Ma said he used to bounce me on his knees. “He’d croak out a lullaby too, now and then, Corrie,” Ma said, “when he figured no one was lookin’. You know what plumb fools men are about lettin’ a body see their feelin’s. He always tried to be the tough one, but I knowed him better.”
After Pa left, we never saw hide nor hair of Uncle Nick, either—not until that fellow come to see us after Grandpa Belle died. I don’t know all he said to Ma, but he did say he’d seen her brother and heard that he owned a ranch near a place called Miracle Springs, California. Ma figured he must have struck gold in the mines because there couldn’t have been any other way for our uncle to afford a spread of land.
When Grandpa Belle’s “estate,” as Ma called it, was settled, she came into a little sum of money. It was only a few hundred dollars, but more than we’d ever see again in once place, Ma said. Most folks told her to put it into the land, but by then she had no heart left for it. She said it was time for us to pull up stakes and strike out for something new. She always said she was more like her brother Nick than was good for her.
All the folks at home thought she’d taken leave of her senses. “Why, what are you thinking, Agatha Hollister?” I overheard one lady tell her. “It’s a fool’s errand if you ask me, a woman traveling west alone, and with five young’uns to boot!”
But Ma was a determined woman, and she said no one ever accused her of being faint-hearted. Besides, my thirteen-year-old brother Zachary was old enough to handle a wagon and team right well.
She said she reckoned I could take a fair load on my shoulders too. “You’re the oldest, Corrie. And I figure you’re just about as grown-up as a girl of fifteen ought to be—with gumption to match.”
I still start to cry when I hear Ma’s voice coming back to my mind like that. But sometimes her words make me proud.
It probably was crazy. Ma said so herself ten times a day those first months on the trail—especially since she had no way to notify our uncle that we were coming. But when Ma set her mind to something, that was that!
“Too much of that Belle blood, I tell you, Corrie!” she said. “It’ll be the death of me yet! You just make sure when you get older you keep your own Belle blood in check.”
Oh, Ma! It makes me so sad when I think that you’re not here to tell me things anymore!
But I know what she’d say. “Come on, Corrie. This is a time to pull in your chin, wipe away them tears, and be strong. Don’t betray that Belle blood in your veins, Corrie.”
The farther west we got, the more I could tell Ma wanted to lay eyes on that “land of promise” they called California. She would have made it, too, if she hadn’t slipped and broken her ankle and then gotten that infection. The Humboldt Sink is practically in California. She was so close.
Even now, when I close my eyes and let my mind wander back to that day Ma died, I can see it all as clear as if I was going through it all again. I was in the wagon sponging down her burning skin with the precious few spoonfuls of water Captain Dixon thought could be spared. It hardly made any difference, because the cloth in my hand turned hot in seconds. But at least I felt I was doing something useful.
“Corrie,” Ma had said to me, her voice weak and as brittle as the parched earth outside, “fetch me something from that trunk. It’s a book wrapped in a lace handkerchief. You’ll see it right on top.”
I found it easily enough. I remember her packing it when we left home, but I had never really looked at it before. I held it out to her but she was too weak to take it.
“You go ahead and look at it, Corrie,” she said.
It was a small Bible, just a little bigger than my hand. It had a pure white leather cover and gold edges on the pages. I had never seen anything so fine and beautiful.
“Your pa gave that to me on our wedding day, Corrie.” The corners of her lips strained at a smile. “It was his way of tellin’ me he was ready to settle down and be a family man. I’ll admit that before we was married, he was kind of a wild one. But I reckon he had good reason. He was orphaned young, left to be raised by his no-account older brother, who was killed before your pa was old enough to take care of himself. His brother’s crowd was a bad influence, and he just never had a chance to learn decent ways. But I saw his heart, Corrie. I knew it was good, and I loved him for that.” She sighed and had to stop talking for a minute to rest.
I gave her a sip of water. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her go on, but Ma was determined, and I probably couldn’t have stopped her, anyway.
