Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  “What’s wrong?” She leaped off the pallet to her feet.

  “I’ve been bit! I’ve been bit! It hurts.”

  “Where were you bit?” She knelt by her servant, her insides shaking.

  “My arm. It hurts.”

  Elfreda held out her arm, but Letty could hardly see in the darkness. “Did you see what bit you?”

  “I don’t know.” Elfreda moaned, clutched her arm and started rocking back and forth. “Something dropped down on me. Then I felt a sting, and I knocked whatever it was away. Now my arm is on fire.” She moaned again. “It hurts. Help me, Miss Letty.”

  “Of course I’ll help you. You’re going to be fine.” What now? She’d spoken before she had any idea what she was going to do. Others must have heard the scream and would come to help.

  Washing off the wound seemed a good idea. She was fumbling in the dark for their pail of water when Colonel Connors poked his head through the entrance. “I heard a scream. What’s going on here?”

  What a relief. Surely a military man would know what to do. “Elfreda was bitten by something. She’s in a lot of pain, and I—”

  “Is that all? If she got bit by a bug, just pour water over the sore spot. Not much else you can do in this god-forsaken place.”

  The colonel turned and left, leaving Letty with her mouth agape.

  Elfreda was still moaning, rocking back and forth. “Oh, Miss Letty, I hurt real bad.”

  The sounds of Elfreda’s suffering were hard to bear. Never had Letty felt so completely helpless. She was desperately feeling around the hut, still looking for the water, when a dim light shone into the hut, growing ever brighter. Someone appeared in the doorway. “Are you in there, Miss Tinsley? Do you need help?”

  It was Garth. “Yes! Elfreda got bit by something.”

  He entered the hut, set the lantern down, and knelt by Elfreda who clutched her arm, face twisted with pain. “Let me see.” She held out her arm. He took one look. “Scorpion.”

  “Lord have mercy, will I die?”

  “No, you won’t. Scorpion bites hurt like hell, but they’re never fatal.”

  Letty gave a sigh of relief. If her servant died, she would be completely to blame and would never forgive herself. She addressed Garth. “Could the scorpion still be here?”

  “Let’s take a look.” He arose and held up the lantern. In a corner, the light illuminated a many-legged brownish creature at least six inches long with pincers in front and a tail that curved up and over. As they watched, it scurried off and disappeared.

  “It was a scorpion all right.” She kept her voice calm with an effort. Viewing a scorpion safely dead and pinned to a board in the Boston Museum was one thing. Having it drop from the thatched roof in the middle of the night was quite another.

  She watched as Garth dipped a handkerchief in their pail of water and laid it over the bright red marks on Elfreda’s arm. “A cool compress is about all we can do,” he remarked.

  Elfreda moaned again. Letty asked, “Can we give her something for her pain?”

  “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, leaving the lantern behind. When he returned, he was carrying a gourd of water and a small bottle. “This is laudanum. I’ll give Elfreda one swallow for now. I’ll leave the bottle, and if she needs more during the night, let her have another. That should be enough to kill the pain.”

  Elfreda took a swallow of the laudanum and lay back down on the pallet. Garth and Letty sat beside her until her moans gradually ceased and her eyes closed. “She’s almost asleep,” he whispered. “Come, let’s go for a walk.”

  Letty’s insides were still shaking. She needed a walk and welcomed the invitation, even if it came from Garth Morgan. They left the hut. Silently they strolled through the sleeping village until they reached the dock.

  Garth took her arm. “Let’s sit on the edge.”

  “If I don’t have to dangle my feet in the water.”

  “No you don’t, but you’re wise to be cautious. Crocodiles are light sleepers. They’re as active at night as in the daytime.”

  “Oh, that’s very reassuring,” she answered in a skeptical tone.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

  Somehow she knew she was. Soon they were sitting on the wooden planks of the dock, legs dangling well above the slowly moving river. “I really appreciate your coming to my assistance tonight, Mr. Morgan. I don’t know what I would have done—”

  “Think nothing of it. Call me Garth.”

