PEG BOY (11 page)

Señor Martinez
had accepted the offer to lead the pack train because he had needed a grubstake
to get back to his claim. He would take them as far as the little town of
Columbia, on the river by the same name. There, his duties and responsibilities
would end. He had found gold and brought it back to San Francisco to deposit,
but gambling and whoring had relieved him of most of it. The remainder had been
stolen one night when he had stumbled out of a whorehouse with two women who
had led him to the nearest alley. There, three men in military uniforms had
pulled him into the alley and took the three remaining small sacks of gold dust
he had hidden in his drawers. Martinez was a hard worker when sober but his own
worst enemy, when drunk. He was knowledgeable and it was for this reason that
he had been sought out. Martinez had also agreed because most of those in the
train were Spanish.

Santiago
returned to the campsite one evening after having gone to the river with Rosa.
The water they carried back was incidental to the purpose of the journey. Don
Emilio sat by the fire, tying and retying knots he was trying to master.
Santiago said goodnight to Rosa and joined his father. The man looked sideways
at his son and smiled.

“Santiago, why
is it that although the river is no more than ten minutes away from here, it
takes you more than an hour to return with such a small amount of water? And
with two to carry, it does not seem that it would be such a task! Perhaps on
your return you are both too exhausted to carry more?”

Don Emilio
laughed as he slapped Santiago good-naturedly on the back.

“What do you
mean, father?”

“Santiago do
you think your father a fool? I am not too old to remember what I used to do
when I could get a señorita away by herself!”

“It does not
anger you?”

“No son. But
remember a good craftsman never begins the cut unless he knows what he is
carving and the quality of the material. No cut is made until he decides to
complete
the work. Do not whittle, my son, unless you know the results of your whittling
and intend to take responsibility for it.”

Santiago felt
the need to change the subject.

“Father, what
will we do when we reach Columbia?”

Don Emilio
smiled at how his son had sidestepped the issue and decided not to pursue it.

“Padre Juan
Carlos advised we travel further up river. He has drawn a map that he says was
shown to him by an old man who had stayed at the mission. The old man told him
he had found much gold and had come back to San Francisco for his son and
nephew to help with the excavation. When he arrived in town, he found that they
had left for the hills. The old man had fallen ill and died.

“You have the
map?”

Santiago was
surprised that he had had no knowledge of this. He wondered why his father had
waited until now to disclose it.

“I believe it
a valuable map, my son. I have folded it and keep it hidden beneath the lining
of my left shoe.”

“Why did the
priest give it to you?”

“Padre Juan
Carlos is not beyond being bitten by the gold bug. The excitement of what is
going on has sparked his interest. He would love to go into the hills with the
men. He is unable to do so. Perhaps he saw his opportunity to obtain some
wealth in a different manner. I made him a promise that if the Blessed Virgin
smiled upon us and helped us find this place, I would share whatever we found,
with him. I would also give a good sum to the church. It is a promise that we
must both share. Santiago if I am not here to do so, you fulfill it.”

“I will,
Father. But I wish that you would stop talking as though you expected to die,
for it is not how we should be thinking. And this makes me very uneasy.”

“I know son
but we must be prepared for any event! We will discuss this at another time,
but for now know that I place great trust in you. And this trust must be based
on my knowing that you will be able to care for yourself.

“Now, about
the map and where we should look…,”

“Will we go to
this place alone or will we take someone with us?”

Don Emilio
eyed his son. “Would you be asking if a certain young lady could accompany us?
No, we will need to do this alone. Too many eyes and ears invite trouble,
Santiago. I have heard many stories these past nights while you were out in the
woods collecting water.”

Don Emilio
spoke in a serious tone.

“The warmth of
a campfire and the warmth of a bottle seem to loosen men’s tongues. What I have
heard has not pleased me. Many men are in the hills not to find their own
riches but to take it from those who work hard to get it. They kill them and
claim the find as their own.”

‘What would we
do if that happens?” Santiago began to get frightened.

“I would
fight, my son. And you must also. It is why I have bought two pistols. When we
arrive in Columbia we will spend time learning how to use them well.”

“You have
bought one for me?”

“We will
each
need to defend what is ours!”

Santiago had
seen almost all men wearing firearms and he had wished one of his own. He
wondered how it would feel and what it would be like to carry a pistol on his hip.

“Could we not
learn how to use them now? I would like to have mine.”

“These are not
to be taken as playthings. We will wear and use them only when we are near the
danger. It is too easy to resort to the use of one when an argument occurs.
Remember the woman and the two men?”

Santiago
mentioned no more about it. He knew his father would bring out the weapons when
he felt it right.

