Hangtown Creek: A Tale of the California Gold Rush (A Tom Marsh Adventure Book 1)

by John Rose Putnam

  “They bring a little color out now and again. Been a few guys who done real good. Folks say soon they’ll hit a big strike.”

  Eban took a sip and put the glass on the bar. “Well, I reckon that’s good news. Rather be finding that pocket than some other feller. Name’s Eban Snyder. This tall feller here’s Joshua Stone, and you look familiar to me, friend. Ain’t I seen you somewhere?”

  Jack turned his back and began wiping dirty glasses with his dirty rag. “Folks around here call me Jack. Reckon you can too. I don’t recall seeing you, mister.”

  “Naw, I got a good eye for faces.” Eban was pushing now. “You been down to Sutter’s Fort some, I reckon. Maybe you come down with a load of whiskey and peddled it at the fort now and again. Yeah, you look like that feller. That you, Jack?”

  Jack snarled, “Round here folks don’t ask about who a man is or what he done. Best you mind your own business.”

  “Reckon you’re right. I’ll do just that.”

  Jack turned to Joshua. “You’re wearing an army hat. You a deserter?”

  “Folks around here don’t ask questions about what another man is or what he’s done, do they, Jack?”

  “Reckon you understand me.” Jack turned his back to the bar again and busied himself prying open a wooden crate.

  “Yes, I understand you.” Joshua felt it was time to change the subject. A discussion of Jack’s background might not be productive. “So Jack, how would a couple of guys stake a claim around here? Are there any good spots left?”

  The barkeep turned and motioned with his pry bar. “Still some spots to the east. Just settle in on one and start working it. You get fifteen feet on both sides of the creek all the way back to the hills. Lose it when you leave it.”

  Joshua finished his drink. “That sounds fair enough. Are you ready, Eban?”

  “Reckon I am at that. Thanks for the drink, Jack. We’ll be seeing you.” They left the bar and walked their horses along the creek to the east.

  Eban took a quick look around. “Reckon Jack don’t want to remember selling booze down at the fort, but I’d bet my best horse that’s the same guy. He weren’t much back then, and he ain’t much now but he sure likes his likker.” He spoke quietly so no one would hear.

  “If he is the same man he doesn’t want to talk about it. Are you sure?”

  “I told you, I’d bet my best horse.”

  “You only have one horse, Eban.”

  “Reckon he’ll have to do then. Jack never done nothing that I know of what was real bad, but he was always around it, and always friends with the troublemakers. Never seemed to get his hands dirty. Seems like he must have lived up near the Bear River. Come down every month or two and sell a load a whiskey then go on back.”

  “Eban, don’t look now, but there is someone watching us from the brush to our left. It’s too far to see clearly, but I’m sure they’re there. Let’s just keep going and act like everything is all right.” He reached into his saddlebags and retrieved a spyglass. “Keep talking, Eban.” He let his horse follow his friend’s and trained the glass on the area where he had noticed the motion. He could see someone hiding on the edge of the forest. He adjusted the focus as Eban talked about the whiskey peddler.

  “I can’t tell for sure, Eban, but it looks like a woman. I’m going over there.” He put the glass in his pocket then walked the horse straight toward the figure on the hillside. Whoever watched them fled deeper into the trees.

  He turned back to his friend. “It’s a woman. She was dressed strangely, like an Indian, but why is she watching us?”

  Eban grinned at him. “Well, if it’s a woman, more than likely she ain’t watching us, she’s just watching you. Don’t get too many ex-army officers in this neck of the woods. Maybe she’s sweet on you, and maybe she just wants your scalp. Reckon it could be one just as easy as the other.”

  “She must be the one Rufus talked about, Jack’s Indian woman.”

  “Rufus said Jack swore to kill anybody what messed with her. She might be a mite troublesome.”

  “Something doesn’t seem right with her. Even the Indian women around Fort Leavenworth didn’t spy on people. Maybe I’m not used to your ways out here.”

  “You never know about them Injun gals. They got their own ways about things.”

  They found a place along the creek with a ready-made fire pit surrounded by logs and settled in. After a quick meal, they spent the rest of the day digging soil from the sides of the creek and washing it in wide, flat-bottomed pans in the cool waters of the stream.

