Sarah's Search for Treasure

by Bertha Schwartz

  “What’re we havin’ fer supper?” asked Pete, licking his lips.

  Sarah thought quickly. She glanced at the sun. Would she have time? “We’re having fried chicken—”

  “Yippee!” shouted Li’l Joe, scattering radish seeds as he leaped to his feet.

  “Hush, Li’l Joe. Miss Sarah wasn’t finished talkin’,” scolded Jake.

  Li’l Joe glanced apologetically at Sarah. Sarah reassured him with a smile. He looked so young; she doubted he was even old enough to shave yet. She quickly added, “Mashed potatoes with gravy, sweet corn, and apple pie.”

  The men all grinned at each other. “We’re ready to git started, sir,” Jake addressed Mr. Douglas.

  Sarah noticed Dennis standing near Mr. Douglas. “Dennis, come help me with the chickens.”

  “Sarah!” Dennis protested in a loud whisper. “I wanted to help them.”

  “I’ll help ya with the chickens, if’n ya want,” offered the sandy-haired man, whose name Sarah hadn’t heard yet.

  When Sarah hesitated, Jake said, “Red here’s a good chicken catcher. He’s great at pluckin’ ‘em, too.”

  Sarah nodded and turned to go, puzzling over his name. Timidly, she glanced back at Red. His hair was blondish-brown. There was no hint of red in it.

  Red seemed to read her thoughts. He chuckled. “They say when I was a babe, my hair was red.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Somehow, the name just stuck. Ma’s the onliest one that calls me Jimmy. James when she’s mad at me for somethin’, which was purty often.” He chuckled again.

  Jake was right. Red was good at catching and plucking chickens, but he didn’t want to stop. “Ya sure that’s enough fer all of us for supper? What if someone else comes?”

  Finally, Sarah put a stop to it, afraid they’d be eating chicken for weeks. She made sure he went back to the garden before she went into the house.

  When Mr. Douglas came in for the milk pails, Ma asked how the garden planting went.

  Mr. Douglas grinned. “Pretty good. Those guys can really work when they’re not arguing. The garden’s full, and we didn’t even get all the onions planted.”

  “You planted all that seed?” asked Ma. “I was going to plant only a little of each.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Douglas said. “I didn’t realize.”

  “It’s my fault.” admitted Sarah. “I didn’t think to tell you how much we want.”

  Ma chuckled. “No harm done, I guess. I don’t know how we’ll get all that used or picked. That was at least five times as many peas as we usually plant.”

  “The way it’s going now, that shouldn’t be any problem,” Mr. Douglas said. “But I noticed you didn’t have any corn or beans.”

  “It’s too early for that,” answered Ma, as she put the potatoes on the stove. “I guess we’ll need to plow some more to make room for them. I don’t know what to do with the fields. Scott usually started the planting before now.”

  As Sarah began frying the chicken, her mind was working swiftly. She had an idea about the fields, but she needed to think it through. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. Sarah put down her fork and went to the door. Ma was in the bedroom with Baby Brian. He was so fussy the last while. Sarah opened the door to three hungry-looking men.

  “Ma’am,” said the one with the fancy, black hat. “We heard you’ve got some mighty good food here. We wondered if we could buy a meal instead of working for it. We’ve got gold.” He nodded to his shorter companion, who pulled out a bag displaying dull yellow rocks.

  “Hold on,” shouted a voice behind them. “We got first dibs on supper! And that there’s probably fool’s gold.”

  “Who are you?” asked the first man, angrily.

  “What’s it to ya!” Jake’s face was red with anger. “You can’t just show up here at supper time and expect them to feed you. Ya got to make arrangements ahead o’ time and work for your supper like everyone else. If’n ya think you can fool these here ladies with fool’s gold, ya got another thing a comin’. We ain’t puttin’ up with it.”

  “You and who else?” asked the third man calmly. “You think you can take all three of us?”

  Sarah twisted her apron and wondered what she should do. She wished Ma or Mr. Douglas was here, before things got out of hand.

  “Me an’ my three brothers and Mr. Douglas, that’s who!” said Pete, who had come upon the scene. He gave the nearest man a shove.

