Gold Rush Deluge, Book Two of the California Argonauts

Prologue

October 1848, New York

Dr. Mitchell Kersey brushed a piece of dead grass off his wool coat sleeve as he watched the two oilcloth-wrapped bundles sink under the still surface of the millpond. He tossed the key to his house into its murky depths. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Soon, the cold winter temperatures would ice over the millpond and bury it in deep snow, snow that would bury his cold secret. He felt a sense of satisfaction at a clean job well done, with a minimum of blood, mess, and fuss. However, his satisfaction was tinged with disappointment that he would never be able to share this particular accomplishment with anyone.

Nonetheless, he hummed an energetic tune, the Radetzky Marsch by Johann Strauss, as he walked to the crossroad where he would catch a hansom cab to New York City. It was marching music, a triumphant little tune, in direct correlation to his demeanor. He stepped sprightly, his head held high and his shoulders back, with the lightness that comes with the release of a heavy burden. The burden being his wife, holding him to this place where he had no future. He wanted to move to Alta California where he could make a name for himself instead of being just another doctor. But she had been afraid to leave her family. Kersey could not tolerate fear. He told her if she wouldn’t come with him, she and the baby could stay here.

And so it was.

In the morning, Kersey would embark on the newly commissioned steamship SS California bound for San Francisco. The SS California would take Kersey to Rio de Janeiro, through the Straits of Magellan, docking in Valparaiso and Panama to pick up more passengers before heading to the territory of Alta California. In October of 1848, Kersey had not yet heard of the California gold rush and the ensuing feverish migration to the Sierras. His reason for making an escape to the western edge of the continent was purely selfish. Once he put his life in Amherst behind him, he would begin a new life. A life unencumbered, a life in which he had only to look out for himself. A life in which his past did not matter, only the future he planned to create.

Chapter 1

January 7, 1850, Alta California

They had traveled five miles down the road when the left rear carriage wheel made a sickening, crushing sound, the sound of bones snapping in a bad fall. The carriage lurched catawampus in the muddy road. Lucinda flew sideways on the bench seat, and her delicate shoulder slammed into George’s more muscular one.

Are you hurt? George wrapped his arms around her and helped her sit upright.

Nothing your arms around me can’t fix. She would never grow tired of him holding her, no matter how old she grew. Lucinda leaned into him a second longer, enjoying his embrace, before she replied, I’m quite all right. Apparently, the carriage is not.

Amid a spate of curse words, George’s father, George Arnold Sr., jumped down from the front of the carriage and splashed to the rear wheel to examine the damage.

It's splintered completely through. We'll have to replace it, George Sr. said.

You did bring another wheel, I assume? George stepped out of the carriage and stood beside his father.

Lucinda watched from the carriage door and marveled at the similarities between father and son. They both stood with their hands on their hips in identical poses. They sighed and swiped their brows with the backs of their hands at exactly the same moment.

We’ll have to push her out of the pothole she’s in and block the rear axle before we can replace the wheel. George Jr. cupped his hand along the brim of his miner’s hat to block the fat raindrops as he looked for suitable materials to prop up the back of the carriage.

The senior Mr. Arnold climbed up and unpacked the spare parts from the roof of the carriage. Lucinda stepped to the ground, an uncomfortable feat in her heavy woolen dress. After months of enjoying the freedom of men's trousers, she knew it would be hard to become accustomed to women’s long, full skirts again. She tripped on her hem as she stepped across a muddy puddle, almost going down. In that moment, she vowed to create something more comfortable for women to wear as they worked. She would start a fashion for women’s trousers. If men could wear them, why not women?

The muddy clay had turned slick from the rains. She stepped carefully from one patch of dead grass to the next, climbing to the edge of a small hill that gave her a vista of the American River. It was wider and wilder than it had been in the fall. She watched the rushing, swirling, rain-swollen river. Muddy whitecaps crashed and broke at the rocky bank. She marveled at the fortitude of the argonauts crouched along its edge, panning for gold in spite of the dangerous conditions. At this time of year, the water was too cold for the miners to wade out to the center, so they hugged the banks like an army of ants.

She would miss them.

Leaving behind Diggers Flat and the friends she made was difficult. But she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to apprentice with George Arnold Sr. in his San Francisco apothecary shop and save the money she would need to go to medical school. She pulled out a small handkerchief Mrs. Henriod had embroidered for her and wiped the rain off her face. Mrs. Henriod had become like a mother to Lucinda. Leaving her was the hardest of all.