“Your Grandpa Belle opposed our marriage,” she went on. “By then, my brother and your pa had started runnin’ together, and I guess my own pa thought Nick had been led astray. I knew better—Nick had his own wild streak. He was just a kid, and by then your pa wanted to change his ways, Corrie. And he did, too, after we was married. He worked hard on that farm and he was a good husband and father—I couldn’t have asked for better.
“Everything that happened afterward . . . well, it just happened. I don’t blame him none. And I don’t want you to either, Corrie. Sometimes a man can’t shake his past no matter how hard he tries. I’m gonna be seein’ your pa mighty soon, and I’ll finally have the chance to say all these things to him.”
“Ma, don’t—”
Even if she hadn’t stopped me, I couldn’t have finished anyway. My throat was getting choked up listening to her.
“Corrie, I have to tell you all this! You’re a big girl. You gotta face the fact that I’m gonna die soon. I only wish I hadn’t dragged you all out here in the middle of nowhere. But you gotta be brave, honey. Won’t help none to do nothin’ else.”
“Ma,” I said through my tears, “you oughta rest.” It was a stupid thing to say, I reckon, but I think I just didn’t want to hear anymore about her dying.
“I got all the years of eternity to rest, Corrie dear. And I gotta tell you about your Uncle Nick, too,” she went on, ignoring my plea. “I never said nothing before, ’cause I didn’t want to put no one in a bad light. But now I have to tell you that your uncle was in some bad trouble. That’s why he came out West. I thought he died with your pa, but when I heard he was still alive and was out here, I knew I had to come find him.
“Nick’s all you got now. I figured when we got to that camp where his ranch is, I’d be able to find him easily enough. Now you’re gonna have to do it alone. Captain Dixon said he’d help, but he’s got his own responsibilities too, so you gotta look out for yourself. Just remember what I always told you—a woman’s gotta be strong, she’s got to be able to make her way alone if she has to. Ain’t no weak-kneed woman gonna make it out here, Corrie. You hear me? You gotta be as tough and strong as a man—maybe tougher, ’cause they won’t make it easy for you.”
I nodded that I understood, though my mind was racing with the thoughts that Ma was about to die. I tried to be brave, but I just couldn’t stand it!
Then she reached up from where she lay and took my chin feebly in her fingers like she used to do. They were so hot, I was afraid they would burn right into my chin.
She smiled. “What I said a long time ago, Corrie,” she whispered, gazing at my face with a peaceful, contented smile, “about you not being of a marryin’ sort. Well, I was wrong, Corrie. You’ve turned out to be a right decent lookin’ girl. You’re gonna get along just fine without me, Corrie. I know you’ll make me and your pa proud!”
“Oh, Ma!” I cried, burying my face in the folds of her dress.
“Come now, we’ll have none of that!” she said, though her voice was too soft to carry much of a threat. But I wiped my eyes and pulled myself up and tried to look cheery.
“Now there’s more I need to tell you about your uncle,” she said. “He’s usin’ a different name—not Belle. The fellow that told me he was there said he’s going by Nick Matthews. Don’t ask me why, but that’s who you got to be lookin’ for. Don’t even mention the name Belle, just in case he’s in trouble. Can you do that, Corrie? I know it’s an awful load to pu
t on a young girl, but there ain’t nothin’ else for it.”
“I’ll try, Ma.” I took her hot limp hand in mine.
“That’s a good girl, honey. And you keep that Bible. It’s yours now, to remember me by. And to remember your pa, too. He was a good man.”
Then she added—the last words she ever spoke—“It’s by the mercy of God we got this close. Find your uncle, Corrie. You’ll need him now more’n ever.”
Chapter 3
Sacramento
Sacramento was bigger than I’d imagined.
It hardly seemed possible that such a bustling place could be just three or four years old. But that’s what Mr. Dixon said. When you took a closer look, you could see its newness in the dirt streets and the clean look of the timber in the simple, single-level buildings, and the freshly-painted store signs.
