California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1)

by Daniel Knapp

  "Are you certain I would make a profit from the investment?"

  Kelsey sat down and thought for a moment. "All I can tell yah is that if I had the money, I'd do the same thing myself."

  "Then I am certain. Do you deal with a bank?"

  Kelsey nodded, trying to keep up with her.

  "I will be shipping pouches and larger bags directly to you. At the moment there is perhaps ten or eleven times this amount accumulated. As it is delivered to you, keep a third and use it. The rest, put in the bank under my name. E. Cable."

  Kelsey simply stared at her, his mouth agape.

  "I will expect a strict accounting of every ounce you receive."

  "Of course."

  "Now, will you help me to come to some fair arrangement about what I shall receive in return for the investment?"

  Kelsey reached for a pad and pencil and started to devise something. He looked up at her again for a moment, shook his head, then crossed out his initial set of figures. "Fairest is simplest," he said. "You own one-third of the firm. We'll have papers drawn up. You receive… we'll bank in your name one-third of the profits. Once we're under way, writing in blue ink, whatever amount you've invested that exceeds one-third of Blue Star's capitalization and assets—why, we'll pay back to yah fifty cents on the dollah out of our two-thirds of the profits."

  "It all sounds perfectly fair to me. As little as I know of such things."

  "Yah have the instincts. That's all yah need. If you're dealin' with honest men."

  "Your partner will not object?"

  "Warren? He'll probably jump into the cove with his clothes on out of sheer joy."

  "There is just one condition."

  "Yes?" Kelsey felt his stomach begin to tighten.

  "That you invite me to your home for dinner tonight. It has been so long since I have eaten at a proper dining table." She smiled. "And I would like to meet the wife of… such an open-minded man."

  Thirty-three

  The following morning Esther rode the raft ferry across the strait and bought a horse on the north shore. Riding northeast toward Sonoma, she found Sausalito practically deserted. Passing empty farmhouses, she saw fields untended, horses and cattle wandering and trampling crops. If all these people had left for the gold fields, she thought, her decision the night before to hew to her original plan of selling supplies through Brannan or someone else seemed wise. However uncomplicated and rewarding her primary arrangement with William Kelsey and Warren Barnett turned out to be, it would not hurt to have something else to fall back on.

  As she rode on, she smiled, recalling the pleasant evening she had spent with Billy Kelsey and his wife. Simple and down-to-earth while revealing hints of refined taste and intelligence, Connie Kelsey was a slender, handsome woman, and far too modest about her considerable talent as an artist. She hoped to have Connie as a friend if she ever lived in San Francisco.

  She was grateful to the Kelseys for never asking why she did not remove her hat and scoop veil during dinner. They had made her feel completely at home. Neither took obvious note of the odd way she held a fork, left palm tilted upward, clenching her fist, concealing her missing fingers from them as she sliced through a piece of roast lamb. Later, in the lobby of the hotel, she had covered another potential embarrassment. As she was saying good-bye to Kelsey, she realized it was not unlikely that he would mention her to Alex Todd—unless she headed him off. Obliquely, but allowing no room for misinterpretation, she made it plain that it would be several years before she would even begin to entertain thoughts of remarriage.

  Three days later, just before noon, Esther crossed a shallow stretch of the South Fork. Riding her own horse and leading by the reins the one she had bought, she worked her way along the bank of a small stream near her cabin. She was astonished, then strangely thrilled to see Murietta lazing against the rail fence surrounding her garden, waiting for her. But then she sensed something was wrong. Miwokan, her pistol slung from his shoulder, stood guard at the shed. His brother, crouched and watching Murietta carefully from a strategic distance, had the Californio's gunbelt lying across his thighs. As Esther reined up and dismounted, she became aware of a party of prospectors in red flannel shirts heading south through the woods beyond the cabin.

  She saw Miwokan frown as Murietta stepped forward and greeted her with an exaggerated, hat-sweeping bow. They were both laughing nervously when Miwokan strode over to them.

