Conspiracies and Unresolved Consequences
Chapter 5
Morning Thursday 10th August 1876
Nick allowed Coco to run for a mile across the range before he eased the gelding down to a jog and then a walk. He may have only had twenty-six miles to travel to reach the Bellota ranch but it wasn't in his or his horse's best interest to run at a break neck speed to save time or get there faster. After all he could be out there hunting for Thomson for days if the boy wasn't at his cabin and Nick needed his horse fit and sound for a possible prolonged journey. Nick allowed Coco to pick his own way to the top of the ridge as he tried to make sense of the raw emotions coursing through his mind and body. The gallop across the range, while exhilarating and one he usually enjoyed, had this time done little to leave him content. Reaching the top of the ridge, he reined Coco to a stop and dismounted, loosening the girth and allowing the horse to pick at the few sparse stalks of dry grass at his feet. Nick removed one of the two canteens hanging from his saddle and took a healthy swallow before replacing the stopper and rehanging it on the saddle horn. He stared out across the expanse of Barkley range before him, with its rolling hills of yellowing grass and tree lined gullies. This section of the range had already been grazed out and the beef moved to greener pastures. Nick thought back to years past when he and his father would sit on their horses atop a ridge somewhere on the range and silently gaze out across the thousands of acres of Barkley lands. "One day Nick," his father would say, waving his arm at the expanse of green before them with its multi coloured dots moving slowly across the vista, "this will all be yours to nurture as you would a child and mould into your vision of the future."
Nick laughed as he thought about what his father's idea of nurturing a child, meant.
"I won't change a thing Father," Nick would reply.
"Yes you will Nick," and Tom would laugh. "Time is moving forward son, the west is expanding, more towns are springing up every day, more people are venturing into the interior and those people are going to need beef to eat, horses for transportation, wine to drink. You can't stand still Nick, you have to move with the times; something I'm not always good at doing."
"Well then we'll move forward together Father, you and I. We'll make this the greatest ranch in California – hell, all of America. Everybody will know the name Barkley and what it stands for."
Nick snorted, Yep he thought, everybody will know what the Barkley name stands for now once word gets out about what their father did twenty five years ago in Strawberry. "I don't think this is exactly the vision you had in mind for the family Father," Nick muttered as he caught up the reins and tightened the girth. Jarrod would call this procrastinating and he would be right. With a sigh, Nick remounted and started his horse down the ridge. Perhaps he could just camp out for a few days and then return to the ranch and say he couldn't find Thomson. So far only the family knew of their father's indiscretion so if he didn't bring Thomson to the ranch then the knowledge would stay within the family.
"And could you live with that truth Nick – live the rest of your life knowing you have another brother out there, wondering what it would have been like to have had him as a part of your life and yet never knowing?" The Jarrod voice of reason echoed in his head. "Damn you Father," Nick ground out as Coco snorted in reply.
Once down on the flats again Nick allowed Coco to pick up the pace to a jog. He planned on reaching the Bellota ranch early afternoon. That would give him enough time to look over the young bulls Bell had told him about when he and his mother stopped over after their return from Thomson's cabin. As the orange orb in the clear blue sky bore down on him, the miles fell behind and he left the Barkley range his thoughts turned to the events of six months ago.
It had been an unseasonably dry winter. Mother had an old friend in failing health in San Andreas and she wanted to visit with her one last time. Nick had agreed to escort her to San Andreas after she declared she would make the trip alone if she had to do so. Truth be told, it had been an enjoyable two day trip to San Andreas. They had stopped over at Bell's Bellota Ranch for the night and Bell had insisted on showing him several new horses he had just acquired from a young fella up in the foothills of the Sierras. Nick had nodded in agreement that they were mighty fine specimens and well broken in. He had inquired as to the man's name but Bell couldn't remember it off the top of his head, but would look it up for him.
He never did get the name of the seller from Bell but it was a pretty good bet it was Heath Thomson, his brother.
