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

by John Rose Putnam

  “Please, Jim, tell me the boy wasn’t blond and about fifteen years old?”

  “Well, no, ma’am.”

  “Oh, thank God.” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

  “Do you know that boy, ma’am?”

  “No, but I saw him and his family at Sutter’s Fort. He’s too young, just too young.”

  “Well, the boy that was killed was his brother, the middle brother. The oldest one ain’t been seen since. I reckon he’s gone too. The father’s been in the Golden Nugget since it happened. It looks like he’s lost his grip. Yells out for his dead sons and his dead wife like a crazy man and drinks a lot. The killers took a mule with the family’s supplies on it. I figure they killed the boys for them supplies.”

  “Oh, Lord! It’s my fault, all my fault. I should have—”

  “Stop it!” Joshua barked at her. “It’s not your fault. Jack and Bill are killers. You didn’t make them that way.”

  “Oh, that poor boy,” she moaned.

  Jim yanked off his top hat and held the brim with both hands. “Ma’am, I’m sorry I had to tell you that but maybe there’s some good news in it. The killers came into the general store the day you left. Another feller recognized them from your description, Eban, and the one called Bill got shot bad. They probably left the area by now. It looks like you’ll be safe for a while.”

  “Safe?” She looked up at the deputy. “Safe for how long?” She wouldn’t be safe until Jack and Bill were dead.

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  She stood. “And what is the name of the boy who lost his brothers?”

  “It’s Tom, ma’am. Tom Marsh.”

  She turned to the fire. “I’m sorry, Jim. Forgive me. I’m forgetting my manners. Let me get your coffee.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She picked up the three full cups and gave one to each man. “Now, if you men will excuse me, I need some time alone.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.” Jim took a sip from his cup.

  “Maggie, just stay close enough that we can see you.”

  She nodded to Joshua then walked to a pine tree further along the hill. She sat down with her back to the men and wrapped her arms around her knees. Four men were dead, four men she didn’t even know, and Obadiah had been beaten, probably for trying to help her. Then there was the boy, Tom Marsh. Now he was alone in a strange town. All these people hurt or dead because she ran from Jack.

  She pulled the small pistol from her pocket and stared at it. If only she hadn’t taken Jack’s money and run away with Joshua. Then all the pain she had caused would have been avoided. Then nobody would be miserable but her. It was all her fault.

  Tom stopped in the middle of the dusty street and stared at the door to the Golden Nugget. He had to go inside again, just like he had done every night, but it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He squared his jaw and marched to the door.

  Today was Sunday. Maybe there wouldn’t be as many miners inside as last night. He didn’t understand why chasing the cow made them so downright mean. They picked on him for trying to help Pa. Then they made fun of Pa for no reason. He missed Ma so much now. She would know what to do.

  He peered inside. There was only Mr. Alberts and a few miners at the bar. Maybe he would get lucky and they would leave him alone. Memphis sat where he usually did, playing cards alone. Pa was slumped over the table in the same place he always was. Tom walked inside and headed toward Pa.

  “Tom! Tom, could I have a word with you?”

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Memphis. I guess so, but I got to get Pa out of here, you know.”

  “It’ll only take a minute. Why don’t you sit down?” Memphis stacked the cards into a pile then split the stack in two with one hand and shuffled them together. Memphis was a magician with cards. Tom pulled out a chair and sat.

  “You’ve been on your own now for a while. I know it’s been hard on you. Are you getting enough to eat? I mean, are you doing all right?”

  Tom ducked his head down and put his hand over his mouth. “Well, ah, yeah, ah, I guess so.” He couldn’t admit it to Memphis, to anyone really, but he was in terrible shape. The food in the bag was almost gone. Just like Mrs. Wimmer had said, he couldn’t find any work. He didn’t know what he could do.

  “You aren’t sick, are you? You’re looking pale, and maybe you’re a bit thinner. Are you sure you’re getting enough to eat?”

