“They cut this mine by hand?” Jem gulped. “That would take years!”
“Sterling used blasting powder off and on,” Pa answered, “but that caused more problems than it solved. The Chinese are chipping away by hand.”
The tapping sounded louder now, and Jem could see a far-off glow from many lanterns. He shivered. It was cold and clammy underground. Drop by drop, the seeping water splashed on his head.
“Ugh!” Chad swiped water from his face and looked at Jem. “Glad I’m not a miner.”
The tapping and clanging suddenly stopped. Jem heard whispers, scraping, and the sound of shuffling feet. A Chinese man approached, holding his lantern high. He was dressed in a dirty, ragged tunic and loose-fitting pants. His free hand clutched a pickax.
“What do you want here?” he demanded in good English. The lantern light bounced off the rocks, revealing a trembling hand.
Behind him, five or six others appeared, armed with pickaxes, shovels, and wary scowls. Jem caught his breath. It was clearly not the first time these miners had greeted unwelcome visitors to their claim. Then he remembered what Pa had said at supper last night. Mr. Sterling was urging the men in town to force the scavengers from their mine. No wonder they looked worried.
Pa stepped forward. Jem stayed back. “It’s Sheriff Coulter, Wu Hao.”
“Have you come with threats from Sterling, Sheriff?” Wu Hao growled.
“No,” Pa assured him. “Look”—he swept his hand to take in Jem and Chad—“I brought my son and another boy. It’s a friendly visit. Mr. Carter would like to talk to you about your mine. Then we’ll leave.” He spread his hands out. “Will you put down your picks and listen?”
Wu Hao searched the sheriff’s face then set down his pickax and seemed to relax. His comrades did not. The Chinese miner spoke to the men behind him. They shuffled, talked in short, excited bursts, then backed off.
Wu Hao turned to Pa. “We will listen. But only because we respect you, Sheriff. Whatever this man has to say, it will not change our minds. We pay our tax. The mine is ours.”
“I understand,” Pa said.
“Come.” Wu Hao lifted his lantern and led them to the end of the tunnel. Half a dozen Chinese surrounded them in watchful silence, still gripping their mining tools. Their broad, golden faces seemed carved from stone. Long black pigtails hung down their backs. A rusting ore cart took up most of this section of the mine. It was half filled with ore hacked from the sides and roof of the tunnel. From overhead, small rocks crumbled and fell in a pebbly shower.
What a miserable way to make a living, Jem thought, ducking out of the way.
Someone must have been working on the mine’s ceiling just before the visitors came calling. Without warning, more rocks loosened and fell. Jem flattened himself against the tunnel wall and held his breath.
Pa shouted a warning and lunged at Wu Hao just as a section of the tunnel’s ceiling came crashing down.
CHAPTER 12
Taking Sides
Jem flung his arms over his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the rocks and dust to settle. There was nothing he could do to help. Staying out of harm’s way seemed the best choice. Something soft and squishy slammed against Jem, knocking him to the ground. When he opened his eyes, Chad lay half-sprawled on top of him.
Jem shoved the heavier boy aside and sat up. His eyes watered from the fine dust that hung thick in the air. He sneezed.
Chad groaned and rubbed his arm. “That was close. A big rock just missed me.”
Pa hurried over. “You boys all right?” He slapped dust and debris from his arms and shoulders and let out a relieved breath. “One of the daily hazards of mining these old claims,” he explained. “You never know when the section you’re working on will take a notion to let loose and come down on top of you.”
Jem glanced down at the quartz ore scattered at his feet. Give me a gold pan and a creek any day. One second the rocks were part of the mine’s ceiling. A second later they were part of the floor. If Pa hadn’t shoved Wu Hao out of the way, he’d be … Jem shuddered.
Wu Hao shook the dirt from his tunic and stepped forward. He nodded toward the rubble. “Thank you, Sheriff, for your quick hands and feet. We did not expect the rock to break loose so suddenly. Many days we have worked on it.” He looked pleased. The fact that he’d almost found himself under the debris didn’t seem to faze him. “We have much work. You go now.”
The Chinese descended on the mound of ore like a flock of vultures on a steer’s carcass. They ignored their unwelcome guests and hurried to examine the rocks and pile them into the cart. Their voices rose in eagerness.