With his work on the ranch, Nick didn't always find enough time to spend with his mother. They talked about everything and nothing, or just enjoyed the silence of companionable travel. They had stayed overnight at the Bell ranch as it was the half way mark between Stockton and San Andreas. Then they had spent a week in San Andreas, making the return trip the day after the funeral of Mother's friend.
Nick slowed Coco to a walk.
The morning they left started out clear and sunny if a little on the chilly side, but unbeknown to them, a storm had blown in from high in the Sierras and was headed their way. They were already more than ten miles into the return journey when the first flurries of snow drifted down and the wind picked up. Deciding that they were only about six miles from Jenny Lind, they decided to press on and find accommodation until the storm blew itself out. But fortune wasn't with them; rounding a bend in the narrow pass they were traversing they had found their way blocked by several fallen trees. With the wind blowing a gale and the snow falling heavier, Nick decided they needed to find higher ground and hopefully a cave they could shelter in. Remembering a trail they had passed a half mile behind them that headed into the low foothills, they had turned the horses around and with the wind and snow blowing into their backs made for what they hoped would lead them to shelter.
A light touch on the rein brought Coco to a stop. Nick reached down and patted the sweaty neck before he lifted his canteen from his saddle and took a long swallow. He swiped his hat from his head and poured some of the water into it before leaning forward and offering a drink to his horse. With both their thirsts sated and the canteen again hanging from its strap off his saddle horn, Nick looked up to the clear blue sky. Six months ago he was heading into the Sierras in a raging snow storm looking for shelter and now he was heading back to the same destination, only this time in the blazing heat of late summer looking for his brother.
They had followed the narrow trail for several hours, rising steadily into the Sierras. The snow was still falling and the wind was still howling but luckily they were protected from the worst of it by the hills and dense tree line they were traversing. It was getting late and they needed to find shelter soon, even if it was only an outcrop of rocks. At least that and the slickers they were now wearing would give them some reprieve from the wind and he could use the tarps from their bedrolls to form a shelter under which they could huddle. They crested the top of another snow blown ridge, the trail rising steeply amongst the trees on one side and a sheer drop off on the other. Nick peered down into the wide treed valley below them. There were only a few snow drifts on the valley floor. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he watched as two horses emerged from the tree line and moved out onto the valley floor to graze. Moving his gaze further up the valley he spied what looked like a cabin nestled under a rock overhang. If there were horses and a cabin there had to be a path down to it and as they hadn't passed one on the way up, it had to be further up the trail. Pushing on again they continued riding higher into the Sierras. Maybe a half mile further on from where they had stopped, he found the trail; at least he hoped he had found the trail down to the valley and shelter below them. His mother had had little to say during the trek through the foothills other than to offer an encouraging smile of confidence each time he had turned around to check on her progress. Of course with the wind blowing as it was there wasn't much chance of carrying on any sort of meaningful conversation anyway. Turning down onto what was a surprisingly well-worn path, they let the two horses pick their way down. Once off the higher path, the wind dropped considerably and only the odd snowflake drifted down to find purchase in the brims of their hats. The trail down was steep, making the going slow but eventually they reached the valley floor. Drawing rein, they stopped to marvel at what was obviously a well-kept spread. Some five hundred yards from their position they could see the small cabin built into the side of the cliff, partially sheltered by the rock overhang. Smoke lazily drifted up from the chimney at the front of the cabin. Three sturdy corrals sat on the far side of the cabin, the back of each corral abutted the rocky walls of the towering cliff above them, and a dozen horses could be seen milling in the two farthest corrals.
