Chapter 15 #2
I went on quickly, “The movie made it look like you were trying to get rid of Cole, so you trapped him in a building and set it on fire. Bess attempted to rescue him, and in the process, she was the one who died as Cole got away.” I watched all the emotions flickering across his face.
“It started a fire that swept through San Francisco, killing others and destroying an unimaginable amount of property, which led a vigilante posse to hang you.”
His emotions cleared. “And this was all based on an account given by Cole Goodman?”
“Yes.”
“But nothing like that happened.”
“I know. Instead, Bess died in her sleep, which led me to believe that she knew it was supposed to happen and she changed something. Probably to protect you.”
“She gave up Johnnie to protect me?” Pain lowered his shoulders as he turned away again.
“The book was never written, and the movie was never made,” I said, just above a whisper. “When I returned to 1929 the day after, everything had been erased. No one had any memory of it but me.” I paused. “But then something else happened.”
“What?”
This part I was even more nervous to tell him. “I saw Cole outside Sadie’s place a few days before we left San Francisco. I wanted to know what happened, so I approached him.”
Sam’s face was devoid of emotion as he listened.
“He told me that he usually went to see Bess, but the night the fire was supposed to happen, Bess asked Cole to meet her at the docks just before sunrise—to run away with him.”
Sam’s entire body stiffened.
“I think it was just a ruse,” I assured him. “To change whatever history she knew was supposed to happen.”
That seemed to relax Sam a little.
“Cole told me that when he finally realized what happened, he was going to confront Bess, but then he crossed paths with Paddy and learned that Bess had died.”
Sam looked down at his hands and sighed.
“I told Cole that nothing good would come of his joining up with Jim, and that he should head to Sacramento like he planned and write his book.”
With a frown, Sam glanced up at me.
“The next day, when I got back to 1929, I realized Cole must have taken my advice. He wrote a different version of Gold Rush! and several other fictional books. I don’t think he’s in San Francisco anymore.”
Sam was quiet for a moment and then said, “As much as I despise Cole Goodman, I don’t wish him any harm. I hope he is in Sacramento, and I hope what you’ve said is true.”
“Why do you despise him?”
Sam let out a breath as his gaze wandered to the horizon where the sun was setting.
“He was infatuated with Bess. At first, I think she liked his attention, but then he took it too far and misused her. He swore he loved her, but after that night, Bess tried to avoid him. There was little I could do, except keep him away from her. There is no justice in San Francisco, no law.”
“Do you think he had plans to misuse her again the night the fire was supposed to start? And that somehow it caused a chain of events that would lead to a fire? Is that what Bess stopped?”
“All I know is that if I had been there the night he hurt her, I could have been capable of anything. If he had attempted it again . . . there’s no telling what I might have done. But I wouldn’t have set anything on fire.”
“Perhaps that’s the answer, then,” I said.
“Maybe Bess knew it was going to happen again, and she made sure it didn’t, thereby changing history and forfeiting her life in 1849.
She knew she wouldn’t be here for Johnnie either way, but if she changed the course of history, you would be here for him.
” I couldn’t imagine the pain it had caused Bess to make that decision.
He turned back to me. “Are you telling me that Bess had to forfeit her life with her son to protect me because Cole was going to try it again?”
“I don’t know.”
Sam’s anger returned, and he fisted his hands as he stared into the branches he hadn’t yet set on fire. “It seems Cole has continued to hurt Bess and the people she loves.” After a moment, he shook his head. “I need a minute.”
As he walked away from camp, other questions simmered in my mind.
Questions that would have to wait.
I still didn’t understand Bess’s relationship with Paddy.
Darkness was quickly falling on our camp as I started the fire and set the beans to warm over the flames.
Sam hadn’t gone far. I could still hear him on the other side of the thicket, pacing.
He mumbled from time to time, and at first I thought he was venting, but then I realized he was praying.
I couldn’t make out all the words, but I knew he was wrestling with God, and I tried not to eavesdrop.
I’d had my own moments of wrestling that I would never want anyone else to hear. It was hard to understand why God would allow any of this to happen. Why did Bess have to leave her son behind? Why did Cole seem to come out on top, no matter what scenario had played out?
I wasn’t sure how much time Sam would need, so I made myself busy feeding the mules and setting up our camp. I’d never slept on the trail before and wasn’t sure where to put the bedrolls, so I left those alone.
