Hangtown Creek: A Tale of the California Gold Rush (A Tom Marsh Adventure Book 1)

by John Rose Putnam

  At last, the drunken slur of Norton’s bass drawl, “If I see your stinking face around here again, I cut your gizzard out. You understand me?” Another thud, followed quickly by a grunt. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me?”

  The farmer’s reply was too soft for her to hear, but Norton returned to the tent. She wanted to rush to the man’s side. He was badly hurt. He needed her, and how she longed to be needed again, but she knew she must wait. It was too soon, too dangerous.

  The voice came again, the hated Jack. “Norton, I told you time and again, you got to keep that stuff out of my saloon. I mean it. You break something, you pay for it. Your share is on the bar. Have a drink on the house.” She shivered.

  “Why do I have to give you so much of what I make off of these stupid farmers? I done all the work. All you done is pour the likker.”

  “You ignorant clod! Do you think you could pull off these crooked card games if I didn’t cover for you? Not to mention that you’re doing it in my saloon. I ought to throw you out of here and be done with you. Now shut your mouth and have another drink.”

  “Yeah, all right. I still think I ought to get more of my own money.”

  “Shut up, Norton, and get out.”

  “Bastard.”

  The drunken Norton lurched west down the trail beside the creek. The thin sliver of light that had earlier leaked through the flap faded. She shrank deeper into the shadows. Jack stumbled out of the tent and passed within a few feet of where she hid. If she only had a gun she would kill him right here, right now. Oh my, had she fallen that low?

  Still she waited until she could hear the drunken snores from his ramshackle hut. Now, at last, it was time. She ran to the side of the battered farmer.

  “Shh, don’t talk. Everything’s going to be all right. Relax, I’ll help you.”

  He moaned as she wiped the blood from his face with a bandana.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I know it hurts, but you must be as quiet as you can.” She left the cloth on his forehead and checked him for broken bones.

  Finally her examination ended. She whispered in his ear, “You have a broken arm and several cracked ribs. Your nose is also broken, and you’re missing some teeth. As hard as it is for you to believe, you’re a lucky man. You’ll live. He didn’t use the knife on you. Your legs seem all right. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” The blood in his mouth caused him to mumble. He turned and spat. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend. I’ll help you up, and we’ll go to your campsite. No one will hurt you there. Norton won’t follow you, but you mustn’t go back to the tent. If he sees you he’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, thank you. Say, aren’t you Jack’s Injun—?”

  “Shh, someone might hear you. She took the good arm and helped him sit up then slowly get to his feet. He was unsteady, but she pulled the arm around her shoulder and braced him. “I know the way, just lean on me and walk slowly.”

  She led him to his campsite and laid him out on his bedroll. They were far enough away from the tent now. She felt secure enough to tend his wounds.

  “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, an answer of bravado more than reality.

  “Do you have any whiskey?”

  “In my saddlebags.”

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She found the bottle. He winced as she poured some of the liquor on the open cuts around his face. Then she held the bottle out for him. “Here, drink as much of this as you can.”

  He took a long pull of the numbing spirits. She left him and built up the fire. While she waited for water to boil, she scoured the campsite for other things she would need. When she came back, the bottle was almost empty.

  “Drink it all. You’ll need it soon enough.”

  He did as she ordered and drained the last of the liquor. She went for the boiling water. When she returned, the farmer had succumbed to the alcohol. She worked quickly, then quietly slipped into the darkness.

  Tom edged through the cabin door carrying a burlap bag in each hand, one with his clothes and one with the cooking gear for the trail. He stopped to shut the door, but Hank yelled out as he came from the barn with the buckskin. “You got your gear together, Tom?”

  “Yeah, this is all of it.”

  “Get the sorrel saddled and strap those bags on her. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  Tom walked to where the brown mare with the pretty tan mane waited. He left the front door open. They were going away. They weren’t coming back. There was no reason to wrestle the darn thing closed.

  “Jess, make sure you get that load tied down tight. We don’t want to lose nothing if that mule starts bucking again.”

  “Keep your shirt on, big brother. I’ll tie her down good.”

