by Mona Ingram
“Being independent and loving a man.” Lucy nodded to herself. “Find the right man, and you can do both. Not every man wants to control his woman.” She ducked her head. “All right, most of them do, but not all. I can’t offer any guarantees, but I think Jamie is one of those men who admire independence in a woman.” She paused for a moment. “And you think so too, or you wouldn’t care for him. It’s something most women know instinctively. Mind you, some gravitate toward the wrong man every time, but you’re not one of them, in the same way that Jamie isn’t one of those men.”
“Wow. You’ve really thought this out.”
Lucy softened her tone. “I’ve had a few more years of experience than you, Sarah. I’ve come to realize that we women spend too much of our lives, and expend too much energy pleasing other people. We need to learn to please ourselves somewhere in the mix, or we become empty shells.”
Sarah gave a nervous little laugh. “I didn’t know you were a philosopher.”
Lucy accepted the comment with her usual good humor. “Not a philosopher, my dear. A woman who’s a keen observer of human nature.”
Sarah stopped working, and looked affectionately at the other woman. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Lucy Davis. I wish you could meet my mother. You’d like her.”
“I’m sure I would.” Lucy dabbed at her eye with a corner of her apron. “Something in my eye,” she said, her voice suddenly husky. “Come on, let’s get this crate unpacked and then we’ll see what we can round up for supper.”
As items were unpacked, Sarah became aware of the immense amount of planning Lucy must have put into her packing. Everything that was necessary to start a household was carefully tucked into the crate. As though to confirm Sarah’s opinion, the last item in the crate was a broom. Sarah chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?” Lucy was re-arranging her spice cans.
“I’m laughing at your organizational skills.” She glanced at the kitchen floor. “You knew that by the time you finished unpacking, the floor would be littered. I’m impressed.”
Lucy blushed. “Thank you, my dear. I put a lot of thought into it.”
“Well, it’s paid off.” The room had been transformed into a functioning kitchen that contained everything necessary to produce a meal.
Lucy examined the scant foodstuffs Charlie had purchased in anticipation of his wife’s arrival. “Hmmm,” she said. “There seems to be plenty of canned beef, and a few carrots and onions, but not much else is fresh.” She produced a loaf of bread from her carpetbag. “Levi sent me off with this loaf from the ship. Why don’t we make a stew with whatever we can find, and use the bread?” She walked into the living area and looked out over the city. “One of my first priorities will be to learn where to buy fresh food.” She turned to Sarah. “But I’m ready for the challenge. What about you?”
Nervous laughter bubbled up into Sarah’s throat. “I don’t have much choice.” She gave her head a bewildered shake. “You know, I scarcely remember anything about the drive here. Going through town, with all those people. Everybody seemed to be rushing somewhere, and many of them looked like they hadn’t washed their clothes in months.”
“I’ve heard that it can be cheaper to buy a new shirt than pay to get one washed. And that some men send their shirts to China to be laundered, because they can’t afford the local prices.”
Sarah watched for a sign of her friend’s quirky sense of humor. “Are you making that up?”
“No, it’s true. This is a place of extremes.”
“I’m beginning to see that, and I’ve been here less than a day. I hope Charlie can give me some advice tonight about where to live.”
* * *
Charlie Davis patted his stomach and looked from Sarah to his wife. “Thank you, ladies. I’d almost forgotten what a good home-cooked meal tastes like.”
Lucy gave one of her small snorts. “I’ll cook you a proper meal when I learn where to buy food.”
Charlie sighed. “It’s nothing like shopping in Boston. You learn to be aware of what comes in on the ships and if it’s something you use, buy a good supply. As you could see in the pantry, most things are canned or dried, but people seem to make do.”
Lucy frowned. “What about fresh vegetables? I realize that it’s late in the year, but surely fresh vegetables are available in season.”
Charlie shook his head. “Not a lot, but a few things are brought in from the Sacramento area. Plus, some of our fruits and vegetables are brought up on ships from Chile.” He warmed to his subject. “Potatoes, for example. I heard of a man paying half an ounce for a baked potato.”
“Half an ounce of gold? That’s...” Lucy lifted her hands. “How much?”
“Eight dollars.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped open. It wasn’t often that the woman was nonplussed, and Sarah hid her smile. “That’s preposterous! What about the local farmers?”
“My dear, this place was sparsely populated before the gold-seekers arrived. It was Mexican territory until two years ago, and Mexican cuisine doesn’t feature a lot of potatoes.”
“What about the...” She turned to Sarah and fluttered a hand in the air. “...what did Jamie call it... a rancho? What about the ranchos?”
Charlie shrugged. “They grow for their own use, and they sell to the miners up on the American, but not much gets sent down here.”
Sarah leaned forward. “The American?”
“Yes. The American River.”
She tried to absorb this new information, but it was as though she had stepped into a different time and place, where nothing was familiar. In a way, she supposed she had. She looked into the distance, processing what Charlie had said. “And even if a man could make a profit growing potatoes, I would imagine that that the ones who came here to make their fortunes in the goldfields would feel they were admitting failure if they started to farm.”
