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

by John Rose Putnam

  “Don’t mind if I do. Mighty kind of you, yes, sir.” Flapjack sat and pushed the glass as close to the bottle as he could.

  Bill filled it. “Been around here awhile, old timer?”

  Flapjack finished the whiskey in one quick swallow. He put the glass down, close to the bottle again. “One of the first ones in this valley, yes, sir.”

  Bill reached out with the bottle, then set it down. “You know the woman selling pies?”

  “Been up to her cabin dozens of times for supper. Oh yeah.” Flapjack’s eyes were locked on the whiskey.

  Bill toyed with the bottle, teasing the old man. “The two men she lives with, they play cards?”

  “The young one, he stays home mostly. Can’t say I blame him. But Snyder, he’s right here in the El Dorado every Saturday night, playing cards with them shop keepers. Ain’t nothing but robbers, them shopkeepers are. The prices they charge . . .”

  Bill put a gold nugget on the table. The old man’s eyes found it instantly. “Going to need help come Saturday. Another rock like this, and a bottle for you. Won’t take long. Interested?”

  Flapjack stared at the gold. “Like that?”

  “Bigger.”

  “Yeah, I’ll help you, mister.” His eyes didn’t leave the gold.

  “Good. Meet me sundown Saturday at the Round Tent Saloon.”

  “Sundown Saturday. I’ll be there.”

  Bill stood. “Till Saturday.” He left the bottle and the gold and walked from the El Dorado.

  He rode to the stables and watched as the crowd across the road gathered around Maggie. How different she looked from the sick, trail-worn woman he had found alongside the Truckee River two years ago. Her red hair glistened in the sunlight. The calico dress outlined the curves of her figure that had captured his spirit.

  It would soon be over. Jack, the man she lived with, even the old man and the boy could be dead, and she would be with him again, where she always belonged.

  He tore his eyes from her and went inside the stable, quickly passed the stalls, and walked through the rear doors to the small corral in back. The yard was sheltered from prying eyes, perfect for what he planned. Several bales of hay were piled against the wall near the double doors. He could see the last details now. He was ready. He strode back to his horse.

  20 Cherokee Bill’s Plan

  Tom stood and grabbed his plate and cup. “Here, Maggie, I’ll help you with the dishes.”

  “Tom, no. Thank you, but you’ve done enough today. You were out driving mules at sunrise, then you fed the animals, helped me clean up from the pie sale, and after that you peeled and cut up all the vegetables for the stew.”

  “But I like helping you.” Tom’s head went down, an aw-shucks look on his face.

  “Oh, Tom.” She hugged him close. “I love how you’re always so willing to help. Really I do. You’re a treasure. You do so much I can’t thank you enough, but right now I want to get this stew started. I’ll take care of the dishes later.”

  He looked up at her and smiled. “Sure, Maggie.” He liked it when she hugged him. He liked it a lot.

  Eban stood and tossed his napkin onto his plate. “Tom, my boy, I think the lady is telling us men that she wants her kitchen to herself. And since I have some eager shopkeepers waiting to give me their hard-earned money down at the El Dorado, I’ll say good night. It was a wonderful supper, Maggie, as usual.” He gave her a quick hug then walked to the front door.

  “Good night, Eban. Don’t stay too late, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It shouldn’t take long. My friends love to lose. Tom, will you lock up after me?”

  “Sure, Eban.”

  Joshua touched his arm as he passed. “Tom, if you want, I can help you with your arithmetic in a few minutes. I just have a few things to do first.”

  “Sure, but the next section is on fractions. They’re kind of scary.”

  Maggie grinned at him. “I think you’ve got a good start on fractions. After all you had a quarter of the pie for dessert.”

  Joshua chuckled. “You see. Fractions aren’t hard. If you can eat them, I know you can learn them. Grab your book and start where we left off.”

  “Sure, Joshua.” He went to the main room. Eban pulled on a sheepskin coat from the row of wooden pegs that ran from the front door to the kitchen. He pulled the heavy door bolt back and turned.

  “I never had much book learning, Tom, just enough to read and write a little. You got a strong mind. You get what you can. It’ll do you no harm.”

