by Win Blevins
Jay spoke up. “Dr. McLoughlin, I have a special request. My mother is your cook.”
“What’s her name?” said McLoughlin.
“Maylea Palua.”
“She’s our chief cook!” cried McLoughlin. “She’s excellent.”
“May I see her now?”
“Certainly.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” cried Esperanza. “I was just working with her.” The girl was excitable.
“Also, Dr. McLoughlin, would you invite her to dinner with the rest of us?”
Hannibal saw conflict tighten the doctor’s face. He was bound by strict ideas about the superiority of Englishmen. But his eyes softened. This was a special occasion in what was truly a New World.
“I can do better than that. We shall free her from her duties,” he declared, “invite her to spend the afternoon with us touring the premises, and ask her to join us at dinner.”
HOW ON EARTH, thought Julia, is Jay going to keep his secret with his mother around everybody?
The solution turned out to be simple. Maylea spoke only Hawaiian and Chinook. As a matter of fact, Jay and his mother had most of the fun on the tour. They rode Jay’s gelding together, because Maylea had never been on a horse before.
The doctor was as kind to Maylea as to anyone, deliberately including her in the conversation and waiting for Jay to tell his mother what was said.
At the back of the riding party Sam noticed something. “He’s kind,” Sam murmured to Hannibal, “but he’s kind like he’s God and we’re his children.”
“British imperialism,” said Hannibal. “We fought a war to give that the boot.”
“I don’t think I like God,” said Sam.
Hannibal grinned. “Here’s a truth about the four winds, Mother Earth, and Father Sky. They’re real, and they’re the same for everyone.”
Dr. McLoughlin showed off the crops, orchards, and dairies. “We have met the Company’s goal of being independent for our comestibles,” he said. Only Hannibal knew what he meant, but the others could guess. He also had established shops for all the everyday work of a town, blacksmithing, wheel making, barrel making, sewing, and the like. His eyes gleamed with proprietorship. “I regret that this is too vast an estate to see in a single day.”
Sam and Hannibal smiled at this sideways brag.
“The missions in California have accomplished nothing so fine,” said Hannibal.
“And nothing at all anymore,” the doctor said with a tight smile.
Esperanza showed them the room she had shared for nearly one moon with other kitchen workers. In it were the few belongings she’d brought from Joe’s cabin, her clothes, two blankets, and a cradleboard.
“I made the cradleboard myself,” she said. The pride showed even through her wan voice.
The front piece was fully beaded in Crow blue, Cheyenne pink, and white.
“Beautiful,” said Julia.
Esperanza grimaced.
They had a sumptuous meal with everyone in good spirits. Esperanza seemed giddy with happiness and drank a little too much wine.
Three parents, the grown-up daughter who was not quite a parent, and three children shared a room. When the oil lamps were wicked out, Sam, Flat Dog, and Julia lay in the dark thinking of the boy who had died, their first grandchild. Death corraled each one in his own mind, lonely and afraid.
FROM THERE OREGON was easy business for the Morgan–Flat Dog family. The White-Headed Eagle himself rode upriver with the family to the Willamette Falls, to show them how he had laid out a town plat on his land claim there and was offering lots for sale. He was also about to get his mill running.
“The Methodists have recently claimed the same land,” he declared, “that I filed on in 1829. My claim should take precedence, and I trust it will. Over-patriotic, those missionaries.”
He put a little twist on “missionaries” that tickled Hannibal. Though the doctor was a Catholic, he had strictly forbidden any attempt to interfere with the religions of Indians of his territory. The Methodists took the opposite attitude. And while the Methodists were quick with criticism of McLoughlin, they had to admit he’d invariably been kind to them. If he hadn’t advanced them provisions on credit to get through their first winters here, they would have starved.
“Everyone knows this will be American Territory, south of the Columbia,” said McLoughlin. “I plan to live here myself, when I retire.” He looked at the immense power of the Falls. “What energy for a mill,” he murmured.
