Boyd spun around and grinned. “Tom! Howdy. Sakes alive, you look different every time I see you. I thought you was a Mexican feller and ran right by you. Are you two together?”
“Yeah, we are.” I said. “Say Boyd, could you answer a question for me?”
“Sure, be happy to.”
“It came to me watching you run over here and just might be real important to us.”
Behind Boyd Eban scratched his whiskers, uncertainty whittled deep into his face.
But I kept talking to Boyd, “Last time I saw you, you mentioned a fellow near your camp who talked about the miners’ cooperative running folks off claims. Was that guy a gold panner?”
Boyd looked down and pulled on his earlobe. “As I recall he dressed real nice, like you, all in store bought clothes and such. He didn’t look like no miner to me.”
My mind raced. “Do you recall what he did look like?” I asked.
Boyd rolled his eyes up some before he went on. “I recollect him right good. He was a tall, lanky feller, with a skinny moustache and one of them scrawny chin beards. He had some awful thick eyebrows too. Seems like he was losing his hair, but I could be wrong about that. He dressed a lot like one of them fresh-off-the-boat fellers too.”
I hardly believed my ears. “Do you know where he camped? Eban and me sure would like to talk to him.” The man Boyd saw sounded exactly like Lacey’s pa.
Boyd pulled on his earlobe one more time, looked upriver and wagged a finger. “It was right after sunup when he stopped by heading west, down this way. He must’ve camped somewhere close to Pa and me. Don’t know if he’s still there or not. That was soon after them three guys got killed. Ain’t seen him but that one time.”
I needed a little more. “Where’s your camp?”
Again Boyd pointed upstream. “You know the ford that leads to the dry diggings on the other side of the river?” he asked.
“Yeah, I know it.” I frowned. I knew the ford well.
“We’re across the river at the top of the first ravine to the east. Pa ought to be there. He might even be doing a little mining, if he’s feeling up to it.”
“I’m glad he’s doing better, Boyd,” I said with all honesty.
Eban stepped up from the back of the wagon, leading the dun. “Boyd, what would you say to three dollars for helping the two of us load the wagon then, when we’re done, you take us over to where you think this guy camped?”
Boyd’s mouth opened wide before breaking into a broad grin. “Yes sir,” he agreed right quick. “I’d say that’s powerful generous of you, downright kindly.”
“Good, let’s get to it. We got no time to dilly-dally,” Eban said and looked over to me. “Is this alright with you, son?”
“You bet it is.” I rippled with excitement. If I came home and told Lacey that I’d found her Pa she’d be flat out tickled pink.
Eban led the dun to the millrace and left him to drink his fill and graze in the tall grass there. I followed with Rojo. Then we all pitched in to make short work loading the pile of lumber onto the wagon.
We left the rig in the saw mill lot, picked up Boyd’s old mare from the hitching post in front of the blacksmith shop and headed east past the road to Hangtown Creek. At the ford across the American River I got another cold chill up my backbone. It was a good bet that somewhere close to here Scarface and his partner killed my two brothers to steal the supplies on their mule. As far as I knew nobody had ever seen a trace of Hank, but the body of poor Jess washed up by the millrace dam the next morning and my life changed forever.
When we reached the north bank we turned right and headed upstream. A lot of men worked here. Some stood in the river and panned ore while others dug in one of the gulches that carried the rainwater to the river in the wet winter months. At the bottom of these ravines, in a layer of clay just above the bedrock, men often found nuggets as big as a robin’s egg. A man who mined in the right spot could become rich in weeks.
Before the first ravine Boyd stopped the mare at a rocky pathway that led up the side of the river valley. “That feller you’re looking for, if he’s the same one I talked to, must’ve camped somewhere up on the ridgeline. All the good mining spots near the water have men working claims. But further up, away from the river, a man’s got to carry the ore to the water to pan. It’s a lot of work and I don’t know what anybody’s found much color near the top anyhow.”
He pointed to the path, nothing more than hoof prints in the dirt. “This leads up to a game trail along the ridge. From there we can look down into the ravines. Maybe we can spot this feller’s campsite, if he’s still around.”
Eban nodded. “It’s worth a try,” he said and started up the hill.
