Instead, the gazes leveled at us are friendly and curious. Some are openly smiling. I force myself to smile back as we drift farther into the room.
Chandeliers bright with candles hang from the ceiling. Tables heaped with food line the walls. There’s even a sparkling glass punch bowl. In the far corner a small orchestra plays “Greensleeves.” I’m one of the few women in the room. I count three others, all much older, one of whom is a beautiful Mexican woman with gray streaks in her glossy black hair and a ruffled, multicolored skirt. She hangs on the arm of a man who wears a tight, high-waisted red vest with shining rows of brass buttons.
She gives me a smile and a wave, even though I’m a total stranger to her, and the gesture fills me with warmth.
Two men wear dresses. One sports an enormous beard and mustache. Both are already dancing with partners, and by all appearances having a grand time of it. It’s a sight I’d never see in Georgia, and it puts to mind what a strange and marvelous place California is.
“I should have worn a dress,” Henry says, his voice full of wonder.
Suddenly men are approaching me from all directions, congregating into an eager gaggle, but a stocky fellow with long brown sideburns reaches me first. “You look ravishing, Miss Westfall,” he says. “Are you . . . unattached?”
Well, he sure didn’t waste time getting to the point. “I am unmarried,” I say, before I can think better of it. I resist the urge to step back, a little closer to Jefferson and Tom and Henry.
He grins, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “I’m delighted to hear it. I’m Matthew Jannison, carpenter by trade. May I have this dance?” And he extends his hand to me.
I’ve never been much for dancing, much less with strangers, but it’s better than standing around growing increasingly nervous about meeting my uncle’s patron, so I place my hand in his sweaty one and allow him to lead me onto the floor. I feel Jefferson’s eyes on my back as we step away.
“Where are you from, Miss Westfall?” he asks as we fall into time with the orchestra. His hand remains acceptably high on my waist, and he maintains a proper distance between us, so I relax enough to tell him the truth.
“Lumpkin County, Georgia. And you, Mr. Jannison?”
“Boston. You came by ship, I assume?”
“No, sir. Wagon train.”
His eyes widen. “But you’re so . . .”
“I’m not at all a proper lady, and don’t you dare imply that I am.” I say it with a smile, hoping he understands my mood.
“I wouldn’t dream of making such a gauche insinuation!” he declares with mock affront. “Did you arrive with your parents?”
“I came alone. But I’m not alone anymore.”
“But you said you are unmarried.”
Beside us, Henry is now dancing with a strange man, chatting at him with as much comfort and animation as I’ve ever seen.
“I have many friends,” I say, smiling.
“I see.” But I can tell he doesn’t, and this conversation is growing tiresome.
“Mr. Jannison,” I say, “do you happen to know a Mr. James Henry Hardwick? He’s a business partner of my uncle’s, and I’d dearly love to make his acquaintance.”
Mr. Jannison’s cheeks are already bright red with the exertion of dancing. “All of Sacramento knows Mr. Hardwick!” he says. “He’s a member of the city council, and he owns more acreage than—”
“Oh, I’d be so delighted if you could introduce me!”
“Of course! He is a personal friend, you know. Right this way, my dear.”
Well, that was easy. I allow him to lead me away, but I quickly cast around the ballroom for my friends. Henry sees me first, and when I nod to him, he makes apologies to his dancing partner and moves to follow. Jefferson stands beside one of the food tables, staring glumly into a cup full of punch as if trying to augur something. My gesture to get his attention is less than subtle, and he sets down his cup and follows too.
I sense the two of them falling in line behind me as we make our way to a curved stair with a shiny banister wrapped in garlands. I don’t see Tom anywhere nearby, but hopefully he’ll notice us and join soon.
Several smartly dressed men cluster together on the steps. It seems as though they are deep in counsel, purposely posed in a spot from which they can survey their domain—and easily be seen, as well. I feel my hackles go up, and I’m not sure why, except maybe that they remind me of my uncle. Even the way they stand, the way they talk and carry themselves, speaks of power and a deep sense of their personal place in the world.
