by Laurence Yep
I muttered something about how many died trying to get here. I felt Uncle’s arms tighten around me and he asked if my crossing had been rough. It was the first time we had ever talked about it.
I thought of the cousins who had not made it to America. So I told him that his must have been rougher.
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.” His arms were still around me as he held the reins. He gave my sides a little squeeze. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
There were a lot of people who would have babbled or shouted about feeling sad. We didn’t do that in our family. We were too busy trying to survive. There wasn’t time for complaining about how miserable we were. So that squeeze from Uncle meant just as much as days of praise from someone else.
Early evening
Uncle took me into town when he returned the horse. I wondered where all the people had come from because they hadn’t been there before. Uncle explained that on Sunday, people come in from the surrounding claims.
And the racket! There seems to be a different dialect for every person. There are all sorts of gambling games going on and the players shout out in victory or in misery. At the same time, there are men Uncle called tooters who are yelling and trying to drag passersby into the games. And there are lots of very “cheerful” men in tents who serve liquor.
From other tents I smelled meat cooking and saw men sitting shoulder by shoulder at crude tables. They were shoveling food into their mouths as fast as they could.
Uncle headed for the drayer’s. It was a tent with a corral next to it. The owner was an American woman! She is the first I have ever seen. I think I stared a little too hard, because Uncle scolded me. The woman is named Mrs. Jones. She said she used to get a lot of stares from everyone. Women are still scarce in the entire province.
I like her. She has a good laugh, and she even gave me a piece of candy.
While Uncle finished his business with her, I went outside.
I felt sad at having to say good-bye to the horse and our afternoon ride. So I’m taking my mind off it by writing down what I’ve seen.
Evening
I had another scare.
On the way back to camp, I heard Hiram shout my name. I didn’t recognize him at first. His old clothes were gone. Now he stood in boots and pants with the straps the Americans call suspenders. On his head was a hat with the brim turned up. There were even wisps on his chin as if he were trying to grow a beard.
I told him that he looked like a real miner. He said that I did, too. I guess I do, now that I’m wearing my new clothes. I introduced him to Uncle. Hiram wanted to talk, but before we could, a man came over angrily. He’s a taller, older version of Hiram so I assume it was his older cousin. On his head was a cylindrical hat.
Hiram never got to introduce us. His cousin spoke too fast to Hiram for me to follow. Uncle, though, began to frown. So whatever the cousin said couldn’t have been good.
I asked Uncle if Hiram was in trouble. Uncle said quietly that no, we were the ones about to have problems.
About thirty other Americans had begun to gather around us. Their faces reminded me of the bullies on the riverboat. And I realized what that face really meant. I’d seen the same expression on the cook’s face when he twisted the chickens’ necks.
I didn’t mean that they were going to serve us for Sunday dinner. We were just animals to them.
All of them were wearing guns and knives, but there was no one to make them mind their manners. Suddenly I felt so alone. I stood as stiff as wood. Uncle grabbed my shoulders and turned me around toward camp. He whispered to me to walk and not show that I was frightened. It would only encourage them to do something.
As I shuffled forward, the jeering started. A lot of the words were words Hiram and Brian had never taught me. The tone, though, is the same one used by bullies everywhere.
Suddenly, a huge bearded giant blocked our way. He smelled bad, too. I tried to go around him, but he flung out an arm as thick as a tree trunk. Then he began yelling at us. I don’t know what he said. All I could see were the rotted teeth in his mouth.
Hiram shouted something. Then he came running. His cousin chased him. The cousin’s face was all red. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once.
The giant swung toward Hiram.
Uncle gave me a push while the giant was distracted. I wanted to stay with Hiram. Uncle kept pushing, though. “Your friend’s all right,” he said.
Hiram was surrounded by the bullies. However, all they seemed to do was scold him. He saw me and waved his hand frantically for us to leave.
Still, I felt like an awful coward when I turned my back on him.
Uncle warned me not to look back to see if they were following us.
All I could do was force my legs to move one step at a time. But my ears strained for footsteps chasing us.
We didn’t stop until we reached the edge of our camp.
When I asked Uncle what that was about, Uncle explained that the American miners blamed us for everything that had gone wrong in their lives — from lower wages to rain and warts. A month before I came, in other districts, the Americans threw the Chinese out. And some of the American miners here wanted to do the same thing.
Uncle says that this is proof that gold is a curse. It twists people’s minds and makes them act like beasts.
I’m beginning to think Uncle is right.
I feel like shivering, but not from the cold.
America is so lovely — and yet so frightening.
July 19
I felt the ride last night. I had to sleep on my stomach. Uncle had an ointment to rub on the sore parts. The soreness didn’t excuse me from working, though.
July 20
I don’t think the wing dam will ever get built. Uncle reminded me, though, that in northern China, Chinese built a wall all along the border. I should have remembered that from school.
The others have begun to call the wing dam the Great Wall.