We took the path single file. I brought up the rear. Rojo easily picked his way through the brush, scrub oak, stones and rocks that littered the way. He’d spent his early days as a cow horse. Trained by Mexican vaqueros, he acted right at home in the rugged gold country.
Near the top of the slope, I looked down to the American River. From here it seemed a calm, gentle stream and not the roaring torrent that it did below. The ripples and eddies, caused when the powerful current broke over rocks or washed past snags as the river swept onward to Sacramento City, weren’t so clear anymore. But all along the stream men still stood in the water panning for color, and shacks and shanties like the one Doak Wiggins lived in were scattered across the shore. The river here was a busy place.
Boyd pointed to a man sitting on the hillside off to our right, wooden splints lashed to his left leg, who chopped the soil near the top of the ravine with a small ax, pulled the dirt out with his hands and pawed through it looking for nuggets. “That’s my Pa,” he said, shaking his head. “There ain’t no gold up this high on the hill, leastwise nobody’s found none yet, but he digs anyway. He can’t hardly walk, but every day he works at his digging, bound and determined, and never finds a single nugget.”
The sadness in Boyd’s voice came across clear, but something about his Pa didn’t make much sense. “Why don’t you move to a place where you’d be more apt to find gold?” I asked.
“I talked to him till I was blue in the face, but he don’t listen,” Boyd said. “He’s dead set on the idea that all the gold they find down near the river comes from up here. Says it all must wash downhill and swears he’ll find a big pocket soon. Been saying that since we moved here, right after his leg broke. I don’t know, maybe he’s right.” Boyd looked down, clucked at the mare and rode off across the ridge.
I watched the tall, gangly farm boy riding ahead of me. Boyd loaded wagons, worked hard at whatever job he could find, all so his Pa could search for gold, even in a place where there wasn’t any to be found. That took a special sort of man, somebody with a big heart packed with love. I’d always felt pretty dang good about giving Boyd money for loading the wagon. Now I knew why.
We rode on past the start of several other ravines that grew wider as they went downhill, but no one else camped along any of them. All around only dry grass and scrub brush grew in the bare, hard ground. We saw no water, no shade and no good place for a man to camp. If Webster Lawson was still here I sure couldn’t figure out why, but Boyd kept going, like he knew where he headed and so we trailed along behind.
Finally the country changed. Pine trees grew along the ridge again, lone oaks on the slope. Boyd stopped and nodded to a small clump of bay trees surrounded by brush at the top of a ravine that zigzagged back and forth as it grew wider on the way to the river. “If the feller you’re looking for is around. That’s the likely spot.”
Eban grinned a bit and scratched his chin. “Any water there?”
Boyd shrugged. “Don’t know. Bay trees like water but there ain’t none running down the gully right now.”
I nudged Rojo. “There’s only one way to find out if Lacey’s pa is there,” I called back and hustled down the hill.
“Hold on, Tom.” Eban yelled. “We don’t know who might be in there.”
&
nbsp; “We know K.O. ain’t there. Come on.” Webster Lawson could easily be in those trees. I had set my mind to find him like Boyd’s pa had set his to find gold. I wasn’t about to wait for anybody or anything. The clatter of horses came from behind me. Eban and Boyd followed.
A sickening stink twitched my nose. It got stronger closer to the trees. Something foul sat somewhere in that grove. I gulped. Anything could be behind those bushes in a spot this out of the way, but I sure didn’t want to have to tell Lacey I’d found her pa dead and rotting. I pulled up my bandana and wrapped it tight around my mouth and nose hoping to block the stench. It didn’t help much. At the edge of the brush I stopped Rojo and climbed to the ground.
“Take that scattergun with you,” Eban yelled from behind me.
I glanced back at him. He wore a no-nonsense, worried look, and I quickly pulled the shotgun from the scabbard. With it in my hand I felt better right off. After all, I still didn’t know what was under the trees. A huge grizzly bear or a fierce mountain lion might lurk there, ready to protect its supper of a deer. Or it could be the body of Webster Lawson, dead from the gunfight with K.O. Manuel. I found a likely place to push through the bushes and paused.
“Be careful Tom,” Eban hollered after me, then in a softer voice I heard him add, “You wait here, Boyd. No use you putting up with this stink.”