  “Ah, well, ah, yes, sir. I’m not that hungry.” He had lied. Pa was only able eat in the morning, when he was still sort of sober, and Tom gave most of the beans to him. The rest of the day he went without so he could save what he could for Pa. He was always hungry now.

  “That’s real good. I’m glad to hear it.” Still using only one hand, Memphis gave five cards to each of them, one at a time.

  “What’s this, sir?”

  “It’s a poker hand. This is how I make my living.”

  “I knew you made money playing cards, but that’s about it.”

  “Poker’s a game of skill and luck. I know you don’t have the skill, but I thought we might see how your luck is running today.”

  “Well, I guess so, sir.” How his luck was? It seemed like the only luck he had lately was bad luck.

  Memphis picked up his cards and sorted them. “Well, well, look here. I’ve got four deuces. That’s a real good hand.” He laid the cards on the table, evenly spread out.

  “Deuces, sir?”

  “That’s four twos, Tom.”

  “Twos are good, sir?”

  “Four of anything is good, Tom. So what do you have?”

  “Ah, well, I don’t know, sir. Nothing, I guess.” He put his cards on the table, trying his best to imitate the way Memphis had done his.

  “Nothing! Why look at this.” Memphis picked up the cards and laid them down one at a time in order. “You’ve got the ace, king, queen, jack and ten of hearts. That’s a royal flush! That’s the best poker hand a man can have.”

  “It is?” He managed a smile.

  “Yes, it is. Lady Luck is riding on your shoulder today.”

  “Lady Luck, sir?”

  “Luck is a lady, Tom. Luck is always a lady.” Memphis gave a little wave towards the bar, like folks who chased the cow did when they wanted more. Tom was kind of surprised. Memphis never seemed like he’d been chasing the cow much.

  “Well, I guess, sir. If you say so.” Tom didn’t understand what was important about luck, or why it was a lady, but Memphis seemed real sure of it. He took a glance to Pa’s table. Pa’s head rolled around his shoulders and his hands twitched, but he was quiet.

  “Ah, Alberts. Tom here drew a royal flush.” Memphis flashed Tom’s cards to the barkeep in the checkered vest as he came to the table. “Luck is riding with him today. Don’t you agree?”

  Alberts rolled his eyes around and frowned. “Yeah, whatever you say, Memphis.”

  The barkeep was the man who fed Pa the whiskey. Tom didn’t like him much.

  “I understand you got something to say to this lucky young man here. You go ahead and speak for yourself, Alberts.”

  “Yeah, well, I could use some help keeping the place tidied up. Just be a couple of hours in the morning. Since you’re in here every morning anyway, I wondered if maybe you could handle it for me? Pay you, ah, pay you a half dollar a day.”

  “Ahem.” Memphis coughed. It sounded like a funny kind of cough.

  “Aaah, all right! Pay you a dollar a day, but that’s all I’ll go.” Alberts looked straight at Memphis, his face as sour as an unripe lemon.

  “Well, well! How about it? A dollar a day is pretty good. Are you going to take the job?” Memphis grinned like a fox in the henhouse.

  Tom didn’t much like the idea of working in the saloon, but he sure needed the money, and it would keep him near Pa. He had to take the job. “Yeah, Mr. Alberts, I’ll do it. Thank you, sir.” He had to force the words out. He didn’t feel good about working in a saloon at all.

&nbs
p; Alberts glared at Memphis. “All right then. You can start in the morning.” Then he turned back to his bar.

  Tom stood. “I got to get Pa.” He started for Pa’s table then turned back. “Thanks, Mr. Memphis.”

  “You’re most welcome, Tom.” Memphis gave him a big smile and a wink.

  He walked across to Pa and grabbed him by the arm. “Ma wants you to come home right now, Pa.” He hated that he had to lie about Ma, but it was the only thing that worked. Pa mumbled something he couldn’t understand. “Ma’s waiting, Pa.” He yanked Pa to his feet and dragged him from the bar.

  17 Maggie’s Cabin

  Joshua looked up as Maggie sloshed out of the stream and flopped onto the mat of pine needles above the creek. He knew she was exhausted. The euphoria of their discovery of gold had long since passed. In the months since the first find the daily grind involved had become the backbreaking chore that in reality it had always been.