  "He came yesterday and helped us. And again this morning, just before you returned."

  "De nada," Murietta said. "It was nothing, señora."

  "But why have you…?"

  "Many redshirts have come," Miwokan said, interrupting her. "Just before sunset one party of six would not leave this place."

  "They were not unreasonable," Murietta said. "They simply needed a firm word about your ownership of this property. They only wanted to know why they had no right to prospect here."

  "He sent another five of them away before you came," Miwokan added.

  Esther glanced at Miwokan's brother, who walked toward them carrying Murietta's weapon. "Is that why you are guarding the shed?" she asked Miwokan. "Is that why your brother has my friend's gun?"

  "I could not be sure of him, any more than of the others," Miwokan replied.

  "But he helped you! And you seem to be treating him like a prisoner."

  Murietta smiled. His tooth had been repaired, crudely, but it looked much better than when she had last seen him. "They only watch over your gold. They meant no insult to me, I am sure."

  "This man is my friend," Esther said. "You knew that."

  "I know that yesterday's friend is sometimes today's enemy when there is gold."

  "I want none of your gold!" Murietta said, anger rising in him involuntarily. He lowered his voice. "Or any other's." He turned to Esther. "I came only to see you again. And to thank you personally."

  Esther fought off an urge to jerk her gunbelt out of Miwokan's hand. She saw that he was plainly embarrassed now. "Please give him back his gun."

  Miwokan beckoned to his brother to hand it to her instead. "Perhaps there were other things in my mind." Miwokan looked at Esther and then away, and she sensed that a touch of jealousy had colored his behavior.

  "It was just a mistake," Esther said, touching Miwokan's arm compassionately.

  He turned to Murietta. "I am sorry," he said, offering his hand. "Will you forgive me?"

  Murietta grinned and clasped Miwokan's forearm. "I would have done the same thing. You were only showing how much you are the señora's friend. Consider it forgotten."

  "Then the matter is settled?" Esther asked. "There will be no hard feelings?"

  "If he is your friend, he is mine," Miwokan said evenly.

  She spent the afternoon with the two of them, quickly dropping her curiosity about where Murietta had been all these months after it became obvious that he was concealing something. Nor did she pursue whatever it was he had not wanted to tell her when he had resorted to speaking only Spanish while recuperating at her cabin. Instead she addressed herself to planning and arranging the first shipment to San Francisco. Murietta, she saw, could help her. He was full of ideas and knew the territory well. She guessed also that he could handle the gun he was wearing again. Beyond that, she found herself attracted to him, no matter how hard she tried to dismiss the feeling. She watched Miwokan carefully and became convinced that Murietta's arrival had stirred his old feelings for her. In time, she thought, Miwokan will see that there is nothing to be jealous about. And, of course, he was right. Although instinct told her Murietta would not steal from anyone, let alone her, she had no reason to be certain.

  As they talked, party after party of prospectors crossed the river, took note of the armed men with Esther, then veered up and downstream or continued on south beyond the clearing. She detected a brief hardening in Miwokan's expression when she persuaded Murietta to stay and work the claim with them. It passed when Murietta refused to be paid any more than Miwokan
was receiving. They worked out a plan for the shipment. Miwokan's brother would take a band of men and, avoiding all mining camps, travel by way of Sutter's Fort and the north shore of the bay to Blue Star.

  Later, when Miwokan's men had quit work and started back for their village, she took the chief aside, then walked slowly with him to the river.

  "You did the right thing," she said. "I am grateful to you. It was an awkward situation for me, that is why…"

  "I understand that it was difficult," he said. "It was like being a peacemaker between two tribes you do not want to make war."

  "Exactly."

  "And also you feel deep things for this man."

  "That is not true. He is simply my friend."

  "You do not have love for him?" Miwokan asked, measuring his voice.

  "I feel for him as I feel for you. As a sister." She saw Miwokan look at her quickly, then away. "Of course," she added hastily, "I do not know him as well as you. He has not done the things for me that you have. He is not my sunbrother."

