“That’s why, at the end of life, some people are radiant with the love of God and others are miserable old grouches. It all depends on the millions of tiny choices we make all day long, every day—golden choices of unselfishness or dirty choices that turn out to be worthless in the end.”
I looked up just as she finished speaking, and we were driving up the road to our house. I guess the conversation was finished for now, because already I could hear the yells of Emily and Becky and Tad running out to meet us.
It was probably just as well we were home. I had plenty to think about for now!
Chapter 24
The Day Finally Comes
It was May when Miss Morgan got here.
Pa said he’d told her all about his past in New York—actually his words were, “everything she needs to know”—and she still wanted to come. He said, “I reckon she more or less knows what she’s gettin’ herself into.” As much as Pa didn’t want the wrong folks to know about New York, he seemed to be trying hard to be honest about himself whenever he could.
There’d been considerable anticipation around town. After all, Pa was well known. With us kids and the gold mine and all, there’d been quite a bit for folks to talk about concerning Pa already. And once word started spreading around about him sending for a mail-order bride, Pa was on everybody’s lips. It was the first time around here that anything like that had happened.
Pa hated it, of course. Occasionally, one of the men would come out of a store or one of the saloons with some comment or a laugh and a wink, like, “Hey, Drum, when’s yore pretty little catalog bride comin’?” or “I’ll tell ya what, Hollister, if she ain’t to yore likin’, send her my way.” Whenever he heard shouts coming his direction, he’d walk on or turn the other way, ignoring them altogether.
Something told me that Pa almost wanted to forget the whole thing. After all, nobody had heard any more of that man Hatch from south of here. Uncle Nick had been behaving himself. And all my worries after going to San Francisco with Mrs. Parrish turned out to be nothing at all. In fact, I was embarrassed to have gotten in such a tizzy about it, thinking Buck Krebbs was going to follow me here just because he happened to see me all alone. After all, he had known where Pa was all the time. Why was seeing me in San Francisco going to make any difference to him?
At the time I was scared that he’d tried to get me when I was by myself, that seeing me might put the idea into his head to try it again. But now I felt foolish for making all the fuss—especially since that was what started Pa out thinking he needed to get a new wife.
But Mrs. Parrish told me there weren’t any accidents that happened to God’s people. And since I was one of them, then all that was part of “God’s story for my life,” as she called it, including the new chapter that was about to begin, the coming of Miss Kathryn Morgan.
I couldn’t help wondering if Pa wished he’d never written those letters. But he’d already sent the money back East, and maybe he didn’t want the men around town to think he was backing down. Before long it was too late, anyway. Miss Morgan was probably already on her way.
We knew about when she’d be coming, but then came the letter saying she’d be coming into Sacramento on the steamer arriving from San Francisco on May 11th, at 2:45 in the afternoon.
Maybe only Pa and I were secretly harboring our reservations about the whole notion of a new woman about the place. Everyone else seemed excited.
It was such an “event” that three or four hours after the letter arrived, the whole town knew Pa’d be heading down to Sacramento the next day to fetch his new bride-to-be. The more hoopla there was about it, the more reserved Pa got. He seemed mighty anxious inside. Maybe he was thinking more about Ma than Miss Morgan. Sometimes he’d sit up late at night, just sitting beside the fire, holding the one picture of Ma we had, or holding her Bible, although I don’t think I ever saw him reading in it. He’d get up or sigh, almost as if he was saying to himself, Well, sometimes a man’s just gotta do somethin’ just ’cause he thinks it’s the right thing to do, even if he ain’t too keen about it.
At the same time, even though he wasn’t saying much these days, part of Pa couldn’t help being just a little bit excited too. I think he was hoping that maybe he’d like Miss Morgan a lot.
The whole town would likely have gone to Sacramento with Pa if he’d let them! Pa had become kind of a local hero, and everybody was watching his every move and wanting to be part of it. Alkali Jones, Uncle Nick, others of Pa’s friends—they all would have gone.
