Abe quickly found himself on the way back to Sacramento, acting as a courier for Billy Ralston and scheduled to meet with the governor. As Billy explained there were things that couldn't be openly communicated on the new telegraph that ran from San Francisco to Sacramento and beyond.

Abe didn't know what was in the satchel he carried, but at least this time he travelled by coach. They made the run in a single day, stopping only to change out horses. By early evening Abe found himself standing in the lobby of the Orleans House once again, this time a room was waiting. Billy had asked him to deliver the pouch to the governor's secretary and so the following morning he stood before the door of the Stanford mansion where the governor had his offices.

The doorman showed him to the east wing and left him standing before a gentleman whose desk held more paper than a modest library. Bald, bespectacled and of middle age, the man looked up at Abe with annoyance.

"Yes ... may I help you?"

"I'm Abraham Wheelwright ... I'm here to see the governor."

"Wheelwright…Wheelwright," the man muttered, looking through papers on his desk and pulling out a leather bound book. His fingers searched the pages and then he quickly stood up with a smile.

"Ah yes, you come from Mr. Ralston. I'm Elias Broom, Governor Low's secretary."

"Mr. Broom, pleased to meet you. I believe this is for you," Abe said, handing over the leather satchel.

"Good, I've been waiting for that," Broom said.

He motioned to a chair beside his desk and sat back down to undo the straps on the satchel. Broom peered inside and smiled, and then he turned his eyes back to Abe.

"The governor will be here shortly; did you have a pleasant journey?"

"It was uneventful, just a bumpy ride."

Broom hesitated and then couldn't contain himself any longer. "Is it true, did you kill a dozen of those savage Indians on your way west?"

Abe almost laughed, but shook his head. "I don't believe it was that many. Where did you hear that?"

Broom dug in his desk and pulled out a folder filled with newspapers. "Here, The Daily Union did an article on you a few months back after you rescued Mayor Swift."

'Savages and outlaws fall to the mighty guns of famous Indian fighter Abraham Wheelwright, Mayor grateful.' Read the opening line of the article that dominated the front page, Abe was stunned. There was an account of Indians attacking the wagon train where Abe single-handedly slaughtered a dozen of the despicable savages, it was anything but accurate.

Abe was just finishing up the story when a man swept into the office followed by four others who were carrying papers and arguing with one another. One look told Abe this was Governor Low.

"Gentlemen…please," Broom said, rising to intercept them as Low made it to an inner door and disappeared.

"We have a legitimate grievance, Mr. Broom…we must see the governor," One of the men said.

"You'll need to make an appointment for that, Mr. Hawkins. He has a full schedule today."

"I can't wait, sir…I must see him immediately," The man insisted. And then without asking he made his way for the governor's office. Abe stood up and blocked the way.

"Mr. Broom said you'll need an appointment," Abe said.

"And who the hell are you?"

Abe pulled back his coat and revealed the revolver. He stared the man down until the fellow turned pale. "Now I would suggest making that appointment, or you may leave."

The man quickly turned and rushed from the room, followed by his friends. Abe turned back to see a genuine smile on Broom's face.

"Oh yes, that was wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Wheelwright. Let me go tell the governor you're here."

Broom went thought the door to speak with the governor as Abe walked over and studied a fancy tea service sitting on a sideboard. His mother would love to own a teapot like this one.

"Mr. Wheelwright?"

Abe turned at the unfamiliar voice and saw the governor appraising him.

"Yes, Sir ... Governor Low?"

The man smiled and stuck out his hand. "I am…Broom just told me what you did. That pack of vultures follows me everywhere, I'm grateful that you chased them away."

"It was nothing, sir." Abe said.

Low motioned towards his office and Abe followed him inside. Broom was there pouring coffee and he handed Abe a cup.

"Sit down…sit down," Low said. "Billy Ralston sent me a telegram and said to expect you, is there anything else you'd like to add to what he has to say?"

Abe shook his head. "I have no idea what Mr. Ralston told you…"

"He has this idea that you ought to be deputized before he sends you running around the state. I imagine you're pretty handy with a gun from what I've read…"

"Governor…please. That account in the newspapers is completely false, I never did all those things," Abe said.

"You didn't shoot Indians?"

"Well, yes I did, but not like that."

"But you did save C.H. during that robbery attempt, shot three or four men."

"Governor…I did what I had to do, but I'm not a gunslinger."

Low sipped his coffee and stared. "I tend to believe I have finally met an honest man. I know stories have been fabricated, but that only sells newspapers. Do you understand the duties of a deputy marshal?"

"No, sir. I've never really aspired to become a policeman. But Mr. Ralston seems to think it would be of value."

Low nodded. "And he's right. As a deputy you will have the authority to apprehend someone involved in criminal activity. But I would imagine just having your eyes open for those things will be invaluable, and then you may report them to the local sheriff.

"These are lawless times, Mr. Wheelwright. As more people pour into the state too many of them come here for illegal purposes. I can only imagine how difficult our jobs will become as the war concludes, it can't last much longer."

"No, sir, I agree," Abe said.

"I gather you're a southerner, at least you have that soft spoken accent…Virginia I'd say," Low said.