Each day they
traveled farther east Santiago, noticed the hills growing steeper and the air,
colder. The trail Señor Martinez followed was well worn. They passed many
prospectors going in the same direction and still others who were coming back.
Those who were coming from the hills were all of the same opinion; the work was
hard and in the end the effort was not worth the possibility of getting killed.
They told of many who went into the mountains, never to be seen again. Some
were found by other prospectors, their bodies riddled with bullets and
partially eaten by wolves.

The pack-train
passed numerous small settlements and all were aware of their approach as news
traveled fast along the trail. They felt the animosity as they were shunned or
refused service. It was believed that the new foreigners were coming to take
the gold that rightfully belonged to the Americans. On three occasions the camp
was ambushed and the mules and horses scattered in the late night hours. Twice
they found the trail blocked by large trees that had been purposely felled. Yet
they would not be deterred.

Santiago and
his father worked hard to learn the new language. Many of the group could speak
English and they offered help to those who could not. Classes were held at the
campfire in the evening. Rose spoke English well enough to be understood. She
helped Santiago and his father. She insisted they speak
only
English
when they were together. Santiago liked speaking the language and he often rebuked
his father when the man lapsed into his native tongue.

“What has the
world come to when a father is reprimanded by his own son!” Don Emilio laughed
as he jokingly admonished him.

Each day that
passed brought father and son closer. Don Emilio’s admiration for Santiago
increased. There was nothing the boy seemed unwilling to learn, and he learned
rapidly. He was well liked by most because of his good nature and friendly
smile. Some of the men had first thought of him as weak due to his slight build
and moody, almost feminine disposition. With the regimen of daily work he grew
in size so that his body became more beautiful. The shoulders grew broader and
his chest became more defined. The plumpness of youth fell away and taut
muscles rippled beneath his skin.

It was not by
chance that he often worked without his shirt. He received a deep satisfaction
from knowing there were those who looked for this display. Santiago was aware
of his own beauty and used it to his advantage. He was always welcomed at any of
the campsite fires and fed well by those who had become his friends. He felt
sadness that these friendships would come to an end when it became necessary to
break from the group.

T
hey
arrived in Columbia on the 20th of March. The pack train had averaged twenty
miles each day with little difficulty within the group. Attempts had been made
to slow or stop. Mules and horses had been run off in the middle of the night
and it had taken days to round them up. At one point along the river where they
had expected to cross, the bridge had been destroyed and it took three days to
rebuild it.

These
vicissitudes resulted in an even tighter bond between them. Many formed
friendships and several spoke of plans to form partnerships. They believed it
safer to work together and share the profits than to risk working alone and not
having the strength to protect one’s property. Don Emilio had been approached
by Rosa’s father to join a group he had formed. Don Emilio thanked him and said
that he and his son preferred to work alone.

The town of
Columbia had begun as a bend in the river where gold was found to be in
plentiful supply. It became a boom town overnight and the sound of banging and
pounding blended with the riotous noises of the salons and dance halls so that
it continued from one day to the next uninterrupted. Those who could, slept
whenever they could find the time or a moment of peace.

Calling it a
town was just a means of dealing with its location. There seemed to be little
permanence to the place. The trail out of the woods became its main street.
Shacks, hotels, saloons, and other buildings of various purposes lined both
sides. The river flowed on its southern end, a few hundred yards away. One of
the more permanent buildings was the Government Assayer’s Office. Here, gold
nuggets and dust were weighed and valued and the location of promising claims
could be filed and registered.

The elevation
of the area was such that snow fell daily. They had begun to find snow in the
foothills and as they had climbed higher, flurries had turned into blinding
snowstorms. Some had not realized the extent of the cold and had not been
prepared, having to borrow or buy heavier clothing. Others made jackets of
their blankets.

The Columbia
River did not flow swiftly at this time of year. Much of the moisture falling
in the mountains did not melt until the months of May and June. Water in the
river was low, and much of the bank was exposed. Because the ground was frozen,
digging was difficult and it was continued around the clock. Many worked in
shifts, sometimes separated by only a few feet from each other. It was
back-breaking work, standing in ice water for hours with the wind relentlessly
blowing so that face and hands froze and all sense of feeling was lost. Many
prospectors drank alcohol continuously to drive away the cold and numbness. It
was not uncommon to see fingers and toes missing due to frostbite. The hours
spent with back bent, digging and panning were excruciating. Sometimes the ten
or thirteen hours would take its toll and a man would fall into the water from
exhaustion. When this happened the body might be left to freeze until someone
could take the time to bring it back to town for burial. The river had its
price! Fires blazed on shore and digging continued throughout the night by the
light of kerosene lanterns. Because of the continuous drinking and inclement
weather, tempers were short and conflicts developed easily, often settled by
one gunshot.