  Miwokan nodded, reassured. "Do you trust him?"

  "You have left one of your men to guard the shed."

  "But do you trust him?"

  "I think so. But I will test him. I will give him two thousand dollars in gold to take to Kelsey tomorrow. And a small amount more—to purchase weapons. At the fort. If he can buy them there, I will have him leave them at Brannan's store, in a package, for your brother to pick up. If he cannot, I will have him secure them in San Francisco, double back along the trail your brother and the men will follow, then accompany them in case they need him."

  "That is what you will tell him. But more of it will be to see if he runs with the gold?"

  "Yes. It is not much compared to what is in the shed."

  "That is wise, Sunsister. You are very wise for one with so few winters." Miwokan looked off, thinking. "You will watch him until he is asleep in the cabin tonight?" he asked almost casually.

  Esther smiled. She had been right. He was jealous. "He will not sleep in the cabin again. Tonight or any other night."

  For a moment, as he studied her face, the beginnings of a smile turned the corners of his mouth upward. It passed, and she heard him control the sound of a sigh. "Do all white women understand as much as you do? Are they all so wise?"

  She touched his cheek with the back of her hand, then drew it back. "Wiser," she said. "Much wiser."

  Late that summer, gold was discovered in several creeks to the south of the cabin. Within a week hordes of men moved into the area. Not a day passed without news of a strike. Enthused as well as slightly alarmed by the number of miners passing her place in September, Esther journeyed to Sutter's Fort to check on the possible arrival of goods from Blue Star.

  A small quantity had been delivered, and Brannan beamed as he paid Esther off. "Got twice the price you paid for them," he said, handing her an accounting he had drawn up. "Don't see any need to keep the pouch you gave me," he added, fishing it out of a drawer and putting it on the counter beside Esther's half of the profits. "When do you think your people at Blue Star will be sending more goods?"

  "I don't know," Esther said, studying the figures and suddenly aware that they didn't wash. "Soon, I would guess. The more normal things get in San Francisco, the more they'll send."

  "Good. Good. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've business to conclude with this young fellow." He gestured to a table beside which a slender man scarcely in his twenties stood waiting. He was dressed in a suit tailored in an unmistakably European style. "Perhaps you'd like to meet him," Brannan said as an afterthought. "He's Captain Sutter's son, just arrived from Europe."

  After she'd been introduced to August Sutter, she took note of the legal-looking papers and the newly drawn maps that depicted a sizable town between the fort and the embarcadero. Troubled, Esther left Brannan's store and made her way inside the walls of the fort. As she waited while a dealer in picks and pans served a half-dozen customers, she weighed what Brannan had said when he saw her looking at the maps.

  "You're looking at a new city, young lady. A city of the future. One that this young man and his father are going to make possible."

  Considering what she already suspected about Brannan, she did not like the sound of it.

  When the dealer finally got around to her, she pretended she wanted to buy a half-dozen items he was selling, and asked the prices. They were five times the amount she had paid wholesale for similar goods, two and a half times what Brannan said he had sold them for. Brazen, unprincipled devil, Esther thought. He is keeping me happy by splitting a 100 percent profit with me, while keeping an additional 300 percent return—on my investment—for himself.

  "How long have they been selling at such outrageous prices?" she asked, controlling her fury.

  The dealer shrugged. "A month, maybe two. Leastwise since Brannan got his last shipment in. Better buy now. They'll be costin' more next week."

  "Everyone is charging the same prices?"

  "Well, there's only Brannan, and me, and the Jew, Kellerman, who has that shack down by the embarcadero. Me and Brannan, we talk, see. When one of us ups his price, the other follows suit before the sun rises. And the Jew goes along, or else. You know what I mean?"

  "Indeed I do. Thank you very much."

  "Well, you gonna buy or ain'tcha?"

  Esther turned without answering the question. She went straight to the embarcadero, where she found Kellerman, a frail, kindly man in his late fifties, fighting an impossible battle with a broom and a dustpan. Each time he swept up a corner of the open-sided shack, the wind coming off the river undid his labor.