  “I will, Eban. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Tom snapped the bolt in place then went to the shelves under the stairs where Joshua kept the small collection of books he had brought from Sacramento City. Books were hard to get in California, and they cost a lot. The only one they had back on the farm was a Bible. He had a feeling Joshua had gotten some of them just for him. It was nice that someone cared about him like that.

  He pulled the old, worn copy of Thomas Dilworth’s The Schoolmaster’s Assistant from its place beside the almost new McGuffey’s Reader. High up in the center of the shelves was the dented gold pan with the pickaxe head sitting in front, the hickory handle broken off. Eban said it was from another of Clara’s kicking fits. Clara didn’t like Eban much either.

  Spread around the other shelves were rocks Maggie had saved from the time they spent mining the ravine. He guessed she saved them because they were pretty, and she was right. They came in all sizes, shapes, and colors—red, blue, yellow, and green—with others that were real sparkly. Joshua said a few of them were worth something, but none were worth what the gold they found there was.

  He settled crosswise in one of the stuffed chairs, his legs dangling over an armrest, and opened the book to section two, fractions, and started to read. Joshua came in, lit the lamp by the desk, and settled in on his paperwork.

  Maggie sang from the kitchen, and the smell of beef browning on the stove wafted in. One reason he liked her so much was because she was always happy. Eban said she only got happy when he came here. That made him feel good, but he couldn’t imagine her any other way.

  He dug into Dilworth and his explanation of fractions. It was hard to understand. This guy Dilworth just didn’t seem to write in a way that folks like him could get without a lot of thinking. He used big, funny words and said things in a way nobody Tom knew ever did. Still he put his best foot forward and soon began to make progress.

  After rereading the first few pages and working some of the problems out on his slate board, he thought he got the idea about fractions. It seemed like just a way of figuring out how to divide things up. Dishes clinked in the kitchen. Maggie was washing up now. She must have the stew in the pot. Joshua still worked at the desk. A knock came at the door just as he put the book down.

  “I’ll get it.” He hopped up. “Who’s there?”

  “That you, Tom? It’s Flapjack.”

  “Supper’s over, Flapjack. What do you want?” Tom shook his head. Flapjack was a moocher.

  “Oh, no, Tom. I got a message from Snyder. He says it’s important. Open up will you?”

  Tom looked at Joshua. He nodded, so Tom threw the bolt and opened the door. “Yeah, what’s the message?”

  “Good to see you—”

  “What is it you got to say, Flapjack?” Tom still figured the miner was here to cadge a meal.

  “I’ll get to it, boy. Snyder’s down at the stable, says one of the mules took bad sick. Needs you and Stone to come down and help him. Says you’re to come right now.”

  “Yeah, I’ll tell Joshua. See you, Flapjack.” Tom slammed the door in the miner’s face and turned towards Joshua.

  Maggie stood in the kitchen door, wringing her hands in a towel. “Joshua, I don’t want Tom going down there tonight. He needs to keep up his studies.” Maggie didn’t look happy. Tom wondered if something was more serious than a sick mule.

  “No, I agree. I’ll go see what Eban wants. You both stay
here.” Joshua walked to the door. He took the pistol from a peg and strapped it on, then he put on his coat and the army hat.

  Tom didn’t know why, but the pistol seemed real important now. Maybe it was that edgy, uneasy feeling building inside him. “Joshua, I heard folks say that your gun shoots five times without reloading. Is that true?”

  Joshua stopped halfway to the door. “Yes, it does. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. People talk about it a lot, I guess.”

  Joshua’s forehead wrinkled, his lips pursed. “I don’t think there is anything to be concerned about, Tom. Just lock up after me.” He turned toward the kitchen. “I won’t be long, Maggie.” He opened the door and walked out into the night.

  Tom threw the bolt back down. Maggie still stood at the kitchen door. “Is something wrong, Maggie?” Tom saw the concern on her face clear now. It made him even more on edge.

  “I don’t think so, Tom. It’s probably just one of Flapjack’s wild schemes. You go back to your book.”