There was activity everywhere—people on foot or horseback, wagons of every shape, size and kind rumbling up and down the streets, people calling to one another. Here and there in the din I heard shouts of “gold” and “new strike.” As we rode by a saloon I heard one man saying to another, “Did you hear ’bout them varmints what jumped ol’ man Ward’s claim over yonder by Grass Valley?” But we were out of earshot before I heard what the other man said in reply.
I was glad Uncle Nick didn’t live in this town. I’d never lived in a big city before, and I didn’t have a hankering to start now.
I was sitting up front next to Zack, who was driving the wagon. I could tell he was trying hard to act like a man. Some of the other kids in the train had jumped from their wagons and were whooping and running about excitedly. But Zack sat still and straight, reins slack in his hands, eyes steady on the team, a serious look on his face.
Poor Zack. He had to grow up awful fast, especially since we left the East. Along with that resolute look in his eyes, I could see the pain, too—a different kind of pain than just from the hard work his calloused hands showed he’d done the many months on the trail. But he held the team steady, gripping the leather straps, eyeing the new town, with just a hint left of my little brother. I could see it in the way his lips were parted a crack in wonder. He was almost a man, but still a boy at the same time.
I suppose Ma might have said something similar about me. I turned around and poked my head inside the wagon.
“Hey, kids,” I called. “Come on up here with me and Zack. The three of you gotta see all this!”
Eleven-year-old Emily’s curly blonde head peeked out first. She was the pretty one in the family, all delicate like a China doll I once saw in a store window. She sure wouldn’t have to worry about being a spinster or a teacher. I gave her my hand and she wiggled onto the seat next to Zack. After her, with a little help, scrambled seven-year-old Tad. He was small for his age, and as the baby of the family, had been petted and pampered. Now he plopped into my lap.
“Is this Sacramento?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered him.
“Can I drive?” he asked, reaching for the reins.
“You’re too little,” responded Zack in his most grown-up voice.
After Tad, nine-year-old Becky bounded out of the wagon and up to the front, squeezing her chubby little body in between me and Emily. Becky always made me think of one of those bubbly springs we saw on the trail. Ma used to say she was plumb “full of vim and vinegar!” If she had her druthers I suspect she’d have jumped right down onto the street with the other kids and been off out of sight like a shot. She wasn’t afraid of anything, nor did she have the good sense that goes along with a healthy dose of fear. I put my arm around her shoulder to steady her a bit. I wanted us all to make a good impression on Uncle Nick.
Gradually, after the first awe of seeing the long-anticipated town wore off, I found myself concentrating on the faces I saw. I began to examine every one we passed, wondering if one of these folks might turn out to be Uncle Nick. How would I know, anyway? I didn’t know what he looked like. Somehow I guess I thought I’d see some resemblance to Ma.
“Shucks, Corrie,” I could hear Ma say as we bounced along, “there ain’t no way you can tell a man from some female kin o’ his.”
Still, I couldn’t help thinking about all her talk of the Belle blood, and I thought that maybe I’d be able to tell.
There were all kinds of folks in Sacramento. I suppose it wasn’t much different than I imagined it would be after listening to Captain Dixon talk to all the grown-ups around the campfire at night. There were lots of rough-looking, grizzled prospectors. They looked just like some pictures Ma had shown us. One or two were leading mules all loaded down with gear. But there were men dressed in nice city clothes too—probably the ones who had found lots of gold. And there were plenty who looked like the men in the Midwest too, with their high, leather boots, buckskin coats, and wide-brimmed hats. All around, horses and wagons moved in every direction.
There weren’t too many women. Ma said there wouldn’t be. She figured she might even find us a new pa once we got here. The few women I did see were all dressed up in fancy silk or calico. I didn’t suppose they did much prospecting, judging from their get-ups.
Captain Dixon rode up on horseback next to our wagon. “Well, you young Hollisters,” he called out cheerfully, “here we are! What do you all think?”
A raucous chorus of shouts flew back at him from around me. He laughed, unable to distinguish between the high-pitched voices.
“I’ll take you kids on down to Miz Baxter’s boarding house. Then I’ll see what I can find out about your uncle.”