“Excuse me, good sirs,” Mr. Jannison says. “Please forgive the interruption.”
The men cease their discussion to turn as one and stare at us.
“This young lady would like to make the acquaintance of Councilman Hardwick,” he continues blithely. “Naturally I thought to bring her over before her dance card filled.”
“How gracious of you,” a man with white hair says dryly. He has harsh cheekbones and sideburns as fluffy as rabbit cottontails.
Mr. Jannison beams, but it occurs to me that Mr. Jannison’s assertion of personal friendship might be much exaggerated.
“You are Miss Westfall, I presume?” the white-haired man says. “I heard you announced as you entered.”
“Yes. Are you Mr. Hardwick?”
“I am he.”
“Then I believe we have some business to attend to.”
He smiles down at me as though I’m a favorite hound. “I’m attending to business right now, with these gentleman. I can make some time for you tomorrow.”
The gazes of his companions are apprising rather than friendly; calculated and prim. They are so like my uncle that I almost walk away, defeated.
“You will treat with me now, sir,” I say in as firm a voice as I can muster. “I’m in Sacramento today only. Surely these gentlemen would not begrudge a lady in need this small bit of your time?”
One of the other men laughs. “We’ll continue this later, James,” he says, placing a companionable hand on Hardwick’s shoulder.
Hardwick frowns. “Thank you, Governor Burnett.”
My eyes widen. The governor?
Governor Burnett turns to me. “It’s nice to finally see you in the flesh. Though you are markedly less golden than advertised.”
I force a smile and wave nonchalantly. “You know these miners and their tall tales.”
“Indeed.” And with a look of dismissal, the governor steps down the stairs and onto the dance floor, the other men following in his wake.
Now it’s just me and a flustered Mr. Jannison, Jefferson and Henry at our backs, gazing up at my uncle’s patron. I don’t like having him look down on me from the stairs, so I step up beside him, bringing us closer to eye level. He frowns.
“I understand you blew up my mine,” he says for an opening sally.
“My uncle told me it was his mine,” I say. “And it collapsed in a bad storm.”
Mr. Jannison looks back and forth between us, eyes wide, then beats a hasty retreat. Were I a betting woman, I’d lay odds he’ll never invite me to dance again.
“With the help of a little gunpowder, they say,” Hardwick insists. I don’t contradict him. Better for everyone to blame gunpowder than magic. “I could have you jailed for the destruction of my property. I’ve been considering it.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Jefferson mutters.
“I have a much better idea,” I say quickly, before Jefferson gets us in trouble.
Hardwick raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I understand my uncle still owed you four thousand dollars.”
“He did. But he’ll be unable to pay. Apparently your sabotage has ruined him. Besides that, I’m not certain he’s in his right mind anymore.”
I guess that means he survived Wilhelm’s laudanum. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“He was never in his right mind,” Tom says, and I’m so relieved that he has finally joined us. “Hiram Westfall is
a thief and a murderer. I’m sorry you got taken in by such a wicked fellow.”
Hardwick glares. “And who are you?”
“Thomas Bigler, attorney, of Illinois College,” he says proudly. It’s the first time I’ve heard him own up to being a real lawyer, and I can’t help my smile.
“I see,” Hardwick says. “Well, I must say I’m not surprised to hear that. He seemed polished and intelligent when we met, and he claimed a great deal of mining experience. But he was in terrible shape when I fetched him.”
“You fetched him?” I glance around the ballroom, suddenly wary. Is he here? I had hoped never to see him again.
“Of course I fetched him. I figured he could work off his debt to me over time, but he is not fit for work.”
“Where is he?”
“Locked up on one of the prison ships, the Stirling, until I decide what to do with him.”
My stomach turns over. Hardwick won’t be able to do things like that if California becomes a state; it’s a crime in this country to lock someone up over a debt. My uncle deserves jail and worse, but not for that. It’s badness upon badness upon badness.
