and be sure that what I am about to propose to Sutter and the Mormon, Sam Brannan, as well as those in charge of things at the Blue Star Shipping Company in Yerba Buena—or rather San Francisco, as it is now called—is sound. I wonder now what you would think of this imminent journey; whether it and my plans are sensible or simply the harebrained ideas of a foolish young woman.

  So much has happened since the discovery of gold that I must list things as they happened, in order:

  Marshall's discovery was known to the men, several Mormons, and a number of Coloma Maidu among them, working on the sawmill. In the beginning, Sutter wished to keep it all a secret. Yet he told me and, if I recall the conversation, immediately wrote of it to his Californio friend, Mariano Vallejo, in Sonoma. Vallejo kept the confidence, but others did not. Little wonder that the word has spread. And now Sutter tells me there are literally hundreds of men searching, panning, then quickly moving on to other sites all around the area of his mill. At first I was alarmed, but thus far I am told the men are orderly, well-behaved, and although they do not pay the Indians equal wages, they have not lifted a hand to harm them.

  Miwokan seems a bit reassured by all this—resigned might be a better word. He does not complain and has never tried to dissuade me from my goal. But he is far from happy. I have honored his request that we not touch what is beneath the waterfall and that I do not reveal prior knowledge of the gold to Sutter. I am certain he is satisfied that as long as we do not remove the original cache from its sacred place, his god will be appeased, but I am not sure how he feels about the future and the part I play in it. He does not reveal his deepest feelings to me on the matter. I must confess that instinctively I sense that sooner or later that gold will cause fearful things to happen—some of it to the Indians. It would have come to pass sooner or later anyway, all of this. I cannot do much elsewhere, but I give you my word, Alex, that one way or another I will use some of the power the gold brings to me to see that Miwokan and his people are protected.

  Alex, if you could see the astonishing amount of gold nuggets, flakes, and dust that now almost covers the floor of the new storage shed Miwokan's men have built! Already I possess more wealth than I ever dreamed of! And there is no end in sight! At first we panned with close-woven, shallow grass bowls, my skillets, and two washbasins, swirling the bottom sand out of them, as Sutter instructed, until only the gold remained. Some of the men still do that, as do I, for as long as I can stand the icy-cold mountain water, which is to say for about an hour at a time. Lately we have been using also something Miwokan devised by altering Mwamwaash's and Moses'—rocker cradles. Oh, God, Alex, he IS my son, even if Luther Mosby is his father. And he is named after my grandfather, Moses Purdy. Thank God he is daily showered with love since I gave him over to Solana's care, for such feelings are simply not in me.

  I wander from my original purpose. In any case, Miwokan removed a slat from the foot of each cradle and fitted wooden ridges across their bottoms. We shovel in the river dirt, pour in water, and then, tilting and rocking the cradle, wash the dirt out through the opening more quickly and in much greater amounts. The result is much more gold, caught on the wooden ridges, than before. Sutter saw the device on his last trip through here and told us it resembles a larger invention called the Long-Tom, which has been used elsewhere, according to one of his books. He suggested we build a number of them, as he plans to, and dispense with the ordinary panning entirely. No doubt we will.

  Now what does it all portend? First, there is no one here but us—for now. But there is gold here as well as at Coloma, and sooner or later prospectors are bound to arrive. Second, Miwokan has heard of nuggets being found in many places by Indians both north and south of here, so it is more than possible that it will soon be "discovered" by whites in a great number of locations in these mountains. How many and how far a distance in both directions from here? Impossible to say. But probably considerable.

  Which brings me to my idea. Would you not agree that if the prospectors come, they will need supplies? And that if they do not come in great numbers, surely settlers will, at least at the rate
they did last year. Thus, if the supplies are such as might be used by settlers as well as prospectors, they would be equally, if not as quickly, salable. Now, I do not wish to become involved in such a business directly, nor do I desire yet for traffic with so many people as it would entail. But if I were to do what my father did to supplement his meager income from the ministry—that is to say, become a partner to one or more businessmen by providing money for them to increase the number of their transactions—then I could reap the possible rewards of such a venture without direct involvement.

