by S. L. Hawke
Mrs. Guild, Mrs. Harris, and Mrs. Margaret began to help Jaime and his sister, Jane, after their mother and father, while crossing the mountain two years earlier, died at the hands of thieves. Jaime and Jane’s parents had worked for a man named Cowell, taking mining supplies back and forth between New Almaden Mine and Santa Cruz. Jaime’s mother was also a cook in the hotel there. Both were shot in the chest for their wagon’s strongbox. The Sheriff claimed banditos did it, (Jaime never liked the way whites pronounced the word bandido, saying a ‘t’ sound where there was clearly a light voiced tap of the tongue) but Mrs. Guild, Mrs. Harris, and Mrs. Margaret didn’t believe it. Jaime didn’t know why they felt so strongly. When he asked them, they grew solemn and simply said: “Jaime, there is a war going on. That’s why your parents died.”
Jaime sent Wen to fetch Mrs. Guild as soon as Jane told Jaime she felt her back ache. Jane woke up with a back ache and threw up her breakfast as well. Wen had been gone a few hours now. Jaime went about his other job for Mrs. Guild, watching the ships pass the point. He could see any ship that passed the point from the long sward of green grass in front of their tiny fishing hut.
He wrote the time of day the ships had passed down in the fancy leather book Mrs. Guild had given Jane. Jaime did this with every detail he could muster, every day. He also practiced his reading, so that when Mrs. Guild and sometimes her sister, Mrs. Harris, would come he could show them. They always laughed and clapped their hands and returned with more books, a ham, a chicken, bread, and apples, keeping their larder as full as they could. They even brought a bed, and a desk and chamber pot.
Jaime never forgot the day all these angels came into his and his sister’s lives. He recalled that afternoon he had made his way to the Harris Boarding House to steal the fresh baked loaves off of Mrs. Harris’ back porch. He grabbed the loaves and ran right into a young “greaser” as he had often heard them called, a Latino boy named Juan Arana, son of old Juan Arana. Juan Arana the Younger quietly asked who Jaime was and why he was stealing. Jaime shook and started to cry. Juan Arana gave him a loaf and let him go.
Later that afternoon, Jaime was caught stealing wallets of men as they came out of the Red Salon. He found a well-dressed fancy man named Rufus Ingram and went for the man’s wallet. Rufus Ingram’s hair was short, his face cleanly shaven, and his eyes so pale brown, they looked like a dog’s. He grabbed Jaime and took his cane to him.
The first blow never came. Instead, young Juan Arana caught the cane and held it. The man let go of Jaime who ran, right into Mrs. Guild. Jaime never forgot what happened next.
As if the cane were a feather, the young Latino man plucked it from Rufus Ingram’s grasp.
“You cocksucking bastard. You’re dead,” Rufus Ingram growled. Juan simply bowed and handed Rufus Ingram his cane. He smiled, evilly. Jaime shouted at Juan to be careful. Ingram took the cane and turned on Juan. Juan did not move. Rufus Ingram raised the cane and lunged at Juan, who stepped aside as if it were just a country dance. After a few times of this, Rufus Ingram fell over, too drunk to do much else.
“Excuse me, sir,” Mrs. Guild announced rather loudly. “Are you wishing the services of my carriage driver?” Mrs. Guild strode by Juan and looked down at the red face of Rufus Ingram. He stood up and straightened in front of her. Jaime saw that Mrs. Guild was truly a guardian angel to stand so fearlessly in front of so terrible and dangerous a man.
“You should not let your slaves be so insolent, Miss—” He tried to smile but he was too drunk.
“Missus,” Mrs. Guild said with a sharpness that would cut skin. “Mrs. Jonathan Guild. Of Pajaro Township. And what might you be doing inside that Salon today, sir?”
“Jonathan Willis Guild?” Rufus Ingram’s voice waivered a bit.
“That’s right, sir.” Mrs. Guild stood straight and as tall as Rufus Ingram. He nodded. Jaime thought he looked afraid.
“You should get better slaves, Ma’am.” Rufus Ingram’s eyes never left Juan, and Jaime knew that young man might have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his days.
A crowd had gathered but Ingram pushed through it and Mrs. Guild put Jaime in Juan’s care.