  Since Pa brought the news about gold, Jess’s attitude had changed. Always different from the rest, his hair and eyes way darker than Hank’s and a good hand taller than Pa, now he pitched in, helping out like everybody did, excited about the gold.

  When Tom got the mare saddled and the gear tied on, he scratched the horse’s nose and whispered in her ear, “Sorry about all the extra stuff you got to carry, Sadie, but don’t fret none. We can’t go faster than the mule, so it won’t be too tough on you.”

  Sadie nuzzled her nose into his armpit and snorted. “That’s a good girl, Sadie. You’re going to be fine.”

  Again Hank barked, “You done with that mule, Jess?”

  “Just about. She ain’t going to throw this load off.”

  “Tom, you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Where’s Pa?”

  “Pa, let’s go!” Hank yelled out, but there was no answer. “He must have gone up the hill. Tom, you want to ride up and get him?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Don’t take too long,” Hank’s tone had changed. It was softer, gentler than the one he used when he barked orders to everyone. Tom knew why Hank figured he’d want to go. He climbed on Sadie and started out after Pa.

  Sadie knew the way. He let her have her head through the scrub oak along the side of the hill. Soon he could see the top of the hickory tree at the peak. When he crested the rise, Pa’s gelding nipped at the grass near it. He left the mare beside him.

  Pa knelt in the shade. Tom didn’t want to disturb him, but he knew he had to. “Pa, I’m sorry, but Hank says we’re ready to go now.”

  “I know, Tom. I heard you coming up the hill. It was good of Hank to send you. He knew you’d want to come. Can you give me another few minutes?”

  “Sure I can.” He walked over to Sadie and stroked her nose while he waited. Soon Pa stood and walked toward him.

  “Okay, Tom. I’ll wait for you. Try not to take too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He knelt in the same spot Pa had, there in the shade of the tree beside the rock. The tears welled in his eyes again, but this wasn’t the time to cry, not yet. He talked softly, but he knew she would hear him and that was all that mattered.

  “Ma, I reckon Pa told you about us leaving. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you. I guess you know things ain’t been so good since . . . well, since you been gone. Now we went and lost the farm. I don’t know when I’ll make it back here. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared, Ma.”

  He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. The tears had started. He couldn’t stop them. “And I’m awful bothered about Pa. Ever since . . . I ain’t saying it’s your fault, Ma, honest, but ever since you been gone he ain’t been the same. Sure, he’s trying. He’s trying hard, but he’s always tired and just don’t seem to be like he used to be. I don’t understand, Ma.” Once more he wiped at his face.

  “If it weren’t for Hank nothing would get done around here. I guess you know that Jess’s been chasing the cow, like you used to tell us when Pa did it. Anyway, that’s why we got to leave here. I really need you now, Ma. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going to
happen. Oh, God, Ma, I miss you so much.”

  The tears flowed freely now, and he let them roll until he could cry no more. Then he wiped his face again and stood. “Goodbye, Ma. I love you. I’ll come back someday, I promise.” He walked slowly back to Pa, trying his best to hide the red in his eyes.

  “You all right, Tom?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Come here.”

  He walked to Pa, his head still down. Soon he felt the arms wrap around him and he was pulled close. “I know all this is real hard on you. It’s been hard on you since your Ma died. I reckon it’s my doing, but I want you to know I love you. I’ll do anything I can for you. Things are going to look up for us.” Pa tousled his hair while he took a breath.

  “Now you can look at this like a great adventure. You’re going to see new places, meet new people, learn some of what the world outside of this farm is really like. You were real young when we come out here, but you done fine then, and that was a long, hard trip all the way across the country. You’re going to do just fine this time. Just fine.”

  “Thanks, Pa.”

  “Look at me.”

  Tom stepped away and raised his head. The red eyes were embarrassing, but he knew Pa would understand.

  “You’re going to be a man someday soon, but till then me and your brothers ain’t going to let nothing bad happen to you. Now why don’t you give me one of your smiles and let’s get on with this.”

