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

by John Rose Putnam

  He’d rescued her from Jack and last night had held her tenderly. He seemed to care for her. But how would he, a gentleman, an officer in the army, really feel about a woman like her? He had found her like a tramp with a drunken whiskey peddler. A slut, that’s what Jack called her. Was that what she was? Would Joshua hold her, use her, and now that it looks chancy, dump her?

  Soiled and dirtied by the filthy hands of Jack could any man want her? Would any man ever love her and marry her? Was he suggesting San Francisco to get rid of her?

  The room began to empty. It was time to leave. She had to know. “Will you walk me to my room, Joshua?”

  “Of course, my pleasure.” He helped her up and offered her his arm.

  They crossed the lobby together, her hand properly above his elbow. Mrs. Moran nodded approvingly at the calico dress. Upstairs he unlocked her door and ushered her into the room. He followed her in then pulled her close.

  She twisted away from him sharply then slumped into the chair in front of the dresser.

  He lit a lamp by the door, turned it low then walked behind her. She caught his reflection as he sat on the bed near the window. Earlier today she wanted nothing more than to be with him, yet she had pulled away from him. The woman in the glass stared at her hard, the piercing question boring into her eyes. Did the new woman she had become have the strength to face Joshua now? She slowly turned toward the window.

  He smiled at her. She gulped. Why did he always seem to care about her? It would be easier if he didn’t. If he thought she was a slut, wouldn’t it show?

  She gazed past him, out the window, searching for the right words. How do you ask a man if he thinks you’re a slut? A single light in the dark, probably a lamp on an American River barge, slowly moved east. She stared at it, her mind on him.

  “We’re alone now, Maggie. No one else can hear. I need to know about you and Jack. Why were you at Sutter’s Creek?”

  Slowly her eyes moved from the riverboat to Joshua. She stood. Maybe she had found the strength she sought. “Turn around for a minute. Don’t look at me.”

  His bushy eyebrows rose, puzzled. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” He turned.

  She unbuttoned the dress and shrugged her arms out of the sleeves. “You can look now, Joshua.” She sat in front of the mirror again, her dress pulled down to her waist, a towel covering her breasts. She watched the refection as his eyes found her ravaged, scarred back and quickly turned away. Then slowly, with tiny, pained movements, they crawled back and locked, riveted by what they saw.

  Little by little his bulging gaze narrowed to a squint. His mouth, at first wide with awe, now closed to a snarl. His teeth clenched, his face reddened. He stood and sharply spun around. “I’ve seen enough. Pull your dress up,” he whispered.

  Without a word, she struggled into the dress and buttoned it. The woman in the mirror chewed on her lip and looked like she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, not now, not in front of Joshua. “I’m decent,” she said softly.

  His reflection wheeled back, his eyes bouncing off the glass into hers. “Jack did that to you?”

  She looked down. “Yes, Jack did it. He liked doing it. He enjoyed it.” Her anger quivered through each word, trembling them like an aspen quaking in the wind.

  “He’ll chase you halfway across California to do that?” His arm flashed across the glass. She knew he was asking about the scars on her back.

  She turned, determined to expose him. “You can leave right now and Jack won’t follow you. It’s me he wants. Norton’s a drunk and a fool. You can dodge him easy. Just get your horse and ride out of town.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Damn you, Joshua Stone! Do you think I’ve come this far just to go back with that lousy son of a—?” She yanked the small pistol from inside her dress and waved it at him. “I’ll shoot him if I have to. I’m not going back.” Quaking no longer, her voice turned hard and cold like the steel of the gun.

  “All right, Maggie. Relax, and aim that thing some other way. What do you want me—what do you want us—to do?”

  “Us?” That one word hit her like a splash of cold water. Had she been wrong about him? Did he care about her after all?

  She got up and sat beside him on the bed. “I’ve lost everything I’ve loved in my life. My husband and son are gone. All my possessions, even the memories of what my life had been, were lost when Bill burned our wagon. I have no one. No one.”

  Joshua’s strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, his warm scent in her nose, his hot breath in her ear. “Maggie, I don’t intend to let you go. Tomorrow we leave for Coloma, all three of us.”

