Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  “Not exactly.”

  Her family needn’t know how her heart had taken a little leap that first moment when she walked into the library and laid eyes on Garth Morgan. What a gorgeous man. Tall, with a powerful build, he had great wide shoulders and dark hair that curled carelessly around his collar. He had straight, white teeth that contrasted with his olive skin, and eyes of the deepest sky blue. As if that weren’t enough, when he smiled, two captivating dimples appeared in his cheeks. Altogether, he was just so handsome, so strongly masculine that she had been nearly overwhelmed and had to steady herself before she could open her mouth to speak to him.

  “Actually, he’s not so bad looking, but what do looks matter? The man is arrogant, conceited, and heartless.”

  “Pretty is as pretty does,” her mother said, dipping into her vast collection of pithy sayings. With a furrowed brow she continued, “I don’t know, Letty. It’s all so hopeless, really. We can’t make Garth Morgan give the gold back. If that map Charles sent us is accurate, a fortune awaits us, but it’s three thousand miles away, and we have no way of getting there. That’s the sad part. We have no man to help us, so we’re totally powerless.”

  Letty secretly bristled as she always did when confronted with the limits of her gender. Born with a streak of independence, she preferred to think she could manage her own affairs quite nicely, without the help of a man. “I suppose you’re right, Mother. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “Are we going to be poor now?” William asked.

  “Maybe a little, but don’t worry. We won’t be so poor that you’ll have to give up your school.” Letty made herself sound more positive than she felt. Mr. Winslow had said they’d have to cut back “a little.” Such a kind man, no doubt trying to break the news gently that the Tinsleys would soon be poverty-stricken.

  William’s bright eyes gazed into hers. “Why don’t you go to California?”

  Everyone laughed, including Molly, the maid, who was serving dinner. Even surly Elfreda, who’d just come from the kitchen, had a smirk on her face. Only Letty refrained from laughter. The idea wasn’t all that funny. “Why do you say that, William? Don’t you know I’m only a woman?”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” her brother stoutly declared. “You’re strong and as smart as any man. I think if anyone can find out what happened to Charles, you could. You’ve got that map. After you find out about Charles, you could look for the gold. You would find heaps and heaps of it. Then we’d be rich, and we wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

  “Why thank you, William.” Letty was indeed flattered by his vote of confidence. The rest of the family might find his idea amusing, but she did not.

  Later that night, Letty found her mother in bed, reading her Bible by lamplight. “Do you mind if we talk a minute?”

  Mother closed her book. “Of course not. Are you thinking of going to California?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “I know you, Letty. How could you not want to go? As a matter of fact…” Her chin trembled. She fought back tears. “It’s the not knowing that’s the worst. I’d go myself if I could.”

  Letty settled in a chair beside the bed. “Mr. Hastings said Charles is dead. I believe him, only there’s a tiny, irrational part of me that thinks maybe he’s not. What if he’s lost his memory and is wandering around somewhere, not knowing who he is? I know this is crazy, but if I go to California, I could find him and bring him home and…” She couldn’t speak over the lump that had formed in her throat.

  Mother took her hand. “It’s not crazy. I think the same, only….” She sadly shook her head. “You’re a woman. You can’t possibly go traipsing across the country all by yourself.”

  “Why not? I wouldn’t be the first female to head for the Gold Rush.”

  “Those women are few and far between. Not only that, the ones that make the journey aren’t in the same class as you.”

  “You’re saying I’m too refined to go? Too sheltered and delicate?”

  “Not at all.” Mother took a moment to put her thoughts together. “I suspect the reason you’ve never married is you don’t want some man ordering you around.”

  Letty smiled. “Partly, I suppose. But that’s not all. Except for Aaron, I’ve never found a man to suit me.”

  “That’s because you’re too picky. You didn’t like Ben Hancock because he laughed too loud. You rejected Timothy Hogue, a perfectly nice man if I do say so, because his stockings drooped.”

