The Gold Seekers (3 page)

He silenced Tom’s objections with an icy glance and turned to Luke.

“I confess I’m astonished that you were the one to stumble on this find, boy. But for once your clumsiness has been turned to good account, has it not? Now wipe that inane grin off your face and show me where you found the nuggets. There’s probably more gold there, and I must decide the best way to get it out. It may be just a random deposit, but if it’s in or near bedrock, we’ll have to sink a shaft and dig right into the hillside.”

Luke seethed with resentment at Morgan’s disparaging words, but a warning glance from Dan was sufficient to cause him to curb his tongue. He led the way in silence, and the others followed. Their early-morning search had revealed only two small nuggets that Luke had missed in his excitement, and Jasper Morgan, despite a minute inspection of the crevice where the manzanita had sunk its tenuous roots, found no more.

Nevertheless, he was optimistic, lecturing them on the geology of the gold-bearing region and reeling off technical terms as, with a small hammer he had sent Frankie to fetch from his saddlebag, he tapped at the rock and talked knowledgeably of lodes and seams and the upheaval of the Sierra millions of years before, when the earth’s interior had opened, spewing out its riches.

He was a great talker, Luke reflected, and the fact that most of his lecture was beyond his partners’ understanding did not appear to deter him. And he was unexpectedly deft and nimble, taking off his well-tailored jacket in order to climb up and down the bank in shirtsleeves and breeches, displaying more energy than he had since they had first come to Windy Gully.

He was not an old man, of course; Jasper Morgan could not be much more than forty—or forty-five, perhaps, at most. His hair was black, with only a powdering of gray at the temples, which added to his air of gentlemanly distinction,

and he was still what women would consider good-looking, Luke decided, studying him with more than usual care. His face was strong and unlined, the mouth straight beneath its heavy mustache, the skin darkly and healthily tanned. Yet there was something about him that … Luke shrugged, unable to put a name to it or even to find a plausible reason for his mistrust. Yet it was there, constantly nagging at him and—

Dan’s voice broke into his thoughts. “We’re to give up placer work in the creek bed, Luke, and drive a shaft into the bank, right below where you found those nuggets. The captain says there’s every chance of a rich seam in there—you heard him, didn’t you? We’ll need timber for props, which we’re to cut, and more tools, as well as blasting powder, which he’s going to bring in for us. He’s setting off now, soon as he’s had some coffee.”

He went into detail, but Luke scarcely heard him. Jasper Morgan had donned his jacket, he saw, and was heading back to the tent site, deep in conversation with Frankie and Tom.

“He’s not taking the nuggets, is he, Dan?” Luke asked, frowning. “Did he say he was?”

Dan shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I reckon he’ll leave ‘em with us. But he did say that it’ll be best if he takes the lot —nuggets and dust—to ‘Frisco in a week or two. The U.S. Mint’s paying twenty-two dollars an ounce, so we’d lose out if we take what they’re paying here or in Sacramento.”

“We’ll lose a lot more if he doesn’t come back,” Luke objected.

“He’ll come back,” his brother asserted. “He always has, hasn’t he? And there’s the girl, his daughter. It’s a rough trip to ‘Frisco, Luke; he won’t take her with him, so he’ll have to come back. Besides, we’ve gotten a partnership agreement, ain’t we? And Captain Morgan’s a gentleman. You want to learn to trust folk more, Luke boy, and that’s a fact. Come on.” He put an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “I’m dry, I don’t know about you. Let’s get us a cup o’ coffee.”

“All right,” Luke conceded reluctantly. “But seeing what I found, I’d like to take a bag of dust to the old folk. Pa could do with it, and Ma will be wondering how we’re getting along. I could be there and back before Morgan brings us the tools.”

“Ask Morgan, boy. Sounds reasonable enough to me.” Dan smiled down at him. “Aye, and not such a bad idea at that. You ask him.”

Luke did so, making his request with restrained politeness, but Jasper Morgan’s refusal was terse. “There’s much to be done whilst I’m gone, and I’ll not be gone more than three or four days. Besides, boy, I don’t want you blabbing your head off about our strike; we’ve got to keep quiet about it, understand?”

“I made the find,” Luke reminded him.

“And now you want to trade on it, eh?”

“No, sir, not that. And I know how to keep a still tongue in my head. I won’t blab.”