Checking the position of the blazing sun in the cloudless sky, Nick decided, or rather his stomach decided by complaining loudly, that it was time for food. Nick headed over to the shade of a sparse cottonwood stand a quarter of a mile ahead. He wondered idly as he traversed the burnt brown landscape of summer if Thomson's valley would still be the verdant green of winter or whether it too had succumbed to the summer heat. Deciding to unsaddle Coco and let him cool down for a half hour, Nick hunkered down on a fallen tree trunk and unpacked the lunch of roast beef sandwiches, cookies and two apples Silas had prepared for him, washing it down with the last of the water in the canteen. Nick sighed, what was he supposed to say to Thomson? He didn't have Jarrod's command of the English language; he was blunt, often speaking before he thought, which generally ended up with him in a fistfight and the Counsellor having to bail him out of jail. He was a man of action and this situation he now found himself riding into required a good deal of tact and diplomacy, not his strong suit. Jarrod was always telling him to think before he acted, to think like Father and what he would have done in the same situation. Nick snorted, well that wouldn't be happening again; he didn't want to think about what his father would have done, in fact he didn't want to think about his father at all, unless it was to lay him out on the floor. This is precisely what his father would have done to him if his father had discovered he had left a woman to bear and raise a child out of wedlock and without support. Tom Barkley was a man of principles, who stood by his decisions even in the face of strong objection, always willing to take the side of the underdog, to seek justice where justice was needed. And it was those stubborn principles, principles that he had instilled in his family, that had ultimately led to his death at the hands of the railroad. And it was those same principles that were now driving Nick to honour their mother's wishes and find Heath Thomson. Nick pushed himself to his feet, he'd figure out what to say to Thomson when he found him. Grabbing his saddle blanket and saddle he re-saddled Coco and after offering the horse some water from his second canteen, Nick remounted and continued his journey. He still had a couple of hours travel to reach the Bell ranch.
Nick and Victoria steered their horses towards the cabin, hoping their presence would not be an unwanted intrusion. They stopped some fifteen feet in front of the cabin and Nick called out loudly to announce their arrival. They were both startled at the sudden drawled "You folks lost?" coming from the side of the cabin. Turning their heads they watched as a tall, young blond man, a few inches shorter than Nick, came around the corner carrying an armload of wood. Victoria gasped.
Nick shook his head, remembering the gasp from his mother at the sight of Thomson. At the time he had put it down to the man's sudden appearance but now he realized she knew who Heath Thomson was in those first few seconds of seeing him. And yet she had kept her own counsel for all these months until it drove her to her present situation.
"We were on our way back to Stockton from San Andreas when a storm blew in, dropped a couple of trees in the pass to Jenny Lind. We came up here looking for a cave to shelter in until it blows over and found your place instead."
The man stepped up onto the low porch and deposited the load of wood beside the door, before stepping back off the porch and looking up at the darkening sky. "I reckon you'd have a long cold wait in a cave for it to blow over. Be best if you come in and make yourselves comfortable. We haven't had a big storm this winter so we're overdue for one." The man shrugged, "Guess this is it. The name's Heath Thomson. There's a small lean-to around the back for your saddles and you'll find some grain there too for the horses. You can leave your horses in the empty corral; sorry I don't have a barn for them."
"Much obliged for your hospitality," Nick replied swinging out of the saddle and then turning to help his mother down. "I'm Nick Barkley and this is my mother Victoria Barkley." Nick introduced, offering his hand to Heath Thomson who accepted it without hesitation."
Nick sighed, thinking back to that handshake. Neither he nor Heath Thomson had any idea that each of them was shaking hands with his brother.
"Mister Barkley, Missus Barkley, pleased to meet you both. Stockton you said, are you the Stockton Barkleys?"
"Yes we are," Victoria replied cautiously. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No Ma'am," Heath replied with a lop-sided smile that made Victoria shake in shock for a moment. "I don't often get visitors up here and none as important as your family." Heath turned back towards the cabin, "It's not much, but it's warm and dry. Come in and I'll show you where you can put your things."
