Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (27 page)

A glimmer of an idea flitted through Sarah’s mind. “These dams they built. What would happen if they were destroyed?”

“I’d say Palmer would get mighty mad because ’is claims below the dams would be flooded out and ruined. ’E’s got millions tied up in those claims. Nobody would ’ave the guts to do it, though.”

“Certainly not.” She chose her words carefully. “But what if, just for instance, you wanted to destroy that dam? How would you go about it?”

“That’s easy. I’d blow ’er sky ’igh.”

“And how would you do that?”

“That’s easy, too. I’d ask Ling. Anming says ’e worked in the coal mines in China, so ’e knows all about gunpowder. That’s what they use in the mines to blow out rocks and the like.” Cedric frowned, as if he’d just had a revelation. “Say, Mrs. Gregg, I ’ope you’re not thinking of—”

“Of course not. What a silly idea.”

The Englishman looked relieved and started to laugh. “What was I thinking? A nice lady like you is going to blow up ’annibal Palmer’s dam and ruin ’is priceless mining claim? That’s a good one!”

“Indeed it is, Cedric. A good one.”

As soon as she could, Sarah left the pie shop in search of Jack McCoy. She found him brushing Bandit in the stables back of the general store. She appreciated the way his eyes brightened when he saw her, but that wasn’t why she was here. “Hello, Jack.”

After a greeting, he looked apologetic. “I haven’t come up with a plan to get Florrie’s baby back. I’m still looking.”

“You can stop looking. What would you say if we blew up that dam Hannibal Palmer built over his Sandy Gulch claim and flooded it out?”

Jack threw down the brush. “What?”

“You heard me.” She gave Bandit an affectionate pat on the nose. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

A corner of Jack’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “You are something else, Widow Gregg. Yes, I’d like to hear your plan.” He led Bandit back to his stall. “Let’s take a walk. I suspect it’s best you not be overheard.”

By the time Sarah finished, they had walked the length of Main Street and were practically out of town. “What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you’re crazy.” She was about to protest, when Jack continued on. “But it just might work.”

“You mean you’ll help me?”

“It’ll be tricky, but if Ling agrees to come along, I can do it.”

She hastened to correct him. “Not I, we.”

He laughed. “You can’t mean you’re coming with us.”

“Why not? I’ve heard of women working in the goldfields.”

“But they’re few and far between.” Jack stopped smiling, as if he suddenly realized she meant what she said. “It’s a different world up in the diggings, brutal and harsh. Why would you even think of going?”

“Because it’s my plan, and I feel responsible. But also…” She struggled to put her thoughts in order. “There was a time when I wouldn’t have done anything more daring than try a new brand of tea. That’s before I got a taste of life in a mining town. The excitement, the adventure—it’s contagious. I know this sounds crazy, but maybe I’ve caught the gold fever, too. I don’t expect to find a twenty-pound nugget or anything. I just want to see with my own eyes what’s up there, and why shouldn’t I? Am I forbidden just because I’m a woman?”

“I give up.” Jack’s face split into a wide grin. “But you won’t be wearing that dress. I’ll get you a pair of trousers, a shirt, and hat.”

“You mean I must look like a man?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll know the difference.”

“Fine, then. Let’s get back to town. I’ll talk to Ling. We’ll head for the diggings as soon as we can.”

Early morning the next day, Sarah, Jack, and Ling set out for the diggings above Hangtown. Pa and Becky were still at the hotel, but Sarah had told them she’d be “very busy” for the next couple of days and likely wouldn’t see them. She carried a bedroll on her back, as did the two men, along with loads of gunpowder and long fuses. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Jack asked her.

“More than ever.” She’d dressed in men’s clothing as Jack suggested. How strange not to feel a skirt swirling around her ankles, but how much easier it was to walk. No wonder men wore pants. She might actually pass for a boy in her wide-brimmed men’s hat and loose cotton shirt—that is, if no one looked too closely at her not-so-flat chest.

So these were the diggings! Traveling ever upward, they passed deep riverbeds and ravines, many of them swarming with men wielding picks and shovels, wrestling with boulders, packing dirt to make dams. Others were hammering together the long, wooden flumes that carried water to their claims. At one point, Sarah stood in a spot where she could see hundreds of flumes zig-zagging their way downhill, along with countless waterwheels.

