Hugo’s eyes bored into him, and Will could easily see that he could be as cold and cruel as the worst outlaw. The fact that he had killed those three bandits in cold blood told him that. “Then we understand each other, senor,” Hugo answered. He grinned. “I hope you are better soon. When you are ready for your equipment, it will be waiting for you in my warehouse.”
Will caught the meaning in the words. The man could lock up his equipment and keep him from getting his hands on it if Will displeased him. Hugo obviously enjoyed having that kind of power, and Will decided he’d better get started as quickly as possible and get his things out of Bolivar’s warehouse in San Francisco. “I’d like to settle what you owe me for my lumber and syrup before you leave again,” he told Hugo.
“Certainly.”
Their eyes held a moment longer, two men who were willing to do business together, in spite of a growing dislike for each other. Will reminded himself how dangerous Hugo Bolivar could be, and he forced himself to be polite. Still, he knew that if he got more chances to talk alone with Santana, he would take them, if for nothing more than to try to talk her out of her impending disastrous marriage. First, though, he had to get things settled and signed with Dominic Alcala, and get his equipment out of San Francisco.
“You can come out now,” he said softly when Hugo was gone.
The doors to the wardrobe opened slowly, and Santana peeked out. She covered her mouth and laughed. “Thank you for not telling,” she said. “If not for worrying that Hugo would banish you and never allow you to rent my father’s land, I would have come out of hiding when he was so proudly telling you you must never speak to me alone. I would have loved to have seen the look on his face!” Her eyes danced with excitement and impishness. “When you are better, I will see you when you dine with us.” She hurried to the door and looked out, then turned to smile at him once more. “And it was a very heroic thing that you did,” she added before slipping out of the room.
Seven
Will watched Dominic Alcala as the man rode ahead of him, sitting straight and proud on a magnificent Palomino gelding. Will himself had been given a Palomino mare to ride, as he and Noel followed Dominic and his son, Hernando, into the forests on the northern end of La Estancia de Alcala.
This was the day Will had been waiting for, the day he would finally get to see the big trees everyone kept telling him about. It was obvious Dominic was eager to show him his trees. The man was quite friendly and affable, and he loved bragging about his land. In the two weeks he had been at La Estancia de Alcala, Will had come to understand the pride of these Californios, their lovely culture and quiet dignity. He’d learned that Dominic’s family had been in California for two generations, having fled a revolution in Mexico. California was home for them, a place they considered their own; and it had been hard for them to accept the rush of Americans that had flooded their land when gold was found. Now they were a part of the United States. It had all happened so fast that men like Dominic still had trouble realizing that this land was no longer an extension of Mexico, owned and controlled by Spaniards.
On La Estancia de Alcala and the few other Spanish-owned tracts of land that were left, they could maintain their culture, their own private worlds, where nothing had changed. There was nothing American about anything on Dominic’s ranch. To stay there was like living in old Spain or in Mexico. At least, that was how it seemed to Will. He had never been to either place, but he figured staying with the Alcalas was probably as close as a man could come. Everyone dressed in the bright colors and unique styles that Spaniards wore. The food they served was completely different from what he was used to, and in fact, Dominic had asked his cook to make special dishes just for Will, who was not accustomed to nor ready for the hot, spicy dishes the rest of the family ate. For now Will was satisfied with corn bread and potato or rice pancakes, and Hester had a wonderful way of making eggs. He also had come to love a dessert called almendrado, almond pudding.
He was fast becoming accustomed to the gentle culture of the Californios, their relaxed pace of living, their generous and gracious nature…their beautiful women. He had not had the opportunity to talk alone again with Santana, but he was able to enjoy her company at meals. There he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her every graceful move, listening to her lilting voice and enjoying the lovely Spanish accent. She often spoke only in Spanish with her family, and they were all helping him master the language himself, laughing with him when he made mistakes. Hernando had a beautiful wife and children, who often joined Dominic and Santana for meals. There was much love among them, and he knew that Santana herself had much love to give. He still could not help thinking what a waste it would be for such a gentle young woman to marry a man like Hugo Bolivar. Hugo had left for San Francisco again, and Will was glad he was gone.
The more he became used to this beautiful land, and the more fascinated he became with Santana, the less he missed Maine. Now he could hardly wait for Gerald to come and see the place for himself.
Will and Noel followed Dominic and Hernando into a magnificent forest full of wondrously huge, tall trees. Noel told Will they were mostly Ponderosa pine and western red cedar. As he listened to the man, Will was again grateful he’d met up with Noel.
Noel had taken the past two weeks while Will healed to go get his family, whom Dominic had permitted to live in a small cabin on his ranch until Will could decide where he would build his sawmill. Noel would then move his family to that location and help run the mill. Noel’s wife, Bernice, was stoutly built, a woman strong in body and in spirit. She was quite pretty in the face, but was not a woman to care about being fancy. She wore her ash-blond hair pulled into a tight bun, and her clothes were plain and practical. She was stern with her two sons, nine and six years old, and the boys were mannerly and obedient.