  It was near sundown when Eban tossed the slurry that remained in the bottom of his pan into the stream, disgust pasted on his face, sweat staining the band of his battered straw hat. “We been mining all afternoon and we ain’t found enough color to pay the wages Sutter paid.”

  Joshua looked up, but his eyes went past his partner and on toward the foothills to the north. “She’s still there, Eban. Watching us from the edge of the trees.”

  Eban put more sand into the pan then swirled it around just under the surface of the water. “Maybe we ain’t hit the right spot yet. Maybe there’s a pocket just a little deeper, a little downstream, or somewhere else.”

  “Rufus said she watched him too. I wonder what she wants.”

  “Dang!” Eban tossed more slurry into the creek. “Maybe Sutter weren’t peeved that them Kanakas was drinking. Maybe he was peeved that there weren’t no gold here.”

  Joshua dropped his shovel and scrambled up the side of the stream. “I’m going up there.” He took off across the camp.

  Eban sloshed another pan full of soil into the water. “Could be the gold’s hiding under one of these rocks.”

  Halfway to the campfire, Joshua heard Eban yell, “Hey, where are you going?”

  “I’m going to find out what that woman wants.” Joshua nodded towards the trees.

  “Whoa! Hold on there! Think about what you’re doing. That woman’s probably Jack’s. He’s liable to back up his threats if you mess with her. And if he still works like he done before the war, he’ll sic Norton on you. Norton’s as big as a tree and meaner than a mad dog. You seen what he done to Rufus Ward. We had enough fighting in the war. Let’s don’t get into a fracas over some Injun gal.”

  Joshua stopped and sighed. “I guess you’re right, Eban. But I still have a feeling something isn’t right with her.”

  “It’s close to sundown. Let’s whip up some supper. You’ll feel better on a full gut.” Eban crawled out of the creek. They walked to the fire pit and put on a pot of beans and bacon, but until darkness settled in, Joshua’s eyes continually drifted to the woman at the edge of the forest.

  3 Sailing

  “Holy smokes, Pa, I never seen so many tents. Is this how folks live in San Francisco?”

  “It’s cause of the gold, Tom. There’re twice as many people here today than when I left a week ago. They must be coming in from all over to get to the goldfields.”

  Hank looked north to a small cove off the large bay. “There’s the town, down near the water. That’s the old Spanish mission off to our right.”

  Tom paid no attention to the adobe-walled mission. The ships bobbing on the open waters of the bay had grabbed his mind. “Wow, look at all those masts sticking up.” Nearly a dozen vessels were anchored inside the protection of the inlet, their masts peaking above the clay tile rooftops of the small town clustered around the cove.

  Pa wiped his face with his sleeve. “There’re more ships here than when I left too. This town has the gold fever. But that’s where we got to go, down to the docks. We need somebody with a boat to tote us and the animals across this here bay.”

  Tom sucked in a deep, excited breath. “You mean we’re going to go out on the ocean in one of them boats, Pa?”

  “Well, we ain’t going in the ocean exactly.” Pa turned toward him. “We’ve got to cross the bay just to the north of the town there, and the only way to do that is by boat. You’ve never been in a boa
t have you, Tom?”

  “You know I ain’t, Pa.”

  “It’ll be a big adventure for you then, won’t it?”

  Tom cast a dreamy eye toward the water. “It sure will be. Wow!”

  Jess raced up from the small town, waving his hat and yelling like he had when they left home. “Yahoo! Hank, Tom, you got to see this place. People are everywhere and they’re all talking about gold. It’s wild, I tell you! Wild!”

  “You been chasing the cow again, Son?”

  Jess reined up. “Yeah, Pa, I had a few drinks. Two miners, all fancied up in brand-new store-bought clothes come by. They bragged about how much gold they found and bought drinks for everybody. Then they told us how they done it. They even told us where they done it. They was up river from the saw mill, Pa, just like you said. There’s tons of gold up there. Yahoo! Come on, let’s get moving.” Jess spun the pinto and tore back toward town, still yelling and waving his hat.

  “Hank, you best stay with Jess. He’s apt to get into some sort of shenanigan in town. I’ll take the mule.”

