Dead Man's Gold and Other Stories by Paul Yee

ONE
Dead Man’s Gold
    GOLD ATTRACTS men like a magnet awakening metal pins, like honey humming to bees. It shines and never rusts, flattens thin as tissue and reels into feathery threads. It crowns the kings of mighty empires and dazzles the eye when spun as filigree jewelry. It has caused nations to go to war, men to commit murder, and innocent people to be enslaved.
    Chinese, too, have fallen under its strident glow and dark shadows.
    In the mid-nineteenth century, when rumors of faraway gold rushes reached Big Field village in South China, many men decided to go to the New World, including Yuen and Fong. Born in the same month and same year, these two friends had chased tadpoles through ponds and played at the same school as children. Although both inherited plenty of farm chores, Yuen was the only son of poor peasants who owned a single pot to cook all their meals, while Fong’s father had several fields, seven sons and two wives to manage his kitchen.

    When it came time to leave, the families of both men gathered by the river to say farewell. Yuen’s mother and sisters wept and clung to his sleeves, begging him not to go.
    â€œI will send you news and gold as soon as I can,” promised Yuen, but the women only wailed louder.
    Fong stepped in. “Don’t worry,” he told them. “No matter where we go, we’ll look after one another.”
    â€œOf course,” added Yuen. “We’ll stay together until we both get rich.”
    â€œTwo heads are better than one,” said Fong. “And four hands can carry any load.”
    So the women were comforted and the village men set forth.
    In China, their black-brick village was snuggled in a coastal plain of rice paddies cultivated over many centuries. Ancient streams meandered by, and the horizon held low rolling hills. In the New World, the Big Field villagers shouldered picks and shovels and tramped through mountainous forests. They marveled at jagged, dark cliffs rising like castle walls, and at a river that boiled and churned through treacherous boulders.
    Miners from around the world scrambled along the mighty river, its banks and many tributaries. Impatient to start, Fong often darted ahead to talk to miners who had already staked their claims on the river. He always returned in great excitement: “A man from Yen-ping was crossing a shallow stream when a glint in the water caught his eye. He crouched down and there lay a gold nugget round as a walnut, just waiting to be plucked!”
    The villagers gathered as he continued, “Another man from our county took two fistfuls of gold gravel from nearby water. All in one day! A smart man, he stood at a bend in the river where the current slowed to drop its gold. He has returned to China to build two new houses!”
    But the farther inland the villagers went, the costlier the supplies for daily living became. Soon the Big Field men faced a decision. Stop and take jobs working for other miners, or keep trekking until they could find an empty stretch of river where they could stake their own claims.
    Yuen decided to hire himself out to miners, but Fong declared, “No one grows rich working for bosses. Don’t stop here!”
    â€œPoor families like mine have always relied on wages,” Yuen insisted.
    â€œOh, just pull your belt tighter!” retorted his friend. “Come with me. Remember, we swore to stay together.”
    Yuen hung back. “Even if you go, you may never find gold. At least I will be paid.”
    â€œPaid?” Fong laughed. “You’ll get pennies.”
    â€œHah! You look down on hard work, yet you want instant riches.”
    â€œOf course I do. Don’t you?”
    As Fong stalked off, Yuen sighed and hoped his was the right decision.
    â€œHard work is heavens way,” he told himself. “That fool Fong has lived amidst abundance all his life. He has never ached or sweated from an honest days toil.”
    Every