“Aha!” Melancthon interjects. “That’s what you needed that bilge hose for. They’re heavy when full, but easy to move.”
“We were going fill the hose with gold coins, and then store them all in the Charlotte in a barrel,” the Major says. “But it’s a good thing we didn’t. After he was arrested, Frank Dilley told the sheriff that we stole the money, and Purcell came and searched the Charlotte from stem to stern yesterday. If we’d had a single coin hidden aboard the ship, he would have found it.”
“I still don’t understand how you got the money out of the bank,” Jasper says.
“That was me, too,” Jefferson says. “The bank has a tile roof. I climbed up, removed a few tiles, and slipped directly into the cage. Took me a minute to figure out which key opened the safe. Then I stuffed the gold coins into the bilge hose.”
“Which was why Major Craven had me line it with cotton padding,” Melancthon says, running a hand through his whisk-broom hair. “To muffle the sound.”
“Exactly,” the Major says.
“My job was to talk to the guards,” I say. “Keep them from walking around the back of the building or paying too much attention to any odd noises.” I helped in another way, too, by giving all that gold a little push, making the bilge hose easier to handle. But I’m not sure I should say so aloud. Melancthon doesn’t need to know all our secrets.
“I thought for sure they were going to catch me when they opened the door,” Jefferson says. “There was just enough time to close the safe door and crouch behind it. If it hadn’t been cloudy and dark, he might have noticed the hole in the roof.” He looks at me. “You did a great job distracting them.”
I shrug. “Those fellows weren’t too bad.”
“Once the safe was empty,” Jefferson continues. “I climbed back up to the roof, holding one end of the hose. I pulled it over the edge and loaded it onto the wagon. Then I replaced the roof tiles, and it was like I’d never been there.”
Mary is all grins. “The next day, I paid Hardwick’s Chinese workers—the ones who moved all his safes—to pretend that one safe was just as heavy as the others, even though it was empty.”
“He never suspected a thing,” Tom says. “I never suspected a thing.”
“So, back to Jim,” I say. “Once he was shot, Mary recognized an opportunity. A way to hide all the gold we planned to steal.”
Jasper says, “So that’s why she told me to keep Jim hidden.”
“She made all the arrangements,” Henry adds. “She organized everything.”
“I came to San Francisco alone,” Mary says. “So I didn’t think Hardwick would realize I was part of the group. I had to keep out of sight around the Charlotte, though, sneaking in and out through the hold. I was afraid Frank Dilley would recognize me from Hiram’s Gulch.”
“It worked out,” I say. “Mary was able to get things done without Hardwick ever catching wind.”
Becky stares at Mary. “I thought . . . I thought you were avoiding me.”
Mary stares back, not answering.
“So that’s why we’re digging,” Jasper says, attacking the hole with renewed enthusiasm.
“Because you did bury something here,” Hampton agrees. “But it’s not Jim.”
A sharp crack sounds. Hampton and Jasper use their shovels to scrape dirt away, revealing a muddy wooden casket.
“Go ahead, Hampton,” I say. “You do the honors.”
He shoves the tip of his shovel beneath the lid and levers it off.
We all crowd around and peer down into the hole. About four thousand coins sit piled inside the casket, all fifty-dollar pieces. There’s a moment of silence, as if someone has died and we’re all showing respect. It’s not inappropriate, I think. People probably did die to collect this gold. The Indians who had their land stolen. The forty-niners who died on the wagon trail west. The miners who worked themselves sick. The people Hardwick kicked out of their homes to live in the cold, wet San Francisco streets.
Jim gives a low, appreciative whistle.
“Hampton, I’m so sorry we lied to you,” I say. “It was meant to protect Jim from any further reprisals, and we weren’t sure how to get the real information to you.”
“I have to admit,” Hampton says, “after getting my freedom papers, then having my freedom taken away again . . . more bad news was awful hard to take in.” He takes a good long gander at all that gold. “But it also gave you a casket and a reason to bury it,” he adds graciously.
