Golden Arrows

Copyright © 2011 by John Chelson.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ISBN: 978-1-4620-2640-1 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-2641-8 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 06/08/2011

Contents

Acknowledgement

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to my wonderful wife, Barbara, for her support throughout this project and her valuable input to the manuscript. Thanks also to my grandson, Eric, for his resourcefulness. Finally, I wish to acknowledge the tremendous work done by Natasha LeSage in editing the manuscript through its several iterations.

One

One night at about eleven o’clock, I heard screaming coming from down the hall of the boarding house where I was living. Right away I could smell the smoke and knew the place was on fire.

Isaac Pritchard paused reliving those horrific moments in his mind. Raising his hand in the air he continued. Those old wood buildings were tinder boxes just waiting to go up. I tried to escape down the hall but the smoke and flames made any hope of getting down the stairs, impossible.

He looked at the men around him. Raising his hand upward, he spoke softer. I was on the third floor and thought for sure I was a goner. When I ran out into the hallway, my door slammed shut behind me and I couldn’t get back in. I was able to fight through the flames and get to the window at the end of the hallway. I wrapped a section of curtain around my foot and kicked out the glass. I looked down into the darkness, but I couldn’t make out a thing. I had two choices; stay and be burned to death or jump from the third floor into the unknown. Before Isaac continued he lifted his hand to cover his eyes as he re-lived that terrifying moment. With excruciating pain all over my body from the flames and the smoke in my lungs and eyes, I knew that I just had to get out of there. I chose to jump.

Did anyone else make it out? One of the men asked.

Isaac looked at the man, asking the question. He shook his head no.

I don’t think so. By the time I broke the glass out of the window, I didn’t hear the screams anymore. I heard later that all the occupants were burned to death. They said only a few bodies were found. The fire was so intense that it must have cremated them I guess. Since I couldn’t get back into my room, everything I owned was burned in the fire.

Isaac paused, furrowing his brow. The men waited patiently for him to continue.

When I jumped out that window I landed on the roof of the building next door, so luckily I only fell two stories, not three. The slope of the roof made me fall onto my right side and I ended up breaking my leg, hip and arm. After what seemed like hours, a fireman found me lying on the roof and with the help of several of his fellow firefighters, got me down onto the ground.

Again he paused. No one else spoke either. Finally, Isaac looked around the table nodding before he continued.

It took months for me to recover from the burns and broken bones, but eventually I was able to get out of the hospital and rent a room at another boarding house. Shortly thereafter is when I started working at the wharves as a stevedore and eventually retired from there. Anyway, that’s the story of how I got this ugly face and limp.

As usual, all the men started talking and tried to change the subject. Even though they had heard Isaac’s story before, they knew it was hard for him to talk about such a terrible ordeal. They also knew his life had been very hard.

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Early spring in the year 1903, Isaac Prichard sat at the same table in the little cafe on Market Street, spinning tales of his past, especially that one. He talked about the many years he had lived in San Francisco, residing in an apartment above the Gaylord Cafe for most of those years.

In addition to the cafe, the five-story brick building had forty, one bedroom apartments and a small neighborhood market on the ground floor. Leonard Gaylord owned the building and the cafe. In 1877 he bought the old dilapidated wood structure that once stood on the site. Due to the many fires that ravaged San Francisco in those early years, the local government had encouraged land owners to tear down the vulnerable wood structures and re-build, using stronger, sturdier masonry building products. Leonard understood the dangers associated with the wood building and in 1878 tore down the smaller wood structure and built the five-story apartment building.

Isaac Pritchard and his cronies occupied that same table at the café every afternoon and most of them always stayed until after dinner. The number of friends gathered varied from day to day, but usually there were enough to fill the table for six.

The cafe had enough space for fifteen tables. Most of these tables were large enough to seat six, but there were a few smaller ones that would seat only four. The tables were covered with colorful oilcloth, which made them easy to keep clean and were also less expensive than having to launder linen tablecloths. The wooden chairs were comfortable but almost all of them made distinct creaking sounds from their extended usage and age. Most of them had arms, but a few were armless and sat against the walls to be used to fill in as necessary for larger groups. The original wood floor, gouged from the many years of use, creaked as customers walked to their tables. The ceiling fans ran continuously and the only sound coming from them was the squeaking sound coming from the pulleys and the whir of the leather belts that turned them. The power came from one electric motor mounted on the ceiling in a back room. From that one motor, a long leather belt ran on pulleys to each fan.

