Into the face of the devil: A love story from the California gold rush

by John Rose Putnam

  “I guess I got lucky,” I told him.

  “The Good Lord smiled on you, son,” he said and glanced up to the sky before he turned back to the river, picked up his ax and chopped at the earth some more.

  “Yes sir,” I agreed. “I’m real grateful too.” I knelt down beside him. “I brought you some pan bread and bacon. Are you hungry?”

  “Bread?” His eyes jerked up from the river ford and bored into mine. They had the same look as Morton’s eyes had the last time I saw him, a hungry man about to be fed. “I ain’t had fresh bread in months,” he muttered.

  “Here you are, sir.” I handed him the plate.

  He tore off a big hunk and stuffed it into his mouth. His gaze flicked back to the river, a broad smile across his face.

  7

  The sun hadn’t even snuck up over the snow-capped Sierra Nevada Mountains yet when I crawled out of my bedroll to stoke up the fire. I put on enough coffee, bacon and pan bread for everyone in camp. After the coffee brewed and with the last of the bread in the skillet, Bug Riddle pushed himself to his feet with his crutch, grabbed his rifle, limped to the fire and sat on a log beside me.

  I gave him a cup of coffee and some breakfast. “Good morning, sir,” I said, my tone full of eagerness. Today looked to be awful exciting. I had set my mind on finding K.O. Manuel and was raring to get at it, in spite of my promise to wait here for Eban.

  Boyd soon joined us and took the food and coffee I offered with his usual wide grin. “This is a real treat for me Tom. I do all the cooking here and I ain’t got the hang of flapjack bread yet, not by a long shot.”

  I smiled back. “You do real good with rabbits, Boyd.”

  “Sure I do. Rabbits are easy. I’ll bag another one right after breakfast,” he promised and waved his hand over the rifle leaning on the log beside him.

  “When you’ve got that rabbit maybe you can ride down to Weber Creek with me?” I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “Mind you now, Tom, I don’t want you misunderstanding me none. I’d like to help you find this feller what’s causing such a ballyhoo around here, but I can get at least one wagon loaded down at the saw mill before your friend Eban shows back up. Pa and me, well, we really need the money.”

  I frowned but Boyd had a point. “You’re right. I can’t ask you to help me rustle up a fellow as dangerous as K.O. Manuel for free, and I can’t pay what it’s worth. I’ll go myself.” A shiver ran up my backbone as I walked over to Rojo, fully intending to saddle him and ride out alone. Looking for K.O. Manuel seemed scarier than I’d first thought it would be.

  “Would you consider the help of a shot-up old army major, son?”

  “What?” I spun to the sound. “Major Lawson, are you up to something like this, sir?” I asked with a bit of wonder. Yesterday the Major had barely been able to ride.

  “Well, I might have to take it slow,” he admitted. “But if I could get some of that coffee and bread I’d like to try. I’ll need a horse though.” He sat up without any help. His face had lost most of the pastiness and even had a bit of color about it. “Will you give me a hand over to the fire, son?”

  “Sure, sir. I’ll help you.” And I gave him a tug up to his feet.

  He braced a hand on my shoulder and took one shaky step after another. He groaned each time he moved the wounded leg, but he kept at it until he reached the fire.

  After the Major sat down on the log, Bug Riddle pushed himself up with his crutch and picked up his Hawken rifle. “You can ride my mustang paint, Major. She’s a bit skittish round strangers but if you handle her gentle she’ll warm up to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Riddle. That’s kind of you,” said the Major.

  “Her name’s Lola. I reckon she could use the exercise,” Bug called over his shoulder as he hobbled off toward the ravine.

  Boyd picked up his rifle and stood. “I hope you find that feller you’re looking for, Tom. Thanks for the breakfast.” He tipped his hat to the Major and strode off through the pines.

  Major Lawson took the coffee and the plate of food with a nod of thanks. He sipped the coffee, sat the cup down and picked up the bread. “Son, you’ve put a lot into finding me and Lord knows I’m grateful to you, but I would be mighty pleased if you could tell me the whole story of how you came here, starting with when you met my daughter, while I’m busy with this fine meal.”