  “And his shoes were scuffed.”

  Mother sighed. “You rejected Jonathan Barlow because—”

  “All right, granted, I’m way too picky. The fact remains I’m single, in good health, and there’s nothing preventing me from going except society’s silly rules about how women must be treated like children and hardly let out of the house.”

  Mother sighed. “How can we afford it?”

  “How can we not?” Letty bit her lip. “I’m not sure. I’ll talk to Mr. Winslow.”

  “I would only agree to let you go if you take Molly with you.”

  “I don’t need a maid. I’ll manage quite nicely by myself.”

  Mother’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “You will take Molly with you, or you won’t go.”

  Letty had long since learned when she could win an argument with her mother and when she could not. “All right then, but I’m not at all sure Molly would want to go.”

  “We’ll see.” Satisfied, Mother gave her a relieved smile. “I’m so grateful you’d want to do this, but do you fully realize the sacrifice you’d be making? What about the choir? How could they get along without you?”

  “Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought.” For several years she’d been the featured soloist at the First Presbyterian Church of Boston. She loved to sing and always enjoyed those Sunday mornings when she stood in front of the chorus and sang to a packed crowd of worshippers. No one ever applauded in church, of course, but when Mr. Cannon, the choir director, raved about her “superb vibrato” and “the purity of her pitch,” that was praise enough. She liked bringing a bit of enjoyment to people’s lives and could see by the many pleased expressions in the audience that she did. “I would hate to leave and dread telling Mr. Cannon.”

  “He would be devastated. He knows you’d be impossible to replace.” Mother frowned thoughtfully. “You have a nice life here, not only with the choir but with your work at the museum, and all your friends. From what I’ve heard, the minute you leave Boston, you’ll face hardships you never dreamed of. There’s no easy way to get to California. After you get there, judging from Charles’s letters and what others say, life in those mining towns is coarse and uncivilized. You’re so neat and meticulous, I don’t know how you’d manage.”

  Letty didn’t either, but she wouldn’t think about it, just go and make the best of it. Yes, she would go, despite the good life she led here. Her heart swelled with excitement. Up to now, California had seemed a million miles away. Any thoughts she had that she might actually go there seemed as real as a trip to the moon. Not anymore. “I’ll talk to Mr. Winslow tomorrow.”

  “What?” declared Addison Winslow. “You want to go to California?”

  Letty had never seen the dignified banker lose his impassive demeanor, but this morning his mouth had dropped open and he was looking across the desk at her in utter amazement.

  She’d just finished relating the news about her brother and now gave the banker a firm nod. “Charles has disappeared. Likely he’s dead, but we don’t know that for sure. I plan to find out.”

  “But—but—” Appearing totally perplexed, the banker drew in a deep breath. “You surprise me, Miss Tinsley. The California goldfields are no place for a delicate, well-brought-up lady like yourself. How you could even entertain the notion of traveling to such a place is—”

  “I am not delicate, Mr. Winslow, and ‘well-brought-up’ has nothing to do with it. Can I have your assistance? I’m much in need o
f your valuable advice in arranging the finances.” She smiled and held out her hand palm up, a pleading gesture she’d long ago found men couldn’t resist. “Please? You have so much experience helping your many clients get to California that I’d hate to go to anyone else.”

  “Well…certainly.” He relaxed and sat back in his chair.

  “What’s the best way to get there?”

  “There’s no good way to travel to California. I can only give you a choice of bad ways.”

  She knew that already. “Please do go on.”

  “You can travel the country in a covered wagon. Across the plains, up over the Rockies. After that, there’s a desert to cross. Then you must cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains before winter or you might get stuck in the snow. Doubtless you’ve heard about the Donner party? And there are others—”

  “Please don’t.” She couldn’t bear to hear such horror stories. “What’s the second way?”