Isaac’s face, hands and arms were badly scarred. He was not grotesque looking, but disfigured enough to show he had been involved in some sort of serious accident. He walked with a bad limp and needed the aid of a cane to get around. He was sixty-seven years old, but looked much older. His friends at the table had heard this story of how he was injured many times before. They listened politely each time because there was usually nothing more interesting to talk about and it was still a fascinating story.

Continuing to have everyone’s attention, Isaac Pritchard started in on his story again pointing with his finger.

Back in 1857 I was a young whipper snapper, just arriving back in San Francisco from a prospecting trip over to the east side of the Sierra’s. I think I was only about twenty years old at the time. Me and Seth… he was my partner back then, worked the mines in Bodie all summer and didn’t have a dime to show for it.

He paused, remembering those days.

But, on our way back to San Francisco that fall, we made a great discovery. But that’s another story that will make you jump right out of your seats.

Isaac paused for effect. He smiled broadly before continuing. Anyway, the trip across the Sierra’s was the most difficult thing I have ever done. There were many times I thought we wouldn’t make it. I don’t know how, but somehow Seth and I managed to get home to San Francisco. After we got back here, I lost track of Seth, and to this day, I still don’t know what happened to him.

Most of Isaac’s friends at the table were in their sixties or seventies and had heard these stories many times. However, one man by the name of Josef Bowen, was only twenty-four, but showed up each day to listen to the stories of early San Francisco that the men told. He worked close to the cafe and usually came in later in the day, before supper. He and his wife, Sadie lived in one of the apartments above the cafe.

Josef Bowen looked at Isaac and among the confusion of everyone talking, tapped his arm and asked him softly. What did you mean when you said, ‘we made a great discovery’ when you were on your way back to San Francisco?

Isaac, looked at the young man, tipped his rickety wood chair back onto its two back legs and spoke directly to him. Well young man, I’ve never told anyone about that before.

His friends at the table looked at each other thinking they were about to hear another one of his famous tall tales. Isaac Pritchard waited until he had everyone’s full attention before continuing, even though he directed his story at the young man.

Any proof of what I am about to tell you was lost in that fire back in 1857. I say proof… because even I have a hard time believing what me and Seth found that day.

He went on to tell them the story of finding the gold nuggets sticking out of the cement-like ledge. The men at the table were chuckling and rolling their eyes, but Josef Bowen was very interested in the story and asked many questions. Isaac loved the attention and was more than happy to give him all the details that he could remember.

He and Seth had made this discovery forty-six years earlier and Isaac hadn’t talked to anyone about it in all that time. He tried to explain to Josef where the entrance to the canyon was, where they had first started up into the Sierra’s. Josef took a small piece of paper out of his coat pocket and started drawing a map, which replicated Isaac’s verbal description of the location.

Isaac could tell that Josef had a keen interest in his story. He watched in amusement at the young man’s enthusiasm as he related more details, tapping him on the knee as he continued.

When I said that the only proof was lost in the fire, I meant it. I had a pouch hidden in my room that contained three of the gold nuggets that I brought back from the gold covered ledge. If you could have seen them, you would know I am telling the truth. Believe me, there are no other gold nuggets like these. I guess the fire must have melted and scattered them into the ashes of the old wooden building.

After Isaac had finished telling all he could remember, it had become very late and everyone eventually went their separate ways.

Remarkably, Josef Bowen actually believed old man Isaac Pritchard’s story and this time didn’t think it was one of his usual yarns. He knew the others believed it was just another one of Isaac’s tall tales, but that was okay. Josef was excited about what he had heard and he couldn’t wait to get back to his room to tell his wife, Sadie.

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There have always been many legends throughout the western United States regarding hidden and lost riches of gold. Several of those stories abound in the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains of California. However, the legend of The Lost Cement Mine caught the attention of hundreds of fortune seekers throughout the years.

The story is told that two prospectors back in 1857 had been working the gold fields around the booming gold mining town of Bodie, California. These two prospectors, Isaac Pritchard and his partner Seth, had worked the mines in Bodie all summer and were about to head back home to San Francisco. After working in the very extreme conditions of Bodie, they were exhausted and disappointed, as usual, due to their dismal success.

Weather, disease and crime all were factors in making the town a hostile environment. Hot summers and bitter cold winters caused some of the workers to live in the mine tunnels rather than face the weather outside. Firewood was scarce and had to be hauled in from far away on wagon trains. Few could afford very much of it at a time and used their wood stoves sparingly. Getting shot for stealing firewood was not an unusual occurrence in this gun-slinging town. In addition, the unsanitary conditions caused uncontrollable outbreaks of influenza, dysentery, smallpox, consumption and more. With little in the way of medical care, hundreds of people could die from any of these illnesses in a very short time. Arguments over mining claims, women, gambling or practically anything, could easily result in a gunfight. In a wild-west town like this, death was always lurking just around the corner.