He rode up the Tualatin River with the family to see the horses and was delighted. Hannibal insisted that he get on several of the saddle mounts and ride in the hackamore style they’d been trained in.
“Capital!” he said. “First class!” He followed that with a bid for the entire herd. “Or if you will accept a letter of credit,” he said, “I will give you one to the Hudson’s Bay in Yerba Buena, on San Francisco Bay. My daughter and son-in-law have just started our new post there.”
Yerba Buena. The name made Sam think how soon he would see Grumble and at Monterey Tomás, Abby, and others.
He talked the offer over quietly with Hannibal and Flat Dog.
“We could probably get more if we took our time and sold them a few at a time,” said Hannibal.
“He’s offering a lot of money,” said Flat Dog. A dozen years’ wages for an ordinary worker, in fact.
“I’d like to get on the trail to California,” said Sam.
“And we’re indebted to the doctor,” said Hannibal.
They accepted.
“In gold,” Flat Dog told McLoughlin.
IN THEIR TIPI, back on the Tualatin Plains. Warm evening air cozied up to them like a blanket. They sat outside and ate and talked quietly. They discussed teaching Joe Meek a lesson for abandoning Esperanza, but they didn’t have the heart for it. Julia said, “Being gone, being drunk—just Joe being Joe.”
Esperanza said, “I don’t want to go anywhere near him again, ever.” She added, “No man like Joe.”
Otherwise they were lost in their own thoughts. Jay wanted nothing but to get out of Oregon and into California, where he would be safe. Esperanza huddled close to Julia and pecked at her food. Azul and Rojo played quietly. Flat Dog and Julia sat close to each other, somber. All the great labors were behind them and the dream of California on the near horizon.
Sam shared the feelings, but he also felt empty. Hanging from a lodge pole behind Esperanza was the cradleboard, the one she’d spent countless hours beading. A work of art. But it was empty. One place at his family table would always be empty.
THE NEXT MORNING a Frenchy messenger arrived in a lather from Dr. McLoughlin. First he handed them a good map. A glance showed that it was even better than they needed. Up the Willamette River to Salem, three days, the Frenchy said, pointing. The Methodists had a mission there. Farther up the Willamette several days and over a divide at its head to the Umpqua River. “Indians dangereux,” the Frenchy said, “very treacherous. Maybe ten year ago zey wipe out party of your Captain Jedediah Smith completely, but for three men.”
Over another divide to the Rogue River and up that to its head. When you cross Siskiyou Pass, you’re in California. South straight past Mount Shasta, a volcano, to the head of the Sacramento River, and down it all the way to San Francisco Bay. Probably more than seven hundred miles altogether, about two months’ travel. Rugged country, those mountains at the border of Oregon and Alta California.
Then, like an afterthought, the Frenchy handed Sam a letter. “It come on big ship de la mer only late yezzerday. Ze doctor, he t’ink maybe you want.”
Sam opened the letter, saw it was in Spanish, and recognized the handwriting of Tomás.
At Santa Fe
November 2, 1840
Dear Uncle Grumble—
I write this news to you and Aunt Abby and trust that you will forward it to Sam.
Sam winced a little at the word. “Sam” instead of “Dad.” That was one of the ways Tomás used to put distance bet
ween himself and his adopted father. Funny, when Tomás was just twelve, it was he who had the idea of adopting Sam as his father.
I have been offered a great opportunity by de Vrain, one of the great traders of this city. On condition of raising my own capital, I am permitted to join in the enormous de Vrain trading caravan bound to Chihuahua, the mining district, below, and on to Mexico City. Our old friend Sumner has put up the capital, as he often did for my father, and we will share the profits equally.
I look forward to a journey rich in experience and earnings. As you know, I have not been in my native mountains, the Sierra Madre Occidental, in a dozen years, nor have I ever seen the land beyond them, the principal cities and industries of my native land, and the capital. You can imagine my excitement!
Sam hoped Tomás wasn’t planning a side trip to his birth village. When the Apaches made the raid that enslaved Tomás, they killed the men of the village, including Tomás’s father, and the small children.
