Chapter 37
Sierra Foothills
August 1854
Alden stared down at the book in his lap, but he didn’t turn the page. Isabelle had surprised him in many ways, but he’d been shocked when she announced their marriage to the men traveling with them.
Her declaration was a veneer, of course. Another layer to hide behind. He understood why she needed to slip into this role. Like Mrs. Dawson said, the title of marriage was a reasonable way to fight off unwelcome advances from men desperate for female companionship. In contrast to his thoughts about Mrs. Dawson, he quite liked the idea of being married to Isabelle.
The woman sitting next to him was beautiful and confident. Brave and compassionate. Elegant and aloof. If only he could gently peel back each layer under her lofty air, get to know what was hidden deep inside. If only he still had the income and status to engage her.
Back east, he would have pursued Isabelle Labrie with his whole heart, but she wouldn’t have to ward off advances from him here. Now that she realized he was a proponent of freedom, she was civil to him, but she’d made it clear that there was nothing personal between them.
He turned the page of his book, trying to refocus on the words: “Each of us has a natural right—from God—to defend his person, his liberty, and his property.”
He agreed with Frederic Bastiat. God had given each of them a natural right to defend their lives and their liberty.
The murky area in their country’s law was the definition of property. Mr. Webb and his own father would say that they had the right to defend their property, including their slaves, discounting the fact that they were stealing away another person’s liberty.
Greed—legal plunder, as Bastiat called it—was the root of many of their problems. When lawmakers made laws for personal gain, it perverted the whole system. Legal plunder meant injustice for people who’d been stripped of their natural rights.
People like Isabelle were working to give these natural rights back. Stephan said she’d heroically defended Persila, a stranger to her until Stephan brought her into the hotel. Alden admired her greatly for her public and personal stance.
The stagecoach was descending into the valley now, toward a river that streamed down from a lake flanked on both sides by willow trees and clumps of driftwood. On one of the banks was a makeshift mining camp of canvas tents and wooden rockers scattered across the landscape. The driver said they were spending the night at this camp before fording the river and finishing their journey to Columbia.
If he couldn’t find Judah in Columbia, he’d either find work in town or mark off a claim outside it. There would be no fancy hotel for him and Isaac. He’d be happy if they could afford a tent with the little of his money that remained.
The coach stopped a few yards from the camp, and the passengers all stepped swiftly out into the fresh air. It was warm here, but nothing like the heat in the city. Instead of smoke, it smelled like wild honeysuckle and pine.
The driver already had a tent pitched for his passengers, and several men from town sold them a quarter of antelope to roast. The river cascaded down a waterfall from the lake, but here the water loped peacefully around boulders beside the tent, pooling in the middle before it continued downstream.
Samuel rushed toward the river, splashing water on his head and hair. “Let’s take a swim.”
The other men agreed before turning warily toward Isabelle.
She pointed back toward the tent. “I’ll wait in there until you’re done.”
Isaac eyed the river. “I can wait in the tent too.”
Alden shook his head. “You need a bath.”
“So does Miss La—”
Alden interrupted him. “I’m sure Mrs. Payne doesn’t want to go swimming with us.”
Isabelle laughed. “Perhaps you can bring me a basin of water so I can wash off inside.”
Isaac checked the river again, and Alden realized that he’d probably never been swimming before. His mind wandered back to the hours he and Benjamin spent swimming in their pond and the creek nearby, at the fun they’d had racing and diving and pretending to ward off snakes. Every boy, in his opinion, should know how to swim.
Alden lowered his voice. “If you can learn to read, you can easily learn to swim.”
Samuel filled a basin for Isabelle, and she took it into the tent. Then the men stripped down and plunged into the cold pool. Mossy boulders surrounded their swimming hole, water rushing over each rock. The men swam toward the middle of the river, but Isaac stood on a shallow ledge, splashing himself to cool off.