“What about—” Jem started to say.
Pa cut him off him with a frown and joined the busy miners. “You agreed to listen to my friend. It won’t take long.”
An impatient look crossed Wu Hao’s face, but he straightened and gave Pa a curt nod. “Very well. Since you, Sheriff, think it best, we will listen. But say it quickly so we can return to our work.” The others paused and waited.
Mr. Carter stepped forward. “Thank you. I’ll make this short and simple. I would like to buy your mine.”
The men reacted with soft gasps and quick intakes of breath. They had clearly not expected such an offer. The startled look in Wu Hao’s eyes faded, and he wrinkled his brow. “You would buy what you tried to take?”
“I had no part in that ugly business, Wu Hao,” Chad’s father said. “I’ve come to offer you a fair and honest price. Whatever you think your mine is worth.”
The Chinese miner frowned then motioned to his companions. They moved off and began speaking together in their own language. Jem listened as their singsong voices rose and fell. Please say yes! he pleaded silently.
Finally, Wu Hao broke away from the others and stood before Pa and Mr. Carter. He shook his head. “Sterling deals with blows. You come with words. Neither will drive us out. The mine is not for sale.”
Jem’s shoulders slumped. Didn’t they care what happened to Goldtown?
Mr. Carter didn’t appear ready to take no for an answer. He squared his shoulders and pressed harder. “Perhaps you don’t understand how important this is. To reopen the Midas, the tunnels must go deep—far deeper than ever before. The men can’t breathe down there without ventilation. An air shaft will go straight up, and it needs to go through this mine. Without it, the Midas will close. The miners will have no way to earn a living.”
Wu Hao didn’t blink. “We also need the mine to make a living.” He picked up a fist-sized rock from the pile of rubble. “Do you see these specks? It is gold. Not a lot, but enough to live.”
“I will pay you well,” Mr. Carter urged. He took the ore from Wu Hao, examined it closely, and handed it back. “More than enough to make up for any gold you might find now or in the future. You can buy another business.”
“Where?”
“Here, or anywhere you like.”
Wu Hao gave a short, bitter laugh. “And … if somebody decide they want that business, will we be asked to sell it also?” He let the rock fall from his hand. “Six years ago they drive us from our claim in Drytown. We come here, hoping to put down roots and make a place for ourselves.” He shook his head. “We will not pull up roots again.”
Jem knew all about roots being pulled up. For years, each school term began with empty seats, seats that once held Jem’s and Ellie’s friends. When prospectors moved on to fresh diggings, they dragged their families with them. The seats were soon filled with new faces from other gold camps.
Thankfully, the opening of the Midas mine had changed all that. But now, if Goldtown died, everyone’s roots would be yanked up. “It’s for the good of everybody in town,” Jem burst out. Then he clamped his jaw shut. Pa was giving him his you-keep-quiet look.
Wu Hao turned to Jem. “We are not treated like everybody in town.”
Jem flushed at the memory of last week. The Chinese miner was right. Jem’s wagonload of firewood had interrupt
ed the town bullies from ganging up on his friend Wu Shen. I sure put my foot in my mouth this time!
Pa clearly agreed. “Jeremiah, why don’t you and Chad go out for some fresh air? Mr. Carter and I will be along in a minute.”
When Jem started to protest, Pa shook his head and passed him the lantern. Chad plucked Jem’s sleeve, and together the two boys hurried back the way they’d come. “And mind you keep a lookout for holes,” Pa’s voice echoed after them.
Jem strained to hear the tail end of the adults’ conversation.
“And you, Sheriff?” Wu Hao asked. “Do you agree? Must we give up our mine?”
“I won’t take sides,” came Pa’s faint reply. “It’s your choice, and the law is on your side. But the offer to buy your mine is an honest one.”
Jem didn’t catch Wu Hao’s reply. He didn’t have to. Mr. Carter could talk from now until sundown, and it wouldn’t make a difference. The Chinese scavengers appeared stuck tight as ticks to their diggings.
Chad gave a long, low whistle when he and Jem broke out into the bright, morning sunshine. “That miner paid Father no more mind than if he were a chattering chipmunk,” he said. “Now there’s going to be real trouble.”
