Tom sparkled with glee as Shamus sat down beside him. “That was real fun, sir. Thanks a lot.”
“And a fine job you’ve done, lad. Tis Tom they call you, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Named after your father are ya, and a fine man he is.”
“Yes, sir. It was Ma’s idea.”
“And your Ma, she’ll be waiting at home for you?”
“Ma, no sir. Ma’s . . . well, she’s gone.”
“I’ll be truly sorry for ya, Lad. Tis a terrible thing to lose one’s ma.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Now would ya tell me, man to man, what was it that riled your Pa so, back at the saloon today?”
“Riled my Pa? I guess I don’t really know. But you probably shouldn’t have given him the whiskey, sir.”
“The whiskey, lad? It was but a wee drink to seal our bargain.”
“Yes, sir, but Pa promised Ma and . . . well . . .”
“Aye, I understand. Would ya be wanting to steer the boat a little more, Tom?”
“Yes, sir! You bet I would.”
“That’s a fine lad. Do you see that inlet about two points to port, son?”
“Port, sir?”
“Just a pinch off to the left of the bow.” Flanagan lined it up with his hand.
“Yes, sir, I see it.”
“That’ll lead us to a wee fishing village called Sausalito. Ya just keep her bow on the middle of it, lad. I’ll be talking with your Pa.”
Shamus worked his way to the bow where Pa sat. Tom could see them as he kept the boat heading toward the center of the inlet, just like Mr. Flanagan had asked him to do. It was harder than he thought it would be. He had to move the tiller back and forth a lot to stay on course, but soon the shore on both sides of the boat was closer and he was inside the inlet. The small fishing village was a few points off the port bow. That’s what Mr. Flanagan would say. He grinned.
Pa and Flanagan stood. They shook hands, and Shamus made his way to the stern again. Tom was glad they had made friends. He was proud of his Pain that saloon, sure, but he liked the Irishman, and he was glad Pa did too.
“A fine job you’re doing, lad, but I’ll be needing to take over now.” Tom scooted aside to let Shamus have the tiller. “We’ll not be docking, lad. Your family will need to jump your animals into the shallows. Will you go forward and tell them, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“On the water, lad, a sailor answers his captain with aye, aye, sir.”
“Oh, yes, sir. I mean, aye, aye, sir.” Tom snapped a clumsy salute and grinned. Shamus was fun.
“That’s a good lad. Now be off with ya.”
Tom slipped forward to tell Pa what Shamus wanted him to. Meanwhile Flanagan swung the boat in close to shore. The sail flapped loosely as it lost the wind, then rattled as it dropped down the mast and draped around the boom. Tom hung onto Sadie’s neck as the Irishman removed a part of the deck rail nearest the shore.
“Mr. Marsh, tis been a pleasure doing business with ya, sir.”
“Thanks for the ride, Flanagan.” Tom saw Pa turn to look at him, then his eyes darted back to the Irishman. “And I thank you for what you done.”
“Twas nothing, sir. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Marsh. Tis three fine sons you’ve been blessed with.”
“Yeah, guess I am.” Pa turned to his sons. “Let’s go, boys. Jess, get that horse in the water.”
“You bet, Pa.” Jess kicked the pinto and sailed over the edge of the deck. With a loud splash they landed in the shallows. Jess gave another kick, and the pinto sloshed onto the shore.
“You’re next, Hank.”
“Yes, sir.” The buckskin flew off the boat. Pa gave the mule a jab in the rear end, and off it went after Hank. Soon both waited ashore with Jess.
“Tom, are you sure you can do this, son?”
“Yeah, Pa. Hank and Jess done it.”
“Go ahead then.”
Tom leaned over the mare’s neck and gave her a pat. “You can do this, Sadie. You don’t want that old buckskin showing you up, now do you?” Sadie snorted and bobbed her head. Tom gave her a nudge and Sadie easily splashed into the shallows.
Pa quickly joined them on the bank. He rubbed his chest and winced like maybe he hurt some. “Jess, will you ride ahead and find us a place close by to camp?”
“But, Pa, there’s still daylight left.”
“It’s been a hard day. I’m tired, son.”