But Pa said no—it was just gonna be him and the kids.
Zack and Little Wolf had been getting to be good friends, mostly riding horses together a lot up in the hills around Miracle.
Little Wolf’s father was raising horses now, and he didn’t seem to mind his son being around a white boy. They’d go up in the hills, high up toward the Sierras, and they’d race and even help break some of the horses. So when we found out about the trip to Sacramento, Zack begged Pa to let Little Wolf come along. Pa said he could. The two boys would ride their horses.
Pa was planning to take our wagon, even though it was just an old buckboard, and clunking along the bumpy roads wasn’t any too comfortable. But the afternoon before we were to leave, we heard the hoofs and rattling and clatter of someone coming up the road.
Pa was the first one to the door. All I heard him say was, “What in tarnation . . . ?” The end of his sentence finished up with his mouth hanging open.
Outside sat a new-looking, all-black brougham carriage, covered on top, with a nice little door and a window into the inside compartment. Two of the Parrish Mine and Freight Company’s finest looking horses snorted and danced in place in front of it. Mrs. Parrish was just that moment jumping down onto the ground.
Pa walked out with a bewildered expression on his face, followed by the rest of us.
“I hope you won’t take offense, Mr. Hollister,” Mrs. Parrish said with a smile, shaking Pa’s hand. “I well remember when you told me some time ago that I should not interfere with your family’s affairs.”
While she spoke her face was smiling, like she knew Pa wasn’t going to fuss like he used to, and showing that she wasn’t afraid to kid him just a little.
“ . . . but I must say, that old rickety wagon of yours is not the proper coach for a man of your, shall we say, your standing in the community, to pick up his future bride in. No, no, Mr. Hollister, I said to myself that you simply must have something finer on this occasion.”
She paused, to give more emphasis to her next words.
“So, as you can see—I have solved that little problem for you.”
She held out the reins in one gloved hand.
“But, I—I don’t reckon I understand what—”
“Don’t worry,” she laughed. “It won’t cost you a dime. Nor me, either! I have a friend up in French Corral, a wealthy banker who has done a good deal of business with me. I knew he had this brougham and rarely used it. So I rode up yesterday and borrowed it for you. I’ve taken full responsibility. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“You caught me unsuspecting, Mrs. Parrish,” said Pa at last, forcing a smile. “But there just ain’t no way I can—”
“Just take the reins and don’t say a word, Mr. Hollister.” Now her voice was more serious. She was still smiling, but not at all making light of the situation. At that moment I saw how much Mrs. Parrish had come to care about Pa. At first it had been just for us kids that she’d done things and been nice. But this—I could tell as she handed him the reins and looked steadily at him—she’d done just for Pa.
Pa seemed really touched. “Ma’am,” he said, “I am obliged to you! That’s just a mighty thoughtful thing to have done.”
“Not another word about it,” replied Mrs. Parrish. “Just bring your Miss Morgan back here safe and sound. Now,” she went on, turning back to the carriage, “it’s made to seat four inside. With the children, you might squeeze in five. But if
not, someone can sit next to you up on the driver’s seat. And there’s a rack on top for her luggage. Take some rope with you to tie it down.”
Pa walked all the way around it, taking in every line and curve, examining the wheels, while Mrs. Parrish undid her horse from the harnesses.
“So I’ll just be back off to town,” she said, throwing the saddle she’d brought over the horse’s back and cinching up the straps. “And I’ll see all you back here in four or five days!”
She went around to each of us with a hug and a personal word. She held me an extra second or two, then just looked deeply into my eyes without saying anything. I knew what that look was meant to say.
Early the next morning, Pa climbed into the driver’s seat, and Emily and Becky and Tad and I clambered up into the fancy black carriage. With Zack and Little Wolf excitedly leading the way on their two horses, we were off on our two-day trip to Sacramento.
