The Claim (10 page)

Mr. Russell stood up and glared at the man with the gold tooth. “This here feller stole my whiskey. Caught him rolling it away last night.”

“And that would be the barrel I see before me?” Mr. Swan queried.

“Yep, that thar’s the barrel,” Mr. Russell said, and spit a wad of tobacco. “It’s got my mark on the bottom.”

The crowd rumbled angrily.

“Very good. And what happened when you caught him?” Mr. Swan prompted.

“Well, I had my rifle on me, so I jest stuck it in his back and locked him in my cowshed. Ain’t no jail on the bay anyhow.”

That was true enough. The usual punishment for offenders was banishment, which generally worked. Except when they returned, as in Hairy Bill’s case.

“It ain’t right, I tell you!” the man called Bowman howled. “Putting a fella in with a cow. Ain’t civilized at all.”

“Seems to me Burton got the bad end of the stick. Can’t rightly see how she got a lick of sleep all night with you hollerin’,” Mr. Russell said.

It did sound rather inhumane. Burton the cow was a snappish beast who had once bitten off a chunk of my hair when I tried to milk her. I couldn’t imagine having to spend the night in the shed with that animal.

“I wasn’t stealing nothing. You can’t prove it!” Bowman shouted.

“I can prove a lot with this,” Mr. Russell growled, brandishing his rifle.

“I tell ya I didn’t steal that thar whiskey!” Bowman said in righteous indignation. “Fact is, I
caught
the feller who was stealing it. Why, I was jest bringing it back to ya!”

“My good man, you shall have an opportunity to speak in due time,” Mr. Swan said.

Mr. Russell snorted at Bowman’s flimsy defense. “Then why were ya going in the opposite direction?”

The man reddened, and then his eyes narrowed. “I’m new here and don’t know my way around. And ’sides, it was dark, and I couldn’t see hide nor hair of anything.”

“Ya saw my whiskey jest fine,” Mr. Russell said scornfully.

“I tell ya I was bringin’ it back, not stealin’ it!” Bowman shouted.

“Yar a thief, and a liar,” Mr. Russell said, and there were assenting murmurs from the crowd.

“They’re gonna hang ’im!” Willard whispered to me.

A sly gleam entered the doomed man’s eye. “An Injun was stealing it! Why, I’d jest scared him off when you came along.”

The crowd went hush-quiet at this pronouncement.

“Really, sir,” Mr. Swan began uncomfortably.

Bowman turned in his chair, craning his neck, looking desperately into the crowd, eyes scanning the room. “Why, it was that Injun right there!”

I gasped.

The man was pointing at Keer-ukso!

“That is preposterous,” Mr. Swan sputtered.

“It was that Injun there. The tall one!” the man shouted, his bald head bobbing enthusiastically.

And in that moment it was as if the entire room turned at once to stare at Keer-ukso. I saw murmured suspicion roll through the crowd, like an unstoppable wave, from man to man.

“Do you have any witnesses?” Mr. Swan asked.

“You bet I do! I got two good eyes, and they both saw that there Injun steal the whiskey!” Bowman shouted.

“You are lying,” Keer-ukso spit.

Jehu stared at the accused man. “Keer-ukso was helping me fix my roof last night. He wasn’t anywhere near Russell’s cabin.”

“You know how crazy those Injuns are for whiskey!” Bowman insisted.

There was a long, hushed silence in the room, and Keer-ukso stood perfectly still as eyes roamed over him.

“I believe Mr. Bowman has a point,” William said. “And what kind of community is this that we take the word of a savage over that of an honest settler?”

I saw Keer-ukso flinch at these words. It was more than I could take.

“An honest settler?” I cried. “We don’t even know who he is! Furthermore, that man was behind the hotel the other evening trying to steal
our
whiskey. And he would have taken it, too, if I hadn’t caught him!”

“You tell him, gal!” Red Charley shouted.

“Miss Peck,” William said, “I don’t believe this is a matter of concern for young ladies.”

I was shocked to be upbraided by William so publicly. And he wasn’t the only one who thought my outspokenness was inappropriate. I received a dark look from Mr. Biddle as well.

“Furthermore,” William declared, “I assure you that these raids by local Indians will continue unless we do something about them immediately. There have been reports of Indian uprisings throughout the territory. In fact, I believe we should
begin building a fort to protect ourselves from future attacks, and arm all men—”

“Now, that’s enough!” M’Carty shouted, banging his rifle on the floor. He leaped to his feet and whirled on the crowd.