  “Thank you, Joshua.” She held him for a long time, chewing her lip to keep the tears away. He did care.

  Finally he kissed her on the forehead. “We have another early start tomorrow. We best get some sleep.”

  After Joshua left she again snapped the bolt shut and leaned against the door. She sighed deeply, then pulled off the calico dress, sat down at the dresser, and unpinned her hair. As she brushed out the tangles, she remembered the rage plastered on Joshua’s face when he had seen her back. Each time Jack had hit her, with each blow from his whip, she had suffered, but she had never seen what it had done to her.

  She stood, her back to the glass, her head craned as far to the rear as possible. The deep red welts from the last beating Jack gave her crossed over darker, raw scars of many earlier ones. Oh, Lord! The tears she had fought so hard to control burst out in deep, wrenching sobs. She buried her head in her hands and finally let them flow.

  10 Confluence

  Shortly after sunrise Bill rode slowly down the street in the boomtown at the meeting of the Sacramento and American Rivers. The doors to a stable stood wide open ahead. He ducked as he entered and rode to the back before he dismounted.

  As he pulled off his saddle Jack came in and stopped beside an old man currying a chestnut. “You, put up our horses, and give them a double order of oats. We’ve had a long, hard ride.” Jack hopped down and started on his own saddle.

  “Oh, yes, sir. I’ll take real good care of your horses. Y’all don’t fret about them at all, no, sir. Got a nice hotel here. Take real good care of you, surely will.”

  Norton’s huge frame ducked under the door. “Don’t need no stinking hotel, you old coot. I need a saloon.” The long night ride had gotten into Norton’s craw. He’d complained that his festered leg ached and that he’d had no whiskey since yesterday morning.

  The old man wagged his currycomb to the west. “The saloon’s right past the hotel, yes, it is. Y’all be here long?”

  Norton threw his good leg across the saddle and slowly slid to the ground so he wouldn’t land on the hurt one. Then he stormed out with a heavy limp, heading toward the barroom.

  The old man gathered the reins to Norton’s horse and walked him toward a stall. Jack stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Looking for a woman, probably with two miners. You seen them?”

  “Don’t remember a woman. No, surely I don’t.” The old man turned, pulled the horse into Jack, brushing him back, and continued to the stall.

  Bill chuckled. “Pay the man, Jack. Get on with this.” The old man had gumption, grit. He didn’t put up with Norton’s sniveling—or Jack’s guff.

  “Their horses in here?” Jack asked.

  “All of them. There in town somewhere.” He walked to the stable door.

  Jack soon joined him. “They’ll be in that hotel. Let Norton drink his fill and we’ll finish this.”

  “Been here midnight weren’t for that pile of dung. Ought to shoot him.”

  “Relax, we’re near done now.”

  Joshua’s mind tumbled with images of Maggie’s lacerated back. He was decked out in his West Point dress grays, saber flashing, dueling for the honor of a noble lady. The lady was Maggie. She was crying.

  A riverboat chugged upstream against a rushing current, its engines throbbing, its great stack
s belching black smoke against the wind. He was the captain, strong at the helm, guiding the massive machine past the sandbars and snags the mighty river put in his way.

  His reverie darkened. He faced them again across the valley. Blue coats with red sashes—the Mexican lancers. “Charge!” Who gave that order? Gunfire! Screams! Men are dying. His horse is down. He’s trapped. A lancer appears, spear in hand. He’s laughing, leering. It’s Jack! “Jack!”

  He jerked awake, fumbling for the Colt. It was light outside. He could hear noise from the street below. He found the pistol and cocked it.

  “Take it easy, Josh. It was just a dream.” Eban stood by the window, already dressed.

  “Oh, Lord.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his head in his hands.

  “You got to let it go. San Pasqual wasn’t your fault.”

  He reached for his pants. “I don’t know, Eban. I just don’t know.”

  A soft knock came at the door. “Joshua! Joshua, are you all right?”

  He pulled the pants up then stood to button the fly. “You better let her in.”

