“No, you won’t.”
Jim stammered for an answer. “Of course I will. You know I’d rather be home with you.”
“You won’t miss me because I’m going with you,” she said. Then she raised her chin as if to dare his objection.
Jim considered it for a long moment, saying absolutely nothing. He let the moment stretch painfully thin. The only sound was from their impatient horses.
Ellen’s chin finally dipped and she looked at him fully. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Nothing from you? No complaints? No protests about how my place is with the children?”
Jim turned his horse and started down the path. “Little late for that now.”
This time it was Ellen who followed him. “You aren’t mad?”
“Doubt it’d do any good.” Jim only shrugged. “Besides, I’m tired of my own cooking.”
“Cooking? You expect me to cook for you?”
Jim turned enough to smile back at her over his shoulder. “That, and keep my blankets warm,” he said.
“Why, Jim Heston, you scoundrel. That kind of talk is quite improper,” Ellen said. But her face flushed with more than a little heat and she followed him along.
* * * *
It took Jim and Ellen two days to reach San Francisco. Rain fell all along the trail, clouds coming in like great rolling waves. Mottled brown mud clung in thick clumps to the horses’ legs, their boots, their supplies. The pair had fought a losing battle against the mud, conceding at the end of the second day.
Rather than discoverers of a rich new gold mine, they looked like paupers in filthy rags.
“A room first,” Jim said.
“A bath first,” Ellen corrected. “Nothing before a bath.”
The city was nowhere near as large or spread out as Independence, but it seemed twice as busy, a feat Jim didn’t believe was possible.
There were freighters, cowboys, merchants, and sailors everywhere. Mostly, though, it was miners. One in every three men carried either a pick or shovel over their shoulder. No matter their occupation, though, it was gold on everyone’s lips. A man in a fine suit stood in the back of a wagon, holding up a sheaf of papers, stock in a gold mine apparently, and was auctioning them off to the eager bidders. More than one brawl began as a runner carried papers or money through the crowd.
“Where do we stay in all this mess?” Jim asked.
Ellen looked at the chaos and said, “I’ll find us a place. Hold my horse.”
Jim held the reins to her horse, watching a pair of men hauling a third unconscious fellow from a saloon.
The unconscious man’s shirtfront was covered in blood. They deposited him in the gap between the buildings, propping him up against the wall. Then the taller of the two put something into the man’s shirt pocket.
He saw Jim watching him and grinned. “Fellow lost his front teeth,” he said.
“I’m sure he’ll be grateful to have them back,” Jim said.
“That’s what I reckoned, too.” The pair went back into the saloon.
“What happened to that fellow?” Ellen said when she returned. She was looking at the man between the buildings.
“Lost his teeth, I heard,” Jim answered. “Seems like that kind of town.” He didn’t like that Ellen was here among all these rough men, but there was no help for it now. He should have put up more of a fight back in Onionville.
“I know where we should stay,” Ellen announced when she was up in the saddle.
“I’ll follow you, then,” Jim said. For the tenth time since riding into town, he checked his pistol. How many of these men would he have to kill if they learned what he carried?
Ellen rode through the streets seemingly at random, and Jim grew concerned that they were entirely lost. He knew his way around the country. There he could see landmarks and keep track of his progress by the movement of the sun, but here there was only a dizzying array of streets and avenues. Each one resembled the last, each one was clogged with milling people and shifting wagons. Occupied as he was watching all of them, he couldn’t keep track of their route.
They finally paused at an intersection while Ellen looked each way in turn.
“Are we lost?” Jim ventured.
She gave him an annoyed look over one shoulder. “No, I’m looking for a tall blue house.”
“Like that one,” Jim gestured with the reins.
She followed his look, then said, “Like that very one.”
They waited for a cart loaded with barrels to pass by, then walked their horses across and down to the blue house.
“This is someone’s house,” Jim said.
“Yes,” Ellen smiled. “Now help me down, will you?”
