8 The Rancho on Deer Creek Slough
The sun had passed beyond the horizon. The first stars of evening twinkled in a darkening sky as Eban opened the gate that separated the farmhouse on the bank of Deer Creek Slough from the valley’s grassland.
As they stopped at the well a woman appeared in the open door, a blue gingham apron over her calico dress. Long, brown pigtails dangled past her shoulders as she leaned out to look. “Eban Snyder, is that you? Who’s with you?” It was Sarah Daylor, the young and very recent bride of Eban’s longtime friend.
“Evening, Sarah. It’s been a long ride. Can you spare some water and a hot meal?”
“Help yourself to the water. Then come in and we’ll fix you something to eat, and welcome. It gets real lonesome way out here. We don’t get much company.”
“I reckon so. You remember Joshua Stone, don’t you? He was with me last time we passed by. And this young lady is named Maggie Magee.”
Joshua helped Maggie down from Eban’s horse.
“Maggie? My Lord, Maggie Magee! Is that really you?” Sarah rushed from the door. “Heavens, we thought you were dead. Oh, Lord, you’re a mess. You come with me.” She grabbed Maggie’s arm and hurried her toward the house.
Another woman appeared in the doorway. In a red checked apron and darker pigtails, slightly taller and thinner than Sarah, Catherine Sheldon looked a lot like her sister. “Maggie! Oh heavens, it is you!” Fire flared from her eyes. “Eban Snyder, what have you done to this woman, you no-good so and so?” She helped Sarah hustle Maggie inside then slammed the door.
Joshua led his horse to the water trough. “Well, it seems our new companion has friends in places other than Sutter’s Creek. How do you suppose they know her?”
“That’s a pig in a poke, but I reckon we’ll find out.”
“I guess she had a life before she got tied up with Jack. Maybe they can get her settled down a bit.”
Eban shrugged. “We’d best look after the animals or we might be walking come morning.”
They took the horses to the barn and settled them in for the night. Soon the door to the cabin opened again and Catherine Sheldon appeared in its frame.
“Eban Snyder, I owe you an apology. You and Joshua get cleaned up. We’ll call you when the food is ready.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We’re much obliged.” He grinned at Joshua as they scrubbed at the dirt of the last several days. Soon Catherine called them inside. At the plank table she poured coffee then hurried back to a pot bubbling on the stove. There was no sign of Maggie or Sarah.
Eban picked up the mug and smiled. Colorful orange poppies were hand painted on the outside. “Catherine, this is mighty kind of you. We’re powerful hungry, and I recall you’re a darn good cook.” He took a sip of the coffee.
“You’re welcome, Eban.” She looked down quickly and shook her head. “I guess I owe you an explanation. Maggie came out here on the same wagon train we did. Her husband and son took to the cholera just east of the high pass over the Sierra, and they had to drop back. That crossing had to be made before the snow came so we went on.
“The last time I saw her, Maggie was driving the wagon, her husband and son in the back bad sick. Later we saw smoke behind us. Some of the men went to check on them. They found the wagon burning, Maggie and the animals gone, and Timothy and Timmy dead in the back. We figured Indians took Maggie off.
“She’s a fine lady. If anybody needed help on the train, she’d be right there, and nobody ever heard her complain. She loved her family so much.” Catherine’s eyes filled with sadness. She turned to the stove and stirred the pot.
Joshua leaned forward. “Has she told you anything about what happened to her after that? How did she get to Sutter’s Creek?”
“No, not while I was with her. She just said you were trying to help her. Maybe she’ll talk to Sarah.” Catherine wiped her hands on the red apron. “Anyhow, I hope a good meal will make up for my bad manners.” She ladled up a bowl of beef stew and put it in front of Joshua. The bowl was painted with white daisies. She filled another for Eban, this one with deep scarlet peonies.
Joshua’s elbows were still on the table. He hadn’t looked at the stew. “Is she all right? I mean, she hasn’t said much to us either.”
