Curse Of The Spanish Gold (The Mountain Men Book 2)

by Terry Grosz

  “Sure do, and it is only a few days’ easy travel to this pass and then home to more land than anyone would want,” Jim quietly replied.

  “Jim, this ain’t one of your windy tales you spoke of earlier, is it?” asked Jacob.

  “No, I would never do that to the sons of my dear departed friends. What I speak of is a high mountain valley a few days’ ride from here with more than enough room for everyone to farm and raise cattle and their families in peace. An area full of pronghorn antelope, rolling fat mule deer, great-tasting elk, good grasses, plenty of water, and soil that will grow most things, and a griz or two thrown in for the spice they offer” Beckwourth answered seriously.

  “How do you know of such things?” asked Jacob, now very serious as he stepped into his role as wagon master.

  “Because that is where I have my ranch,” said Jim with quiet emphasis.

  “How much land are we talking about that might be available?” asked Jacob.

  “At least twenty thousand acres of farm and grazing land and another area like in size of forested land, if n anyone is interested,” Jim replied with a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes.

  “How did you come to find this place?” Jacob asked again.

  “Because the place I speak of was deeded to me by the king of Spain and authorized by the Spanish governor Vallejo before the Californians won their independence. He did so for my service to the Spanish crown as an explorer,” Jim answered proudly.

  “But that is your land,” said Jacob.

  “That is right, but those are the lands I would be willin’ to sell to you good folks if n that is what you want. I am growing too old to farm and ranch such an expanse of land. So I would be willing to sell off a large amount of it to get out from under so much work. Then I might like to retire on a smaller ranch that I also own near Grizzly Creek at the west end of the valley I call Sierra,” Jim explained. “Plus, I would be surrounded by newfound friends and a ready-made market for the lumber produced from my mill for new houses, barns, fences and such.”

  “Sounds good to me, but I would have to present your offer to the people of the wagon train and see what they think,” Jacob said, feeling very excited but still very much under control.

  Looking over at his brother, Jacob could tell Martin was excited at the prospect of such a piece of property as well. Especially one so close at hand that did not include a difficult trip over the dangerous Sierra Nevada Mountains during the fast-approaching winter.

  The next morning there was a colder-than-usual chill in the air and a timely dusting of snow in the Sierra Mountains lying to the south and west. How prophetic, thought Jacob as he called the men from the wagon train together so they could hear Jim’s offer.

  Jim covered the same ground he had spoken about the evening before with Jacob, Martin, and the Hall brothers. The only extra things he threw into the conversation were the price of the land at fifty cents per acre, which could be paid off as the crops came in, and over several years’ time. And he mentioned that he had a small sawmill along Grizzly Creek that could produce lumber for the building of homes and barns. Then, as if just remembering, he said there were two additional mountain valleys lying just to the north of his lands, Clover Valley and Squaw Valley, that would be available for the raising of cattle or dairy herds as well.

  Many questions flew from the gathered men, but most seemed to be very interested in Jim’s offer in light of the land’s closeness, the fair price, and the easy mountain pass through which they would have to travel. The one nagging question most had was where the nearest markets would be for their crops and beef cattle.

  “This settlement we are in right now is still growing by leaps and bounds. Then there is Virginia City and several smaller towns called Truckee, Sierraville, American Valley (Quincy today), and Mormon Junction (Portola today). “All of them would be nearby markets for your crops and cattle.”

  He also pointed out that their first couple of years would be spent breaking the ground and raising seed crops, so most production would be self-consumed. After that time, there would surely be better and closer markets for their crops and beef. Beef especially would be in demand in the small towns springing up in the surrounding areas where gold and silver were being mined because the miners had shot and eliminated so much of the wildlife in the surrounding areas. Jacob and Martin could tell that Jim’s offer excited the men. They as a group, were happy at the prospect of ending the trip and getting on with their lives.

