“Good.” He paused. “There is one caveat, however, and I believe it was implied, but I want to be crystal clear. If you agree to work for me and I offer Vicky a job, it’s with the understanding that Bennett Studios closes their doors for good. I don’t want you making films for me and helping your father on the side.”
I nodded my understanding as I contemplated what his offer meant. I also had 1849 to consider. I wasn’t sure if I would even stay in 1929 past my next birthday. And what if I found enough gold to give Papa what he needed to build Bennett Studios to compete with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer?
“Take your time thinking about it,” Mr. Mayer said as he motioned to one of the maids standing near the door to bring more lemonade. “I don’t need an answer right away, though the sooner the better. Let’s put the business aside for now and enjoy our meal.”
As he and Spencer began to chat about industry news, I sat back in my chair, my gaze slipping to the moonbeams on the ocean waves.
How could I turn down two hundred thousand dollars a year when the average person made two thousand a year? And how would I make this decision without consulting my parents? Did I even want to?
I had a lot of choices to make in the coming weeks, and I didn’t even know where to start.
15
September 22, 1849
Sacramento, California
The sun beat down relentlessly as our pack mules picked their way over the dusty ground from Sacramento City to the Yuba River. We’d left San Francisco five days ago and taken the steamboatPioneer, a seventy-foot-long side-wheeler, up the Sacramento River to Sacramento City. It had been cramped, expensive, and uncomfortable. I was the only female on the boat, so I stayed close to Sam, and he kept me under his watchful eye. Any time a man started to approach, Sam made it known I was not to be bothered, leading them to believe we were married—an assumption I did not correct. We had not given our real names to anyone, and thankfully, no one seemed to recognize us.
At night, we retired on our bedrolls on the top deck under the stars. Though our bodies didn’t touch, we lay close to each other, me against the sidewall with Sam protecting me from the other men. I had lain there for hours with the swaying of the boat, watching his back as I thought about where we were going and what we were attempting to do. It also gave me time to think about Mr. Mayer’s exorbitant offer and what it would mean for Bennett Studios. I’d realized there were two reasons I needed tocontemplate the offer before talking to my parents. The first was that they might try to talk me out of it, but the second, that they might try to talk meintoit, seemed even more troubling. It was so much money. I was afraid Papa would give up his dreams for Bennett Studios to let me pursue a career with MGM—and that thought frightened me most of all. Could I be the person who finally closed Bennett Studios?
Sam pulled the reins of his pack mule and paused, waiting for me to catch up. We were in the Sacramento Valley, a flat, never-ending piece of earth. Somewhere to our right, the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains beckoned with gold, and somewhere to our left, the Feather River flowed toward the Sacramento River.
I stopped beside Sam, eager for a chance to get off my uncomfortable mule and rest my backside. My head pounded from the heat and the uneven gait of the animal, though I hadn’t complained all day. Sam had paid for our trip thus far and had sacrificed weeks of work at Bess’s Place, not to mention his new San Francisco Hotel. Paddy and a few men would continue working on the building while we were away as Father kept an eye on the children.
Though I hadn’t voiced my discomfort since leaving Sacramento City, I wanted to. We’d been traveling for hours in the dust and heat. I was hungry, grumpy, and sore.
“I think we’re lost.” Sam got off his mule and pulled a map out of his saddle pack.
“Lost?” My heart sank as I looked behind us at the ground we had just covered.
“We should have rejoined the Feather River by now.” He opened the hand-drawn map we’d purchased in Sacramento City. It showed where the Sacramento and Feather Rivers converged about twenty miles northwest of the city. The map laid out a trail from there to a point on the Feather River that was straighter and faster, overland.
“How could we get lost?” I slid off the mule, my legs weak and shaking. I shook out my skirt, which had been bunched around my legs as we traveled. “There’s nothing out here but dry, open land.” I motioned to the endless, haze-covered valley.
“I don’t know. But we’ve gone more than ten miles, and that’s how far we were told it would be from the confluence to Nicolaus’s ferry.”
We wouldn’t take the ferry, but the small settlement was a landmark we were supposed to find on our way, letting us know we were heading in the right direction. We were also told it would be a safe place to camp.
He looked at the map again and squinted west, where the river should have been visible. “We can’t be too far off. There isn’t much between Sacramento and Marysville.” He began to remove the pack from the saddle. “We’ve pushed these beasts farther than we should for one day. It’s best that we make camp for the night and look for the ferry crossing tomorrow.”
“Camp?” I knew this moment was coming—had been thinking about it all day—but it still took me by surprise. It was one thing to sleep on a crowded deck with Sam and fifty other men. An entirely different thing to be alone with him. I had assumed we’d be camping near Nicolaus’s settlement, around other people. One more night before we were completely alone on the Yuba River. Yet here we were. Alone.
I wasn’t scared, at least not of Sam. Even though he was a convicted murderer, I knew deep in my heart that there had to be an explanation. He wasn’t a killer. Sam was good and kind and sacrificial.
I was more afraid of myself and the knowledge I had gained fromThe Annals of San Francisco. If I had never seen the book, I wasn’t even sure I would have contemplated developing feelings for Sam, but now that I knew we were supposed to be married, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and pondering whether I’d have had these feelings if I hadn’t known.
“I’ll get the fire started,” he said, “if you want to get out our supplies.”
I was thankful for something to do to take my mind off my thoughts.
If it were only that easy.
He glanced at me as he gathered kindling from a nearby thicket. I tried not to look uneasy, but I couldn’t help it.
“You knew we’d need to camp alone together, didn’t you?” he finally asked as he cleared a spot of ground to lay the fire.
“Yes.”
