by Gwen Bristow
And shiny it was, the sun glowing on the red earth and sparkling on the stream that bubbled among the rocks at the bottom. Along the sides of the gulch they saw fallen logs, and tangles of brushwood, and great rocks jutting out of the earth. In the strip between the edge of the gulch and the mountain range they saw more rocks, and trees that had fought the rocks as they grew, till the rocks were split and the trees twisted into crazy shapes. But rough as it was, this strip was the only place in sight that had any claim at all to being level, so it was here that the gold hunters had made their camp.
Kendra and Marny could see two covered wagons and three tents, and here and there a lean-to made by tilting logs against a flat-sided rock. Among these various shelters they saw the smoke of campfires, and doll-sized figures moving about. They counted twenty-seven men, three women, and six children. Most of the men were down in the gulch, gathering gold. Kendra could not see just how they were doing it, but she felt the tingles down her back, and she and Marny gave each other the same awestruck glances they had exchanged across the chamber-pot at Sutter’s Fort.
In the camp on the rim the women were washing clothes and tending fires, and even the children seemed busy too. Gazing as far as she could, Kendra did not see a single soul who looked idle.
And why, she asked herself, should they want to be idle? Their life was rough but it had the shine of romance. They had been drawn here by a dream. And unlike most dreams, this one was coming true.
As she and Marny looked down, close to them the wagon wheels bumped over the ground. Sticks and stones, loosened by their passage, rattled down the slopes. All around them was the pungent fragrance of pines in the sun. But they were hardly aware of anything but the camp below.
Then suddenly Hiram was riding beside them. As they looked around he gave them a joyful grin. His beard had little golden flashes, and around his eyes were lines of delight.
“Isn’t it grand,” he exclaimed, “to see all this?”
Kendra nodded vigorously, and Marny said, “I love it!” Hiram went on,
“Nobody ever saw anything like it before. I feel like—oh, what do I feel like?”
“Like Columbus!” Kendra exclaimed. “Discovering.”
“Yes!” agreed Hiram. “We—and those people down there—we’re discoverers. And it’s our secret—have you thought about that? Back in the States, nobody knows anything about our gold.”
Kendra gave a start. She had not thought of this.
Marny had not thought of it either. They talked it over.
East of the Rocky Mountains, nobody knew there was gold in California. People back home could not possibly know, for months to come.
Because, how could anybody tell them?
There was no regular communication between California and anywhere else in the world. Kendra knew this, but in the excitement of the past few weeks she had forgotten it. Now she remembered. Telegraph lines reached from the Atlantic Coast to New Orleans and St. Louis, but no farther west. The westernmost post office on the continent was in the town of Independence, Missouri.
Between Independence and San Francisco lay two thousand miles of country, unmapped and almost unknown. To cross that country with a wagon train, as Pocket had done, took four or five months; to come from an eastern port by sea, as Kendra had done, took as long. And it would take as long to go back, no matter how splendid the news you brought. At intervals the army garrisons sent couriers with military dispatches, but even the best equipped army men took months to go from California to the States.
Of course, the people back home would hear about California gold some day. But it would take a long, long time.
She wondered how long.
16
TED, DRIVING THE WAGON, leaned out to call to them. “Say, girls! What’s the matter? Catch up!”
With a start of guilty laughter, they saw Ning turning the train to go around a barrier of rocks. In a moment the curve of the hill shut off the view.
The riding grew more and more rough. They went around rocks and trees, and bumped over ledges jutting like steps along the hillsides. Several times they had to stop while the men took axes and hacked a way through tangles of brush. When they finally rode into the camp it was late afternoon. The horses were panting, the men’s faces dripped with sweat. Kendra felt her underclothes so soaked that they clung to her skin like the peel of an orange, and Marny sighed, “I feel like I’ve been beaten up by experts.”