“Precisely. And that goes for the forty-niners who are still arriving, even though the easy pickings of the early days are a thing of the past.” He lit an after-dinner cigar.
“A few have already given up.” His head was wreathed in cigar smoke. “And once they realize that they aren’t going to get rich, too many of them drink or gamble away any remaining gold they have. Then, of course, they can’t afford to pay for passage back home... that is if they can find a ship.”
“Couldn’t they offer to work as crewmen? I hear that many of the ships can’t leave because there aren’t enough men to sail them.”
Charlie shot her an appreciative look. “That’s true, but they know nothing about sailing, and it can be dangerous. Most captains want experienced hands going around the Cape.”
Lucy shuddered. “I can understand why.” She rose. “I’ll get the teapot. Charlie, why don’t you fill Sarah in on the housing situation.”
“Ah, yes.” A small frown took up residence between his brows as he studied Sarah. “What had you thought you would do to support yourself?” He glanced at her ring. “Or are you recently widowed, and haven’t thought that far ahead?”
Sarah twisted her mother’s ring. “I was never married, Charlie. But posing as a married woman seemed like a good idea, until Lucy pointed out that there was actually no man at the end of the voyage to meet me. So I became a widow.”
“I see.” He grew thoughtful.
Sarah hurried on, lest he get the wrong impression. She edged forward on her chair. “I’m not afraid to work. As a matter of fact, I’ve always wanted to prove myself.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Lucy helped me to realize that. I worked alongside my father, who’s a knowledgeable physician, but I’m not a licensed physician. Even so, I know a lot about medicine, and I would feel confident offering my services in non-life threatening situations.”
Charlie looked around, as though afraid someone might hear him, then tapped the ash from his cigar. “Probably do a damned sight better than a lot of the charlatans who hang out a shingle and call themselves doctors. There’s no system in place to
check their credentials.” He puffed furiously. “And the hospital! Those who can pay are placed on the top floor, but I’ve heard that even up there it smells like a cesspool. The lower floors, where the indigent people are cared for is a disgrace.” He stopped and caught his breath.
Lucy bustled into the room. “Charlie, you’ll scare the poor girl half to death with talk like that.”
“No, I’m fascinated.”
Lucy brushed aside Sarah’s words. “Be that as it may, we need to discuss finding somewhere for Sarah to live.” She turned her attention to her husband. “What about a boarding house?”
“No. Definitely not.” He sat back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. Sarah found that she was almost breathless as she waited to hear what he would say.
“There are very few women here,” he started. “When you go out, you’ll discover that women here are revered. Even the soiled doves are treated with respect when they venture out during the day.” He let out a discreet cough.
“Charlie!”
Charlie shot a frustrated glance at his wife. “She has to hear this, Lucy, if she’s going to make it on her own.”
Sarah watched the exchange with interest. Charlie turned back to her.
“But it’s also a rough town, Sarah. Especially at night. And on Sundays... a day you’d think might be a day of worship or rest, is anything but. Most of the men take the day off. They get drunk, and gamble, and...” his voice trailed off. “Well, they do what men do.”
“Boarding houses offer no privacy for a single woman. The rooms, if you can call them that, are small. The walls are made of canvas. Very little or no privacy.” His gaze held Sarah’s. “Definitely not a place for you.”
Sarah was aware of Charlie studying her as she absorbed this information. His words were disappointing, but she sensed that he had more to say.
“Pardon me for being indelicate, my dear, but do you have any money?”
Sarah looked to Lucy, who merely shrugged.
“Yes, I have a little over twenty thousand dollars.”
Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty thousand. That puts us in an entirely different position.” He glared at his cigar, which had had the audacity to go out.
He re-lit the cigar, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “So,” he said eventually. “You might be in the market for a house of some sort.” He thought for a moment. “Did you think you might start a business? If so, then the location would make a difference.”
Sarah glanced at Lucy. “Tell him,” she urged.
“Well, yes. I thought I might try making Cornish pasties.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a meat pie, for lack of a better description.” She glanced at Lucy again. “They’re delicious, but what’s more important, a man can eat them out of his hand. They’re completely portable.”
A small smile played around Charlie’s lips. “Interesting. I don’t suppose you’d like a partner?” He caught his wife glaring at him. “Not that I think you’ll need one,” he muttered, serious again.
“I have the perfect place for you. The young man purchased it from me two months ago, in anticipation of his wife’s arrival, but she got cholera in one of the outbreaks on a wagon train. Killed her and her unborn child.” His eyes became suddenly bright and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “The young fellow was desperate to leave and go home. He said he’d take whatever I offered him, but I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of his misfortune, so I paid him what he paid me.” He paused to think for a moment. “Even so, it’s worth twice what I paid him.”
“Charlie Davis!” Lucy’s eyes flashed. “If it’s within Sarah’s budget, you’ll sell it to her for what you paid.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise, my dear.”
Lucy settled down, reminding Sarah of a hen who had been disturbed on her nest.
Sarah turned back to Charlie. “The poor man. Do people often die of cholera on the way out?”