“You have a fine family, Noel,” Will told him. “You sure your wife won’t mind living out at the mill, so far from other women’s company?”
“Bernice is used to it. We lived the same way back east. Fact is, we could use the extra money if you let her do the cooking for your crew. She’s done it before. She’s a good cook.”
Will nodded. “I’ll sure need one if she wants to do it.”
“The boys will help her. Eventually, when they get big enough, I’ll have them work at the mill and learn to cut trees.”
Will thanked God he’d found someone who could be so much help. He just hoped Derek was still in San Francisco rounding up more men.
“It is about another mile before we reach the redwoods,” Hernando called back to them. “The big ones are close to the coast.”
“Big ones?” Will looked at Noel. “It’s hard to believe there really are trees bigger than what we’re looking at right now.”
Noel laughed. “You’ll see. Like I told you, out here teamwork is very important. No one man cuts down a tree. Fallers always work in pairs. Some of the trees are so big that when they come down, you’ll think there’s been an earthquake. And you have to prepare a bed of boughs along the area where the tree is going to fall. Redwood is brittle. If it’s not handled right, some of the trunk can break into hundreds of useless splinters.
“Once it’s down, it’s too big around to saw through without wasting a lot of time,” Noel continued. “You plant dynamite into the trunk, but you have to be very careful to set it right. Then you blow the length of the trunk in half. That’s the only way to get it small enough that two men can saw through it and prepare the logs for the mill. Once in a while the dynamite shatters the trunk and the wood is all wasted, but there’s no other way.”
Will just shook his head, realizing he had gotten himself into quite a venture. It was strange to have been in this business all his life, yet suddenly feel as though he didn’t know anything at all. He would have to learn an entirely new way of logging, but he was determined to make it work. After several more minutes of riding he noticed the trees were changing, fatter trunks, taller. To look up was to feel as
though he were in some sacred place, where God surely dwelled when he was resting.
“We’re getting into the redwoods now,” Noel told him.
“I will show you our biggest tree,” Dominic called back. They followed the man for perhaps another half-mile, and Will could barely guide his horse for wanting to look up rather than ahead. It was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, trunks so huge as to defy any man to try to cut through them.
“My God, they’re magnificent,” he said, speaking quietly, reverently.
“What did I tell you?” Noel replied with a grin.
Will watched Dominic dismount near a tree that dwarfed him. He halted his own horse and climbed down, for the moment forgetting the presence of the others. He was overwhelmed by the immensity of the trees around him, some with diameters he guessed to be between twenty and thirty feet, and standing so high he could not make out the tops of them. He walked up to one and touched it almost lovingly.
“It seems a shame even to cut them down,” he said, noticing his voice sounded as though he were in a closed room.
“Are they not magnificent?” Dominic asked. He walked over to Will, Hernando at his side. “These are the coastal redwoods, arbol magnifico! The trunks are even bigger on the Sierra redwoods west of here. We will spend the rest of the day and tomorrow riding the boundaries of La Estancia de Alcala so that you know where you can and cannot cut. We will have to camp in the forest tonight. It is too long a ride to do it all in one day. So, what do you think, mi amigo?”
Will was still touching the tree, staring upward, slowly walking the tree’s circumference. He turned and looked at Dominic. “I think they truly are magnifico,” he answered. “I feel as though I am in God’s house, and these trees are the great pillars of that house.” He stepped away, taking inventory of the trees around him. “This is truly a gold mine, Dominic. A greater wealth lies here on top of the ground than in California’s mountains.”
Dominic smiled proudly, as did Hernando. “I would like to learn how to cut these trees myself,” Hernando said. “My father will be too busy with taking care of the ranch to get involved up here. To the west there is a river that can be used to float your logs to the ocean. You will probably want to set up your mill at the mouth of the river. I will oversee our share of this new partnership with you,” he added, smiling.
Will met the man’s eyes. He liked Hernando, who was as handsome as Santana was beautiful. He also trusted Hernando and Dominic much more than he trusted Hugo Bolivar. He did not like the idea that one day Bolivar would have some say in this venture, as Santana’s husband and Dominic’s son-in-law. He had already perceived that Hugo had a great deal of influence on Dominic and even seemed to intimidate the man. How overbearing would he be once he was Santana’s husband, how difficult would he be to deal with? Will suspected there would be trouble down the road, with Hugo demanding a greater and greater share of the profits from the logging, while Will and his men did all the hard work. He would have to be sure to draw up a carefully worded contract that would make it indisputable what went to La Estancia de Alcala and what belonged to Lassater Mills.
“I will enjoy working with you, Hernando,” he said. “Looking at all of this, I am honored to be allowed to lumber out this land. I’ll be careful not to completely strip the hills.”
“That is very important,” Dominic said. “It is dry here, but when the rains do come, they are often heavy. Without the trees, they wash away the hills and create mud slides and flooding.”
Will breathed deeply of the sweet smell of pine and rich redwood. He was so excited he felt like jumping up and down and laughing. He could hardly wait to write home about this, to tell Gerald that the stories they had heard about these trees were not exaggerations at all. He turned to Noel. “Show me how you climb one of these, and where you usually start cutting.”