Jess looked over at Hank, puzzled. His big brother shrugged then nodded. “Yeah, Pa. I’ll find us a good place to sleep.”
Jess rode north at a gallop. Hank and Pa followed, but Tom hung back. He looked over to the boat. Flanagan raised the sail back to the top of the mast. With a few quick strokes he lashed it tight.
Tom gazed out across the water. “Mr. Flanagan, I want to thank you for letting me steer the boat. I had a whole lot of fun.”
“And it’s a great help ya were. I’ll be wishing you the best of luck. You listen to your father, lad, and it’s a fine man you’ll become.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Tom flashed another clumsy salute. Flanagan returned a crisp one then swung the boom to port. The sail filled with wind and the boat sped out into the bay.
“Goodbye, Mr. Flanagan.”
He stayed on the shore until Flanagan’s boat was a small speck far out on the water. At last he gave Sadie a pat. “I’m sorry, girl, but we’re going to have to catch up with Pa. You can do it, can’t you?” Sadie snorted. “Aye, tis a fine mare ya are, Sadie.” He grinned. Yes, Mr. Flanagan was fun.
Two young Spanish señoritas watched from in front of one of the handful of fishing shacks in the village. They looked pretty in their colorful shawls. He smiled and touched his hat. They giggled and put their hands to their mouths to hide their laughter from him. To his right three fishing boats were hauled up on the shore, their nets drooping from the masts to dry. He gave Sadie a nudge and rode north.
Soon he could see the gelding ahead. There was no sign of Hank or Jess. He cried out, “Pa, wait up.” Pa didn’t stop. He kicked Sadie to a gallop. “Pa, it’s Tom. Wait up.”
The mare caught up quickly, and he slowed Sadie to match the pace of the gelding. Pa’s head bobbed in rhythm to the gait. His eyes were closed, his face pale, almost white. “Wake up, Pa!”
“Huh? What? Oh, Tom. I must a dozed off.”
“Pa, you don’t look good.”
“Tired, real tired. Ride up and tell your brothers we need to camp.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Go ahead, son. Hurry.”
“Sure, Pa. Come on, Sadie.” He whacked the mare’s rump with the reins. Pa was in trouble. He knew it. Deep down inside he knew it.
Soon he could see his brother ahead. “Wait up, Hank!” he yelled as loud as he could. Hank stopped the buckskin and turned back in his saddle. Tom yanked on Sadie’s reins and the mare skidded to a stop.
“Hank, something’s wrong with Pa. He looks real bad. I don’t like it at all.”
“All right, Tom. Take it easy now. Pa might have a touch of the fever, but he’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, Hank. He looks ghost white. He told me to tell you that he needs to camp quick. Where’s Jess?”
“Jess is coming back this way. I saw him at the top of the next rise. He’ll be here directly.”
“What are we going to do, Hank?”
“We’ll get Pa to bed. He’ll feel better tomorrow. Now don’t fret so.”
“I don’t know. He don’t look good at all.”
The pinto dashed up with Jess yelling out as he stopped near his brothers. “Hey, I got us a good campsite on a creek just over the next rise. Where’s Pa?”
Tom blurted out, “Pa’s bad sick, Jess. We got to help him quick.”
“You’re always fretting about Pa. He’s as tough as they come.”
“You got to listen to me, Jess. He ain’t right, I tell you.” Tom turned to Hank. He
needed help. “Tell him we got to help Pa, Hank. Tell him.”
“All right, we ain’t going to let nothing happen to Pa. He’ll be fine once he gets some rest. You relax, you hear? He’s coming up the trail now. Go on back and ride with him. Me and Jess will go ahead and get the camp set up.”
“Sure, I’ll ride with Pa.”
As he turned Sadie, Jess flashed him a reassuring smile. “Don’t fret now. Pa ain’t going to let nothing stop us from getting to the goldfields.”
Pa slumped low, both hands on the saddle. Tom pulled Sadie to a stop and looked at him. His face was pale, his eyes closed, his hands as white as a fresh bed sheet. Tom grabbed his arm and gave him a shake. “Pa, it’s Tom.”
Pa’s eyes opened slowly. “Oh. Arm’s numb. Can’t hardly feel my hand.”