  "You need a proper store, with four walls instead of two," Esther said.

  "Would be nice. But I can't afford it." Kellerman laid the broom aside. "What can I do for such a nice lady?"

  "How would you like to have the money to build a real store?"

  "It'll never happen. There's a nice profit in these goods, but I can't lay my hands on enough of them to make that kind of money."

  "Brannan and the men in the fort seem to be well stocked."

  "They got the suppliers all tied up. They fix it so I get enough to stay open, but no more."

  "You will be receiving as much as you can handle from now on."

  Kellerman scratched his head and smiled. "I wish you were right."

  "I am right. I have been selling goods through Brannan, but I will no longer be associated with him. From now on you will be selling my goods, if you are interested."

  "I'm interested, young lady, I'm interested!"

  "These are the terms. I will pay the wholesale price and arrange delivery. You will sell them at the going rate and share in the profits with me. Forty percent to you, the remainder to me. There will be no storage costs, and you will provide me with an accounting each month."

  "What kind of goods can you ship to me?"

  "Just about everything you carry." She looked around, taking note of several items she would have to add to her next order. She wrote out her address on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

  "Young lady, you got yourself a deal," Kellerman said happily.

  She started to turn, then thought for a moment. "You will need more space, a more secure building, right away."

  "That'll be a problem until—"

  "Here." Esther handed him a pouch filled with gold. "Use this to build a store. Make it big enough for about five times as much inventory. Pay me back with 10 percent of your share of the profits until the debt is liquidated."

  She left Kellerman talking to himself in amazement and headed back to Brannan's. As she walked in, he was sitting behind the ramshackle counter, sipping whiskey and beaming.

  "Well, it's all signed, sealed, and delivered," he said. "Your friend Sutter's son has just arranged with me to sell the lots that will soon be known as Sacramento City."

  She wondered if there was any way she could warn Sutter about Brannan, but it was too complicated to think about now. To control her
rage, to do what she was about to do, she needed to concentrate. She would have to wait until she saw Sutter the next day at his sawmill on the South Fork.

  "Congratulations," she said. "I forgot something. I wanted to pick up a kerosene lamp. Do you have one?"

  "All out."

  Esther glanced over at the barrels of kerosene that lined one wall.

  "Plenty of fuel, as you can see. But I sold my last lamp yesterday." He saw her frown. "But for a business associate," he added, "I suppose I could let go one of mine. Wait here. I'll get one from the back room."

  "Could you sell me a gallon cask of kerosene as well?" she asked when he placed the lamp on the table.

  Brannan went to one of the barrels and drew out what she had requested. He placed it on the counter next to the lamp.

  "Is the lamp full?"

  "To the brim. Here, let me adjust the wick and show you." He ignited a rolled piece of paper and lit the lamp.

  "I am not familiar with that new damping device."

  Brannan turned the flame down, then up full. "Easy," he said. "Better'n the old one."

  "Let me try." She conjured up her best smile, reached for the lamp and as she pulled it back toward her, knocked the cask of kerosene off the counter with her elbow. When it hit the floor, the wooden bung flew out of its hole, the oil poured out and began spreading under the work clothes hanging to her left and toward the kerosene barrels beyond them. "Oh, mercy," she said. "Now look what I've done."

  Brannan came out from behind the counter again and surveyed the spill. "No harm done." He let out a breath of unconcealed exasperation, then forced a smile. "Won't even charge you for it. Hell, once it dries…"

  "Once it dries, there won't be any danger of fire," Esther said, lifting the lamp off the counter and holding it out over the spreading pool of kerosene.

  Brannan's mouth dropped open.

  "Mr. Brannan, you will now pay me the money you owe me."

  "What are you talking about?" Brannan stammered.

  "You know very well what I'm talking about. You have been selling my goods at five—rather than two—times what I paid for them. You owe me an additional 150 percent on my investment."