“She seems healthy enough, but whatever happened has left a large mark on her soul. I never saw anyone so broken up inside. She seems to like you, Joshua. She keeps mentioning your name.” Catherine walked to the oven and peeked inside. Then she pulled a sheet of hot biscuits out, put them into a cloth-covered bowl, and passed the bowl to Joshua. “Sarah’s helping her get cleaned up. It took a while to get that Indian grease out of her hair. Sarah will get her some clothes and other stuff. She doesn’t have anything a woman needs.”
Joshua tasted the stew. “Ma’am, this is the best meal I’ve had in years.”
“Thank you, Joshua.” She smiled. “How did you two meet Maggie anyway?”
Eban put his coffee down and hooked his thumb to the east. “We found her up at the old Sutter logging camp. A whiskey seller named Smiling Jack had her dressed up like she was his squaw. I reckon he weren’t too good to her. Joshua pulled her away from Jack this morning. We dressed her in some of Josh’s clothes and brung her here on the way to Sacramento City. Jack is probably after us. There could be some trouble.”
“Jack. Is that the same whiskey peddler from up north near Johnson’s Ranch?”
Eban nodded. “I reckon he is.”
“My Lord! He sold whiskey to the men in our wagon train. How did that vile, godless creature ever get his hands on such a sweet, loving woman as Maggie? This can be a cruel land, Eban. Wait here and eat. I’ll let the Indians know we may have visitors. Jack won’t get past them tonight, and you can get a good night sleep. Lord knows you can use it.” She left the cabin.
Eban swabbed a biscuit in the stew. “Those Injuns are real loyal to Sheldon and Daylor. Jack won’t get close tonight.”
The door to the back room opened. Sarah came out with Maggie in tow. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet the real Maggie Magee.” She stepped aside, waving her arm wide toward Maggie.
Joshua’s mouth dropped. He leaped to his feet. “Maggie, you’re beautiful.”
Josh had said it all. Her red hair glowed in the lamplight. Her green eyes sparkled. The calico dress curved around her figure, accenting her charms. He stood too, but a lot slower than Joshua had. “Maggie, you’re enough to warm an old man’s cold heart.”
Sarah beamed at the glowing reception of her handiwork. Maggie looked down shyly, as if she didn’t know how to respond to the attention.
Joshua took her arm and gallantly helped her to a chair. Catherine walked in from the yard and served her stew and coffee but, instead of eating, Maggie’s eyes locked into Joshua’s, and he reveled in the beauty that the ragged, dirty waif of Sutter’s Creek had suddenly become.
She picked at her food, eating little, looking up often at Joshua sitting across the table from her. They began to chat, the proper small talk of a man and woman who have just met. Both seemed leery of any subject that would bring back their recent problems.
Sarah busied herself stacking dishes in a leaded glass china cabinet next to an open window on the west wall, while keeping a keen ear to Maggie’s conversation. When a lull came, she looked to the window. “You know, it’s real nice down along the slough at night. It’s cool under the cottonwoods and beautiful in the moonlight. Joshua, maybe you and Maggie should take a walk down there?”
Joshua followed Sarah’s finger. He pulled on his ear and grinned. “That’s an excellent idea.” He popped up, snapped his heels together, and, standing ramrod straight like a soldier on parade, he bent slightly from the waist. “It would be my honor, madam, if you would accompany me on a walk by the water.”
Maggie looked to Sarah, unsure how she should answer him.
Sarah waved her hand, shooing Maggie toward the door. “You go right ahead. I don’t see how any decent woman coul
d refuse an invitation like that.”
Joshua walked, or more like marched, around the end of the table to where Maggie sat and helped her to her feet. She took his arm, and he ushered her into the night.
Catherine sat down in Maggie’s empty chair. “If somebody asked me to walk in the moonlight like that man just asked her, married or not, I’d do it.”
Eban drained the coffee from the flowered cup. “Catherine, you and Sarah ain’t here alone are you? I ain’t seen no sign of your men since I been here.” The ranch had once been a regular stop for him as he hauled wagonloads of timber from Sutter’s Creek to the fort. For both men to be away at the same time was unusual.
“Oh, Eban, I suppose they’re fine. They caught this gold fever that’s been going around. They’re out there somewhere, looking for gold. They promised that one or the other would come back every week or so and check on us. Last time they said they had found some gold. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Josh and me done a bit of panning up at Sutter’s Creek. Didn’t find much. I reckon we could make more at cards than with all that stooping and digging.”