  “Yes, sir!” Hank passed the mule’s reins to Pa then kicked the buckskin’s flanks and sped off behind Jess. He pulled off his hat and waved it. “Wahoo! Wait up, Jess. I’m coming.”

  Tom followed Pa and the mule. Downhill from the tents, the buildings of the small settlement began. They passed several houses, and each looked deserted. Then they came to a store. Nailed across the door was a sign, “Gone to the washings.” The next store held a similar sign, as did the third and the fourth.

  “Pa, it looks like everybody’s left here.”

  “Yeah, a lot of the townsfolk were making plans to go mining when I was here, but look yonder. Down near the water’s where they are.”

  Pa was right. As they neared the cove where the ships were anchored, men crowded the street, standing in clumps at the corners, passing from door to door and sitting in small groups sipping from open bottles. “Pa, there’s the pinto and the buckskin. Hank and Jess must be around here somewhere.”

  “The boys must be in the cantina. I’ll go in and get them. Wait here for me.” A man stumbled out the door, slid down against the adobe wall and took a pull from a bottle.

  “Pa, I want to go with you. It’s kind of scary out here. A lot of these men look like they been chasing the cow.”

  “I guess they have, but this place is a saloon. That’s where men go to chase the cow. There’ll be a lot of drunks inside too.”

  “But I’ll be with you. Pa, please.”

  Pa’s brow furrowed. He tied the gelding and the mule to the rail and sighed. “There’s going to be a lot more of this kind of stuff where we’re going. Maybe it’s time you seen it, but you stay close to me, you hear?”

  “I’ll stay close. I promise.” He followed Pa inside the door. The place was crowded and very noisy, the air thick with smoke. Most of the men stood at one end of the big room, but a lot of others sat at tables piled with money, playing cards. Tom could tell that they had been chasing the cow kind of hard.

  “Pa! Pa, over here.” It was Hank. He waved from a group of men to their left.

  “Come on, Tom. Stay with me.” They snaked their way through the crowd to where Hank and Jess waited.

  “Hank, I never expected this out of you. You was supposed to look after your brother and keep him out of places like this.” Pa sounded mad.

  “No, Pa, you don’t understand. A saloon’s the place to get things done here. We need to cross the bay, right? Well, I got somebody you need to meet.” Hank looked around for Jess then yelled out, “Hey, Jess, bring your friend over here.”

  “Right away.” Jess grabbed a small, nervous-looking fellow by the arm and dragged him over. “Pa, this is Shamus Flanagan. He’s got a boat and he can take us across the bay today.”

  The man walked up and stuck out a trembling hand to Pa. A pinched, turned up nose and a black knit hat flopped over his left ear made him look like a squirrel. “Aye, that I am. Shamus Flanagan at your service, sir.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Flanagan. I’m Thomas Marsh. So you can take the four of us and five animals across the bay, you say?”

  “Aye, and for only fifty of your American dollars.”

  “Fifty dollars! You’re drunk, man!”

  “Tis a sad state I am in, to be sure, but the price of libations has risen with the present mania, and I find myself short of funds to continue. More than a fair price it is.”

  Jess put his hand on Flanagan’s shoulder. “You better think about it, Pa. Other men are charging double that and you got to wait four or five days to go.”

  “Double! You ain’t lying to me, are you, Jess?”

  Jess shook his head. “No. Prices are going up here every day, and there’re hundreds of men waiting to go.”

  Pa pulled the bag with his money out and looked inside. “All right, Flanagan. It’s a deal. Let’s go.”

  “Aye, you’re a wise man, Thomas Marsh. Shall we seal our bargain with a wee drop?” Shamus pushed a glass into Pa’s hand and filled it with a bottle from his coat.

  Tom panicked. Pa hadn’t had a drink since Ma died. “Pa, you ain’t going to—”

  “Hooray! I hit it big, boys. Drinks are on Charlie Saunders!” Tom’s words were drowned by the roar that erupted at the offer of free drinks from the suddenly wealthy miner. Men began pushing and shoving to get to the free liquor.

  Pa looked down at the glass in his right hand. The hand shook. His face flushed, then he lashed out with his left, grabbing a fistful of Flanagan’s shirt and pulling the Irishman close. “I said, let’s go, Flanagan.”

  Shamus cringed. “But tis a wee shot we got coming.”