He nodded. “Too often. Even the groups who hire a doctor to travel with them sometimes lose people. It’s one of the dangers of the overland route, among others.”
“I had no idea.” She felt guilty taking advantage of someone else’s bad luck, but it sounded like the perfect solution to her housing dilemma. “You said he bought it in anticipation of his wife’s arrival. What were her plans?”
“Ah, yes. She was going to take in boarders, and since she was going to be cooking for them, she also planned to sell food. You’ll find a few women doing the same. The upstairs of this particular house has been divided into sleeping cubicles, and there’s also a small tent on the property where he lived while the house was being built. They planned to use it as an eating house, in addition to the inside dining room.”
“You’re right. It sounds perfect.” Sarah looked toward the window and was surprised to see that darkness had fallen. “When can I see it?”
“First thing tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Pale sunshine filtered tentatively through the clouds as Charlie drove them straight down Montgomery Street the next morning. “My office is in the next block,” he said, turning up Pacific Street, then left on Kearney, headed for the Plaza. “And this is Portsmouth Square.”
Sarah didn’t know where to look. The muddy plaza was bustling with people who all seemed to be going somewhere in a hurry. She could make out several foreign languages being spoken, and as she stared into the mass of humanity, she became aware of the variety of native dress on the men. The one constant seemed to be mud, and she gave silent thanks that she’d brought her boots.
“It’s a busy place,” she observed as Charlie guided his wagon carefully around the perimeter of the plaza.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, then turned to acknowledge a greeting from two prosperous-looking men. “It’s a bit wild yet, but it’s much better than when I arrived.”
Sarah and Lucy exchanged glances, but said nothing.
Away from the hustle and bustle of the plaza, the streets took on a semblance of order. Wooden buildings, some of dubious quality, sat side-by-side with tents. Based on what Charlie had told them, Sarah accepted that any private accommodation was preferable to the boarding houses.
Sarah recognized what she was already thinking of as her place when they were half a block away. A tent occupied the area close to the street, and a sturdy-looking house sat farther back on the lot.
“This is it,” said Charlie.
Sarah looked the property over from the safety of the wagon. Even here, the streets hadn’t dried after an overnight rain. “What street is this?” she asked.
“Sacramento Street,” he said, and pointed back toward the bay. “Your friend’s office is two and a half blocks in that direction.”
“My friend?” Sarah felt a blush creep up her neck. “Oh, you mean Jamie.”
“Right.” Charlie got down and offered his hand to Lucy, who had been surprisingly quiet. “Let’s go and I’ll show you around the inside.”
The house was well equipped. A large kitchen contained two cook stoves opposite a work table. Cooking utensils, plates, mugs, forks... everything she could anticipate that she might need. A large pantry had yet to be stocked, but it contained a surprisingly wide supply of spices and salt.
Sarah trailed her fingers over the spice containers and turned to Charlie. “It’s so well equipped. How could he possibly have bought all of this equipment here?”
Charlie shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, but I’ve heard of that many enterprising young people are buying equipment from stranded ships.” He sent a quick glance in the direction of the harbor. “Some of them have been torn apart for their lumber, and some have been dragged up onto land where they serve many purposes.”
Sarah nodded to herself. “I suppose someone might as well make use of these things.”
The upstairs had been divided into decent-sized cubicles; Sarah counted eight. “I’m not sure if I’d feel comforta
ble taking in boarders, but the house solves both of my problems. Somewhere to live, and a business all in one location. I must say it’s perfect.” She looked to Lucy for agreement.
“Where will you sleep?” Ever practical, Lucy addressed what Sarah had been wondering.
“Oh.” Charlie strode through the kitchen and opened a door. “There’s a room here. It’s not large, but I think they were going to share it.” He rattled the handle. “Plus it locks.”
Sarah examined the space. A bed was shoved into a corner, flanked by a wash stand and a wardrobe. “It’s all I need,” she said, breathless now that the decision was at hand. “I’ll buy it.”
Charlie gave a brisk nod. “Good decision. Come, we’ll go to my office and sign the papers.”
* * *
“Congratulations, my dear.” Charlie handed her a surprisingly slim file of papers and a key. “You are now the proud owner of a home on Sacramento Street.”
Sarah looked at the papers without really seeing them. “I still feel badly about the circumstances, but someone was going to buy it if I didn’t, right?”
Charlie leaned back in his chair. “It would have been sold by the end of the day, I assure you.”
Sarah tucked the papers in her bag. “Then I’ve done the right thing.”
Charlie nodded. “This whole gold mining business is fraught with danger. Just last week, a young man had a terrible accident up on the American. He’d invested what remained of his money with a company that was building a flume. During construction, he was hit on the head with a timber, fell into the water and drowned.” Charlie shook his head. “That in itself isn’t so unusual, but this young fellow’s wife and daughter are due to arrive at any moment. And the wife is close to having another child.”
Apprehension clawed at Sarah’s gut. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again. “What was his name?”
“I don’t know. It really doesn’t...” Charlie looked from Sarah to his wife and the blood drained from his face. “You think she might have been on WindSprite?”