  I nodded, glad for the opportunity to tell the Major all I knew about the scoundrels at the mining cooperative and the downright wickedness of K.O. Manuel. So I started back on Friday when Lacey showed up at the cafe. Throughout the whole rundown Major Lawson only asked a few questions and mostly sat and ate his breakfast. I finally worked my way up to Boyd leading us to the spot where we’d found him. Then I moved on to the idea I’d gotten from Jeremiah Wiggins that K.O. Manuel camped along Weber Creek north of the ford, and how I planned on going there this morning.

  “Anyhow, that’s the long and short of it, sir. I’d bet K.O. already left his campsite to do whatever evil deed needs doing today, so it ought to be safe for us.”

  The Major downed the last of his coffee. “I’m impressed, Tom. You’ve put a lot of thought into this and figured things out real well. I’ll go with you to find this campsite, but only because it seems like the best and fastest way to protect both you and my daughter from this monster. I have no doubt he’ll kill you if he can and, if he ever finds out who Lacey is and where she’s staying, heaven only knows what might happen to her. But you must do exactly what I tell you. Is that clear?”

  I knew the Major was right. “Okay, sir, I’ll do what you say.”

  “Good, now let’s see if I can make friends with Lola.” He swabbed the last chunk of bread through the bacon grease at the bottom of his plate then quickly polished it off. “Let me try walking to Lola by myself, but I would be grateful if you’d bring my saddle over.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, wondering if I should help him to his feet.

  Major Lawson struggled some but he stood up by himself, and with a broad grin slowly limped off to the west of the pines where the horses were tethered. He still groaned each time he moved the bad leg but it was clear he could make it without my help. Bug Riddle’s paint snorted and pulled back on her rein when he got near, but he talked to her nice and soft and soon she let him stroke her neck. In no time she nuzzled him with her big snout.

  I hurried over with all of the riding gear but when I got close Lola shied away again.

  Major Lawson held out his hand to stop me. “Here, let me have that tack, Tom.” Once he’d grabbed hold of it he started talking to Lola again and soon he had the mare saddled and ready to ride. Major Lawson had a nice way with horses, I thought.

  I followed him down the slope toward the river. As we passed Bug I waved and he nodded a closemouthed goodbye. He wasn’t hacking the earth with the ax now. Instead, he sat with the Hawken cradled in his lap, waiting for K.O. to cross the river and into his gun sight. Then, I was sure, Bug would blow that red shirted devil to kingdom come.

  Only a few people wandered along the street as we rode through Coloma. The shops had just opened and Web Lawson eyed each store we came to. He took special notice of P.T. Burns General Merchandise where the roll up pants still hung in the window, and turned to me. “I could use some new clothes. Mine are rotten and full of the stink of my dead horse. Maybe on our way back we can stop here.”

  I gulped and pointed to the Golden Nugget. “You can, sir, but once I worked at that saloon, cleaning up in the mornings. The mining cooperative office is next door. A lot of folks here still know me, even in this Mexican hat. Word might get back to K.O. right quick if somebody spotted me.”

  The Major’s gaze quickly found the small sign hanging in front of the staircase beside the saloon. “So they do their recruiting in the bar, do they?”

  “Yes sir, at least that’s what I think.”

  Major Lawson grimaced. “I need to find this guy soon. There is too big a chance that someone I care about
will get hurt if I don’t.”

  “I’m kind of worried about Lacey too, sir.”

  He looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “Yes, I’m worried about Lacey, but it sounds like she’s safe for the present. Right now you’re the one that’s in real danger.”

  I nearly gagged. The idea that I could get hurt, maybe even killed, kept slapping me in the face. Yet no matter how many times it did I still wanted to chase the trouble I knew was coming. It was hard to understand, but I craved the excitement all the danger caused. It tingled up and down my backbone, thrilling me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Somehow I loved it, even though it scared me to death at the same time.

  Still, I kept my head down, my face hidden behind the broad brim of the sombrero, until we were well beyond the last building in town. There the stands of pines grew thick. The river could only be seen through an occasional gap in the forest, but the murmur of rushing water rippled between the trees clear enough.