  Tom flopped back down on the chair and picked up the book. He tried to read, but he couldn’t keep his mind on fractions. Something didn’t feel right. It was all kind of troublesome. He didn’t know why, but he was really uneasy.

  It was crowded, loud, and smoky inside the El Dorado. Eban sat at a table with four shopkeepers. Although they considered this a friendly game, the stakes could be high. A large share of the town’s capital passed from hand to hand each Saturday.

  At the table to Eban’s right was another poker game. To his left a man ran a faro game crowded with bettors. Across the room a shark in a black coat hustled miners with a three-card monte game. To Eban they were all tinhorns, charlatans and cheats here to relieve the spoils of the mines from the pockets of the miners. Tonight many a hardworking miner would lose the fruit of his hard week’s work.

  Eban held a good hand. The betting was heavy. Suddenly the steady drum of noise inside fell. He looked up to see Deputy Jim Price cross the floor toward him. The presence of the law had a numbing effect on those who walked a thin line on the edges of that law. The monte men and faro dealers slowed their games. No one wanted a miner, lubricated by the free flowing whiskey, to question the honesty of his game with a lawman near.

  “Evening, Jim. You here to add your money to the winnings I plan on taking home tonight, or is this a business call?”

  “Eban, we need to talk. Private-like.”

  “Private? Sounds serious, Jim. All right, you fellers deal me out of the next one. Then we’ll talk.” Eban was called. His three kings won. He left the winnings on the table.

  “Let’s step out into the street, Eban. It’s private, remember?”

  “Sure thing, Jim. Now you got me fretful.”

  They pushed their way through the crowd and crossed Main Street where Price’s horse waited. The deputy untied the reins and walked up the street.

  “I’ll get right to it. Been a lot a robbing of miners all round these parts lately. You know that, I’m sure. Ain’t been no reason to suspect that it was your Smiling Jack and that Injun guy, Bill. Nobody’s been killed, and it just seems like what’s normal around all this gold. That is till yesterday, when a couple of miners come across a body of a girl washed up alongside Weber Creek, just down from the Diamond Springs road.”

  “Diamond Springs road, you say?” Eban’s face pinched. “My new man, Tom, was just over there today. Took a load of supplies to a wagon train come down the new emigrant trail.”

  “That’s part of why I come, Eban, but there’s more. The girl was from one of them wagon trains. Been dead a day or two at least. You better brace yourself.”

  “All right, Jim. Just lay it on me.”

  “She had her throat cut, like them fellers over at Coloma. Looks like they had their way with her first. Eban, that girl had red hair and green eyes.”

  “That’s real bad news. Ain’t nobody seen a sign of them two anywhere?”

  “No, ain’t heard nothing. Miners come and go so much, it would be easy for them two to blend back in after all this time. Ain’t that many people know who they are and what they look like anymore.”

  “Reckon you’re right. What do you aim to do?”

  “I aim to find them. I’m going to stay here and watch over the woman for a while. If it is Jack and Bill, I reckon they’re here for her. That’s why I come by to talk with you.”

  “I’m obliged, but it ain’t real good news.”

  “Naw, it ain’t. Just hope for the best. Sheriff Rodgers had to ride back to Coloma. Seems there’s trouble all over the mining country every Saturday these days. If anything comes up, I’ll send after him.”

  “That’s good, Jim. Thanks. Why don’t you put your horse in my stable and come up to the cabin? I’ll run on ahead, just to make sure everything’s all right.”

  While Jim took his horse to the stable, Eban hurried to the cabin. The news was far more unsettling than he had let on. Could it be that Jack and Bill were here somewhere waiting to attack? Did they mistake the girl for Maggie? It could be an unfortunate coincidence, but he couldn’t take that chance.

  He also fretted about Tom. The boy didn’t know the connection between Maggie and the killers of his brothers. How would Tom take it, even if everything came out for the best and this was a lot to do about nothing? Was now the time to tell him?

  Jim pulled open the stable door. It was dark inside. He groped for a lamp. There should be one close by. He found the peg, but no lamp hung from it. He heard a noise, something scraping along the dirt floor. It could be from an animal. “Anybody here?” He got no answer. Everything seemed normal, but he was uneasy.

