I am divided, in that I go to work; wondering, for our safety what we can-expect. This thriving, under-handed enterprise will eventually poison of us, all. Mrs. Calvin, long an advocate for good has succumb to illness… Her image-of-posterity, will not fade but gain her-benevolence; whom will-take as her closest, confidante and under-study… I am the likely, heir… But my children need my constant-care. In these times of fear, fierceness, and forbidden. I don’t know if I want to be put in such a position, though I could. I will not put my children, at stake. We have now a first-rate child governess, from London, England. She has had few-clients and has immense, training. I believe others will follow me, if I should chose, to use her-services.
Spain never, reached the province of Los Angeles due to reinforcements, from nearby. With U.S. funds, military-forces gathered and turned back, emboldened forces. After the battle of Britain; Spain’s choices where few. News says, it was a matter of funds, that bittersweet-lust for riches once horded in enslaved, natives’ riches gorging-royalty and abandoned-greeders; all, meeting a demise-seemingly, deserved. I and others, have fought for our family’s, friend’s and the forlorn to free the tight-grasp of miserliness and give back-bone to those who have offered their-lives in utter, abandon… And such imminent, sacrifice, as the political-thirst of France’s Revolt so earnestly begun; leading to bloodshed, unhinging the ways of so-many. France paid, dearly for its grant-of-restitution only to cause-further imbalance imposed great and good-men being robbed and imprisoned and eventually killed. Ultimately, some 74-years later I have seen scars left on simple-people. It seems adamancy and advantage-taking are two-edges to the same-sword…
…Evitably, honed; will return and intrinsically, value what is once given impetus to realize. What matters is willingness to impart-compassion, to all men un-giving, un-replete and un-reprising… Involved in so much testament the under-current; ill-concern men, die and suffer, for the ‘impelling’… That is why, the rush has touched my dearest-husband whose un-reverting, hands-pick away at ground pulling-dirt, aside; now for twelve-years, holding-to the oath which have entered men’s soul, so I bare-witness that I will fight the product, of his-soul. Make him happy, in holding-to the wealth of life in all-things and try-to understand the driven, power to retrieve my man from its clutches. Endeavor to press-on him, intentions to open his heart to over-turn dealings of moneyed-thought so easily, found. These dealings of mindless trapping us-all, in a web of a demise; energies transforming, intention into ‘lunacy‘…
So I will join, those who batten-down and heed-the-call to defeat the evil, un-escapable and imperil… Whose only, justice comes in faltering, failure and infamy. The unpleasant, power of predisposing, gratuity. America so rich, has so much to love; alights men’s heart in such cases, imposes destruction, emanates transgression to the lilting, devoid. So much the flame-of-bounty is the bounded-betrayal. Impressed-by the essence of incursion, so imploring. In my heart, great-wealth has great-duty. I hear all across this continent of a desirous-yearning for a home, space and livelihood; much to be plentiful and stature, to be girdled… In endowed, responsibility men must donate deep-device to uphold; over-coming the thwarts of pervasion easily, captioned. For the lilts-of-promise, carries the heavy-burden of striving, commitment and strain.
Many men, women and children have lost life-and-limb to encounter unbelievable, obstruction in the path-of-dispose… Where men can-not objectify-life, and forfeiture-rationality. In an even-understanding, men should avert impropriety, entrust-decency to give-work to good-men… And those with opportunity, should cherish, relish reside in purposeful, proposal. Adventurously, guided and granted gracing-men who can see the fortune of livelihood in providence, privilege and priority. I do not judge men in authorship but advance to ‘ode’, men-to, in my life-time, my children will be able-to make in respective of owing due-respect in understanding, opportunities and representation…
**~~
Dave Marshall, a young man with looks as my Will is to be hired to work on our land. A strong-man evidently, disciplined with blue-eyes, he understands Will’s needs in discovering, gold. He is Franco-German six-foot. Filling my husband’s needs, in work. I believe he fills an opening-of-devotion, to Will’s adamancy for Forty-nine-ing… I expect him to give my Will, break to involve him-in, time-for family concerns. As Patrice, Baumgartner and Zack, are a handful. He, I and our stewards, are over-whelmed. Milking cows, feeding, bathing and changing… Though, I enjoy our children I must spend my-efforts sewing and tailoring. Though, not exactly my choice. We need the cash. I pay for many of our needs, I keep us fed. Will does not know-this but I have saved-enough to buy our horses and second-wagon. He believe it was donated for my volunteer-efforts.