When the beans were hot, I took them off the fire and set them aside. Sam had quieted, but I wouldn’t disturb him.
A rustling on the trail brought my head up, and a minute later, a man walked into the clearing.
“Good evening,” he said in a Southern drawl. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, miss.”
My senses heightened as he drew closer. He was a middle-aged man with thick whiskers and worn clothes, but he carried himself like a gentleman and his cultured voice suggested he was educated, though the way he looked at me put me on edge.
“I noticed your fire,” he said as he readjusted the pack on his back. “Thought I’d come on over and share a meal and some company. Didn’t expect to find a woman. Alone.”
The last word made my skin crawl.
“She’s not alone.” Sam walked up behind me, one hand on his pistol, and slipped his other hand around my waist in a protective and possessive manner.
I stiffened—not from his forward actions, which I knew were meant to send a message to the stranger, but from his touch.
Despite the arrival of the Southerner, I was very conscious of Sam’s hand.
“Well, now.” The man nodded, his entire demeanor changing. “I’m right happy to hear it. A woman could get into all kinds of trouble out here on her own.”
“So could a man.” Sam’s voice was low, sent with a warning.
The man studied him for a moment, as if he recognized Sam, but then he motioned to the fire with his head. “Mind if I join you? I haven’t had a meal with proper company in weeks.”
Sam glanced down at me for my thoughts, and when I looked up, I realized how close we were standing. My pulse sped, and my breath caught. Something shifted in his eyes as awareness grew between us.
“Of course you can join us,” Sam said, though he didn’t take his gaze off me.
Even though I agreed, I didn’t want the stranger to interrupt us.
There were still things I wanted to discuss with Sam, like why he’d been convicted of killing his brother and how Johnnie had witnessed it.
I wanted to know more about Paddy and how he was involved.
And now that we’d talked about Bess again, I wanted to ask Sam if he knew anything else about her other path.
How far in the future had she gone? Did he have any clues?
But right now, all I could think about was Sam’s touch and how hard it was to pull away from him.
“My name is Walter Dixon,” the man said, extending his hand to Sam, “from Savannah, Georgia.”
Sam grasped Walter’s hand. “I’m from London, England, by way of the penal colony in New South Wales, Australia.”
Mr. Dixon’s eyes widened, and he became visibly nervous as he pulled his hand away and took a step back. Even though Sam hadn’t said his name, the look on Mr. Dixon’s face suggested he had suspected it was Sam and now was convinced.
“Sorry to bother you and the missus.” He tripped as he continued backward.
“I was just stopping by to give a friendly warning. I don’t know if you meant to, but you’re off the beaten trail, and you’re more susceptible to bandits and thieves.
Two miners were killed in their sleep just a week ago in these parts, all their gold stolen.
Don’t know where you’re headed . . .” He paused, as if waiting to see if we’d tell him.
When we didn’t, he continued, “I’d move on as soon as you can and head back toward the river. More foot traffic there.”
I glanced at Sam, but he stared at the man, not willing to offer any information. He looked fierce and unaffected by Mr. Dixon’s warning.
“I best be getting along,” Mr. Dixon said. “I would have liked to enjoy your meal, missus, but I think I’ll take my own advice and head on over to Nicolaus’s settlement.”
“We’ll be heading there ourselves, come morning,” Sam said.
“You passed it already,” Mr. Dixon said. “It’s about a mile southwest of here.” He nodded toward the setting sun. “’Night.” He tipped the brim of his hat and then scurried out of camp, disappearing into the deepening shadows without waiting for us to respond.
I glanced at Sam, a question in my eyes.
“Do you want to follow him?” he asked. “Would you feel safer in the company of others?”
I shook my head and went to the saddlebags. “The mules need rest, and so do we.” I pulled out two tin plates and forks before I returned to the fire to scoop the beans onto them. Sam tended the fire, glancing over his shoulder, no doubt to make sure Mr. Dixon was gone.
“Do you think he knows who you are?” I asked, handing him a plate of beans.
“I think he suspected it.”
“You’d better be careful, or people are going to start spreading a rumor that I am your wife.” I paused, realizing why The Annals of San Francisco might have said we were married.
He took the plate, his brown-eyed gaze meeting mine.
I didn’t let the plate go as I asked, “Why do you tell people you were in the penal colony?”