Chapter 32
My Decision and What Came of It

Even before Almeda was through talking, I knew what my decision was!

This was one time when I didn’t need to go out in the woods for a long time to think and try to figure things out. I knew what I wanted—and that was to keep writing! And if it meant working even harder than before and trying to make my writing better than it had been, I’d do it! If it meant getting only $1 an article, maybe I’d do that too. But then maybe I’d tell Mr. Kemble I wanted more. And if he said my articles weren’t good enough to pay more, then I’d make them good enough! I’d improve my writing. I’d practice. I’d learn.

How bad did I want to do what I’d dreamed of doing? I figured I wanted it bad enough to fight for it, just like Almeda had.

Within ten or fifteen minutes I was in the saddle and on my way back toward town. It was Saturday afternoon, a good time to interview some more people about the election. If my first article wasn’t good enough for Mr. Kemble, then I’d make my second one all the better—with facts and the five w’s and human interest all put together! I’d make it so interesting even he would enjoy reading it! And since I’d gotten behind during this last week, I couldn’t afford to waste another minute. Most of the people in town had seen Almeda’s flyer. Mr. Royce had put up a great big new banner on the side of his bank building just three days ago, which said in big letters and bright paint: ROYCE FOR MAYOR. MIRACLE SPRINGS’ FUTURE PROSPERITY DEPENDS ON YOUR VOTE. Folks were really interested and were talking a lot about everything. Now was the time to see everybody to get their thoughts and reactions while interest was high and they were willing to talk.

But about halfway into town a huge new idea suddenly hit me! It was such a great idea I completely forgot about Mr. Royce and Almeda and Miracle Springs in an instant. If I could write an article about someone really important, about news that was significant to the whole country, not just a little town like Miracle Springs, then Mr. Kemble would have to print it! And he’d see that I could be a reporter who could write about more than just pretty leaves and sunsets and interesting people nobody’d ever heard of.

I yanked back on the reins, swung my horse around on the trail, dug in my heels to her flanks, and galloped back to the house.

I ran straight inside and began searching through the pile of old newspapers Pa kept by the fireplace to start fires with. I hoped it was still there!

Then I remembered. I’d saved the August 8 issue with my own articles. I ran into my room. There it was, right with the others! Hurriedly I scanned through the paper until I found it. I read the brief article again, then went back into the big room where Pa and Almeda were sitting with puzzled expressions watching me scurry around.

“Look!” I exclaimed, pointing to the paper still in my hand. “It says right here that there is a controversy about Mr. Fremont’s estate, but it doesn’t say what it is. What if I could find out? That would sure be a story Mr. Kemble couldn’t refuse!”

“There ain’t no mystery there,” laughed Pa. “Everyone knows they been trying to claim jump and get his gold mines away from him ever since he found gold on his land.”

“Who, Pa? Who’s they?”

“His enemies, people who want his gold—neighbors, claim jumpers, drifters, Mexicans. Anybody who’s rich and powerful always has a pack of people trying to do him in, and John Fremont’s both. All this time he’s been back in Washington senatoring and now running for President, folks back here’s trying to get their hands on his gold.”

“But who, Pa?”

“I don’t know. I suppose there’s lots of ’em.”

“Well, I’m gonna go find out,” I said determinedly.

Pa laughed again. “What you figure on doin’, girl?” he said. “The man’s running for President of the United States! And you figure on uncovering some mystery about him that no one else knows?”

“I don’t know, Pa. It’s probably downright foolish—but I know there’s a story there. I can feel it! A story for me . . . if I can just find it!”

“And how you figure to find this story that’s waitin’ just for you?” I know the smile on Pa’s face wasn’t meant to be making fun of me, but at the same time he just couldn’t keep from chuckling. I was serious.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just go out there and start looking around. I guess maybe that’s what a reporter’s got to do sometimes, and maybe it’s time I learned how.”

“Go where—Mariposa? That’s a hundred and twenty, maybe a hundred and thirty miles.”

“Through the mountains,” added Almeda. “Through Sacramento and the valley roads, more like a hundred seventy-five.”