  A flurry of wings burst from the grass near the trail. The vultures in the grove flashed in my mind. I ripped the shotgun from its scabbard, cocked it, and had it up to my shoulder, ready to fire, in the blink of an eye. My heart pounded. Sweat beaded on my forehead. But I didn’t shoot. “Quail,” I gasped, realizing how tense I was as the last of the plump, gray, low flying birds disappeared among the trees. From my right I heard the Major chuckle and turned to face him, sure my face was as red as a ripe apple.

  The Major smiled. He didn’t look like he thought my being fooled should embarrass me. “You sure got that heavy shotgun up and ready real quick,” he said with an encouraging tone. “But you held your fire when you realized it was only a covey of quail. Some men would have shot as soon as the gun was at their shoulder. If you’d hit a bird or two that wouldn’t be so bad, but suppose it had been an innocent stranger who startled you and you killed him without thinking. That would’ve been terrible.”

  The Major’s praise lifted my spirits a bit. I really wanted Lacey’s pa to like me. “Well,” I started talking kind of slow, unsure if what I had to say would impress him or not. ”I thank you, sir, but to tell the truth I’m not out and out clear I can shoot a man. I’ve never been much for killing anything. I don’t like seeing critters suffer,” I admitted, knowing full well I was talking to an army man whose business was shooting people. I hoped he wouldn’t think less of me because of how I felt.

  “That’s the way all right thinking men are, son,” the Major replied. “Killing an animal for food is necessary, and sometimes a man has to kill another man in self-defense. Still, it’s a hard thing to do.”

  “But you’re in the army and the army is supposed to kill people,” I blurted.

  Major Lawson shrugged. “There are men in the army who actually enjoy killing. That’s true. But they aren’t good men and they are often trouble for their commanders. There’s a lot of brave talk about fights, battles and heroism—men will be men—but when push comes to shove most soldiers would rather not fight if there’s any reasonable alternative. War is, after all, dirty, hard and very dangerous.”

  I nodded. “I never thought of it that way, sir.”

  “We’re hunting a man now, Tom, just like we would hunt a deer,” the Major went on. “When we find him it’s likely that there will be gunplay and someone, hopefully the man we’re looking for and not one of us, will be killed. I’ve noticed how thoughtful you can be. In spite of what you just told me, I have to believe you’ve spent a lot of time considering whether you’ll be willing to pull the trigger when and if the time comes.”

  I looked down at the shotgun resting in my arm. “Yes sir, I reckon I thought about it some,” I said softly, almost in a whisper. My mind tore back to the night before I went after Jeremiah and how I’d determined that if it came down to it I’d shoot him because it was better than being shot. The Major was right. The same things mattered here. Deep down I really didn’t want to shoot another man, but if I had to do it I would. I’d set my mind on it.

  I released the hammer so the shotgun wouldn’t go off accidentally but left it cradled in my arm, ready to use if needed. Then I turned back to the Major, who stared at me with a stern face and calm eyes, waiting, I knew, for the answer to a question that had never been asked. “I’m ready, sir,” I said in a strong, clear voice.

  The Major broke a small smile, not one of happiness or frolic but one of satisfaction that I’d given him the answer he expected. He nodded like he had known all along, and nudged Lola to a trot. “Let’s find this scoundrel’s camp,” he called.

  At the ford on Weber Creek we stopped. Major Lawson turned to me. “So this Jeremiah boy said K.O. Manuel is camped somewhere off to our right,” he said in a matter of fact way, but it was really more of a question.

  Right here in the middle of the stream, where the current is fast and the water deep, Sadie, the mare I rode when I first came to the gold country, stepped into a pothole and threw me head over heels into the creek. I’d been washed downstream and nearly drowned before I got lucky enough to grab onto one of Sadie’s stirrups and pull my head back above the water. I quickly pushed the memories away. The Major wanted an answer. “Yes sir,” I said smartly. “That’s what Jeremiah told me yesterday.”

  Still I felt queasy. The old terror I once had from coming so close to drowning that day suddenly ran up my back. Maybe Lacey’s pa could see it in my face. He wore the same stern, cold-eyed look that he’d had back when we talked about shooting people. He seemed awful aware of little things like that, and real concerned that I agreed to whatever we were about to do. It seemed like he looked after me kind of like Pa had done before he died.

