Native Gold (26 page)

"Mati gave them to me," Hintsuli said.

"Mati?" Towani asked.

"Mati is the name of the white woman," Sakote explained, annoyed at Hintsuli and his loose tongue. "She makes pictures of the white men. That’s how she gets gold."

"These are very good." Noa examined them closely.

Hintsuli plucked one from the bottom of the stack. "This one is me," he proclaimed proudly.

"So it is!" Noa said, holding it up at arm’s length. "It looks just like you. Are you going to take this to the Feather Dance?"

Hintsuli nodded.

Towani was leafing through the sketches when she stopped, and a curious look came over her face. "And who is
this?"
Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she reversed the page.

Sakote clenched his jaw. Hanging from Towani’s delicate fingers was the portrait of him with his bow.

He snatched it as fast as lightning, slamming it protectively against his chest, but not before Noa got a good look at it. Sakote was stunned. How had his little brother found the sketch?

"Well," Noa said, clearing his throat after an uncomfortably long silence. "I’d say that’s a picture a man can be proud of."

Sakote didn’t feel proud. He felt foolish. He fired a glare at Hintsuli that would have scorched wood, and the boy’s eyes grew round as river rocks. As soon as he got Hintsuli alone, he vowed, he’d have a few choice words for him. His only consolation was relief that he’d let Mati keep the sketch of him naked.

"I...pulled the white woman from a ledge where she’d fallen." His explanation sounded lame, and his cheeks burned with humiliation. "She made the picture to repay me."

Noa and Towani exchanged a glance of amused conspiracy, which only added fuel to the fire of Sakote’s shame. But instead of entangling himself further into their trap with weak words, he fought them with silence.

Hintsuli must have known Sakote was angry with him, for when Sakote rose to leave at midday, the boy made every excuse, even to the point of letting his eyes brim with tears, to stay with Noa and Towani. Finally, they relented, and Sakote was only too happy to make the journey home without his troublemaking little brother. Besides, watching his friend and his sister—the way she rested her hand with affection on Noa’s sleeve, the way he tenderly brushed the hair back from Towani’s eyes, the secret, loving gazes between them—made him long for the white woman who stirred his heart.

When Mattie awoke after the dance, it was so quiet she morbidly wondered if the miners had all killed each other. She performed quick ablutions and put on her best dress. It was Sunday, after all, the day of contrition, and Mattie suspected several miners had a wealth of confessions to make.

She was right. When she arrived at the makeshift church, most of the men looked as if they’d been dragged from their beds, unshaved, unwashed, bruised and miserable, still sporting last night’s brandy-, sweat-, and blood-stained shirts. Only Tom Cooligan, thumping on his Bible at the fore of the ragtag congregation, had a cheery face for her. He may have been the only one who’d avoided getting bald-faced drunk, but Mattie was sure it wasn’t from lack of trying. Nonetheless, Tom managed to deliver a ringing sermon that had the miners grimacing in pain and covering their ears. By the time he was finished with his scolding, Mattie thought she’d never seen such a remorseful bunch of wretches in her life.

It took them most of the day to do penance, what with Amos baking Mattie a special peach tart and the Mexicans singing her a ballad of apology that must have had two dozen verses. The Campbell boys, their handsome faces now swollen masses of plum-colored bruises, delivered their regrets one by one. Zeke punctuated his apology with several spits of tobacco, and Granny muttered something under her breath that Mattie would have sworn included the phrase, "better git used to it." Frenchy presented her with a nosegay of wildflowers and the recitation of a romantic poem which he performed in both French and English. The Cooper brothers couldn’t remember much of what happened, but, egged on by their Ma, no doubt, they were more than willing to volunteer their strong backs and capable hands to do any odd jobs she needed done in penitence for whatever it was that had occurred last night.

Most contrite, of course, was Swede. He came to her cabin in the afternoon. As Mattie opened the door, she tried to hide her disappointment. She’d just combed her hair and pinned a few of Frenchy’s flowers onto her bodice, preparing to meet Sakote at the waterfall. Now she’d have to delay the trip.

Swede crushed the brim of his doffed hat between his hands.

"May I come in, Miss Mattie?" he murmured.

"Of course." She swept her skirts aside and indicated the stool at the table.

The way he sank down upon it, she could tell he intended to take his time. She heaved a silent sigh and put on a brave face.

"Seems like I failed you, ma’am," he began, and from there on, despite her reassurances, he seemed to sink further and further into despondence.

By sunset she’d heard his whole life story. She learned that he had a wife and six little girls, each one not more than a year apart from the next, family he hadn’t seen in two years. He’d been a poor sharecropper, and it had been his dream to come to California for a half-year at the most, long enough to strike it rich and return a wealthy man. But fate hadn’t seen it that way. Instead, he was stuck at Paradise Bar, too proud to go home penniless, but too practical to hold much hope of riches.

Mattie, he said, reminded him of sweeter times back home, times when he was a decent husband with a good wife, and he was appalled at his behavior the previous night. What kind of father could he be, anyway, if he fell prey to demon liquor and forgot all his manners?

Mattie gave him all the bolstering she could, but by the time he finally pushed up from the stool and got ready to leave, her flowers lay wilted upon her breast, and the bottled candle on the table burned low. She’d missed Sakote.

Swede apologized, saying he didn’t know why he’d burdened her with all his troubles. But Mattie knew why. She was a woman, and he was far away from his wife. The poor man needed a sympathetic feminine ear. Inwardly scolding herself for thinking about Sakote while Swede poured his heart out to her, she gave him a big bear hug. He sniffled once, then cleared his throat, jammed his hat down over his brows, and bid her good evening.

