No Eye Can See (61 page)

“When we were at the choosing point of Nobles Cutoff, the morning Zilah became scattered in her thinking, Suzanne dreamed. She dreams little, she says, even before she lost her sight. But in this dream she could see, and she was crossing a stream to her husband. Her foot slipped and she thought she would drown. Her husband called to her and said to look up, not get caught up in the swirling water, the fears around her, but to keep her focus, to look always above the fray. She did not have the dream again, but she remembered it. And that the word for focus in Latin means hearth. So that is what she wanted drawn, afire burning in it, all of us
—
her family
—
warm and content around it. We are all together there in Suzanne's block, Tipton. She says she can almost see us. And in the corner is a tiny ‘Lover's Eye'drawn in ink. Suzanne says that it is God's eye on us all, and if we look up to him, that is all that we will ever need to see.

“Next year, send the quilt to Suzanne. She was second in the choosing.

“Blessings to you both,

“Love, Mazy”

A
UTHOR'S
N
OTES AND
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

“Stories tell us who we are and who we might become,” D. H. Lawrence wrote. This story, though fiction, grew from the realities of the 1850s, a time when stories of easy wealth drew people west with consequences far reaching. To help readers step into this place and time and story, I've relied on many resources, but what emerged is mine, for which I bear responsibility.

Special thanks go to the State of California for maintaining the Shasta State Historic Park, especially Ranger Jack Frost, who has not only taken the Noble's Cutoff, but who grew up in Shasta County, provides tours of Old Shasta, and carries in his heart the story of the city's once vibrant past as “the Queen City of the North.” Tom Hunt of Eureka, California, provided maps, diaries, articles, and moral support about the Noble's portion of the trail. His enthusiasm is matched by the Oregon California Trail Association whose dedication to preservation of the Oregon-California story is commendable.

I am particularly indebted to author Dottie West whose four books proved invaluable to whatever success I had at recreating Shasta of 1852-53.
The Dictionary of Early Shasta County History, The History of the Indians of Shasta County, Registered Historic Places in Shasta County,
and
The History of the Chinese in Shasta County
are the works of a woman passionate for history and for truth-telling about the lives of all the people in early Shasta, including people of color. Her inclusion of the Protection Act provided a detail related to the auctions I had long heard about, but had never seen documented. The Protection Act was amended in 1860 and repealed in 1864, but the practices continued for some years after.

History records that the
Courier
operated in 1852 under Sam Doshs editorial guidance; there was a St. Charles Hotel, a Hong Kong, a Kossuth House. There were two fires in Shasta City. That is fact. That Kossuths name was Nehemiah, was a silversmith, a friend of jeweler and gunsmith Ernest Dobrowsky (who did exist), or that he married Tip ton Wilson, is not. Poverty Flat, located close to the Sacramento River, was a major grazing area of packers. Mad Mule Canyon did give up gold along with its fascinating name. There were five bookstores in Shasta by 1855 along with more than three thousand people. True enthusiasts can visit Shasta Historical Park and see what remains of the brick buildings, mercantiles, and bookstores for themselves.

Peter M. Knudtsons work
The Wintu Indians of California
provided a glimpse into the lives of these mountain and river people. Few remain to tell their stories. To my Hupa/Wintu friend Kadoo Trimble and her brother Wesley Crawford, I express appreciation for allowing me to read material compiled by Jack and Jana Norton regarding the genocide perpetrated against native peoples in Northern California in the 1850s and for their insight based on stories of their own Wintu connections.

Fellow Women Writing the West member JoAnn Levy's books
They Saw the Elephant, Women in the California Gold Rush; Daughter of Joy;
and
For Californias Goldixz
treasures. Her research about the lives of the Chinese and the varied roles of women in the mining camps, theaters, boardinghouses, and mercantile shops and about laws related to divorce, business, and more that affected women on the western frontier and her personal encouragement were invaluable. Women did indeed perform many a new task in their new landscape.

Gary and Gloria Meiers
Knights of the Whip, Stagecoach Days in Oregon,
and numerous works by the Oregon Historical Society and Carlos Arnaldo Schwantes’ book
Long Days Journey
provided background information about stagecoach transportation and commerce. These authors provided an understanding of the connection between these two great western states.

