I nodded, and though my body was physically tired from the arduous journey into the mountains, sleeping on the hard earth, and riding the uncomfortable mule, my determination and excitement gave me energy.
Sam dismounted and began to pull his supplies off his mule. We’d brought picks, shovels, and pans. Some of the bigger companies of men we’d seen on the way up the mountain had rockers, which resembled cradles. They would shovel dirt and water into buckets and dump it in the rocker. As the rocker was swished back and forth, it would sift the rocks from the sand, allowing gold nuggets to sit on top of the screen. Larger operations would dam the rivers and get to the gold in the riverbeds, where it was most plentiful. But that took too much time and money, and we didn’t have the necessary manpower. We would try our luck with pans.
“The placer gold breaks away from the quartz veins in the mountains,” Sam told me, “and is carried downriver with the water. We’ll need to wade into the water and dig for it.” He nodded at my dress. “I don’t know what you can manage.”
“In 1929, the hems of women’s dresses are at the knees.”
The look of shock on Sam’s face made me laugh.
“You spent two years in a penal colony with the toughest criminals from England,” I said, “and then several months in Sydney Town, but the thought of a short hem makes you blush? Some women even wear trousers.”
This time his shock turned to disgust. “Women? In trousers? Do you wear them?”
“No.” I continued to laugh. “My father feels the same as you.”
“Good man.” He smiled.
“I’ll pull the hem up from the back and tuck it into the front of my belt.” I watched his reaction. “It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”
“I suppose there’s no other option.”
Smiling, I turned my back to him and made quick work of my skirt. We had purchased rubber waders before we left San Francisco, and I was already wearing them to protect my feet. I stood straight and put my hands on my hips, looking down at my strange outfit. Even though I was wearing my skirt pulled up like trousers and it would have been considered indecent back East, every inch of my skin was covered.
When I faced Sam again, he grinned. “You look like the furthest thing from a miner I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed as I readjusted the straw hat I wore to protect my face from the sun and picked up my shovel and pan. I was ready to find gold.
We started near the river’s edge. I stuck my shovel into the riverbed and hit hard rock. The shovel reverberated through my hands like a shock wave, sending pain up my arms.
Trying again, I moved the shovel and hit more rocks. “Where is the sand?”
Sam didn’t respond as he had more luck—or perhaps, strength—and lifted a shovel full of gravel and sand from the riverbed. He walked it to the shore where his pan sat and dumped it in.
I followed him, eager to see what he had found.
Bending over, he submerged the pan of sediment under the water and began to shake the pan back and forth. Loose dirt washed downstream as he broke apart clumps and then added more water, continually shaking the pan. “The idea is that the gold is heavier than the dirt, so it should settle to the bottom of the pan as the rest washes away.”
I watched, fascinated and hopeful.
He repeated the washing several times, removing pieces of rock, and then he paused.
“Ally, look.” He lifted a gold nugget about the size of a grape from the pan. I’d seen several of them at Bess’s Place and on our way to the Yuba River. I knew exactly what it was.
“Gold!” I said, my breath catching. “We did it!”
“We started to do it.” He chuckled and handed it over to me.
“It’s yours.” I pushed his hand back. “You found it.”
His brown eyes were gentle as he regarded me. “I’m not here to find gold.”
Frowning, I asked, “Then why did you come?”
The look in his eyes told me why he’d come. For me.
Warmth and affection filled my heart as he set the pan down and took my hand in his, turned it over, and softly laid the gold nugget onto my palm. “It’s all for you.”
Without thought, I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around him, grasping the gold in my fist. “Thank you,” I whispered, in wonder at this man.
