Chapter 11: Partners

 

“Mac.” A voice called his name as he rode Valiente down the muddy street out of Sutter’s Fort, leading his pack mule behind him. “Mac McDougall.”

He turned. Joel Pershing trotted toward him on horseback, also leading a mule. Joel would know how Jenny was. “Joel, what are you doing here?” Mac exclaimed in surprise. “When’d you leave Oregon? How’s Jenny? And William?”

“They was fine when I left six weeks ago,” Joel said. “I’m here for the gold. I was on the Siskiyou Trail, when I heard rumors of gold lying on the ground everywhere ’round here. I’d planned on going to San Francisco, but decided to come straight to the gold fields. Search for some color myself. What’re you doing here? Thought you was headed for Boston.”

“I’ve been prospecting,” Mac said. “You said Jenny was well when you left her?”

Joel waved vaguely. “She’s fine. I hear mountains east of here supposed to be rich.”

“Yes.” Mac squinted. Joel had been a reliable scout on the trail to Oregon, though surlier than his older brother Zeke. Mac thought he could trust him. “I found gold to the northeast,” Mac said. “It’s a good site, more creek to pan than I can handle by myself. I could use a partner.”

“I don’t have any money. Can’t buy in.”

“Nothing to buy. Land’s free.” Mac shrugged. “I’ll keep the gold I’ve found so far. We’ll share going forward. We can each stake a claim, then work together. You can buy me out if you want when I leave for the East.”

“What about provisions?” Joel asked.

“I stocked up.” Mac gestured at the mule behind Valiente. “Bought enough food for a few weeks. With two of us, we can take time to hunt and fish. And it’ll be easier to travel back to the fort for supplies.”

“I wrote Pa last night, so he’ll know I made it this far. I’m ready.” Joel grinned.

The two men started the two-day trek to the creek where Mac had found gold. Joel asked Mac countless questions, some of which Mac couldn’t answer. “I’m a greenhorn still,” he said. “Just lucky so far.”

Mac probed for details about Jenny and William, but Joel couldn’t tell him much.

When they reached the valley and stream where Mac had panned before, Joel looked around. “Purty land,” he said.

“It’s full of gold. High quality, the assayer told me.”

They set up camp, and Mac showed Joel where he’d found the first nugget. “Biggest rock came from here. But I found smaller ones up and down the stream. And lots of flakes.”

“Have you staked out a claim?” Joel asked.

Mac shook his head. “Didn’t decide to stay until I was at Sutter’s Fort. But now I’ve decided to keep prospecting through the fall. Go back to Boston next year.”

“What about Miz Jenny?” Joel asked.

Mac’s stomach tightened. He would have to confess to Joel, or the younger man wouldn’t believe why Mac had left Jenny behind. “We weren’t married. I have no reason to return to Oregon.”

Joel’s jaw dropped. “Weren’t married? But what about the baby?”

“Not mine.”

Staring at Mac, Joel took off his hat and scratched his head.

“You can’t let on to anyone in Oregon,” Mac pleaded. “I don’t want Jenny hurt. She’s been through enough.” But he didn’t explain further. There were limits to what he would tell Joel.

“No one else knows?”

“The Tullers do.”

Joel shook his head. “A woman is trouble enough when she’s your wife. Don’t know why you’d take one on otherwise.”

“Jenny needed help. And a home. There wasn’t anything for her in Missouri.” Mac hoped that summary would satisfy Joel. And he hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake in telling Joel as much as he had.

“You seemed plenty sweet on her. And did all right by her baby, too.”

Mac lifted a shoulder silently.

“And now you’ve left her.” Joel frowned. “Does Zeke know?”

“No.” Mac sighed. “Not unless Jenny told him.”

“She hadn’t when I left Oregon,” Joel said. “Or he’d marry her right quick.”

Mac swallowed a burst of anger. After all, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He’d told Jenny to marry Zeke himself.

“Damnedest thing I ever heard,” Joel said, shaking his head and frowning again.

That evening across the fire from Joel, Mac wrote:

 

June 7, 1848. Back on the creek where I found the gold. Joel Pershing has joined me. I told him the truth about Jenny, and now I fear he will let it slip. I’ve never worked with a partner before.

Mac and Joel staked out their ground the day after they arrived at the creek. “I’ll claim this stretch where I found my nugget,” Mac said, pointing at the stream. “You can go upriver or down.”

“Does it matter?” Joel asked.

“Hell if I know,” Mac said with a shrug.

“Then I’ll go upstream.”

They pounded sharpened tree limbs into the ground and piled rocks around them. Each man claimed about thirty feet of creek bed and from the water back to the ridge behind them.

“We’ll build a shelter on my claim,” Mac said. “Graze the horses and mules on the meadow back of yours.”

A few days later, Mac assessed their partnership:

 

June 15, 1848. Working with Joel feels like traveling on the trail last year. He was a taciturn but amiable companion then, and he remains the same.

 

Mac showed Joel how to pan for gold in the water and explained how he shoveled dirt from the nearby shore into piles for panning. They dug in the sand and gravel along the banks from dawn until twilight. With two of them working, they scooped big holes in the creek and pockmarked the dry land above the water looking for nuggets. In the evenings they cooked, talked of the dust and nuggets they’d found during the day, and planned their diggings for the day ahead.

“Sure wish we could get title to the land,” Joel said. “Ain’t it strange we left Oregon City, and that’s the only place to file a California land claim?”

Some days one partner went hunting in the morning, leaving the other man panning alone, rifle at hand.

Yet despite their easy camaraderie, the relationship between the men changed from the year before in the wagon company. “You ain’t boss now, Mac,” Joel snarled one day when Mac directed him where to pan. “We’re partners.”

Joel seemed like only a lad—at nineteen, he was several years younger than Mac’s twenty-seven. But Mac supposed he had a point. As wagon captain, Mac had given orders to Joel and the other scouts. But here in California, they’d agreed—share and share alike on the gold they found. Although they’d staked two claims, they worked the land together.

So to keep the peace, Mac tried to make requests of Joel rather than issue orders.

Summer days in California, even in the mountains, were almost always warm and bright. The water was cold on their hands and legs as they panned, but the sun beat on their backs all day.

They built a rough shed of pine planks on the ridge above the creek where a meadow opened to the sky. Wildflowers sprinkled the grasses around the shed, breezes whispered through tall pines, and the creek babbled without end.

The small shack held their belongings and provided a place to sleep during the rare rains. It was about ten feet square, with wood bunks on one wall and shelves on another. A rude door and no windows. No stove or fireplace, so they cooked outside. They spent little time in the shed and usually slept under the stars.

The hill country was beautiful—as pretty as any place Mac had seen in his travels. But the work was backbreaking. Stooping and shoveling all day, cold feet and scorched heads. Perhaps working at a desk all day had some advantages, he thought one night as he crawled into his bedroll.

After a few weeks Joel made a trip back to Sutter’s Fort for supplies and to have their findings assayed and deposited. On the evening after Joel left, Mac wrote:

 

July 2, 1848. Joel is headed to the fort, and I am alone on our claim. He is good company, but I wonder how long our partnership will last. Which of us will tire of this work first and when?