Jem wished Wu Hao had agreed to sell the mine, but he hadn’t. The mine owners would just have to think of something else. “What trouble?” he shot at Chad. “The law is on Wu Hao’s side. There’s nothing Mr. Sterling can do about that.”
Chad snorted. “You’re talking like your greenhorn, city cousin now. Since when does spouting off the law make everybody follow it?”
Jem bristled.
“Mr. Sterling’s the biggest frog in the puddle around here,” Chad said, wagging his head. “He can do plenty. The law may be on the scavengers’ side, but your father is the law. He said he wouldn’t take sides, but”—Chad glanced back at the mine opening—“he just did.”
Pa didn’t say much when he and Mr. Carter came out of the mine. He mounted up and headed just where Jem figured he’d go—straight to the Sterling mansion. Jem didn’t know what he should do. Follow along? Go back to the ranch? Pa hadn’t sent him home, so maybe he’d see how it played out. Pa had a way with words. Folks usually listened when he spoke.
“It won’t be fun for the sheriff to break bad news to an important person like Mr. Sterling,” Chad whispered when the grown-ups were well ahead of the boys.
Jem didn’t answer. He hoped Chad was wrong. Mr. Sterling knew the law. He and Chad’s pa could come up with another idea for the air shaft. Surely, Mr. Sterling wouldn’t act like a low-down claim jumper and try to steal Wu Hao’s mine. He couldn’t. If he did, Pa would have to arrest him like any other lawbreaker.
Jem swallowed. What a terrible idea!
“Aren’t you coming?” Chad yelled.
Jem jerked from his dismal thoughts and focused on the riders in front of him. It wasn’t a long way from the old Belle diggings to the Sterling place, but he’d fallen behind. He slammed his heels into Copper’s sides. “Giddup!”
Copper snorted and shot ahead. Jem grimaced when he rode past the deserted stamp mill. It stood as eerily silent as the week before, when Jem had gotten a taste of the miners’ feelings about losing their livelihoods. At the time, their anger had boiled over onto the mine superintendent and Mr. Sterling. Now, it had shifted. Only a handful of Chinese scavengers stood between the miners and their jobs.
Jem caught up just as they reached the Sterling mansion. The sun reflected off Pa’s silver star when he dismounted. The shiny badge reminded Jem how dangerous a sheriff’s job could get. The old, familiar fear for Pa’s safety began to creep into Jem’s thoughts. Before it could freeze his mind, Jem squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.
God, I thought worrying was behind me, what with Pa being a crack shot an’ all. Now, all of a sudden, I’m scared again. What if Pa has to stand against the whole town, on account of a few Chinese scavengers? Please don’t let that happen. Give Pa the right words to say to Mr. Sterling.
Jem gulped and finished his prayer in a hurry. And, God? Make me brave enough to stand with Pa, ’cause right now I’m not sure where I stand. I think I’d just as soon Wu Shen and his family left the mine … any way they can.
There. He’d said it. Maybe not out loud, but he’d said it to God. He felt disloyal not only to his friend Wu Shen—and his family’s right to work their claim—but to Pa as well.
Trouble was, Jem didn’t know whose side he was on. Not anymore.
CHAPTER 13
From Bad to Worse
From the first knock, Jem knew things would go badly. A grim-faced Mr. Sterling opened the door and stepped out on the wide veranda. It looked like he’d been awaiting their arrival and had shooed the housekeeper away to greet his guests alone. He did not invite them inside. Instead, he closed the door behind him, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and narrowed his eyes.
“Well?”
“I did my best, Ernest,” Mr. Carter said with a shrug, “but apparently their mine is not for sale.”
“Their mine!” Mr. Sterling scoffed. “I told you it was a waste of time, James. All those scavengers understand is force. Well, don’t worry. They’ll get out.” He uncrossed his arms and pointed a meaty finger in the sheriff’s direction. “I want you to evict those claim jumpers, Sheriff.”
Pa let out a breath. “I can’t do that, and you know it. It’s their claim.”
“Scavenger claims don’t count in my book.”
Pa’s expression turned hard. “They count in the town’s book, and that’s all I’m interested in.”