But Morgan was adamant. The find was a good one, but compared with what he expected the site to yield, it was a drop in the ocean.

“In any event,” he finished loftily, “your esteemed father has religious objections, has he not? Wants to pave streets and tile houses with gold, not put it to sound commercial use. You stay here and put your back into some tree felling, boy. This claim has cost me plenty, and I want to see a return for what I’ve spent. I shall not be gone long, as I told you.”

He was as good as his word. By noon on the third day he was there with the wagon, and once again he stripped to his shirtsleeves and went energetically about the task at hand. He left the hard work to his young partners, it was true, but he would not permit any of them to handle the gunpowder. That he was expert in its use Luke was forced to admit, and as Dan frequently remarked, the carefully controlled explosions he arranged saved them hours of backbreaking toil.

The shaft was through the rock in less than a week, and twenty feet into the hillside, with timber props installed at regular intervals, three days later. Morgan spent hours underground, with an oil lantern and his small geologist’s hammer. His reports were encouraging, although only a few lumps of gold-bearing ore and two more nuggets, weighing less than ten ounces, were unearthed. All the while he was unusually garrulous, although when the alcalde—the elected

chairman of the miners’ standing committee—appeared with two of his committee members from the camp at Thayer’s Bend to inquire as to the reason for the explosions, Morgan gave them short shrift.

The alcalde was a white-haired veteran named Ephraim Crocker, who had come to the diggings in the spring of 1848. He listened to Jasper Morgan’s curt explanation with unconcealed skepticism and then observed flatly, “You’re plumb crazy, Cap’n.”

“How I work my claim is my affair, Mr. Crocker,” Morgan returned coldly, cutting short the old man’s attempt to point out to him the disadvantages of tunneling into the hillside. “In any event, we are outside your jurisdiction here, I’ll thank you to remember.”

Crocker exchanged glances with his committeemen and shrugged his bowed shoulders.

“Have it your own way, mister. I was just tryin’ to offer a piece o’ friendly advice, that’s all. Up to you whether or not you take it. I been around the diggings over two years, an’ I learnt the hard way what works an’ what don’t. Alluvial gold’s easy dealt with, but gold-bearing quartz is another matter—has to be crushed, don’t it? And you ain’t got the tools nor the men to git it out, even supposin’ you find it.”

He nodded to his companions, and they fell into step with him and moved away before Jasper Morgan could find words with which to reply. But Crocker’s warning worried Luke, and that evening he took his brother aside with the intention of voicing his doubts, only to find that Dan now shared them.

“Maybe Morgan knows what he’s doing—I’ve always given him credit for that. But”—Dan’s expression was wary —“so does old Eph Crocker, that’s for sure.”

“I’d like to talk with Pa about it,” Luke said.

To his relief, his brother nodded. “Yeah, Luke boy, I reckon the time’s come when you should.”

“Morgan wouldn’t give me leave. He said there was too much work to be done.”

“And we’ve done it,” Dan returned, an edge to his voice. “We’ve done everything he’s asked of us. I’ve been thinking, Luke, these last few days, wondering what good we’re doing with this darned mine. We’ve nothing much to show for our

work, have we? Not even as much dust as we were getting from the rocker or Frankie got panning.”

He hesitated and then took a small buckskin bag of gold dust from the pocket of his coat. He passed it to Luke. “Set off home tonight, boy, and take this to Pa. It’s only a fraction of the value of them nuggets you found, so I reckon you’ve earned it. And you can talk to Pa, ask his counsel.”

“What’ll Morgan say,” Luke questioned anxiously, “when he finds out I’ve gone?”

“We’ll cover for you. He won’t find out. Anyway—” Again Dan hesitated, reddening a little. “Tom thinks he’s preparing to go to ‘Frisco. He had the new wagon out yesterday, when Tom went to the cabin for stores, and seemed like he was overhauling it, ready for a trip.”

“Did he say he was going?”

Dan shook his head. “Not for definite, no. But he mentioned the price the Mint’s paying for dust, and old Eph Crocker said the same when I asked him. Twenty-two dollars an ounce.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke boy, we’ve got to trust him,” Dan insisted, anticipating the question. “And like I told you, he won’t take his little girl with him. He said he wouldn’t. She’s his daughter; he must come back for her. And twenty-two dollars an ounce is a lot more than sixteen, ain’t it?”