  The man’s hand went to his pocket. Sarah could see something black and shiny. Was it a gun?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Restaurant

  BEFORE SARAH COULD REACT, SHE was almost blinded by something. She instinctively put up her hand to protect her face. Dimly, she heard someone say, “Watch how you hold that glass, Tony. You’re almost blinding the poor lady.”

  “Oh, sorry!” Immediately the light disappeared. “It’s a magnifying glass, ma’am.” Sarah lowered her hand to see an apologetic Tony. He pushed his round glasses further up on his nose. And then he held up the thick, round glass with the shiny black handle. “It’s so you can tell real gold from fool’s gold.”

  The shorter man was holding a nugget in his hand, while Tony held the magnifying glass over it. But there was no way Sarah could see, because all four of the Johnson brothers’ heads were bent over the piece, and Dennis was trying to squeeze in between.

  Sarah wondered where they all came from so quickly. She glanced at Mr. Douglas. He motioned her aside, and she quickly explained the situation to him. “The thing of it is, even with a magnifying glass I can’t tell if it’s real gold or not.”

  “Sometimes you can tell by biting into it,” suggested Mr. Douglas. “They say with real gold you can leave an indentation. I’ll try it.”

  The men were more than a little reluctant to give him a piece to try; but at Sarah’s insistence, they gave him one. They all watched solemnly as he bit into one, then studied it. He slowly gave a nod to Sarah. “I’d say it’s the real thing.”

  Sarah watched in amazement as the piece was passed around, and all four of the Johnson brothers and the three strangers each took turns to bite into it and then study it in obvious awe. But when Dennis reached for it, Sarah tried to stop him. But it was too late. He had it in his mouth before she could do anything.

  Mr. Douglas saw her expression and chuckled. “It’s okay, Sarah. It’s important that he can tell real gold from fool’s gold. But the main question now is, do you have enough food for three more men?”

  “If you’ll give me a bit more time, I think we’ll have plenty for everyone. I’d better go!” Sarah hurried back inside. She had peeled extra potatoes for tomorrow’s breakfast, but she would need to cook them for supper. She quickly turned the frying chicken, and then she set the other pot of potatoes to boil. Sarah smiled. At least they had plenty of chicken, thanks to Red.

  “Can I help you with something?” asked Mr. Douglas.

  “Yes,” Sarah turned to him, gratefully. “Could we feed them all out on the porch?” She looked at the table where she had been rolling out biscuits.

  “Certainly. Dennis and I will take the chairs out. Then maybe we could give them some coffee and cookies to hold them until supper’s finished.”

  Sarah glanced up as Dorie came out of the bedroom, holding a doll’s dress she had been sewing. Sarah handed her a plate. “Can you fill this with cookies for the men?”

  Dorie’s eyes widened. “Before supper?”

  Sarah chuckled. “Unfortunately, it probably won’t affect their appetite.”

  Ma came out of the bedroom leading Gracie and carrying a still-crying Brian. “We have some more men to feed?” asked Ma.

  Sarah quickly filled her in on the recent happenings. “Maybe we haven’t planted too much garden.”

  “Maybe not.” Ma looked weary. “I just wish Pa and David were here to help.”

  “I do, too.” Sarah wondered, again, where they were. But she didn’t have long to think because the frying chicken nee
ded her attention.

  By the time everyone had eaten, Sarah and Ma were both too tired to do some more dishes. The men carried the table back into the kitchen but seemed in no hurry to leave. Mr. Douglas took Pa and Ma’s rocker out on the porch and told Ma and Sarah to sit down. “Mr. Westler has something to discuss with you.”

  After they were seated, Mr. Westler, the spokesman for the last group of miners, asked, “How much do we owe you for supper?”

  Sarah and Ma exchanged looks and then turned to Mr. Douglas, who shrugged.

  “That’s what I thought. Word is going to spread quickly about your excellent cooking. You need to come up with a plan, so no one will take advantage of you. The prices in the city have really gone up, and you’ll need to charge accordingly, or you won’t be able to buy more supplies.”

  Sarah didn’t tell him of all the supplies Pa bought before they left. But Mr. Westler was continuing. “You also need a set amount of work they need to do for, say, a meal . . . or an extra snack to take along, and so on.”