  The next day, after the camp had slept on the offer and mindful of the approaching winter, the closeness of the proposed destination, and trail-weariness, they took a vote. To a family, everyone decided to join with Jim Beckwourth and head west to his lands of promise. Then the work and preparation in the wagon train truly began in earnest for the final leg of their trip.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  California Bound!

  Jacob and Martin led a delegation of travelers from their wagon train into Rose and Ernie’s Emporium the next day at daylight. As everyone gawked at all the available wonders, Jacob and Martin waited for Rose to finish with a customer.

  “Good morning, Rose,” Jacob said to the lady with the red apron when she came over to them.

  “Good morning, Jacob. What can I do you in for?” she answered with a smile.

  “These good folks are part of our wagon train and have need for enough supplies to last until we can return in the spring and resupply. They will need the usual staples as well as stock tack, buffalo robes if you have any, and notions for the ladies and kids,” said Jacob.

  “That be fine with us, Jacob. And how do you to propose to pay for this world of goods your folks will more than likely need?” asked Rose in a business-like tone.

  “My brother and I will pay you in gold,” Jacob said quietly.

  “Then let us get down to the brass tacks and gather up what these good folks need. That plus we will have some fair ideas of our own based on past needs of wagon-train travelers going to California.

  “Ernie,” she yelled, “get your carcass out here. We have a passel of good folks here who need a pile of what we have to offer and have just a short time to get it thrown together.”

  “I am on the way, dear,” Ernie replied as he entered the store. “Where do you folks want to start?” he asked, and the shopping began.

  As Jacob and Martin left, they noticed store prices at $4 per barrel for flour, sugar at $1.50 per pint, coffee at $1 per pint, bacon at $.01 per pound, and so on. Waving Jerry and Dave over, Jacob told them to get what would be needed to last them throughout the winter into spring. Then, as an afterthought, Jacob said, “Make sure that list includes at least ten buffalo robes if they are available, and thirty pounds of chew.” Those last words put grins on the faces of both the grizzled old mountain men.

  Jacob and Martin headed back to Davis’s gun shop across the street. They found Larry behind the counter working on a broken pistol. Walking over to the gunsmith, the boys greeted him and asked if he had the time to show them some of the latest firearms. Getting up from his workbench, he pushed his glasses back onto the top of his head and without a word headed for the back of his shop. Once there, he reached into a closet, pulled out two heavy-barreled Sharps rifles, and handed them to the boys for examination.

  “That is the latest in rifles, boys. Them are Sharps rifles, weigh about nine and a half pounds each, and will shoot a 500-grain bullet a thousand yards, according to some,” Davis informed them.

  Both boys hefted the rifles, and it was an instant love affair. As they shouldered the rifles, they got huge grins on their bearded faces. Both men were not only very strong but larger than most men of the day, and for them, hefting such rifles was child’s play. Their weight and arm strengths were a perfect match for the heavy rifles. They laid the firearms on the counter as Jacob said, “We will take these and two more of the same caliber if you have them.”

  Davis rustled around in the closet among other firearms, brought f
orth two more of the heavy-barreled rifles, and laid them on the counter as well. “This is all I have, boys. The first two are .50-caliber, and the last two are .45-caliber. But all of them are sound as a blacksmith’s hammer.”

  “We will take all four of them, Mr. Davis, but you will have to teach us how to load and shoot them since we are used to our Hawkens and these appear quite different,” said Martin.

  “That won’t be a problem. I have a shooting range out back, and I can show you boys how they operate, but you are quite right. They are totally different from your old Hawkens, which are still good shooters, but you will find these far better, more accurate and faster to reload,” Davis responded.

  “Now,” said Jacob, “how about giving us a look at them pistols over in that display case?”

  “I can see you two appreciate good firearms. Them is my latest acquisitions just in from back East. Them is Colt Walker pistols. They are .44-caliber, six-shot cap and ball, and weigh in at four and a half pounds each. Heavy enough to bang someone over the head once you run out of shots if need be.”

  Hefting the heavy handguns, Martin got a huge grin and said, “Now, that is a pistol with more than just a little sand, to my way of thinking.”

