Yuba River, California
“Where you headed?” the miner asked as we passed him on the trail, traveling north along the middle stretch of the Yuba River. We’d found our way to Nicolaus’s settlement the morning after we’d been lost and got directions from there. “Ain’t no other women north o’ here. Sure you want to be going this way, ma’am?”
Sam and I were on our mules for the third day in a row. The farther we traveled up the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the more rugged the terrain and the less we saw of humanity. The miner had come out of nowhere. His dirty, worn clothing hung off his thin body, and his sunburnt face looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a year. “Winter’ll be setting in these mountains before you know it. Wouldn’t want you to be stuck here.”
“We’re just passing through,” Sam said, his voice low, unwelcoming. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Heading to some diggings?” The man’s eyes took on a sparkle. “I find the ones who don’t answer my questions have something to hide.”
We were going to a place that would one day be called Downieville, and if we didn’t get there before William Downie, who would beheading that way by October 6th, we would be hard-pressed to make enough gold for this trip to be worth it. We’d already covered at least fifty miles and had another ten to go.
“Got nothing to hide,” Sam said as his mule lifted his head impatiently. “What about you? Where you headed?”
“I’m going home.” He spat on the ground. “Came out from Ohio in the spring and should have never left home. The trip overland almost killed me, and what was left of me was almost destroyed in the diggings. I made less than ten dollars a day when I was promised hundreds. Not worth it.”
“Where did you dig?” I finally spoke up.
“Mostly on the south fork of the Feather River.”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. The south fork was at least fifty miles west over the mountains. “What are you doing here?”
“The Feather River is overrun by miners, but the Yuba is still mostly untouched. Came this way because I heard rumors of enough gold to fill a tin cup in a day. Stopped here and there along the way. There are so many tributaries and rivers, a man could go insane following them.” He shook his head. “Nope. I’m going home, unless you know something I don’t.” He eyed us closely.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “We’re just passing through.”
The miner squinted and then waved his hand. “Bah. I’m going home. Better luck to you.”
He continued south, following the river.
Sam nudged his mule to continue north. When we had gone a ways, he asked, “How much farther?”
“From my research in 1929, we have about ten miles to the fork where the Downie River—which isn’t named yet—will meet the Yuba. It’s there that William Downie and his men will find gold. Just north of there is where I’d like to set up camp.”
The terrain was getting rockier, steeper, and more difficult to pass, taking us longer to travel. Pine trees grew thick and tall, reaching toward the bright blue sky. Our pack mules were working hard, and we stopped several times to rest them.
As we traveled, we rarely spoke. The quiet gave me time tothink. It was so different from my life in 1929. I had space here to breathe, to contemplate what I wanted without being distracted by family and responsibilities and Spencer Hayes.
The sun was setting when we finally reached the fork in the Yuba River where Downieville, California, would one day exist. I hadn’t bothered with a sidesaddle, since there were few in California and it was safer riding astride. Every muscle in my body ached, and I had never longed for a hot bath and a feather bed so much in my life.
But the view was stunning. The river this late in the season ran peacefully as it pushed past boulders and hugged the edges of the banks.
“I could build a house here and die a happy man,” Sam said as we looked at the scene before us. “God must have had fun making California.”
I smiled. “It’s nice to be out here, away from everyone.”
“The crush of people in London and New York and San Francisco makes me forget places like this exist.”
“It won’t be long before William Downie will arrive, and then this will become another booming gold town.”
“It’s a shame.”
I inhaled the fresh air, loving the solitude of this place. “I’ve never really thought about living away from a large city before. In both of my paths, it’s all I’ve ever known, except for Concord, and we only lived there a couple of years. Before that, we were in Boston.” I had loved the peace and quiet of Concord.
Sam tore his gaze off the landscape and studied me. “Do you really think you could thrive in the mountains, far away from a big city?”
“It would take some getting used to, I’m sure.” I took another deep breath. “But it would be nice, especially in a place like this.”
“Let’s set up camp,” he said as he dismounted and walked over to me. He placed his hands on either side of my waist to lift me down.
