River Queen Rose. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Ahead, they saw a forest of masts, all from ships that had been abandoned, the crews having taken off for the gold fields. To the east, Deke saw what looked like a long, low bank of white clouds. He soon learned they weren’t clouds at all but the snow-covered Sierra Nevada Mountains, 150 miles away. “Looks like we’re not there yet,” he said. “It’ll take a while.”
Mitch shook his head. “Not so. From what I hear, we can sail across the bay and up a river that will take us all the way to Sacramento, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
His friend couldn’t have been more wrong. In Deke’s worst nightmare, he could not have imagined how big a problem his journey to the gold fields would turn out to be. Both having arrived in California with substantial funds, he and Mitch purchased a longboat taken from an abandoned ship. They were joined by five fellow Australians they’d met on the Elizabeth Archer, each having offered to pay for their passage. After asking directions and checking maps, they started out, aiming their longboat across San Francisco Bay. Because of their ample provisions and the weight of seven men, the boat rode low in the water, but they crossed the northern part of San Francisco Bay to the Strait of Benicia without incident and spent a convivial night in a hotel in the town of Benicia. All the next day, they sailed and rowed east across Suisun Bay toward the mouth of the Sacramento River. With hopes and excitement running high, Deke enjoyed the journey. They laughed and joked a lot, and there was much speculation about what they’d do with all the gold they were going to find. Deke remembered that day well. It was the last day he was a whole man, fit and confident that if he had to, he could take on the world.
When night fell and the tide ebbed, they were still several miles from the river, so they decided to drop anchor until dawn. They bundled themselves against the cold wind and slept as best they could. A few hours later, Deke suddenly awoke to find the boat listing sharply and cold water rushing in. He didn’t know until later that the anchor had gotten stuck in the mud of the bay floor. As the water rose with the tide, the boat tipped completely over. He felt himself being flung into the water just as the edge of the boat smashed down on his leg. At the time, he hardly noticed. Others were screaming. He himself was a strong swimmer, so when Mitch started desperately yelling, “I can’t swim,” and flailing his arms, he grabbed hold of his friend’s coat collar and held him up. What next? He could hang on to the overturned boat, but they were already shaking from the cold, and he knew they’d never last long in the freezing water. Tugging Mitch behind him, he began a one-armed paddle toward what he hoped was shore. Along the way, exhaustion overcame him and he thought he couldn’t go on unless he let Mitch go. But no, he couldn’t do that. Mitch was his friend, and he’d either get him to shore or they’d go down together in the icy, unforgiving waters of Suisun Bay.
Soaking wet and freezing, Deke, Mitch, and two other survivors somehow made it to land. An icy, bitter wind cut into them as they crawled up a bank and lay exhausted on the muddy ground. It was then Deke’s right leg let him know it was broken, sending out such an agonizing wave of pain, he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. He tried to walk and couldn’t. In silent agony, he made it through the rest of the night, and when the sun came up, he saw how the raw end of a broken shin bone was sticking through the skin of his right leg.
Deke couldn’t walk. Thank God, he’d kept his money in a waterproof belt around his waist, but like his companions, everything else he owned had been lost in the bay. It was a sorry-looking lot that managed to hail a passing whaleboat. By then, Deke could do nothing, other than grit his teeth to stifle his cries of pain while his companions carried him onto the whaleboat and laid him on the deck as carefully as they could. Even so, the least bit of jostling brought spasms of agony, a couple of times so bad he passed out. When they reached the town of Stockton, they looked for a doctor but were told they must travel on to Sacramento to find the nearest one available. So they found another boat, hauled Deke up the Sacramento River, the most agonizing ride of his life, and finally reached the office of Dr. Horace Andrews, a kindly, white-haired man whose medical school diploma on the wall gave Deke confidence that he knew what he was doing.
“It’s a bad break,” Dr. Andrews said. “I’m going to set your leg and put it in a cast. I’ll use something new called plaster of Paris. You’ll be my first patient to have it.”
With his mates holding him down, Deke had his leg set. Even though the doctor gave him a dose of laudanum, the pain was so bad he mercifully passed out. When he came to, he had a huge heavy cast on his leg. The doctor gave him some crutches. “Here’s so you can get around.”
“How long?”
“At least six weeks. Then come back and we’ll see.”
“What if I don’t wait six weeks before I get off the crutches?”
Dr. Andrews looked him in the eye. “If you walk on that leg a day before I say you can, you’ll likely be crippled the rest of your life.”
After an unhappy parting accompanied by profuse apologies and expressions of regret, his friends went on without him. After all, he couldn’t expect them to stay when they were keen on getting to the diggings. Hiding his profound disappointment, he smiled, told them he’d be fine, and watched as they rode off toward the mountains. So now what would he do? Or more like it, what could he do? One thing he knew: He’d been busy all his life and couldn’t just sit around waiting for the leg to heal.
Lucky for him, one day in the River Queen Saloon, he met a man named Emmet Peterson who loudly complained how he desperately needed a farmhand, but nearly every able-bodied man in town had taken off for the gold fields. Deke saw his opportunity. Would he take a hardworking Australian who, despite the crutches, could still give a good day’s work? Emmet said he would, and that’s why Decatur Fleming, owner of a thirty-four-thousand-square-kilometer sheep station in the heart of the outback, became the humble farmhand on a twenty-acre farm on the outskirts of Sacramento.
Now what would he do? Stay in Sacramento, he supposed. Rent a room. Find something to keep him occupied until the cast came off. Maybe he’d see Rose Peterson again. He would like that. He didn’t like that he’d had to lie to her, but what else could he do? What good would come from her knowing her husband suffered greatly for hours before he died?
And that wasn’t all he hadn’t told her. Mason Talbot. He clenched his jaw. If the Petersons knew what Mason had done? But they didn’t know, and damned if he’d be the one to tell them. Best let sleeping dogs lie.
So he’d stay in Sacramento, at least until Dr. Andrews took the cast off. Nearly five miserable, frustrating weeks he’d waited. Now he had just over a week to go before Rose Peterson saw him walk like a man again, and he’d make sure she did. It would be the longest week of his life.
Chapter 5
Rose didn’t sleep well that night. She was having a hard time suppressing her resentment that her father-in-law considered her opinion so unimportant he hadn’t even asked if she wished to sign those papers. She would, though. She couldn’t imagine not signing and had definitely made up her mind.
In the morning, she helped with breakfast as usual. In contrast to that first day when the cupboards were bare, an abundance of food filled every shelf, nook, and cranny in the kitchen. Not only had the family bought their own provisions, neighbors from all around brought offerings of everything from oranges, walnuts, and all kinds of vegetables to slabs of beef and a salmon freshly caught from the Sacramento River. Coralee was so grateful she nearly cried. “It’s not the food so much as it is these people care, even though they don’t know us. I felt like a stranger, but now I’m beginning to feel like this is home.”
They would go to the solicitor’s office in the afternoon. As the hour drew closer, a heaviness centered in Rose’s chest. She would sign the papers, even though she couldn’t get Deke’s words out of her head. She’d live to regret it, he said, and she knew she would. Even so, like she’d told Deke, she’d never find the courage to stand up to the family, especially Ben. She cringed at the thought of defying the man who ruled his family with an iron hand.
Toward noon, when no one was in the kitchen except Rose, Dulcee Bidwell from the farm next door arrived with a freshly baked apple pie. “Today’s