“How exactly does one make a claim there?” Alden asked.
“You find a plot of open land, ten feet by ten, and stake it off,” Samuel explained. “All you need is a shovel, pail, and a decent rocker to start your mining.”
“Doesn’t seem like there would be much land left to claim,” she said.
“There’s plenty of land away from the town. My little claim has already yielded about four thousand in gold.”
Alden shook his head. “Sounds too good to have any truth to it.”
“’Tis true enough, but four thousand doesn’t last as long in the mining towns as in other places.”
The other man elbowed him. “That’s because plenty of establishments in Columbia are more than willing to strip you of your find.”
“How long have you two been married?” Samuel asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“Oh, no—” Alden started, but Isabelle interrupted him.
“For ten years.”
Isaac turned swiftly toward her, his eyes wide, but neither he nor Alden disputed her.
She should have discussed this with Alden before she claimed to be his wife, but she feared what might happen if word spread that an unmarried woman was arriving in this town. And if Victor did decide to look for her out here, she didn’t want anyone to remember the name of Isabelle Labrie.
“Not many ladies venture out to the western slope,” Samuel said.
“More will come,” she assured him.
“I certainly hope you’re right.”
Alden glanced back down at his book, and in her window, she saw his reflection. She’d thought him handsome when they were younger, with his firm jaw and kind gray eyes. Even in his youth, Alden had been almost as tall as Victor. Now he would tower over the man.
A long time ago, Victor had claimed that he loved her, said that she was his rose blossoming in a field of weeds. Then he would lock her door, and she knew what was next. She’d fought him as a girl, everything within her crying out against what she was certain must be wrong. Even when her master said it was right.
In the end, no matter how hard she resisted, Victor had won. He didn’t care that he hurt her. And no one else cared when she pleaded for help in the darkness. She was a slave, subject to punishment for her refusal to breed.
When she shivered, Alden glanced over at her, but he didn’t say anything. She’d been scared when she was younger that Alden might hurt her too, but—gratefully—he never seemed to really see her.
If Alden couldn’t find Judah in Columbia, perhaps he’d try his hand at mining gold. She would select a new name for herself, both first and last. The two miners in the stagecoach knew her as Isabelle—or Mrs.Payne—but once they all dispersed, she doubted she would see them or even Alden again.
Strangely enough, she would be sad to say good-bye to Alden. Back in Sacramento, she’d equated him with the rest of the Payne family, but now it seemed his opposition toward slavery matched her own. He had worked with Stephan to free Persila, and he wanted Isaac to be free as well.
Her heart ached at the thought of saying good-bye to Isaac, one more farewell in a string of losses these past months. But once Alden found a home for him—or the laws changed—Isaac would be free to seek out an education as he grew into a man.
She glanced down at Alden’s book.
La Loi. The Law.
It was a French book, translated by a British man, that he’d obtained in Aunt Emeline’s cottage. The English had abolished slavery twenty years ago, thanks to reformers like William Wilberforce, who spent his life fighting the institution.
If only the United States would follow suit, granting every man, woman, and child the same opportunity to embrace freedom. But it would take someone strong like Wilberforce to change these laws, someone courageous enough to stand up to the injustice around them.
Someone willing to sacrifice his or her own freedom in order to set slaves free.
Chapter 37
Sierra Foothills
August 1854