  Tom managed to produce a weak smile. Pa reached out and mussed his blond mop again, and the smile grew. “I’ll be all right. Long as I got you and Hank and Jess, I ain’t afraid.”

  “That’s my boy. Let’s head down to your brothers. We got a lot of riding to do.”

  They rode down the hill together. Hank and Jess were mounted and waiting for them in front of the cabin.

  Pa motioned toward the road. “Let’s go, Hank.”

  “All right. Let’s ride,” Hank called.

  Jess yelled out, “Wahoo! Look out goldfields, here we come!” He gave the pinto a kick and raced down the trail, waving his hat and hollering as he rode.

  Hank and Pa followed him at a walk, but Tom stopped and took a long look at the only home he had ever really known. The brown sod roof atop the log cabin melted into the sunbaked hill where Ma rested. The open front door with the loose hinge seemed meaningless now. He had said his farewell to Ma. Somehow now he felt better. Pa was right. It was going to be an adventure, with new places and new people.

  “Goodbye, old house. I’ll always remember the good times here, and the bad ones too, I reckon.” He reached down and patted Sadie’s tan neck. “Come on, girl. We’d best go.”

  He turned the mare and followed his family along the dusty trail that led into the unknown world beyond the farm. A strange sense of excitement trickled up his spine.

  The day was hot, brutally hot, but unlike the vast, treeless valley, the forested foothills brought welcome relief from the direct rays of the sun. Joshua pulled off the dark blue forage cap and wiped the sweat from his brown hair with a bandana.

  He studied the cap before he put it back on. He could have gotten a new one in Sacramento City but he hadn’t. The well-worn hat held a lot of meaning for him. It carried memories of the last two years, memories he couldn’t easily let go.

  He turned as an older man, gray sprinkled in his hair and beard, rode up beside him. “Do you smell smoke, Eban?”

  “There’s a creek around the bend. Could be somebody’s camped on it. Maybe they’ll spare us a cup of coffee. I could use one.”

  After a gradual descent around a curve to the south, they came to a small stream that crossed the road and tumbled down into a small green meadow sheltered by the cool canopy of a spreading bay tree. A man, his back against the trunk, lay sprawled beside a barely smoldering campfire.

  “Something’s not right here, Eban. Keep an eye out. I’ll check on him.” He dismounted and walked over. The stranger had one arm in a sling, both eyes black, and a face badly battered and swollen. “This man’s hurt bad. He’s out cold.”

  Eban pulled a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebags then knelt beside the wounded man. “He’s sure a mess. I ain’t seen a man beat like this since the war. He ran into a real bad feller.” Eban wiped the sweat from the man’s brow. This produced a sigh.

  “It looks like he might come around.” Joshua turned toward the fire and poked at the embers with a stick until red, glowing coals and a whisper of a flame appeared. He threw in two more pieces of kindling. “There’s a pot of coffee here. It’s still warm.”

  Eban popped the cork and took a quick nip from the whiskey bottle. “Somebody did a good job patching him up. Broken arm was set right nice, cracked ribs were bound up real pretty. Sure got a lot of bumps and bruises. His face is a mess.”

  The man stirred, moaned, then mumbled a few incoherent words. His eyes popped open, a look of fright across his face. “Who are you?”

  “Relax, mister, we’re friends. Name’s Eban Snyder. The tall feller here is Joshua Stone. We ain’t going to hurt you none. Looks like somebody beat us to it anyhow. We was on our way to the logging camp when we run across you. What happened?”

  Joshua poured three cups of coffee, handed one to Eban, another to the injured man.

  “Thanks.” The man relaxed a bit. “Name’s Rufus Ward. Got a farm down in the Santa Clara Valley and a wife who’ll take care of me. I guess I’m glad you happened by. I must’ve passed out. I was trying to get home and I just couldn’t go no further.” He took a sip of the coffee.

  Eban pulled the bottle from his pocket. “How about I sweeten that up for you?” Rufus held out his cup. Eban topped it off with the whiskey.