  “Do you really want me to? I mean, I appreciate that you’ve been wonderfully kind, but don’t think I’ve changed my mind because I haven’t.”

  He laughed as if sincerely amused. “Ah, Miss Tinsley, you still think I’m responsible—?”

  “Nothing has changed.” After all he’d done tonight to help her, and the others times, too, she hated to sound so unforgiving. “You can call me Letty if you like.”

  For a long moment, he remained silent. “Just so you know, Letty—and I will call you Letty—I was a good friend to Charles. I liked him. Helped him every way I could. That you should accuse me of cheating him is, to say the least, impertinent and highly insulting.”

  He’d spoken in a normal, almost pleasant, conversational tone, yet the unmistakable thread of hard anger in his voice made her want to bolt and run. Maybe she should ask forgiveness, say she’d been wrong. She’d avoid a lot of unpleasantness that way, but that would be the easy way out, and she wasn’t inclined to take it, even though sorely tempted. No wonder. She’d been brought up in a home where genteel manners ruled and a voice raised in anger seldom heard. Both her father and brother, the two men she’d known best in her life, were gentle souls, always willing to compromise. Neither would ever even dream of making demands. So naturally, she was accustomed to compromise, not controversy, and had no idea how to handle a strong, assertive man like Garth Morgan. He was another kind of man entirely, like no man she’d ever met. She wished she could avoid him, but obviously she couldn’t. What to do? She brought her hand up to press against the bodice of her dress. Yes, it was safe—the pouch she’d pinned inside that held all her money, the letter from Charles, the claim and the map. Just knowing they were there gave her strength. And thinking of Charles gave her strength, too. Maybe this powerful man could push others around but not her. “I’m sorry you feel as you do, Mr. Morgan. However, I’ve told you my suspicions, and I’m not backing down.”

  His eyebrows raised in surprise. No doubt he wasn’t accustomed to being defied. For a time he sat silent. Any moment now he’d escort her back to her hut, if he bothered to escort her at all. Maybe he’d just get up and leave. At last he spoke. “Let’s declare a truce.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On the subject of your brother, we shall agree to disagree. Meantime, since we’re thrust together in such close proximity, and likely will be for some time, we may as well be friends.”

  Amazing. She’d been sure he was highly annoyed, if not downright angry, but instead he wanted to compromise. “All right, just so you realize—”

  “That you still have your suspicions about Charles.” He turned to her and smiled. “I understand. Now, how about a change of subject?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. This man intrigued her, and she’d like that they not be enemies, if only for a little while. “Then let’s see… Why don’t you tell me about San Francisco? I’ve heard it’s an exciting place.”

  He gladly obliged, and soon was giving her a fascinating description of the early days of the Gold Rush when the masts of hundreds of abandoned ships filled San Francisco Bay like a forest. “From the captain down to the cabin boy, the crews jumped ship and took off for the gold fields.” He described how the city had grown from a small Spanish mission called Yerba Buena to the bustling boomtown it was today. “When I left this last time, the city had five hundred saloons, forty-six gambling houses, of which mine is one, and forty-eight houses of…
”

  “You can say ill repute. Did you think I was that naïve?”

  He laughed. “Of course not. There’s also a downside. San Francisco’s a dangerous place. The Gold Rush has attracted thieves, burglars, cutthroats, and worse. Our so-called law enforcement is so weak, we’ve had to form a vigilante committee.”

  “So the city is safe now?”

  “Safer, maybe. But a woman alone in San Francisco had better be careful.” He chuckled. “On second thought, you shouldn’t worry. If you can survive crossing the Isthmus, you can survive anything.”

  She remembered Elfreda. “I should get back now. Thanks for telling me about San Francisco. It sounds fascinating.”

  “Of course.” In one lithe motion, he arose and lifted her to her feet. They stood close. Something she hadn’t expected—a warm pull of attraction— passed between them, and suddenly she found herself vibrantly conscious of how close he was, and how very masculine he was, so much so that if he lifted his little finger, she might very well fall into his arms.