A heavy rain had been falling for several days. As the two miners, Seth and Isaac, got ready to head out of town, they gathered what provisions they could afford and tried to find some last minute work in the mines. The streets were soaked with mud and deeply rutted by horse hooves and heavy wagon wheels. When the two miners stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street, their boots sank into the mire. Seth cursed as he slipped and fell into the gooey mess of mud and horse dung. He knew there was no way he could afford to get his filthy, smelly clothes washed and he didn’t have the money for a warm bath either. He would have to let the clothes dry and then brush off the dried up mud and gook the best that he could. Seth and Isaac would both be watching for a lake or stream where they could clean up, even though they suspected the water would be very cold this time of year.

After a hard days work it had become the custom for Seth and Isaac to be drawn to the nightlife of the many saloons and gambling establishments in town. At that time, the town of Bodie had a population topping over ten thousand. There were about two thousand rugged buildings and probably as many tents. A good portion of the population was made up of mine workers and laborers. Most of these working class people could not afford the luxury of a house, and just pitched a small tent anywhere they could.

Using their day’s wages or selling what little bit of gold they might have found, Isaac and Seth were eager to spend it on some fun. With a get rich quick mentality, Isaac almost immediately used up all his money on whiskey and a couple of games of Faro. The most popular games played in the wild-west mining towns at that time were Faro and Roulette. Unfortunately, many fortunes were quickly lost while playing these games of chance. Seth spent the last of his money on a shot of watered down whiskey and the company of a lady of the evening. Gamblers, prostitutes and gun slinging swindlers were always ready and more than able to take the earnings from the hard working miners and laborers.

The next morning they climbed out of the tent, which they had pitched just outside of town. It had finally stopped raining and there was a slight breeze blowing in their direction. Seth could smell the smoke from the hundreds of stovepipes scattered throughout the area. He tapped Isaac on the arm, pointing towards town. I envy the people living in those houses. This rainy weather really makes me wish I had a roof over my head and a wood stove to keep me warm.

The smoke smelled good in comparison to the staunch odor of horse manure and out houses, which they had both become accustomed to. Seth and Isaac grabbed some breakfast, packed up what they could carry and headed out of town.

After an arduous and long walk from Bodie to the beginning of the Sierra’s, they followed a deep canyon heading up into the first range of mountains. The further that they traveled, the thicker the underbrush became.

Seth stopped and spoke through deep breaths. Isaac, let’s head straight up the side of the canyon to that more barren area I see up there. Hopefully we can stay on the rocky areas until we get above the tree line. He was pleased with his decision to climb to the top of the canyon. The undergrowth was not too thick in that area due to the many rock formations.

Isaac climbed to the top of one of the outcroppings and gazed into the distance. I can see the hills way over there where we started out. I can’t actually see Bodie, but I can tell where it probably is.

The area was at least forty miles away and he could plainly see the great distance they had already walked. But this had been the easy leg of the journey, the most difficult part still laid ahead.

Continuing up the mountain, they stopped to make camp. As they started to dig in and get their things set up, simply by sheer luck, they stumbled onto a large outcropping of reddish cement-like rock. Upon looking closer they could see that it was richly bejeweled with coarse nuggets of pure gold.

Seth pulled out the first nugget from the powdery, red sand to take a closer look. Smiling broadly and acting like a kid holding a forbidden piece of candy, he spoke somewhat hysterically. Isaac. Isaac… I’d guess this nugget weighs about three ounces. It almost looks like a bubble made of solid gold. It’s not like any nuggets we have ever found in streams before. It’s quite heavy for its size so I’m sure it’s really gold.

By now, Isaac had pulled another nugget out of the ledge and was holding it in his hand. He held the nugget to his mouth and bit down on it with his front teeth. Facing Seth and smiling just as broadly, he spoke an octave higher with excitement. It is soft like gold should be, so I’d say it’s the real thing all right.

Most of the outcroppings they had seen so far were granite. The granite was smooth and even a little slippery from being polished by ice age glaciers. But this particular rocky area was very different from the others and looked to be volcanic. It was jagged in some places and powdery in others.

Seth, I don’t know much about geology, but the little I do know is that in California gold is usually pushed up to the surface in quartz veins. The quartz veins begin deep down in the earth and are brought to the surface by volcanic activity. You seldom find gold in actual volcanic rock like this formation. Seth looked over at Isaac and started to laugh.

Spontaneously, they both jumped up and down and yelled out in joy at the sight of their unbelievable discovery.

Seth went to his pack and brought out a small flask of whiskey that he had brought