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  American Alchemy: Gold

  Oliver Altair

  I

  San Francisco

  June 1, 1850

  My Dearest Clara,

  I beg your forgiveness. I have kept you in the dark so many months, not knowing whether I was alive or dead. Yet I hope by the time you finish this letter you will, if not forgive me, at least understand the motives behind my silence.

  The day James Marshall yelled “Gold!” from Sutter’s Mill, a siren song spread from the West. Some found immense richness for the taking in the sunny fields of California, but hundreds more marched, ignorant and willing, to their doom.

  Six months, one week, and three days after we left Boston, Lewis and I walked the streets of Sacramento for the first time. We paused for breath when we reached the port, the crowds bustling all around us.

  What a whirlwind of faces! Miners, traders, adventurers, soldiers… Men from all over who, like ourselves, had put their lives on hold for a golden promise. The air smelled of fortune and riches beyond our wildest dreams.

  But after two days of persistent inquiry, Lewis and I came to realize we’d been misled from the start. We were convinced our savings would be enough to buy us a piece of land with good prospects. Little did we know, all the best land had been claimed months prior. And because of the high demand, our money was not nearly enough to afford even the least plot within twenty miles of Sutter’s Mill.

  The third day found us sitting by the docks, half-drunk on a bottle of cheap rye. The Sacramento River ran below our swinging feet. Despite my attempts to cultivate an air of hope, Lewis remained as a cloister nun, his head down and his lips tight. I wanted to comfort my friend, but at the same time, I found his willingness to accept defeat enervating.

  I threw a pebble into my shimmering reflection. It waved, catching the last beams of the setting sun. Those golden gleams stuck in my pupils. I decided there and then that I’d come back to Massachusetts a rich man, or not at all.

  I grabbed the bottle. “A toast! To gold for the brave and the fortune that awaits!”

  Lewis laughed and shook his head. His brown curls bounced on his forehead as he reached up to take the bottle. “You’re drunker than I thought or just plain mad, my friend. But I’ll drink to that.”

  “Mark my words, Lewis. I’ll come back with a golden ring for Clara’s finger. Her father rejected Barton Saunders, the humble chemistry student. We shall see how he greets the owner of a gold field.”

  “I’ll travel to France and become one of those dilettantes that attend every party of the Parisian night. How’s that?”

  An old man approached. He had straggly white hair and a bushy beard. And he sat beside us, uninvited. “Looking for fortune, are we?”

  “Indeed. But fortune, it seems, is not looking for us.”

  The old man stared with his deep blue eyes and a friendly smile. A golden tooth shone inside his mouth.

  “Name’s David Davidson, but they call me Daffy, ‘cause they say I’m crazy as a coot.”

  “Well, are you?”

  Davidson cackled and slapped his thigh. “Maybe ‘tis the truth. But crazy or not, I know of good, unclaimed land. And I’ll take you there for a small fee.”

  Lewis raised an eyebrow, and I smirked.

  Davidson rummaged through the pockets of his muddy overalls and withdrew a shiny object. It was a gold nugget as big as my thumb.

  My eyes grew wide.

  Davidson cackled madly. “You in or you out?”

  II

  Sunrise found us hunched under the weight of our bags. They were filled with shovels, picks, pans, and all sorts of mining goods we had purchased in an overpriced market, hoping it’d be an investment worth our while. David Davidson guided us out of Sacramento, then east into the roads that ran close to the roaring waters of the American River.

  The river flowed rapidly between shores of gray rocks. Small flowers grew between the cracks, spotting the gray with a vibrant yellow. Oaks stood tall and strong by the riverside, their reflection dancing on the running water.

  Davidson walked surprisingly fast for a man his age. Lewis and I were no match for his stamina, but we both tried our best not to slow him down. Once in a while, I stopped to soak in the beauty of the landscape, but Davidson would click his tongue for me to keep pace, the same as he did with his old mule.

