will kill you on the prairie. I’ve read about what it’s really like.”
“That’s why I’m going by steamship. I won’t have to buy a wagon and horses to pull it and all the supplies for such a long trip. There are no dangers on a steamship. It’ll be like when I first came to America except instead of a sailing ship I’ll go by steamship. So much better and so much faster.”
Thomas’ distant gaze alerted Harriet that she was losing him to his dream. “And how are you going to buy the ticket?” Her pale green eyes narrowed.
“You know your father offered to buy us a farm near his. I’m sure he will give me the money instead to go to California. I will even pay him back after I am rich. With interest.”
Harriet now wished that she had seconded her father’s offer, which had been made at her wedding. Instead she had succumbed to the lure of what New York offered.
“I think we should tell Father and Mother we have changed our minds and want a farm near them after all.” Even the harsh winters of upstate New York and the painful life as a farmer’s wife were preferable to an absent husband 3,000 miles away scrounging for gold with thousands of other fools. Thomas had been in favor of accepting his father-in-law’s offer on his wedding day two years ago. By then Thomas had already longed for an escape from his job and the crowded city.
No matter. That is all water under the bridge now. He continued to daydream of picking up gold nuggets from California’s rivers. This time there was no doubt about becoming wealthy. Even his pastor and the President had said as much. He had let his wife decide their fate once. Now it was his turn.
“No matter. It is too late. I already sent a telegram to your father. Here is his answer. I wasn’t going to show it to you until you agreed but since you are always so stubborn…” He handed the paper from his pocket to her. Her cheeks flushed as she read it:
Will finance your trip on one condition. Harriet and Helen must move here to be with us while you are gone. Reply soon.
Mr. Theodore Mills
“But Father does not have enough money for you.”
“I only asked for $1,000. The farm he wanted to buy us cost more than that. The steamship ticket is only $90. To get across the narrow part of Central America will take no more than $30 I’ve been told. And the last part from there to San Francisco should only be another $50 or so. I’ll have plenty of money left for food and supplies until I find enough gold to buy anything we want for the rest of our lives. If it makes you feel any better I’ve written and asked Rudolph to accompany me. I should hear back from him soon.”
“Rudolph!”
Harriet had witnessed the drunken best man dancing wildly at her wedding and then endured a visit from him last year. The tomfoolery that ignited between Rudolph and Thomas frightened her. Her hopes of Thomas at least returning home in one piece continued to fade away. With Rudolph at his side, Thomas would either die or fail, she feared. She was not sure which would be worse.
11
xxRudolph’s answer arrived a week later:
Dear Thomas:
I have already joined a company here in Elmira to travel to California for our share of the gold. When I asked if I could invite you to join our company I was told no. They say that people from New York City are too soft for such a journey. I know that is not true of you.
We leave sometime in spring and are making our final plans at our next meeting. From the newspaper stories I have read, it takes many months to get there. I pray we are not like the Donner Party by becoming cannibals and stuck in the mountains in winter. I plan to spend Christmas in Sacramento. Look for me at the hotel on Front Street. It was advertised in a Sacramento paper sent to our company.
Rudolph
p.s. I could not have gone by ship to the gold. Even thinking of the sea makes my stomach ache. When my wife objected to me going to California I told her that it she could get me to stand on a hill waiting for Jesus to return, then I should be able to do what I want to now. Why does Harriet also object to your getting rich? What is wrong with our wives? Don’t they know we are doing this for them?
Afflicted with the same gold fever that infected Thomas, Rudolph and dozens of others had formed a company in October 1848 in Elmira. For the first three months the 73 members met weekly to drill and form a plan. A set of much discussed by-laws was approved by the remaining 62 members in January 1849:
1. Each member will receive an equal share.
2. If a member dies after gold has been found his share up to that point in time will be used to bury him. All of his remaining share will be sent to any survivors he has named.
3. Any member who is found to be lazy or a coward can be voted out of the company by a majority vote. Such a member forfeits his share in total.
