Chapter 75: A Letter and a Bill of Sale
Mac worried how Jenny would respond to his proposal. He’d taken her into the wilderness away from her mother, abandoned her in Oregon, thrown her at Zeke, told her he’d never return. And now? Now he wanted her beside him for the rest of his life.
He’d always wanted her, he realized to his chagrin, almost since the day they’d met. She first attracted him with her bravery despite the stones life had thrown at her. Then she captivated him with her cheerfulness and calm amidst their struggles to survive in the desert and mountains. He’d tamped down his desire for her in response to her declarations of independence. He hadn’t understood how much he wanted her until he’d been forced to picture her marrying Zeke.
He hoped he wouldn’t be too late.
That evening Mac wrote his letter:
August 11, 1850
Dear Jenny,
I’m heading to Oregon as soon as I can. I have a store to sell, but then I will return.
If you will have me, I want to marry you. In truth, this time. I want to live with you and William and any children we might have in happiness and love.
I also bring an adopted daughter, Maria, whom I hope you will welcome into your heart.
Wait for me. Please.
My deepest affections,
Mac
In the morning he delivered his letter to the captain of the Robert Samuels, a schooner bound for Oregon. He also booked passage for himself, Maria, and Valiente on another ship scheduled to head north from San Francisco within weeks. He still had to sell his store and figure out how to care for Maria on the voyage.
But he would be anxious every moment until he saw Jenny again.
Back in Sacramento, Mac had supper with Joel in the Golden Nugget. He asked Joel if he wanted to buy the store.
“No, indeed,” Joel said. “Don’t want to be tied down. Taking on the gold transport is a great adventure, but you won’t find me spending my days behind a counter.”
“Would you sell the store to me?” Ethel asked, when she brought them a bottle of whiskey.
“You want it?” Mac looked up in surprise.
“Never saw myself growin’ old as a whore,” Ethel said. “Consuela should have taken you up on your offer to keep workin’ for you. She’d be alive if she had.”
“What do you know about accounts?” Mac asked.
Ethel shrugged. “I can add and subtract. What more do I need to know?”
“How much can you pay?” Truth be told, Mac didn’t care. Nate had indicated a willingness to take the store off his hands if need be, but Mac liked Ethel. He’d appreciated her straight-forward bluntness ever since she helped Consuela during Maria’s birth. He’d gladly give her the store to get rid of it.
The saloon manager motioned Ethel to return to work. “I can’t talk now, but I’ll come see you in the mornin’,” she said.
Ethel was at the store promptly when it opened. “What are you askin’ for the buildin’ and goods?”
“I figure it’s worth twenty-five thousand dollars. How much can you pay down?”
“Five thousand.”
Mac raised his eyebrows, surprised she’d saved that much at the Golden Nugget.
“I know the value of a dollar, Mr. McDougall, even if most miners in these parts don’t.”
He did a quick calculation. “Pay me your five thousand down, and four hundred per month for five years.”
“Five thousand now, then two hundred a month over ten years,” she countered.
Mac didn’t care what Ethel paid but enjoyed the dickering. He questioned her about her knowledge of bookkeeping and the goods in the store. His young clerk now handled the books and inventory pretty well, but she would need to provide oversight.
Once he confirmed she understood the basics of maintaining inventory and accounts, he decided not to press hard on the terms. “Your down payment and three hundred dollars over seven years.”
“Two-seventy-five over the seven years,” she responded immediately. “I’m good for the money, you stingy Bostonian.”
Mac grinned, stuck out his hand, and she shook it. “Sold,” he said. “I’ll draft up a contract. Now help me figure out what to do about Maria.”
“That’s a harder problem than runnin’ a damn store,” Ethel said. “Indian woman carin’ for her now don’t speak English. You don’t want to take her to Oregon, do you?”
“It doesn’t seem right to take her so far away from her tribe,” Mac said. “Can we find another wet nurse willing to go to Oregon?”
“How old is Maria now? Could she do without milk?”
Mac had no idea how long babies needed milk. “She’ll be about five-and-a-half months when we leave. She’d do best on milk, wouldn’t she?”
“Be easier to buy a cow than find a wet nurse,” Ethel said. “With the cow around, any woman can care for her.”
“Or I could tend to her myself,” Mac said.
Ethel looked at him in surprise. “You’d change her diapers? Wash her laundry? Feed her from a bottle?”
“If I had to.”
“You done it before?”
“I’ve changed diapers. Though not very often.” Mac had mostly left William to Jenny. And the Indian girl took care of Maria’s needs.
“Best let me see if I can find a cow. And a woman goin’ to Oregon.” Ethel’s voice showed her skepticism of Mac’s ability to care for an infant.
That evening Mac wrote:
August 16, 1850. I have sold my store to Ethel. I am eager to leave California, but still must provide for Maria.
Over the next two weeks, while he waited for his ship, Mac taught Ethel how to run the store. They signed the bill of sale he drafted, then he bought her dinner at the Golden Nugget to celebrate, smoking cigars with her after the meal, like he had with Nate.
Mac also took a last trip out to the mining camp where the Tanners lived and Joel still prospected part-time.
“I’m returning to Oregon,” Mac told Tanner and Hatty, who was obviously with child again. Mac refrained from any comment, not wanting to remind her of her earlier losses.
“I always knew you would,” Hatty said with a grin. “But it sure took you long enough to git around to it. Miz Jenny and your boy will be mighty glad to see you.”
“Now, Hatty,” Mac said. “You know I’m not as smart as you.”
“You surely ain’t, Captain McDougall. Or you’d never have left your wife alone so long.”
“Do you think she’ll have me back?”
“What choice do a woman got?” Hatty said. “If her husband come home, what can she do if she don’t want him?”
So Hatty didn’t know Mac and Jenny weren’t married. He’d wondered if Joel had told them. Mac kept his mouth shut. The fewer people who knew, the better. He hoped to remedy his past failure immediately upon reaching Oregon.
“If you ever need anything, you let me know,” he told Tanner, holding out his hand for the man to shake. “I’ll help you however I can.”
“Since Negroes can’t own property in California, no more’n in Oregon,” Tanner said. “I’m obliged to you and Joel Pershing for givin’ me a place and not chargin’ me rent.”
“You earned our support on our journey west,” Mac said. “And you’re earning your way here in California, you and Hatty.”
“I wish you and Miz Jenny much happiness,” Hatty said, while Mac saddled Valiente to return to Sacramento. “You and your children.”
Children, Mac thought, beginning the long ride back to town. He and Jenny would start their life together with two children—William who was Jenny’s only, and Maria who was an orphan. What other children might they have together? Several, he hoped, and he smiled all day thinking about building a family with Jenny.