The Forever Tree

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Senor Lassater, I am told.” The Spaniard was close now, holding out his hand, and Will realized another woman had come on board too. She was young and attractive, but not dressed as elegantly as the one in yellow, nor nearly as pretty. “I am Don Hugo Eduardo Martinez Bolivar. You have already met my buyer, Hector Munoz.”

  Will shook the man’s hand, which felt thin and cold. “I have, but I haven’t yet made up my mind to whom I will sell my lumber. I am interested, however, in getting it off this ship and storing it. I hear you have several warehouses nearby.”

  “That I do.” The man turned to the young woman in yellow. “Pardon, mi querida. I should introduce you.” He turned back to Will. “I would not ordinarily come to the docks myself, but my novia—I believe you Americans call your intended fiancée—she is getting to know the city, as she will live here once we are married. She is from a wealthy family that owns a hacienda next to my own northeast of San Francisco. She enjoys seeing the big ships, as she does not see such things in the country. I have my guards along because she is so beautiful and I want to give her full protection. There are many men on these docks who would try to make off with such a mujer bella. I am sure that you agree she is the most beautiful senorita in all of California.”

  He turned to the woman, smiling. “This is my bride to be, Santana Maria Chavez Lopez. Her father is one of the richest landowners in California. This fine woman with Santana is her chaperon and tutor, Estella Joaquin.”

  Will nodded to both women, and he found himself struggling not to stare at the one called Santana. Fiancée? She looked so young. Was this one of those arranged marriages he had heard about? When Hugo Bolivar smiled at her, she did not smile back. Her eyes shifted to Will again, and she closed her fan and smiled when he nodded to her. Then she quickly and demurely looked away, opening the fan over her face again. Will turned back to Hugo, realizing there was something about the Spaniard that he did not like, but he couldn’t figure what it was. It simply disturbed him that the sweet young lady with him did not seem at all happy with Hugo’s attention.

  “I am honored to meet you and your intended, Don Bolivar,” he answered, deciding the man’s relationship with his fiancée was not his business. He needed to remain on friendly terms with such men for the present. “And you are right. Senorita Lopez is indeed the most beautiful woman in all of California.” What did it matter that he had not even been off the ship yet? He didn’t need to see the rest of the women in this state to know that none could compare to Santana Lopez. He had a feeling that a man like Hugo Bolivar would be offended if he stared at the senorita for too long, so he forced himself to keep his attention on Hugo. “And what brings you to speak personally with me?” he asked.

  Hugo smiled rather arrogantly. “Senor Munoz tells me you have brought a fine supply of lumber from Maine. I thought that since I was close, I would come on board and see it for myself.”

  “And I in turn am happy to meet an honored Californio,” Will answered. He felt Senorita Lopez watching him again, but he kept his eyes averted. “Your buyer has told me all about you, and he says you will give me fifty cents for every board of lumber below and five dollars a barrel for my maple syrup.”

  “Si, that is a fair price,” Hugo answered. “And you would not have to pay a storage fee.”

  Will folded his arms. “And you know that I am fresh here from New England. You think that I am unfamiliar with what is going on in California.”

  Hugo frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been shipping lumber here from Maine for three years now, Don Bolivar,” Will said. “I know damn well what it’s worth, and I could pay you fifty cents a board to store my lumber in your warehouse and still make a profit when I sell it to someone else. Actually, I’ve already been offered more than a dollar a board. All I’m doing now is taking names and offers. I haven’t decided yet where to sell my lumber. I can tell you one thing, though, it’s some of the finest you’ll ever see—nice and straight, good hardwood from Maine. I’ve been in the logging business all my life, and I know which lumber is the best you can get, and that’s Lassater lumber. I also know that my syrup is worth ten times what your buyer offered me. Maple syrup is a rare treat out here.”

  Hugo appeared taken aback at being turned down, and Santana felt a secret joy at the disconcerted look on his face. It was not often any man stood up to Hugo. She liked this gringo with his sandy-colored hair and beautiful blue eyes. He had a handsome smile, and he looked very strong. She had never seen a man with such powerful-looking arms.

  Hugo’s eyes narrowed. “Who has offered you more than a dollar a board?”

  “I won’t say his name. All I can say is it’s a buyer from one of the gold towns that’s growing fast and needs lumber for building homes.”

  Hugo stroked his mustache for a moment. “Let me see this lumber.”

  “Fine.” Will turned to the side and let Hugo walk in front of him. He glanced at Senorita Lopez again, and she smiled bashfully. He took note that she was taller than most women, perhaps only four or five inches shorter than he, when most women he knew were closer to a foot shorter. There was an air of privilege and dignity about her, but not haughtiness. He could see she was full of questions, but it was probably considered too forward for her to speak to a stranger. He needed to learn more about Spanish ways so that he did not accidentally insult or offend people like Senorita Lopez or Don Bolivar.

  He and Hugo descended into the ship’s hold, which was rich with the sweet smell of fresh lumber. Some of it had gotten wet in the storm and had never completely dried. “A few boards at the bottom are probably warped from the dampness, but the rest are intact,” he told Hugo.