  Rufus took another, bigger sip of the whiskey-laced coffee. “You say you’re heading to the logging camp? I come from there. You best watch yourselves around that saloon in the tent. Got in a card game last night with a man named Norton. Caught him cheating me and got this for my trouble. Hit me so quick I never seen it coming. Then he drug me outside and really laid it on me. Reckon I look pretty bad.”

  Eban shook his head. “I seen worse. Norton, you say? Big, tall feller with a black, scruffy beard?” Rufus nodded. “I worked up here before the war. Hauled many a load of lumber down this very road all the way to the fort. Norton was a problem back then. Always fighting. Don’t recall no saloon.”

  “Run by a man everybody calls Smiling Jack.”

  “Don’t recall no Smiling Jack either.”

  “Showed up right before Captain Sutter did. He was mining there a while back. Them Kanakas Sutter’s got working for him spent so much time in the saloon they wasn’t getting the mining done and the Captain left the place. Some say he was right peeved.”

  Eban nodded. “Them Kanakas are from the Sandwich Islands. They can be a sociable lot. Stands to reason they’d be drinking a bit. We heard at the fort that Sutter was up here. That’s why Josh and me come this way. Who was it what fixed you up?”

  “Don’t rightly know. It was a woman. She come out of nowhere and set my arm and all. She was gone when I come around this morning. Must’ve been Smiling Jack’s Injun woman. It’s funny, cause she talked better than I do.”

  Joshua perked up. “So there are women at this camp?”

  Rufus shook his head. “Well, not really. Jack’s Injun woman’s the only one I know of. She’s a strange one, stays up in the hills. All week she watched me from the edge of the woods, but nobody’s ever seen her up close, least not in the daylight. Some guys say Jack’ll kill you if you mess with her.”

  Joshua held out the pot of coffee and refilled all three cups. “You must have seen her. She fixed you up. Was she an Indian?”

  “It was dark and I was in bad shape. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like. I just remember she didn’t sound like no Injun.”

  Eban topped off all three cups from the bottle. “Looks like she done a good job on you. You probably got thumped on the head a bit. It’s bound to cause you some pr
oblems, but it’ll pass sooner or later.”

  Joshua stood and looked to the west. “It’ll be dark soon. I think we’d best stay here overnight. I expect Rufus could use some company.”

  “Yeah, I think I’d appreciate some folks around. I ain’t doing too well by myself.”

  Shortly after sunrise they said their goodbyes to Rufus Ward and by mid-morning arrived at a long, narrow valley with a steep face of bare rock to the south. Behind that rock to the east and curving around to the north stood the conifer-covered foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Through the center ran the stream that had taken its name from the captain and was called Sutter’s Creek. Tents, shacks and campsites lay along its banks. Men stood knee-deep in its waters, hard at work in their quest for the yellow metal they hoped would make them wealthy men.

  Where the wagon road met the stream sat the large, white tent that must be Smiling Jack’s Saloon. Joshua tied his mustang to the rail beside Eban’s dun. After such a long trip it was fitting to celebrate their arrival with a drink, even if it was in a place so severely condemned by Rufus Ward. But before he went inside Joshua turned back toward the hill they rode beside to enter the valley. “Eban, do you get the feeling somebody is watching us?”

  Eban shrugged. “I ain’t thought about it none. There’re a lot of folks around. I expect some might be curious.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Maybe talking to Rufus has me edgy. Let’s see this Smiling Jack and his saloon.”

  They parted the flaps and entered the tent. Two miners sat on three-legged stools at a table toward the rear. Behind the bar—two rough planks stretched across barrels—stood the barkeep, Smiling Jack, wiping his bar with a dirty rag. Business was slow at this early hour.

  Joshua threw a coin onto the planks. “Brandy.”

  Jack set a bottle on the bar. “Got no brandy. It’s whiskey or nothing here.”

  “Whiskey’s fine.”

  Jack poured two shots. “You fellers come up looking for gold?”

  Joshua could see how he had gotten his nickname. The jagged, half-round scar across his cheek pulled one side of his mouth into a smirk. He tried not to stare. “We thought we might try our luck at mining. There are a fair number of people already here. Has anyone struck it big yet?”