A Trail of Broken Dreams

by Barbara Haworth-Attard

  “What about the funeral?” Mr. Mallard shouted — the dead miner’s funeral was later that morning. But the men never paused. They had to follow the miner to see where he’d struck it rich.

  Mr. Mallard told me to clean up and then go do something else for the day, as the place was empty and he guessed he and Old Jackson had to go to the funeral. It was as I was turning around with a stack of plates that I saw Talbot standing there. He’d seen and heard everything, and his eyes had that gold-fever shine in them. He told me he was going to find his fortune.

  I’m embarrassed to say that my tongue turned quite nasty from my disappointment at his leaving. “I can’t say I saw any nuggets as big as strawberries for the picking.”

  His face turned beet red and I knew he recalled boasting about how Cariboo had nuggets to spare. Then I remembered Mama telling me it never does any good pricking a man’s pride, and she was right, because I could see right then and there that Talbot was dead set to go, if just to prove me wrong, and if something happens to him, well, there’s only me to blame. Too bad I hadn’t remembered that before I opened my mouth.

  Mr. Mallard yelled at me for not shovelling up the mule droppings in front of the door. Seems he stepped right into them.

  October 8, 1862

  I feel time passing, winter closing in with every frostbitten night and fallen leaf. We had one real bad snowstorm four days back, and it’s snowed off and on each day since. I remember when we set out from Fort Garry how long the day stretched into the night, and now it’s the night beginning to stretch into the day.

  Richfield is becoming quiet, as many of the miners leave to winter in Victoria. After the day in, day out noise around here, it seems very strange. Even the saloon is emptying. I know I should be looking for Father. I need to find him soon or I’ll be stuck here for the winter! But I have asked so many people if they know him, that sometimes I cannot bring myself to ask another person and hear them say no. It is as if my brain has stopped thinking and my body is too tired to move. I keep reminding myself I walked over prairies, mountains and rivers to find him, so I better get going, but instead my hands make biscuits (I’m getting quite well-known all over town for them) and sweep and shovel and I tell myself I’ll search the next day.

  October 9, 1862

  Snowed steadily all night. I bought myself men’s wool drawers from the store with my money from the saloon. I hated parting with the money, but thought it better to get the warm clothing than suffer chills and take a fever. They’re very scratchy.

  October 10, 1862

  I have finally taken myself in hand. At breakfast I overheard the men in the saloon say that the priest goes along the creeks throughout Cariboo, ministering to the miners. He might have seen Father! I’m trying to decide if a Methodist is supposed to talk to a Roman Catholic priest. Perhaps if I’d been more pious I would have found Father by now. I used to be in the habit of going to services, and now I’m in the habit of not going. A new fault of mine.

  I paid to send a letter to William and Luella, though I addressed it to the Chief Factor at Fort Garry, because I was afraid Mrs. Owen might open it, see it was from me, and not tell them about it. I miss them something dreadful. I told them I was real close to finding Father, which I hope I will be by the time the letter gets to them.

  Evening

  I’m so excited! I finally got the nerve up to speak to the priest — his name is Father Alfred — and he was very nice. He said he would “put out some inquiries,” which strikes me as much more elegant than saying, “I’ll ask around.” My heart is leaping with excitement.

  I must remember that phrase, put out some inquiries. I’d like to try that out on Talbot, but of course he’s not here.

  October 11, 1862

  I’m hiding in the shed! I’ve had such a shock my legs have the wobbles. I was carrying dirty plates back towards the kitchen when I heard a voice I recognized. John! I quickly ran around the curtain that separates the kitchen from the saloon, and peeked out. Sure enough, there he was with his brother! Mr. Mallard is yelling for me, but I’m afraid to come out. I’ll wait a bit and hopefully John and Thomas will be gone.

  Evening

  Father is dead, and I have probably lost Luella and William. I can’t stop crying, dear diary, my heart is so sore. I don’t know what to do or what will become of me.

  Very late at night

  I do not think I have any more tears in me. I am at a Mrs. McManus’s house, as it has been decided that this is the best place for me now that I’m back to being Harriet. I will tell you what happened, dear diary, because I don’t feel like I have anyone left in the whole world now except you.