It was, Luke had to concede, but he asked uneasily, “Dan, does Morgan have our gold—does he have all of it out at the cabin?”

Dan’s color deepened. “Yes, he does.”

“And you let him take it?”

“He said he wanted to weigh it, so’s he could account for it to us. In writing, Luke—he promised me he would put it in writing before he left here. I just kept that one bag back, for you to take to Pa.” Dan got to his feet. “If you’re going, you’d best start out pretty soon, boy. I’ll saddle your horse for you while you’re getting your gear together.”

“All right,” Luke agreed. He looked up into his brother’s honest, open face and said diffidently, “Dan, you’ve worked out what our strike is worth, haven’t you?”

“Only roughly, in my head.”

“Well, how much do you reckon?”

“You’d best not tell Pa,” Dan warned. “But roughly, if it brings twenty-two dollars an ounce, around ten thousand dollars. Half o’ that is Morgan’s, and the four of us divide the rest.” He grinned. “If we stick together and pool our shares, Luke boy, we could buy us a tidy spread.”

“Yeah, Dan, we could!” Luke’s heart lifted. It was a small fortune—a sum beyond his wildest dreams. A farm in the foothills, stocked with cattle and hogs—aye, and horses, too —he and Dan together. He could ask no more, and they would see Pa and Ma right, of course. Take land near them and build Pa the barn he had always hankered after and have a harmonium for Ma, shipped from the East. He flung his arms around his brother’s neck and hugged him. “I’d no idea it would be so much.”

“I’m only guessing,” Dan reminded him. “We don’t have scales. It could be less, or it could be a bit more. We’ll know for sure when Morgan puts it in writing.” He returned Luke’s hug and then pushed him away with a playful slap across the boy’s thin buttocks. “Off with you, boy, and get ready. Frankie’ll give you what grub you’ll need; I told him you’d probably be going in the next day or so. And you can take my mare; she’s a better ride than that pinto of yours, and Pa’ll be pleased to see she’s come to no harm.”

Luke’s preparations were soon completed, and the moon had risen by the time he had made his brief farewells. He swung himself onto the back of Dan’s bay mare, and with his blanket roll and small sack of provisions strapped to his saddle, he set off for home. The mining camp at Thayer’s Bend was in darkness as he rode down its rutted track, his passing setting a few dogs barking but arousing no one else, and he did not pause there.

He had a long way to go, he reminded himself, but he was glad to be going, and his spirits lightened with every mile. It would be great to see Ma and Pa again, great to tell Pa that he and Dan would soon be rich men and that they would be coming home for good the minute Jasper Morgan paid them their share and released them.

The mare trotted briskly along the shadowed track, picking her way carefully over the scars that countless wagon wheels had left in their wake, and Luke pursed his lips and whistled a cheerful little tune as he let her have her head.

Barely fourteen days since he had left the diggings, Luke found himself once more in sight of the huddle of tents and log cabins that constituted the Thayer’s Bend mining camp.

The visit home, by which he had set so much store, had lasted exactly a day, and he was returning from it chastened and more than a little rebellious. Religious scruples had again affected his father; the old man had refused the bag of gold dust, and during the waking hours of his brief stay Luke had been compelled to listen to a seemingly endless tirade of condemnation and reproach concerning his evil ways and the ungodliness of the search for riches in which he was engaged.

Two missionaries from Great Salt Lake City had called at the farm during his absence, his mother had confided wryly.

“Fine young fellers they were—mannerly and decent. But since they was here, your pa’s been having a real battle with his conscience. He feels now he shouldn’t never have let you and Dan go to the goldfields. You’ve gone against the will of God, both of you, he says, and he only wants you back here if you pay over the gold you’ve found to the church. D’you reckon you can do that, Luke?”

He had hated having to reject her suggestion, Luke recalled, feeling unmanly tears pricking at his eyes. Throughout the long ride back, his mother’s stricken face had haunted him, but he and Dan had worked too hard for their strike, he told himself, for either of them willingly to hand over the proceeds of their toil to a church to which they owed no real allegiance. True, they had been reared in the Mormon faith, but during the years their father had lapsed from its teachings, they, too, had lapsed by default, and their mother … He sighed. Ma had tried hard, for the old man’s sake, but her heart had never really been in it, for she was of Irish descent and had been brought up as a Catholic. And she certainly did not hold with polygamy… .