Abe smiled. "And you'd be right; I grew up on a farm in the Shenandoah Valley."

"C.H. told me you were an officer, a Confederate cavalry officer…at such a young age?"

"That was about as real as that newspaper account. No, I was a cadet at VMI and fought in the battle at New Market. But I do hold a commission from Jubal Early as a captain, but I lied my way into that. I've had about enough of that war."

"So you came out here…I understand," Low said. "Well, I won't criticize; too many young men got caught up in that mess. But we have our share of secessionists right here, and lately they've become murderers and thieves. Have you ever heard of the Mason-Henry Gang?"

"No, sir ... can't say that I have," Abe replied.

"Jim Henry and John Mason, I just put a five hundred dollar reward on their heads. They claim to be Confederate soldiers, but they're little more than murderers and thieves. They're somewhere down around Watsonville and I want you to find them for us."

"Me? I don't know the territory, how could I possibly be of any use to you?"

"You're a southerner, that's a beginning. Watsonville is full of Copperhead sympathizers, those anti-Lincoln men have been a problem since the war began. But now that the south is losing they've set out to kill Union men, especially those who supported Lincoln in the last election.

"I don't expect you to arrest them, Mr. Wheelwright, just find them for us. I'd begin down in Stockton where they got started, ask around, they used to work for Judge Belt on his ranch down there."

Low paused and Broom handed him a paper to sign. "Yes, the sheriffs of four or five counties are out looking for these men, been working with the California Volunteers down there trying to apprehend these criminals, but not even the army can find them."

Low motioned Abe over to his desk and then Broom handed the governor a Bible. Abe raised his right hand and was sworn in. Broom handed him a certificate with the governor's signature and a badge that said deputy marshal, he was now a lawman.

"That badge is good throughout the state which means the various sheriffs you meet, and even the army, will take orders from you. Let's just hope is doesn't come to that. I know old Billy expects to have you back in one piece, but you're workin for me now…at least for a while," Low said.

"Yes, sir," Abe said. He shook hands with the governor and then followed Broom out to the outer office.

"I need to get you some money…and probably a good map of the area," Broom said.

"The Governor said go to Stockton first, what's there?" Abe asked.

"A nice town," Broom said. "Biggest in the San Joaquin Valley, lots of ranches and farms. Outside of San Francisco it's been the gateway to the gold fields in the Sierra."

"Oh, is it anywhere near the Stanislaus River?" Abe asked.

"That's about eighty miles east of there, you planning to go prospecting?"

"No, I just need a disguise while I travel," Abe said.

"I agree, those fancy clothes won't get you close to those criminals. You be careful, Mr. Wheelwright, those men are killers."

"Abe…the name is Abe."

Broom smiled. "And I'm Elias. Now let's go get you some funds for your travels. If needed you can send me telegrams or just drop me a message by way of the Butterfield Stage Line, both come thru here. I think you'll find Sheriff Hicks in Watsonville to be a good man, he's been up here to see us a few times."

Abe was only carrying a hundred dollars of his own money, but Elias gave him two hundred more. That would be enough to get him started. Now Abe wished he'd ridden his horse to Sacramento, but Elias said he would find a mount in the stables out back, Stanford would let him have a good horse.

Abe didn't think it wise to make the trip back to San Francisco, Billy Ralston would wonder at his absence. That would be something best left for the governor to explain. But he would be gone a month, maybe more, and he had to tell Zach something.

At least the boy was surrounded with friends, Mrs. Ardmore would take good care of him. But this would be the first time Abe would be away since they met. He stopped into the telegraph office to send a message.

"All well here," Abe wrote on the message form. "Going to Stockton in search of Clemens. Job will keep me away for several weeks. Will keep you informed. Miss you both. Abe."

Zach knew his purpose in visiting the governor, there was no reason to repeat any of that. If anything he didn't want to tell the boy what he was going to do. But Zach knew this job had nothing to do with Clemens, and so he would understand something secret was afoot.

The horse Abe had chosen was a plain sturdy mare, and the stable hand said she had been over the mountains a few times. He picked a well worn saddle and an Indian blanket to pad it, but there was something missing.

"You goin up them mountains you need a rifle," The stable hand said.

Yes, he did. The man showed him to the office and there was a rack of rifles bolted to the wall. He looked them over and saw a Henry 44. Fifteen shots and a hot barrel was all he remembered, but this one had a wooden grip fitted to the barrel.

"Mr. Stanford had that done up special, even got special cartridges made for it." The hand said, handing him the rifle. Abe looked at the cartridges and saw that the slug wasn't lead, it was copper.

"Why copper do you suppose?"

"That bullet go clean thru a man and come out the other side, you could stop a bear with that rifle."

He slid the Henry in the saddle scabbard and tied his saddle bags on behind. He would look like some fancy dude with the clothes he had on, it was time to go find something a little more suited to the trail. He headed east towards the river and turned south. Although Stockton was his goal, Abe knew he was off to find Clemens, maybe learn a little bit about panning for gold.

Abe wasn't sure how he would hook up with any of these gang members. But he figured the travel orders signed by Jubal Early and his captain's commission would be worth a whole lot to men like that. He would have to keep that badge out of sight.