Chapter 25
The Arrival of Miss Kathryn Morgan
On the afternoon of May 11, we stood alongside the Sacramento River at the same landing I already felt I knew, watching the big white steamer glide slowly up to the wooden dock.
We scanned the deck and the people on it as the boat slid up, looking in vain for a white hat. But none was to be seen.
When the boat finally came to a stop, two men jumped down and tied the huge ropes to two pylons. A third man hauled out a short wooden ramp, banged it down onto the dock while keeping one end hooked to the boat, and the passengers started filing down the incline and off the boat.
I don’t reckon anyone would have had much trouble picking us out! There we stood, five kids and an Indian, crowded around a big, rugged-looking man, with his hat in his hand, and a look of apprehension on his face.
“Will she be nice, Pa?” asked Tad’s innocent voice.
“’Course she’ll be nice. Now just be quiet and help me look,” came back Pa’s answer—a little too gruff, but I guess both Pa and Tad were nervous.
It didn’t take much more looking. The second she came into view we all spotted her. It was the only floppy white hat and red flower in the whole place! She was shorter than most of the other women, which was why we hadn’t seen her on deck.
I don’t know quite what I expected to happen. There we were, and there she was, all of us frozen in time looking at each other. I suppose it wasn’t any longer than a second, but those kinds of moments have a way of stretching out. You can get inside them and think about all kinds of different things, and then come back again, and still only a tiny fraction of time has gone by. This was one of those times. Everything stood still on the outside, while my mind was racing on the inside. And then when I woke up to the real-life present, we were still just standing there staring as she marched toward us, smiling, with her hand stretched out.
“Mr. Hollister!” she said bright and cheerily, “I’m Kathryn Morgan!”
“Er—howdy, ma’am,” Pa stammered as he shook her hand, “Drummond Hollister, at your service, ma’am. These here’s the kids.”
“Let me try to guess,” said Miss Morgan before Pa could get around to introducing us. “You’re Corrie,” she said turning and smiling at me.
I nodded.
“It’s easy to see you’re the oldest,” she said. “And something else your Pa told me is easy to tell too—you’re nearly a grown-up young woman—and a very pretty one.”
“Thank you,” I said, blushing. “Welcome to California.”
“Oh, thank you!” She looked around and took in a deep breath. “So this is the land of fortunes,” she said. “Funny, I don’t smell the gold in the air. To hear folks back East talk, you’d think the gold was just lying around on the ground. Is there really gold here, Mr. Hollister?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” said Pa. “You’ll see it soon enough, I reckon.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you a little present, Corrie,” she said, looking down into her handbag and reaching around with her hand. “I brought you all something—they’re not much. I didn’t have extra room, but I thought it might be nice to bring you all a little piece of Virginia. So, Corrie, I brought you a seashell from the Atlantic Ocean.”
She handed me a beautiful little reddish-white shell that had a twisted circular pattern on it. Once a sea animal, probably something like a snail, had lived inside it, she said. “If you hold the open end to your ear on a quiet day,” she said, “they say you can still hear the sea where the shell came from.”
She stooped down next to me and greeted Tad. “Do you know how I know that you’re Tad?” she said.
“’Cause I’m the littlest?” asked Tad, staring with his big eyes into Miss Morgan’s smiling face.
“That’s right! And do you know what we say back in Virginia about little things?”
Tad shook his head.
“We say that the best things come in the smallest packages! Here, Tad, look what I have for you.” Again she reached into her bag, this time pulling out a shiny green rock. “This is a Virginia rock, Tad, like your sister’s shell. Every time you look at it, you can remember how big this country of ours is.”
She turned to Becky, standing next to Emily. “Let me see, you two girls—” She glanced back and forth between Becky and Emily. “You are not that far apart in age, but I would say you—” She looked at Becky again. “You look to be about eleven, am I right?”
“In three months,” answered Becky.
“So you are Becky!”
“Yes, Miss Morgan, and I drew you a picture!” From behind her back Becky pulled out a folded white piece of paper. “It’s a picture of Pa working in his mine,” said Becky.
