What Once We Loved (53 page)

“Me, too,” she said. “Some call it being stubborn; I call it being faithful.” She noticed Seth smiling at her, felt her face flush with the warmth from his eyes.

The rain. Blasted rain. The creeks weren't swelled enough as it was. No, there had to be more rain. Zane had arrived on board a freighter, suffered the indignities of traveling with an illiterate laborer whose only virtue was hands strong enough to hold the horses and wagon on the treacherous trail. Zane had gotten over the Siskiyous, refreshed himself
at a simple cabin owned by Major Barron and his bride. He hadn't told the man what he thought of the matrimonial state. Let him discover the betrayals on his own. He'd continued enduring the rough ride of the wagon until Jacksonville, the sores on his back reminders of all Ruth had caused him.

The journey had tired him, and he'd rested, forcing himself to wait to accomplish his task. He rented a beat-up old buggy at the Jacksonville Livery, reserved it and a horse for the morning, then spent the night at the rooming house next to the Robinson Hotel. The miners caroused all evening at the Robinson, and Zane positioned himself with the “businessmen” at the boardinghouse nearby. He could no longer disappear into the crowds as he had in Shasta City, a man with a peg leg. So he comported himself as the distinguished gentleman he was, the powerful person he'd become. After all, he'd soon be a very wealthy individual.

Making things happen as he wished was like consuming whiskey: The more he drank, the thirstier he became.

So he had slept well this past night, taken a good breakfast. He'd arrived first to the table and was already eating when the others appeared. He nodded. No need to rise. That was as he'd planned. He'd waited until the others left, then rose with his special cane and The Stub and made his way out the door.

The sky drizzled on him. The canvas of the buggy he'd hired was as thin as old flannel. He could almost see the gray up through it. It was all they had, and he was advised he should be “happy for it.”

The horse at least hadn't shied away when he saw The Stub or his cane. He'd pulled himself into the carriage, trying not to seethe at having to leave the purple shay behind. At least the rain would give him reason to cover his legs to make his entrance as dramatic as he'd planned.

He knew where he headed. Jacob Orange, an attorney in town, had taken breakfast with him, and Zane had led him into a discussion of land and settlers. He'd had to listen to a litany of emigrants and showed
no emotion whatsoever when the man had talked of the horsewoman southeast of Jacksonville. Judging by his description, he'd ridden right by Ruths place on that stupid freighter.

The buggy wheel thumped through a hole in the road where someone had dug up a large rock but not bothered to fill it back in. The jar of it caused The Stub to jam against his thigh. How he hated this, the pain, the demand for adapting. He suffered both pitiful stares and frustration in achieving his goal. All because of Ruth.

As it happened, he didn't need to stop for directions. He came upon the horses grazing and just knew. He licked his lips, straightened himself, checked his pocket watch. Just after four. Plenty of time. Plenty of time to savor the impact of his visit.

The boys had put Carmine up; led Ewald to the pit. The mare had squealed and twisted her tail but shown no other signs of being ready, so they'd let her loose and took Ewald back to his pen. Mazy had stayed at the cabin, reading with Jessie. The window, frame and all, leaned against the wall, letting a breeze cool Lura's cookstove down.

Ruth and Matthew, Seth and Burke walked back from the garden area, talking to Naomi who held her baby at lier shoulder, patting the child's back.

“I fear Naomi's right,” Mazy said, stepping into the conversation as they came inside. “Expulsion of the Chinese isn't far away. The mining tax is supposed to be on all ore that's mined in California, but it's only enforced against them.”

“Esther's people have been making escapes. Sometimes they send folks back to Asia when they're well, give them a small stake to help their families back in China. But we can move more through the north,” Seth said. “If we can find more places for them. In orchards. As domestics. Cooks.”

“Jacksonville isn't the most welcoming of towns, at times,” Burke said. “Indians can tell you that.”

“That African family, the Matthises, over on Butte Creek, have been accepted,” Ruth said.

“One family that keeps to itself. Let's not kid ourselves. This won't be easy blending them in here.”

“What we need,” Mazy said, “is a way for them to get out and then disperse, like grass seed to the wind. Get them safe first. Then maybe we can help them land in places where the soil might be a little more inviting. Places like Portland or Seattle.”

“I saw a few Celestials in The Dalles,” Matthew said. “That place is growing.”

“Poverty Flat will be an early stopover,” Mazy said, aware of her planning voice. “But it being in California…well, a stopover may be all I can do. Maybe Nehemiah would work with us. We could get people to him on the coast, and he could put them on northbound ships.”

“How are you financing all this?” Burke asked.

Seth cleared his throat. “I won quite big one night in Sacramento. Lost something, too, but sometimes losing is just the beginning of winning.”