As Low had said, these men were bandits not soldiers. They would value a man for his ability to shoot straight and face dangerous situations. It would take time to earn their trust, and time to learn their plans. There was no way he was going to bring these outlaws to justice by himself….he was just a spy once again.

The road out of Sacramento followed the old Monterey Trail, running south down the valley and bypassing Stockton. Abe had a map showing the whole San Joaquin Valley and planned to keep close track of where he was. He rode most of the day and in the late afternoon came to Elk Grove.

The town was little more than a stage coach stop, but they had a trading post and Abe decided it was time to change his outfit and buy some supplies. The fancy clothes he donated to the trash bin behind the store as he slid into more comfortable work clothes. He bought an oilskin coat much like the one he wore as a cadet; the nice part about it was that it hid the pistol slung from his belt.

He bought supplies to cook his meals on the trail, wondering how things would be in a mining camp. He would eat cooked meals as he followed the stage line, but then when he headed towards the Stanislaus River he would be in wilderness once again. He looked with distain at the cans of beans and slabs of dried bacon, but he bought some.

It took him two days to reach Stockton and turn east. Angel's Camp was one of the early trading posts established by a couple of Forty-Niners, that was the place Billy had said Clemens went to seek gold. Abe roughly understood the process of working the hills and creeks for gold; it just seemed like a lot of work for little gain.

The thought of Sam Clemens bent over, standing in water while swishing a pan of rocks around made Abe smile. There was nothing soft about the man; he'd known his share of hard work. But he could just imagine his friend trying to find something intelligent about such work while wondering why his back hurt so much.

Angel's Camp was a hodge-podge of tents and buildings, all surrounding the mines that seemed to be working right there in the middle of town. The noise of grinding stones and sloshing water filled the air, and Abe gaped at his first look at a large mining operation. He thought to bed down in the trees outside of town, but then he saw a sign on a two story stone building that said Angels Hotel.

As expected the hotel was full, but there was tent space for rent out back. Abe left his rifle and saddlebags at the desk and wandered into the bar for something to eat. The room was filled with cigar smoke and laughter, most of it emanating from the host of scraggly bearded men who occupied the tables. It didn't take Abe but a second to see who was causing all the hilarity. Sam Clemens was sitting at the bar.

"And so the boy jumped clean over that snake and landed in the briar patch," Clemens was saying. "You coulda heard him howl from one side of town to the other. So I snuck out from behind the bushes and grabbed my snake, took him right home and washed off the stripes which scared Willy so badly. And that's about it…except that old snake grew and grew in Willy's imagination. Last I heard him tell the darn thing was twelve feet long."

It was at this point that Sam noticed Abe standing beside the door and a smile split his face. "Abe…oh my, it's good to see you."

Abe shook Sam's hand. "Telling tall tales again I see."

"I am, long as they keep paying my bar bill. What brings you to Angel's Camp?"

"Lookin for you, among other things," Abe said.

"I have my own tent out back, care to join me?" Sam said.

"Yes, that would be nice, but I came in here lookin for something to eat."

Sam shook his head. "I guess it is about time to eat supper. Come on, we can do better than this place."

It took them five minutes to leave the bar as everyone wanted to shake Sam's hand or pat him on the back. Abe understood, Sam was an entertaining fellow and he could talk up a storm. Finally they made it to the door and stepped out onto the porch.

"I see you got those men right in the mood," Abe said. "They were hanging on your every word."

"Oh, my snake story? I just made that up," Sam said. He led Abe up the street to a wood fronted building and they walked through the door. Inside the place held long tables with benches down either side. The roof over their heads was canvas, a most temporary structure. But there must have been fifty people already seated and the smell of cooking wafted from the kitchen at the rear.

Sam chose a place at a table and they sat across from one another. A man circulated around the tables with an armload of beer bottles, Sam raised his hand and held up two fingers, which brought them two bottles of beer.

"Food will be up shortly, gents," The man said, and Sam handed him two coins.

"I have money," Abe said, and Sam waved him off.

"Two-bits will get you a plate of food and a beer. The cooking is home-style, and very good. I eat here all the time when I'm in town."

"You don't live here?" Abe asked.

"Not much, I have a small place about five miles from here up Granite Creek. I share a claim with two others; they've been here a lot longer than I have."

"And exactly what are you doing here, Sam? Billy Ralston told me you were up here mining for gold, but that can't be all," Abe said.

"I am looking for gold, but not all of it's in the ground," Sam said. "I've met some fascinating people, and because of them drunk entirely too much whiskey in the process. There are no music halls, no real form of entertainment up here on the river, but they tell stories. Stories like you never heard before, tall tales that mystify the mind and make a man laugh himself half to death."

And then Sam smiled, that secret little grin that said he knew Abe was up to something. Nothing was said but Abe reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it just enough for Sam to get a glimpse of the badge and his eyes grew large.

"Oh my…whatever are you doing with that?" Sam asked.

"It's real, and it's mine…I work for the governor now," Abe said in a low voice. "I'll tell you about it later."

Sam quickly got busy telling him about a man named Simon Wheeler when their food arrived.

