by Caryl McAdoo
Even though more than half of the boats littering the harbor were ghost ships, abandoned in the rush to find the mother lode. The rest remained laden with goods and ahead of the Antelope in their queue system.
What a sight! Over a hundred square-sail-rigged schooners and all sizes of steamers—some with, but most without, sail.
Mary never dreamed so many seagoing vessels existed in the whole world.
Footfalls on his new plank floor brought John Wheeler to attention. The hulk of a man that held his tent flap pulled him to his feet. “Well now, Moses Jones, come down from the mountain have we? Where’s Jethro?”
“Left him working.” The bigger man, one of the few around who looked down on John, shook his head. “Another fire?”
“Yes, sir.” John shrugged. “But thank goodness I had time enough to save most my goods.”
“Aye, the devil’s alive in San Francisco to be sure. I’ve come for my new ten pounder with the second growth hickory handle. Has she come in?”
“Yes, sir, did indeed, and those five rods, just like you ordered.”
“Excellent, and have you found a supplier for blasting powder yet?”
“No, but I hear tell there ain’t much difference between it and plain ol’ gun powder.”
Moses shrugged. “Jethro claims the difference is considerable. Swears we can use less and bust out more rock than with the gun.”
“Anything else? Name it, and if I ain’t got it, I’ll turn heaven and earth to acquire it for you.”
Moses roared. “Ha! How about a wife? You can sure order me one of those, if you know where to get ’em. And I ain’t picky either.”
John shared a boisterous laugh with one of his favorite miners. “No, sorry to say I do not. Palace got in a new bunch of sporting ladies, leastwise that’s what I been told.”
The bighearted giant closed his eyes and shook his head. “Bless those girls’ hearts.” He looked up. “What do I owe you, my friend?”
John brought out his balance scales, pencil, and paper. “Well, let’s see now.”
Once his customer agreed with the final number, Moses weighed out the dust, then returned his poke to his trousers’ pocket.
“Finding a lot of color up there?”
“Some, but it’s been a slow go to be sure. We’ve decided to add extra timber and…” He shrugged. “We sure could use another strong back, you interested? And don’t be worrying none, a weak mind is acceptable.”
John chuckled. “No, thank you though. Placer mining would be bad enough, but hard rock? I prefer ordering and keeping my shelves stocked to breaking my back. Thank you, but no.”
“Jethro swears that’s where we’re going to find the mother lode. The dribs and drabs them boys are picking up in the streams is only the crumbs.”
“We’ll see. So far, the crumbs been coming in mighty tasty.” John smiled, didn’t matter where the gold came from long as he got his part.
A squeal lifted him off his feet. He dropped his pencil and ran to the front of the store. “Lanelle! And Caleb. And tell me quick if you know who this beautiful young lady might be. I know she didn’t come in with you scoundrels.”
Moses stayed long enough to meet John’s baby sister, his cousin, and the man’s new wife. She definitely was a beauty. He tucked his new sledge and rods in the back of his wagon and headed down the street.
Gunpowder would have to do. Three twenty-pound kegs should be enough to keep him this trip.
Took about all the dust he had on him. Wouldn’t do to go flashing any of the nuggets; that surely would bring too many questions.
Once he had the kegs wrapped in oiled skins and inside their straw-lined travel box, he headed north. After ten miles or so, he doubled back three to the trail that led to the pass.
If his partner knew what he was talking about, and so far their claim had surely yielded considerably more than wages, they needed to keep their powder dry in more ways than one.
Way before sunset he stopped, grained, brushed, then hobbled the mules. He built a big fire and laid in enough deadfall to last the night. Almost ready to settle for the day, he grabbed a piece of jerky then eased off fifty steps or so.
Finding a nice straight spruce, he shinnied up. From there, he kept a hawk eye out until the last bit of light then slipped back to the edge of his camp, but stayed in the shadows. He waited in the stillness, enjoying the forest coming to life.
An owl hooted, then frogs croaked out their songs; crickets and katydids added to the symphonic chorus, along with at least a dozen more sounds he could pick out but not identify.
God’s praise filled the night. From his heart, he burst out singing one of the few tunes he could get right and joined in with the rest of the Almighty’s creatures.
“Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and all there is inside me, bless His Holy Name.”
As the fire burned down, he continued singing and quoting scripture in his head.
Then a sweet peace settled over his heart, and he scooted closer, put some more wood on the fire, and wrapped himself in his wool blanket.
Watch over me, Lord. And save Jethro.
Then like always, he drifted off in a handful of heartbeats.
Next morning before the sun climbed very high at all, he caught sight of his partner as he pushed the handcart out of the mine. Jethro spotted him, waved, then trotted down to the cabin. “Any trouble? Anyone follow you?”
Moses set the wagon’s brake and jumped down. “Nope, nary a soul. Still no blasting powder. We’ll have to make do with the gun. Got us three kegs.”
“Glad you didn’t blow yourself to kingdom come on the way back. The sledge and rods come in?”
“Aye, they did.” He nodded. “You cook anything?”
His partner grinned. “Your favorite, but…”
“What?”
“Well, I didn’t know for sure you’d show this morning. I ate it all.”