In the camp it was time for supper. The gold diggers were gathering around their fires, and the air was rich with smells of wood-smoke and bacon. But at sight of the new party, men and women alike dropped their frying pans and flocked around. Of the diggers at Shiny Gulch, only two or three had come from San Francisco. The rest had been workmen at Sutter’s Fort or settlers in the country close by, and had seen the sawmill men offering gold dust to pay for drinks and guns. Several of them recognized Ning, and they nearly all knew Pocket.
Turning his horse toward Kendra, Pocket introduced two men named Will Gibson and Nathan Larch. He said they had come out last summer in the same wagon train as himself. They were married men, and had brought their wives and children. And here were the ladies, Sue Gibson and Hester Larch. Mighty fine folks.
Will and Nathan wore overalls spattered with mud from the gulch, Sue and Hester were hard-muscled women in sunbonnets and shapeless dresses. They all four had skin like leather and they looked tough as mules, but they had a big noisy vitality that reached out like warm hands in the wilderness. “Glad to see you,” Nathan Larch shouted to Kendra, and Will Gibson boomed, “Howdy, ma’am, make yourself at home.” Several tousle-headed children jumped around, yelling for supper. Hester and Sue told them to mind their manners, and said to Kendra, “Now anything we can do, Mrs. Parks, just let us know.”
They were, as Pocket had said, fine folks. Kendra smiled back at them and thanked them for their welcome. But she was so tired that smiling was an effort, and she could not help feeling relieved when Hester and Sue called their families to supper at the campfires.
Ning had told the others to wait while he and Hiram rode off to find a good site for their own camp. Kendra thought now she would have a few minutes of restful silence, but she had forgotten that when she and Marny looked down from the hilltop they had counted three women at Shiny Gulch. Hester and Sue were two of them. Now the third woman had planted herself beside Kendra’s horse and was examining Kendra with critical eyes. This woman did not look like the other two. She was a small plump creature about thirty years old, shaped like a sausage roll. She wore a blue gingham apron, and she had yellow curls drawn up high and pinned in a bunch, so that she looked as if she were wearing a lot of wilted daffodils on her head.
“My name,” she announced sternly, “is Edith Posey.” She added with emphasis, “Mrs. Edith Posey.”
“How do you do,” said Kendra.
“You’re not going to like it here,” snapped Mrs. Edith Posey.
“Why not?” Kendra asked.
“Up here,” said Mrs. Posey, “we work.”
Kendra brushed away a gnat that had lit on her nose. “I’m used to work,” she returned.
Mrs. Posey shook her head so hard that the yellow curls bobbled. “You don’t look it. You look like a New York society girl. Where’d you come from?”
Kendra almost told Mrs. Posey to mind her own business, but desisted because she was so tired and it took less energy to give a plain answer. “I was born in Baltimore,” she said. “I went to school in New York.”
“I told you so,” said Mrs. Posey. She nodded sharply and the curls nodded with her. “Society girl. You won’t like it.”
At this moment Mrs. Posey’s ears caught a ripple of laughter. She turned her head, and her round little mouth tightened as she got a good look at Marny.
Like Kendra, Marny had stopped her horse and was waiting for Ning. While she waited, a cluster of men had gathered around her. Marny had pushed back her bonnet, and the sun glinted on her hair. Sh
e was laughing with her admirers. Tired though she was, Marny was never too tired to enjoy such a welcome.
Mrs. Posey viewed her with alarm. After a moment she turned back to Kendra. “And who’s that?”
This time Kendra smiled without trying. “Her name is Marny.”
Mrs. Posey gave her head a toss that sent a shiver through the curls. “And what,” demanded Mrs. Posey, “is she doing here?”
Kendra said, “She’s going to set up a gambling tent.”
Mrs. Posey gave a righteous start. “Gambling tent! We’ll see about that.”
Losing interest in Kendra, she turned, and as fast as her short little legs would carry her she hurried over to the group around Marny’s horse. The men parted to let her through, reluctantly but with resignation, as if they knew it was no use to object. Mrs. Posey slapped her plump little hand on the arm of one of them. “Orville Posey,” she exclaimed, “supper’s on.”