"This friend of a friend told me to look him up when I got out here, and I regret the day I did such a foolish thing. Wheeler had me cornered for darn near a week, telling me the tallest tales you ever heard. But when I got tired of listening to his voice I began to imagine his stories come alive in my mind."

"So you've been collecting stories, something to send to those fancy magazines back east?" Abe asked.

"Yes, some of them. Don't know if the city folk will take to some of the stories, Wheeler has an immoral mind; his humor is quite the rage out here. But I have been making notes, things I believe will develop if I think about them hard enough."

Sam smiled. "You want to visit my claim?"

"Yes," Abe said. "I need to get a quick lesson on being a miner."

Sam nodded. "Anything to do with that piece of tin in your wallet?"

"Everything, I'm back to being a spy."

Sam shook his head. "From what you told me I thought you would have learned a lesson the first time you tried that."

"I did, this time I get to be myself," Abe said. "You ever hear of Mason and Henry?"

"The outlaws? Goodness, Abe, those men are dangerous."

"Well I'm just a southern boy come out here to do some prospecting, but as you can see that didn't work out. I figure they might let me get close enough to find out what they have planned so I can tell the sheriff over in Watsonville. After that I'm going to disappear right quick and head back to San Francisco."

"So you want me to teach you a bit about mining just in case they ask?" Sam asked. "How long do you have?"

"A week, no more. Governor Low says they've been shooting at Union men, guess that means the war is just about over."

"I think you're right," Sam said. "It's only a matter of time before Richmond falls, and then General Lee will have to make a decision. Are you thinking about going back?"

"No, there's nothing there for me, but I ought to send a letter to my mother," Abe said. "What about you, I hear you aren't working for the news anymore."

Sam laughed. "Wasn't much of a paper, they didn't need Mark Twain anymore. I think I've had just about enough of this mining experience too, I'll go back to San Francisco for a while, but I want to do some more traveling. I have the beginnings of a good book which means I'll have to take a trip back east, but that can wait until the war ends."

Abe wiped the remaining gravy from his plate and looked up. "What do you suppose this was we just ate?"

Sam smiled. "Sometimes it doesn't pay to ask, but it's always good. I think that was bear steak, we have plenty of them up on the river."

"I've never seen a bear up close," Abe said.

"Not something I think a man really wants to do once he thinks about it. Come on, let's get on out to the camp before dark," Sam said.

They walked back to the hotel for their possessions and took Abe's horse, lashing their bags to the saddle and walking the whole way. There was little clear room for a man to ride up here in the foothills and a horse would certainly stumble over the rocks strewn about the banks of the river.

Sam told him about the mining operation in town where the holes went deep in the earth to find the gold laden quartz. The rock was hauled to the surface and put through the crusher before being dumped in the sluice for a water bath. Screening the crushed rock was the first level of inspection for traces of gold. This operation took dozens of men to accomplish and ran twenty-four hours a day.

"What we do up the creek is much simpler," Sam said. "Harder but simpler."

They arrived at the camp just about dusk. All Abe could see was a ramshackle pile of wood with a chimney that spouted smoke, he didn't imagine it was much nicer inside. Sam yelled as they approached and the door swung open, a figure backlit in the opening.

"Sam…that you?" A voice called.

"Yes, Jessie…it's me," Sam yelled back.

"Lord Almighty, you best come inside…who's that with you?"

"This is Abe, an old friend from San Francisco."

"Oh, I see you got a horse…better show him the pen out back and hope it holds up. We got a bear tried to get in here last night, just about gave Frank a fit," Jessie said.

Sam showed Abe the small pen out back. "We used to have a few goats but they run off," He explained. Abe pulled the horse into the pen and unloaded their bags. The walls were sturdy; it might hold off a bear, he wasn't sure. Abe pulled out the Henry rifle and made sure it was fully loaded.

The shack was tiny inside, barely enough room for two much less four. Jessie held out a cup of coffee with a smile.

"Welcome to our little piece of heaven," Jessie said. "That's Frank over there."

"Abe Wheelwright," Abe said to introduce himself.

"Oh? We heard about you," Frank said.

"If Sam did the telling I'm not so sure you got the truth," Abe laughed.

"Oh, now I'm offended," Sam said. "Well, I may have polished the story up a little."

They drank coffee, laced it with a drop of whiskey and ate beans. Jessie talked about the trace of gold they had been following up the creek about a mile. It seems finding the precious metal was a matter of luck, something that had been in short supply for the men this past year.

Abe spread his bedroll out on the floor beside the stove while the others retired to their sleeping spots along the wall. Jessie promised to lead them to his latest find in the morning, saying he would welcome the extra hand in digging out the rock.

It was late, maybe about four hours later when the horse outside started to kick and fuss. They heard the crack of wood as part of the wall at the back of the shack was kicked in.

"Damn…it's that bear again," Frank yelped.

Abe was already on his feet, the Henry rifle in hand.

"Don't you go out there," Jessie cautioned. "That bear will tear you up."

"I have to protect that horse," Abe said as he opened the door and moved outside.