At larger
operations men shoveled tons of earth into sluice boxes. Water poured down a
chute to spill over the material. Men worked the sifters that washed off the
lighter material of silt and sand, leaving the heavier rocks and finally the
heaviest element, gold. They worked in blazing sun, downpours of rain, and
throughout the night. Nothing deterred them except the calls of nature.

Santiago had
never seen so many people in so small an area, except on board ship. He was not
used to seeing so many nationalities and hearing so many tongues. His head
reeled with the inability to understand. Camps scattered in outlying areas were
of groups according to nationalities. Factions existed and tensions ran high.
There were quarrels along the river at all times of day and night and the sound
of gunfire was common. During the first three day the Calis were in Columbia,
four men were killed. The first night after they had set up camp, Don Emilio
brought out the cloth sack and took out two pistols. He handed one to Santiago
and gave him a leather holster that could be worn around the waist.

“Tomorrow we
go into the woods and you will learn to shoot!”

That evening
Santiago left to get water. Although there were no bullets in it, the gun was
at his side. Well off the trail, he waited for Rosa. Soon he heard her footsteps
and called her name. Together they went to a shelter they had discovered the
previous day, where they had left a blanket. The warmth of their bodies was
sufficient to keep them comfortable even in the cold night air so long as they
did not take too long to make love.

“Father will
break camp and leave tomorrow,” she said. “I wish your father would have agreed
to join us. Why did he not want to do so?”

Santiago knew
he could say nothing about the map. “My father is a man who likes to be alone
and on his own. He does not work well with others and has always been his own
master. We will do better alone!”

“But Santiago,
I will miss you so much! I will especially miss this!”

Rosa held his
penis, the flesh feeling silken-smooth in her hand. She could sense the
pounding of his heart in it.

“To have grown
accustomed to this makes anything less, a poor substitute!”

With fondness
she held him.

“In a few days
you will have forgotten me, Rosa. There will be someone else to get your
attention.”

“None will
compare in beauty and size to you, my stallion. Have you seen other men...,
they are an ugly lot..., smelling of sweat and grease. They disgust me. No
Santiago, there will be no other to compare to you.”

“Perhaps we
will see each other from time to time?”

He hoped this
would be so. He had enjoyed her and he liked what she did to him when they made
love. She had begun to take him in her mouth and other places, still, at no
time did their experience compare with those he had shared with Fidel. Would
anything ever equal those?

The air grew
colder. Clouds had drifted in during the late afternoon and it would snow by
morning. Rosa was reluctant to let him go, but she knew there was nothing she
could do that would stop his departure. They parted with a promise to look for
each other and to leave messages with the man at the assayer’s office.

Rosa walked
back to camp alone. Santiago said he would stay behind as he wanted time to
think. When the clouds broke he could see the stars as the moon shone a
brilliant white. He wondered why he was not unhappy about leaving Rosa, and he
sensed relief.

There was a
sense of anticipation for what the coming days would bring. His eyes followed
the path of fast-drifting clouds as many memories and faces passed through his
mind. One moment he had been tracing the blackness of the shapes as they
crossed a full moon and in the next, he became aware that much time had passed
and that he had fallen asleep. He was very cold, still naked beneath the
blanket. Santiago dressed and brought the blanket with him. There would be no
further need for it there.

Don Emilio
woke when he felt his son crawling beneath the covers and pressing himself
against him.

“Santiago, you
either went a very long way to find water or you had a long and satisfying
good-bye with your Rosa!”

“You knew?”

Don Emilio
chuckled as he settled himself for sleep. “Why do all sons think their fathers
fools?”

“But father,
I..., “

“No more need
be said, Santiago. I thought my father one as well. Goodnight, son. Sleep well!
Tomorrow we will spend much time learning to use the pistols. I hope you can
use the one on your hip as well as you have used the one between your legs...”

Santiago
remained silent and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Snow had
fallen during the night, but only enough to cover tracks and it had left a soft
whiteness in the trees. They walked far enough away from the camp so the sound
of gunfire would not be heard in town. They used branches, pieces of bark, and
small patches of cloth as targets. Don Emilio had fired a pistol before and was
able to show his son the fundamentals. The precision and accuracy would come
with practice and patience. By afternoon, Santiago was hitting the things he
aimed to hit even if the shot was not always where he had wanted it to be. By
the time they were ready to leave in the evening when the sun began to set,
Santiago could use the pistol adequately for defense.

