Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) by Shirley Kennedy Page B

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    To make matters worse, during the five months they’d been on the trail, their food supply had dwindled to practically nothing. Their small store of “luxury” goods, such as tea, maple syrup, vinegar, and pickles was long gone. Eventually they used up their dried fruits, vegetables and potatoes. At lower levels, wild game had been plentiful, but the higher they got, the scarcer the animals. Toward the end, their diet consisted of hard biscuits, beans, and an occasional hunk of beef jerky. “If I never see another biscuit, it will be none too soon,” Sarah complained over a cold supper one day.
    Riding by, Jack overheard her. “When we get to Gold Creek, I’ll buy you dinner at the finest hotel in town.”
    She’d laughed at his foolishness, so weary of trekking clear across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, she couldn’t even imagine the delights of sitting at a real table, eating good-tasting food, actually enjoying her meal.
    What a relief the day they crossed the highest summit of the Sierra Nevadas and started down the other side. Now, as they rolled into the busy main street of Gold Creek, Sarah stared with amazement. Buildings of all descriptions lined both sides of the street, some no more than tents. Others were rickety, thrown-together affairs built of wood. The only substantial buildings of any sort appeared to be two- and three-story hotel-saloons, all with tinny piano music blasting through their wide-open front doors.
    All kinds of people swarmed the street, mainly men in their teens and twenties. Most wore bright flannel shirts—red was the prominent color—slouch hats and pants with suspenders. Many had let their beards grow long and looked as if they hadn’t bathed for a while. The main street was laid out directly beside a river where, between the buildings, Sarah saw men wading hip deep in the stream, gold pans in their hands. A woman in a shortened skirt and rolled-up bloomers scooped her gold pan alongside the men.
    “Lord have mercy, look at this mess.” Ma pointed toward the endless assortment of litter strewn alongside the road. People stepped over or through it, no one seeming to mind.
    A babble of voices filled the air—some in foreign tongues Sarah didn’t understand. They passed by one of the largest buildings in town, a three-story building with a sign that read, The Alhambra Hotel & Saloon. From inside came the raucous sound of a poorly tuned piano playing “Sweet Betsy from Pike.” As she watched, a woman in a fancy dress and feathered hat strolled out the front door and down the wooden steps. Ma gasped and whispered, “Look there, she’s got rouge on her face!”
    Pa threw her a stern glance. “She’s a woman of ill repute, Luzena. Turn your eyes away.”
    Jack came riding up. “What do you think of Gold Creek, Sarah?”
    “It’s not what I expected.”
    Jack nodded agreeably. “You’ll get used to it. If you keep going straight, there’s a good place to camp right outside of town.” He addressed Pa. “If you like, tomorrow I can show you what you’re going to need for the diggings.”
    “Why, yes!” Pa looked greatly relieved. “That’ll be just fine.”
    Sarah could scarcely conceal her delight. Since that night she and Jack made love by the river, they’d hardly had a chance to talk. She had no idea what his plans were. “So you’re staying in Gold Creek, Mr. McCoy?”
    He grinned at her. “For a while.”
    “I thought you hadn’t planned to look for gold.”
    His grin faded. “Maybe I don’t know what I want. Maybe…let’s leave it at that, shall we?” He looked at Ma. “I just talked to Hiram. He’ll be coming, too.”
    Ma wagged her head. “He can’t do that. His leg hasn’t healed yet, and he’s got that terrible limp.”
    With an amused twitch of his mouth, Jack replied, “That’s what your daughter-in-law just said. He’s going, though. She couldn’t stop him.”
    Hooray! Hiram had defied Becky. Actually, she was probably right