George grunted. He busied himself stirring cream into his tea.
“No one is going into town,” Mother whispered.
Both George and Katherine turned to their father. He must be very ill to remain silent for so long. Indeed, Father’s face had gone pale. His chin sank so low it threatened to dip into his plate of unfinished food. Father picked up his teacup but his hand shook so badly he replaced it, rattling, onto its saucer, slopping milky brown liquid over the rim. “It is not fitting for a young girl...”
“Ohhh! You keep saying that!” Katherine hissed. She refused to be told what was fitting and what was not. Why should she be bound by some silly rules made up in a country half the world away? Everything was different here. This land was huge and wild and free. She would not be a prisoner, confined to this one patch of land.
There was no answering anger from Father. Far from it. Instead of glowering at her, he seemed to shrink into himself. His chin sank even lower over his plate. Katherine closed her eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and let her anger fall away.
“Father,” she said calmly, “I have travelled all the way up to the Thompson River with...” She stopped and took a quick sip of tea to cover her blunder. A shiver ran through her. She had almost said, With William’s help, and only just caught herself in time. She must be more careful.
Katherine held her teacup with fingers daintily clasping the handle, exactly as Mother had taught her, and completed her sentence, “...without any problem. So I think I am capable of riding into Hope by myself.”
“We could go together,” George offered. “I’ll take the wagon for supplies.”
“Oh. Yes, of course,” Katherine said, grateful for George’s unexpected compromise.
Mother pushed her cup and saucer away. “Did no one hear me? No one is going into town.” She placed both hands on the table, pushed herself heavily to her feet, and stumbled toward the open door.
Katherine and George stared across the table at each other. Again they both turned to Father, but he only gazed gloomily into his teacup as if unaware of all that was going on around him. Sister and brother stood and followed their mother outside.
They found her seated on the top step. Elbows resting on her knees, she cupped her chin in both hands and gazed up at the mountain that loomed above their farm. Twilight shadows turned its topmost peak to gold and accentuated every crevice in the naked rock.
Katherine settled beside her mother. Something was troubling her. Something beyond the loss of Susan and the worry over Father. Katherine could see that now.
They stayed for a few minutes that way, sitting side by side, absolutely still, with George hovering behind them near the door. No one spoke until finally Katherine broke the silence. “Why don’t you want us to go into town, Mother? Don’t you trust us?” Another thought occurred to her. “Or are you ashamed of the way I look, with my short hair and sun-browned face?”
Mother’s forehead sank to her knees, pressed against her two hands that rested there. “I only wish it were that simple,” she whispered.
Katherine leaned closer. “Then what?”
“We have no money.” Mother’s voice was muffled by her full cotton skirt.
“What? None?”
“Very little,” she said. “Barely enough for a sack of flour. What with the medicines I needed for your father, and the money he gave to George...” Her voice faded away.
After a moment, Mother spoke again, so quietly Katherine strained to hear. “I’m afraid your father has never been good with money. And of course our journey from England cost more than planned, due to our prolonged stay in San Francisco when...” Her voice collapsed altogether.
Katherine knew what Mother couldn’t say. When we all took ill, Susan worst of all.
That night Katherine lay on her simple bed, so tired her entire body ached. She snuggled under the warm blanket and closed her eyes. She would sleep well.
No money.
Her eyes popped open.
They faced a long winter with not enough food and little money. Nothing to buy essential supplies. Fear crept into her belly. Katherine had never been poor, never been forced to go hungry, and the thought of it terrified her.
Would they have had enough if Father hadn’t been hurt? Possibly. And that made it all her fault. If only she had called Father that morning, or paused to grab the gun herself, everything would be different. Instead she had raced from her bed waving her arms, furious at that mother bear and cub for digging up her precious vegetable garden. The cub had ambled away but its mother turned on Katherine, and when Father ran outside he was mauled trying to protect her.
If she had stopped to think, they might have dried bear meat in storage and a warm bearskin rug to help keep out winter’s chill.
If it’s your fault, then it’s up to you to do something about it. The voice came out of the darkness, not Susan’s voice exactly, but there nevertheless. It was a quiet voice that continued to give her direction whether she wanted it or not. Katherine tried to push it away but the idea caught hold. She had to make this right and there was only one way to do so.
Katherine stumbled out of bed and made her way through the dark to her bureau. She slid open the top drawer and felt inside until her fingers closed around the small cloth bag. She felt the hard lump inside and dropped it onto her hand. The gold rose nugget. Susan’s final gift.
She climbed back into bed and curled on her side, clutching the nugget in her tightly closed fist. Sometimes she needed so badly to talk to her sister that it seemed impossible she could be gone forever. Tears trickled over her nose and onto her pillow. She had promised Susan to keep the golden rose for the rest of her life. How could she even think of selling it? She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. The nugget was all she had left of Susan, a token to keep her sister’s memory alive for a lifetime.
And if they all died of starvation, is that what Susan would want? No, Susan would tell her to sell the nugget and purchase provisions.
Oh, but she had promised!