  The look on Jacob’s face said the same thing as he also lifted the new firearm.

  “Mr. Davis, my brother and I will take two of these if you have ’em,” said Jacob.

  “Damn, boys, you are about to clean me out of my new stock of smoke wagons!” Davis replied, happy at what the sales would bring him before it was all over.

  “With the addition of these, we will need bullet molds for every caliber and several extra in case we lose or break them. Then we will need a large stock of powder for each weapon, extra cleaning rods, caps, extra cylinders, and anything else you deem we will need,” said Martin.

  “One thing you will need is a pile of linen cartridges for the Sharps and some bullet pullers in case of a misfire,” said Larry as he began calculating what would be needed with the purchases.

  Minutes later the three men went out behind the gun shop, and the boys began learning to shoot their newest acquisitions. After about thirty minutes of shooting and reloading, they were more than satisfied and proficient with their new weapons. They shot straight, reloaded easily, and aside from the normal amount of fouling due to the standard use of black powder, they were superior to anything they now carried.

  Back inside the gun shop, Davis continued to gather up accessories for the weapons.

  Martin and Jacob each took a Sharps and one of the Colt Walker pistols, and after telling Larry they would be back to settle up with him, they went down the street to a leather shop. There they ordered scabbards to be built for the rifles and belts and holsters for the big Walker pistols. Then the two men walked back to their wagon and, digging under a bunch of empty feed sacks and furs, took out a large tube-like poke of the gold nuggets they had mined so long ago in Clear Creek Canyon.

  Walking back to Davis’s, the two men quietly waited for Larry to cipher what the costs would be.

  “Well, boys, hang on to your hats. This here pile of smoke poles and all the things that go with it comes to $320.00. Now, I know that is high, and if you want to pay for the lot on time your credit would be good with me,” said Larry.

  Without a word, Martin took the poke full of gold nuggets and began spilling them onto Larry’s counter. “Stop us when you figure we have our bill paid,” said Martin.

  Larry just looked on in amazement at the golden hoard spilling over his counter and finally said, “Whoa, boys. That appears to be more than enough! Let me put a scale to ’em before you go any further.”

  Taking the front of his dirty apron, Larry formed a pocket and scooped the gold off the counter into it. Then he headed for his gold-weighing scale in the back room. Jacob and Martin followed, and after a time Larry handed back a handful of nuggets that exceeded the bill owed by the two men.

  As they put those nuggets back into the leather poke, Davis said, “I don’t know where you boys got that poke full of gold and don’t want to know. But I would suggest you keep your hoard and the location of your diggin’s out of sight and out of mind, if’n you get my drift.”

  Both boys nodded at Larry’s words of wisdom, and then Jacob said, “Mr. Davis, are you saying all that firepower you just sold us isn’t any good in a fight?” with a smile on his face for the joke he intended.

  “You boys may be big and damn good shooters, but a shot from the dark of an alley here in this town is a great equalizer,” Davis said with grim emphasis.

  Jacob, feeling chastised, grew stem and said, “You are right, Mr. Davis. After we settle up with the Eatons we will be on our way with Jim Beckwourth, and hell will follow anyone who decides to tail our wagon train for the gold it may still carry.”

  The rest of the day was spent moving their firearms back to their wagons, picking up their new leather gear for the weapons, and loading up the mound of supplies from Rose and Ernie’s Emporium. Then it came time to settle up with the Eatons.

  Jacob and Martin walked into the emporium and headed for the back room as Ernie gestured for them to follow. In the back room, out of sight and mind of the public, Ernie was finishing up his tally of goods procured by members of the wagon train.

  “As near as I can figure, you boys owe us $1,897.60. If you would like a breakdown, I can have that for you in about an hour,” he said.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Eaton. You and your wife appear to be fair people, and we don’t suspect you are out to cheat us since we will be lifelong customers if we settle where old Jim wants us to,” replied Jacob. “Pay the man, Martin,” he instructed his brother. Martin began spilling gold nuggets onto the counter from the elk-leather poke.

