“The smoke you see is Lathrop. We’ll be there in about three hours. If you’re lucky, my friend will not have left yet.”
Francis Weston was intrigued by his boy-companion who was silent and mysterious, a contradiction of himself. Santiago had offered himself totally the previous evening. He had been loving and sensitive, and knowledgeable of the ways of love. Each time Francis looked at the boy he saw a pensive and sometimes-sad expression with pain and fear in the eyes that showed through when the boy was not aware he was being watched. Francis wanted to ask the questions he had come close to asking, that morning. Santiago’s evasions seemed to point at something the boy was trying to hide and Francis was not sure he wanted to know what that was. He did not believe Santiago planned to join his father in San Francis as he had said.
When they reached the river’s bank they stopped to eat and rest.
“Santiago, I'm not trying to pry when I ask you questions, but I am curious as to why you are traveling alone. You said your father is to meet you. How could he let a son alone in the wilderness? Tell me..., has your father deserted you?”
In a cold tone Santiago answered in such a way that made it clear there should be no further discussion about the issue beyond what he was about to say.
“Father was killed by three men. A valuable possession was stolen. I knew they would kill me too. I ran away.” He mentioned nothing about the map or nugget or of the gold-dust hidden in his belongings.
“How did you get away?”
“I offered sex to one of them. I got him drunk. When he fell asleep, I left.”
“What about your father?”
Santiago did not want to talk about his father, avoiding the thought of the body being left in the woods for the wild animals. He was sure the men had not buried him. He had tried to find the body when he had returned to the site, but had been unsuccessful. Perhaps it had already been dragged away.
“I think the body was left in the woods. I did not find it when I looked. Perhaps they buried him, but I do not think so.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“One made me do things with him. The others wanted their share of me but the big one kept me to himself. He tore me inside. I bled but it stopped. I have healed, as you saw last night.”
Santiago was getting weary with the questions and he was determined to say little else. Francis tried more probing but the boy remained secretive. Francis decided not to pursue the inquiry, sensing Santiago’s resistance to further questioning.
The general store in Lathrop was operated by Ramón Moraga. Santiago was pleased the man spoke Spanish. He had come from Mexico City and although dialects were different, they understood each other.
Moraga led them to a small room at the rear of the store, where he lived. He prepared a meal that they ate as Moraga and Francis talked while Santiago listened. The two friends exchanged news. Moraga seemed about the age Don Emilio had been. Santiago liked the man because of his easy manner and gentle smile. Even his eyes reminded Santiago of his father’s, for they too were deep-set and the brows were bushy as his father’s had been.
After Francis explained who they had met, and that Santiago hoped to return to San Francisco, Moraga informed them he had planned to leave in two days and that Santiago was welcome to accompany him and could stay with him until them. There were chores needing to be done and Santiago would be fed and paid a few dollars for his efforts.
Santiago did not want to stay longer than necessary, for he feared word would reach the town, of the killings.
“Thank you, Señor. You are kind. But I need to get to San Francisco quickly. If you could draw me a map or give me directions, I will be on my way tomorrow.”
Moraga admired the boy’s independence.
“You have pressing business there?”
“I must get there to notify some people of my father’s death. The priest at the mission will know what to do.”
He thought a small lie would not hurt. He had no intention of seeing the priest or of being returned to distant relatives. He was free and on his own, and that was what he wanted.
“Then perhaps I could leave sooner and accompany you,” Moraga said. “I could use your help! Francis, for the week that I will be gone, would you tend the store?”
“I’ll stay for as long as you wish, Ramón.”
It was decided that they would leave in one day’s time. Santiago preferred traveling alone but the man’s company, his protection, and his knowledge of the route were valuable. There was an added attraction. Santiago found Moraga sensual. Francis had mentioned that Ramón also liked boys. So he knew he would enjoy the journey.
That night Santiago slept the first part of the evening with Francis then he went to Moraga’s bed and found the man fully awake.
“I have not been able to sleep with the thought of you in the other room. I have been praying to God that he would send you to me.”
“Love me?”
Santiago said the words and it was both a plea and command. He clung to Ramón after they had satisfied each other and their clasp did not loosen until Santiago awoke in the early hours to return to Francis’s bed. The men shared the boy several times during the night and Santiago loved being held by Ramón, who increasingly reminded him of his father.
Moraga had a way of lifting one eye-brow whenever he found it necessary to emphasize a point. Santiago had seen the same mannerism in his father and he had been fascinated by it. Each time Ramón looked at Santiago, he found him looking back and they began to smile at each other so that soon, the smiles turned into laughter. Santiago liked being with Ramón because of his sunny disposition and he suspected Francis to be a little jealous.
The buckboard was loaded with empty sacks, barrels, and boxes needed to carry the supplies to be purchased. By noon they had climbed out of the valley and were into the hills. Santiago learned that Ramón and Francis had been born in the same town. The two families had moved away together to escape poverty and to seek more opportunities for their sons. For a short time the two boys had become lovers. They soon decided it was better to be friends, and the relationship reverted to its old form.