But I can’t help the relief that swells inside me at the thought of my uncle locked up. Maybe that makes me bad, too.
I’m silent for so long that Tom has to jump in. “We would like to make a deal with you, sir.”
Hardwick’s gaze surveys the four of us—me in my almost-golden gown; Jefferson, whose skin is as sun burnished and Cherokee as ever; Tom in his smart but inexpensive suit; Henry in his finery. “I assume you’ve come to beg for clemency,” Hardwick says.
I laugh, loudly and genuinely, and several people on the floor below us turn to stare.
“Mr. Hardwick,” I say, “we’ve come to help you.”
His lips part with surprise.
“You can’t imprison this young lady for destroying your mine,” Tom says. “You have no proof.”
“I have my word,” Hardwick says.
“Who would believe you?” Tom counters. “A sweet, small lass like this? Collapsing a whole mine?”
Hardwick’s frown deepens.
“And you can’t hold me responsible for my uncle’s debt,” I add.
“It’s true,” Tom says. “She was not in Hiram Westfall’s custody when he incurred it. If anyone could take on the debt, it would be Westfall’s heir, but he has named none that I know of, and as I’m sure you know, women cannot inherit.”
If women could inherit property, I’d still be in Georgia, working my family’s homestead. Funny how the thing that made me flee my home will be the thing that saves me now.
Hardwick’s gaze on me is frank and appraising. He is reconsidering his notions about me; I can see it in his eyes. After a long moment, he says, “Seems I partnered with the wrong Westfall.”
I waste no time pressing my advantage. “I’m prepared to pay my uncle’s debt, anyway, if you agree to my conditions.”
He raises an eyebrow. “How will you come up with so much money? You expect to succeed where your uncle failed? Let me guess: You wish to reopen the mine. You think you can—”
Another laugh bubbles from my throat. “No, no, nothing like that. I already have the money, sir. California has been very good to me.”
He contemplates us for a long moment. Then, “Follow me. All of you.”
Hardwick leads us up the stairs and down a hallway of doors. He opens one and ushers us inside. It’s one of the guest rooms, simply but cleanly furnished with a bed, a dressing table, and two oil lamps. The music of the orchestra and the buzz of conversation dim as he closes the door behind us.
Immediately, he turns to me and says, “What are your conditions?”
“Hiram Westfall must leave California, along with a man by the name of Frank Dilley.”
“Ah, yes, Westfall’s foreman. He’s dead.”
“Oh.” I had suspected, but I hadn’t known for sure. “Just my uncle, then.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“I don’t much care,” I tell him. “Just ship him somewhere far away. I’m sure a smart man like you with resources can make it happen.”
He rubs his chin with one hand, considering me. “Hmm, maybe Australia. You will pay in advance?”
I almost say yes, but Tom jumps in. “Half now, half when we see a passenger manifest, independently witnessed, with Westfall’s name.”
“Yes, half now,” I say.
“In addition,” Tom says, “we want your word as a gentleman and council member that when California becomes a state, you will use every means at your disposal to ensure that Glory is granted a proper town charter.”
Hardwick rubs at his chin. “I think I can manage that. Tell me, Miss Westfall, how did you come up with so much? Dare I ask if you stole it from your uncle?”
“Well, I can speak for four of us in this room and say that we are not thieves.”
He actually smiles. “How did you come by it?”
“Hard work and charity,” I tell him. “Glory is a thriving, wonderful place brimming with people full of good will. They gave us the money.”
Now he seems genuinely surprised. “That’s hardly what I’ve come to expect from miners.”
“Well, pardon my saying, sir, but maybe you ought to broaden your expectations.”
Tom steps in. “To be perfectly frank, California has been a somewhat lawless place this past year, but with statehood coming, that’s going to change. People who’ve prospered from their hard work and sacrifice thus far—like our neighbors in Glory—will sacrifice even more for the guarantee that they can continue to prosper under the new laws.”