“Jess found a place to camp, Pa. It’s just up ahead. Can you make it?”
“I’ll be fine.” Pa’s voice was shallow, breathy.
“I’m riding with you. Just take it easy.”
“Thanks.” He held out his hand, weakly. Tom took it. It was cold, like the water from the bay.
He rode beside Pa up the rise. They rode slowly, and he kept his eye on Pa. At the crest he could see Hank and Jess along the stream. Hank had tied the animals to a line between two small redwood trees and unsaddled the buckskin while Jess built a fire. Pa was no better, his eyes still closed, his face still white. They rode down to the camp.
He called out, “Hank, help me get Pa from his horse.”
“You mean Pa can’t—”
The mule brayed loud and started to buck. The buckskin and pinto whinnied, snorted, and thrashed furiously against the line. The rope tightened then snapped. Both horses bolted. The mule bucked, kicked, and brayed wildly.
Pa’s gelding neighed and pranced backwards. Sadie snorted, reared high on her hind legs. She turned and ran headlong up the hill. Tom struggled to rein her in. “Stop, Sadie, stop.” Sadie was in a panic. It took all his strength to halt her and turn her back. The gelding bucked now. Pa held the reins, trying to control him. Hank had a grip on the mule but struggled to hold him.
“Snake!” Jess bolted toward the rifle leaning against a tree. He threw the flintlock to his shoulder, aimed and fired. With a loud boom, a bolt of fire erupted from the muzzle. Sulfur smoke filled the air.
The gelding reared high then sped off. Pa dropped the reins, grabbed his chest, and slumped down. The gelding leaped the stream. When he touched ground, Pa tumbled off in a heap.
“Pa!” Tom screamed.
4 Smiling Jack’s Injun Woman
“Dang!” Joshua hurled the flat pan across the creek and into the steep bank, rocks and sludge splattering into the water along its path. “There’s no gold here. Every miner we’ve talked to hasn’t found anything either. All the talk of gold comes from Jack and his cronies.”
Eban looked up from across the stream. “Yeah, and now we’re hearing stories about Sutter’s new saw mill on the American River. Looks like they found gold right in the millrace. The captain put a lot into that mill. Maybe he came here just to keep folks from overrunning it.”
Angry that he may have been deceived Joshua barked back, “You mean Sutter started rumors of gold here just so he could protect his investment in a saw mill?”
“Well, it sure looks like him and Marshall tried to keep the lid on the gold at the mill. Sutter’s been a big man here for a long time. Things aren’t going so good for him now. I reckon he might’ve had a reason.”
“And Jack is feeding the story to keep miners here and drinking in his saloon.”
Eban tossed a rock from his pan. “He’s making more money than the miners are.”
“And what about the woman?” Joshua indicated the hill with his gaze. “She’s there, watching, like she’s done every day. What does she want?”
Eban emptied his pan into the water and sailed it toward the camp. “I wouldn’t gnaw over her much. Jack likely bought her from somebody who trades in squaws.”
“Bought her? Bought a wife? That’s barbaric.” Joshua climbed from the stream.
Eban followed him from the water. “There ain’t enough white women here to meet a man’s needs. You got to take what’s available.”
Joshua threw his hands out. “But shouldn’t love have something to do with it?”
“Don’t stew on it too much. We been working hard, and it’s Saturday. I’m looking forward to a card game down at the saloon. Maybe we can make more money there than we have digging here all week.”
Playing poker at Jack’s Saloon suddenly seemed treacherous to Joshua. “What if we wind up playing with Norton? You heard what Rufus said about his cheating.”
“We’ve played with cheats before and won. Norton’s a drunk and a bully, but he’s about as sharp as a rusty axe. He’ll deal himself a winner, so fold early on his deal. The rest of the time he’ll bet high, take chances, and then we can take him.”
“And what if Norton’s a sore loser and wants to fight?”
“Well, I’d check the loads in that fancy Colt you’re carrying. You don’t want to go against Norton man to man. You seen what he done to Rufus.”
“Eban, are you suggesting that I kill Norton?”