Catherine had a faraway look on her face. Maybe she wished she could be out looking for gold. “The Mormons up above the fort have been doing real well, I hear. Maybe you were just in the wrong place.”
“Maybe so. We heard the stories too. We’ll hear more when we get to the fort tomorrow. Do you suppose you could spare a horse and saddle for Maggie? I’ll be happy to pay you for it. Riding double’s been hard on all of us.”
Catherine smiled. She seemed truly happy to help. “You bet we can, Eban. Just take what you need. You can square it with one of the men when you meet up.”
“That’s kind of you, Catherine. We’re all much obliged. But now it’s late and we need an early start. Josh and me will bed down in the barn if that’s all right.”
“Eban.” Sarah sat down beside him and leaned in close like she had a secret to share. “I talked with Maggie after Catherine came in here. I don’t know all of what happened, but I’ve never seen any woman that scared. She’s sure Smiling Jack is coming after her. He got her from a half-breed named Cherokee Bill. Neither of them treated her like a woman deserves. She’s been hurt bad. I want to thank you for what you’ve done, but you could be in real trouble.”
“Cherokee Bill! I’ve heard about him selling young Injun brides for years. Selling an Injun gal is bad enough, but both of them had to know Maggie ain’t Injun. Maybe we’re in more trouble than I reckoned.”
Sarah looked straight into Eban’s eyes, a frown on her face. “You’re good enough friends with our men that they wouldn’t get riled if we told you where they were. The last we heard they were at Weber Creek with some of our Indians. It’s only a half-day due east of here and north of the Consumnes. But if you’re over on the American River, there’s a trail south from Coloma that will take you there. You’ll be welcome. I’m sure of that.”
Eban stood and reached for his hat. “Thank you, Sarah, Catherine.” He spun the hat in his hands as he walked to the door. “If we do get in trouble, knowing where to find good friends can be mighty handy.”
Maggie held onto Joshua’s arm as they walked quietly towards the water. The moon, rising over the crest of the Sierra Nevada, cast long shadows deep into the stillness. From down the slough a lonely bullfrog croaked mournfully, soon answered by a higher pitched friend upstream. A legion of cicadas chirped from the tall grass across the way.
They stopped under a cottonwood, her hand still locked on his arm. She looked up into the great spray of stars sparkling against a black velvet sky. “It is beautiful here tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s lovely, and you, Maggie, have undergone a most remarkable transformation. You look breathtaking.” He lowered his head.
“Please . . . not now.” She squeezed his arm gently, pulling him a little closer just so he would know she cared. “I appreciate your compliments. I really do. It’s been so long since I felt like a woman, but so much has happened. Can we just enjoy the moonlight, the cool night air and each other, please?”
“Sure, Maggie, if that’s what you want. I’m sorry. Eban had it right when he said you had me a bit out of sorts. I’m even more out of sorts now, I guess. I’ve never met a woman like you before. Well, look at me. I’ve done it again.”
She laughed softly. “No, I’m the one who owes you an apology. You saved me and I treated you shabbily for it. I’m ashamed of myself. I didn’t know what a wonderful man you really are.”
“But I acted so unlike a gentleman should. I attacked a woman. I held you to the ground against your will. I raised my voice to you. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Joshua, Joshua, you don’t understand. I watched you all week, hoping you would save me and so afraid of what Jack would do if you did. When you had me on the ground last night, a part of me was terrified, yes, terrified you were just like Jack, terrified you would beat me, terrified I could go from a horrible situation into an even worse one. But somewhere a whole other part of me beamed with joy. That part of me wanted to pull you close to me, to hold you in my arms, to kiss you again and again. Yes, that part of me would have rolled around in the grass with you all night.”
He looked into her face. She could see his hunger clearly. “And which part of you am I dealing with tonight?”
She raised her head and closed her eyes, and he kissed her. She wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him closer. The deep-throated bullfrog croaked again. The high-pitched answer come quickly from upstream, intruding into the unceasing chirp from across the slough,
At last she pushed him back, gently. “Joshua, please, it’s too soon. We shouldn’t,” she whispered, softly, breathy. Regretting her words even as she said them.