  John and Thomas had not left the saloon when I went back. They saw me and told Mr. Mallard I was a girl. Mr. Mallard’s eyes bulged when he heard of my deception. He was hustling me out of the saloon when we ran into the priest coming in. Father Alfred’s face was grave, and right then, dear diary, I knew something bad was coming.

  Father Alfred told me he had found out that Father had died on Williams Creek three days ago of mountain fever. He said no one was sure where the body was at present, but he would find out.

  Father is dead and all is lost.

  October 12, 1862, very early

  I cannot sleep. I have a gut feeling that tells me Father is not really dead. I wish Joe and his gut were here, or Henry or Talbot. I have no one. I overheard the priest tell Mr. Mallard that the man who had told him about Father said Father’s claim was two miles down the creek and was notable for two trees having fallen across each other to form a large X. Father Alfred also told Mr. Mallard that it was rumoured that the claim was a good paying one.

  Later

  I am hiding behind a tree stump up on the slope above town. The sky is lightening now and soon I will be able to see well enough to walk. I dash these few sentences off to give me courage. I am scared at my own daring, dear diary, but I need to see Father’s claim for myself. I put on my old clothes and took my packs and crept away from Mrs. McManus’s in the early morning hours while it was still dark, so no one would see me leave. I placed the nightgown under the blanket on Mrs. McManus’s spare bed, to look like I lie there, in the hopes she will think I am still asleep. My neck pricks all of a sudden, dear diary, like it does when you feel you are being spied upon. I best leave before I lose all heart.

  Late afternoon

  Father is not dead! He is quite ill, but very much alive! I swear I cannot take any more of these shocks! And, dear diary, Talbot is with me! He has gone to look around Father’s claim. Yes — Father’s. I found it. And him. I have so much to tell you.

  I waded through deep snow along the creek. The number of miners has thinned out, most returning south to winter, with only the miners with deep shafts that can be worked in winter, or those desperate for gold, remaining. I felt very lonely, and my neck still pricking as if I were being watched, though no one was about, so I sang a song Mama used to sing to me when I was little, “Aiken Drum.” I’d just got to “and he played upon a ladle, ladle, a ladle” when suddenly a voice shouted, “And we thought Joe was a terrible singer! That’s the worst wailing I’ve ever heard!” It was Talbot! I didn’t even care if it was proper or not, I gave him a great big hug. He was looking thin and I asked if he’d been eating steady. Seems he joined up with a couple of men who promised him a share of their profits when they hit gold — I believe they took him because he was young and could work hard. They were digging a shaft, but it filled up with water and they never found any gold. Talbot was heading back to Richfield, when he heard my singing.

  Despite the snow falling heavily, we soon found two trees that formed an X, and behind them a cabin. Talbot went in first because I was too scared of what we might find. He soon came out and told me there was a man in there, ill with fever. I was absolutely terrified to go in, but made my feet move, and there on a cot was Father — a thinner, bearded Father, thrashing about and twisting the blankets. I knelt beside him and he opened his eyes
. “Harriet?” he whispered. “Am I dreaming?” I told him it was really me. Even as I write these words, I am still amazed I found him.

  I had Talbot build up the fire, as it was stone cold in there, and I quickly made Father some tea. I told him everyone thought him dead. He said it was his partner, Sam Simpson, who’d died of mountain fever, and that he himself had taken ill a few days ago. He is sleeping now and I have broth cooking for when he wakes.

  I didn’t tell him about Mama, because I worried about his strength. That can wait. I thought perhaps we should move Father to Richfield, but Talbot says the snow is too deep and the cold might make Father worse, and we should wait a day. I know Talbot is right, but I’m so scared something will happen to Father, and I couldn’t stand to lose him, not now when I’ve just found him.

  October 12, 1862, late

  I can’t sleep. I’m so jittery. I listen to Father’s breathing, and sometimes I think it is easier, and sometimes I think it is not. It snows heavily and steadily. Trees crack and fall beneath the weight of it and I jump at every noise. I told Talbot I heard footsteps outside, but he tells me it is nothing and to stop being a Nervous Nellie.