  I have read and reread the last paragraph and it seems sound. Why then do I have such a queasy feeling in my stomach? Perhaps, Alex, it is that I am a girl not yet twenty who no longer has you to lean on. And these things seem exceedingly intricate to me because I am ignorant of the workings of business. But then my father was not a businessman by any measure. He cared nothing to learn of every action, every ledger entry. He relied only on common sense and his estimate of a man's intelligence and honesty… and so shall I!

  There. It is decided. Fears or not. Tomorrow night I will begin mending the slits in the dress I wore when I… crossed the mountains. Oh, God, Alex, I cannot think of that time without filling up with hatred and vengefulness. I must suspend that train of thought until it can be implemented… think of the immediate task… The long matching gloves are here somewhere. And surely Sutter will have a hat bearing a veil to cover this ugly nose. He has just about everything at the fort! As soon as it is possible, I will go to Coloma to speak with him, journey on to New Helvetia and see Brannan, and thence to San Francisco! Pray for me.

  Twenty-nine

  When Esther reached Sutter's idle sawmill just before noon on the last day of May, she was shocked by his appearance. There were dark circles under his eyes. His lustrous gray hair was dull, unkempt, and speckled with mud. Normally erect in bearing, he stooped as though the weight of two worlds were on his shoulders. She found him idly setting out a lunch of bacon, frijoles, flour tortillas, and coffee for his Californio friend Mariano Vallejo. Esther had not expected Sutter to have a visitor, and at first she was reluctant even to dismount. She still had no veil. The heavyset alcalde of Sonoma would see her scar. Beyond the embarrassment, he would undoubtedly ask questions. But Sutter would not hear of her leaving without refreshment. Even before she dismounted, he began putting her at ease.

  "Mariano, this… is… the widow of the settler, Cable, I was telling you about. Is she not a lovely lady?"

  Esther was relieved by Sutter's introduction but disturbed by the weak, quavering tone of his voice.

  Vallejo bowed, took her hand and touched it with his lips. "Muy hermosa," he said, looking straight into her eyes and smiling. There was not a trace of sexual interest in his voice or expression. It comforted her when he looked away without so much as a glance at her scarred nose.

  "My friend Vallejo," Sutter said too heartily, "is a gentleman, a former general, and a fast and loyal comrade. He virtually rules Sonoma."

  Vallejo took Esther's arm and led her to the camp table Sutter had set out. "He exaggerates, señora. I merely see that the law is carried out."

  "Were there only an alcalde in these parts," Sutter grumbled, as he sat down and toyed with his food.

  Vallejo turned to Esther. "He is beset by troubles. You have come to see him at the worst of times."

  Puzzled, Esther caught a glimpse of Sutter's expression. He had been signaling Vallejo to silence. "But the gold…?"

  "The gold is the least of his problems," Vallejo responded. "It could solve everything else—if he could find enough of it. With gold, he could—"

  "Curse the gold!" Sutter shouted, spraying bits of food onto the table. He looked sheepishly at Vallejo. "Forgive me Mariano. But you know I am distressed."

  "Of course," Vallejo said.

  For the first time she could remember, Esther heard a note of pleading in Sutter's voice and saw a trace of tears in his eyes. "Please speak no more of it, Mariano. I do not want to burden her with any of it."

  Vallejo nodded. "As you wish, John."

  Sutter could not look straight at Esther. His hands were trembling.

  "Is the panning not going well for you?" she asked.

  "Yes… We can speak of that…" Sutter answered vaguely, his mind obviously on something else. "We are not taking nearly the amount of ore out of the river I expected. Not one quarter as much." He gazed off, distracted for a moment, then turned back to Esther. "Oh, yes, the Indians," he said, as if she had asked about them. "Those who work for me dawdle while their brothers, working for themselves—on the land I leased from them up- and downriver—pull nuggets and flakes out of the gravel and the riverbank by the handful."

  Vallejo tried to soothe his friend. "It is only a matter of luck."

  But Sutter suddenly waved his arms wildly. "Industry!" he shouted, off on another tack entirely. "If only I had a dozen hardworking, industrious men!"

  "Can't you hire them?" Esther asked.

  "They will really work for no one but themselves, these Indians." Sutter's voice trailed off again. He gazed at the rushing water of the Middle Fork, nodding first, then shaking his head, holding a conversation with himself. "On my land… my land."

  "You have leased more than you can control," Vallejo said gently.