You and Sam will understand that this is too great a chance to pass up. Though it delays my arrival in California for about a year, I will arrive as a man better prepared to start a prosperous life.
Please give my affection to Abby, and when my father arrives, tell him I shall make him proud of me.
Your devoted
Tomás
Sam folded the letter and put it away. I’d rather he was just here. Just here with us.
Forty-three
AT FIRST LIGHT of the day of departure Sam daydreamed of Monterey. The sunlight on the bay, like no other light in the world. He saw the mission and its fine buildings, and the cemetery where Meadowlark was buried.
His mind played back good times with the best friends of his first days as an adult on his own, Grumble and Abby. Also his longtime partner, Gideon Poorboy. After Sam had to cut Gideon’s gangrenous leg off, the peg-legged man became Monterey’s expert silversmith and goldsmith. Sam remembered the two women he had loved, both gone over. He brought back to mind the day he bought Tomás out of slavery. Tomás was an ache in Sam’s chest.
Just as he reminded himself that today was an important day to live, Julia said, “Coffee’s ready.”
Two hours later, under a bright summer sun, the tipi was packed onto lodge poles, the packhorses were laden with other gear, the riders mounted, and their horses prancing nervously.
Sam said, “Let’s move out.”
THE TRAVEL WAS pleasantly boring, and time spread softly across the days like soft butter. Sam couldn’t remember feeling mellower. As captain he kept up the usual precautions. He himself rode lookout ahead. On the left and the right flanks Hannibal and Flat Dog. Beside Julia and the kids, on the gelding that had replaced her dead mare, Jay always carried his pistol. Sam smiled and wondered if the Hawaiian would ever learn to use it. The first few days they were passing the farms of the retired Hudson’s Bay Frenchies and then the farms of the Methodists. When Esperanza or Azul, who was now fully healed, wanted to ride along with one of the lookouts, that was permitted.
In the evenings Sam encouraged Jay, Esperanza, and Azul to practice shooting the pistol. Hannibal, an exceptional shot, instructed them. In real Indian country, they wouldn’t have dared make that kind of racket or waste the gunpowder.
When they crossed over to the valley of the Umpqua, the country got rougher, and Sam cut out the pistol practice. He couldn’t help thinking about Jedediah and the brigade and the massacre here by Umpqua Indians. Sam had ridden all the way from the Great Salt Lake with those men, and nineteen of twenty-two died here. Sam missed being one of them because he left the outfit at Monterey to find his daughter, over Jedediah’s objections.
Jedediah, the best of captains. He might have been the best of friends, but his God kept him righteous and solitary.
On the Rogue River Sam’s mind turned away from the past and toward the future. He looked every day for the way through the mountains to the south, Siskiyou Pass. That marked California.
About noon one day he saw it. Esperanza was riding with him at that moment. “Go tell everyone that notch in the mountains is it, why don’t you?”
His eyes and his thoughts were on California all that afternoon. Maybe that’s why, when he stopped the outfit for the night’s camp, he hadn’t missed . . .
“Where’s Esperanza?”
“Must be riding with Flat Dog or Hannibal,” said Julia.
“I’ll go see,” said Azul. He sounded uneasy.
Sam nodded to him.
No point in riding out to Hannibal on the western flank, though—here came the Delaware at a lope on Brownie.
Azul headed for Flat Dog.
“I haven’t seen her since midafternoon,” said Flat Dog. “We walked along awhile and talked and then she rode off into the bushes to pee. I supposed she’d gone back to the main outfit.”
Sam, Julia, Flat Dog. Hannibal and Jay. The boys. Shadows of suspicion swam in everyone’s eyes.
“Let’s go,” said Sam to Flat Dog.
“I’m coming,” said Jay.
“You?” said Sam. “Why?”
He hardly knew himself, or hardly admitted it. He just said, “I’m coming.”