  He followed her to the shade and lay beside her in the twilight, gathering what last reserves of strength he could muster to return to the camp for a well-deserved meal and some sleep. Tomorrow he would rise with the sun and start his labors anew.

  She turned to him. She had that look again. There was something she wanted to say. “Joshua, summer is over. Eban says the rain will start soon. This valley is already flooded with miners. There are all those men working just past our camp in the ravine lined with cedar trees. The Mexican’s are mining the ravine farther east, and the men from Oregon are in the one behind Daylors’s campsite. They are all building places to live out the winter in. We need a cabin too, and we need to start building it soon.”

  “Maggie, we’ve talked about this so much. I thought we decided to go to San Francisco. We have plenty of money now. We could start a business and maybe a family, if you want. The town is growing every day. I’m sure we would be happy there.”

  She shook her head. “No! Not San Francisco! I know how much you love this valley. I feel the same way. I want a house right above this ravine, one that looks out to the west. Maybe we could find a stove somewhere.” Her eyes sparkled. “I can cook a lot better with a stove than on that campfire.”

  He turned his head from her. She was right. He did love this valley and they did need a place to live out the winter, but was here really the right place for them? “Maggie, what about Jack? He wouldn’t know we were in San Francisco.”

  “Jack! No one has heard from him all summer. Maybe he’s dead. We can’t run from Jack our whole lives. Let him come. Let’s get it over with. He would find us in San Francisco anyway, so why not stay here?”

  The screams of the dying men at San Pasqual flashed in his mind. He shook his head to clear the memories. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Maybe we could take a ship back east. We could live in New York City. Would you like that?”

  “No, no, no!” Now she was angry. He winced. “Not New York City. I want to live here. I thought I wanted to live with you until you turned into a . . . oh, I don’t know. Damn you, Joshua Stone.” She hopped up and started to the camp, then suddenly she turned back. “I’m going to stay, Joshua. I’ll build a cabin myself if I have to. I want to be with you, but if you have to leave, I’ll understand.” Without waiting for his reply, she walked off. From the hill above, Clara brayed pitifully and loped after her.

  Joshua sighed. Ever since Jim Price had brought the news of that farmer’s son whose body washed ashore at Coloma, she had been a different woman. It was clear she blamed herself for the boy’s death. No amount of logic would convince her that she was not responsible for the actions of Smiling Jack or Cherokee Bill. She was right about San Francisco too. Jack could find them there as easily as he could find them here. They would be no better off.

  New York City would be ideal, but getting there might be very difficult. Most of the ships that sailed into San Francisco were deserted by their crews and left abandoned in the harbor in the mad rush to the goldfields. It seemed like most of the sailors had wound up here in this valley. This sheltered, secluded valley, so lonely and quiet when they arrived, had, in the space of a summer, become a focus of activity. Hundreds, if not thousands, of miners had poured in as the word had gotten out of the lucrative gold finds along the North Fork of Weber Creek.

  Down the stream near Daylor’s camp someone was building a store, and another man was starting a saloon. Already there were two other saloons operating from round tents, which reminded him of Jack’s tent at Sutter’s Creek and did nothing to help Maggie’s sour disposition he was sure. He got up and walked over to Eban, who was picking up from the day’s labor.

  Eban gave him one of those looks men give friends at times like this. “I reckon you got yourself a passel of woman trouble. What do you figure to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand her. She wants a house, and she wants it right there on that hill. I tried to talk her into going to San Francisco, but she won’t hear of it. She says we can’t run from Jack all our life. She wants to stay right here.”

  “Well, all women want a house, and, Lord knows, she’s waited long enough for one. Put up with an awful lot too. Jack got under her skin too much, but maybe she’s right. You said yourself that you was tired of running, and it might be best to fight it out.”