Ramón asked many questions about Santiago’s past and of his recent activities. Although Santiago trusted Ramón more than anyone he had met until now, he still did not feel his dark secret safe. He came close to disclosing it several times, but each time his distrust prevailed.
They lapsed into silence. Sitting side by side they were comfortable with the quiet and peace of their own thoughts. Ramón saw Santiago as a boy who had not yet achieved manhood but who was already faced with the responsibilities of it. He could see the troubled lines in the boy’s face. There were moments when Santiago was distracted from his thoughts by the spectacular countryside, and at those times Ramón saw a childlike quality come into the boy that made him seem almost happy. Soon the thoughts returned and the boy’s face would become somber again. Like the sun behind a cloud Santiago’s radiance would be lost.
As the day wore on the sky became overcast and the air turned cold. Santiago moved closer to Ramón and the man held him about the waist. They saw the hills patched with snow where sunlight had not reached. The passing clouds cast large shadows and Santiago watched them speed from horizon to horizon, crossing the countryside like phantoms. Whenever Moraga noticed Santiago not lost in himself he drew him out to speak of his life in Peru. The boy spoke freely when he talked of his parents and it was obvious that he loved and missed them deeply as evidenced by tears. When he returned to his life in California, the boy withdrew.
Mount Diablo guide them. It had been in the northwest when they had begun the journey. By evening they were nearly in line and by the following evening the mountain was behind them. Ramón thought they would be in San Francisco by the following day.
It was true that Ramón found it difficult to keep his eyes off Santiago. The boy was too beautiful to be ignored. But more than the feeling of wanting him physically, Ramón found himself thi
nking of Santiago as a friend. The boy was sensitive to the shift in the relationship and he was pleased with it and grew fonder of the man for liking him for more than his body.
That evening as they sat by the campfire they saw several other fires in the distance and the sound of music and singing voices came on the wind. Ramón heard a melody that he knew and joined the singing. Santiago listened, his head in Ramón’s lap, looking at stars sprinkled like powder across a blackened dome. He remembered having done the same with Fidel. The time seemed so long ago! He felt years separating those times from the present, yet it had only been three months and the memory felt like it belonged to someone else. When the music stopped, Ramón continued singing songs that he remembered from his boyhood. Santiago recognized some and closed his eyes to see his mother singing them. Almost as though Ramón had read his mind the man began to play with the boy’s hair as his mothers had once done when she had sung to him. It was some time before Ramón noticed the tears. He said nothing about them but continued his songs and then began a lullaby that had been his favorite. As he did so he picked up the boy and carried him to the bedroll, covering him with kisses. He argued with himself as to whether he should pursue his passion and decided against it. Moraga wanted Santiago to understand that he cared for him for other reasons than for what he had between his legs.
CHAPTER TEN
Few had realized the dusty and flea-bitten little island of Yerba Buena would become one of the world’s jewels. In 1835 the port was frequented by roving seafarers, Russians, and a few traders, all a rough lot. It was the year that the first dwelling was erected by William Richardson, the port’s first harbor master. Not far from what would become a notorious section of the settlement was its first saloon that served ship-captains, seamen, clerks, and other merchants, traders, and drifters.
The year 1845 found thirty families comprising the village’s permanent population. The town saw much fluctuation in its economy during this period. A Governor’s Decree restricting trade with foreigners sent the whaling industry elsewhere and the port fell into obscurity.
By the time Sutter’s Mill became a focus of world attention, the mania of gold fever had swept across the globe. The town’s section bounded by Clay Street, Grant Avenue, Broadway, and the waterfront had already developed into a nest of crime and corruption. Town fathers targeted this corrupt area for special attention. The true beginning of the city’s birth was January 24, 1848.
When news arrived at the little settlement that gold had been discovered on the American River only a few of the town’s 900 inhabitants remained behind. During the months of June and July of that year, 250,000 dollars in gold dust was taken out of the Sierra foothills. News traveled around the world and by New Year’s Day of 1849 there were an estimated 6,000 miners at the diggings, and San Francisco was an encampment of tents with a population of 2,000 excited, fever-stricken strangers.
Those who were not miners were merchants interested in cashing in on the boom by charging extraordinary prices for the shipment of goods and services. One of these services was the catering to the miner’s leisure time. Dance halls and saloons were everywhere. Gambling houses and opium dens were as readily accessible as any other service. As the population grew the need for law enforcement increased. Vices sought out their common bonds and those who partook chose a common area in which to play. These establishments began to proliferate near and around the waterfront and the area that would later become known as the Barbary Coast, began as a hoodlum’s hangout called Devil’s Acre and Battle Row. These places were blocks of buildings bounded by Kearney, Montgomery, and Broadway Streets. Within these streets thugs roamed with clubs and knives, and no one was safe from attack. It was to this area that Santiago Cali was drawn.