The moon was up and casting a dim pale light as he moved into the yard in front of the shack. The horse was in a total panic and Abe could hear the sounds of the bear grunting and growling outside the pen.

"Come on out here, Mr. Bear," Abe yelled. "I got a surprise for you."

He pumped a cartridge into the chamber of the rifle and waited. There was silence out back and suddenly a large shape loomed up beside the shack. Abe backed up further as the bear ambled around the corner and spied him.

Damn, he's a big one, Abe thought…and then the bear charged. Abe hardly had to sight down the barrel of the rifle; the creature filled the space in front of him. Abe fired off a shot, and then in rapid succession four others. The bear crumbled to the ground and lay there panting until Abe took aim and fired a shot right into the bear's chest, then all was still.

"Abe?" Sam's voice called from within the shack.

"It's dead," Abe called back, and the men piled out of the shack. Frank brought a lantern and they examined the creature while Abe went out back to calm the horse. The pen was damaged, but the horse hadn't been touched. He stroked the flanks of the mare and felt her calm down.

"That's some shootin," Jessie said. "Maybe Sam was right about you. He said you were fearless."

Abe shook his head as he looked down at the bear. He had been afraid, just as any man might. But what he had done was born of necessity, he needed that horse.

"Guess we can stop eatin beans for a while," Frank said.

"Hallelujah," Jessie said, and Abe could only agree.

Morning found Frank out carving up the meat, while Jessie hung a lot of it from the rafters of the shack to dry. Abe and Sam went out to cut green wood to construct a drying rack to sit over a fire; they would begin to cure much of the bear meat for later use. In all that first day was spent at the shack, all thoughts of gold put off for the day.

Abe could see why Sam had partnered up with these men, they were both good company. Jessie had come to California from Georgia the year before the war started; he wanted no part of that conflict. Frank had arrived from New Hampshire the following year and they had met up in Angel's Camp.

They became partners of necessity since only a fool would try mining alone. Out here in the wilderness a man needed someone to watch his back, and bears weren't always the only predator. But Abe could see they had befriended Sam and that was good enough for him. Frank had cleaned most of the meat off the bear and then they used the horse to drag the carcass a mile or so down the draw where it was pushed into the river.

"Scavengers will take care of the rest," Jessie said as they walked back. He dug in his pocket and handed Abe the remains of a copper bullet. "Pulled that out of the critter's heart, where did you get those bullets?"

"The gun belongs to an acquaintance of mine. I was told if I was coming up here that I might have to shoot a bear and these would stop one, guess that was just about right."

Jessie looked Abe over. "I shoulda known, you ain't what you appear to be…but then neither is Sam. Meet some interesting people up here, never thought I would."

The week that followed taught Abe a whole lot about the miner's life, enough to prove it wasn't something he could ever do. For one, the water they worked in and around was cold as hell, snow melt off the mountains far to the east. Once a man got wet he stayed that way all day long, and even in the warm spring sunshine it was damn uncomfortable.

Jessie showed them where he had found a trace in the bend of the creek. He said that small pieces of quartz rock downstream had led him up here to where he could see the dirt and rock had washed out of the bank. Attacking the soil with shovels and picks they had uncovered more of the rock and pulled it down for examination.

Frank had built a sluice box. Water came in one end and tumbled the rocky soil down the length over strips of wood where it emptied into a sieve. They were kept busy piling rock into buckets and looking at the remains of what the soil had deposited in the sieve. Jessie reached in and pinched out a small lump off the screens. He held it in the palm of his hand and showed it to Abe.

"See, this is about as large as it comes, but that's gold," Jessie said.

Abe could see the tiny grains of something in the muddy water; it gave off a faint sparkle.

"That's so small…how can you even see that?" Abe asked.

"Takes practice. But we collect the gold trace in a bucket and then spread it out to dry in the sun. With a small sieve you wash out the brown color until all you have left is gold dust. It takes a long time but it adds up," Jessie said.

"If you could crush the rocks I bet you would find more," Abe said.

"And that's what Sam is doing right now."

Sam was seated on the bank of the creek beside a few buckets of quartz rock. Between his legs sat a metal bucket and in his hand was a hammer. He would pick up a rock and pound on it, dropping the remains back in the bucket. When the rocks had been pulverized he went over and poured it into the top of the sluice.

Abe sat down beside him and Sam looked over with a grin. "Pretty boring work."

"You ever find any nuggets?" Abe asked.

"No, not in this rock. Jessie says we might come across a vein runnin into the hillside, he knows a lot about geology. I figure if they do find a vein then they'll have to dig to follow it. Not sure I would want to go underground like that," Sam said.

"What made you come up here in the first place?"

Sam sighed and looked up at the sky. "A man can feel alive up here, all this fresh air, the trees and those mountains in the distance. It's poetic; it fills my mind with thoughts about nature and the very essence of our existence.

"At one time only the savages walked these hills, fished in these streams. That was only a few hundred years ago, and yet look at all the changes we have made. My mind looks ahead and knows that more people will come here, there will be more changes…I'm just not sure what kind.

"Men will dig all the gold out of the ground and walk away; I sometimes think it would have been better to leave all this to the savages. As a people we worship the precious metal whereas they only worshiped the land and its bounty. I was glad you killed that bear, just sad that it was even necessary."