  Sutter brought his hand down on the table so hard his coffee cup jumped. The liquid spilled and dripped onto his pants, but he didn't seem aware of it. "I have paid for the use of this land!" he shouted. "And they ignore my protests, white and red alike! They seem to find gold without even trying! Wherever I have my men stop to pan, the stones bearing ore are in pitifully short supply."

  Esther was increasingly unsettled by Sutter's behavior. She watched now as his hands moved constantly, touching his lap, the table, his metal camp plate, his hair. "Is there no way to stop them?" she asked quietly, hoping to focus his attention, wondering at the same time what it might be like if the prospectors overran her own claim—and, more frighteningly, the land she was leasing from Miwokan's people.

  "What am I to do, kill them all?" Sutter snapped. As he continued, his voice shifted eerily from loud to soft and back again in midsentence. "There are too many. Too many men, too many places along the river and its tributaries." He sighed and ran both his hands back along the sides of his head. "Too many… other things… to think… about… as well." Silent once again, he drifted into his own thoughts.

  Vallejo looked at Esther and shook his head sadly. "I'm sure the two of you have things to discuss privately. I will go down to the riverbank to find myself a souvenir." He stood up. "If you will excuse me for a short while, señora."

  Esther waited until Vallejo was out of earshot and then turned to Sutter. He was totally preoccupied now, more dejected than a man of his means had a right to be simply over poor prospecting luck.

  "You have so much on your mind," Esther said, bringing him out of his musing. "Perhaps it is the wrong time…"

  "No, no," Sutter protested, a little unconvincingly. He managed a smile and took her hand. For a few moments he seemed almost himself again. "What a beauty you are. And so considerate. No, I have always the time for you. What is it?"

  "I wish to go into business."

  "Good. Good." His eyes were off her again, drifting, starting to go slightly blank. He caught himself and brought his attention back to her. "But you are… already in business. The mining business. And doing well, I hope?"

  She was uncomfortable about how much better her yield had been than his. "Quite well," she finally said, adding quickly, "I'm sure your luck will change for the better here."

  He shrugged. "It… doesn't matter anymore… It is too late, anyway."

  "What do you mean?"

  He waved a hand. "Nothing, nothing," he whispered, realizing he had hinted at more than he intended. "Go on. What sort of business besides mining have you in mind?"

  "A wholesale business in general supplies for the miners—or settlers, should the mining not
last. Hard goods. Pans, hammers, nails, picks, shovels. Other tools. Cooking utensils. That sort of thing."

  "I do not see how you can fail at such a venture in these parts."

  "I was hoping you would become my partner, invest with me, sell the goods I will be arranging to purchase in San Francisco—"

  "Out of the question!" Sutter barked. He had never spoken to her in such a tone. "I have no time! I have too much to deal with now! My hands are too full to take on even a dollar's worth of additional responsibility! Look at this mill. Idle. The flour mill, unfinished… I do not wish to speak of it, do you hear?"

  She was crestfallen, and he saw it. Contrite, he put an arm over her shoulder. "Forgive me, my beautiful friend. If I could only tell you." He sighed. "I have come to the end of my…" He stopped and stared off into the distance. "When I first came here… the dreams I had… But this is not your concern. Go to the fort, make your arrangements with someone else, and I will provide you with all the storage space I can find. I will have to charge you rent, but it will be reasonable."

  "I have heard of a man named Brannan…"

  "Yes, he might be willing to join forces with you."

  "Do you know him?"

  "He is a Mormon. A hard bargainer, but Mormons keep to their word once they have given it. Usually."

  "Will Brannan keep to his word? Can he be trusted?"

  Sutter frowned. "He is a Mormon. That is all I can say for him."

  "In Yerba—San Francisco, I wish to arrange with the man you have spoken of—Mr. Kelsey—at Blue Star. To have the goods shipped from the East."

  "Say no more," Sutter said. "It is done. Before you leave, I will give you a letter of introduction. He is an old friend. A good man, and i would trust him with my life."

  "Will you tell me what it is that troubles you so much? Beyond the difficulties here?"

  "You will understand everything soon enough. Forgive me, but I do not wish to speak of it to anyone. Not even you."

  On the ride to the fort, Esther passed dozens of prospectors walking and riding toward Coloma, her thoughts alternating between the purpose of her journey and the possible sources of Sutter's appalling state of mind. But her thoughts were abruptly swept away by what she saw as she approached New Helvetia late the following afternoon.