The Gold Seekers by William Stuart Long Read Free Book Online Page B

to it, you see. Your father—Captain Jasper Morgan, that is—why, he’s gone off to ‘Frisco, an’ we reckon he’s taken—”
    “Please!” The girl’s interruption was shrill, the color draining from her cheeks as understanding dawned. But she controlled herself and added, with the same dignity that she had displayed during Crocker’s attempted explanation, “You are mistaken. Captain Morgan is not my father. I bear no relation to him, sir—none at all.”
    There was another prolonged silence as the members of the committee slowly took in the implications of her denial. Luke was the first to find his tongue.
    Crossing to her side, he asked quietly, “What is your name? Tom—Tom Gardener told us it was Mercy, and we thought you were Morgan’s daughter. We took it for granted, I guess, because—well, Morgan’s old enough to be your father, and Tom said … You remember Tom, don’t you?”
    “Yes, I remember him,” the girl responded. She faced him unflinchingly, although Luke, feeling acutely sorry for her, saw tears in her eyes, and her hands, clasped tightly in front of her, were visibly trembling. “My name is Mercedes Louisa Bancroft, but I’m called Mercy. My—my father was Henry Bancroft, but he—he is dead. My mother also. They both died of the cholera a year ago, when our wagon train reached Fort Kearny on the way to the diggings. I—I came on with the train to Sacramento. I was alone, I—some of the Folk on the train were good to me, those who had started with us from Illinois and knew my parents. But I—I did not want to be a burden to them. So I …” She choked on a sob. “I wanted to fend for myself, but—”
    Ephraim Crocker rapped with his gavel, but the warning was unnecessary, for the men were silent and still, avoiding each other’s eyes. They had all heard of the terrible cholera epidemic of ‘49, which had ravaged the Mississippi Valley and been carried to the Platte and Green rivers, along the route taken by many of the wagon trains from the East.
    Crocker said, thinking to spare the girl from having to make revelations she might not care to admit to in front of strangers, “So you took employment with Jasper Morgan, did you, missy? An’ he brought you here?”
    Mercy Bancroft looked up at him gratefully, blinking back her tears. “Yes, sir. The captain told me that he had a cabin here and that he would pay me to cook and clean for him and give me my keep. He seemed to be a gentleman, and I thought—” She broke off, a wave of embarrassed color creeping into her pale cheeks.
    Once again Ephraim Crocker sought to spare her. “I reckon that’s all we need to be told on that score. Agreed?” He glanced about him, defying any of the members of his committee to raise objections. None did, and he went on. “But maybe you can help us to conclude this inquiry by sayin’ whether or not Captain Morgan is likely to come back here. We know he’s gone to ‘Frisco, an’ I guess we know why, but did he tell you as it was his intention to come back?”
    “No, sir.” The girl shook her head. “He’ll not be back. He left me this.” She took a small buckskin bag from the pocket of her dress. “He said that it was in lieu of wages and that I best return where I came from. But I—I couldn’t do that. My folks came from Lawson, Illinois, but that’s just a small farming community, and I don’t have anyone there. And in Sacramento—” She bit her lower lip and did not go on.
    The man named Sam said impatiently, “It’s plain enough, Eph—Morgan’s a murderer an’ a damned thieving rogue. We’ll not see hide nor hair of him back here if he’s got anythin’ to do with it. Let’s quit wastin’ time. We got claims to work, don’t we?”
    There was a concerted murmur of assent. Ephraim Crocker gave vent to a resigned sigh. “We got to do things legal, Sam,” he pointed out. “An’ there’s this poor young woman here, orphaned an’ left on her own. She’s as