"I understand that more than you might think," Abe said. "I grew up in the Shenandoah and men came and drove us out. Not for gold, but for an ideal. I can't believe that slavery was the only reason for this damn war, none of us on the farms around Quicksburg owned slaves. I think the whole war was brought about by someone's ideal of what the south ought to be, secession has been there all along since the beginning of the country."

Sam nodded. "It seems that once the politicians started yelling that no one with reason was heard above the fray." He looked up at Jessie and Frank digging in the soil. "Look at those two men, partners in a business that no one in their right mind ought to be doing. But that's north and south come together for a good reason, this country separated for no damn good reason at all.

"I understand the use of words. They can inflame a man's passion or make him laugh, but either way they can be hurtful and allow men to hate one another. But I agree, this conflict has been there since the colonies were formed. Democracy is only good if the people wish to be governed as one country. The South will never be the same, my friend…it will end up just like your bear."

Sam cracked a few more rocks and then dropped the hammer. "California is the Promised Land, Abe. I'm sure life here will change faster than any other place in our country, and you'll be a great part of it."

"I don't know what I am, Sam…or what I'm meant to be."

Sam smiled and laid a hand on Abe's arm. "But you will. All this adventure in life has just been your way of exploring your future, examining the options. The true worth of a man is not only judged by his deeds, Abe. Sometimes circumstances in life will force you into actions you could not imagine yourself performing. No, the true worth comes from inside and the way you value life itself."

"I have to leave tomorrow," Abe said. "I have to get on with this task the governor set for me."

"You be careful, just being a southerner isn't any guarantee. Men like those in this gang just aren't right in the head, they're dangerous and unpredictable. Get what you need and get away from there fast as you can."

Sam went back to breaking the rock and Abe went over to help Jessie move some large rocks. They tipped a few of the small boulders into the creek and watched as the waters swirled around the holes.

"Well, I'll be…." Jessie yelled. "Frank, come look at this…Sam, you too."

The four of them stared down at the bed of the creek, the area that had now been exposed.

"That's gold, boys…pure gold," Frank said.

"How do we get it out?" Sam asked.

"Very carefully. If we stir that soil up the whole thing will wash away. Let's build a diversion first," Frank said.

The bottom of the creek held a patch of golden soil packed down by the boulder so Frank began to pile rocks upstream, cutting down the flow of water. Within the hour they had stilled the water flow around the area but it was still a half foot deep. Frank smiled and picked up their water barrel. He quickly knocked out the bottom and held it up over the spot before pushing it down gently into the bottom.

Jessie scooped the mud off the bottom of the creek into a bucket until all traces of gold inside the confines of the barrel had disappeared. Frank set a flat rock on top of the barrel and they took the bucket full of mud over to the bank where they picked up the fine sieve.

Jessie fed the mud into the sieve a handful at a time as Sam gently rinsed it in the creek. He turned the sieve up so they could all see it glitter with the precious metal that covered the bottom.

Frank clapped Abe on the back. "Dang it, boy…you brought us luck."

"Is that a lot of gold?" Abe asked.

"For us it is," Jessie said. "That boulder just compacted it down in that one spot; I'd say that's a few hundred dollars worth anyways." He looked up the creek at all the boulders standing in the water. "Well, we might get lucky…lots more rocks to move."

They were up with the dawn and Abe packed his gear back on the horse. He had only been up here for ten days, but he was beginning to catch a glimpse of what Sam had said about feeling alive. He said his goodbyes to Jessie and Frank, wishing them the best of luck.

Sam followed him back into Angel's Camp to say farewell and pick up a few supplies.

"I'll probably be back in San Francisco before you will," Sam said. "Spring will be here soon, time for me to move on."

Abe reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Deliver this to Zach for me, will you?"

"I don't suppose your friends know exactly what you're about the next few weeks."

"No, Sam…I can't tell them."

"Then I won't either, no sense in worrying them needlessly. You have a good trip and keep your wits about you."

"See you when I return," Abe said. They shook hands and parted. Sam watched Abe ride off to the west and looked down at the envelope in his hands. Damn, he didn't ask where Zach was staying. No matter, Jenny Ardmore would know.

"The tempo needs to be just a bit faster in this section," Victor said.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault," Zach said.

"No, I think we're all tired," Emil said, and Zach smiled at him, thankful that someone had finally said what he was thinking.

The rehearsal had occupied all morning, four hours at least, but Zach had avoided looking at the clock on the mantel. Emil Rogers was a dear man who spoke his mind and seemed to be the driving force behind their little chamber group.

His early career in banking had been set aside when he married the rich daughter of a wealthy Boston family. As he liked to joke, that had only been his first mistake. But they had three children, the eldest boy remaining in Boston to attend school while the family took a ship to California.

Emil now worked for his father-in-law who was blissfully three thousand miles away. The man was sorry to see the advancement of a rail line between the two coasts; it would only tempt the boss to visit his daughter. But his first love would always be music, and he was quite good for a man who had never had a single lesson on the viola.