  We stopped at a miners' settlement by a small lake around noon and shared a light meal. They inquired about our destination, but Davidson was reluctant to give any details. I welcomed his discretion.

  The second half of our journey was by no means as pleasant as the first. When we reached the South Fork, I was surprised we didn’t stay on the path to Coloma, but walked cross-country and followed a tributary that thinned a yard for every mile traveled. The colors around us changed from green to yellow to brown.

  Lewis’ face came to match the ashen gray of the rocks. His mood had only worsened. I could feel his eyes drilling into the back of my neck as we walked through a land most inhospitable. But I still had hope. People found gold in the most unlikely of places.

  “ ‘Ere we are.” Davidson grinned, his arm out to the landscape before us.

  The sun sat at the exact opposite end of a jagged, uneven plateau. The tributary was little more than a tiny creek, and it zigzagged hopelessly across that muddy plain, spotted with thorny bushes and stunted grass. Trees grew, or tried to, but they were too scarce to add any color to that blighted plot of land.

  “You lied to us.” Lewis pushed me aside and grabbed the old man by his shirt. “Give us back our money!”

  Davidson shook, and I put a firm hand on Lewis’ shoulder.

  “Lewis.”

  He grunted, releasing Davidson. Lewis’ glare chilled my blood.

  “It don't look like much, I know.” Davidson flattened his plaid shirt. He didn’t seemed bothered by Lewis’ outburst. “But that creek carries more yellow than the rest of the gold fields in one.”

  Lewis’ face shook with incredulity, but again I took his arm.

  “Work the creek with me in the morning.” Davidson nodded. “See if old Daffy speaks true.”

  “Lewis?” I whispered.

  I feared he’d walk off, leaving me to follow or stay behind. But he just rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he slid his bag off his shoulders and let it fall on the dusty ground.

  III

  “Sun’s up and so are we!” Davidson shouted.

  I turned to Lewis, who lay beside me inside our tent. He was already awake, and the circles around his eyes told me he’d slept poorly, if at all. I feared I’d dealt our friendship a terrible blow by not having returned to Sacramento.

  Outside the tent, Davidson toasted bread and brewed coffee. The bread was stale and the coffee was stagnant water, but I appreciated the gesture. Even Lewis was more inclined to chat as we sipped our coffee around the fire.

  Lewis and I diligently grabbed all the mining equipment we’d purchased in Sacramento. When Davison saw us covered in tools, like two medieval knights in full armor, he laughed wholeheartedly. “You need none of that!” He waved a rusty pan. “Just two of these.”

  I looked down, embarrassed. I had insisted on spending a ridiculous sum on these tools, fighting Lewis’ better judgement tooth and nail.

  Lewis placed his hand on my shoulder. “We can sell whatever we don't need for twice the price. Perhaps we’ll make our fortune as tradesmen after all.”

  He smiled, and in hindsight, I believe that smile was the last I’d see of my true friend.

  “There’s always chances for them who’d take ‘em,” Davidson agreed.

  Lewis and I showed Davidson our spotless, iron pans. He examined them and nodded. “They’ll do”

&
nbsp; We followed Davidson to the creek for our first lesson about the art of gold panning.

  Davidson scoffed when he saw us rolling our pants up to keep them dry. “Afraid of wetting your fancy pants?”

  He stepped into the water ankle deep without hesitation. We followed.

  Panning for gold was more exhausting than I’d ever imagined. Crouching for so long was torture. For the first couple of hours, Lewis and I took turns stretching our arms and legs, but Davidson never moved.

  “A minute wasted, a nugget lost.”

  After a few hours without any results, frustration set in. I drowned my pan more rapidly, and shook the sand away with vigor.

  “Nay!” Davidson scowled. “Give it time, boy!”

  He nabbed my pan, drowned it, and waved it slowly left to right, until all the sediment had settled.

  “See now?”

  I nodded, and he handed the pan back.

