Like a River Glorious (32 page)

“I understand you blew up my mine,” he says for an opening sally.

“My uncle told me it was
his
mine,” I say. “And it collapsed in a bad storm.”

Mr. Jannison looks back and forth between us, eyes wide,
then beats a hasty retreat. Were I a betting woman, I'd lay odds he'll never invite me to dance again.

“With the help of a little gunpowder, they say,” Hardwick insists. I don't contradict him. Better for everyone to blame gunpowder than magic. “I could have you jailed for the destruction of my property. I've been considering it.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Jefferson mutters.

“I have a much better idea,” I say quickly, before Jefferson gets us in trouble.

Hardwick raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I understand my uncle still owed you four thousand dollars.”

“He did. But he'll be unable to pay. Apparently your sabotage has ruined him. Besides that, I'm not certain he's in his right mind anymore.”

I guess that means he survived Wilhelm's laudanum. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

“He was never in his right mind,” Tom says, and I'm so relieved that he has finally joined us. “Hiram Westfall is a thief and a murderer. I'm sorry you got taken in by such a wicked fellow.”

Hardwick glares. “And who are you?”

“Thomas Bigler, attorney, of Illinois College,” he says proudly. It's the first time I've heard him own up to being a real lawyer, and I can't help my smile.

“I see,” Hardwick says. “Well, I must say I'm not surprised to hear that. He seemed polished and intelligent when we met, and he claimed a great deal of mining experience. But he was in terrible shape when I fetched him.”

“You fetched him?” I glance around the ballroom, suddenly wary. Is he here? I had hoped never to see him again.

“Of course I fetched him. I figured he could work off his debt to me over time, but he is not fit for work.”

“Where is he?”

“Locked up on one of the prison ships, the
Stirling
, until I decide what to do with him.”

My stomach turns over. Hardwick won't be able to do things like that if California becomes a state; it's a crime in this country to lock someone up over a debt. My uncle deserves jail and worse, but not for that. It's badness upon badness upon badness.

But I can't help the relief that swells inside me at the thought of my uncle locked up. Maybe that makes me bad, too.

I'm silent for so long that Tom has to jump in. “We would like to make a deal with you, sir.”

Hardwick's gaze surveys the four of us—me in my almost-golden gown; Jefferson, whose skin is as sun burnished and Cherokee as ever; Tom in his smart but inexpensive suit; Henry in his finery. “I assume you've come to beg for clemency,” Hardwick says.

I laugh, loudly and genuinely, and several people on the floor below us turn to stare.

“Mr. Hardwick,” I say, “we've come to help you.”

His lips part with surprise.

“You can't imprison this young lady for destroying your mine,” Tom says. “You have no proof.”

“I have my word,” Hardwick says.

“Who would believe you?” Tom counters. “A sweet, small lass like this? Collapsing a whole mine?”

Hardwick's frown deepens.

“And you can't hold me responsible for my uncle's debt,” I add.

“It's true,” Tom says. “She was not in Hiram Westfall's custody when he incurred it. If anyone could take on the debt, it would be Westfall's heir, but he has named none that I know of, and as I'm sure you know, women cannot inherit.”

If women could inherit property, I'd still be in Georgia, working my family's homestead. Funny how the thing that made me flee my home will be the thing that saves me now.

Hardwick's gaze on me is frank and appraising. He is reconsidering his notions about me; I can see it in his eyes. After a long moment, he says, “Seems I partnered with the wrong Westfall.”

I waste no time pressing my advantage. “I'm prepared to pay my uncle's debt, anyway, if you agree to my conditions.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How will you come up with so much money? You expect to succeed where your uncle failed? Let me guess: You wish to reopen the mine. You think you can—”

Another laugh bubbles from my throat. “No, no, nothing like that. I already have the money, sir. California has been very good to me.”

He contemplates us for a long moment. Then, “Follow me. All of you.”