  “You could take the Cape Horn route around the tip of South America and up the Pacific Coast. By the time you get there, you’ve covered fifteen thousand miles, five times the overland distance. Aside from the actual passage around the Horn—it’s always storm-tossed, I understand—it’s fairly safe, but then your ship’s likely to get caught in the doldrums, where there’s no wind and you spend endless days wallowing in the tropical heat. Takes at least five months, maybe more.”

  “And the third?”

  “The Isthmus of Panama. From Boston, you go by ship to Chagres, Panama. You cross the Isthmus to the Pacific, then take another ship north to San Francisco.”

  “Which way is the fastest?”

  “The Isthmus of Panama by far, but—”

  “That’s how I’ll go.”

  “Wait. Let me finish.” The banker leaned toward her, a glint of alarm in his eyes. “The Isthmus is the fastest but most dangerous. After you land at Chagres, you’ve got sixty miles of swamps and steaming hot jungles before you reach the Pacific. You travel the first thirty miles by canoe on the Chagres River, a trip, they tell me, that’s fraught with peril. I recently talked to a client who just returned. He referred to the entire Isthmus as a loathsome spot, a never-ending bed of slime, full of decaying vegetation, alive with crawling reptiles of all sorts. That’s not to mention diseases such as yellow fever, cholera and typhoid. According to him, there’s an excellent chance you wouldn’t leave the Isthmus alive.” The banker raised an eyebrow. “Well, Miss Tinsley? Do you still want to go via the Isthmus?”

  Lord no. Mr. Winslow had painted a horrifying picture. Sixty miles wasn’t so far, though. How hard could it be? She must get to California fast as possible and could surely endure a few slight discomforts for that short a distance. “It’ll be the Isthmus. Could you help me arrange my transportation?”

  The banker rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re sure?”

  “I…I…” Was she making a horrible mistake? She couldn’t even begin to picture where she was heading, just into the dark and dangerous unknown. Not only the Isthmus was frightening, but beyond that, how could she, raised in the safety and comfort of a loving home, fend for herself in a rough and lawless mining town? And yet… If she didn’t try to find her brother, she’d never forgive herself. So she had no choice, really, and should make the best of it, even though she wasn’t at all sure she’d survive. “I’m very sure, Mr. Winslow.”

  The banker shook his head and made a clucking sound. “It’s almost unthinkable that you should travel to California without a male escort.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. I shall manage.”

  “At least you’ll have a maid?”

  “Of course.” She hadn’t asked Molly yet, but she’d worry about that later.

  “Very well.” Winslow nodded agreeably. He’d done his duty, lost the argument and was moving on. “You’ll need to speak to a travel agent. I recommend Mr. Abner Massey. He can tell you more about traveling to California and make the arrangements.”

  Letty sat in the office of Mr. Abner Massey. A short man with a bald head and long sideburns, he seemed delighted to help her. “There’s a brand new ship leaving for Chagres, Panama, next week. I’d be happy to arrange for your passage. It’s expensive, I’m afraid. Five hundred dollars for first class, but I understand second-class cabins are nice. I could get you—”

  “What’s the cheapest fare?”

  “The cheapest? That would be steerage. Two hundred, I believe, but you would not want—”

  “I don’t care to spend a penny more than I have to.” Judging from the expression on the travel agent’s face, a mixture of disapproval and horror, she’d better explain further. “My family’s financial situation isn’t the best, so I want to spend as little as possible. Is steerage all that bad?”

  He hesitated but only for a moment. “Not at all. Your room will be only semi-private, but on such a short journey, quite tolerable.”

  “How long is the journey from here to Panama?

  “If all goes well, twelve days.”

  “Is that all? I can endure anything for such a short length of time. I want passage for two, my maid and me.”

  Mr. Massey beamed. “Of course. I shall reserve a semi-private room for you in steerage, which should be quite comfortable. There’s a ship leaving next Friday. Is that too soon?”

  “It couldn’t be soon enough. What kind of ship will we sail on?”

  “You’re in luck, Miss Tinsley. You’ll be traveling on a brand new steamship with double paddlewheels which should get you there in record time. It’s called the Mirabello.”