  “If it were just me, I would agree, but I’m afraid that she might get hurt. I don’t think I could take that. I’ve even thought of going after him myself, but he seems to have vanished. No one has seen him or Bill in months, and I wouldn’t want to leave Maggie alone anyway. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Seems to me that there’s more eating at you than just Jack. You been off your feed for a while now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so, Eban. When we first left Sutter’s Creek, I thought this would all be over soon. I had no idea it would be such an ordeal. Frankly, I’ve had it. My nerves are as much on edge as hers. I never told you the real reason I left the army, did I? Sure, I wanted to see the rest of California, and I believed in the promise it offered, but on the field at San Pasqual, when our carbines failed to fire and all of those good men died because of it, I think maybe I died a little bit too.”

  Joshua kicked a stone into the stream then shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know the order to reload those weapons after all the rain we had should have come from the command. I know that it wasn’t my job to give that order, but I knew the powder could have gotten wet. When the order wasn’t given, I still had a responsibility to the men in my unit. I should have made sure that they were ready to fight, and I didn’t do that. I have to shoulder my responsibility for the deaths of those good soldiers. I didn’t do all I could for them.”

  He turned away from Eban, pulled off the army hat, and wiped his hair with his palm. “I loved the military. I loved the adventure. I even loved the drills, but on the field at San Pasqual, when I was face to face with that lancer with all the blood and death around, I couldn’t kill him. I think I shot wide on purpose. There had been enough death that day, too much death. It all seemed so senseless.”

  “And you reckon you did the same thing when you went up against Norton.”

  “Yeah. He was trying his best to kill me, and he would’ve done it too. I had every right to take his life, but, just like the lancer, I couldn’t do it. What if Smiling Jack shows up and I can’t do what needs to be done? What will happen to Maggie? If I were to live, could I live with the knowledge that I couldn’t protect her? I don’t think I could.”

  “You got a powerful lot a stuff you’re carrying around there. You was as brave as anyone when we had at them lancers, and at Mule Hill you was a real hero, doing all you done with your leg broke like it was. Nobody who was there is going to call you yellow.”

  “It’s not other men that I’m afraid of, Eban. I’m afraid of myself.”

  “I’ll stand up beside you any day, against anybody. When the fat hits the fire, you’ll come through. I know you will.”

  “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”

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sp; “You can bet your best horse on that one. But don’t it look like this valley’s starting to grow like Coloma done? It won’t be long before there’s a real town along the creek. Maybe it ain’t such a bad place to put down roots in, maybe start a family. It wouldn’t bother me to stay here for a piece. I been thinking about starting a freighting business, driving supplies in from Coloma, down at Daylor’s farm, or all the way from Sacramento City. The way this valley’s growing, people are going to need a lot of stuff. Somebody’s got to haul it in. Be a lot a room in it for a smart, strapping young army officer like you. What do you think? You go halves with me?”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’m sure tired of digging, and we’ve made a lot of money here. It sounds like a good idea. Let’s talk to Maggie. Maybe this will smooth the feathers I ruffled. Here, let me carry some of that gear.”

  “Best offer I had all day.”

  The dimly lit barroom was almost empty. Cigar smoke mixed with the soot from the oil lamps hung like a haze in the center of the room. Tom stepped in carefully, still afraid of the rowdy and unpredictable behavior of the customers. Too often he felt lucky to escape unharmed from one drunken miner or another.

  Alberts noticed him and nodded to the corner table, but the help was unnecessary. He knew where to go. He walked over and gave the torso spread across it a rough shake.

  “Pa, wake up. It’s time to go.” He got no response, so gave another shake, harder this time. “Wake up, Pa. It’s Tom. Come on, Pa, wake up.”

  Alberts watched him from behind the bar. “Maybe it’s best you leave him here again tonight. He can’t make it home now anyway. He’ll be better in the morning. You go on back to your camp.”

  “Yeah, he’ll be better in the morning. He’ll wake up and start drinking again, just like he does every day now. You’re right, Mr. Alberts. I’ll be seeing you.” He walked to the door and out into the night. His brother was dead, another brother was missing and probably dead, and his father was always drunk now and may as well be dead. He was alone in a strange land, hungry and scared, but he had to keep trying.