  “Hmmm.” Hugo held his chin thoughtfully. “And why do you come all the way to California yourself this time, Senor Lassater?”

  Will leaned against a post. “I intend to stay, open a mill here, try logging some of your California redwood. We’re getting low on timber back east, and with the demand like it is out here and such a vast supply of wood, I figured I’d see how I could do in California. Apparently there isn’t much logging going on here yet, what with everyone’s attention on the gold and on supplying the gold towns with food and such. You’re farming grain and fruit, and providing horses, mules, tools, clothing, and such to the miners. But no one is paying any attention to the millions of acres of forest you have out here.”

  Hugo nodded. “So, you want to open a mill.” He studied the lumber a moment longer, realizing Will Lassater did indeed know good quality. He faced him then. “I will make you a deal,” he said. “I will buy this lumber for ninety cents a board and there will be no charge for storage, since it will be in my own warehouses until I get my own best offer from the gold towns. I will also buy your syrup for fifty dollars a barrel. You will make a little less, but I will make up for it by telling you where you can find the finest trees in northern California. I can guarantee you will be allowed to rent the land for harvesting the trees.”

  “Your property?” Will asked.

  “Some of it. I own a very big rancho in the hills, Senor Lassater, about three days’ ride from here. My land adjoins the hacienda of Don Dominic Alcala, Senorita Lopez’s father. He has much more timber than I. There is a river at the western edge of his land that runs to the ocean, where you could set up your sawmill and where flatboats could pick up the lumber and take it to San Francisco.”

  Will frowned. “Why are you so willing to help me find what I’m looking for?”

  Hugo grinned. “For a profit, of course. Rental of my land and a piece of the profits. I happen to think you have a very good idea. I have often thought there is surely a great profit to be made lumbering our own timber, but there are not many men who know how to do it.” He studied Will’s muscled arms. “I like a shrewd businessman, and I can see that you are very capable. It will take a man of strength and experience to log our giant trees, and you apparently have both. My buyer has told me that your family has run a sawmill
back in Maine for many years. Much lumber has been shipped here from the East, but never has a true lumberman come with it.” Hugo folded his arms. “So? What do you say? I have men who can get your lumber off this ship today, and the day after tomorrow I can come for you and you can follow us to La Estancia de Alcala. I have to take Senorita Lopez home then. I am presently courting her, getting to know her better, allowing her to know me and learn about my many holdings. I have a home here in San Francisco, built in your own American Gothic style. I own many businesses here, many warehouses. My own rancho, next to Don Alcala’s, is called Rancho de Rosas. We can talk terms on the way.”

  “How do you know Don Alcala will go along with it?”

  A look of pompous sureness came into Hugo’s eyes. “I will take care of Don Alcala,” he said. “He knows that I am a good businessman, and I am, after all, marrying his daughter. One day his hacienda will belong to me. Anything that helps La Estancia de Alcala now helps me in the future. And if you do business with me, you will make a fortune, which I am sure is what you came out here to do.”

  “That’s right, but I won’t be owned by any man,” Will said. “I’ll want a contract that gives me the freedom to log whatever parts of the land I see fit, and to conduct my business in my own way. The mill will be solely mine, and all profits will go first into my name, after which I’ll pay out whatever percentage we agree to. I will have the final say in what is fair to pay.”

  Hugo’s eyebrows arched. “You are no fool, Senor Lassater.”

  “That’s right.”

  Their eyes held with a hint of challenge, then Hugo smiled. “Fine. I would suggest that if you want to stay away from the scum of the wharves and keep from being beaten and robbed, you should stay at the Golden Palace Hotel in the better part of San Francisco. Anyone can tell you how to get there. I will come for you there the day after tomorrow, around nine A.M. I will pay you then for your lumber and the syrup. I am sure you have come with much more money than what you will get for this shipload of lumber.”

  Will grinned. “Much more. I intend to spend the next couple of days looking for men I can train to help me, maybe find a few who already know about the lumber business. It won’t be easy to get a good crew going, and I probably won’t be able to start logging until next spring. I have a few things to learn myself, and a mill to build. I am eager, though, to see those trees. I’ve heard a lot about the redwoods, how big they are.”

  “The biggest in the world, some say. You will see for yourself soon enough.”

  Will put out his hand. “It’s a deal, then. Ninety cents a board and fifty dollars for each barrel of syrup. How about throwing in free storage of the equipment I brought with me? Until I decide where to construct my mill, I’ll have to put it somewhere. I have more equipment coming in about two months on another ship.”

  Hugo nodded. “I will store it for you. Tomorrow I will have Senor Munoz come to your hotel and show you my warehouses.”

  “I appreciate that.” They shook hands, and Will told himself to be wary. Something in the man’s eyes said Hugo Bolivar could not be trusted. He wondered about the man’s remark that his fiancée was there to get to know him better. If she did not know him so well, why was she marrying him? Was it a marriage of convenience, one in which she had no choice? Or was she marrying him for his money? She seemed too young to care about such things. Girls that age usually married for love and passion; and besides, she apparently already had money.