  Ernie’s eyes grew big as saucers at the hoard of large gold nuggets spilling over his counter and running over onto his sawdust-covered wooden floor.

  “By the God eternal, where did you boys get such a hoard?” he asked.

  “We mined them near Fort Vasquez when we lived there,” said Jacob as he studied the questioner closely, looking for any evil intent in the question.

  “Holy cow!” exclaimed Ernie as he began gathering up the nuggets in amazement. “I will need to get my scale in order to get a proper figure on what you boys have dumped here. It looks like too much, but I will need my scale.”

  He began quietly weighing out the nuggets at $16 per ounce.

  “There she is, boys. We are even, and you still have some left over,” Ernie stated.

  “Now,” said Jacob, “we will be leaving in the morning with Jim Beckwourth for his ranch. I would be obliged if you and the missus didn’t take that pile of gold to the bank until we are long gone so someone doesn’t get the idea from whence it came and come looking for it.”

  “Count on it, boys. Nary a word from our lips will be heard,” said Ernie seriously. “Besides, Rose and I have a big iron safe downstairs where we put our valuables. That is where your gold will go and be used over time as our needs dictate. 1 wouldn’t want to lose such good customers,” he continued with a genuine smile of friendship.

  The men shook on the deal and left the store for their wagon train circled out back. In short order they informed everyone that they would be leaving the next morning at daylight. Then the men were all gathered around and told the bill had been paid with gold nuggets. Jacob and Martin explained that if word of the gold got out, they would probably have a handful of ruffians hot on their trail. Because of that, each man would remain heavily armed and alert to anything out of order until they made it to Jim’s Sierra Valley. Stern faces told them that the word was well received and the orders would be carried out to the letter. Then, to a man, everyone thanked Jacob and Martin for their generosity in supplying the train through the coming winter months. It was at that moment that the brothers finally understood what Jim Bridger had told them about the brotherhood and family of a wagon train and why it was so important that they be alert to t
heir people and travels. It now also became very obvious why their dads had valued Jim’s friendship so highly...

  ***

  As Jacob sat on his horse beside Jim Beckwourth, waiting for the wagon train to get under way, he saw his brother walking toward him. Beckoning for Jacob to lean over, Martin whispered, “We still have over six hundred pounds of gold nuggets and all the golden ingots our parents saved for us. I think that will be more than enough to build our future ranches and have some left over for me to see that big pond everyone calls the Pacific Ocean.”

  Jacob smiled as he watched Martin walk back into the predawn darkness around the wagon train, mount his horse, and take his position alongside Kim’s family’s wagon.

  “Jim, we are ready to go. Lead the way,” said Jacob.

  “Wagons, ho!” shouted Jim and started to move out of the settlement heading north.

  Soon the wagons were spread out in a long line and moving easily behind Jacob and Jim. Leaving town, they climbed up some rolling hills and onto a huge sagebrush flat as they continued northerly. The travel was not difficult, as they followed another well-used wagon trail, and soon it was midday. Then the wagon train was filled with voices warning that a stagecoach was coming by. Within a moment and in a cloud of dust, a three- span pulling a grand Concorde Stage sped by, leaving a cloud of dust amid the jangling of harness chains from the teams of beautifully matched horses.

  ***

  After two fairly easy days of travel, Jim abruptly swung the wagons off the well-beaten trail heading them onto another one, less well traveled, heading into some higher, rolling sagebrush hills to the west. As expected, the oxen had to work hard for the earlier part of that day getting up over the hills. Then all of a sudden they crossed through a low pass and into a huge mountain valley lying to the west.

  “Stagecoach, ho,” came numerous shouts from the wagon train as another stage, this time a Mud Wagon, a type built for rougher trails, came alongside the wagons as the driver walked the horses up the east side of Beckwourth Pass. Once on top, the driver’s whip cracked and the three-span of horses leaned into their collars as the Mud Wagon picked up speed. It only went a few miles along the trail before them and then turned south into a large stage station built from rock to change the horses and rest the dusty and weary travelers.