Nick untied his mother's bedroll and carpet bag from her saddle, handing them to her before collecting the trailing reins of her horse. "Go on in Mother, I'll see to the horses and be in in a few minutes," he said before leading both horses around the side of the cabin. The lean-to wasn't quite as small as Thomson had made out. Like the cabin it was partly built into the side of the cliff and seemed to consist of a cave stacked with firewood, plus a wooden construction that housed a forge and storage area. Nick nodded in appreciation at the thought that had gone in to the construction of this place. Obviously Thomson had taken a lot of time and care in making use of the natural formation of the cliff to build a comfortable home for himself. Nick found a bucket of brushes and hay wisps in a corner and the grain bin sitting under several empty wooden saddle racks fitted to the wall. After tending the two horses and releasing them into the corral, Nick collected their saddlebags and bedrolls and returned to the front of the cabin. He looked down the valley, noting a couple of small snow drifts starting to form and the two horses he had seen earlier making their way up to the cabin. His eyes widened in appreciation as he watched the huge bay stallion and the smaller black mare stop just out of arms reach in front of him. The bay snorted and Nick stepped back a pace only to hear a soft chuckle from behind him, that reminded him of someone but he couldn't remember who. "It's not the bay you have to watch out for," Heath drawled. "Gal there is a she devil if she gets her dander up or you try to hurt me."
Nick huffed, "You catch them?"
"Only him; had Gal for a few years now. She mightn't be big but she's got a huge heart and she's as sure footed as a mountain goat and that's something I need hunting horses in the hills. She's quick and savvy too; got me out of a few tight spots. She's the reason I have him." And Heath nodded towards the stallion. "Well, I best go feed these two, go on in and make yourself at home. I'm afraid we'll be bunking on the floor for the next few days, I gave Missus Barkley the bedroom."
Nick passed the marker proclaiming the Bellota Ranch. After John Bell married Mariana Janota he changed the name of the ranch from Bell to Bellota, combining both his and his wife's surnames. Nick wondered idly what the Barkley ranch would have sounded like if his father had done the same. Thomas Barkley and Victoria Rose Williams – Barkams or Willarkley, Nick snorted; they would be the laughing stock of the valley with a name like that. He rode into the yard of the ranch to be greeted by Bell's wife Mariana.
"Nick, what a lovely surprise; I didn't realize John was expecting you."
Nick dismounted, "Hello Mariana, John's not expecting me. I was passing through and thought I'd drop in and look at those bulls your husband keeps bragging about - maybe enjoy one your Mexican feasts for dinner."
Mariana laughed, "You always know when we are having Mexican for dinner. I'll inform Jose to set another place. John is out with the herd but I expect him home shortly. Why don't you take your horse over to the barn and then come into the house."
Nick nodded, "I'll do just that."
Despite a grand Mexican feast, good wine and the satisfaction of buying two prime bulls for the ranch Nick still found himself tossing and turning in the bed in the Bell guest room. John had bought another string of horses from Heath Thomson and was proclaiming them to be some of the finest in the land. That had been three months ago and Nick was hoping that Thomson would have another string ready for sale when he got there. That would be his excuse; after all he hadn't lied to Jarrod. He was short ten horses for the next army remount sale. He only needed to convince Thomson to sell them to him and then hire him to trail them back to the ranch with him and pick up the two bulls on the way. A plausible work offer so no excuse needed. After a fine breakfast and his food and water supplies replenished, Nick was back on the trail and headed for Jenny Lind, a little over an hour ride away. At least this morning he had some respite from the heat as the trail he was following wound through the tress that lined the Calaveras River.
His mother had retired to the bedroom when Nick returned to the cabin and he thought nothing of it, supposing that she was just tired from the trip up the trail. Heath had moved all the wood into the cabin to sit on the edge of the hearth. Nick looked around the well-kept interior. The main room consisted of a table and four chairs pushed against the far wall, a small dresser with a pile of plates and cups sitting on its top, a bear skin rug thrown on the floor in front of the fireplace and two wooden armchairs with cushions tied to the seats and backs of the chairs. There was no stove; instead a metal tripod frame had been set up in the fire place with a large pot suspended over the flames from a hook at the top of the frame. A coffee pot sat to one side of the flames and a frying pan on the other. A door was set into the interior wall beside the front window and Nick presumed that led to the bedroom. Another door was set into the back wall of the cabin and he guessed it led into the overhang under which the cabin was built.