Eban sighed and shook his head. “No, I ain’t saying shoot Norton. Folks out here ain’t used to guns that fire more than once. You pop off a couple of quick shots with that new repeating pistol, and you’ll get Norton’s hackles down in a hurry.”
“I suppose you’re right. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
They walked toward Jack’s saloon and Joshua took a last look to the hill to the north. He could see the woman climbing between the trees. She left just as they did. She wanted something from them. Now he was sure.
She darted across the moonlight into the deep shadows behind the tent. They were still inside. All week she had watched them as they mined along the creek. The older one, gray showing in his hair and beard, reminded her of her father, but it was the other one, the tall one with the broad shoulders, who had brought her hope, the same slim hope she carried week after week. Then would come the poker game, and Norton’s fists and boots stomped that hope into the dust.
He was young and strong and carried himself with pride. The blue hat looked like an army hat. Maybe he had been a soldier, but now he was in the tent, probably playing cards with Norton. Soon he would likely be battered and broken like the rest of them. It was useless to hope. No man would help her. She pulled a lock of her dirty hair in front of her face and twisted it around her finger. She was ugly, too ugly for any man to help.
She leaned in toward the canvas. She could hear the faint rustle of cards, the clink of glass. The game was still going. She waited.
Then came Norton’s bass. “It’ll cost you fifty, soldier boy.” Norton’s speech was slurred. He was drunk as usual, but he had called him soldier boy. Was the tall one playing with Norton? Her flimsy hope faded.
“I’ll see your bet, Norton, and raise you, oh, whatever you have on the table.”
“Why, you weasel. That’ll clean me out.”
“If you think you can’t win, then fold.” The tall one sounded cool and composed while Norton was nervous, edgy. Norton was losing. It didn’t matter. Norton would pound him into the ground for cheating, then take his money.
“You ain’t buying this hand, soldier boy. I call.”
A long, quiet lull, then the tall one spoke. “Three ladies, Norton.”
“Three— why you lousy card sharp. You been cheating me all night. I ain’t got to take this from no man.” Wood crashed into wood. It had started. “I’ll cut your gizzard out, you lousy tinhorn.” Oh no. Norton had pulled the knife! Her hands flew to her face.
“You lost fair and square, Norton. You drank too much and you played like a fool. Don’t make this evening any more unpleasant than you already have.” Another sound, a loud click. It was something she hadn’t heard before.
“You only got one shot. You don’t kill me, I’
ll cut you to ribbons.”
Bam! A shot!
“You’re empty. You’re mine!”
No! Now Norton would kill him. Her heart sank. Bam! Another shot. What—?
“The next one won’t miss. Your choice, Norton.” The click again. He was still alive. A faint trace of hope returned.
Another voice, “You lost, Norton. It happens when you gamble drunk. Go on and sleep it off. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” It must be the older man, the tall one’s friend.
“Norton, you cause any more trouble in my place and I’ll kill you myself. Now get out of here.” That voice, that man. She cringed, but Jack was throwing Norton out. This time it was different. There would be no beating. No one would be hurt tonight.
Norton’s bass came again. “You’re a dead man, soldier boy, fancy popgun and all. And I’ll get you too, Snyder. Count on it.” Norton was leaving. The tall one had done it. He won, but for how long? Norton was sure to kill him now.
“You two better watch your backsides.” That voice again. “I hear Norton’s real good with that knife.” She shivered. She knew how right Jack’s warning could be.
“We’ve faced a few bad characters in our time, Jack, but you’re right. I worked up here with Norton before the war. He was trouble then.” It was the older one. He knew Norton. Maybe they understood. Her hope rose. Could it be they would live?
“Makes no never mind to me. He kills you. You kill him. No skin off my nose. Just giving you my side on it, that’s all.” The clink of glass. Jack would leave soon. Should she run to the tall one and beg him to help her, to take her away from this horror? Oh, Lord, she was scared.
“Norton wasn’t happy with losing tonight. He lost a lot, sure, but he drank too much and he played poorly. If you play poker drunk, you’re likely to lose.” The tall one spoke clearly. He wasn’t drunk like the others had been.
Hangtown Creek: A Tale of the California Gold Rush (A Tom Marsh Adventure Book 1) Page 4