Katherine’s thoughts kept going back and forth until at last she slipped into a troubled sleep.
She awoke with a start. Her room was black and close around her. She knew now that there was another choice, something else she could sell in place of the golden rose.
But how could she bear to part with Nugget?
2
Katherine rolled over, delighting in the soft ground beneath her body. Warm too – she had not felt so warm at night in a long time. But the fingers of her right hand ached. Why? And why were they clutched into such a tight fist?
She pulled her hand from beneath the blanket. Blinked away the fuzziness of sleep. Opened her eyes. Saw nothing but grey. But wait – directly in front of her was a square of warm light. A window.
Of course, that’s why she felt so cozy. She was not curled beside a dead campfire with early morning dew making everything damp and chill, but snug in her own bed with a mattress and blankets to keep her warm. And yet her fingers ached. She opened them slowly to reveal the nugget. Pressed tight against her palm, it glowed deep gold. Katherine thought back to the first time she ever saw the nugget, held just this way in Susan’s hand as they stood side by side on the steamer’s deck.
“Do you see?” Her sister held the nugget, shimmering under a harsh southern sun. “It looks just like a rose, as if someone had carved it that way.”
Katherine tucked the nugget back into its cloth bag but still held it in her hand. No. She could never sell the golden rose, not ever. How could she even think such a thing? Which left her no other choice. If she couldn’t part with the gold nugget, she would need to sell its namesake.
Katherine was surprised how easily she came to accept this choice, once her decision was made. They did not need two horses on the farm, eating hay all winter long. With only Duke and Genevieve
, there might be enough feed to last until spring. And the money from the sale would buy much-needed provisions.
As soon as her chores were done, she would ride into Hope and inquire if anyone was looking to purchase a strong, fast horse. She slid out of bed and picked up the little pile of clothing she had worn on her trip. Pants, shirt, vest and jacket all were filthy from long days on the trail. Come wash day she would scrub them clean, hang them in the sunshine to dry, then tuck them safely away. The possibility was still there, still hovering so close she could almost reach out and touch it. The possibility that one day she might wear them again.
She dressed in a cotton blouse and a full skirt that brushed the tops of her boots, then hurried outside. The first rays of sun peeked around the mountainside, landing on bright pearls of dew, making the fields sparkle like early frost. She wrapped her cold fingers around the milk pail handle. How long would it be until a real frost?
With the milking done, Katherine left the pail inside the shed and walked to the field where both horses were hobbled. Nugget raised her head and walked over to Katherine, uttering a soft snort. A snort that said so much. Good Morning. I’m happy to see you. What shall we do today?
Katherine reached up to rub her horse’s broad forehead. Her eyes stung. “I’m so sorry...” she began, but couldn’t go on. She turned away.
She walked to her garden, filled with an impossible hope that there might be more vegetables than she remembered. There were great holes in the long, neat rows she had worked so hard to cultivate all summer long. The bear had dug up potatoes, carrots and turnips, but not all were lost. Beet greens had been chomped down to nothing, but with luck there would still be beets beneath the soil. What remained needed to be dug up and stored for winter. If they were very careful, there might be enough to last until Christmas. She went back to retrieve the milk, her last hope gone.
Katherine announced her plans at the breakfast table. “I’m riding into Hope this morning,” she said, “to see what I can get for my horse.”
Mother replaced her teacup on its saucer and glanced up sharply. She opened her mouth as if to speak.
Katherine held her breath. Perhaps Mother had another suggestion? Some idea that had not occurred to her until this very moment?
But Mother only nodded and glanced toward Father, who spooned some porridge into his mouth, swallowed, and frowned. “You’d best leave that to George.”
“No!” Katherine bit her lip to keep from saying more. Defiance was no way to handle her father, Katherine knew that now. She paused, took a quick breath, and made an effort to soften her voice. “Father, please. I bought Nugget myself, she’s my horse and I’d like to be the one to sell her.”
Katherine stopped, wondering if she should go on, but the words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. “Mother has a long list of supplies we need to see us through winter, and I know you won’t want any of us to go without.”
Mother’s tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. George gave his customary grunt. Katherine studied her father. Had she gone too far? Father felt guilty enough for bringing them here, to this wild, empty country where nothing turned out as he expected.
She would have been relieved that Father chose to sidestep her comment if he hadn’t turned instead to inquiring about Nugget. “Katherine, I can’t imagine how you purchased the horse in the first place. I was unaware that you had money of your own.”
Oh. Oh no. Katherine had never told her family about Susan’s gold nugget. It was a cherished secret, her private connection to Susan. But she couldn’t lie to her father. She had no money of her own and he knew that well enough. “I had a gold nugget,” she whispered, “that Susan gave me.”
A hush fell over the room at the mention of her sister’s name.
“And where did Susan get such a nugget?”
“From Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, aboard the steamer. They were returning from England to their plantation in Jamaica and Susan took care of their baby when all three were so awfully seasick. You see, they believed Susan saved Baby Rose’s life and that’s why they gave her the nugget. They thought it appropriate because it was shaped like a rose.”