Two days after
they arrived in Columbia, they packed the mule and began the journey north. Don
Emilio had studied the map with his son. In the light of a lantern they had
traced the course of the river. The map contained numerous references to
identify where the strike had been made. A trail would lead them from Columbia
to a place called Long Barn. Near this place they would find signs left by the
old man, to mark the spot where he had found the gold.

Long Barn
was not a name they had heard mentioned by anyone and they were concerned about
asking of its whereabouts less they cause unnecessary curiosity. Don Emilio
wondered if the place might have been a figment of the old man’s imagination.
He thought it best to ask the government agent, for surely he could be trusted!

Santiago stood
watch for most of the morning, waiting for the agent’s office to clear of
people. When he saw the agent alone he ran to the saloon and informed his
father. In broken English Don Emilio asked if he could have a moment of the
agent’s time in private. The agent’s interest was piqued and he led them to the
rear of the building after placing a sign on the door that the office was
closed. Don Emilio edged about the topic of his discussion, trying to assess
the man for some sign of security and reliability, wondering just how much
trust he could place in him.

Samuel Stilman
knew enough Spanish to converse. He made it easier for the man to speak by
leading him, as Stilman had a
feel
for these situations. Yes, there was
a Long Barn several miles upriver from Columbia. No, he had not heard of much
activity there but there had been gold found in the area. Stilman noticed the
man’s edginess. He could tell the man and boy were newcomers. The boy was young
and handsome, a lad keenly aware of how he was being scrutinized! Stilman
wondered if the older man was the boy’s father or..., no, there were too many
similarities in their looks. Strikingly beautiful, the boy was almost too
pretty..., yet he was definitely masculine..., Stilman had noticed the evidence
of his sex when he had entered and knew the boy had noticed his interest.

Samuel was an
attractive man and he had been around enough to know he was being desired. He
saw the slight trace of a smile on the boy’s lips when he had caught him
looking at his crotch. The boy sad sat spread-legged beside the fire and his
eyes had dropped, but not before he saw Stilman return his interest with a
glance in the direction of his own groin. Not a word had been spoken but all
was understood. Stilman filed the boy’s face in his mental catalogue as someone
to remember. There would be opportunities, he had no doubt. The nights were
long between boys! Not many had been in these parts. Of those who came, few
were worth the effort.

Samuel Stilman
detested his job. He hated the assignment in this god-forsaken hole! Because he
had been the newest and youngest member of the department, the outpost had been
his first assignment. The only factor that made the assignment tolerable was
his association with a few men who had decided it was easier to claim-jump than
to work the claims themselves. Samuel had cooperated in several schemes and had
changed the records to show claims as having been filed by the thieves. The
original names disappeared as quickly as the bodies.

“If there is
someone you are seeking there, perhaps I will know their names?”

Don Emilio
nodded. “I look for no one. It is a place that I was told would be good to
search.”

Stilman
watched the man, skeptically. “Then why not stay here? There are many who are
being lucky right here in Columbia?”

“Too many
people, here!”

Santiago had
seated himself so that Stilman was offered an excellent view of his best asset.
The agent noted the incongruity of the lad carrying the pistol at his side and
the shape of something else against his thigh. What he would not give to have
this boy by his side for just one night!

Santiago felt
uncomfortable the longer they stayed. Something in the man’s eyes disturbed him
and he wished he had not provoked him. When Stilman saw the man would not
divulge more information and he
knew
there was more, he understood there
was no more to gain by pressing the matter. He had become an expert at
detecting lies.

“I wish you
well, my friends. I hope I will have the pleasure of telling you in the future,
that you are both rich. Perhaps you and your partners will become famous.”

Don Emilio
stood to leave. “We work alone. My son is my partner!”

Stilman smiled
graciously as he led them to the door. His arm was across Santiago’s shoulder
and he looked into the boy’s eyes and winked, squeezing his arm.

“You are a
lucky man, Mr. Cali, to have such a wonderful son.”

As he watched
them walk away, Stilman thought, “...the fewer the partners, the easier the
disposal.”

It became
obvious that the map had been drawn with little effort to accuracy. Few of the
geographical features corresponded to those they encountered. The river twisted
and turned, yet the map showed it flowing with little change in direction. The
map called for two outstanding features that would mark the site of the claim,
where they were supposed to find several bags of buried gold. It spoke of a
peak in the north that would have the outline of an eagle’s head. Directly
below the formation would be an outcropping of rock of some light color that
would appear as though the rock had been painted white. Don Emilio worried just
how obvious this light color would appear in the surrounding snow?