We're ready to roll! George Jr. called up the hillside to her. She saw him wave at her through the misty air, and she picked her way back down the hill, avoiding the rivulets of rainwater as they cascaded down the hill, carving miniature tributaries to the storm-swollen river.

I was savoring one last look at the river before we leave this place for good, she said as George helped her up into the carriage. He stepped in beside her and handed a lap quilt to her.

If you get cold, I’m here to keep you warm, he teased.

She snapped the corner of the quilt at him. Mind your manners, George Arnold. The fact that I think highly of you is no reason to take advantage of me.

George held his hat to his chest. I would never dream of taking advantage of the loveliest woman in Diggers Flat.

Almost the only woman. Lucinda smiled at him and tucked the quilt around her lap.

George's father clicked his tongue at the horses and the carriage started rolling again.

The faster we make it through this rainstorm, the better. Sacramento City has been known to flood when the rains come. George rapped his knuckles on the side of the carriage door. Knock on wood, if we move quickly, in two days we’ll be past the flood plain and almost to San Francisco.

You’re not in a hurry because of Helen, are you? The woman your father mentioned?

Lucinda thought back to the conversation just before they left Diggers Flat. George Sr. had mentioned someone named Helen as if she was promised to George. She wasn’t quite sure what George’s true feelings were toward Helen, or what obligation he might have toward her. Lucinda’s heart felt a physical ache at the thought of losing George. Her chest tightened up just thinking about Helen.

Lucinda peered around the topstitched edge of her bonnet brim, turning in her seat to get a better look at George's reaction. She could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, and his brows furrowed in a troubled expression.

Tell me, who is Helen? They may as well clear the air now rather than wait until they arrived in San Francisco.

George rubbed his brow. You'll find out soon enough, so I may as well tell you and prepare you.

The reins snapped. The carriage lurched forward; the horses picked up their pace.

Lucinda held her heart in check, not allowing herself to feel anything. She clasped her hands together, wound in a tight knot, holding on to her dignity and hope. She didn't have any claims on George, not officially. All of her expectations were her own creations, born of the bond of friendship they had forged in the fall and winter, working side by side to survive. Nothing had ever been made official. Nothing other than a close friendship. They had pretended to be cousins in Diggers Flat. Yet her feelings ran far deeper than friendship.

Why should I care if George has a woman waiting for him in San Francisco? It makes no difference to me. Lucinda tried to convince herself of her own lie. In fact, it will make my life so much easier if he does have someone else. Then I’ll have so much more time to study medicine and work on my own goals.

No amount of rationalizing could tame the feelings she held for him, her constant desire. The very night she'd met George, she fell under the spell of his charm, his chivalrous ways, his handsome smile. But she’d managed to keep her desires under control. If she were to become a doctor, she would be spending countless hours in studying and practice under the watchful eye of an experienced physician. She wouldn't have time to devote to a relationship with George.

Better that I tear him out of my heart now rather than wait until later, when the roots of my love will be deep enough to leave wounds that will never heal.

Even as the thought skipped through her mind, her heart didn't believe it.

George cleared his throat and picked a piece of mud off his trouser leg. You see, there's this family in San Francisco. McPhail is their name. We have dinner with them a couple of times a month.

Lucinda knew this, but she nodded. Go on.

George reached for her hands. Lucinda drew them away and tucked them into the folds of her woolen shawl, crossing her arms in front of her. A protective move.

He sighed. "We met them on the journey by ship to San Francisco. When we arrived, Mr. McPhail founded a lumber business. With so much building going on in San Francisco, there’s a constant demand for lumber.

He asked me to go into business with him, George continued, but I couldn’t see myself living a life working for someone else.

He smiled at Lucinda. Besides, if I had gone into the lumber business with him, I wouldn't have come to Diggers Flat and met you.

Her heart skipped a beat. She actually felt it skip a beat. She closed her eyes and willed it to stop.

Don’t toy with my emotions by changing the subject, George Arnold. If she let him lead the conversation, she might never find out what kind of hold this woman had on him. Avoidance was one of George’s many talents. You were going to tell me about Helen.

He shook his head and adjusted the brim of his hat. Right. I worked for Mr. McPhail for a time, selling lumber to the men arriving in San Francisco. He could hardly keep enough lumber available, there was so much building going on. It's been amazing to see the city grow from a small wharf town to a bustling city almost overnight. While I was working for Mr. McPhail, I became interested in investing in Alta California. This is the new world of today, Lucinda. George turned on the seat, fully facing her. He leaned close enough for her to feel his warm breath as he spoke. We're on the brink of a new state, perhaps even a new nation. I want to be a part of that. I want to develop land and lives in this new paradise. That’s why I came to the hills. To find enough gold to fuel my investments in people and capital.