Finally, some personal appreciation. To my brother, Craig, and sister-in-law, Barbara Rutschow, for making the meaning of family real in our lives; and for their introduction to the Ayrshire cows of their neighbors Joe and Kathy Tousignant of Red Wing, Minnesota. The list of friends to thank is long and often repeated, but special note does go to Blair Fredstrom, Kay Krall, Carol Tedder, Sandy Maynard, Millie Voll, Katy Larsen, Bob Welch, Harriet Rochlin, Michelle Hurtley, Wade Keller, Bobbi Updegraff, agents Joyce Hart of Pittsburgh and Terry Porter. Special thanks and admiration belong to editors Lisa Bergren and Traci DePree for encouragement and desperately needed focus. I thank all the fine staff at WaterBrook Press for their confidence in me and this story.

And not least, to my husband, Jerry, thank you: for sharing our own adventure along Nobles Cutoff and our life's journey through the wilderness of landscapes, relationship, and spirit. Your love and support are unending and without equal.

Finally, to you readers, I extend my deepest gratitude, for caring for these characters and so graciously for me. I hope you'll want to follow their stories into book three and find nurture in the journey. Thank you.

Fondly,
Jane Kirkpatrick

You may write to Jane at: 99997 Starvation Lane, Moro, OR 97039 or visit her Web site at
www.jkbooks.com
.

The following is an excerpt from Jane Kirkpatrick's
What Once We Loved
Book 3 in the Kinship and Courage series
Available in stores fall 2001

1854

It was as soft as a lamb's ear, as sweet as Mei-Ling's honey. Ruth Martin had never been kissed like that, not in all her twenty-five years. His lips were tentative at first, like a colt just learning to stand. His hands on either side of her face felt warm, his fingers mere butterflies at her ears. She smelled leather, and then his tentativeness moved to something firmer, something safe and as strong as the log corrals that bound her horses. She drifted like a leaf caught in the backwater of a stream. He moved closer, and she became aware of the distance between their bodies even as their faces touched. A sound of surrender gathered at her throat, stopped the air that flowed.

Ruth pulled back, opened her eyes and stared at the blue of his, surprised once again at the smoothness of his face. As she stepped back, his wide hands traced down her cotton-covered shoulders, lingered at the crook of her bare elbow, reached to clasp the palms at her side. She offered one. With the fingers of her free hand, she touched at the knot of hair caught beneath the brim of her wide hat. She felt rattled, uncertain. She rubbed at the back of her neck, swallowed, gathered her breath, her thoughts, her senses. “You're much too … This isn't…”

He put his finger to her lips, quieted her, and she looked at him again, perhaps for the first time. She saw goodness in that face, with more experience than she credited him. Wisdom. And strength. “My Irish grandmother, on my mas side, used to say ‘Better one good thing that is, than two good things that were, or three good things that might never come to pass.’ This is a good thing, Ruth. Something rising from all the bad. We dont know what'll come of it or if it'll wipe out what's gone before.” He kissed the back of her hand as he held it. “But we can accept this, just as it is.”

A quail clucked in the manzanita bushes, and her eyes moved there to watch the mother hover her covey out of sight. The air smelled rich with pine scents, and behind him she could see a spring burbling out of the side of the Oregon hillside that marked this place as home now. He lifted her chin and moved to bring her eyes back to his. The leather and smell of his boiled shirt blended with the memory of this first kiss, and she felt herself blush.

“It's a gift, our having this moment,” he said. “Along with finding a spring near a meadow. That promises good, God willing.”

She nodded and smiled up at him, feeling young and inexperienced, not a mother and an auntie.

“Come on, lets go get us a drink,” he said and pulled her along, a gentle bear leading her. “Nothing more refreshing than spring water.”

Savor the moment,
she told herself. Hang on to the promise of a spring. It was a gift she could have. She just had to learn to receive.

J
ANE
K
IRKPATRICK

JANE KIRKPATRICK is the author of eight books, including two non-fiction titles and six novels.
A Sweetness to the Soul,
her first novel, earned the Wrangler Award from the Western Heritage Center as the Outstanding Western Novel of 1995.
All Together in One Place
is the first book in her Kinship and Courage historical series.

A Wisconsin native, Jane holds advanced degrees from that state's universities and is a licensed clinical social worker and former mental health director. She continues to consult with Indian tribes in Oregon and non-Indian communities, encouraging families and children with special needs. She speaks often at retreats and conferences throughout the country about the power of faith and stories in our lives. Jane has two stepchildren, and she and her husband of twenty-four years live with their two dogs on a remote ranch they “homesteaded” on the John Day River in eastern Oregon.

Jane welcomes your comments about how her stories have touched your life. She can be reached at the address below or at her Web site, which she accesses via the seven mile phone line she and her husband and friends buried (twice!).

99997 Starvation Lane
Moro, OR 97039
http://www.jkbooks.com