Tents and cabins of rough logs dotted the hillsides. Everywhere men toiled in the streams—all kinds of men like the Mexicans with their huge uncombed beards, Colt revolvers in their belts, and knives stuck into the legs of their pantaloons.

They came across a black man who said he was an ex-slave. He had to work by himself. No white man would associate with him, but he didn’t care. With a broad smile on his face, he told them, “I’m just glad they made California a free state. Could have gone either way.” He was saving his money to buy his wife and family, still slaves in Georgia.

A grizzled, old miner took a moment from his labors to talk. “Look at them,” he said, sweeping his hand over the swarm of miners. “All of them crazy, me included. Either we’re standing in ice-cold water for hours or we dig, dig, dig. When we’re not working, we’re getting sick with scurvy or downright starving. Look at that man.” He pointed to a nearby miner with a pale, cadaverous face. “He uses mercury because it binds to the gold. Trouble is it’s poisonous. He’ll be dead soon, and what will all his gold do for him then?” He grimaced and put his hand on his hip. “My back is lame. I’m a wreck. Don’t know if I can hold on much longer.”

“So why do you do it?” Jack asked.

The miner looked surprised he would ask. “Why do any of us do it? We’re killing ourselves out here, and all for the same reason. I’ve got the same dream as everyone else. There’s a twenty-five pound pure gold nugget lying in a stream out there, just waiting for me to find it. That’s what keeps me going.”

They climbed higher. The terrain got rougher. Ling seemed tireless, climbing with the ease of a mountain goat. Much as Sarah wanted to show she could hold her own, she welcomed Jack’s help when she stumbled or had a hard time hauling herself up a steep hill. By now they’d left all the miners behind. They got so high Sarah could see the timberline in the distance above them. They followed as Jack veered to the left. After a short hike, they looked down on the Mad Mule diggings. When she saw the crew of men toiling in the stream and working the sluice boxes, she had a moment of doubt. “Wait! I don’t want to drown anyone.”

“You won’t.” Jack pointed to the scattering of tents and lean-tos high on the hillside. “We’ll wait for dark when they’ll be safe in their beds.”

They climbed higher till they came upon a dirt dam with a lake behind. Several long, wooden flumes led into it. Others lead downhill. Jack pointed. “There it is, Hannibal Palmer’s dam. See those flumes? That’s where he diverted the stream that ran through Sandy Gulch. Those other flumes lead down to his Mad Mule claim.” He looked at Ling. “Are you ready?” Using exaggerated gestures, he pointed to the dam, then to the packs on their backs. “Time to plant some gunpowder.”

Ling eagerly nodded.

“I want to come, too,” Sarah said.

“Not on your life.”

She was going to insist, but the sternness in Jack’s voice told her further discussion was useless. “It’s dangerous?”

“I’d hate see that beautiful figure of yours blown to kingdom come.”

End of discussion. Only after Jack and Ling left did she realize that hauling gunpowder on their backs and planting it with fuses might be dangerous. Up to now, she hadn’t given it a thought, but Jack’s
blown to kingdom come
remark caused a tightness in her chest. She waited with growing dread, expecting to hear an explosion at any moment. After two anxious hours, a cry of relief broke her lips when they returned. “You’re back! Did it go all right?”

Jack wearily sat on the ground, laying his backpack aside. “It’s done. We’ve set enough gunpowder and fuses to blow half the Sierra Nevada away.” He grinned. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

She grinned back. “What was there to worry about?”

“We’ll wait till after dark before we set off the charges. Palmer’s men will be out of the valley and up on the hillsides by then. Not that they’ll thank me for saving their lives.”

“So we wait some more?”

“We wait.”

* * * *

Under a quarter moon that barely lit the sky, Jack and Ling left again. It wouldn’t take long for them to light the fuses. Sarah stood breathlessly waiting until a tremendous blast shook the ground. She heard, more than saw, the dam crumble and the wall of water crash through and head down the valley below. Jack and Ling returned shortly, and the three stood peering into the near darkness. Sarah clasped Jack’s arm. “You did it!”

Jack gave a nod of satisfaction. “Blowing up the dam was the easy part. You’ve got the hard part.”

“Are you sure Palmer will come?”

“We’ve just wrecked his pride and joy, his second best moneymaker. You think he won’t come running? I give him two days, three at the most, before he arrives in Hangtown steaming mad.” He punched Ling on the shoulder. “Good job!”