The men chuckled, and Marny joined them with a soft little laugh that did not amuse Mrs. Posey. She led her husband off by his elbow, though it gave the effect of her leading him by the nose.
A few minutes later they heard a big jovial voice shouting “Ready!” Hiram came riding back, waving his hat above his head and as usual giving the impression that he filled up even more space than he did. “Ning has picked our campsite,” he called. “Catch up!”
Marny kissed her hand to her new friends as the train fell into line. Hiram led them to the far upper end of the open strip, close to the point where the mountain ranges came together. Here the ground was steep, but Ning explained that this was a good safe place to keep the horses. Down at the lower end of the gulch, beyond the turn where the stream went around a hill, a village of Abs had gathered to pick up the offal of the camp, and there was nothing an Ab liked so much as a roasted horse. Better keep the whole camp between them.
And here, right at the edge of the gulch, was a clear level spot that would do for Kendra’s cook-fire tonight. Tomorrow they would fix her a permanent cooking place.
At the word cook-fire Kendra felt another tremor of weariness. She had to cook supper, this was her job, but she was so tired that she dreaded it. Ted was anchoring their wagon with logs under the wheels. Hiram walked over and helped her dismount.
“I came to tell you,” said Hiram, “give us a cold supper tonight.”
She started. “What do you mean?”
“I spoke to Ning,” said Hiram, “and he agreed. Salt beef and hardtack and some dried fruit—we’re so hungry, those will taste like a feast. Don’t do any cooking except to make coffee.”
Kendra gave a grateful sigh. “Oh, thank you, Hiram! I’ll give you a big breakfast in the morning, to make up.”
Marny came over to say she had found a place for their bathroom. Kendra felt better when she had washed off the dust, or at least part of it. Back at her level space on the edge of the gulch, she gathered sticks while Ted brought a pail of water. “Now I’ve got to help Hiram and Pocket with the horses,” he said. “Shout when you’re ready.”
He left her, and Kendra knelt to set the sticks and light the fire. When she had put on the coffee pot, she stood up to stretch her cramped legs and look down into the gulch. The gold hunters had quit work for the day. The gulch was empty, and quiet but for the rush of water at the bottom. Farther downstream she could see paths the men had cleared so they could make their way down to the stream with its golden sands, but up at this end the sides were rough, broken only by rocks and bushes sticking crookedly out of the bumpy earth.
Raising her eyes Kendra looked around her. Their campsite was about a quarter of a mile from any other, for few people cared to make the hard climb to this high end of the strip. Down where most of them were camped, she could see tired men already going to sleep, their hats over their faces to shut out the last rays of the sun.
On the other side of her, near the spot where the mountains closed in, Ted and Hiram and Pocket were tethering the horses. Lulu and Lolo were busy at their own cook-fire. The Blackbeards were anchoring their wagons as Ted had anchored his, and near one wagon Marny and Delbert stood looking over the territory, no doubt choosing a place to set up their gambling tent.
Already, standing at the edge of the gulch and looking around, Kendra felt almost rested. “I like it here,” she said to herself. “I have friends. I belong.” She added with decision, “And no matter what happens, I’m never going to let myself get lonesome again.”
She stamped her foot on the ground.
“I’m never going to be lonesome again,” she repeated. “I’ll be hot and dusty and tired, but I won’t be lonesome. I’m just beginning to live and I’m going to live. I’m going to live every minute.”
She stamped her foot again. This time she stamped so hard that the rim of the gulch gave way and she felt herself falling.
From somewhere above her she heard Marny give a cry, but she hardly noticed it. Her fall was too fast and too terrifying. The earth, soaked by the melting of the mountain snows, was still soft; as Kendra slipped downward the stones and young growth came out easily, and fell with her instead of holding her back. She felt herself thumping and heard her clothes tearing, and the rocks and clods clattering down beside her. Her knees and elbows were scraping raw, dirt was filling her eyes and mouth and nostrils. A bush caught in the neck of her dress, giving her a hard scratch and drawing the dress so tight around her throat that it nearly choked her.