Mr. Sterling stepped across the porch until he and the sheriff stood nose to nose. “I dug that tunnel!” he shouted in Pa’s face. “There wouldn’t be any mine if I hadn’t opened it up all those years ago. And there won’t be any town if the Midas shuts down. No. More. Goldtown.” He punctuated each word with a jab to Pa’s chest. “Do you understand?”
Jem wanted to plug his ears and hightail it home. Or punch Mr. Sterling. How could Pa stand there and let Mr. Sterling bully him?
Pa didn’t flinch. He didn’t back down. He didn’t yell. “Of course I understand,” he said. “I want that air shaft as much as you and James do. But you’ll have to find another way. You can’t take Wu Hao’s claim.”
Mr. Sterling deflated like a leaky balloon. “You would let this town die for a handful of scavengers? Whose side are you on, Sheriff Coulter?”
It took Pa no time to answer. “When it’s the miners destroying your property, I’m on your side, Ernest. When it’s you trying to jump somebody’s legal claim, I’m on theirs.”
Mr. Sterling’s face turned red. His jabbing finger returned to Pa’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Sheriff. James Carter and I do not intend to simply throw up our hands and—”
“Sorry, Ernest,” Mr. Carter broke in. “I can’t be a part of this. I’m with the sheriff. Forcing those scavengers out is wrong … and illegal.”
Mr. Sterling whirled on his houseguest. “Are you crazy, James? Do you know what this means?” He didn’t wait for an answer but took a step back and grunted, “I’ll deal with this myself. No need for you to get your fingers dirty.”
He turned to Pa. “The circuit judge is due in town any day. If you haven’t the gumption to throw those scavengers out, we’ll see what Judge Reece has to say. In the meantime, Sheriff”—his eyes glinted dangerously—“I suggest you keep to your ranch and out of town.”
Pa stood his ground. “I hope that’s not a threat, Ernest. If it is, and you stir up more trouble in town, I’ll be right there—along with my deputies—to see that your rowdy miners behave themselves.”
Mr. Sterling snorted. “I doubt you’ll be able to hire any deputies. They know which side their bread is buttered on.”
Jem’s stomach churned listening to Mr. Sterling’s mean-mouthed threats. The mine owner’s tongue shot hot little word darts, poking Pa, trying to make him back down and give in. Pity for Will suddenly pricked at the back of
Jem’s mind. If Mr. Sterling talked to his children half as mean as he was bossing Pa, then no wonder Will acted like he did.
Help me not to fly into Will the next time he acts up or shows off, Jem prayed. If Pa can stand there and take it, so can I … well … maybe.
Watching Pa stand up to Mr. Sterling gave Jem an idea. He still didn’t know which side he was on—whichever side keeps Pa safe, he told himself—but there was something he could do to stand up to Mr. Sterling’s mean and bossy ways. Besides, he was sick of listening to him.
“Pa,” Jem broke in. He was too upset to worry about his bad manners. “I’ve got something I have to do. I’ll see you back at the ranch, if that’s all right.”
Pa raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He nodded and turned back to Mr. Sterling, who seemed not to have noticed Jem’s rude interruption. The mine owner was on another rant. Chad made a move toward Jem, but Jem shook his head. This was something he had to do himself. Chad slumped. Clearly, he wanted a reason to escape the charged air. It seemed to crackle around the three men.
Jem clomped down the porch steps and around to the kitchen entrance. Saturday was firewood delivery day. He had to talk to Cook before then. He rapped on the door and waited. Then he waited some more. Another rap, harder this time. It was almost noon. Surely, the Sterling’s cook was inside preparing the meal. A curtain hung across the glass pane in the door. It was no use trying to peer inside to see what was going on.
Jem was lifting his fist to bang on the windowpane when the door opened. Will stood in the doorway, munching on the biggest sugar cookie Jem had ever seen. “What do you want?” Will demanded between mouthfuls.
None of your business nearly flew from Jem’s mouth, but he bit the words back. “Is your cook around?” he asked.
Will popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth and swiped a careless sleeve across his face. It didn’t help much. Cookie crumbs stuck to his cheeks like pale freckles. “She’s busy.”
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