The young Chinese smiled as if he understood, and maybe he did. Together they stood and listened as the last vestiges of water drained from the remains of Hannibal Palmer’s dam.

* * * *

A day later, after a quick, uneventful hike down the mountain, Sarah returned to the pie shop and found the air abuzz with only one topic of conversation, the destruction of the Mad Mule diggings. From what Sarah could glean, speculation over who blew up the dam ran rife. Maybe Joaquin Murrieta, the notorious bandit, blew it up. Maybe one of Palmer’s millionaire rivals was seeking revenge. Back in the kitchen, Cedric greeted her with a twinkle in his eye. “’Ave you ’eard the news? Someone ’ad the nerve to blow up the dam above Mad Mule. There’s ten feet of silt over the diggings. It’ll take months for Palmer to clean it up and get it going again, if ’e ever does.” He made an exaggerated clucking sound. “What a shame. I’d wager Palmer will show up in town any minute now.”

“Do you think so, Cedric?” Sarah asked sweetly. “Poor Mr. Palmer. Who would do such a terrible thing?”

Late that afternoon, Jack brought her the word. “Palmer’s just arrived. He checked into the El Dorado Hotel. Early tomorrow he’ll travel up the mountain to see the remains of Mad Mule.”

“Then I’d better see him tonight.” Sarah looked around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “Is everything in place?”

“We just got back,” Jack said softly. “It’s ready to go.”

The big moment had arrived. Her stomach filled with fluttering butterflies.
Florrie. Little Addy
. The thought of them steadied her. She must do what she had to do and not let fear get in the way.

* * * *

Dressed in a high-necked, dark grey calico, a plain grey bonnet on her head, Sarah entered the lobby of the El Dorado Hotel and asked for Mr. Hannibal Palmer’s room number. Upon receiving it, she climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on his door. Palmer opened it himself. He stared at her blankly. “Yes?”

“Don’t you remember me, Mr. Palmer? Not so long ago you had me escorted from your home.”

He frowned in recognition. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Gregg, is it not? What could you possibly want?”

The last of the butterflies disappeared from her stomach. Where her newfound courage came from, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was simply the knowledge that justice and decency dwelt on her side, not on the side of this evil man standing before her. “There’s a certain matter we must discuss.”

Palmer gave her a cold stare. “I have nothing to say.” He started to close the door.

She stopped it with the palm of her hand. “But I have lots to say to you.”

“See here,” he began, “I don’t have to—”

“Oh, but you do.” Her voice rang with confidence. “I assure you, you’ll face dire consequences if you don’t hear me out.”

Palmer frowned in thought. Easy to guess he’d love to shut the door in her face, but he didn’t quite dare. He swung the door open. “All right, come in, but make it brief.”

“Gladly.” She wasn’t the least bit glad to step into the room of a ruthless killer. Even worse, what she was about to say would make him angry. She’d come this far, though, and wouldn’t back out now. She swept into the room and turned to face him. “I won’t ask to sit down because this won’t take long.”

“Then speak up. I don’t have all night.” He was annoyed, yet curious, too.

The words came readily to her mouth. She didn’t even have to clear her throat. “As you know, the Mad Mule is in ruins.”

Palmer’s face suffused with anger. “What has that got to do with you, Mrs. Gregg?”

“I’m the one who blew up your dam.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she would have enjoyed seeing his expression change from annoyance to a mixture of astonishment, suspicion, and just plain disbelief. “What do you mean? You couldn’t possibly have—”

“I assure you, I did. Would you care to know why?”

“Go on.”

“As you may recall, I asked for my sister’s child back, and you refused. I still want her back, so I have a proposition for you.”

“And what might that be?” A thread of skepticism ran in his voice, as if he were talking to someone not quite bright.

“It’s like this, Mr. Palmer. I’d venture to say that as much as you might regret the destruction of Mad Mule, it would be nothing compared to losing Golden Hill. Wasn’t that the claim that made you rich? Twenty-pound nuggets lying on the ground and all that? I understand it’s still paying handsomely. Am I right?”

As she talked, a growing suspicion filled Palmer’s eyes. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

This time she had to take a deep breath.
Stay calm. This is now or never
. “Do you recall how you diverted the American river and built a dam above your Golden Hill claim?”