Victor Hauser had become Zach's particular friend. He had travelled Europe as a young man, studying the cello with some of the great musicians on the continent. He was single and thus could tell the most scandalous stories of his life in Paris, things that made Zach understand they were much alike.

Victor was just twenty-four and yet seemed so much more mature and worldly. His forward nature sometimes made him hint at what he saw as a love interest between Zach and the tall handsome youth named Abraham. He would not be so rude as to ask in a forthright manner, in time he figured Zach would reveal his feelings.

Although Victor was hardly effeminate, he did have a particular male friend and confided that fact to Zach during a luncheon date.

"He's a handsome devil, I was quite smitten with him at first sight," Victor said. "But we have to be careful, he has a high government job and that can't be risked."

"So how did you meet?" Zach asked.

Victor sighed. "We met at the gentleman's club, do you know of the Golden Gate?"

Zach shook his head. "No, I've never been to any clubs."

"Well you're still young, the members might frown on your sudden appearance in their midst. Perhaps an entertainment, we could play a duet at afternoon tea. I'm sure Evan would like to meet you."

If anything this was no great surprise, Zach had already decided that Evan favored the company of men. Even before Abe left to find Clemens, they had discussed what they saw in their new friend. Matthew was blissfully unaware of Evan's inner feelings, but then unlike the eyes which gazed at Zach the man had never looked at the younger boy with any desires.

Abe had been the stoic. "I imagine there are more than a few men who find you attractive, I understand that."

"And that doesn't bother you…why doesn't it bother you?" Zack asked.

"Because we have a commitment they know nothing about," Abe said. "They didn't sleep on the hard ground beside you or taste the bitter tang of gunpowder as we fought off outlaws and Indians. What we have is unique, something they could only aspire to have."

And he was right, Zach knew his love for Abe was strong and faced no challenge. It was probably that factor which made him feel the pain of separation. One lousy telegram that didn't say much, but he understood why. Abe might seek Clemens but he was going to be off doing something else as well, something that had to remain secret.

But the underground association with men of like mind was attractive. At least if Zach could not, and would not participate, he could observe and thus learn a great deal in the process. Victor promised to arrange a small performance within the week, and so he did.

The gentleman's club was known quietly as Golden Gate Club. The wide entrance to the San Francisco Bay had been named the Golden Gate some years before by the eminent explorer John Fremont. This was before the discovery of gold in the mountains, but Fremont only named it so because of the potential the straits had allowing access to the riches of the new territory.

The new game of baseball had captured the imagination of so many people in the city that the game was being played on vacant lots all across town. The Golden Gate was formed as a sporting club, the perfect disguise since membership was exclusive. It was housed in a grand old building, and was right next to a large playing field in the southern part of the city.

Victor led Zach up the steps to the door emblazoned with a baseball logo. Their instruments had filled the carriage on the way over and now the cello rested on the top steps as Victor rang the bell. A tall sedate gentleman opened the door and smiled.

"Mr. Hauser, so good to see you, sir," The man said.

"Thank you, Leonard. This is my good friend Mr. Zachary Stroh; we're to play for tea."

"Yes…yes, how delightful," Leonard said. "The other gentlemen are in the sitting room awaiting the pleasure of your musical performance. May I take your coats and hats, gentlemen?"

Despite the quiet exterior, the inside of the club was lavish in its decoration. Zach followed Victor down the hall towards the rear. They passed a grand staircase to the upper floors and walked past a dining room that Zach estimated would seat several dozens. The sitting room was at the rear and the doors were already open awaiting their arrival.

There were more than a dozen men seated around the room as they entered, the first one to rise was Evan Dennison. He walked over and gave Victor a hug, and then kissed his cheek. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he gazed at Zach.

"Hello, Zachary…so glad you could come," Evan said. And then they hugged but did not kiss.

Evan turned to the assembly and smiled. "Gentlemen, I give you Zachary Stroh, a most talented young violinist." The group applauded quietly and Zach nodded in reply.

They set their instruments aside and were given tea before they sat down in the circle formed by chairs and divans in the room. The other men were silent and it was Evan who cleared his throat to speak.

"I must be open with you, Zach. There are some here that are uncomfortable with such a young man present, but Victor and I have assured them of your discretion and solid character. What we are, and who we are will not be discussed at this meeting, I'm sure you understand why."

Zach nodded, and Evan looked at him, waiting for a comment. Zach knew he had to say something to alleviate the concerns he felt around him, but what.

"You have all been young at some point in life, and so I ask you to remember how it was for you in the beginning. My whole life had been adrift until I met someone very special, I could only find myself in shock when I understood that what I felt for him was love.

"He has earned my complete trust and my undying affections; it's what motivates my life. I understand the need for discretion. What I feel will not be accepted by those who see it as their place to criticize. I ask that you do not reject me for my youth for I am grateful to be here in your presence, it validates who I am. And who knows, someday I may be able to join with you and share in the fellowship."

One by one Zach had seen the men relax, the wall of resistance came down. He had spoken the one truth that they all shared. There had been that moment of understanding for each of them at some point in life…youth was no obstacle to sharing knowledge.

Evan smiled and nodded to Victor. "Zachary would make a fine addition to our club. If he will allow I will place his name before the committee."