  When Letty arrived home, the first thing she did was call Molly into the parlor and ask if she’d like to accompany her to California. “We’ll go partly by land, partly by ship. I know this is awfully short notice, but I must have a maid with me, and I want you to come.”

  As she listened, the young, rosy-cheeked maid’s ordinarily pleasant expression changed to one of dismay. “Go to California?” She started shaking her head. “When me and my folks came over from Ireland, those weeks I spent on the boat were the worst in my life. Steerage is a horrible place.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Please, mum, don’t make me go. I value my job, but I’d rather die than set foot on a ship again.”

  The poor girl. Letty gently touched her shoulder. “I had no idea. Of course, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  Tears still rolled down Molly’s cheeks. “You won’t sack me if I don’t?”

  “Of course not.” Letty gave her a confident smile. “I’ll find someone else, so you can just get back to work and don’t worry.” Where she’d find someone else she had no idea, but she’d be a heartless monster if she forced Molly to go.

  “I’ll go.”

  Letty turned to see Elfreda standing in the doorway, the usual dour expression on her face. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’d go with you to California.” Her voice was flat, totally devoid of enthusiasm.

  Oh, no. The sullen cook was the last person in the world Letty would want to come with her. “I’m surprised you’d want to come. Aren’t you happy here?”

  Elfreda gazed at her with hard, unfriendly eyes. “Does it matter whether I’m happy or not?”

  “Well, of course it does. Only…” Damn, she always felt uncomfortable around Elfreda, and now she was stammering. She must think of something to discourage this unpleasant woman. “You don’t seem too enthusiastic, and I wouldn’t want you to feel you must make a sacrifice for my benefit.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be for you, Miss Letty.” Her expression held a note of mockery. “It would be for me.”

  “Well, thank you. I’ll think about it.” What else could she say? She hadn’t much time, but somehow she’d find someone else.

  “You do that.” Elfreda left without another word, leaving Letty in a quandary. What was she going to do? She couldn’t go unless she had a maid, but not their horrid, unpleasant cook.

>   Chapter 5

  Seagulls soared over Boston Harbor. A ribbon of steam rose from the funnels of the steamship, Mirabello, as it lay alongside the pier. Passengers milled about the dock while workers loaded luggage and supplies into nets. Large cranes swung them up, over the deck and into the hold. For Letty, this past week had been a whirlwind of packing, last minute arrangements and saying good-bye to friends. There’d been no time to reflect upon the doubts and dangers of this unforeseen journey and how it would forever change her well-ordered life. The time had come, and here she was, standing on the dock, surrounded by friends and family saying their last good-byes, wondering, is this really happening?

  Mr. Cannon, her choir director stepped up. “We shall all miss you, Letty.” Impulsively he gave her a hug. “Take care of that beautiful voice and do come back. Your place in the choir will be waiting for you.”

  Mother was frowning. “I still don’t think you’ll be warm enough.” She’d been fussing all week, coming up with one worry after another.

  “I’ll be fine. We’ve packed plenty of blankets.” Steerage passengers must provide their own bedding. Letty had argued with her mother about how many blankets to bring. “Don’t forget we’ll be sailing south. By the time we get to Panama, it’ll be steaming hot.”

  Mother finally gave in, agreeing to two blankets for Letty and two for…

  Elfreda.

  Dear Lord, she could hardly believe it. She’d done her best to find a maid, but no young woman she interviewed was willing to head into the dangerous unknown to a place she’d never heard of. Mother held firm. “If you don’t have a maid, you can’t go.” So Elfreda it was, God help her, and she’d just have to make the best of it.

  William had wandered off to talk to one of the ship’s officers and now returned, eager and bright eyed, bursting with information. “The Mirabello is over two-hundred foot long. Imagine, Letty, the paddlewheels on the sides are twenty-six feet in diameter and make thirteen revolutions in a minute.”