Becky says, “It comes to about three hundred and thirty coins per portion. We’d better get them counted out quick.”
“Already on it,” Jefferson says. He climbs back into the hole with a dozen bags, and he and Hampton start counting out the coins.
“So what happened at the party last night?” Jasper asks. “You know, the one I missed so Mary could go in my place?” He says it with mock effrontery, as if he was the type of fellow to actually care about a party.
“All I know is that I was supposed to debauch Ichabod yesterday,” Tom says. “If anyone was going to sense something amiss, it was going to be him. I was successful, and I hesitate to share all the details, although I confess that we opened the first bottle of wine before lunch. He’s a decent enough fellow. I was glad to hear he escaped the sinking of the Argos.”
“At the party, we had to get inside one of the safes and frame Frank Dilley,” I say. “But I don’t know this part. The Major took care of that.” I turn to him. “Please tell me how you did it!”
“We needed to use those copied keys again,” the Major says. “So many people are abandoning steady employment and running for the golden hills that the caterers were understaffed. They were thrilled when Mary and I volunteered to help out.”
“It took a long time for us to figure out which room was Frank’s,” Mary says.
“Almost too long,” the Major says. “By the way, this crutch is noisy as all get-out. I stepped on rugs whenever possible, but I don’t mind saying that getting in and out of Frank’s room is one of the most hair-raising things I’ve ever done.”
Becky pats his arm. “You’re a brave man.”
“So we found the safes first. We opened one and put Lee’s little bundle inside, then I marked it with a bit of chalk so the dockhands would know which one to put in the center of the hold.”
“Huh?” says Melancthon. “‘Little bundle?’”
“Just a keepsake,” I hurry to say. “A locket I carried west with me. It belonged to my mother. I wanted to give it a ceremonial burial at sea, in her honor.”
Henry gives me an admiring look, and Mary coughs to cover a laugh.
“Then we found Frank’s room,” the Major continues, “and we left the key there, along with some other incriminating evidence.”
“Where did you hide the duplicate key?” Tom asks. “Everyone at the party was searched closely, and staff was searched twice.”
The Major hands the baby to Becky and sits down on the edge of the wagon. He pops open a small door on his wooden leg to reveal a secret compartment within. “I carried it here, along with everything else. They searched my pockets, and the seams of my clothes, but they didn’t even want to touch my wooden leg.”
“You’re so clever,” Becky says.
“I manage.”
Jefferson and Hampton finish dividing the last of the coins. They stack the bags beside the grave and climb out of the hole. Jeff offers the first bag to Hampton. “For all your trouble,” he says.
“I’ve had a lot more trouble than this in my life,” Hampton says. “But I’ll take some of that gold, I’m not ashamed to say.”
Jefferson hands the second bag to Tom.
“As an officer of the court, who may have to testify under oath at some point in the future, I cannot in good conscience accept stolen property.” Jefferson starts to withdraw the bag, but Tom grabs it. “I can, however, with a clear heart, give it to someone who should never have been treated as property in the first place, as a firs
t step toward making things right. So I shall hold it in trust for Adelaide.”
Hampton beams. “Any word of her while I was gone?” he says.
Tom’s smile is sympathetic. “You know it’s too early, Hampton. It takes months for these things to happen.”
“Well, this ought to help me open that general store,” Jim says, taking his bag.
Jasper says it’ll help him start his own practice and provide services to the people of California who can’t afford a doctor. Mary, Melancthon, the Major, and Henry all accept their shares.
When it’s Becky’s turn, she opens the bag, removes a few coins, and then hands it back. Holding up the coins, she says, “This is reimbursement from Mr. Hardwick, to repay the cost of recovering my house at auction. But otherwise, I don’t feel comfortable stealing from anyone, not even a man as terrible as he was. He’s been ruined, and that’s enough for me.”
Jefferson hesitates, glancing at me uncertainly.