A heavy fog made everything almost indistinguishable. The evening was filled with shadows of movement and muffled sounds as they docked at the foot of Pacific Street, having taken a ferry to cross the bay. Ramón Moraga had used every argument and offered every temptation, and still Santiago refused to consider returning with him to Lathrop. The boy had set his mind firmly. It was also obvious that Santiago was anxious to part company in spite of how much he may have liked Ramón, as soon as they stepped on shore and he saw the lights and heard the dance-hall music. Moraga was able to entice Santiago to stay a while longer with the promise of a meal. He had grown fond of the boy and knew he would miss him. He also knew there was nothing to be done to change Santiago’s mind.
“What will you do, Santiago?”
“First I will get a bath!” He smelled himself below the arms and his face grimaced. They laughed.
“There is something I must put into safekeeping then I must see the priest to tell him what happened.”
“But you can not do that tonight! Please, stay with me for one night. I will probably never see you again. It would mean a great deal to me!”
Ramón asked with such sincerity that Santiago could not refuse. What would one more night mean to him before he could explore the places that so fascinated him, if it meant that it would make Ramón happy! Santiago nodded agreement. Ramón was so pleased that he clapped his hands and this made Santiago laugh even more, to see Moraga so child-like.
They entered a small saloon not far from the docks. Moraga ordered meals and a tankard of ale for each of them. As they ate Ramón noticed Santiago’s eyes fully entranced with all that was going on. Sitting at a window that looked out into the street, the boy was mesmerized and talked continuously. Ramón was surprised to see him blossom so, as it was not what he had become accustomed to seeing in the past three days. But he was happy to see that Santiago was having a wonderful time.
When they finished, Ramón suggested they go to the rooming house he always used when in town.
“Ramón, could we walk around a bit to see more, before we retire?”
“Let us get the room first, Santiago. If we wait longer there may be no rooms left. We can walk around later.”
The rooming house was across from Portsmouth Square, a wooden-frame building that had been erected after the most recent fire and it was still not completed. Santiago carried what little luggage he owned, setting the two bags and bedding in the corner. Ramón paid an extra charge and purchased a bath for both of them. The owner brought several pots of boiling water and looked questioningly at the boy when Santiago immediately stripped and plunged into the metal tub. Mr. Kaufman had reservations about the two, as he had seen Ramón come and go with different boys before. He suspected what was going on and did not approve. Still, the room was paid for and one had to learn to mind one’s own business and ignore all sorts of strange goings-on when one owned such an establishment.
They dressed in fresh clothing and Santiago felt renewed, the way he used to feel when, as a little boy his mother bathed him and sprinkled him with toilet water. Ramón had such toiler water and he chased Santiago about the room splashing him. Ramón said that he now smelled better than the other boys they would see and that Santiago could well be their competition.
The two walked around the Square and even at this hour of the night, activity was like that of day. Between the hours of four and eight everything ceased for siesta. The town came alive again in the evening as shop windows blazed with the light of whale-oil lamps hung everywhere. Even in cool weather, windows were open and occupants sat at the sills and called out to the throngs that passed.
Hawkers roamed the streets with wares and children followed, playing possum, trying to sneak whatever they could steal from the carts. The sounds of night drifted across the town and mingled with the cry of gulls and the silent fog that moved in to muffle the noises like a damp blanket.
It had rained that afternoon and the streets were muddy. Walkers were ankle-deep in muck. Everyone wore high boots. Walking north on Kearney, Ramón and Santiago went to the brightest and loudest part of town, the very place Santiago and his father had walked through less than three weeks before. This time he was with someone who understood what went o
n there and Santiago felt free to look and ask questions. He observed the boys who stayed on the outskirts of the triangle, which was the least desirable location of those streets used by male prostitutes. Here, the saddest and most used boys sought less-than-desirable clients. He observed Ramón inspecting each boy as they passed. Each doorway had an occupant. Each street corner had its own group of boys. Some seemed to be socializing as they laughed and shoved each other like little children. But the child-like quality of their play ended as soon as they noticed the approach of a potential client. Boys broke from the group to exchange a few words, then either walked away with a man or returned to wait for another.
Santiago and Ramon were scrutinized by each boy they passed. Santiago could see that the boys assumed he had just been picked up and he became excited at the thought of being seen as one of them. He noticed how each boy they passed had his own way of making himself available. He saw that some looked more like women. Some looked too young, like school-boys out of class. There were others whose eyes were so filled with hatred that they frightened him and he wondered how anyone would take the risk of buying one of these boys!
Others were beguiling young men without the hardness that the street imparts. A few looked as if just beginning their quick-lived careers. There was a glimmer in their eyes that made his pulse beat rapidly and he was filled with a rush of excitement and he was both thrilled and frightened. One boy in particular caught his eye. The lad, who was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, was dark complexioned and probably of Indian lineage. His deep-set eyes looked hauntingly from an almost-harsh face and his combined beauty was most sensual. Santiago was attracted. The boy-prostitute acknowledged Santiago’s presence with an animosity that exists only between rivals.
PEG BOY Page 14