“But why come to me instead of going to the governor-elect?”
Tom smiles with tight lips. “I presume that’s a rhetorical question.”
“Do we have a deal?” I ask impatiently.
“Self-interest rules us all,” Hardwick says. He turns back to me. “Yes, you have a deal, young lady. My man will draw up the papers tonight for you to sign.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hardwick. We will all sign,” I say, indicating my friends. “In case you had any notion of later voiding the contract on account of its being signed by a woman.”
A slight widening of his eyes indicates I might have guessed right.
I spit into my palm and hold it out to him. “To our new arrangement,” I say.
After a moment’s hesitation, he spits into his own palm and grasps mine. “To our new arrangement.”
Chapter Thirty
It’s not a complex agreement, so his attorney is able to draft something quickly. Jefferson, Tom, Henry, and I each read it over carefully and sign it, then Hardwick does the same. We insist the attorney scribe a second copy that we can take back to Glory and show around, and we hand Hardwick two thousand dollars as a down payment, and that’s that.
We’re done, and my friends and I are, finally, truly safe.
“Weather permitting,” Hardwick says as we head back downstairs, “there will be fireworks along the riverfront tonight. I encourage you to view them.”
We reach the dance floor. “Thank you, Mr. Hardwick. That sounds like just the thing.”
“I might pay a visit to Glory this spring,” he says. “Can’t miss the opportunity to see such a blessed place full of earthen angels.”
His tone is mocking, but I choose to take his words at face value. “You would surely be welcome, sir,” I tell him.
From the corner of my eye, I see a throng of hopeful men approaching, full of purpose, each angling to reach me first. In a panic, I look to Jefferson. “Help?” I squeak out.
With that lightning grin I love so much, he grabs my hand and pulls me into the dancing fray. Jefferson is a terrible dancer, and so am I, and after a while I’m fairly sure the new boots the Major made for me are ruined from being stepped on so much. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m so breathless with relief and laughter and the wonderful familiarity of being with my best friend in the whole
world.
Someone taps Jefferson on the shoulder to cut in, and he is about to comply, but I grab his hand and pull him close. “I only want to dance with you tonight,” I say.
His smile disappears. As we dance and dance and dance, he stares down at me with so much hope in his eyes that my heart hurts.
The music stops, and the governor steps onto the stage and announces that everyone is invited to head toward the docks to see the fireworks. Jefferson’s hand stays clasped in mine as we leave the ballroom, skirt the giant Christmas tree, and step into the night.
We follow everyone else across the street and between buildings, toward the river and its network of hasty, haphazard docks. “Jefferson,” I whisper, yanking on his arm. “Look. It’s the Stirling.”
It’s a schooner devoid of sails, anchored permanently just offshore. In the dark, it seems a great hulking beast, a leviathan waiting to leap out of the water.
“That’s where your uncle is,” Jefferson says.
“Yes.” It’s odd to be so close to him just now. Does he have a window? Could he look out and see me?
“Do you want to visit him before he leaves?” Jefferson asks. “I’m sure we can arrange it, if that’s what you want.”
I stare at the ship. The water laps peacefully against its hull—along with the hulls of dozens of other ships that look abandoned and half salvaged for building materials.
“No. I told him I’d never speak to him again, and I meant it.” And I turn my back on the Stirling and Hiram Westfall and follow all the other ball attendees to a long dock lined with candles.
Violins take up a hymn, and I recognize it as the one Olive hums while she helps her ma serve miners, the same one Henry sang as Martin lay dying. Several people around us begin to sing along:
Like a river glorious, is God’s perfect peace
Over all victorious, in its bright increase . . .
“We were victorious today,” Jefferson whispers in my ear.
I smile. “We were.”
Beside us, Tom has an arm around Henry as the two gaze toward the sky.
The first fireworks shoot across the night, reflecting sparks of color on the surface of the river. More and more shoot up, higher and higher, so that it seems we’re surrounded by glittering light.