  After I got the broth into Father and he fell asleep again, Talbot and I went and looked around the claim. There is a deep shaft, which must have taken Father and his partner a long time to dig. There is a ladder in the shaft, but Talbot lowered me down in a bucket with the windlass. I was very excited, thinking I would see lots of gold, but nothing glittered. It was just cold, damp and dark. I came back to the cabin to check on Father, though Talbot stayed a while longer. Father woke once while Talbot was still out, and told me something, dear diary, that I do not know whether to believe or not, as the fever makes him ramble in his talk. He keeps saying he hid gold “at the cross.” I don’t know what he means. I’m trying to decide whether or not to tell Talbot.

  October 13, 1862, early morning

  We found it! We found Father’s gold! I was drifting off to sleep when suddenly I figured out what Father meant by “at the cross” — the two trees that mark his claim! I woke Talbot and insisted we go immediately to find it. He wasn’t too excited at first to go out in the snow and cold and dark, but when I told him we were hunting for gold he perked right up. It took us a good hour, but we dug through the snow and found a hollow beneath the root of one of the trees and there was the gold! The whole time we dug, my neck pricked, but Talbot said it was me being a Nervous Nellie again. I told him I didn’t like our footprints leading from the tree back to the cabin. He said he’d hide the gold again so I wouldn’t have to worry. I’m waiting for him to come back now.

  October 14, 1862

  What an exciting time we’ve had! I will write it all down so I don’t forget. William will think he is reading an adventure story and will be pea green with envy that it happened to me and not him. I can say this now that everything is over, but for a while I thought all was lost!

  Well, Talbot did come back, but not alone! John was with him, with a rifle pointed at the middle of Talbot’s back! It seems John followed me to the claim. He was returning from the saloon’s privy and saw me leaving Mrs. McManus’s house. He was the one that made my neck prickle! I knew someone was following me. Anyway, I told him I’d show him where the gold was if he left us alone and just let us get Father safely back to town! Thankfully, Father slept through the commotion.

  So, rifle pointing at my back and Talbot’s, we waded through knee-deep snow to the shaft. My plan was that I would tell John the gold was at the bottom of the shaft and when John climbed down the ladder to find it, Talbot and I would pull the ladder out and leave him stranded at the bottom. I was pretty proud of myself for that plan. Unfortunately, when we got to the shaft John told Talbot to climb down and bring up the gold. I must admit I hadn’t allowed for that.

  Talbot wasted a bit of time fussing with the ladder and shooting hopeful glances at me, no doubt wondering what the heck my plan was and why I wasn’t putting it into action. But my brain was in its worst burning turmoil of all time! Finally there was nothing left for Talbot to do but to go back down the ladder.

  After a few minutes he yelled up, “Lower the bucket and I’ll put the gold in it.”

  John gestured to me to turn the handle of the windlass to bring the bucket up. I tried to pull up the bucket, but it was heavy going. (Talbot had weighted it down with rocks, I found out later.) I let the bucket slip back down, and told John I couldn’t get it up myself. He pushed me aside and took the handle, though he too found it hard going, and was forced to lay down his rifle. I thought about grabbing it, but wasn’t sure if I could shoot him if need be, and by then he’d told me to help turn the handle.

  We managed a few turns, but then the bucket stuck. John let go of the handle and leaned over the shaft and yelled at Talbot to see what it was caught on.

  In that moment I let go of the handle myself and it flew about and caught John dead centre in the back and he tumbled headfirst down the shaft!

  I was horrified. I thought I’d killed him.

  At that very moment Old Jackson and Mr. Mallard came up on snowshoes. I’m embarrassed to say, dear diary, that when they arrived, I began to sob. I couldn’t even breathe, I cried so hard thinking I’d murdered John.

  Talbot called up that John was out cold with a goose egg on the back of his head, but was breathing fine. He emptied the rocks and managed to get John into the bucket and Mr. Mallard and Old Jackson pulled him up

  We all went into the cabin, the men dragging John, who was still out cold. When he came to, Old Jackson asked him why he’d tried to steal our gold. John said he thought if he came back with gold, it would prove to Thomas that he wasn’t a good-for-nothing. Seems that the rumours of Father’s claim being a rich one had flown about town, and when John saw me leave Mrs. McManus’s place, he decided to follow me. Old Jackson just shook his head and told John he was taking him back to Richfield to go before Judge Begbie.