He paused and rubbed the whiskers on his chin thoughtfully. “Someone with the name of Nick Hollister oughtn’t be too hard to locate,” he added.
“His name ain’t Hollister,” I said quickly.
“That’s right. I do recall your Ma sayin’ he was her brother. Never thought about the man’s last name. What is it then? You don’t want me chasin’ round for the wrong man.”
“Matthews,” I said, “Nick Matthews.” I felt my cheeks flame, ’cause I know better than to tell lies. But this was different—it was Ma’s wish. And she did say it was the name he went by. Zack threw me a surprised look, and I was just glad he didn’t say anything.
Captain Dixon must not have noticed it; he just nodded and rode off on his palomino with us following in the wagon.
Miss Baxter’s Boarding House was located in a quieter part of town, down a side street from the main road. It was a frame house painted white and was the most civilized building in town—at least it was the most civilized one we had yet seen. There was a white board fence around the front yard, and a row of geraniums planted along the front of the house were still in bloom, though it was the middle of October. Inside, the house was furnished plainly. Miss Baxter said she was waiting for a shipment to arrive from the East. But what was there was nice; I hadn’t seen a parlor or a kitchen or even a real floor in months.
Two hours after Captain Dixon deposited us with Miss Baxter, and she’d fixed us a fine supper of chicken and dumplings, the captain walked into the front room where we were sitting by the fire waiting. I thought he looked more sober than usual.
“Seems your uncle ain’t nowhere in town,” he said. “He’s most likely up in Miracle.”
“What’ll we do now?” asked Zack, sounding more than ever like the little boy he was struggling not to be.
Captain Dixon scratched his head thoughtfully.
No one said anything for a long time. I suppose we were all too shy to ask what was really on our minds. But someone had to ask, and since I was the oldest, it was my job to do it.
“Captain,” I said, my voice sounding small in my ears. After all, Captain Dixon only signed on to take the wagon train to Sacramento, not to traipse all over tarnation with a passel of kids. “Do you think maybe we could go up there after him?”
Captain Dixon didn’t say anything for a while, then he kind of mumbled, “Well, lemme see. Yep, that’s an idea all right—” As his words trailed away half-finished,
he went off to the other room and talked with Miss Baxter. They kept their voices low so I couldn’t tell what they were saying. In a minute or two he returned.
“Miz Baxter says you can all stay here tonight. We’ll git an early start come daybreak. It’s a three-day ride to Miracle.”
Chapter 4
Miracle Springs
I can hardly remember anything about the next three days except their being long.
When Captain Dixon said he’d take us to Miracle, we were five happy kids. The thought of waiting around in that unfamiliar city, not sure if Uncle Nick would ever turn up, was none too appealing a thought. Especially if we had been left alone, having to scour through the crowded, rough streets searching for our uncle on our own. So we all joyfully hugged Captain Dixon—all except Zack, that is. He just shook his hand like a grown-up man.
But the long drive took some of the fire out of our enthusiasm. There’s nothing worse than thinking you’re all done with something, only to have to start all over again. After all those months on the trail, another three days should have been nothing. But they were the longest of all.
Anyway, we finally got there about mid-afternoon of the third day. Miracle was nothing like Sacramento, except that it was new. But I suppose everything around California was practically new, because of the gold rush.
Captain Dixon told us that the people who started this town all came two years ago, after a rich strike was discovered on a little tributary of the Yuba River that came to be called Miracle Springs. The town just naturally got named after the springs. There weren’t more than two streets and a few buildings in the whole town, and five of the buildings were saloons. Most of the population was housed in a ramshackle conglomeration of tents of all different sizes and shapes.
Captain Dixon said that the people of Miracle hadn’t decided if their town was a mining camp, a for-real town that was going to grow like Sacramento, or if it was already becoming a ghost town. The two-year old strike was gradually playing out, and only the serious miners were still scratching a few dollars out of the mines and streams. But quite a few families, and here and there a farmer or two, had come to the area hanging onto their hopes for the future.
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