  He must have felt the pull, too. For what seemed an endless moment, they stood close, wrapped in a mutual warmth flowing between them, but he finally backed away and in a voice that sounded thick and slightly unsteady, remarked, “I’ll walk you back to your hut.”

  “Yes, please.” Was she crazy? What on earth had she been thinking? They started walking. She must ignore the insane moment they’d just had. It never happened. “I doubt I can sleep, what with scorpions dropping from above.”

  He gave an easy laugh, as if she had nothing in this world to worry about. “That little fellow is long gone. Try not to think about him and his friends. You need to get some sleep.” At her hut, he said, “Perhaps I’ll see you in Gorgona,” and walked away.

  Letty checked on Elfreda and found she was fine. She lay on the pallet again. Garth’s words of confidence had been a comfort. She would take his advice and put all thoughts of the scorpion and its friends out of her mind. That was easy compared to other thoughts swirling in her head, thoughts she never expected, like how she would have had a hard time resisting if Garth had taken her into his arms. He’d said perhaps he’d see her in Gorgona. If she had any sense, she would do her best to avoid him, but on the subject of Garth Morgan, did she have any sense? She wasn’t sure she did.

  Chapter 9

  By morning, Elfreda’s arm was only slightly swollen and the pain gone. After a breakfast of something indescribable in a pot—Letty didn’t dare ask what—they joined the milling crowd on the dock. Betsey was among them, struggling to load her employers’ luggage aboard their canoe while the gold seekers jostled around, eager to board their boats. “Look at how they can’t wait,” she declared. “The closer they get, the more anxious, all pushing and shoving, like they’ve got to get to California fast before the gold runs out.”

  Letty heartily agreed. These gold seekers could hardly contain themselves, so eager were they to reach the gold fields. Thank goodness for Betsey. With her unfailing sense of humor, she made the whole miserable trip easier to bear. As Letty climbed into the canoe, she looked for Garth, but his flatboat had already left. For the best. She’d waste no more time looking for him.

  Two days later, after another miserable night ashore, the canoe docked at the halfway point of Gorgona. As Letty, Betsey and Elfreda walked up the muddy street from the dock, they saw hundreds of people camped in tents on the hillsides above the village. Letty soon learned they were mostly gold seekers awaiting transportation to the coast. The town itself was a miserable affair with only a few frame buildings that were mostly hotels, and the usual huts made of canes and covered with long palm fronds. They were going to stay at the Hotel Grande and had just about reached the entrance when Betsey pointed to a young woman walking on the other side of the road. “Isn’t that Mary?”

  They stopped and crossed the road to where Honoria Leffington’s maid seemed to be walking aimlessly along. Her hair disheveled and her eyes red, she’d obviously been crying. Letty was the first to reach her. “What on earth is wrong?” She put her arm around Mary’s shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

  Mary shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  Betsey arrived. “What do you mean it’s nothing, Mary Hawes? I’ve never seen you this upset before. Now you tell us what’s wrong.”

  Mary stayed quiet, still shaking her head.

  Letty looked closely at her face. “What’s that red mark?”

  Her question opened a floodgate of tears. “She’s so mean,” Mary cried between sobs. “I couldn’t stand her anymore.”

  They soon had the whole story. Honoria Leffington had always been inconsiderate and demanding without the slightest regard for the needs of a mere servant. At first, Mary hadn’t minded because she was just happy to have a job. Then they undertook this journey, and from the moment they set foot on the Isthmus of Panama, Honoria had become a hellish employer, callous, nasty, and downright cruel. “She works me like a dog. She says cutting little things like how lazy I am, how slow, how fat and ugly.” Mary had to stop and wipe away more tears. “She never hit me before, but today she hauled off and slapped me. I’ll never go back. Never. I’ll drown myself in the river first.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Betsey cried with Letty and Elfreda chiming in with their own protests.

  Mary wrung her hands. “But what will I do? If I go back, she’ll hit me again, I know she will.”

  Letty spoke up. “She won’t. I’ll see that she doesn’t.” She meant what she said. Mary was a sweet, shy, generous girl. How dare that arrogant, selfish woman treat her that way?