Hardwick leads us up the stairs and down a hallway of doors. He opens one and ushers us inside. It's one of the guest rooms, simply but cleanly furnished with a bed, a dressing table, and two oil lamps. The music of the orchestra and the buzz of conversation dim as he closes the door behind us.

Immediately, he turns to me and says, “What are your conditions?”

“Hiram Westfall must leave California, along with a man by the name of Frank Dilley.”

“Ah, yes, Westfall's foreman. He's dead.”

“Oh.” I had suspected, but I hadn't known for sure. “Just my uncle, then.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

“I don't much care,” I tell him. “Just ship him somewhere far away. I'm sure a smart man like you with resources can make it happen.”

He rubs his chin with one hand, considering me. “Hmm, maybe Australia. You will pay in advance?”

I almost say yes, but Tom jumps in. “Half now, half when we see a passenger manifest, independently witnessed, with Westfall's name.”

“Yes, half now,” I say.

“In addition,” Tom says, “we want your word as a gentleman and council member that when California becomes a state, you will use every means at your disposal to ensure that Glory is granted a proper town charter.”

Hardwick rubs at his chin. “I think I can manage that. Tell
me, Miss Westfall, how did you come up with so much? Dare I ask if you stole it from your uncle?”

“Well, I can speak for four of us in this room and say that we are not thieves.”

He actually smiles. “How
did
you come by it?”

“Hard work and charity,” I tell him. “Glory is a thriving, wonderful place brimming with people full of good will. They
gave
us the money.”

Now he seems genuinely surprised. “That's hardly what I've come to expect from miners.”

“Well, pardon my saying, sir, but maybe you ought to broaden your expectations.”

Tom steps in. “To be perfectly frank, California has been a somewhat lawless place this past year, but with statehood coming, that's going to change. People who've prospered from their hard work and sacrifice thus far—like our neighbors in Glory—will sacrifice even more for the guarantee that they can continue to prosper under the new laws.”

“But why come to me instead of going to the governor-elect?”

Tom smiles with tight lips. “I presume that's a rhetorical question.”

“Do we have a deal?” I ask impatiently.

“Self-interest rules us all,” Hardwick says. He turns back to me. “Yes, you have a deal, young lady. My man will draw up the papers tonight for you to sign.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Hardwick. We will
all
sign,” I say, indicating my friends. “In case you had any notion of later voiding the contract on account of its being signed by a woman.”

A slight widening of his eyes indicates I might have guessed right.

I spit into my palm and hold it out to him. “To our new arrangement,” I say.

After a moment's hesitation, he spits into his own palm and grasps mine. “To our new arrangement.”

I
t's not a complex agreement, so his attorney is able to draft something quickly. Jefferson, Tom, Henry, and I each read it over carefully and sign it, then Hardwick does the same. We insist the attorney scribe a second copy that we can take back to Glory and show around, and we hand Hardwick two thousand dollars as a down payment, and that's that.

We're done, and my friends and I are, finally, truly safe.

“Weather permitting,” Hardwick says as we head back downstairs, “there will be fireworks along the riverfront tonight. I encourage you to view them.”

We reach the dance floor. “Thank you, Mr. Hardwick. That sounds like just the thing.”

“I might pay a visit to Glory this spring,” he says. “Can't miss the opportunity to see such a blessed place full of earthen angels.”

His tone is mocking, but I choose to take his words at face value. “You would surely be welcome, sir,” I tell him.

From the corner of my eye, I see a throng of hopeful men approaching, full of purpose, each angling to reach me first. In a panic, I look to Jefferson. “Help?” I squeak out.

With that lightning grin I love so much, he grabs my hand and pulls me into the dancing fray. Jefferson is a terrible dancer, and so am I, and after a while I'm fairly sure the new boots the Major made for me are ruined from being stepped on so much. But it doesn't matter, because I'm so breathless with relief and laughter and the wonderful familiarity of being with my best friend in the whole world.