Heath re-entered the cabin and stood in the door way, an amused expression on his face as he watched Nick survey the room. "Like I said, it ain't much, but it does me. Missus Barkley is in there," Heath pointed to the door beside the window and the outhouse is through the door at the back." Heath chuckled at the look from the tall rancher. "No sense in traipsing through the snow in winter."
Nick sighed heavily as he thought about the differences in accommodation that he and his brother resided in. 'His brother': when had he decided to start calling Thomson his brother? The more he thought about that trip six months ago, the more he recognised his mother's behaviour and the tell- tale signs of their father that Heath Thomson exhibited without even knowing it. In addition to the physical features that his mother immediately recognised on their first meeting, and to which he himself attested when he saw the picture of his father and uncle. But even before he knew the truth, Nick had to admit that he felt some familiarity with the blond horse hunter each time they were together – the lop-sided smile, the laugh, the way Heath held himself, moved, sat a horse. He could see it all now but at the time all the little tells were just niggly annoyances at the back of his mind.
Nick rode into the small township of Jenny Lind, mid-morning. As towns went, it wasn't much of a town anymore, just this side shy of a ghost town with only a few Chinese placer mines still dotted along the river bank. A lot of the establishments were now boarded up with the exception of the livery, general store, one saloon and barber shop still eking out a living from the passing trade, or the few citizens and ranches in the area. At the start of the Gold Rush, Jenny Lind, or Dry Diggins as it was known then, served as a weigh station for freighters and mule teams travelling between Stockton and the Southern Mines; then the Chinese moved in with their placer mines and the town grew and prospered for a few years. The few people out on the street - or rather dirt trail that ran through the middle of the town - stopped to look as Nick rode past. It wasn't going to take him long to discover if Thomson was here or not. Nick pulled up in front of the General Store and dismounted. After a quick word with the owner Nick was back out and remounting Coco. Thomson had been in the previous week for supplies and the store owner didn't expect to see him for another month or so; probably just before the end of fall and before the winter snows made the pass to San Andreas impassable.
Heath moved across to the fire and stirred the pot sitting over the flames. "Hope rabbit stew and dumplings are alright for dinner tonight? I wasn't exactly planning on visitors. I'll go out in the morning and hunt us up a buck for the week. Saw some sign this morning around the spring a couple miles from here."
"You expect us to be here that long?" Nick asked in surprise as he made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.
Heath straightened from tending his stew, "Well, like I said, we haven't had a big storm this year and by the feel of it, I reckon so. The trail you came up isn't too bad, but even it will be feet deep in snow by morning and the drifts make it hard to judge where the edge is; the bridge over the Calaveras won't be passable either until this blows itself out, not to mention the trees you said had fallen. Guess I'll ride back with you and help you clear a way through."
As Nick headed into the foothills of the Sierras that would lead him to the valley cabin, he thought he would keep an eye out for some grouse, or maybe a pheasant or a small deer. Hell, even a couple of rabbits. That rabbit stew Heath had cooked that first night hadn't been too bad. This time Thomson's unexpected guest would provide dinner.
They sat around the fire, nursing steaming cups of coffee as they listened to the wind howling through the trees on the cliffs above them. "That was a wonderful meal, thank you Mister Thomson. May I ask who taught you to cook?"
"It was nothing, Missus Barkley, sorry it was only rabbit. My Mama and my aunts, Hannah and Rachel taught me how to cook; they said if I was going to go traipsing through the mountains I best learn how to feed myself. Tomorrow I'll go and hunt us up something more substantial."
"Like some company?" Nick had asked.
"Sure, provided you take off those spurs. Otherwise you'll scare all the game clear across the Sierras."
"Is that a picture of you and your mother on the chest in the bedroom?"
"Yes Ma'am, it was taken at the county fair when I was five. It's the only picture I have of her. We never had much money but that year Mama saved enough to take me and we had that picture taken as a memory."