January 16, 1860
On October 12, a brush-fire began burning out of control, on land east of L.A. The dry Fall led to a 110,000 acre fire that destroyed farms and homes, alike. Somewhere in the south Sierras, land surveyors spotted it as it inflamed a thousand acres in one-hour. Animals and people alike rushed from their homes, leaving cinders and ash. Now, those displaced have trekked into-town, hungry with no place to live. Our crisis has imperiled what hand-outs we can barely, handle the weight of food, clothing and housing. The governor of California has sent in-supplies and aid yet, trickling-in as marauders of the Spanish and natives, force to thief. Many ’predators’, have begun raiding stage-coaches, robbing-outlanders and kidnapping-officials for gold-bunion… It has become so bad many travelers require escorts and guards.
With cooler-weather and fewer monies doled-out of our pockets; to help get these people-back on-their-feet. It has been punishment, enough that the act of nature devoured home and livelihood… They have sacrificed, everything we must-see that they at-least, receive compassion from-those, who have been blessed to not be touch. Mrs. Calvin upon her death, left a fund that has been held-in estate by-locals, in case of town emergency. Secretly, she left me as a part-executor… I was given so-much by her, in life as so many homeless, have benefited.
I will discharge some of its interest from State Bank trust to feed and build makeshift-quarters for those without housing; our highest businessmen has given several-thousand dollars, confidentially. Many in-confidence have offered me a loan to build myself a proper-store to sell clothing-apparel, supplies and cataloging from books, from back-east. Our town is no-longer a spot-on-the-map, of luck or greed; but living and residence.
Baumgartner, Zack and Pattie are becoming proper little-children. Pattie really reads, an abundance of books, draws excellent free-hand and Bau is a natural at-music he listens to his Dad’s Gaelic songs and follows all the church-hymns. The pastor has asked us to watch him, at-the-organ to learn the rhythm and words. Baby, Zack is extremely serious. He will not let me out of his sight. Involving himself with all-manner of things. His piercing green-eyes displays his intense attention-span… Bau’s blue-eyes are quite holding, I observed him when he doesn’t see, emulating his father and younger-brother when he is tired; has a loud-bellow… Should he cry I tell the care-taker to let him cry. He then becomes manageable. He has a lion’s heart. He will take-up his father’s side of the family. But he knows I am his-mother. He will-not rest, unless I put him to bed.
Patty and Bau attend school in a room-house out on the prairie. Our house, we bought was built for us by journey-man workers who lost money during the fever. Now it stands finally, built after six years. Here, are six rooms and a house for labor-men and tools. We have six cattle, four horses, chickens and goats. Our milk-cows May and Betsey provide-by the town’s store. I mend and care for clothing, attend a spindle for wool and cotton, and do my sewing. Will dries fish and meat taught him by Westerners learned from native-Indians back, on-the-trail. The school is run by a teacher who was a secretary, back East. A spinster, she spends her free-time growing vegetables and cultivating herbs, desired by local-folk.
She also is planning a n
ewspaper with one of the lawyers, trained in New York. Many local-people are trying to form a union for workers; ones with low-wages. Some want to build-homes to make a living. Yet low, pay for menial-labor keeps them from this. Our livery’s growing, into two; Jake Bartson and his son have paid for them. On both-ends of town. As the town’s districting, grows…
My Zack will be two, in October. He will be given a pony and my Will says he will save for him to go to college back-East as the railway is to reach the West coast in three-years… I wonder, my father, and now in a year, my mother, has left me with no-living parents. Without telling Will, I will explore any-avenue to see if it would be possible to meet my sister on-the-coast.