  “But what can you do?” Mary asked. “You know how she is, thinking she’s always right and better than anyone else. If you try to talk to her, she won’t listen.”

  “You let me worry about that.” Letty wasn’t exactly sure what she’d say or do, but she absolutely would take some sort of action. Meanwhile, she must make this poor girl smile again. “Maybe I’ll snatch that awful hat right off Honoria’s conceited head and throw it to the crocodiles.”

  Almost instantly, a widening smile replaced Mary’s initial flinch of shock. She giggled. “Oh, that’s funny, Letty. Maybe you could throw Mrs. Leffington to the crocodiles along with the hat.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Good. Mary had gotten her sense of humor back. She wasn’t going to throw herself in the river after all. As for the crocodiles, from what Letty had seen of the horrible creatures, she wouldn’t wish a fate like that on anyone, not even Honoria Leffington.

  Letty had little experience with hotels, but when she and Elfreda checked into the Hotel Grande, she suspected that in all the world there couldn’t be a more atrocious accommodation than this shabby hotel room in Gorgona. The walls were only about seven feet high and didn’t reach the ceiling. As they entered, something scurried across the floor, she didn’t know what and didn’t want to know. A bright green lizard several inches long sprawled on one of the walls and didn’t move. The primitive furniture consisted of a rickety table and chairs and two beds that were more like wobbly cots of questionable cleanliness. Oh, well, she’d try to look at the bright side. “At least we’ve got a door this time.”

  Elfreda returned a grunt, but that was all. She’d recovered from the scorpion bite, but except for showing her concern over Mary, her sullen expression hadn’t changed, nor, Letty suspected, her low opinion of her employer. “I’ll get us unpacked,” she said and gave Letty the eye. “Are you going to talk to Mrs. Leffington?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Of course she hadn’t. Since she’d committed herself to helping Mary, she could think of nothing else. Try as she might, she couldn’t find words that would get the message across without offending the unreasonable woman. If she wasn’t careful, she’d bring down Honoria’s wrath upon hers and Mary’s heads, thus making the situation infinitely worse.

  “You can’t do it,” said Elfreda.

  “What do you mean?”

&nbs
p; Elfreda stopped unpacking long enough to look Letty in the eye. “That woman isn’t going to listen to you no matter what you say.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, but I’ve got to help Mary. What would you suggest?”

  “Ask Mr. Morgan. He’s responsible for her, isn’t he?”

  Why hadn’t she thought of it? Elfreda was right. A woman like Honoria would no more take advice from her than she would from one of those naked boatmen. But the formidable Garth Morgan? A different matter entirely. “You could be right.”

  “I know I’m right. He’s staying at this hotel, isn’t he? You could go to his room and talk to him right now.”

  “I can’t. A lady does not visit a gentleman in his hotel room.”

  Elfreda nailed her with her familiar gaze of contempt. “Ladies don’t stay in hotel rooms with lizards on the wall and mice running around either. And they don’t sleep with their clothes on and eat baked monkey with a stick.”

  “Hmm, you have a point. I believe you’re right, Elfreda.”

  “I know I’m right. You better go right now, before you lose your nerve.”

  Letty bristled. “What makes you think I’m afraid of him?”

  “I know you better than you think. You like Mr. Morgan, even if you don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to go to his hotel room, but you do want to go. So go. Whatever’s going to happen will happen, and there’s no way you can change it.”

  Why did Elfreda have to be so infuriatingly right? How could she know all that? But no use arguing. “I suppose the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get this over with.”

  “That’s wise.” Elfreda picked up a comb. “Let’s do something with your hair.”

  When Letty asked at the desk, she discovered Garth was staying in a room just down the hall from her own. Now, as she stood in the hallway raising her hand to knock, she was struck by a dozen reasons why she should forget the whole thing and make a fast retreat. He could well be highly insulted. The actions of Honoria Leffington were none of her business and how dare she interfere? But then… She had only to remember Mary’s distress and the red mark on her face to bring back her resolve. She took a deep breath and knocked.