  He followed Hugo back up to the deck, where the man’s intended wife and her escort were holding tin cups under a spigot on one of the barrels. Derek opened the spigot, and both women laughed with delight as syrup flowed into their cups. They tasted it and exclaimed over its sweetness.

  Santana turned as they approached, and instead of greeting her fiancée, she looked at Will. “Your syrup is wonderful, Senor Lassater. I have never tasted anything like it.” She looked at Hugo. “You must buy a barrel and take it back with us, Hugo. It is most delightful!” She handed him her cup, and Hugo took a taste of the syrup.

  “Si, es mucho delicioso,” he said with a grin. “I will most certainly have my men bring a wagon along to haul a barrel back to La Estancia de Alcala for my beloved.”

  Will watched the smile leave Santana’s face, as though the moment was spoiled by the reminder that she was to marry Hugo Bolivar. She handed the cup to Derek and covered her face with her fan again.

  “I have made a deal with Senor Lassater,” Hugo told her, “to allow him to come back with us to your father’s hacienda and have a look at his many hundreds of acres of fine redwoods. He is here to stay. He wishes to build a sawmill and harvest the trees.”

  Santana glanced at Will, and he wondered if it was just wishful thinking that made him sure he saw a look of delight in her eyes. He reminded himself that this woman was the intended wife of one of the richest Spaniards in these parts, a man who could probably be very dangerous if crossed.

  “Then we shall see you in two days when we return home,” Santana said to him. “I will be glad for you to see La Estancia de Alcala. It is my home, and the most beautiful hacienda in northern California.”

  “Ah, you are forgetting Rancho de Rosas,” Hugo reminded her. “One day it is my ranch you will call home. You must learn to remove your attachment from La Estancia de Alcala, mi querida.”

  Again a look of unhappiness clouded Santana’s eyes, so much so that Will found himself feeling sorry for her. Hugo told Will he would have men there within the hour to unload the lumber, then he led Santana and her tutor back to the carriage. Santana glanced back at Will once before stepping inside.

  “That’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Will said to Derek as the carriage rolled away.

  Derek stuck his pipe between his teeth. “And she is promised to Hugo Bolivar, my friend. You had better remember that. It is not something to be taken lightly, not in Spanish culture, I’m told. Be careful not to let your eyes linger on her for too long.”

  “That will be a difficult task, especially since I have to travel with her for nearly three days back to her father’s hacienda.” He looked at Derek. “You’re coming, too, you know. I’m not letting you out of my sight. You might end up sailing away again, and I’ll be out my best man.”

  Derek put a hand on his shoulder. “I made you a promise and I don’t break promises. But I think it might be best if I stayed here. I can look for more men while you do business with Don Bolivar and Don Alcala. I know this place, know who to trust. Most of the men around here are a lot more likely to talk to a sailor than a businessman from Maine.”

  “All right. Bolivar suggested I stay at a place called the Golden Palace. I’ll get you a room there too.”

  Derek’s eyebrows arched. “The Golden Palace! Pretty fancy for a homeless sailor.”

  Will grinned. “Enjoy it while you can. A logger’s life can be rough.”

  Derek put his hands on his hips. “I am ready to wield the ax. I’ll learn fast enough. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  Derek’s face lit up with excitement. “Tonight we will roam the saloons and whorehouses,” he declared. “We will begin asking around, telling men you are looking for help. You had better put most of your money in a bank first, my friend. Never walk these docks with too much in your pockets.”

  Will nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He tried to see Hugo Bolivar’s carriage once more, but it had disappeared around a corner, taking the beautiful Santana Lopez with it. He was secretly glad he would be seeing her again, in spite of the fact that she was betrothed to someone else. “She doesn’t want to marry him, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Senorita Lopez. She doesn’t want to marry that pompous man. I can see it in her eyes. It’s probably an arranged marriage.”

  Derek rolled his eyes. “That is not our business. It’s not wise to interfere in something like that, Will.”

  “I didn’t say I would interfere. I’m just
saying she doesn’t want to marry him.” Will looked at Derek. “I’m going to get to know her better, my friend.”

  “She belongs to Hugo Bolivar.”

  Will just smiled. Maybe not, he thought. Something in the woman’s eyes had stirred an ache deep in his loins. He had never seen such skin, such eyes, such hair. She was innocent yet sultry, and he had not missed the way she looked at him. She was as fascinated by him as he was by her. He turned away to untie another rope around the barrels, reminding himself of the real reason he had come here. He would have to try to keep his mind off Santana Lopez, but it was not going to be easy.

  Four

  Will slugged down another shot of whiskey, hoping with each drink that he would be able to forget about Santana Lopez, that those dark eyes of hers would quit haunting him, her full lips would quit tempting him. He puffed on his pipe while he studied his cards, then he asked for two more. An ace and two kings, with a ten and an eight. He made his bet, and all but one of the six men at the table, one of whom was Derek, stayed in the game. He was sure he’d lost, but miraculously, his kings took the pot.