Sakote watched from the bushes outside Mati’s cabin as the two shadows came together on the white cloth covering the window. Mati and...some man. His heart sank like a rock in a deep pond. He couldn’t stop staring at the flickering silhouette. His body was suddenly weary, as if he’d run a very long way. Finally, he tore his eyes away and turned to walk home through the black night on feet made of stone.

He’d waited for her at the waterfall. While the sun crossed the sky and skimmed the tops of the trees to the west, he’d waited for Mati. The sky turned to the color of poppies, then redbud, then coyote mint, and still he’d waited.

Then he’d begun to worry. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d fallen off another cliff? Or lost her way? Or crossed the mountain lion’s path? His pulse racing, he’d charged recklessly along the path to her cabin, listening for sounds of distress over the fearful beating of his own heart.

And even when he saw her cabin, saw the cheery flicker of candlelight and heard the murmur of voices coming from within, he worried that perhaps a bad
willa
, an evil white man like her dead husband, might hold her captive.

But the shadows on the cloth had told him the truth. The man had taken Mati in his arms, and she’d returned the embrace. She hadn’t come to Sakote at the waterfall because she preferred the company of another.

His chest ached deep inside, and though he tried to blame it on the long foolish run he’d made searching for the white woman, he knew the pain came from his heart, broken into shards like splintered obsidian.

It was the following Friday when the miners decided something had to be done.

Swede ran a hand over the back of his neck and murmured, "Are you sure she’s tucked in for the night?" He didn’t like meeting this way, in secret, in the shadows. It was like they were a bunch of Paradise Bar vigilantes getting ready to string someone up.

"Her candles were all blowed out," Jeremy reported.

Swede gave one final glance in the direction of Mattie’s cabin before he began. "Fellas, you know I don’t cotton much to this kind of sneakin’ around. Miss Mattie’s a decent woman. She wouldn’t think too kindly on us spreadin’ tales."

"Well now," Tom Cooligan said, perching his hat toward the back of his head, "that’s all well and good, but it’s for the lady’s sake we’re meetin’."

Swede might not approve of their methods, but he agreed they had to take action. For five days now, Mattie had moped around her cabin like a kicked hound. Jasper and Red never saw her come to work her claim. Nobody got their picture drawn. Her gentlemen callers, and there’d been at least a dozen, had all been served a portion of the same polite disinterest. Something was troubling Mattie, and since she was the camp’s resident darling, he supposed maybe the men’s cloak-and-dagger goings-on could be forgiven.

"Maybe the lass is feelin’ poorly," Tom volunteered.

"I tell you," Frenchy insisted, wagging his finger under Tom’s nose, "her heart is broken."

Tom crossed his arms over his chest. "And what makes ye so sure o’ that?"

Frenchy shrugged. "I am French. I know these things."

The rest of the miners nodded sagely.

"All right then," Swede said, looking real hard at the faces of the men gathered around the fire. "Which one of you did it? Which one of you broke her heart?"

They all looked about as comfortable as nuns in a whorehouse. Finally, Dash Campbell spoke up. "Mighta been me."

His brother Ben promptly smacked him with a hat, which couldn’t have felt too good on that yellow bruise Dash still had from last Saturday’s brawl.

"Aw, she never even looked twice at you," Ben said. "I was the one she had eyes for."

"You’re both idjits," Bobby Cooper told him. "Me and my brother, why, we been up to her place three times now."

"Yeah," Harley jeered, "like pesky ‘skeeters she can’t get rid of."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

The boys looked raring to start another round of the fight they never finished on Saturday. Swede sighed. He never thought having a lady in camp could cause so much grief. He stepped between them, clamping a hand on each boy’s shoulder before they could inflict damage.

"Hold on now. Don’t get your feathers all fluffed up."

Granny raised a hand.

"What is it, Gran?" Swede asked.

"It’s prob’ly Zeke who broke her heart," she mumbled, spitting on the ground.

Zeke glanced around quickly, like he’d just woken up. "Me?" he squeaked.

"Yeah, well..." Granny kicked the dust around with the toe of her boot. "What lady
wouldn’t
be sweet on him?"

Swede could have knocked Zeke over with a feather after that.

"No, no, no," Frenchy fussed, fluttering his hands in the air. "Perhaps it is not even one of us."

"Then just who in the hell would it be?" Harley challenged.

"Boys, boys," Swede scolded.

Red scratched at his chest. Then his eyes grew round. "Hey!" he said in sudden enlightenment. "Maybe Frenchy’s right. Maybe she’s got a sweetheart back home."

Swede sighed with exaggerated patience. Sometimes Red could be thick as molasses. "Red, she came here to marry up with Doc. I don’t think she’s got a sweetheart back home."

The men were quiet a while, stewing over the possibilities.

Then Dash started nodding thoughtfully. "Hey, maybe she’s, you know, expectin’ a visit from the stork. That always left our Ma kinda down in the mouth."

Swede felt the hackles rise on his back, just like a grizzly’s. He didn’t want to think Miss Mattie might have gotten herself with child out of wedlock. Why, it was vulgar for Dash to even mention it. On the other hand, the boy could be right. Maybe she was going to have a baby. Maybe that was why she’d hightailed it out of New York and headed out West to marry up with a man she didn’t even know. It sure made sense.