“On what authority do you speak, sir?” William demanded.

“On the authority of me being here before you, that’s what authority,” M’Carty said, glaring at William, and in an instant the crowd shifted.

William stood his ground. “I am the governor’s man, and—”

“I know who you are, Baldt, and I don’t care one bit,” M’Carty interrupted him. “We don’t cotton to interlopers coming and telling us what to do, you hear me? We make our own law round here.”

Hoots and cheers broke out at this, and William’s expression tightened.

M’Carty looked out at the crowd. “Besides Russell, I’ve been here the longest, and you all know how I feel about these things. Now, if Russell and Jane say that this here feller stole the whiskey, then it seems good sense that we take their word for it.”

“But that Injun stole the whiskey!” Bowman protested.

“Feller, I don’t know what rock you crawled out from under, but I do know one thing, and it’s that you’ve got a real slimy tongue,” M’Carty said. “Now, you better believe me when I tell you Russell and I have scared off our share of grizzly bears and you don’t hold a candle to them.”

“Least the bears smell better,” said Mr. Russell with a chuckle.

There was nervous laughter from the crowd.

M’Carty looked around the store. “All you folks know that we haven’t had any trouble with the Indians. Fact is, most of you wouldn’t have two coins to rub together if they hadn’t helped you with your oyster beds.”

Bowman’s eyes fixed on Cocumb, who was sitting close to her husband. He pointed at her and said with a hint of desperation in his voice, “Can’t trust a man who lies down with savages!”

M’Carty had his rifle up and under the fellow’s chin so fast that no one breathed.

“Let me tell you something, feller. In case you don’t got eyes, that beautiful woman is my wife, and that gentleman you accused is my family, and when you go after them, you’re going after me. So you better think twice before you start spouting wild accusations, because I’m not about to let a lying, no-account fellow like you go around hurting my people. You got that? And they are
my people
,” M’Carty said in a dangerously low voice.

Little beads of sweat broke out on Bowman’s forehead.

“I’ve said my piece,” M’Carty said after a long moment, and sat down, wrapping a comforting arm around Cocumb.

But some indefinable thing had happened, and while I could see that most in the room took M’Carty’s word, I also saw skepticism on a few faces.

“Thank you, M’Carty,” Mr. Swan said. “I’m afraid, sir, that if you have no other witnesses to present, then I shall have to make my ruling.” He stared at Bowman, but the man just shook his head. “Very well. It is clear to me based on the testimony of Mr. Russell and Miss Peck that the accused is guilty of the charges against him.”

Bowman muttered, “It ain’t right.”

“Now,” Mr. Swan began. “I am inclined to be lenient as this is a first offense. And also because no harm came to the whiskey. It would be another matter entirely if the whiskey had been drunk.” He grinned.

The men in the room chuckled.

Mr. Swan regarded the accused. “Mr. Bowman, you are hereby sentenced to spend one night in jail. But as we have no jail, and you did spend one night in Mr. Russell’s cowshed, it shall be considered time served. Therefore, I am ordering you to depart Shoalwater Bay and never darken its shores again.”

“There’s a schooner leaving for San Francisco this afternoon,” Jehu said helpfully.

M’Carty and Mr. Russell walked up to Bowman and stood over him.

“Whadya say we put him on the boat ourselves, Obediah?” M’Carty asked with a scornful look at the thief.

Mr. Russell spit. “Reckon that’s a real fine idea. Wouldn’t want him to get lost, now, would we?”

Bowman glared at them.

Mr. Swan banged his pipe down hard on the desk.

“Court adjourned!”

The sewing circle was
meeting the next afternoon, and with Sally Biddle attending, I wanted to look my best. I had several dresses to choose from, and while they were not nearly as grand as anything in Sally’s trunks, I was rather proud of having sewn them all myself—no easy feat.

In the end I chose a pale blue calico frock, with an edge of lace at the collar and about the wrists that I had scavenged from an old napkin. As I dressed for tea, I recalled the day I had won the embroidery contest at the Young Ladies Academy. Miss Hepplewhite had declared that I had the neatest small stitch of any pupil who’d ever attended the academy. Sally had been stunned at my victory. Even now my heart swelled with pride at the remembered triumph. It was the only time I had ever bested Sally at anything.