  No doubt I felt better with the Major here so I kicked Rojo’s flank and waded into the water, facing my trembling nerves and the memories at the same time. “Just past that big rock there’s a good place to camp.” I yelled over the rush of the stream. “Maybe that’s where he is.”

  “Take it slow, Tom, and be careful,” the Major called out. I heard Lola splash into the creek behind me.

  I took Rojo around the rock. On the far side I saw the place where I’d come out of the water that day. After my family caught up with me we’d camped just beyond a thick stand of brush. It would be a great place for a killer to stay, out of sight from both the trail and the creek but still close to both. I guided Rojo up on the grassy space alongside the stream and waited for the Major catch up. “There’s a campsite behind the bushes, sir,” I pointed out when he pulled Bug Riddle’s paint to a halt next to me.

  “Do you know this area well, Tom?”

  “A little, sir, I camped here a year ago.”

  “All right, you wait for me. I’ll go over and see what’s there now.”

  “Yes, sir.” I knew as soon as I’d said it that I didn’t want to sit and let the Major go alone into what could be K.O. Manuel’s camp. I wanted to go too, but I’d promised to do what Major Lawson told me and so I’d wait as ordered. Still, while the Major rode slowly toward the brush, I pulled back the hammer on one barrel of the shotgun and eased my finger near the trigger, just in case trouble happened.

  The Major pulled out his Paterson Colt and nudged Lola through the shrubs. Soon I couldn’t see him anymore. My meddlesomeness got the best of me. I had to know what happened on the other side of those bushes. I edged Rojo toward the brush.

  Major Lawson called me, calmly like there wasn’t any hurry, but I busted into the campsite as fast as I could. The place where I’d stayed after almost drowning in the creek looked like a lot more people used it over the last year. Someone had built a real nice fire pit and moved some logs around it to sit on, but I saw no sign that anyone camped here now.

  The Major squatted beside the dead fire, fingering a handful of ashes. “If our friend was here he’s been gone for a couple of days at least, probably longer.” He pitched the cold cinders back and stood. “Then again, maybe he’s camped somewhere else close by. Do you know of more campsites around?”

  I grinned.
An officer in the American army asked my opinion about where a real bad man he’d been sent to nab might be holed up. I pulled myself up proud and pointed downstream. “There are probably more spots further on,” I said. ”When I was here a year ago folks were mining in the shallows where the water eddies near the American River.”

  “Why don’t we ride down there then,” the Major said and climbed on Lola.

  We picked our way through the rocks, trees and brush beside the Weber Creek. Near the American River three Mexicans worked a rocker, a shorter version of the sluice the Chinamen had used. One man pitched ore into a hopper, another one poured water onto the ore to wash it across cleats nailed on the bottom to catch the gold, while the last man rocked the whole contraption like a baby’s cradle to make things flow easy.

  “Morning,” Major Lawson began. “Finding any color?”

  The men looked up with fear in their eyes. The rocker man turned to answer. “Someone has mined this place before us, Senor,” he said. “There is only a little gold left.”

  “Have you been here long?” the Major went on. The man who poured the water took a step back and slid one hand down closer to a pistol tucked into his waistband. The Major must have noticed but he kept talking in a calm voice. “We’re looking for someone we heard might be camped close to here. I thought maybe you’d seen him. He rides a pinto and wears a dirty white straw hat and a red shirt. We think he killed some miners upstream a while back.”

  The faces of the three miners relaxed when they heard this news. The rocker man nodded. “Si, we see this man, Senor, a week ago, maybe two. He say we must leave. Someone else need to mine our claim. He carry a shotgun like you.” He pointed at me. “The man speak my language and say he will shoot if we do not go, but he no see Jose behind him with the rifle.” He flicked a finger toward the woods. A man in a wide sombrero stepped from behind a tree and cocked a heavy flintlock aimed at the Major’s back.

  Lacey’s Pa didn’t even look, just tipped his hat as calm as could be. “Vaya con Dios,” he said in Mexican, turned Lola and rode back upstream.