A fierce quiver shook me all over. My heart thumped fast inside like it had after K.O. shot Jeremiah yesterday. I tried to take a deep breath but gagged from the smell, so I put my free hand on the bandana and sucked in some air through my mouth. It was still pretty foul. I cocked one barrel of the shotgun, put my shoulder down and charged into the brush.
A horrible squawking broke out. I grabbed the scattergun in both hands, finger on the trigger, and burst into the clearing. Shrieks and a loud whooping sound rose up. An ugly, shriveled red head with bulging, beady eyes loomed in front of me. Toppling backwards I yelled and jerked the trigger. The shotgun went off with a boom that would wake the dead and a kick that knocked me flat on my rump. More squawks, more whooping and another monster came right at me, talons bloody, raw meat hanging from its beak. I screamed again, rolled over on my belly and covered my head with my hands, knocking the sombrero off as I did. Whatever bird just attacked me had to be the most hideous, fearsome critter I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Tom, you all right?” Eban called. He sounded as scared as I felt.
“I’m okay, I think,” I yelled back, and realized that the squawking had stopped. I pulled my hands down and peeked back where the last ugly, redheaded monster jumped me. Everything seemed calm, quiet even, with no sign of any monster all. I grabbed my sombrero and the shotgun, stood up and walked carefully back into the clearing. At once I saw the source of the smell. It looked like a horse, or what had once been a horse. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The bile in my gut rose, but I swallowed hard and managed to keep it down.
A man lay on a bedroll to my left and pointed a pistol right at me. That made three today, I thought. The man’s hand shook worse than Jeremiah’s had earlier, and he was as pale as anybody I’d ever seen. Plus he had a bloody, yellow bandana tied around his left thigh. It didn’t take a lot of deducting to know who he was. “You’re Webster Lawson, ain’t you,” I said.
“Who’re you?” he said in a weak, squeaky voice.
“Name’s Tom Marsh. I’m here to help you if I can. Lacey’s awful worried over you, sir, but I’d worry a lot less if you’d put that pistol down.” I yanked the bandana off my face and wrinkled up the brightest smile I could muster at the moment, but I was getting awful tired of people pointing guns in my direction.
“Lacey? You know Lacey?” The gun sagged to the ground.
“Yes, sir. I know her right good.”
Lawson’s eyes flicked toward the brush behind me. “Who’s with you?”
Eban stepped into the clearing, a rifle cradled in one arm. “Name’s Snyder, Major Lawson, Eban Snyder,” he said and touched the brim of his straw hat.
“How do you know me, Snyder?” Lawson sounded so hoarse he crackled.
“The war, sir. Hauled a lot of supplies for Fremont under your orders.”
“Yeah, I guess you would’ve.” He wheezed and laid his head back against the saddle he used as a pillow. “Do you have water?”
Eban nodded. “I’ll get my canteen,” he said and ducked back through the brush.
I had to ask, “Are you alright, sir? I mean why are you here like this?”
“It’s a long story. Will you help me sit up, son?”
“Sure,” I answered and walked over, took the Major’s hand and pulled him up. Off to my left a rocky hole, still wet along the bottom, must have held water recently. A tin cup jammed against the high side caught a slow drip that had probably been Webster Lawson’s only supply of fresh water for a while.
“Thanks,” the Major whispered. He braced himself with one hand, hung his head and sighed. “If you hadn’t shown up they would’ve started in on me as soon as they finished with my horse.” He gave a weak wave around the clearing with the other hand.
“They, sir?” I thought he had to be talking about the monsters that attacked me. After all, he must’ve seen them.
“Vultures, the vilest creature God ever made. They’ve been here since yesterday and I’ve already made my peace with the Good Lord.” He managed a weak smile. “You hit the one you shot at. Blew him way over there. Good riddance.” Lacey’s Pa nodded toward the brush across from where I’d come into the clearing.
Vultures! I could slap myself. I should’ve known, but I’d never seen one so close before, never had the slightest notion that any of God’s creations could look so down right wicked. The thought of being so near to something that would eat the dead, stinking flesh of the horse turned my stomach again. This time I couldn’t hold it down. I ran to the bushes and heaved.
