No Greater Treasure

  AMY LILLARD

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously.

  © 2019 by Amy Lillard

  All rights reserved

  First Edition July 17, 2019

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Amy’s Other Books

  About Amy

  Sneak Peek at Book 2

  Gold Digger Collection Titles

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I love history, and I love writing historical romance. In fact, the first romance I ever wrote was a pirate tale of the 1800s. But as much as I love it, history has no place for political correctness. Sorry, but that’s simply the truth. And so I felt it necessary in this PC world to give a little warning.

  This novella takes place as the California Gold Rush was coming to close. But this is also the middle of what will be known as the Yellow Peril. Hundreds of Chinese came to America and helped settle what we now call California. At the time, they weren’t exactly the most accepted immigrants. They were strange, to the Spanish/Mexicans and Anglos alike. The Chinese had a completely different culture, prayed to different gods, wrote in a language like none had ever seen, more like art than an alphabet. Everything about them was odd. What is different, we fear, and what we fear, we tend to persecute.

  The Chinese people suffered greatly at the hands of the Anglos and Mexicans. Many of these immigrants went to work building the transcontinental railroad. It is estimated that over six hundred Asians died in the building of the railroads. The companies didn’t care enough for its workers at the time to account for any of deaths—Asian or otherwise—so these numbers could be much higher.

  As a whole, the Chinese people who migrated to America in the 19th century were treated as less than the Negro slaves and African freemen alike. At least to some the slaves had a chattel value. (Please no hate mail, this is simply history, like it or not).

  So I hope you won’t be offended when you read No Greater Treasure. I touch upon the injustices and prejudices that the Asian people suffered, but there was no political correctness in 1850. Asian was not a term in use. These immigrants were referred to as Chinamen, Orientals, and Celestials (after the Celestial Dynasty.) Please don’t hold such words and phrases against the main characters. They are simply acting within their time and culture.

  And just a note to anyone who knows their western history, I played a little fast and loose with the discovery of silver in the Utah Territory (in what is now Nevada) and I hope you’ll forgive me. When you get to that part of the story, I think you’ll understand why.

  Thanks for reading—

  Amy

  Collection

  No Greater Treasure

  by Amy Lillard

  The Trouble with Nancy

  by Chautona Having

  Heart of Gold

  by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Jewel’s Gold

  by Caryl McAdoo

  For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

  Matthew 6:21

  California, 1855

  Birdie Banks set the tin cup of coffee she was holding on the ground near her feet and told herself to remain calm. Getting upset would not solve anything. Not even maybe.

  “Lin Sing,” she started in her sweetest voice. “Can I speak to you privately?” She cleared her throat and shot her father’s Chinese manservant a look that clearly conveyed that she would not accept no as his answer. Well, she hoped it did. Lin Sing might have been in America for the last five years. He might speak fair to middlin’ English and he might be able to get around on his own, but some of the subtleties of the American culture were lost on him. She stood and nodded to the man Lin Sing had dragged back to their campsite. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr...”

  The visitor half-stood from his place on the wooden crate. She wished he had remained seated. His sheer size was enough to make a sensible woman take care. And Birdie was nothing if not a sensible woman. “Evans,” he said. “Jedidiah Evans.”

  Birdie released a heavy breath and hoped he didn’t notice her agitation. Allowing a stranger to see something like that—a vulnerability—out here in the middle of gold country could be a fatal mistake. There were plenty of good men in California trying to find their own fortune and willing to conduct themselves as they would have had they been in the middle of an East coast, civilized city. And then there were those who...didn’t.

  “Mr. Evans—”

  “Call me Jed.”

  That was not happening. He wouldn’t be around long enough for her to call him anything. “Give us a moment please.” She tugged on Lin Sing’s sleeve.

  Finally the Chinaman stood. He nodded to Mr. Evans and allowed Birdie to lead him away, around the side of their rickety cabin where the man couldn’t hear them.

  Birdie was careful as she walked; she didn’t want to let her limp show. There were times when her gait was worse than others, like in the winter and when it rained, and thankfully this was one of her good days. But she didn’t want Mr. Evans to see it and think it a weakness. She didn’t want him to come back to their site late at night and try to take advantage, a crippled girl and a Chinaman and more gold than most would ever see in three lifetimes. She couldn’t be too cautious.

  Once out of sight and earshot, she whirled on Lin Sing. “What are you doing?”

  The Chinaman nodded. “I find someone. You say go find someone to get us back in town. I find someone, yes?”

  “Well, yes,” Birdie stammered. “But not him.”

  “Yes. Him. He will protect. You need protect. He good.”