Someone taps Jefferson on the shoulder to cut in, and he is about to comply, but I grab his hand and pull him close. “I only want to dance with you tonight,” I say.

His smile disappears. As we dance and dance and dance, he stares down at me with so much hope in his eyes that my heart hurts.

The music stops, and the governor steps onto the stage and announces that everyone is invited to head toward the docks to see the fireworks. Jefferson's hand stays clasped in mine as we leave the ballroom, skirt the giant Christmas tree, and step into the night.

We follow everyone else across the street and between buildings, toward the river and its network of hasty, haphazard docks. “Jefferson,” I whisper, yanking on his arm. “Look. It's the
Stirling
.”

It's a schooner devoid of sails, anchored permanently just offshore. In the dark, it seems a great hulking beast, a leviathan waiting to leap out of the water.

“That's where your uncle is,” Jefferson says.

“Yes.” It's odd to be so close to him just now. Does he have a window? Could he look out and see me?

“Do you want to visit him before he leaves?” Jefferson asks. “I'm sure we can arrange it, if that's what you want.”

I stare at the ship. The water laps peacefully against its hull—along with the hulls of dozens of other ships that look abandoned and half salvaged for building materials.

“No. I told him I'd never speak to him again, and I meant it.” And I turn my back on the
Stirling
and Hiram Westfall and follow all the other ball attendees to a long dock lined with candles.

Violins take up a hymn, and I recognize it as the one Olive hums while she helps her ma serve miners, the same one Henry sang as Martin lay dying. Several people around us begin to sing along:

Like a river glorious, is God's perfect peace

Over all victorious, in its bright increase . . .

“We were victorious today,” Jefferson whispers in my ear.

I smile. “We were.”

Beside us, Tom has an arm around Henry as the two gaze toward the sky.

The first fireworks shoot across the night, reflecting sparks of color on the surface of the river. More and more shoot up, higher and higher, so that it seems we're surrounded by glittering light.

“This is what it's like, Jeff!” I say. “When I call the gold to me. Do you see? Isn't it fine?”

“I see.”

But I get the sense he's not looking at the sky at all.

“Lee—” he begins, but I interrupt.

“Don't ask me to marry you again,” I say. “Not even one more time.”

“I . . . Okay.” His voice is suddenly small.

“Because I'm going to ask you.”

His breath catches.

I turn to face him. “Remember when we left for Sacramento the first time? Before Dilley and his men found us? You told me I was in love with you.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I reckon you were right.”

“Oh, Lee.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, nuzzling my hair.

“So, is that a yes?” I say, though it comes out muffled against his chest.

“You haven't asked me anything yet.”

“Oh. Right.”

I step away just so I can take in his face—his black eyes that have so much kindness in them. His perfect mouth. The way his hair curls at the nape, just so. “Jefferson McCauley Kingfisher, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Finally his grin is back. “Even though I won't ever own property?”

“Especially because of that. Jeff, all this time I thought I was coming to California so I could finally have something of my own. But I had it all along. I had you. And now I have Jasper and Tom and Henry, Becky and her kids, the Major, Hampton, maybe even Mary. My home is not a place; it's people.”

He tips up my chin with a forefinger. “It's about blasted time you came to your fool senses,” he murmurs, then he bends down and kisses me, and it's better than fireworks, better even than sparkling gold.

Reluctantly I break away to say, “So is
that
a yes?”

“That's a hell yes.”

“What a relief. I was afraid that after everything I'd put you through, you'd say no.”

Jefferson laughs. “Leah, surely you know? You've been the only girl for me since we were five years old.”

Tom and Henry sidle over, and I can tell they're curious about what just happened, but neither Jefferson nor I offer them anything yet. I want to keep this moment precious, just between us, for a little longer.

The fireworks swell to a climactic finale, as the violins play “O Christmas Tree.” Then the lights and the music cease, and everyone begins to drift away. “Let's go, Golden Goddess,” Jefferson says. “Time to go home.”

I punch him in the shoulder. “Never call me that again.”