When I finished I wiped my mouth and turned around. Eban had made it back and now he stared at me with a smug grin across his face. I hung my head, red faced that I’d lost my breakfast like I’d done and that Eban had seen it. I needed to be tougher. I knew it. He was bound to take me to task about it now.
But he turned instead to Lacey’s pa who still sucked on the canteen Eban had gotten for him. “We need to get out of here, Major. I got a crawling in my gut too. Can you ride?”
Lawson wiped his mouth with his sleeve and handed the canteen back. “Thanks,” he said. “I can probably ride, but I can’t walk. I took a ball in the leg.”
“I’ll look at it, but right now I’d feel better if we got away from this stench.” Eban helped Lacey’s pa to his feet and wrapped the Major’s left arm over his shoulder. Together they hobbled through the brush to the horses.
While I waited for them I rolled up Webster Lawson’s bedroll and slung it across my back, picked up his saddle and saddlebags and followed them. I caught up outside the clearing. Rojo stood a lot closer than the dun and I untied the reins. “You can ride my horse, Major. I’ll walk alongside. We can go to Boyd’s camp and figure out what to do next.”
Both men looked at me with raised eyebrows, but Eban grinned. “So you’re in charge of this operation now, are you, Tom?” he asked.
I dropped the saddle and flopped the bedroll and saddlebags onto Rojo. “I’m only trying to help, Eban,” I mumbled like any kid would who’d just been chided for acting uppity to his elders.
Lacey’s pa put a hand on my shoulder. “And you’re doing a fine job, Tom. I owe you my life, young man, and I humbly accept your generous offer to let me ride your horse.” His voice still crackled a little but he sounded a lot smoother now that he’d had some water. I looked up, surprised to see a smile on his face. I grinned back, feeling better, and together Eban and I had Web Lawson mounted on the chestnut in no time.
Eban picked up the Major’s saddle. “We’d best get on with this. Them vultures circling over our heads look real ornery,” he declared to no one’s surprise.
While Eban climbed o
n the dun, I took Rojo’s reins and walked off toward Boyd who waited up at the ridgeline. Lacey’s pa sat quiet in the saddle, slumped down low, eyes sunken and closed, beard growing wild over gray, ghostly skin. In the sunlight I could see how thin he looked. His clothes hung loose like they belonged to somebody a lot bigger.
When we got near Boyd’s camp, I looked back again to check on the Major. His eyes were open now. “Are you okay, sir?” I asked.
Webster Lawson nodded. “I’m awful hungry, son,” he moaned.
I grinned. “You’re in luck, sir. I packed enough food to last all of us a couple of days. When we get to camp I’ll whip you up some pan bread for starters, then I’ll see what else I can put together for you.”
A sparkle flashed in Major Lawson’s eyes, though he still looked weak and pale. “That’s fine, Tom. Thank you.” He took a deep breath and coughed. “You mentioned Lacey, how do you know my little girl? Are you from San Francisco?”
“Oh, no sir. Eban and me live over the hill along Hangtown Creek.” I pointed off to the south. “Lacey came up to Coloma a few days ago. Mrs. Wimmer rounded her up about the time Eban stopped by to get Mrs. Wimmer to help Maggie with her new baby, so Lacey came along. She’s a big help with baby Josie and down at the cafe. She stays up at the cabin with Maggie.” I looked square into the Major’s face and continued. “Lacey’s awful worried about you, sir.”
Major Lawson’s gray face darkened. “I told her to stay put,” he groused. “Why did she leave home?”
I felt my eyebrows knot together as my mouth twisted up some. The Major sounded mad now and he’d asked a tough question that I didn’t know how to answer. Still, I had to try. “She said some fellow there scared her real bad, sir. But when it comes right down to it, I’d say she missed you a whole bunch.”
Lacey’s pa shook his head softly. “She’s always been too headstrong for her own good. I guess I should thank God she found people like you and Eban to take care of her.”
“Oh, no sir, nobody’s taking care of her, she holds her own pretty darn good. Yesterday she cooked lunch and dinner at the cafe and the miners loved it.”
Into the face of the devil: A love story from the California gold rush Page 11