4. Any member who decides to leave the company after gold is found and before the company has dissolved will only receive a half-share of what has been found up to that point in time.
5. The company is not liable for any injuries, wounds, or death suffered by any member. All such occasions are the responsibility of the individual members and not the company.
They also decided to begin their trek from Elmira in the third week of April and travel by wagons to Pittsburgh and then take the horses and wagons by riverboats down the Ohio, Mississippi, and Missouri rivers. Independence, Missouri, the most popular starting point for wagon trains headed to Oregon and California, was also chosen. The committee formed to find a guide for their trek found only one candidate, a mountain man called Dan Beaverman. The company’s president introduced him at the next meeting.
“Men, this here is Dan Beaverman. He made a trip by wagon train to Oregon in 1845 and then trapped furs in the Rockies before returning to Elmira to visit his aging kin folks.”
“Beaverman? What kind of name is that? I heard tell you mountain men are part animal! Show us yer front teeth and beaver tail!” The member most given to heckling during meetings tested the candidate. More polite members told him to shut up.
A bearded, grizzled, buckskin clad man rose from his seat, removed his beaver skin hat and faced the crowd. “I don’t use my birth surname no more. Dan is my birth name. Beaverman is what the injuns calls me because I trapped so many beavers. Just so I don’t be wasting yer time about whether you wants me to take you to Californy let me tell you that there has to be three little changes made ‘fore I agrees to do it. First off you add this to yer by-laws: ‘Whatever the guide says goes.’ I ain’t about to git myself kilt because a bunch of green tenderfoots decides to do what’s not best. Second, your itinerary is all wrong. You need to be heading out of here in March instead of April. Otherwise you could end up like the Donner Party. Third, horses ain’t a good choice to pull wagons. They need feed in addition to the grass they eats. Feed weighs a lot. So they be pulling too much weight, which only makes them eat more feed. It’s what folks call a vicious circle. Now, back to when’s best for leaving. Believe me, boys. You’re better off facing a possible late winter while traveling here back East than facing a possible early winter trying to dig through snow twenty foot deep in the Sierras.” The weather-beaten man sat back down.
The would-be prospectors absorbed his words in silence until one yelled out. “I move we hire Mr. Beaverman before someone else does.”
A chorus of “I second the motion” filled the room. The vote was 60 in favor and two opposed. The newly elected guide rose again and thanked them.
“Let’s go to the saloon to celebrate and buy our guide a drink!” The thirstiest attendee was already at the door.
Most nodded in agreement. Others headed to the door only to be stopped by their new guide’s raspy voice and upraised arms.
“Hate to spoil your fun, boys, but we’re running out of time. March’ll be here in two months. We got to get ready and pronto.”
All returned to their seats.
“First off, you want to go by wagon or pack train? You know, by using oxen or mules to git all of you there in one piece.”
“
Which is faster?”
“Well, you’ll save a month using a pack train but it’s hard work. And mules cost three times as much as an ox. But with mules you save on the cost of a wagon. But then again you got to load up them mules every single morning and unload ‘em at night. And if any of you gits sick or hurt, you git left behind cause there’s no wagon to carry you in. If you’re lucky maybe some other wagon train might come along and take you aboard ‘fore a bushfish bites you, coyotes or wolves eats you, or injuns steal your clothes and boots and you freeze to death. Of course that might be better than going real slow like from what ails you.”
“What’s a bushfish?”
“A rattlesnake. Lots of them be crawling all over the place all along the trail. They be lowdown and sneaky. If you can hear their rattles a rattlin’ then it’s probably too late for you. Better say your prayers. They be good eating if’n you’re hungry but their bite has poison in it that’ll put you six feet under.”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“Sounds like you likes wagons better. Good choice. I knew you fellers were smarter than you looks, though sometimes I wonder. Now to get a wagon and livestock to pull it and supplies to put in it will run about $450 fer each of you.”
“But I can’t raise that much.”
“Don’t you worry yerself none. If you only packs what I tells you,