  “How about if we write something up?” asked Sarah. She glanced around at the eight men still gathered on the porch. “Maybe you can tell us if it looks fair.”

  The other men nodded. Tony added, “You’ll also need to come up with a price to feed livestock. We fed our two mules here tonight.”

  Sarah went back in the house and got paper and a pen. By the time they were finished, Sarah was excited. “It’s almost like a restaurant.”

  “You’ll need a name for yer restaurant,” drawled Red, in his slow manner.

  Sarah couldn’t keep from laughing at some of the outlandish names they had, but finally, Mr. Westler suggested, “Why don’t you call it ‘Sarah’s Kitchen’?”

  “But Ma does most of the work,” Sarah protested.

  Ma smiled. “I like the name. This was all your idea. I would never have attempted this without you. ‘Sarah’s Kitchen’ it is.”

  The next morning when Sarah got up, she realized they would need to do dishes before they could even start with breakfast.

  As Sarah filled the dish pans, she heard a knock on the door. It was Mr. Douglas. “We have nine more guys wanting breakfast.” He looked apologetic. “Can you handle them?”

  Sarah looked back at the messy kitchen. “If they can wait.”

  “They’ll wait.”

  Sarah sighed. “I wish we could find someone who likes to wash dishes.”

  “Me!” said Li’l Joe, squeezing in beside Mr. Douglas. “I’d much rather work in your new restaurant than dig for gold.”

  “Oh, my! Please, come in!” Sarah’s spirits lifted when Li’l Joe came in with a cheery grin and set to work washing dishes and whistling.

  Ma joined them and was soon rapidly peeling potatoes, while Sarah fried the sausage and mixed some more biscuits. When Dennis came in the kitchen, he was so impressed to see Li’l Joe doing dishes that he began wiping. They kept Sarah on her toes to keep them in jobs as they teased and pestered each other. Even Dorie was excited to help this morning.

  While Sarah was frying the last of the eggs and Ma was caring for Brian, Sarah heard angry voices on the porch. She hurried to open the door and stopped short. There were about a dozen men outside, pushing, shoving, and yelling.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Fighting Miners

  “STOP!” SARAH TRIED TO YELL over the noise. After several more tries, she went back inside and grabbed a spoon and kettle. As soon as she reached the door, she banged on the kettle as hard as she could. Almost immediately, they all stopped and looked at her. At the sight of all those burly men staring at her, Sarah wanted to run back inside and hide. But she remembered this was now a restaurant.

  Sarah drew herself up and said, “This is Sarah’s Kitchen.” She pointed to the sign Red had painted and nailed to the porch last night. Of one accord, the men all turned to look at it. One of the men quickly pulled his hat off, revealing a crop of messy, brown hair. One by one, the others did the same.

  Sarah cleared her throat, hoping her voice wouldn’t start shaking. “We will have no fighting or pushing here. If you wish to dine here, you need to pay in advance.”

  “How much it cost?” asked someone from the back.

  “How do we know you have enough for us?”

  “If we don’t have enough, we’ll make some more,” Sarah answered. “But you might need to wait a bit.” She reached inside and pulled out the paper she had written up last night with the prices. “Here are the prices.”

  The first man snatched it with grubby hands. He studied it while the others started crowding around. “Ya dummy!” exclaimed one of the men. “Ya got it upside down!”

  “Sorry!” The man looked embarrassed. Sarah realized he probably couldn’t read, so she took the paper from him and read it out loud.

  “I can’t afford this place,” grumbled one of the men.

  Another one snorted. “Ya can work. Yer just too lazy to work for yer breakfast, ain’t ya?”

  Fire flared in the first man’s eyes. With clenched fists, he advanced toward the other one. “Take that back!”

  Sarah banged on her kettle again. As the men stopped and looked at her, she said firmly, “If you fight, you don’t eat.”

  The first man scoffed. “So who’s gonna stop me, little girl?”

  Sarah looked him right in the eye. “These other men. Because if there is a fight, no one eats here.”

  Suddenly, there were six men grabbing him. “Ye do one thing to spoil my breakfast, an’ I’ll sure enough take care of ye as soon as we get off this here property,” growled one with an Irish accent.