  Lewis, on the other hand, seemed a natural, and his thoroughness pleased the old man. I was jealous. Not only had he grasped the job faster, but that dreadful, monotonous task seemed to soothe Lewis where it soured me.

  Hours passed. By the time the sun was low in the horizon, my fingers were pruned, and my knees were sore. Worse, there was not a speck of gold between us.

  “ ‘Tis a bad day.” Davidson dropped his pan on the sand and left for camp. “There’s yellow in this creek. Daffy says no lie.”

  Lewis stared at me with his hazel eyes. There was no anger in them. Just the endless patience an older sibling offers a younger when he errs.

  “I’ll start packing.”

  I remained at the riverside. I would find gold.

  Lewis called my name from the camp a couple of times, but I ignored him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving empty-handed. I simply could not stand the idea of Lewis being right. Not again.

  I knew our Harvard colleagues compared us, wondering why Lewis, such a brilliant mind, would choose a mediocre chemistry student as his best friend. But I had the spark Lewis lacked. I would prove them wrong. I would find my treasure here, in this babbling creek.

  I have no idea how long I stood in that murky water. Under that feverish insanity. But just as the sun was almost gone, I raised my pan and there it was, shining in blazing oranges under the rays of the setting sun…

  Gold.

  IV

  I ran back to the camp, waving my fist like I held a burning ember. Lewis had packed our belongings. He and Davidson sat at the fire’s edge, Lewis warming his hands and Davidson chewing tobacco.

  Lewis rose to his feet. “Are you unwell, Barton?”

  I opened my palm. The gold nugget gleamed with the glow of the flames.

  “Ain’t that a beauty! Old Daffy always says the truth, yessir.” Davidson had sneaked behind Lewis and contemplated my gold piece over his shoulder. I saw his eager eyes and closed my hand.

  Lewis hugged me and palmed my back. “You were right. So goddamned right! Let me see it again. Can I hold it?”

  Hold it? Why? The triumph was all mine. His stubbornness had almost ruined our chance. But reason got the better of me, and I reluctantly placed the gold nugget on my friend’s open palm.

  Lewis pinched the nugget between his fingers and brought it closer to his face. “Too small of a reward for a day working sun-to-sun, is it not?”

  “Too small?” I grabbed the gold from Lewis’ hand. “What more do you want? A golden apple? Perhaps that boulder there? This is more than you’d expected to find. And to think you wanted to leave this place!”

  Lewis stared at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life. “It was a joke, old friend.”

  I stood there a moment, feeling the heat on my cheeks and knowing nothing of the greed that had poisoned my veins.

  I turned to Davidson. “Who owns this land?”

  “That be the Mason Brothers, Phineas and Will.”

  “You will take me to them in the morning. We—”

  “Wait a minute, Barton.” Lewis interrupted. “Who are these brothers and why should they want to sell rich land?”

  Davidson shrugged “Them Masons are good men, but dumb as they come. They’d sell their land in a heartbeat. One is a cripple since birth. The other has gone soft in the head for working under the sun too long.”

  Lewis stiffened. “They don’t know about the gold, do they?”

  Davidson grinned. “That’s old Daffy’s secret.”

  “You’d have us prey on two men who don’t know any better?” Lewis turned to me. “Is that who we’ve become?”

  I saw Lewis then for what he was. A coward. His lack of initiative had bothered me from the start, but to risk our chances now?

  I dismissed Lewis’ remark with a wave of my hand. “Prey? We’ll make them a good offer. Not as good as richer men, but enough to help them achieve a better life. We’ll give them a good deal and pan again by lunch.”

  Lewis met my gaze through the white smoke of the burning logs. “Are you so willing to sacrifice everything over one nugget?”

  “I am.”

  Lewis nodded, and said no more.

  V

  Early the next day, Davidson took me to the Mason’s farm, though perhaps farm was too generous a word. The house stood in the middle of a rocky field. Its walls were made of dry mud, and its hay roof had almost completely washed away. A man dug furrows in the hard, red earth. But why, I wondered, when nothing could ever grow in such a place?