"It's a lovely memory, how old was your mother then?"
"Not rightly sure Ma'am; maybe about twenty five."
"Your mother doesn't live with you?"
Heath rose to stoke the fire, "No Ma'am, Mama and Aunt Rachel are both dead now. Well, we best turn in if we're going hunting in the morning."
Nick had been surprised at his mother's questioning of their host about his private life, or rather the man's mother, and now he understood why. With a grimace, he remembered he also had a few questions for the blond on their hunting trip, which procured a young buck that saw them all well fed for the week they were snow bound in the cabin.
"How long have you lived up here?" Nick had asked as they made their way on foot up a different trail to the one he and Victoria had traversed to the cabin.
"Couple of years on and off, found the valley on one of my horse hunting trips. The cabin was already there but it was pretty run down. I added the bedroom, and fireplace, replaced all the timbers. I guess it belonged to an old fur trapper at one time. Figured the valley would make a handy holding yard for the horses I caught, added the corrals last year; easier to break in the horses if they're contained."
Nick nodded in agreement. "Plenty of good grazing here; how long is the valley, and what about water?"
"Valley's about a mile long and there is a spring filled stream about half way down the valley. I dug a channel and small dam so there's always fresh water."
"Are you going to break in those horses while we're here?"
"I was going to start them, have to see how the weather holds up. The valley is sheltered and while we get a couple of feet of snow, it doesn't usually get so bad that I can't keep working. Besides I've got a contract for a half dozen head for a ranch over in Sonora."
Nick thought back to what John Bell had said about the horses he had purchased from a young fella up in the foothills of the Sierras. "You didn't by chance sell a couple of horses to a rancher by the name of John Bell did you?"
Heath thought for a minute. "Name rings a bell, why is there a problem?"
Nick shook his head. "Nope, we stopped there on our way up to San Andreas and John couldn't stop singing your praises about the horses he bought."
Heath nodded. "Glad to hear it," before holding up his hand, indicating they should stop. He gestured a head. Nick could just make out the shape of a young buck moving through the trees. He watched silently as Heath raised his rifle, sighted carefully and waited for the buck to move into the opening between two large oaks. Nick couldn't help the little jump when one shot echoed through the trees, sending the birds roosting in the branches screeching into the dark rolling clouds and their target dropping to the ground. Working quickly the two men butchered the buck, but Nick was surprised when Heath only packed enough of the meat to last them for a couple of weeks. The rest he spread out among the trees. "We aren't the only ones that need to eat and this storm is going to make it hard for some of the animals to hunt. Besides if I leave this here, hopefully they'll leave my horses alone."
They had returned to the cabin and Mother had taken over the cooking duties for their stay. He had spent hours watching Thomson 'gentle'the horses as he called it. Even now Nick marvelled at how well the horses had adapted to their training. Yes, Heath Thomson would be an asset to the ranch's horse breeding and breaking activities. Nick sighed; this trip wasn't about hiring a new hand - no; this trip was about bringing a new brother into the Barkley fold. Nick had been content that week in the foothills to watch and work alongside Thomson as he prepared the horses for the trip to Sonora. Together they repaired harness, replaced corral posts when an overly headstrong horse made a last ditch attempt to escape its destiny before succumbing to the blond's gentling techniques. They had even made and hung a door on the lean-to so that Heath could lock up his stores from some of the more opportunistic scavengers of the area before he left for Sonora and his planned trip to Strawberry after delivering the horses. Strawberry!
"Do you have any brothers or sisters Heath?" Victoria asked as they enjoyed a roast leg of deer with potatoes and gravy and wild greens.
"No Ma'am, it was just me, my mama and my two aunts. They aren't really my aunts. They were friends of my mama's and they helped to raise me." Heath poured coffee into the cups and replaced the coffee pot in the embers of the fire to keep it warm.
"Where did you grow up?"