  “I won’t do anything. I promise I won’t,” he pleaded.

  Gradually, the men released him. Sarah crossed her arms to stop the trembling. “Now, you’ll need to tell me how you plan to pay.”

  She heard a noise beside her and looked up to see Mr. Douglas standing beside her. She almost sagged with relief. Beside him stood Li’l Joe and Dennis. As she glanced out beyond the porch, she saw all seven of the other miners. Tony gave her a nod and wink. Red grinned and mouthed, “Good work!”

  As the men began to speak, Sarah held up her hand. “You need to tell Mr. Douglas here. I need to get back to work.”

  With that, she went back inside on trembling legs. She sank onto the nearest chair. Ma was beside her immediately.

  “Sarah, that was dangerous!” Ma said, hugging her.

  “Oh, Ma! I was so scared.” Sarah buried her face in Ma’s comforting shoulder and sobbed.

  Ma patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you sit in the rocker and hold Baby Brian? I’ll work on breakfast.”

  Sarah pulled back. “Oh, Ma, I’d love to, but there are at least twelve more men to feed.”

  “They’ll wait,” Mr. Douglas said, who had come in while they were talking. “None of them have money, so they’ll be doing some work first.” He reached for the coffee pot. “Do you have any cookies?”

  “Shouldn’t we feed them first?” asked Ma. “They’re probably hungry.”

  “No, ma’am. Or they’ll leave without paying. They’re not starving just because they act like it.”

  Sarah rose. “We’re out of cookies, but we have pie pockets.”

  Mr. Douglas shook his head. “How about biscuits?”

  “Oh, yes. We made plenty of biscuits for breakfast.”

  “You rock the baby. Li’l Joe and Dennis know how to butter biscuits. The rest can wait,” Ma said firmly.

  Thankfully, Sarah settled into the rocker and cuddled Baby Brian. He cooed and reached for her face with a tiny, dimpled hand. Sarah kissed the chubby little fingers and hummed to him, gently stroking the soft, honey-blond hair. She felt herself relaxing as his big, blue eyes began to droop.

  She glanced up as Li’l Joe’s brothers took the table out on the porch again. Ma was filling plates for the first group. We need some tables and chairs . . . or benches, thought Sarah. Wonder where we could get some? Maybe Red or Tony has an idea. We’ll also n
eed to bake some cookies again. Maybe we should do pies first. They take longer to bake. I’m glad Pa bought all those canned goods. We have plenty of fruit. Sarah’s mind raced ahead. Maybe we should let Dorie make the balls for the cookies? She’s always begging to. They might not be perfect, but I doubt that anyone will care. Sarah lifted the sleeping baby and went to lay him in his crib.

  A shout from outside startled both Sarah and Brian. He whimpered in his sleep. Sarah swayed to soothe him, hoping he’d continue to sleep. As quickly and gently as she could, Sarah tucked him into his crib, pulling the blue flannel blanket around him. She rushed outside.

  She saw Tony and his men mounted and racing out the lane, with some other miners running after them on foot. “What happened?” Sarah asked a stranger watching them go.

  This man was cleaner than most miners. He tipped his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. Guess some fellows stuffed themselves with biscuits and coffee and took off without paying. Those guys plan to chase them down.” He grinned. “Hope they catch them. One of them said this Sarah lady is real fussy. If one of the men causes trouble, no one eats. I’m powerful hungry.” He rubbed his flat stomach. “Is your boss really that fussy?”

  Sarah felt her face heat. “I’m not fussy! I just don’t want any fights . . . and I—”

  The man threw his head back and laughed. “I got my foot in my mouth again, didn’t I? That seems to be a habit of mine. So you are the Sarah of Sarah’s Kitshen?” He pointed at the crude sign nailed to the porch.

  Sarah noticed for the first time how sloppy the sign looked and that kitchen was spelled with an “s” instead of a “c.” “Oh, my!” Sarah covered her mouth with her hand, mortified.

  The man chuckled. “I used to be a schoolmaster before the gold bug hit me.” He pulled out a leather wallet. “You let me eat breakfast; then get me the supplies, and I’ll paint a new sign for you.”