On my way out the door, I was stopped by Mrs. Frink.

“Oh, Jane, I won’t be able to attend the tea this afternoon. Will you please give my regrets to Mrs. Staroselsky?”

“Are you not feeling well?” I asked, noticing her pale cheeks.

I worried about her sometimes. She had lost her only child on the harsh trip overland, and while she never spoke of it, there were moments when her competent facade slipped and sadness crept across her features like a spreading stain.

She gave me a weary smile. “Just a bit tired.”

A misty rain had begun to fall, and in my haste I had neglected to bring one of my newest coveted treasures for the walk to Mrs. Staroselsky’s—my parasol. I had no doubt my hair would be a fuzzy, frizzy mess by the time I reached the tea.

As I strolled along the walkway, I looked out at the bay. Workers were loading a schooner with a fresh haul of oysters for shipment to San Francisco. There would be gold in many men’s pockets this evening, and most of it would be in Red Charley’s by tomorrow.

I went around Star’s to the little cabin where the Staroselskys lived and knocked on the door. My heart lightened at the familiar sound of feminine laughter drifting out the windows.

“Hello, Jane,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, her mouth widening in a smile. She was bobbing a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arm that let out a squawk every few moments. “We’d almost given up hope that you were coming!”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I began as I peered around her at the ladies gathered beyond the door.

Sally, outfitted in a walking dress of rose silk with a flounced skirt and a charming matching bonnet bearing a profusion of silk roses, was holding court in the middle of the Staroselskys’ cabin, a cup of tea in hand, as if she were in the finest parlor in Philadelphia!

“The sailors spent all their time flirting shamelessly with us
ladies,” Sally was telling her attentive audience. “Naturally, we ignored their advances. But the most incredible thing was that a number of these men already had wives!”

“No!” Mrs. Hosmer gasped.

“In every port,” Sally added drolly.

“Watch out, Jane,” Mrs. Woodley teased, explaining to Sally, “She’s courting a sailor.”

“A captain,” I clarified.

“I thought you said he was first mate,” Mrs. Staroselsky said.

“He was first mate on my voyage here, but then he was hired as captain.”

“Is this the gentleman who brought our luggage to the hotel?” Sally asked.

I nodded.

“And you met him on a ship?” Sally asked in a considering voice.

“Yes,” I said, and flushed despite myself.

“A word of advice then, as one lady to another,” Sally said, her voice full of sisterly warmth, kindness itself. “You should be careful with your affections regarding this man. He may already be married.”

“Jehu would never do anything like that,” I said.

“Of course, you know him best,” Sally agreed, her voice dripping with sympathy. She turned a winning smile on the hostess. “May I have some more cake, Mrs. Staroselsky? It is simply delicious.”

“Anything without oysters is delicious, if you ask me,” Mrs. Hosmer confided. “I have eaten more oysters in my short time here on the bay than all the rest of my life!”

All of a sudden, Rose’s mewling cries echoed through the modest cabin.

“Come now, you must be tired, sweetheart,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, rocking the baby back and forth in her arms in a determined way. She turned to the group in exasperation. “All she does is cry. Do you have any suggestions, Jane?” She held the small, screaming bundle out to me.

Papa’s clientele had tended toward drunken sailors who cracked open their heads during bar brawls, not babies.

“I don’t have much experience with babies,” I said.

“Poor mite,” Mrs. Woodley said with a sympathetic cluck. “Probably teething. Try rubbing whiskey on her gums.”

“Whiskey?” Mrs. Staroselsky asked.

Mrs. Woodley shrugged with all the experience of a lady who had held many a fussing baby. “Only thing whiskey’s good for, in my opinion.”

The ladies chuckled.

“Here, let me,” Mrs. Woodley said, taking the baby with sure hands. “Fetch me a teacup with a tablespoon of whiskey.”

We all watched as Mrs. Woodley rubbed a little whiskey on the baby’s gums, and after a moment the child’s sobs softened to a tired hiccup.

“There, there,” Mrs. Woodley said, and walked the baby across the room to the small cradle. Mrs. Hosmer and Mrs. Staroselsky trailed behind her to admire the now calm baby, leaving Sally and me alone at the table.

“Would you care for a cup of tea, Jane?” Sally asked, extending a freshly poured cup.

I hesitated for a moment, recalling the last time I had
accepted a beverage from her. Finally I took the tea from her with unsteady hands.