Alden called for Isaac to join them. When the boy shook his head, Alden swam back to persuade him. So much had changed since Isaac had sat perched on the back of Eliza’s carriage, determined not to move. He’d grown in the past seven months, in stature and in experience. Now he needed to conquer this river.
“I’ll stay beside you,” Alden said.
Isaac glanced back at the shore behind them, and for the first time, Alden noticed something on the boy’s right shoulder blade. It was a red scar shaped like the bud of a rose with the letter V inside.
Anger flared inside him. How could Victor take a branding iron to a child—his son—searing the skin as a reminder that Isaac would always belong to him.
Isaac turned back around, and Alden blinked, trying to refocus his gaze and the thoughts coursing through his mind. “You can’t learn to swim unless you jump in all the way.”
Isaac scanned the surface. “It’s too deep.”
Alden lifted one of his arms and dipped it into the water. “If you paddle like this, you won’t need the ground.”
Isaac waded a few inches deeper, testing the water. Then he stepped into its depths. He struggled at first, grappling for air. Alden saw the panic in his eyes, but still he waited, a few feet away, for the boy to catch his stride.
In seconds, Isaac’s head was firmly above the water, the fear in his eyes fading away as he swam in circles. Then he paddled toward one of the large rocks until his feet found stability again. “I did it!” he exclaimed.
Alden returned his smile. “Yes, you did.”
“Persila would be proud of me.”
“Definitely. Another bath, and you learned how to swim.” Alden stood in the water near him, carefully choosing his next words. “Guess who I saw in Sacramento City before we left?”
Isaac’s eyes grew wide. “Persila?”
He nodded.
Isaac splashed the water. “I want to see her!”
“I know you do, and she wanted to see you too, but she was on her way out of town.”
“With the Webbs?”
“No. She was going north.”
“By herself?”
“With Stephan.” Alden smiled. “She had her freedom paper in her hands.”
“She’ll be safe forever, then.”
“Yes, she will. I told her that you were safe too and that you’d found work in the city.”
Isaac dragged one hand through the water, the wave slapping against a rock. “We can’t work at Miss Lab—your wife’s hotel any longer.”
Alden smiled. “No, but we’ll find other work in Columbia.”
“Do you really want to mine?”
“Perhaps for a season.”
“Maybe we’ll find a field of gold after all.”
“Or at least enough gold dust to buy our food.”
Isaac stepped toward the shore. “I want to eat right now.”
“Then let’s build a campfire.”
The men tossed a towel between themselves to dry off, then slipped on their trousers, securing them over their chests with suspenders. Before Isaac put on his shirt, he called out toward the tent. “We’re finished, Missus Payne!”
Isabelle opened the tent flap. Her cheeks were pink, and her dark-brown hair hung loosely over her shoulders as if she’d just brushed it. “I wish I could have gone swimming with you.”
Alden reached for a knot of driftwood, trying to rid his mind of the image of Isabelle swimming with him in the water.
As she stepped toward them, Isaac grabbed his shirt from the low limb of a tree. Isabelle’s eyes locked onto Isaac’s shoulder, to the raised scar that marked him a slave. Her lips rounded as she froze in place, and Alden thought for a moment that she might faint.
“Isaac,” she finally said, her voice quivering. “I was curious—”
He shook his wet head, spattering her and Alden. Then he buttoned his shirt. “Curious about what?”
“Were you born on the Payne plantation?”
“No. I was born at the Duvall’s.”
She knitted her fingers together in front of her waist. “You said your mother ran away when you were a baby.”
Isaac picked up a piece of driftwood and tossed it on the pile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know the name of your mother?”
Alden saw the boy smile, but he didn’t hear Isaac’s answer.
Isabelle backed away from him. “I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I have to take a walk,” she said, but it looked to Alden like she might collapse instead.
He hurried to her side and saw tears streaming from her eyes like the river water over the rocks. “Are you all right?”
She waved him off. “I just need a few minutes.”
Then she hurried away from him and the mining camp, forging her own trail down the riverbank.