“You can trust her,” young Juan said with a pat on Jaime’s shoulder. Then Juan pointed at the back of Rufus Ingram. “You’ve seen that bastard before, eh?” Juan said, looking after Rufus Ingram with deep intense hatred, just the way Jaime felt today. Jaime nodded.
“Well, some food, and yes, a BATH, and you tell your story, hmm?” Juan again patted Jaime’s shoulder gently, not unlike what Mrs. Guild had done.
After he ate his fill at the table of Mrs. Harris, Jaime told Mrs. Guild the story of how Rufus Ingram beat his sister.
After that, the ladies came to visit them. Sometimes his sister would go out with them, or do embroideries and learn her letters. When her belly had started to grow, she stayed at the hut, weaving baskets or reading books. She had the leather journal, the one that Jaime used now, to write things in about how many ships went by their hut. She used to do what Jaime did now, draw a picture, carefully, and Jane would make lines and fill in words like “water line mark” or “extra passengers” or “crates tied to deck.”
Juan gave them a spyglass. When Jane looked through it while watching a ship pass, she saw Rufus Ingram in it. She threw up. She would not look in it again. She cried instead, and gave Jaime the journal for his very own.
Mrs. Harris said the visits were “their duty to the community.” Jaime didn’t know what that meant, but sometimes Juan, Mrs. Guild and Mrs. Harris would talk in whispers about a war that split people in two and how the Grey Coats were getting help from bad men here, men like Rufus Ingram and Tom Poole who would stop at nothing to get supplies for the Grey Coats. Jaime overheard the women whisper one night, when they thought he was asleep in the kitchen.
“There is a secret meeting of the Knights of the Golden Circle up at the Masons’ Hall. They paid cash. When Henry found out what they were planning, he backed up the fireplace and smoked them out,” Mrs. Harris whispered quickly.
“What was it they were up to?” Mrs. Guild sounded serious and worried.
“Henry overheard that they were planning to assassinate the President when he comes to inspect the mine over in the Valley. Only AFTER they got their supplies! Imagine! They’ve built a ship, fully armed, and are preparing to ship our lumber, our beef, our eggs,” Mrs. Harris was huffing loudly. Her tea cup clanked against its saucer.
“We need A.J.,” Mrs. Margaret said in her gentle kind way. Mrs. Margaret had given Jaime a place in her home to sleep that night and Eugene, her son, was Jaime’s new friend.
“No, we can deal with this on our own,” Mrs. Guild answered firmly. Ay jay. What a strange name, Jaime thought. Sometimes both Mrs. Guild and Mrs. Harris would shed tears over A.J. and how their letters to him were not answered. Who was this person they spoke of? Jaime needed to find out. Mrs. Margaret would tell him. So he asked.
Ayjay was short for Andrew Jackson, Mrs. Margaret told him. Mrs. Guild, Mrs. Harris, and Mrs. Margaret liked to call their brother “Jack” because they were older than him. But he prefers A.J., Mrs. Margaret had said as she sat on the rocks near the cliff one day. Her children, Miss Pastoria and Eugene, joined her, Eugene quick to show Jaime how to bend metal into fish hooks and make levers that lifted heavy objects without help.
Why Jack, Jaime asked. They called him Jack because he was like the rhyme: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Mrs. Margaret said, then leaned towards Jaime and whispered: “He answers every letter I write. It’s our secret, because Cynthia and Sophia don’t approve of A.J.’s marriage to a foreigner.” Mrs. Margaret looked out to sea as she was speaking about her brother.
“That is what A.J. is, nimble of mind, and even quicker with answers.” Mrs. Margaret loved her older brother, that much was plain, even to Jaime. “I won’t be seeing you for a while, Jaime. But Pastoria will come in my place. I hope that meets with your approval.” Jaime nodded, afraid he had done
something wrong to send Mrs. Margaret away, but Miss Pastoria rolled her beautiful grey eyes, crossed her thin arms in front of her, and said simply: “Mama cares for many, as well as our farm. Papa wants her to stay near the house these days. When you come for dinner, you’ll see.” Jaime’s heart did a funny flutter when Miss Pastoria said this. No one had cared to have him come to their home before. Miss Pastoria and her brother, Eugene, had a life Jaime used to have, before his mother and father died, a life he had forgotten and could no longer imagine.