"In a mining town called Strawberry. There isn't much of it left now, not since the mine closed down. My Aunt Hannah still lives there, in mama's house. I go every few months and check on her, do any repairs and take in supplies. I tried to talk her into moving to Pine Crest but she refuses."
"My husband, Thomas Barkley, bought a share in the Strawberry mine in 1850, I believe. He sold it about six years later."
"Yes Ma'am," Heath replied with some bitterness.
"What about your father Heath, was he a miner?"
Heath shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know who my father was ma'am. He left before I was born, but ma'am I don't want you to think that my mama was a wanton woman. She wasn't ma'am, she was a good, kind hearted, god fearing woman and the best mama a boy could want." Heath rose suddenly, "I best go check on the horses before I turn in. Good night ma'am."
Nick remembered asking his mother what she thought she was doing asking all those personal questions and his mother's reply. "Just getting to know our host, Nick." Nick harrumphed; he now realized she had been trying to ascertain if Heath knew who his father was and who they were in relation to him. There had been a few other conversations over the dinner table, one of the most telling been the night Heath had told them about working in the mine as a child, after Tom Barkley had sold it.
"You like to read Heath? I saw a copy of The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County and A Christmas Carol on your chest."
"Yes Ma'am, my Aunt Rachel gave me those books. She was a school teacher and she and my mama taught me my letters and numbers."
"You didn't go to school Heath? I thought there was a school in Strawberry."
"There was Ma'am but not for the likes of me."
"I don't understand Heath?"
Nick snorted; his mother understood only too well what Heath meant, as did he.
Heath sighed, "The god fearing ladies of the town didn't cotton to their children playing with the town bastard ma'am. That's what they called me cause I had no daddy. In their eyes I wasn't fit to clean the ground they walked on, so after one too many fights my mama and Aunt Rachel decided to home school me." Heath paused, "That is when I wasn't working in the mine or at the livery stable."
Nick remembered his reaction to that last piece of news. "My father would never have allowed a child to work in a mine."
Heath had looked squarely at Nick, "Your papa didn't own the mine then, he'd sold it and us out. Mama worked hard cleaning and mending for the miners, but there was never enough money and the new owners hiked up the price of goods so much we were lucky to afford a loaf of bread some days. I had to go work in the mine as a charge boy, cause I was small for my age and could fit in tight spaces and the livery stable a couple nights a week to earn some extra money for food. If'n there was a mine cave in or not enough work at the livery, I used to go and hunt for food. Mister Jensen at the livery was good to me. He taught me how to shoot and gave me an old single shot rifle. I used to hunt squirrel, jackrabbit, if I was real lucky a young buck maybe, and I would go fishing also."
Heath had stood then and left the cabin without another word. It was several hours later before he returned and lay down in his bedroll. The next morning Heath had looked sheepishly at Victoria, "I'm sorry ma'am for my outburst last night." Heath sighed, "My mama and her friends always taught me not to be rude to guests, wanted, unwanted or unexpected."
Nick stopped on the ridge over-looking the valley. Would he be a wanted if unexpected guest, or an unwanted guest this time, he wondered.
Authors notes
San Andreas to Stockton – 48 miles approx. – a horse walks approximately 4 miles per hour.
The half way mark between Stockton and San Andrea is Bellota (1890) approx. 26 miles. The 1895 census showed there were 68 people living in Bellota. John Bell and the Bellota ranch are fictitious, just my imagination.
Jenny Lind is 30 miles from Stockton on the road leading to the Southern Mines and is situated on the north bank of the Calaveras River and was originally called Dry Diggins at the start of the Gold Rush. It was a way station for freighters and mule teams. Placer mining prospered for a short time with the area's large Chinese populations. It was renamed Jenny Lind in 1850 partly in honour of the pioneered Dr John Y Lind and also for the famous Swedish singer Jenny Lind who never actually set foot in the town. Only a few dilapidated buildings remain as a reminder of the past.
Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol in 1843
Mark Twain's story "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" was published in 1865, based on a story that he heard at Angels Hotel in Angels Camp, California, where he had spent some time as a miner.