July 23
Tomorrow is my reward for a week of hard work: another ride.
Uncle has promised me that we will take out the horse again. There are some waterfalls that Uncle wants to show me. With a little luck this time, the horse will cooperate.
July 25
So far no trouble in town this Sunday. I’m writing this while Uncle and I wait for the horse to be saddled.
We got up early and ate a quick meal. Uncle also got the cook to make up a meal to take with us.
I tried to hide my excitement as we reached town. A herd of twelve huge beef cattle were being driven into town for the slaughter. There were the usual Sunday crowds, but I didn’t see Hiram.
Later
We’ve followed the stream to the falls. I could hear them long before I saw them. They cascade from a cliff in a huge tail of white plumes. The mist feels refreshing in the heat.
And Esteban is here! He and three men were on a rock with a basket of food. I guess they were having a picnic, too. When they saw us, Esteban’s friends jumped to their feet and drew their guns.
Somehow Esteban and I managed to get everyone introduced. The three men are his brothers. They have come up for the day from their claim in the next district. They put their guns away with apologetic smiles.
There was so much I wanted to ask him. I’m sure he felt the same way, but neither of us had enough words. I gather, though, that they too had met bullies like the ones we met on the boat and in town. I couldn’t blame them for being fearful of strangers.
It was Uncle’s idea to catch some fish.
I miss the fresh fish that we took from the pond at Tiger Rock. And I am sick of the salted fish we get in camp, so I agreed.
Uncle found some straight branches and stripped them so they were poles. Then he took a ball of string from his pocket. He must have been planning this all along.
I wondered what he was going to do for hooks, but he took out some nails and used a rock to bend them.
If Uncle was not successful at
home, it was because of his bad luck, not because he was stupid.
He hummed happily to himself as he fashioned our fishing poles. Despite the growing dangers we faced working in the mines, I had never seen him so content. With all its risks, America suits an inventive person like him.
When the two poles were ready, he handed one to Esteban and one to me.
In the meantime, Esteban’s brothers had begun to play a game with cards. As they tried to teach the game to Uncle through signs, Esteban and I dug worms out of the soil. Then we walked to where the stream still ran and sat on the bank and cast our lines into the water.
As we sat in the sun by the sparkling water, I forgot for a while about the American tax men and bullies.
Evening
When we got back to town, the casual crowd was gone and the bullies were out.
When we returned the horse, Uncle told me to stick close to him. After last Sunday, I didn’t have to be told twice. As I tried to match his stride, I kept telling myself not to be afraid.
I was sure, though, that I could feel their eyes boring into my back like pick axes. Uncle acted like he was out for a stroll. He’s like a whole different man here. I wish the clan back in China could see how much courage he has. Why hadn’t I realized that before?
I hope America changes me, too. So far, I don’t feel brave at all.
July 26
The bullies have gotten bolder. Today one of the miners went to town for supplies. A half dozen bullies followed him out of the store and shouted insults all the way back to camp. They were like a pack of snarling dogs.
They stopped right on the edge of our camp. Then they saw us coming with axes and they scurried off.
The Fox ordered us all back to work, but he looks worried.
It’s all anyone can talk about. Will we get kicked out like the Chinese in other mining districts?
Even Uncle, who always looks on the sunny side of things, isn’t sure.
July 27
Uncle and a crew are cutting some of the smaller trees that are straight and true. I got to help with one of the two-person saws. It took a little getting used to it. American saws are the reverse of Chinese ones. Their saws cut on the backward or pulling stroke. Our Chinese saws cut on the forward or pushing stroke.
As soon as he had the first log, Uncle began to split it with wedges to make it into planks and smooth them with a plane.
July 28
In China, water chains carry water from the stream to the nearby fields and irrigation ditches. They are wooden troughs with a chain of wooden paddles. No one else but Uncle knows how to build a water chain. Now I understand why he was hired at such a high rate.
Uncle and I have begun to construct water chains. He has only American tools, but once he got used to them, he seemed to forget about all our troubles. In between saw strokes, I could hear him humming. I found myself cheering up, too.
July 29
This afternoon one of the miners came back from town with a big lump on his head. The bullies had thrown stones at him.
As the Fox examined the lump on the victim’s head, he said that this was a sign.
I couldn’t see what of. At home, a sign would be like a certain star rising between the dragon’s horns, which means it’s time to start planting.
So I asked the Fox what he meant.
The Fox said just one word. “Change.”
I thought the Fox meant he could read Wind and Water. In China, there were experts who read the signs in nature. They could help make you rich and keep you healthy.
However, the Fox said that what he read was Americans. We have to be very careful from now on.
As if I need that warning.
July 30
Late this morning the Fox called everyone over. He had a letter to mail. Someone had to take it into town.
In the pre-bully days, everyone would have wanted the job as a break from work. Now no one did.
The Fox must have been expecting us to hold back because he already had straws in his back pocket. He told us that the one who drew the shortest would go.