Jaime also couldn’t imagine what kind of war had started, but he did know that men in grey coats were bad and that the worst Grey Coat of them all was Rufus Ingram and his friend, Tom Poole. “Jack would know what to do with all this Union/Confederate foolishness!” Mrs. Guild would hiss.
“He’d go and get himself killed and you know it, Cynthia,” Mrs. Harris would answer each time Mrs. Guild made this complaint. Then she would fill Mrs. Guild’s plate high with lemon pie. She’d follow this with an equally big plate for Jaime. “You know how he is when he thinks someone should pay for the wrongs they committed.” Mrs. Guild would always give her plate of pie to Jaime.
Sometimes Mrs. Margaret would come and pour tea. That was when Jaime would have sitting time with Miss Pastoria. She always had something to say about her mother’s mysterious brother. “Uncle A.J. would do what’s right even if it cost him his life,” she would whisper to Jaime.
Mrs. Margaret said the exact same thing. “A.J. would do the right thing regardless of his own safety.”
“Oh for Providence’s sake, Margie. You know full well, Jack would just ride them down and God knows what—”
“Yes, and that’s why he’s much better off where he is.” Mrs. Guild would always include a hand wave with her words and push away the pie. “Otherwise our precious Uriah might get the same funny ideas in his head.” Mrs. Guild would turn to Mrs. Margaret as if to challenge her younger sister. Mrs. Margaret would smile slightly and always say: “Uriah, like A.J., has his own mind about things.”
And this would always silence the other women. Mrs. Margaret would smile victoriously to herself. Pastoria would see that Jaime understood what was said and wink at him. Jaime then understood that he loved Pastoria with all his heart.
In the balmy evenings when her mother and aunts were cleaning the hut and educating Jane, Miss Pastoria would help Jaime with the building of fish ponds.
“I saw them in Hawaii once, when I was a guest at the house of Queen Emma.” Miss Pastoria always held herself straight, as if she were a queen herself. Then she would giggle again and join Jaime in his work, making a set of billowy trousers with her skirts. She helped Jaime stack rocks to make deep pools to keep fish in until they were ready to eat. She would tell stories of the balmy nights of Hawaii and the warm ocean water and then she would sit down and read her uncle A.J.’s letters to him. A.J., as he preferred to be called, Miss Pastoria reminded Jaime, was far away in Japan, hoping to help encourage trade between the two nations. Jaime loved Miss Pastoria’s stories and imagined her uncle A.J. as a gunfighter. And sometimes, Jaime would imagine that it would be A.J. who could kill off Ingram and make him pay for all the pain he gave to his sister, Jane.
A.J.’s letters to Mrs. Margaret were Jaime and Miss Pastoria’s secret. Jaime guarded it with his life. In return Miss Pastoria taught Jaime his letters and a fancy way to write them too because one day, Miss Pastoria would say in her breathy voice, “you’ll want to write a letter to someone you love.” Yes, Jaime thought, I want to write that letter to you.
Until Wen returned, Jaime made himself watch for the phantom ships. Early that morning an unknown ship came south, fast, as if her holds were empty. She was shabby and flew no flag. He made a note in the journal. Through the spy glass, Jaime saw Rufus Ingram on deck and silently, through the looking glass, vowed to kill him. That afternoon the ship went north, heavy in the water. Jaime saw crates, and cattle, and a different man check a paper list. He watched their faces and could read their lips.
“…blockade…Southern…troops…..supplies needed…”
His sister’s scream came from inside the hut. Jaime ran back to her and came inside. He saw that she was crouched over in her nightgown. There was warm, smelly, gooey water and some pale streaks of blood all over the stone floor. Jane clutched the metal bed post with one frail hand and the other held her large belly.
“The baby’s starting to come!!!” She was crying and Jaime prayed with all his might that Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Guild would come, with the Chinese doctor. The Chinese doctor took fish every time she visited and Jaime always had enough, thanks to Miss Pastoria.
Would she use needles on Jane? They didn’t hurt. Jaime even tried the needles once and they made his cold go away. He prayed hard that the doctor would come with those magic needles.
Jaime helped his sister to her sagging bed. A tremble started beneath his feet. A wagon was drawing near. Juan and Mrs. Guild came through the door. He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed a bucket and went back out to get water. Jaime saw that his sister was crying. Jaime started to as well. Mrs. Guild put her warm gloved hands on his shoulders.