Zach nodded in return. Victor patted his hand. "Well said, my friend…shall we overwhelm them with our talent?"

And so they played the music they had practiced so well. There were subtle smiles across the faces around them. Some sat with eyes closed, transported to other times in life when sounds like this had different meanings. But although Zach paid close attention to the strength of his instrument he couldn't fail to see the smile on Evan's face.

The boy was magnificent, Evan thought, and his talent only accentuated the beauty of his character. In all his years he could not remember a boy so attractive, and that made him sigh…if only. But Abe was the lucky man here, even if his presence was strangely absent. Evan knew Abe was off on some errand for Billy, his confidant at the bank had told him as much.

But Zach seemed to enjoy their company, and even if he did not dally in the upstairs rooms like so many others it would be a coup to have him here as a member. He would speak to Lamont; the boy would make an excellent subject for a portrait, one that he would gladly pay a king's ransom to own.

Victor and Zach played for an hour and received the accolades of the group, men who obviously had a taste for classical music. Zach knew he could not ask about the members and their place in San Francisco society and business. But he could judge them all successful by their dress and manners, these were important men.

After the concert they were served more tea and light finger foods. The conversation turned to baseball and the games that would be played in just a few short months.

"Have you ever played?" Victor asked.

"No, I've seen a few games being played in the empty lot behind the Drake, but I know nothing about the rules."

Victor laughed. "Well the rules are flexible and always disputed. We must establish some order to the game before someone really gets hurt. Right now the game seems to dissolve into fisticuffs at the drop of a hat. We need to have a judge on the field and sheriffs at every base to prevent brawls before they happen."

"An umpire, something like the English use in their cricket games," Zach suggested.

"Precisely…goodness, what an idea. I wonder if there are any Englishmen in town?"

Victor dropped Zach off at the Drake and he was just entering the building when he heard his named called. The voice sounded familiar and he looked across the street to see Sam Clemens fast approaching.

"Zachary…how good to see you," Sam said.

"I might say the same…how have you been?" Zack asked.

"I just arrived back in town," Sam said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out Abe's envelope. "I promised to deliver this soon as I could."

Zach eyed the envelope hungrily and yet he didn't want to rush away up to the room and read it. But Sam was well versed in the people he knew, he could only imagine how the boy pined for his companion.

"Look, I have an errand to run. If you will give me the better part of an hour I will return and take you off to dinner," Sam said.

Zach smiled. "That would be delightful; you are the most pleasant company."

Sam bowed graciously. "See you in just a while." And he took off up the street.

Zach rushed up to the room and carefully laid his Klotz violin in the wardrobe. The envelope was heavy, but he couldn't imagine what was inside. He broke the seal and looked in at the sparkling metal on the bottom. Slowly he poured the gold dust out into his palm.

He sat on the bed, gold in one hand and the pages of his letter in the other.

"My dear sweet boy…" It began and Zach felt the tears well up in his eyes. Abe had called him dear in only their most private of moments, and the words now brought them closer together. The pages were an account of his meeting with the governor, the presentation of the badge and his trip east to find Clemens.

"I don't suppose I need tell you that if asked he will regale you with all sorts of exaggerations about our time together so I must qualify that experience in advance," Abe wrote. "The bear was an ordinary sort; I only fired five times to end its life. I did not discover the Mother Lode, just worked myself half to death for a week to send you the small token present in this envelope."

Zach smiled at the description and glanced at the gold once again. It might fill a thimble but not much more. And then he read on, hoping for a clue as to what Abe was about this very minute.

"I am going down south a ways towards Stockton maybe over to the coast at Watsonville. The task I have been given from on high is quite tedious, and may take a few more weeks of the time I would rather be spending with you. But I have learned to be cautious in my endeavors and will return to you by the end of the month in time to attend your glorious concert."

Zach nodded, he would be angry if Abe missed the event. No, disappointed, he could never be angry with Abe; he could only feel the blessing of their love.

"I miss you beyond my poor ability to express in words the feeling of loss when you are not in my arms. All the gold in the hills of California could not buy me away from you for one more minute if I had my way. But duty calls and I have placed myself in a position to answer. I will explain everything on my return, until then I send my undying love and gratitude for the life we share. Abe."

Zach could only smile. It seems Clemens was rubbing off on Abe, the flowery words spoke to the heart. He sought out the small jar that had held his bow rosin and wiped it clean; the small amount of gold dust filled it about halfway. Zach washed his face and looked up in the mirror. The lines of worry had been etched on his face all week, they were now gone.

Abe would be home for the concert, if not sooner. He would have those strong arms around him and they would…they could…do all sorts of things. It was Victor who had put fresh thoughts in his head. The things men did to one another in Paris had sounded intriguing. Zach was sure the human anatomy would allow such pleasures…it was something he wanted to try.

Zach brushed his hair and straightened his cravat. Yes, when Abe came back he would find a young man's appetite for love had grown in new directions. But now it was time to go meet Clemens and he put away his lustful thoughts…for the moment.


On to Chapter Ten

Back to Chapter Eight

Chapter Index

Chris James Home Page