  Maggie, dressed only in a housecoat, rushed past Eban and clenched his arm in both her hands. “I heard you screaming all the way across the hall. It sounded like you said Jack!” Her whole body shook; even her words vibrated off her tongue.

  “It was just a dream, a dream about the war. Somehow Jack snuck into it.”

  She pulled back from him so she could look into his face. “You screamed. That’s not just a simple dream.”

  Back at the window, Eban peered through the curtain. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it wasn’t just a dream. Maybe it was a warning. There’s Norton, hobbling up the street.”

  “Norton! Jack’s here somewhere.” Maggie wrapped her arms around her chest, her eyes wide, her face white. She walked tentatively to the window. Joshua followed.

  “There’s Jack, walking with some other fellow.” Joshua voice was unruffled.

  Eban nodded. “Yeah, a mountain man, carrying a Hawken rifle. Is that the one you saw in the brush by Maggie’s hut?”

  “It could be.” Joshua turned to Maggie. She trembled, her arms still clutched about her. “Do you know him?”

  “It’s Bill. They call him Cherokee Bill.”

  He glanced at Eban. Until now he thought no one would come after her, in spite of her fears. “It looks like they’re heading for the saloon. When they get enough liquor in them they’ll come for us. We’d best get out of here. Are you ready to go, Maggie?”

  “I’ve got to dress.”

  “Hurry. We need to leave while they’re out of sight.”

  “Joshua, I’m frightened.”

  “We’ll be all right, but we have to get out of here fast, and without being seen.”

  Bill stopped just inside the saloon. The barkeep stoked a stove to the left of the bar, a pot of coffee on top. Norton stood at the bar, a half-empty bottle in front of him.

  Jack walked up by Norton and poured himself a drink from the bottle. “My woman’s over at that hotel. It’ll be over soon. We can head back today. Couple of more drinks and we go.”

  Norton snarled, “I’ll kill that soldier boy. I ain’t been so miserable in years.”

  “Go ahead drink your fill. We got them now.”

  Bill bought his own bottle and sat at a table facing the door, his back to the wall. Jack came over and sat by Bill. “Norton’s liable to break that soldier boy in half if he gets a chance.”

  Bill scowled. “Holding me up. Need to get this done.”

  Suddenly Norton slammed a glass onto the bar. “I need more likker!” The barkeep hurried over.

  Bill pulled up the rifle, checked the load then put the gun back on the table.

  Jack sweated even with the early morning chill. “Maybe you’re right. My woman could get out of here before Norton’s ready. Why don’t you keep an eye on that hotel, just in case?”

  “Maybe I should.” Bill walked to the door, rifle in one hand, whiskey in the other.

  Mrs. Moran was not at the desk when they came downstairs. Good luck—they didn’t have time to deal with her. Joshua pulled the Colt and opened the front door slowly. He saw no sign of their pursuers. He signaled Eban and Maggie outside then followed them.

  The smell of fresh coffee filled the stable. It reminded Joshua that they hadn’t eaten breakfast. They found their horses and started saddling up.

  Obadiah came in with a cup in his hand. “Morning, gents.” He looked straight at Maggie. “Glad to see you again, ma’am, yes, I am.” She didn’t answer as she struggled to get the saddle onto the chestnut. “Y’all are up early, sure are. Care for a cup of coffee, would you?”

  Joshua’s stomach growled. “No, thank you, Obadiah. We have a long ride ahead of us. We’d best be on our way.” He would like nothing better than to have at least one cup of coffee before he left.

  “Suit yourselves. There’s plenty a coffee, yes, sir. Made a big pot after them three fellers come in at sunrise, but they like whiskey more than coffee, they does. Looking for a woman, they said. She’s riding with two men. I told them I ain’t seen no woman, no, I ain’t. Well, y’all have a good trip, yes indeed.”

  Joshua looked into the old black man’s eyes. “Thank you, Obadiah.”

  “Oh, ain’t nothing, nothing at all.” He smiled, touched the brim of his beat up straw hat to Maggie, then turned back into his room and shut the door.

  Eban opened the back doors to the stable. “We can leave this way. They won’t be able to see us from the street for a while.” They mounted and rode out into the morning sun, and off toward the gold country along the American River.