Noel, grinning with delight himself, walked back to his horse to retrieve a double-edged hatchet and two boards about five feet long and eight inches wide. “Here is something you will have to learn, my friend,” he said to Will. He walked up to one of the massive trunks and chopped a wedge into it, then rammed one of the boards into the wedge. “This is a springboard. We use them like steps to get to the height we need.”
He picked up the second board and with one arm hoisted himself gingerly onto the first one. While he used the first board to stand on, he cut a notch above it, and shoved the second board into it. Securing the hatchet in a loop on his belt, he grabbed the second board with one arm, then reached down to yank out the first board. He climbed onto the second, cut a third notch, and kept working his way up until he was five notches up the tree, about twenty feet.
Will, Dominic, and Hernando watched in awe. “My God,” Will muttered. There was so much to learn, so many preparations to make before he could even begin building his mill.
“Normally there would be another man coming up with me, facing me,” Noel called down. “Up here we would begin the undercut with our hatchets. It would probably take a couple of days with two men chopping all day to get the proper undercut on this one. While we’re doing that, other men would be preparing a bed of boughs where we expect the tree to fall. We would chop the undercut at a forty-five-degree angle about one-third of the way through the trunk, then move to the other side and make a flat cut just deep enough so that the tree no longer has any support.
“If we do our job right, the tree will fall toward the first undercut without twisting and breaking up, or snapping up and killing a man by coming back on him. As soon as she starts to go, the fallers literally have to jump for their lives. We either hurry down the springboards we’ve left in the trunk, or just plain jump to the ground.” Noel grabbed the top board and lowered himself to the next one, then grabbed that one too. He hung there a moment before letting go and tumbling to the ground. He stood up grinning, then walked over to Will. “When do we start?”
Will’s heart pounded with excitement. “As soon as I get my equipment up here from San Francisco, and the rest of my supplies arrive. We’ll leave for San Francisco in a couple of days, see if Derek has hired any men.” He put out his hand to Noel. “I’m glad I found you.” They shook hands vigorously, then Will turned to Dominic, putting out his hand again. “And I am also glad that Hugo brought me here to meet you. I would like to sign a contract as soon as possible, Dominic.”
Dominic shook his hand. “There are not many Americans that I trust, but I feel I can trust you, Will, and I owe you this chance, after what you did for my Santana.”
Will felt his blood rush at the mere mention of her name. He had not given up the idea of trying to talk Dominic into not allowing Santana to marry Hugo. First, though, he had to secure this contract and get to know them all better, learn more about their customs so that he could approach the subject without insulting anyone.
“Gracias, mi amigo,” he said to Dominic. “This land truly is beautiful, and these trees are like nothing I have ever seen. I promise it won’t be long before you are a much richer man from this venture.”
Their eyes met in mutual understanding as they squeezed each other’s hands. “I will show you the rest of my land now,” Dominic said.
Will nodded. “I’d like to see that river Hernando told me about, get an idea how difficult it might be getting the logs to it, and if it’s deep enough to float them. As soon as we get back from exploring your boundaries, I’ll leave for San Francisco.”
“Are you sure you are well enough, my friend?” Hernando asked.
“I’m too excited to care,” Will said. “But yes, I’m well enough.”
They all remounted their horses, and Will looked upward once more before following Dominic and Hernando. The forest became so thick that it was difficult to ride through the trees, and so dark from the cover above that one could hardly tell the sun was shining. Will guessed that these forests would yield three to five times more timber than the forests back East. Everything he had read and heard about this land told him there
were hundreds of thousands of square miles of this kind of forest in the Northwest…an endless supply…and an endless fortune for the men who knew how to timber out the woodlands. He was as elated as if he had struck gold, and he knew that he was here to stay. Home was now California.
Will could not resist one more ride into the thick forest before leaving for San Francisco. After he, Dominic, Hernando, and Noel had returned to the ranch, Will had gone back into the forest near the house. He had spent two nights listening to the nocturnal sounds, wondering if a bear or a bobcat or wolves would decide to make a meal of him. Staying alone among the magnificent conifers, listening to the whirring sound of the wind humming through pine needles, to the constant cry of wolves or the roar of a bobcat, had done something to him. He could not quite name this feeling he had, but it was close to reverence. If a man wanted to feel close to God, Will decided, all he had to do was spend a night or two among the monarchs of California’s wooded hills. For him it was heaven.
As the sun dropped low on the horizon, he headed back toward the main house. Everything was packed for his trip to San Francisco, and Noel would go along to help him find more men. He was so preoccupied with thoughts of everything he had to do that he did not notice a horse to the rear and right of him as he came over the crest of a hill.
“Senor Lassater!” a woman called.
Will turned to see Santana standing under a lone lodgepole pine, holding the reins of her horse. The tree was surrounded by woods, yet there was a clearing around the knoll on which it stood. Will looked around to see if anyone else was about, then turned his horse and rode toward Santana. “Senorita Lopez, what are you doing here alone?”
The Forever Tree Page 9