  I was glad Lewis had refused to accompany us. He never would’ve allowed me to take one step closer.

  We approached the man. He resembled a buffalo, with his small eyes, thick nose, and generous beard. He breathed heavily as he dug the field. He had strong arms and a broad back, but his movements were clumsy. Sick.

  “Howdy.” Davidson waved.

  “Go away, Daffy. Told you I want none of you around my land.” The man never turned his eyes away from his hoe.

  “Watch your tongue, Will Mason. And your manners. There’s a gentleman here to see you. All the way from Massachusetts, he is.”

  Will Mason looked up at me, flustered. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  “Stop staring like a dead cow and go get your kin, boy.”

  Will dropped his hoe and disappeared behind the house. He came back with another man, a thinner version of himself with a darker beard and a limp. The brother.

  Phineas Mason glared at Davidson. “What’s this ‘bout, Daffy? A gentleman you say?”

  “Good day. My name’s Barton Saunders.”

  I offered my hand. And though Phineas took it, his eyes remained on Davidson.

  “My partner and I are interested in purchasing your land.”

  “Hope you don’t mind me sayin’, sir,” Will Mason tossed his hand at Davidson. “But this man’s no good.”

  Davidson scoffed. “Shut your mouth, fool. I ain’t his partner.”

  “My partner is my good friend Mr. Lewis Dennison. He’s awaiting my return to camp. I hope I can bring him good news.”

  The Mason brothers exchanged a puzzled gaze.

  Phineas raised an eyebrow. “You want to buy our land you say?”

  “Indeed, we do.”

  “This is a wasteland, sir. We live here because that’s where we was born. But we’d leave if we could. Nothing grows. Cattle dies. I would be no good Christian if I didn’t warn you.”

  I thought of Lewis. I could tell those odd men about the gold in their creek. Let them decide if they wanted to take our offer or not. Maybe I could even arrange some sort of partnership with the Masons, if they decided to pan the creek themselves.

  Instead, I shrugged my shoulders. “We like it here.”

  Before they could inquire any further, I gave them a number. It wasn’t our full savings, but it was the lion’s share.

  The Masons exchanged another glance and walked away.

  I feared the brothers smarter than Davidson believed them to be. My offer was definitely hard to swallow. No one in their right mind
would sell that land without knowing what lay beneath the water of the creek.

  After a few minutes, the Mason brothers returned.

  “We’ll take it!”

  VI

  Under the orange light of the rising sun, I helped Davidson pack his scarce belongings in his donkey’s saddlebags. The Masons had left hours ago, overjoyed with bidding farewell to their birthplace. Only Lewis and I would remain.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to work with us? There’s money to be made.”

  “Nay. I thank you, but I’m old n’ tired. The payment you gave me for my services shall be my last.”

  Davidson clicked his tongue and the donkey trotted down the path. He waved goodbye once more and was gone. My eyes followed his slow march towards the horizon. Then I gathered my gold pan and joined Lewis at the creek.

  Lewis had gone straight to work as soon as the sky was light. When I arrived to the riverside, he was motionless, staring at the bottom of his pan. He didn’t noticed my arrival until I clapped his back.

  Lewis shivered and coughed.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

  Lewis took a deep breath, but his cough would not relent.

  “Did you swallow a bug?”

  Lewis gulped. “I must have.”

  He resumed his panning. The color of the murky water bounced off his face.

  We panned the creek in silence until the shadows disappeared beneath our heels. The afternoon turned into evening, and when the moon found us in that ugly shore, there was no more gold in our pans than when we’d started.

  One week passed. Then two.

  A hot wind ran across the plateau, carrying clouds of red dust. Lewis was especially sensitive to it, and he took to wearing a bandana around his nose and mouth when he was at the creek.

  I raised my arms. “I surrender, don’t shoot!”