“Com’ on now, Jaime. Let’s have some sandwiches. Let the women do their work.” She turned him away, just as the Chinese doctor came through with Juan close behind carrying a full bucket. Jaime turned and looked around once more, and wondered why Juan was allowed to stay. Then he saw with relief that the doctor placed the magic needles in his sister’s neck. Jane seemed to relax, but Jaime saw no more.
“Well Jaime, what have you been seeing in the ocean today?” Mrs. Guild smiled warmly and gave him a sandwich so thick with ham he couldn’t help but stuff his mouth. She didn’t scold him for his manners. She waited until he swallowed, drank milk from a stone jar she had also brought, and swallowed again. He fought a burp.
“The ship came back. HE was on it,” Jaime said, then turned back at the hut when he heard a grunting and yelling from his sister that made his hair stand up with fear. Mrs. Guild tapped his hand lightly.
“Who was that, Jaime? Which he?”
“That man, Rufus Ingram.” Jaime ate more but the taste of smoked ham seemed far away. He thought back to that day Rufus Ingram came.
Rufus Ingram had come to their hut once to look at the sea. Then he saw Jane hanging out their laundry. Jane had blushed at Rufus Ingram’s attentions. Jaime saw that Rufus Ingram treated her like a lady, but a few days later when he returned, Rufus Ingram dragged his sister into the hut and locked the door. Jane screamed, but not like now, and sobbed. Jaime crawled through the window to see Rufus Ingram laying on top of his sister like the men in the Red Salon do, and he grabbed at him. Rufus Ingram got off his sister and, his penis covered in blood, picked Jaime up as if he were a piece of driftwood and threw him out the window. Jaime fell on the rocks, stunned to stillness.
They were in the hut a long time. When Jaime finally was able to crawl back in, his sister was curled up in the corner bloody and weeping, her left cheek purple and her eye swollen shut.
All of this happened nine months ago.
“Was the boat heavy or light or did it come this way light and go away heavy?” Mrs. Guild was frowning at him, but not AT him. She was just worried about the news.
“Yes. It looked full up of crates, and a man was reading a list.” Jaime could tell by the way Mrs. Guild was watching him that she knew what was on the boat.
“This next question—” A yell, like the growl of some animal, came from the hut. Mrs. Guild took a deep breath then looked at Jaime again with her dark eyes. “This next question is very important, Jaime.” Mrs. Guild folded her gloved hands together. “Was it the same boat?”
It was, so Jaime nodded. The yell changed to a scream, one of rage. Women’s voices were encouraging Jane to push something. Then there was some silence, but Jaime could hear exclamations of happy words.
A wail like a goat’s came from the hut.
Juan came ou
t, plunged his hands into a nearby bucket, and splashed his face. Jaime thought for a moment. Women’s voices, but only the doctor was a woman. Let the women do their work.
Jaime smiled when he understood Juan’s secret.
“Well?” Mrs. Guild stood also but she was not smiling.
“A boy.” Juan wiped his small hands on a dry clean rag. Jaime could tell Juan wanted to talk with Mrs. Guild so Jaime went inside the hut to see if his sister were okay. The Chinese doctor smiled and bowed.
“I have fish and that special kind you like with the leathery skin down in my pond,” Jaime said in perfect Mandarin. The Chinese doctor patted his head.
“She’s okay. Strong. Thanks to the Rich Ladies. Any sickness later, you get me. Okay?” the doctor said. Jaime nodded.
He saw his sister looking flushed but happy. She held a tiny, ugly baby in her arms.
“He’s beautiful,” Jane said, tears running down the end of her nose. Jaime didn’t think so.
He didn’t think so at all.
1863
Letters Never Sent
San Francisco Bay, California
Boom…. I sat up. Sleep still tugged at me.
“Papa!” My son grabbed at my chest, his eyes wide with fear. I reached for his arms in reassurance. It was early morning and light outside. The ship we were on was out of Honolulu, to San Francisco. Trying to get free of the bunk, my head hit the beam and my hat dropped off. I must have gone to sleep with it.
“Ow!” I growled. Hiru giggled, making me smile. Then I swore, quietly, in Japanese instead of English. The language conveyed more obscenity at my situation than English did.