  Fumbling in his pocket, he found a match, struck it, then walked inside. The scraping stopped and a soft rustling began, a swishing sound like hay being moved around. He could see a lamp on a post to the left. The match burned his fingers, so he flicked it out and reached out for the post.

  Just as he found it, the swishing stopped. He opened the lamp to get at the wick and pulled out another match. Then he noticed the light, a thin bar of starlight creeping through an open back door. It hadn’t been there before. Was it the wind or had someone been in the barn? He lit the lamp and cautiously led his horse to an empty stall near the rear.

  “Wait.” Bill spoke in hushed tones. “It’s the old man.” A figure crossed the log bridge in the moonlight.

  Jack was mad. “Snyder? Why’s he going back to the cabin? Your big plan’s coming apart. And who was it that came into the stable? I didn’t have time to kill the—”

  “Quiet! He’s a dead man. Just take more time to die. Now you can kill Snyder.”

  “Yeah, yeah, now I can kill Snyder.”

  “Ride careful. Stay in the shadows.” Bill rode out from beside the stable, heading for the cabin on the hill, Jack on his heels.

  The glow of lamplight shone through the windows as he neared the cabin. It was a good sign. The warm smell of beef stew filled the air. Maggie was getting ready for tomorrow. Everything seemed just as it was when he left. He relaxed and knocked on the door. “Hello, it’s Eban.”

  The door opened, and Tom, his broad grin brighter than the lamplight, greeted him. “How are you, Eban? I thought you was looking after the mule.”

  Eban had never been so glad to see anyone.

  “Thought you were looking, Tom. Not thought you was.” Maggie came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishrag. “Good evening, Eban. I thought you were down at the stables too. What brings you home so early? Can I get you a cup of coffee or maybe something else?”

  “Evening Maggie, Tom.” He looked around for Joshua. It wasn’t like him to leave Maggie alone at night. “Where’s Josh?”

  “He left a few minutes ago. He went down to the stable. Flapjack came by and said you wanted him there. Didn’t you send Flapjack up here?” She twisted her hands around the dishrag.

  Eban’s mind raced. He forced a smile. “One of the mules, eh? That’s a new one for Flapjack. Reckon I co
uld use a cup of coffee.” As Maggie went to fix coffee, Eban made a quick check of the front room. The shotgun was still by the door and loaded. The windows were closed and locked. The latch on the front door was in place.

  Eban’s insides tumbled. Something was very wrong. Joshua should be here. The story about the mule was a downright lie. He had to stay with Maggie until Joshua came back.

  Tom sat crosswise in a chair near the roll top desk, his legs draped over the armrest, an open book facedown across his lap. “Eban, is something wrong? You look a little out of sorts.”

  “Well, I ain’t sure there’s anything out of the regular. I just want to be careful, that’s all. You doing your studying?”

  “Joshua was going to help me with my arithmetic before he left. He’s helping me learn my fractions, remember?” He flipped the book up and showed Eban the title.

  “That’s fine. I’m sure you’ll do right good at it.”

  “It’s pretty hard.” Tom grimaced, his forehead furrowed. “Eban, I got this funny feeling something ain’t right. I ain’t had a feeling like this since my brothers was killed. Are you sure there ain’t something you ain’t telling me about?”

  The boy was serious. Eban made up his mind. He sat on the footstool and put his hand on Tom’s knee.

  “You’re right, Son. I got one of them funny feelings too. Can’t say why exactly. You’re a man now. Can I trust you to keep this just between the two of us?”

  “Yes, sir. I won’t tell nobody.”

  “That’s fine. It’s probably nothing, but there’s some bad men about what been looking to hurt Maggie. I just aim to make sure they don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Why would anybody want to hurt Maggie? She’s the best lady I ever knew.”

  “I ain’t got the answer to that, except that there’s a passel a bad folks in this world. What us men got to do is make sure that the women are protected. Think you can help me with that?”

  “You bet, Eban. I won’t let nobody hurt Maggie.”