June 12, 1861
I and Will have been married sixteen years and I am very happy to my surprise, my sisters Henrietta and Patrice are coming to visit me in two months as written in three mail-grams invented by a French-man, now one of the most popular-correspondences. They have married, and have several-children, together. They’ve pooled funds, for a reunion. They say Americans back-East, are preparing for war. Between North and South we have not heard this, as news has been slow-to travel. They, left Lyons for Britain and will arrive in Boston Harbor and reach California by August 20. I am preparing a place in town-reserved for the best-tenants.
In this new-war, I wonder if America will be threatened out-West as Samuel Houston says there has been a debate-over differing economic and slavery of the Black-African and his freedom are at the center… He says blacks are like gold to a Southerner and the South cannot live without them. Our new President Abraham Lincoln, will dissolve slavery, forever. That Lincoln is a Kentucky-born gentleman, will not suffer these indignities.
If this is true, we will be at a loss as war between major American-states will shatter the very foundation of the Union. I have seen fewer and fewer, travelers west and ships are arriving from Europe and Canada as well as South-America. Huge store-ships, supplies and goods, normally harbored on the Eastern-seaboard travel to us to avoid impoundment. And stows, divvied-up for cheap-stakes. Some of the speculators have swarmed sea-ward to feed and pick-over goods at drastic-prices. The governing-council ignores them due-to the extreme-volume. The transfer-of such an immense inventory-goal will, be in large-supply and drive-down prices. Already, there has been bargains, unmatched. People from as far-away as Wyoming, purchased merchandise for military garrisons whose hardy, mules and soldiers were called to war-East. With the selling-work; cash and flourishing have brought-prosperity. Still, we are storing valuable-supplies, which we hope will not come to be needed any-time, soon. Our city-leaders have established a reservoir of goods which is kept in a large-still left by millers. Locked away for safe-keeping only guardians are allowed entrance.
As the city has grown, and those whom are punitive; the law has been vastly, and permanently established-Sheriffs, deputies and local-police as fixtures. Although with their assistance there has been lesser-violation. Yet the seedy-side of crooks, thieves and law-breakers, exist. Yet under-handedness, still occurs. The California-profiteering has installed capable, professions are duly trained to detest, exact and enforce dutiful, to-purpose. We hope no-serious problems will happen. The U.S. has promised, a continued life-line. I have written my sisters, to not come. I and my husband have taken precautions to insure our safety, freedom and welfare. With regular-telegraph and mail, by union-carriers and sufficient, investment to maintain couriers-East.
Information-relays come-in through the mercantile and business communication-lines. With-all the goings-on, many await messages of war, and of their family’s safety. In the correspondence of loved-ones, business concerns and local-concerns… Many have formed transmission-lines by telegraph, travel and message-carriers, done through money, friendship and cooperation. It has been rumored the South and West will be blocked-completely, from travel to maintain as much territory control by Confederates and prevents invasion. I hope this war ends soon, I do not want our country so beautiful and prosperous, be divided-by hateful and prejudice men. Men who own other human-beings. I am 38 now, my babies are growing-up fast I will not allow deliverance to the broken-country between hate and greed…
April 20, 1862
Dear Diary,
My sisters long for me to come and visit. War-lines of communication are becoming few and far between. Trickling down to major-notes and vital-reports. Some say if the war goes-on many will be forced to cut-off any connection to the East. As well my Will is becoming sick and less able to do his chores. He’s the head of the household. I keep him home. The physician says he needs to take awhile to recover. I believe he has put too much into gold-mining. His hopes and dreams have been a burden and now he has succumb to illness. A strong-diligent and devoted man whose drive and imagination of a future for those he loves, epitomizes all his-energies for the best. I must say those fading-dreams are growing-less practical and less rational. Though gold highly, prized has created a flow-in the cause of community-values. Though that ore of wealth grants, prosperity its wake has put-asunder many more than-it benefits. Now my injured and disposed Will, may never be the same. Our sons, Bau and Zack are eight and six now, following after their father… If anything our boys shall have the opportunity to be prosperous, strong and proud; this shall be their father’s and mother’s legacy.