“You’re a poor liar, Jethro Risen. You would not eat it all.” Moses knew better, at least he hoped he did. “Look here into my eyes and tell me true. Is there something to eat? Or am I going to have to –” He balled his fist and stepped toward the younger man.
Backing a step, his friend held his hands out. “Easy, big boy, I’m only teasing, pulling that giant leg of yours. I’ve got beans and cornbread.”
“And…”
“Rabbit stew.”
Moses sniffed, all he could smell was chimney smoke. “You shot a rabbit?”
“Snared him. Idea come to me yesterday while I was cutting timber. Now that you and the mules are back, we need to skid us some logs. Anyway, I worked out the design in my head, drew it up, then success.”
“Rabbit stew, you say?”
He nodded toward the cabin. “Right tasty, if I say so myself.”
Delicious, and plenty of it. Living the good life. If only his friend would accept God’s free gift of salvation and believe—and if Moses found himself a Godly wife—then everything would be about perfect.
The Lord had already promised to make him rich.
Finally, the trade goods made it off the Antelope. Mary hated it that John’s store had burned, but maybe that was good, too. He had the money to buy the burned-out lots on both sides, but in her opinion, spent too much dust doing it.
She didn’t say so though. Like her daddy, she didn’t go looking to take advantage, but if it came knocking, who was she to turn it down?
Caleb looked from John to her. “What do you think, sweetheart? Will Levi send you some cash?”
“Maybe, if I was to ask, but we did run off, and that would take two months at best. I say that we keep this between us.”
Lanelle frowned, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest.
“How so, Mary? We’re four hundred short for building what you want, and that’s with us doing all the work. How about we forget the second story; we can all sleep in the store room until we have more cash.”
“No, we need private ro
oms.” She smiled. “Partners all the way around, goods, land, building, the works. Fifty-fifty on everything?”
John shook his head. “You’re wanting too much, girl.”
“This afternoon alone, we sold five of the shovels we brought and two picks. The goods left are picked over. Now I’m willing to put in more money right now, tonight.”
“You thinking of writing home?”
“Just listen. Can we all agree that the receipts are seed money and that goes back into the store? The Antelope sails in another five days, and we need to have as much cash as possible leaving with it.”
Lanelle unfolded her arms. “Mary girl, pray tell how are we going to live if every dime that comes in gets spent on goods?”
The time had arrived. She loved it.
She turned away from John and pulled up her dress far enough to roll down her stockings and retrieve the green backs. She turned back around and put the money on the table.
“There’s five hundred and six dollars there. We spend four hundred of it on lumber; leaves a hundred and six for food.”
“Where’d you get that?”
With only a glance toward her husband as his answer for the time being, she never missed a beat.
“Since the whiskey is not going to be replaced….” She waited for Caleb’s nod, then back to John for agreement. “We can use that money for whatever we need for the store and our living expenses—less the cost of the bottles.”
Her new cousin rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I’ve worked hard for what I’ve got.”
“Oh, and one other thing, the store’s name.”
“What’s wrong with The Wheeler Dealer?” John looked like someone had stepped on his pride.
“Nothing, but Wheeler and Wheeler Mercantile has a much better ring to it. Classy and dignified.”
The store’s name got batted about, but in the end, John agreed to everything. Figured out that half of a thriving business brought in way more profit than one limping along.
Caleb put his hand on her forearm. “Why do we need bottles? We’re doing great selling the whiskey by the shot.”
“True, but we don’t want a bunch of rowdies swilling home brew here, plus, selling it by the pint, we can get more. Might even order some metal flasks like Daddy has. Remember, we saw some in New Orleans. How many shots in a pint?”
“I don’t know, maybe sixteen.”
“There you go. We sell our Texas Gold for twenty dollars a pint, more if the traffic will bear it. If it’s going fast at that price, we’ll double it. On the afterthought, let’s start with thirty then we can always come down.”
Caleb beamed. “I love you, Mary Wheeler.”
“I love you, too, dear husband.” Mary leaned in and gave him a sloppy kiss.
Lanelle waved both hands. “Oh please. Stop it! You two are making me sick.”
Mary laughed. What a tease. Poor girl, so far from home and hearth and nothing but a passel of love-sick miners to choose from. They’d have to find a church. That’d be the best place for her to meet a good man. She had to be lonely.
Later that night while she cuddled with Caleb on their pallet next to the Oliver plow and other farm implements John had brought all the way from Texas, she put her mouth next to her husband’s ear. “I’m late.”
“What?” He whispered back then kissed her neck.
“I’m late, you know, my moon cycle. It’s three weeks past time.”
She could hear his grin. “Oh wife, that’s wonderful.” He kissed her again. “So what does that mean?”
“A baby, silly.”
“No, I meant… You know, us. Do we have to wait now until he comes?”
She scooted up on his chest. “I don’t think so, maybe later, but not now.”
“John said there’s a doctor up on Nob Hill.”
“No, I’ll find a mid-wife. Men don’t know anything about birthing babies.” She kissed his neck. “What makes you think it’s a boy?”
“I don’t know.”