“Spoken like a true gambler,” Mazy said. Seth winked at her.

“Anyway, I won enough that I miss the thrill of trying. That and my life's moved on to wanting more than just momentary pleasure. Suzanne and I are prepared to finance as much as we can. Maybe even form a theater company so we have a reason to be doing things in the night without others asking questions. Costumes and travel and people coming and going have been a good cover for Esther. But we'd rather not put other folks' diggings at risk either, like we are, using the Sacramento Theater.”

“Everyone need own place,” Naomi said.

“Right,” Burke said. “Might not be a place tied to the land, though, but where your family is safe to live and love. Land matters, but not more than people.”

Mazy looked at Burke as though seeing him for the first time. Had he been eavesdropping on her life? These were the very sentiments she'd struggled with since her husband said he'd sold their Wisconsin farm.

Ruth stood to offer Jessie a cup of water. The girl drank heartily, and Ruth smiled. “Hey, I think you're getting stronger.”

They finished supper, and Ruth began the cleanup. “You go ahead out there,” she said. “Matthew can show you the spring up the ridge.” The boys jabbered about the silver storm, and Ruth watched out the open door as they all zigzagged up through the lush grass to Spring Ridge. Naomi and Lura trailed close behind.

“Too bad you're not feeling stronger, Jessie,” Ruth said. “We could join them. You've never even seen that spring up there yet.” She checked the black pot; the water wasn't boiling yet. “There's a rain slicker on the peg we could put on you if you want to try to stand and go on up.”

“It's safer in here,” she said.

“Safer,” Ruth repeated. “There's nothing to be frightened of, Jessie. I just can't figure where that comes from.” The girl had been surrounded by love and devotion, and it had simply not been enough. Ruth could see that. What Ruth could give would never be enough. Maybe what she planned to sacrifice would.

“They don't know yet, do they?” Lura said.

“Know what, Ma?” Matthew asked.

“Those two up there. Mazy and Burke Manes. That their lives are going to change.” She nodded toward the couple that walked separated from the rest, Mazy s bonnet bouncing off her back, hands clasped behind her. She strode, stride for stride with Burke. They stopped. And Burke stood and pointed, then turned in another direction, shook his head, pointed again. Mazy had laughed, the sound ringing across the meadow.

“By Burkes getting involved in this underground?” Matthew said.

“You can be dense as a grinding stone,” his mother said. “I don't know where you get that from.”

Matthew laughed.

She elbowed her son. “They're falling in love,” she said. “I can see it from here.” He watched them, heads bent together, talking, not looking at colts, not noticing a darkening sky that threatened rain. Mariah stood with her hands on her hips well in front of them. She'd caught up a bay filly and waited for Mazy and Burke to notice. Matthew could almost see that next she'd be stomping her foot. Mazy and Burke didn't seem to notice anything but each other.

“Women are supposed to know that sort ofthing,” Matthew said.

“Well, Mazy dont yet, you ask me,” Lura told him.

“No one has,” he told her, but he smiled.

He wished he'd waited for Ruth, helped her with those dishes. Or insisted she join them up here. Maybe if they'd all come, Jessie would have been encouraged to try too. He hadn't had much luck convincing Ruth that when she stayed with Jessie, gave in to her demands like that, he thought that put a cap to that girl's thinking that she wasn't safe by herself. When he tried saying the words though, they came out self-serving almost, as if he was just envious of Ruth's attention. That wasn't it at all. The child wasn't doing it on purpose. More like she was reliving something bad that happened and not just remembering. And Ruth's being with her all the time or making sure someone always was, might have been as frightening to the child as discovering she could be left alone and not be harmed. She'd been powerless when Zane Randolph took her. She hadn't yet discovered how to get that power back.

He'd try again, telling Ruth. She'd been distant of late, holding herself from him the way a sick horse stood off to the side. All this worry over the land payment, he was sure, and Jessie, too. He heard the gentle cadence of Naomi cooing to her child, his mother's low reply, then Mazy's lilting laugh at something Burke said. He'd ask Mazy to talk to Ruth. Sometimes women listened better when words came to them carried in a sister's loving voice.

Jessie opened her eyes wide, looking past Ruth, through the door. “What is it?” Ruth said, turning. She heard the sound of a buggy. “It's just a visitor, Jessie. Goodness. Does everything have to be frightening? Well be having more visitors. Youll have to get accustomed to that. Lura will sell her produce during harvesttime. There'll be Chinese coming here. Other travelers. And hopefully, people wanting to buy up a gelding or two and eventually, my dear, mules.” She smiled, dropped her nose to her daughter's, and rubbed it. “Come on. Laugh a little, wont you?” She didn't have much time left to help Jessie. She'd be gone before long.