He didn’t want Uncle and me to take one. He needed Uncle to build the water chains, and I was too young. However, Uncle insisted on trying. I think he wanted to be fair to the others. And since Uncle did it, I took one, too.
I was sweating until I saw mine was a long one.
Naturally, Uncle’s luck held true. He got the shortest.
I started worrying about those bullies in the town. With Uncle’s luck, they will use bullets instead of stones. Uncle’s memory, though, is as short as his luck. He never seems to remember the last disaster.
He told me not to fret.
Of course, I can’t help it.
Later
Uncle came back with his shirt all torn and cuts and bruises on his face. Well, at least he’s alive.
The Fox tended to his wounds. When Uncle took off his shirt, I saw that his body had even more cuts and bruises.
He told us the bullies had jumped him after he mailed the letter. This time they had not yelled any insults first, so there had been no warning or chance to run.
I was all set for reporting them to the local magistrate.
The Fox stared at me as if I had said the dumbest thing. He told me it would be no use to go to the magistrate. Chinese are not allowed to testify in the courts. No one with a dark skin can. We are not people to the Americans.
When I asked, I found that Esteban and his brothers or Jubal would also not be allowed to be witnesses.
There are bullies not just in town and not just in the other mining camps. They are even in the government.
The Fox told me the whole truth then. If an American jumps one of our claims or robs one of us, it is not a crime. Not unless another American sees it and testifies.
I had never heard of a country with such laws, but the Fox said this is the Americans’ country and their rules.
But it is our country, too. We work hard here and pay taxes. I thought of the bullies in the town. There are only a few of them. I expect most Americans are like Hiram.
The Fox agreed with me. Unfortunately, the good ones are just as scared of the bad ones as we are. There is no one to help us.
Suddenly, the Golden Mountain seems even farther away from home.
August 1
This Sunday Uncle didn’t think it was safe to go into town to get a horse. I hadn’t realized how much I looked forward to the rides. However, I tried to hide my disappointment.
Instead, I went to the edge of camp and tried to catch a glimpse of Hiram. I didn’t see him. I hope he’s all right.
I thought of what Uncle said about gold being a curse. I felt it reaching out with invisible hands to twist people’s hearts and minds. It’s made everyone crazy.
Uncle made more fishing poles for us so we could try our luck here. Of course, when the others saw me sitting idly by the stream, they came over to ask me to write letters, but Uncle chased them all away with a growl.
I thought longingly of the meadow and the waterfall. With the bullies about, it might just as well have been a continent away.
And what if they caught us there?
It’s like the old story about the beautiful flower hiding the poisonous snake. When you’re drawn to the loveliness, the snake strikes, killing you.
August 2
We have been busy building water chains. The faster we get to the gold, the faster we can go home.
August 5
The water chains have been set up in a row like insect soldiers. We’ll move them into place when it’s time.
Uncle and I have switched to splitting some of the smaller logs for wood. I work hard. I don’t worry about the bullies when I’m busy.
August 10
This afternoon, the Fox sent a dozen men into town to see if a package had come. Naturally, Uncle got a short straw again. Prosperity’s going, too.
The package must be important to pull that many men off the Great Wall. It must
be as big as a boulder if you need a dozen. However, the Fox asked them to be careful because it’s very fragile.
I can’t work. I’m writing this as I wait near the edge of camp. I expect the worst.
Later
Uncle and the others got back safely. The others of the group must have had enough good luck to make up for Uncle’s bad.
The package isn’t the size of a boulder. It’s a wooden crate that Prosperity easily carried by himself. Through the cracks between the boards, I could see wisps of straw.
They didn’t have any trouble with the bullies. I guess twelve were too many to attack.
We were all dying to see what was in the crate. Everyone left work to gather around. So the Fox opened it right there. But we weren’t to laugh and we weren’t to ask questions.
When the Fox pried off the boards, he lifted out a huge chamber pot. He turned it around in his hands. There wasn’t a chip on it.
I asked Uncle in a whisper why the Fox had gotten that.
All Uncle could guess was that the Fox doesn’t want to use the latrines anymore at night. He figured that the Fox must be too scared to go out in the dark. The other miners think the same thing.
How can we work for a man who’s too scared to leave his tent?
August 13
I was in the tent with the Fox when we heard the shouts of robbers.
I began to snatch up the coins of the payroll. I was going to run away. However, the Fox calmly told me to put them back down and step to the back of the tent.
I hated the thought of losing all our hard work. I told the Fox I could get under the tent side and escape with his money. The Fox snapped at me to do what he said. Hastily I dropped the sacks down onto the table.
Suddenly the flap was thrown back. Three robbers stood there. The cowards wore cloths over their mouths. Even so, their eyes and hair color said they were Americans. Beyond them I could see angry miners and my worried uncle. Two of the robbers stayed outside with drawn guns while the third strolled into the tent in broad daylight as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