“If that’s what I gotta do for a story, then maybe that’s just what I gotta do.”

I reckon I’d been swept along in this conversation by the emotion of the moment. But the minute those words were out of my mouth, suddenly the reality of what I’d said seemed to strike us all. There was silence for a moment, and I guess somehow in the very saying of the words a determination rose up within me to do what I’d said, even if the words had been spoken lightly. I think Pa and Almeda realized, too, that a change had come in that instant. And maybe inside, both of them had to face how they were going to react to my growing up.

Almeda’s next words were not what you’d expect from a mother who was worried about what her son or daughter was about to do, and who wanted to talk them out of it.

“I think it’s a sensational idea, Corrie!” said Almeda. “If you are going to go after something and follow a dream you have, you might as well go straight to the top.”

Pa had been serious for a minute, but now he chuckled again. “You’re a determined one,” he said. “Once you make your mind up about something, I wouldn’t want to be the one standin’ in your way. But how do you figure on going all that way . . . how do you figure on findin’ something out that other folks don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” I answered again with all my innocent youthful enthusiasm. “I’ll find a way.”

“You want me to take you down there, maybe go with you?” he asked.

I hesitated a minute before answering. “I don’t know, Pa,” I said finally. “Something inside me wants to do this alone, though I’m afraid at the same time. Maybe one of you should go with me . . . if you could.” I was already starting to get cold feet about my idea.

A little frown passed over Almeda’s forehead and I could tell she was thinking. But the reply she gave startled me.

“I don’t think we ought to, Corrie,” she said after a minute. “This is your idea, and you’re the one who wants to go down there and uncover a story you think is waiting for you. I think it’s time you figured out the best way to go about it yourself. I can give you the names of good boarding houses all the way, people I know and that we can trust. But I think perhaps it’s time you saw what you were capable of. You can do it—I know you can.”

“It is a fearsome thing, to go so far alone, not even knowing what I am looking for, not even knowing who to talk to, not knowing if anybody will listen to me.” My earlier resolve was fading fast.

“They will listen to you, young lady. You can be very determined . . . and very persuasive! Besides, part of the process I was telling you about of fighting for your dream—part of it is learning to stand alone if you have to, facing the dangers and uncertainties, and learning to go where maybe no one else has gone in just the same way, or asking questions no one has voiced before. That’s part of growing up—finding your own inner strength with God. Something inside tells me this might be one of those times. If there’s a story there meant for you, then you have to be the one to find it.”

“I don’t know, Almeda,” said Pa. “I ain’t so sure I agree with you. There’s bears and varmints and who knows what kind of hoodlums all the way up an’ down that way. I don’t like it. I’ll go with her, just to keep an eye on things.”

Neither of us said anything more. From the sound of it, Pa had made up his mind, and I knew what he said was the logical way to look at it. So I was surprised the next morning when he announced that he’d changed his mind, and that if I wanted to make the trip alone, he wouldn’t forbid me. He’d still rather he or Zack went with me, but he’d trust me to make the decision.

Naturally I was fearful at first as I anticipated such a trip, such a quest for the unknown. Later I looked back at this as another one of those growing experiences. And I came to thank Pa and Almeda afterward for not doing it for me, for giving me encouragement but not actually helping me, and for forcing me not just to believe in what I wanted to do—but for forcing me to believe in myself too. Whatever I felt at the time, Pa and Almeda didn’t try to make it easy for me. They pushed me out from under their wings to go after this story—whatever it was!—by myself, showed me that they really did believe in me, and were ready to treat me like an adult. There’s just no other way to get your legs strong unless you stand on them without holding on to someone else. And that’s what I was about to do.

I would have to finish my interviews and articles about the Miracle Springs election for mayor later. Whatever was waiting for me at the Fremont estate, I figured it had more potential for being something that Mr. Kemble would take notice of.

Two days later, my decision had been made!

With saddlebags full of a week’s supply of food, and with blankets in case I couldn’t put up at a boardinghouse for any reason, I set off on my faithful horse Raspberry alone, headed for Sacramento.