  Bill crossed to a dry goods store, took a seat in a chair with a good view of the hotel, and started in on his whiskey again. He would be glad when this was done.

  It could prove to be a dirty bit if the two men with Maggie put up a fight, or her for that matter. She was a feisty one, that Maggie. A smile crossed his face. He liked women with spunk, and she had more than most.

  He would wait. See how it played out. With Norton on edge anything could happen. It’d be best to hang back. Let others take the lead, the first shots, then clean up the mess. Who knows? He could easily wind up with the woman. Just like he wanted.

  Norton lurched out of the saloon, Jack close behind. Bill drained the whiskey, tossed the empty bottle into the street, and picked up the rifle. He followed Jack across to the empty hotel lobby where Jack spun the register, waved for them to follow and charged up the stairs.

  At the end of the hall Jack turned to the room facing the back. Norton kicked in the door then burst inside. A beat of quiet, a groan, glass smashing, then Norton’s whining bass, “What the—where are they?”

  Bill pushed open the door across the hall. Empty. The woman had fled. “Get to the stable.” He ran down the stairs, through the lobby, along the street, into the stable and straight to the back. He quickly found tracks of the three horses and followed them through the open rear doors.

  “You fellers are back real soon, yes, you are.”

  He spun at the slow drawl. The old stable hand had stepped out of a stall, a rake in his hand, just as Jack pulled up beside him, wheezing and puffing. Bill shook his head and jerked his thumb to the doors.

  Jack’s face flushed red. He stepped menacingly toward the old man. “The woman and the two men, where did they go?” Jack pawed at the scar on his cheek.

  The old man took a step back. “Ain’t no woman been here, no, there ain’t.” He stuck his chin in the air and turned back toward the stall.

  Jack lashed out, grabbed the man’s sleeve, and yanked him around. “You’re lying, old man. You’re lying. Where did that slut go?” Jack’s tone boiled with threat.

  The stableman cringed. He dropped the rake and threw his hands in front of his face. “I don’t know where people go. It ain’t none of my business no how, no, it ain’t. I got work to do.”

  Again he turned to the stall, but Norton had limped
in behind and cut him off. He grabbed the old man’s shirt and shook hard. “Listen, you old coot. You tell me where they went or I’ll break your scrawny neck.”

  The stable hand cowered, whimpering like a beaten dog. “Don’t hurt me, mister. Don’t hurt me. I don’t know nothing, no, I don’t.”

  Norton backhanded him. “Where’d they go?”

  The old man groaned.

  Norton swatted him, a hard fist to the face. “Tell me or I’ll kill you. Where?”

  The stable hand slumped to the ground. Norton kicked him with his good leg. The old man groaned.

  “Enough!” Bill yelled.

  Norton kicked again.

  Bill leveled the rifle. Fire and smoke erupted from the muzzle. Blood splattered from Norton’s temple. Bone, brains, and hair blew from the far side of his head. The powerful Hawken blew Norton clean off his feet. He was dead before he hit ground

  “Now you done it! Everybody in town will be here soon. We got to get out of here pronto,” Jack screamed, the panic clear in his voice.

  “Drunk fool asked for it.”

  “We’ll be in for a hanging or worse. Folks don’t get too picky about the right or the wrong of things. If that old man is dead, so are we.” Jack put his hand to his neck and rubbed.

  “Shut up and get saddled.” Bill led his horse from a stall.

  Shouts came from the street. People were coming. They needed to ride, and ride fast to escape the noose.

  Tom dropped the heavy burlap bag beside the mule. “This sure is a lot of stuff, Pa. Do we really need it all just to dig for gold?”

  “There ain’t no telling where we’re going to be when we find gold. We got to be ready for whatever comes our way. Why don’t you ride back to that general store and see if your brothers got our supplies yet. I’ll be down as soon as I load the mule.”

  “Sure, Pa.” He climbed on Sadie and rode down the street, pulling his hat down low to block the early morning sun from his eyes. The town had been quiet when he came out of Sam Brannon’s store with Pa, but now he could hear two men yelling. It sounded like it came from a stable just ahead.