  “Here, drink this.” Pa pushed the glass into the Irishman’s face then turned it up. Most of the contents ran down the man’s chin and onto his shirt.

  Hank’s eyes burned red. He didn’t cotton to anybody messing with family. He grabbed the boatman’s arm and yanked. “Pa said it’s time to go.”

  Jess took the hint and grabbed the other arm. “It’s a nice day to go sailing, ain’t it, Flanagan? Come on.”

  Shamus looked from one brother to the other then back to Pa. “Aye, I’ll go.”

  “Tom, go untie the horses. Hank, you take the mule. Jess, get your rifle. If this Irish bar bum runs, kill him.”

  “Be just like shooting rabbits, Pa.”

  Outside they surrounded Flanagan with the animals, Jess in the rear with the flintlock cradled in his left arm, and marched Shamus Flanagan to his boat.

  “Pa, you was great in there, but I thought for a minute you was going to drink that whiskey.”

  “Tom, for a minute there, I thought I was going to drink it too.”

  Tom’s eyes rolled from one side to the other as the boat skimmed over the water. He heard Jess yell over the roar of the wind, “We’re sure a long way from the farm now, little brother! Have you ever felt so free before?”

  “Yeah, it’s great! This bay is so big, so empty.” The boat plowed into a wave. Cold water sprayed over the bow.

  Flanagan yelled from the stern, “Hold on to your animals, lads. We’re in the current. It shan’t last long.”

  Tom threw his arms around Sadie’s neck. The mare was skittish, shaking her head and snorting, pawing at the deck of the boat. “Easy, girl, easy. It’s just the current. Shamus said it’ll end soon. Yeah, girl, it’s scary for me too, but I think it’s great. That’s a good girl.” He grabbed her bobbing head and stroked her nose. The boat turned into the current. Its progress smoothed and Sadie soon quieted.

  A strong wind funneled through the gap between the headlands above San Francisco and the northern peninsula. It blew his blond hair around as it pushed them over the rush of water coursing out toward that same gap and the sea beyond. Behind his right shoulder lay the boats anchored in the cove they had sailed from, the fifty or so buildings of San Francisco, and the field of tents on the hillside above them.

  A bare, rocky island sat off to the right and beh
ind it rose another, more rounded one, covered in trees. Thickly forested hills lined the east shore, and as far as he could see, both north and south, the great bay ran on. Jess was right. He had never felt so free.

  He turned toward the stern to let the breeze blow the hair from his eyes. Shamus motioned to him and yelled over the roar of the wind. “You, lad, would ya care to steer the boat?”

  Tom’s head jerked up. He looked around. The Irishman wanted him. “Me, sir?”

  “Aye, lad. And hurry with ya now.” Flanagan beckoned him to the stern.

  He let go of Sadie and hustled to the rear, his arms wide to balance against the rolling of the boat. Shamus Flanagan stood, one hand still on the tiller, to make room for him to sit.

  “Are ya ready, lad?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Aye, I’ll be telling ya. You put your right hand on the tiller here and your left here.” Tom grabbed the long wooden shaft. Shamus continued, “That’s the lad. Now we’re going to turn the boat and sail into the wind. I’ve got to swing the boom to the starboard.” Shamus pointed to a bigger shaft under the sail.

  “Starboard?”

  “Aye, lad. That’ll be the right side of the boat. When I give ya the signal,” he moved his arm in the direction he wanted to turn, “ya pull the tiller to ya. Then when I give ya this signal,” he moved his arm in line with the center of the boat, “ya move the tiller back amidships.”

  “You mean back where it is now?”

  “Aye, lad, back where it is now. Do ya understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it. I pull the stick this way then back where it is now.”

  “Aye, that’s a smart lad. Remember now, wait for my signal.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll wait.”

  Flanagan went forward and began working with the ropes that held the sail in place, then Tom saw his arm drop to the north. It was the signal. He pulled the tiller hard towards him. The boat began to turn. Suddenly the sail went slack. Shamus tugged frantically on his ropes, and the bottom boom swung around to the other side. Snapping, popping, the sail filled with wind. The boat creaked and groaned then sped off in the new direction. Flanagan’s arm came down again, and Tom pulled the tiller back to where it had been.