September 13, 1864
Dear Diary,
I have just received good news in the form of a letter-gram. I had been cleaning with my Patrice our laundry, our men who so hardworking-to get dirty; and our daughter so proud, stewardly and devoted; she laughs and was keeping me informed of all her schoolwork, friends and their goings-on. When a well-dressed young-man quite studiously asked my name and introduced himself as a deliverer for Southern-Pacific Mail and Telegram gave a delightful introduction and gave me his letter. After a polite ‘thank you’, he rode off on his well-groomed horse which I thought were confiscated by the U.S. Calvary. I was not sure of what was in the letter, when I read-it from New York and Boston as dual-grams, no-doubt a new sophisticated-innovation. Patrice sat quietly, holding her breath, giggling. Yet she had little to be hesitant. And I expressed that. My sisters, now married and having families, had arranged a ship-ride to Boston as soon as the war was-over, which many were saying would-end in the coming-year as the Europeans have begun to take reservations as, of August.
Beatrice and Henrietta are to visit, with their husbands by January of ‘65;(by then they say the war, will be over.). They say the tailors back-east are inundated with work, and if I am willing they want me to take on several-thousand uniforms, clothing and apparel for the government and state-agencies; from the future residing-officeholders. It is contingent, on my say-so to give-out these work-grants to any, worthy tailors… As I am a former commerce-associate, and that I have previous-experience with the area’s work-planning. I am both-astounded and flabbergasted-by this great bestowal of power-and-reliance… I will-not take this lightly, or over-naively. With this enlistment I’ll be working-for years and they are within several tens of thousands of dollars… I will write them-back by end-of-the-week.
Yet, my husband will allow me to take-on this great-endowing. Frankly, it will make us rich and set-us on firm-ground, for life. I will explain it to-him. He is both a proud-man and a logical-one, I will not deny him the right-to in all, I think of. A big-dinner will be planned and the young-ones will be told to be on their best-behavior. Whatever his decision, I will be very-happy.
Diary, February 1866~
Now, as we approach our fourteenth year of marriage we will look at what we accomplished by our union of love and our achievement of opportunity not over-powered by intention, but overcome by stead-fast rule and vastly, founding… Though we’ve went on our own individual way; which through our own independence we were imparted and had given each of us value, worth and treasure. I believe each of us in our own way shared and given invaluable, treasure.
Inviting the trust, worth undeniable-wealth of family. I will never forget Mama, Papa, Beatrice, Henrietta and Patrice; my Will, our sons Zackary and Baumgartner and our only girl Sarah Patrice and the many people in my life whom have divided self-and-subsistence and have gone their own-way leaving as much in wealth, as could be provided… I will miss the once ‘joy’ of originality, the sorrow of unusual-struggle, and the sadness and joy-of-sharing and the lest-forgotten, trust to live-together…
~Genevieve Garcon Mc Masters
November 24, 1866
Dear Diary,
I have taken time-out to assess what has happen to me-in a year. The boys have been sent to a private-boarding school back East… They packed over the last days and the learning-contract specifies that they be before the greeting committee-by April first… They were trimmed, explained what their priorities should be and told that this will be good, for them. Me and Will and our gracious daughter Sarah live alone in a large-townhouse bought six months ago by the contract agreed-to between the two of us. The war ended this year, only as a matter of formality. The war-worn have appeared here, in California, and they look as if they had never seen such hell. I have come to learn that what the East has gone through is something that will not be forgotten for some-time. Though, we have money I am beginning to-realize the price was the ‘gore’ of a civil-war. I am not superstitious yet somehow the coincidence of the loss of the South and so many dead is a trade, beyond all sums.
Rush Page 5