Should she mention the storekeeper in Yale? On the day Katherine went into his store to purchase supplies for her journey, she had offered the gold nugget as payment. The storekeeper held it on his palm and turned it over with his fingertips.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
As it turned out, the storekeeper was Charles Roberts, the very man who had sent the nugget as a gift to his older brother’s family when Baby Rose was born. “My brother wrote me of your sister,” he said. “He is most grateful to her.”
When Charles Roberts learned of Susan’s death, he felt so sorry he refused to take any payment at all.
And so Katherine still had the nugget. Best to keep this information to herself, she decided. Yale was not so very far away, and if Father ever got talking to him, the storekeeper might reveal more than she wanted him to know. He might mention Katherine was not alone that day but had hired her friend, a young Indian guide named William, to help catch up to her brother.
“Susan took care of everyone,” Mother broke into her thoughts. “Everyone except herself.”
Father cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, it isn’t fitting for a young girl...”
George slurped his last spoonful of hot porridge, drowned in fresh, warm milk, into his mouth and dropped his spoon, clattering into the empty bowl. “Seems to me,” he began in his slow, clumsy way, “that Katherine rode the horse all the way up to Cariboo Country on her own. Seems to me, riding a few miles into Hope should not be a problem for her.”
Katherine’s mouth fell open. She pushed it shut with the heel of her hand. A grin threatened to spread across her face but she managed to suppress it.
“Well...” Father’s face flushed pink, “...but she was riding astride the horse, as if she were a...”
“Boy,” George finished for him. “That was clever of her. Katherine never could have travelled so far dressed as a girl. And she would not have beaten me in a horse race by riding side-saddle, I can assure you.”
“George is right, Peter,” Mother said. “These colonies are teeming with men. From what I’ve heard, scarcely one in a hundred has a hope of finding a wife. Katherine was wise to disguise herself as a boy.”
Katherine leaned closer to their father. “Is that what worries you, Father? That I will embarrass you by riding into town wearing breeches and using a man’s saddle? Well, I won’t, you see, because I’m wearing a skirt today.”
Father glared from one of his children to the other and then at his wife. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I still don’t like it,” he muttered.
Katherine knew she had won. She could climb on Nugget this very morning and ride away from the farm. No one would object, not her father, not her mother, not even George. Well, especially not George. For the first time in years, George was on her side. She smiled, but somehow the smile didn’t feel right. It stuck on her lips and wouldn’t go any further. All her life Katherine had wanted to win an argument with her father, but now that it had happened, instead of feeling happy she felt hollow inside. “Maybe George could come with me,” she offered – why, she wasn’t at all sure, because she really wanted to go alone. But as soon as she said it, Katherine began to feel happier. Likely because her mother’s shoulders relaxed, George leaned back, smiling, and her father sat up a little straighter.
Her fingers brushed against the deep pocket of her skirt. She had not lied to her family, not exactly, even if she neglected to mention she still had Susan’s gold nugget. She wondered if Susan would approve.
After breakfast Mother fetched a straw bonnet and placed it firmly on Katherine’s head. The hat slid over her eyebrows and covered her ears. With fingers made strong over ma
ny months of kneading bread, milking Genevieve, and a dozen other tasks, Mother proceeded to tuck every last strand of Katherine’s rich brown hair up under the hat.
“Ow!” Katherine complained. “You’re hurting me.”
Mother didn’t ease up. “You mustn’t let anyone see your hair like this. What on earth would they think?”
“That I have short hair?”
Mother’s fingers worked even harder, hurting her with their fierce jabs. “Honestly, Katherine, sometimes you drive me to distraction!” Selecting a wide blue ribbon, she tied the hat on with a tight bow under Katherine’s chin. Then she stepped back, planted her hands on her hips, and cocked her head to one side, frowning. “It will have to do.”
Katherine picked up her mother’s hand mirror. “I look ridiculous,” she moaned. “I look like an enormous toadstool.”
“If you don’t want to go...”
“I do.”
“Then you must promise me you will not remove the bonnet.”
Reluctantly, Katherine agreed.
George hitched Duke to the wagon and Katherine followed behind on Nugget.
Almost as bad as the hat, she felt silly wearing a long skirt after becoming used to the much more practical breeches. Worse even than the skirt or hat, however, was sitting on her horse side-saddle. She felt nervous having both legs on the same side, with her right leg bent at an uncomfortable angle. Katherine struggled to maintain her balance, fearing she would topple off at any second.
Nugget felt it too. The horse pressed her ears back and kept twisting her neck to look behind until Katherine patted her soft, warm neck. “It’s all right, girl,” she soothed. A lump rose in her throat. Nugget couldn’t know this would be their last ride together.
They reached the dusty main street of Hope far too soon. A sternwheeler chugged around a bend in the Fraser, billowing black smoke as it readied itself to fight through the rapids up to Yale. Many of the sternwheelers bypassed Hope lately, since Governor Douglas decided to begin the Cariboo Wagon Road upriver at Yale.
Taking the Reins Page 2