“And you drew it for me?” exclaimed Miss Morgan. “Why, Becky, thank you! That makes me feel very special.” Her smile brightened.
“That means that you are Emily,” she said, turning to Emily, who only smiled shyly. “I’m so glad to meet you at last, Emily!”
Before she had a chance to say anything more, she felt a tug on her coat. She turned back toward Becky.
“What about my present?” said Becky.
Miss Morgan laughed. “I hadn’t forgotten you,” she said. Digging into her handbag again she pulled out two little wads that looked like rags. “Inside these wet rags are a little tuft of grass and a start of some Virginia moss, both packed in good black Virginia soil. I’ve tried to keep the roots damp in these rags, and I’m quite sure they will both grow. Here girls,” she said handing them to Emily and Becky. “I want you to plant a little garden, with these and maybe some other things. We’ll water them, and before you know it, you’ll have a little patch of green Virginia right in your own back yard.”
She stood up and looked around to the other side of Pa, noticing for the first time that there was an extra person. Zack saw the quick look of confusion on her face, and said, “This here’s my friend from the school, Little Wolf.”
“Which means you must be Zack,” said Miss Morgan. She shook his hand. “Why, you’re gonna be as big a man as your pa one of these days,” she said, “and a strong one, too! You’ve got a powerful grip for a—let’s see, you’re how old, Zack?”
“Fourteen and a half, ma’am,” he answered.
“Yes, of course. Well, like I said, you seem awfully strong for fourteen.”
She was sure doing her best to make friends with everyone right off!
“Little Wolf?” she said, turning to Zack’s friend. “Is that a nickname?”
“That is my name,” replied Little Wolf. “I am of the Maidu tribe.”
The smile left Miss Morgan’s face. “I see,” she said blankly. Then turning again to Zack, she handed him a small, thin piece of light-colored bark. It had some color and markings on it I couldn’t make out at first.
“It’s a piece of painted bark,” she said, “with an Indian proverb written on it in Cherokee. Before they were driven back to Oklahoma, they used to be one of Virginia and North Carolina’s civilized tribes, not like the Sac and the Fox, who massacred
my parents.”
I thought her eyes gave a quick glance in Little Wolf’s direction, but just as quickly she was looking at Zack again. “The Cherokee’s great chief Sequoia developed his alphabet in 1821, the first Indian tribe to have a full written language of their own. So let this always remind you, Zack, of the difference between peaceful and violent ways.”
A brief silence followed. Pa’d been standing watching everything without saying a word, and still Miss Morgan kept the conversation going.
“And for you, Mr. Hollister,” she said, “I have the best gift of all, a symbol of beginnings, of new life. She reached inside her bag one last time, and pulled out something small and brown that fit easily in the palm of her hand.
“A pine cone, ma’am?” said Pa, taking it from her and looking at it, seeming to wonder what she found so special in an object so common.
“Not just any pine cone, Mr. Hollister. A Virginia pine cone! Oh, I know you have pines in California. But this cone, with the seeds still inside it, has come three thousand miles. And when we plant these seeds and watch the little seedlings grow, they will remind us that it is possible for a tree—and perhaps for men and women as well—to grow in new soils and strange surroundings.”
I think Pa knew what she meant and took the pine cone and put it into one of his coat pockets with a nod of thanks.
“Now along that line, just one more thing,” she said. “I also brought you all some apple seeds for the very same purpose. You’ve heard of Johnny Appleseed, haven’t you? Well, we’ll help him in his work in Miracle Springs! But I’ve got them packed away someplace safe, so we’ll worry about them later.”
“Speaking of your bags, Miss Morgan, ma’am—”
“Please, Mr. Hollister,” she interrupted, “if we are going to be married, don’t you think we ought to get over the formalities? No more calling me ma’am, if you please. Call me by my name—my given name.”
“You want me to call you Kathryn, ma’am?”
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