The Major reaches out and grabs the bag. “I’ll take it and invest it for the children. We’ll plant it like a seed and let it grow, so that they have something to inherit when they’re older.”
“Wally!”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. My old man left me nothing but a bunch of debt and some bad memories. I figure these little ones already have good memories of their father, all except for the babe here. But there’s no reason they can’t have a little money. It’s what your husband would do if he was still here.”
“I’m pretty sure he would gamble it all away,” Becky says.
I’m pretty sure she’s right.
“So, I think I understand the whole story now,” Jasper says. “Except for one thing. How did you steal all those jewels? The pocket watches and gold coins?”
“It was us,” says a sulky voice.
“Sonia!” She has arrived with Billy, which I expected, and with Helena, who I wasn’t sure would show up.
Jefferson, Hampton, and Jasper clamber out of the hole, and they work fast to shovel all the dirt back in. Everyone gives Helena a wide berth, even though she’s here at my invitation.
“These are our new friends, Sonia and Billy,” I say. “They helped us all along, mostly by working with Jefferson and Mary. They also joined us at Hardwick’s party, disguised as Becky’s children.”
“That’s why the children stayed with me all night on the Charlotte,” Melancthon says.
“They were supposed to be us?” Olive asks, running up to Sonia. “You’re so big!”
“You’ll be big soon enough,” Sonia says, chucking her under the chin. “Don’t rush it.”
“Nobody but Frank Dilley knew what Becky’s children looked like,” I explain. “So we were able to sneak them in.”
“Which I might have foreseen,” Helena says. “But I don’t think you ever really looked at them.”
“I tried to think of them as Olive and Andy,” I say. “It was hard.”
“But it worked.”
“So you’re the mind reader,” Melancthon says to Helena.
Helena just smiles at him.
“You’ve counted out all the portions,” Sonia says, her voice suddenly cracking with anger. “And you weren’t going to leave any for us.”
“A promise is a promise,” I say, bending over to pick up one of the remaining bags. “I trust you’ll use it to look after Billy.”
The fight melts out of her. “And maybe a few other kids,” she says, cradling the gold to her chest, a shy smile forming.
“It’d help if you had a decent roof over your heads and some honest work,” I say.
Her smile disappears. “It’d help if someone would give us honest work.”
“We’ll see,” I say, and I glance over at Helena. “I think the Charlotte would make a fine hotel. It already has a good carpenter, who is also an excellent cook, but he needs someone who can manage the business side of things. Someone who is good at working with people, and who can see trouble coming before it arrives.”
“You gave him the deed for the Charlotte,” Helena says fiercely.
“No. I gave it to my good friend Wally Craven.”
The Major steps forward, pulling a bit of paper from his pocket. “And I’d like to give it to our new friends, Helena Russell and Melancthon Jones,” he says. “Miss Russell, you need a man to hold the deed in trust for you, and I can’t think of a more trustworthy fellow than Mr. Jones.”
“Either one of you can buy the other out at any time, of course,” Tom adds.
Helena snatches the deed from the Major’s hand. Melancthon and Helena regard each other like a pair of alley cats who discover themselves in a corner.
After a moment, Helena says, “I can see myself working with him,” and I wonder if she means it literally or figuratively. “Mr. Jones, it looks like we’re going into business together.”
Melancthon’s eyes are wide with amazement. “I can hardly believe it.”
“You’ve been such a help, sir,” I tell him. “We couldn’t have done this without you. You worked hard getting the Charlotte into livable shape. You watched the children during the party. Most importantly, you convinced the crew of the Argos to have plenty of lifeboats ready.”
“I . . . yes . . . I mean, sailors are a superstitious lot. All I had to say was I’d heard omens about it being a bad day for sailing and . . . really? You’re giving us the ship?”
With a glance at Jefferson, I say, “I can’t own property, being a woman. And my future husband can’t own property either, being half Cherokee.”
“And I have no use for a ship,” the Major says, staring at Becky. “My home is in Glory.”