A son. Why had he thought that? Caleb knew one thing for sure. Lanelle would not be happy, but somehow he’d make it up to her. He smiled in the dark until his face hurt. A baby boy. He’d always wanted a son.
Chapter Four
“John! Come on andget yourself down here. It’s getting late.”
He looked under his arm. Lanelle stood at the bottom of his ladder holding her empty market basket. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Get Mary to go with you.”
“She’s working with a customer. Best come on if you want any supper.”
He glared. “Take Caleb.”
She grinned then walked back toward the front of the store. John picked up a shingle and went back to work. What could happen? Wasn’t like there was a hayloft between here and the market.
Half an hour later, knees sore and out of shingles, he eased his way down. A glance at the sun surprised him, didn’t seem that late. Why was that sister of his in such a big hurry?
And where were the two of them? Should have been back by now.
Instead of cutting more cedar shakes, he strolled into the store. He loved what Mary had done with the Mercantile. Everything in its place, her books neat and updated at the end of every day.
A true marvel, and as beautiful as she was smart. Best thing he ever did, partnering with Rebecca’s little sis.
If only it would have worked out with Mary’s older sister, he’d still be in Texas helping her daddy with his empire. Shocked the fool out of him when little Miss Buckmeyer walked into his store all grown up and on Caleb’s arm.
About floored him when his idiot cousin introduced her as his wife. She sure was a beauty.
“Hey, John, there you are. How’s the roof coming?”
“Finished the second section. We can put that tarp back into inventory.”
“Good, excellent, sold your plow just now.”
“Really? To a farmer, or has some miner figured out a new way to do things?”
“No, an honest-to-God sodbuster came in. He’s homesteading north of here, brought his wife and boys.”
John rubbed his hands together. “That is excellent news. You tell him we’d be interested in buying anything he grew?”
“Yes, sir, sure did.”
So much like her sister, maybe not as pretty, but who was? He looked around. “Where all was Lanelle going?”
“Didn’t she tell you? Said she’d been hankering fish, so I suppose she intended on going by the wharf.”
“Oh, no wonder it’s taking so long. That’s a pretty far piece afoot.”
“That’s what she said, and from there she wanted to stop in Chinatown, too. Someone told her about some spice that’s supposedly ace high, then from there she planned on stopping at the market for whatever else she needed.”
She attended to straightening the shelves, refolding and setting it all in order. Kept a fine establishment; never looked so great under his care.
Didn’t like it one bit, those two being gone so long, though Mary seemed fine with it. Just like his baby sister to wait until he was on the roof. It all fell into place. A talk with Caleb was in order. If they ruined things, he’d kill them both. “Sounds like a lot of work just for supper.”
“She said she didn’t mind. Her mentioning fish set my mouth to watering. It was my idea. Caleb didn’t want to go, but we made him. Walking to the market is bad enough, but all the way to the wharf and Chinatown? No way would I let her go by herself.”
So young and so naïve in many ways, yet such a lady of business. So different from his Rebecca, except she wasn’t his, she’d turned him down flat after only two weeks. John made himself look away. Mary was a married woman. And to his idiot cousin, no less. He hoped she’d never discover the truth about his sister and her husband.
“Best, I guess.” He looked back, but couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he focused on her hair. “I’ll get back to the roof unless there’s something you need me to do.”
“No, I’m fine. Can y
ou manage that next tarp by yourself or could you use some help?”
“Oh, I’m out of shingles, so figured to work on cutting more. By the time I’m ready, Caleb and Lanelle will be back, and he can help me.”
Lanelle slipped his last button in its hole. “There you go, good as new.”
“I don’t know about that. But you, my love, are as good as ever.”
Smiling, filled with his love, she took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. Now or never. The Antelope sailed in two days. “Caleb, I’m pregnant.”
“What? When?” He looked away then back. “I thought you said you’d never let that happen.” His tone carried shards of disgust.
She hated his reaction, hated him for not being happy. “What? You think I did it on purpose? It happened! Now you’ve got to send the princess back to her daddy. We can have a new start here or go on up to Oregon where no one needs to know we’re kin.”
“How far along are you?”
“Two and half months. Must have happened that time at your place back home.” She looked away. He didn’t have to know she’d missed her first cycle. Just like his sweet Mary baby girl didn’t have to know she was never seasick.
“We can’t, Nellie. This is going to ruin everything.”
“No, it isn’t. Not at all, Caleb. You’ve always wanted a son, and well, I am the one you love more than anything in the world. That’s what you said. So…” She rubbed her belly. “Here he is. And best yet, he’s all Wheeler. Ain’t no Buckmeyer blood in him. I thought we could name him after Pappy.”
“Come on, we’ve got to go. I’ve got to think this through.”
She grabbed his arm and spun him around. “There’s nothing to think about, Caleb Wheeler. We’ve got to get married, period.”
Moses dropped his fork in his empty plate, plum sick of beans. Even with the few rabbits Jethro snared, he hankered hard for a real meal. Steak with a heaping pile of mashed potatoes covered in cream gravy and a chunk of light bread, and oh Lord, a tall glass of ice cold milk, maybe two.