“I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t ever be sorry.” She ran her hand up his back and into his hair then pulled him to her. It had been too long. She couldn’t stop. She kissed him again, deeper this time. Across the slough the cicadas chirred on, uninterrupted.
9 Sacramento City
Bill stirred. His eyes snapped open to the first faint rays of the new day. His head hurt. His mouth was dry, and he was cold. Pulling himself to his feet, he stepped over Jack who was passed out on the ground in front of a fallen tree. Several empty whiskey bottles lay about.
They drank a lot of whiskey while waiting for Norton. He had lagged behind them by miles, and still lay in the same place he was last night, right where he fell off his horse after he finally showed up. Fresh blood seeped through his bandages. Bill knew he should have shot the wounded bully yesterday. Already Norton had cost them a lot of time. Once the woman got to Sacramento City, anything could happen.
Bill gathered the makings for a fire and soon had water boiling. He brewed coffee and half-filled a cup, then topped it off with whiskey. He walked over to Jack and kicked him in the thigh. “Get up.”
Jack moaned and stirred but did not waken. Bill kicked him again. “Ain’t got all day.”
Jack’s eyes popped open. He moaned again and grabbed his head. “Oh! Don’t ever kick me again.” Jack sat up and shivered. “I feel rotten!”
“Coffee’s on. Help yourself.” Bill walked to Norton. He pulled the bar rags off the gunshots and looked them over. The leg wound was red and festered. Puss and blood oozed from the hole. Shaking his head, he retied the filthy bandages. Norton was a dead man. Soon the red would reach his heart. Till then he would grow more miserable, and more of a problem.
He slapped Norton’s face. He came alert at once. His eyes seemed sober beneath the red. The long rest on the hard ground must have done him good.
Pushing with his good arm, Norton struggled to sit up. “Where am I? What happened? Oh, man, I hurt.”
“In the valley. Soldier shot you. Able to ride?” Bill walked toward the fire without waiting for an answer.
“Shot? Oh, yeah, the tin soldier. Yeah, I can ride.�
��
He brought Norton coffee laced with the last of the whiskey, and had everyone on their horses and riding by the time the sun rose. If he kept the pace at a walk, Norton, no longer under the influence of such large quantities of alcohol, could keep up. But now Bill had to listen to his continual carping about his wounds.
By early afternoon they crossed the Consumnes and neared Deer Creek Slough. Bill stopped. “Injuns. Watching us from across the water.”
Jack offered what he knew. “That’s them two ranchers, Sheldon and Daylor’s spread. They got Injuns working there.”
“Miwoks. Stay on the trail. Won’t bother us.” Bill rode into the slough. The ranch house soon appeared on his left. In the sand of the trail he saw the tracks he sought. “Left near sunup. Got a horse for the woman. Heading to the fort.”
The news brought a twitch to Jack’s scarred face. “We’ll ride all night. We can catch up to them by sunrise.”
“I’ll tear that tinhorn to pieces,” Norton crowed.
Bill spit. Only a small man bragged of what he would do to another. Never let on about your plans for revenge. Attack with speed and surprise, then walk away. No need for words. He put his hand on the grip of his pistol. Norton was a dead man anyway. Best shoot him now.
Jack spurred his mount and blocked Bill’s shot. “Norton, you ain’t going to do nothing if we don’t get moving. Just shut up and ride.”
Bill scowled. “Shut your spatting. Now!” He rode off at a trot, leaving the others no choice but to follow. Jack caught up quickly, but Norton lagged behind. “Can’t abide snivelers. Keep Norton out of my face.”
“He’ll be all right. Just don’t let him get in your craw so bad.”
“Ain’t my craw he’s in. Kill him if I got to.”
“Don’t be so peevish. I need him. He’ll kill the soldier.”
“Ain’t peevish. Full of his mouth.”
“I’ll keep on him.”
“You better.”
Hangtown Creek: A Tale of the California Gold Rush (A Tom Marsh Adventure Book 1) Page 9