I say, “So the Charlotte belongs to Melancthon and Helena now. If you rent out rooms, you’ll need someone to clean them, run errands, and the like. May I introduce you to my friends Sonia and Billy? They are currently in possession of their own means of support, but could use some stability and a future.”
The four of them regard one another uncertainly.
“Lee,” Jefferson says, pausing to toss his shovels back on the wagon. “It’s time to be on our way.”
I turn toward my mare.
“Wait,” Melancthon says. “I have one more big question.”
All of us wait expectantly.
“How did you sink the Argos?”
The air is suddenly taut. Everyone stares at me, wondering what I’ll tell him. The wind is picking up, clearing the morning fog. A sea hawk screeches overhead.
I smile. “Melancthon,” I say, “I’m afraid that’s one secret we’re not willing to share.”
Before he can press, Jasper says, “I need to get back to work. But I’ll be in Glory for the wedding, don’t think I won’t.”
Tom and Henry take their leave, insisting that this is “not a real good-bye,” promising to be in touch soon. Jim declares that he’s fetching his things and heading for Glory, that staying in this city might be bad for his health, and Hampton offers to help him along.
Becky and the Major are on the wagon bench, the children in the back, all waiting for Jefferson and me to finish up. Mary stands beside the wagon, looking a little lost.
“If the Charlotte makes a successful hotel,” Melancthon says, “there might be funds waiting for you. I could hold them in escrow—”
I wave my hand at him. “The deed is in your name. The ship is yours.”
He gapes at me. “But—”
Helena puts a hand on his arm. “She has resources,” she says. “The girl will be just fine.”
Jefferson puts our gold into Peony’s saddlebags. He hefts the bag, gauging its weight. “This is less than we had when we arrived in San Francisco.”
“But still more than we need.” I put a foot in the stirrup and swing myself up onto Peony’s back. “Mary, are you staying in the city or coming home with us?”
She hesitates.
“Mary?” I say.
Mary and Becky are staring at each other. Becky’s jaw twitches.
&n
bsp; Finally Becky says, “Mary, don’t be daft. You know I can’t run that restaurant without you.” She lifts her chin. “You’re the third best employee I’ve ever had, and I’ve grown fond of y— your company.” After another too-long pause, Becky adds, “And fine. I’ll raise your wages.”
Mary’s smile could light up the bay. “Glory is my home.”
“Oh, Mary, I’m so glad,” I tell her, nudging Peony forward. “Jefferson, are you ready to go home?”
Jefferson climbs onto Sorry’s back, and I swear the horse sighs. “More than ready.”
APRIL 1850
Chapter Twenty-Four
Our first spring in California is glorious. It’s like the sun dropped dollops of its very own self all over our claims, because the land bursts with yellow mustard and bright orange poppies. The oaks grow heavy with soft gray-green leaves, and everywhere the air is filled with the sounds of birdsong and trickling water. Truly, we have come to the promised land.
The morning before our wedding, a small letter-shaped parcel reaches me from San Francisco. It’s made of beautiful, thick parchment, sealed with a splotch of red wax, stamped with the words OFFICE OF THE GOVERNOR OF CALIFORNIA.
I’m serving coffee in the Worst Tavern. It’s another busy day, because a group of Chinese miners are traveling through again, and the whole lot of them decided to stop for biscuits and gravy. Letters aren’t too uncommon since the weather turned; it seems the peddler or some other traveler stops by with a bundle at least twice a week now. So Mary is the only one paying attention as I break the seal with my fingernail and open it.
I gasp.
“What?” Mary says. “What is it?”
“It’s . . .” Two pieces of paper. One is a letter from the governor himself, which I quickly skim. The other . . . “Mary, I think this is a town charter.”
“What? Let me see.” She snatches the charter from my hand.
Becky sidles over to find out why we’ve stopped working.
“That sure is a fancy seal,” Mary says, gazing down at the charter. “And look at all those signatures!”