  John’s face paled so much to hear that, I thought he’d faint dead away again. Judge Begbie has a reputation of being harsh with those who break the law. While John pleaded with Old Jackson and Mr. Mallard not to turn him over to Judge Begbie, I pulled Talbot outside the door. Talbot started to tell me how John had managed to grab the rope halfway down the shaft to slow his fall, and if he hadn’t done that, he would be dead of a broken neck, but I wasn’t really that interested. I mean, I’m glad John didn’t break his neck, but I had a burning question for Talbot. Where was the gold?

  “In the privy, of course,” he said. “The last place anyone would look.”

  I told him that was perfectly disgusting. He said that everything was frozen in there. Frozen or not, dear diary, it is still disgusting.

  When we got back inside, Old Jackson asked me what was I doing, upsetting everyone by stealing away in the middle of the night. I apologized and told them how badly I felt that I’d put them to so much trouble. It seems Mrs. McManus had left me to sleep through the day, thinking me grief-sticken, and only sounded the alarm in the evening when she went to wake me and found it was the nightgown sleeping and not me!

  Mr. Mallard and Old Jackson said they thought Father would do better back in town, so we got him bundled up and they and Talbot pulled him back to Richfield on a makeshift toboggan. John was able to make his way back with us, though he stumbled a lot. There is a doctor here who told me that mountain fever is very dangerous, and that I’m lucky Father has survived it. He does say that Father is on the mend, but will be very weak for a long time.

  So right now, dear diary, I am writing this in our room at the fancy French hotel. We are staying here for the winter until Father regains his health. The hotel is really not all that fancy. In fact, I would almost rather be back in the saloon, but I guess I won’t be seeing the inside of that place for some time. I did, though, have a good bath and rinsed out my boy’s clothes. Mrs. McManus gave me an old skirt of hers. I’ve grown so much walking over the mountains that I didn’t even need to short
en it.

  Talbot is anxious to see his father, so he and Old Jackson are leaving shortly to go to Victoria.

  I’m very sleepy, dear diary, and I will admit this hotel bed is soft. I think I am glad to not be travelling for a while. My feet are walked out. And my hand is falling off my wrist from writing so much!

  October 17, 1862

  Finally, Father and I had a good talk about Mama and shared a few tears over her passing. I gave him Mama’s wedding ring and watch that I’d carried all this way. I told him I’d try to break my fault of stubbornness for her, but he pointed out that perhaps it was my being stubborn that kept me going all the way over prairies and mountains to find him. He gave me back the watch for my own and said Mama would be very proud of me. That brought more tears.

  I told him of Luella and William, and the Owens taking them to Toronto. It sure felt good to put that worry on someone else’s shoulders. He said he’d send a letter with Talbot and Old Jackson to mail once they got to Victoria, telling the Owens they were not to take Luella and William away, as he would be back in the spring to get them. Father said he had sent us two other letters, but they must have arrived after I left, or gone astray.

  A day of goodbyes, dear diary. Old Jackson stopped by and said he didn’t turn John over to the Judge after all, but to Thomas — which we both agreed might be worse than the judge! Old Jackson then said that he didn’t think he’d come back to Cariboo in the spring. He says he doesn’t like to be in one place too long. I finally got the nerve to ask him where he came from and he hemmed and hawed, then finally said he used to be a bank manager in New York City — I wonder if he really was a bank robber! — and then he told me all about New York City. It sounds wonderful! Talbot also came by (though he’ll be back, as you’ll soon discover why, dear diary) and wasn’t his face a picture when he saw me in a skirt! We sat on two chairs in the hotel lobby like perfect strangers while he said his goodbyes. I asked him to send me news of the Schuberts if he could, as I often think of them. It was only when I saw him to the door that I remembered this was Talbot, my best friend, and gave him a quick hug. He grinned and said, “See you in the spring, Harry,” and we weren’t strangers anymore.