But this gave her an instant’s delay. The skin was torn off the sides of her hands, and the grains of dirt in her eyes were making her shed tears so that she could hardly see, but she caught blindly at the bush and clutched the stems. By good fortune this bush was an old one, well rooted, and she had grasped it near the ground. The roots held, and the pause gave her a chance to breathe.
Above her she heard voices. Though she was too confused to catch the words, the sounds gave her comfort. Her friends would get to her somehow, if she could hold on to the bush. But, she wondered in fright, could she hold on?—hanging here by her bleeding hands? The collar of her dress chafed painfully into the place where the bush had cut her neck, but she managed to look down. Below her, not far from her dangling feet, a ledge broke the side of the gulch. It was a shelf of stones and earth about three feet wide, and it looked solid.
Kendra heard her breath coming in choking gasps. She heard another sound too, close to her ears—the roots of the bush were firm in the ground, but the stems she held were cracking under her weight. Catching her lower lip between her teeth she loosened her hands from the stems and let go, and slid down upon the ledge and fell there in a heap, sore and bruised and ragged, but on steady ground again.
For a moment she could not do anything. Stones and dust and lumps of earth tumbled after her, and fell upon her and all around her, but she hardly noticed. She felt as if every organ in her body had been shaken out of place and was hurting from the shock. Her hands were stinging, and she saw bloodstains on her skirt.
With an effort she lifted her hands to her neck and unfastened the top button of her dress so she could breathe more easily. This was a help. She moved her shoulders. The shoulders hurt, and her hips hurt, and her knees felt bruised, and her upper arms were stinging as if they too had been scraped raw. She felt so many hurts that only now did she realize that Ted was calling her name, over and over above her head.
Vaguely she looked up. Ted was there on the edge of the gulch, close to the spot where she had slipped. He had thrown himself on the ground as if to get nearer her, and he was shouting,
“Kendra! Can’t you hear me?”
Kendra managed to nod. With another effort she called back, “Yes, I can hear.”
“Hiram has gone to get a rope,” called Ted. “Understand?”
Kendra’s head was beginning to clear. She nodded again.
“He’ll make a noose,” Ted went on, “with a good strong sailor’s knot. You’ll put the noose around you, and we’ll bring you up.”
Kendra ca
lled back that she understood. As she looked up she saw with surprise that Ted was not very far above her. Her fall had seemed so long that she felt as if she should be nearly down to the bottom of the gulch. But now, though she was still too confused to judge the distance, she could see that it was not as great as she had thought. It would not be very difficult for the men to bring her up.
Too bruised to feel like moving, she sat as she was. More pebbles, loosened as she scraped down the slope, fell around her.
Worse than feeling shaken and sore, she felt ashamed of herself. Through the whole journey, twelve days from San Francisco, she had been a good traveler. And now, just as they reached Shiny Gulch, she had gone and done a stupid thing like this, and discommoded the whole company. Her hands would have to be bandaged and maybe it would be days before she could make a fire or lift a kettle again. Bruised as she was, maybe she could not even walk.
Her dress was torn in a dozen places and so dirty that an hour’s scrubbing would hardly get it clean. In her lap, as well as all around her, were rocks and sticks and leaves and lumps of red clay. Near her right knee she saw a lump not as red as the others. The lump was about the size of an egg, but unlike an egg it was rough and uneven. It did not look like a clod, it was more like a rock with scraps of red earth clinging to it. A shiny sort of rock—in a spot where there was no dirt on it, the side caught the sunset with a little soft glow. Kendra picked it up.
Her breath caught in her chest with a gasp so hard that it hurt. This was not a rock. No rock this size would be so heavy. Her hands still oozing blood, she took a corner of her skirt and rubbed the dirt off the lump. The gasps of her breath came harder and faster. The pain in her chest swelled till she felt as if she were going to explode. The hand that held the lump began to tremble. Above her, Marny was calling some words of encouragement. Ted shouted that Hiram was right now making the noose in the rope. Kendra hardly heard them.