Esperanza’s two papas and a Hawaiian woman they thought was a man rode back fast along Flat Dog’s trail on the northern flank. The summer sun poured light onto the world late into the evening. Having a warrior’s memory for terrain, Flat Dog was able to point out the exact spot where Esperanza had dropped behind.
They followed Vermilion’s tracks easily. Saw where the girl-woman had dismounted and where she had relieved herself.
A strange pair of moccasin prints treaded to that spot. Sam could almost hear the silence of the foot pads. He felt like he was falling into the bottom of a well.
Where Esperanza had fallen, the lush grass was still crushed, and anyone could see how her feet dragged over to where Vermilion had been tied. The strange moc prints—no need for silence now—led Vermilion away. Soon the tracks led to the top of a little rise. Beyond that a foot-wide stream flowed. A hole was visible where a horse had been staked. And from there two sets of hoofprints led up the creek away from the river, to . . .
Where?
Two men shared the identical thought.
Where has my daughter been taken?
Jay provided the answer to a different question, a more important one. “See this break in the left edge of the hoof? Kind of a quarter-moon shape? That hoof is Warrior’s. Left front.”
He looked hard into the eyes of one father and then the other.
“Kanaka Boy has her.”
Part Five
Forty-four
“YOU’RE STAYING HERE,” Sam rasped out. He could barely keep from shouting. Rojo slid behind his mother.
“I’m going. She’s my daughter,” barked Flat Dog.
“Dammit!” Sam spun all the way around on his heels. “Dammit! You’ve got to stay here! You have a family to take of. A whole outfit.”
“You’re captain here. You take care of it, you and Hannibal.” Sam turned away and looked up at the North Star. The distant light had no guidance for him now.
“This is your wife. These are your other children. Three of them.”
Julia reached up and pulled Flat Dog’s hand. He sat down beside her.
“I’ll be ready at first light,” he declared.
Sam whirled on him. “I’m ordering you to stay here.”
“You don’t give me no goddamn orders.”
“I have to take care of her.”
“I did when you didn’t.”
“God awmighty.”
Sam strode to the edge of the light from the dwindling fire. He stared into the darkness. Somewhere out there things were happening to his daughter. He refused to imagine them.
He turned to the whole crew around the fire. Calmly, he said, “I’m going alone. End of—”
“My husband,” said Julia, “I am going to ask you something. Stay with us.”
Husband looked into wife’s ey
es, searching.
“Take us to California. Your wife and these children beside me. I ask you. We need you.”
Flat Dog couldn’t speak.
“Sam will do everything that can be done.”
Flat Dog dropped his head. “Goddamn,” he whispered. He squeezed Julia’s hand. “Yes,” he said.
Sam had never felt so relieved. He wished he could leave right now.
“But I’m going.”
Sam couldn’t believe the voice. He jerked his head toward Jay. “No way on earth,” he said.
“Yes, I will. The reason is simple. I know where Kanaka Boy is going. You don’t.”
“Jay is right,” said Hannibal.
Sam looked at his friend like he was a traitor.
“A ba’te on a war mission. If that doesn’t beat all.” Sam walked off. Time to give Paladin some water and cool himself off.
“You need to learn something,” called Jay.
He turned toward the man-woman in utter disgust.
Jay crossed his arms, grabbed the bottom edges of his deer hide shirt, and lifted it up to his neck. She held the shirt there for a long moment. Everyone saw, and her small breasts were worth showing off.
Sam took a long moment to recover speech. “A woman and a liar. Even worse.”
Lei played her trump card again. “I know where he’s going.”
“She’s right,” Hannibal said.
It took Sam a moment, staring at Lei, to wrap his mind around the word “she.”
“Something else. It isn’t Esperanza he wants. It’s me. He’ll never stop until he gets me.”
Lei let that sit and then added in a simple tone, “So this time I’m going to kill him.”
Forty-five
AT DAWN THE outfit rode out toward that notch in the mountains. “We’ll meet you in Monterey,” Sam told Flat Dog. “All three of us.”
When they were gone, Lei unhobbled her gelding and lifted her saddle onto his back.
“We better stay here,” Sam told her.