Again, he was dancing around the subject at hand. And how does Helen fit into all this? Your dreams, your goals? She hoped he would say she didn’t. She hoped he would say only Lucinda could fulfill his dreams. That he wanted her by his side while he reached for his goals. For their goals.

A dark shadow fell over his eyes, and he looked away from her. Hope flickered for Lucinda. George’s eyes didn’t light up at the mention of Helen. Just the opposite. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

George scooted back into the bench seat and faced forward again. Helen is Mr. McPhail's daughter. She's quite talented at singing and dancing.

Lucinda’s flicker of hope winked out. All the while she thought George might have feelings for her, he was probably thinking of the singing, dancing, beautiful Helen. Meanwhile, Lucinda had turned into an ugly duckling in her muddy dress and short-cropped hair.

Lucinda drew her hands into fists under her shawl. Is she beautiful?

I always remember what Mama told my sisters, Tansy and Abigail, George said. Beauty is only skin deep. It's what lies within that matters.

My ma told me that every day, Lucinda agreed. That's why she encouraged me to follow my dreams. Beauty can only take one so far. Lucinda also realized that for some women, beauty could take them right into a well-placed marriage.

George sighed before going on, a barely visible puff of white mist coming from his mouth the only evidence of how troubling this conversation was to him. Mrs. McPhail and my mother got together and decided what a wonderful thing an alliance between our two families would be.

Sort of like a royal alliance? Lucinda asked.

Not quite, but something like that. It was more along the lines of gaining traction in the San Francisco social scene. They put it into Helen's head that we would make a wonderful couple. I've never proposed to her, or even led her to believe that I'm in any way interested in her, but she thinks we have an understanding.

Have you talked to her about it?

I’ve not led her on, if that’s what you mean. I’ve made no promises to Helen.

Nor to me.

Do other people think you’re promised to Helen?

God, I hope not. George made a discontented growl deep in his throat. I was hoping my absence might make her heart grow fonder for someone else.

Since your father brought her up when he found you in Diggers Flat, she probably didn’t find someone new.

Most likely she didn't, on account of the fact that most of the men fled San Francisco for the goldfields. Once Sam Brannan spread the word on the streets about gold in the Sierra Nevada, there was nary a man to be found in the city. Why, even the sailing ships turned into ghost ships. They sat anchored in the bay, unable to depart because the captains couldn’t muster a crew of men to sail them. Every able-bodied man fled to the hills. Including me.

That should slow down in time. The mining claims are growing scarcer by the week, and pretty soon, there won’t be any room left for more people.

Lucinda said a silent blessing for the mad rush to the hills. The influx of miners—some called it an invasion—had brought her more business. She had never imagined that grubstaking take-away meals for the miners could be so profitable. Why, she had surely made twice as much by feeding the men than they had made working a gold pan all day. It was probably even more than her father ever made from their farm. She was now well set financially, but working as an apprentice, she wouldn’t have much of an income. Money would go quickly with the high prices of goods and food. A pound of coffee could sell for as much as forty dollars.

Someday soon, the men will be back in San Francisco, George said. They'll grow tired of the hunt for gold, and they'll head back to the cities. Most of them don't have enough money to go home, so they'll need to stay and earn a living until they can afford passage back east. In the meantime, they'll need buildings and land.

So you'll be going back to work with Mr. McPhail? She practically whispered her worrisome question. If he went back to work in the lumber shop, Helen would have a reason to come in and see him every day. She might succeed at turning his head if she was perseverant enough.

On the other hand, with Lucinda working as an apprentice in the Arnold apothecary shop, she’d have the opportunity to see George every day. She’d be eating meals with him and his family every day. She would just have to be more persuasive than any other woman. Every day.

No, I won’t be going to work for McPhail. George shook his head. I'm ready to start my own business. I'm going to invest in the land. By investing in land and business, I can have a hand in growing this new country. That's where I'll make my fortune and my future.

Lucinda knew his plan was sound. George had a head for money, a knack for sensing good character, and a vision as strong as her own. Yes, he would make a great success of himself. The problem was she couldn't see how their two visions could be meshed into one. Again, she realized they were on divergent life paths. Hers was in medicine. His was in land. She hoped that somehow they could make it work.

Chapter 2

January 8, 1850

They were still a day’s ride from Sacramento City when the rain came down in a wall of water, forcing them to stop. It was dark as night, even