  “No. He not good.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, opening them again to see Lin Sing staring at her, a perplexed look pulling at the corners of his mouth. “He is good,” she amended. “But he’s—” Big, scary, handsome. Potentially dangerous. Couldn’t she say that last one about the trip itself?

  She and her father had been up in the mountains for five years now. Lin Sing had joined them shortly after they had arrived. Her father had never been one to see a man’s color as what made him a man, and Lin Sing had quickly become part of the team. He pretended to be a manservant to keep appearances as normal, but he was more like family. Especially now that her father...

  “Lin Sing,” she started over. “I don’t like him.”

  Lin Sing smiled, squinting his eyes until they were mere slits and showing the majority of his big, crooked teeth. “You do not have to like, Bird. Only get back in town. This man do that.”

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t argue with his logic. “Surely there’s someone else. We just need someone to keep second watch.” Whoever they got didn’t need to be so...large and unnerving.

  Lin Sing shook his head, his long, braided queue swinging back and forth behind him. Lin Sing’s hair, what he had of it, reached nearly to his waist and was longer by far than Birdie’s own golden locks. In line with his culture he shaved his head but grew a patch at the base of his skull. He had told her once the reasons, but there were so many words involved that he didn’t know English for that she never quite understood. She just accepted it and him for what they were.

  She, on the other hand, had cut her hair shortly after arriving in gold country. It was a pain and a liability. Her father had had a fit and she promised to immediately grow it back. Now, after five years it was wel
l past her shoulders. But nowhere near as long as it had been. She wore it back in a leather wrap like the other long-haired miners she had seen.

  In fact, everything about her was miner. She wore a hat good for panning, a man’s shirt she had altered to fit her and a pair of men’s boots and trousers. Like everyone else in the mountains, she only washed when she was dirty, a habit that was beginning to wear on her. That and the fact that she had to keep her face smeared with mud. She didn’t want to appear attractive. There were not enough women in these mountains. Most who saw her passed her by thinking she was a young boy. Binding her breasts helped in that matter, another habit that she was ready to give up.

  “He’s all we got,” she muttered. It was half question, half resigned statement.

  Lin Sing nodded and bowed at the same time.

  “And I have no choice.”

  “No, no. You have choice. Go back in town with him or stay here. No one wants to leave mountains. Not without gold.”

  And staying wasn’t an option. “Nelson is expecting me.”

  “Yes.”

  “We could—”

  “No, Bird. We need him. He goes or I not.”

  “Fine.” She did her best to take all of the frustration out of her voice, but some managed to creep in despite her efforts. Lin Sing didn’t seem to notice.

  He bowed again. “I go tell.”

  Before she could say another word, he scuttled off in those short, quick steps he took, leaving her alone to wonder if she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  She supposed there was only one way of finding out and that was to give this hairbrained idea a chance. Birdie took a moment to collect herself. The men probably wondered what was keeping her. Well, let them wonder. She needed a minute. Out of all the men in all the camps, this Jed person was the only one Lin Sing could find to escort them back to Sacramento? She wanted to disbelieve that fact with every fiber of her being, but the truth was, five years in a mining camp and she knew the caliber of the miners. Some were good people, held church on Sundays, and prayed over their meals and some were...not. Unfortunately, it seemed to be the majority of them were those a little south of godly. Just another reason why she and Lin Sing had given this Evans person a false name. Cora Mae Hawkins.

  She had toyed with the idea of allowing him to believe that she was a boy, but quickly caved. She wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade for long. A false name and men’s clothes would have to do.

  He might not know who she was, but men like Jed Evans...they unnerved her. He seemed like a believing man. She would have to ask to be certain. It was just that he was big, powerful, the kind of man who could protect. But also the kind who could inflict pain and hurt. She had been around men like that ever since coming to California, and she avoided them at all costs. She had too much at stake, could be overpowered so easily, and everything she held dear stripped from her. She knew. She had been faced with it too many times to count. Just another reason why she carried a derringer in her reticule.

  She hated the gun, almost as much as she hated the fact she was going to have to put her life in the hands of Jed Evans. The gun seemed to be a doubt. That she didn’t trust God fully to protect her. Her father would say that God had provided by giving Mr. Derringer the idea to build a small handgun that a woman could easily conceal, carry, and fire. But she felt as if she was giving up valued trust. She carried it, but she had never fired it. Not even once.

  Lord, please help me to know that I am making the right decision. Help me accept what we are about to do and protect me from all things that would come against me. Even if that thing is Jed Evans. Amen

  And that was another matter. Men like Jed Evans had her praying for her own safety when she should be thanking God for all her blessings. And she had many.

  Aside from being one of the wealthiest—if not the wealthiest—woman in California, she was about to marry the sweetest, most kind and loving man, Nelson O’Neil. Nelson was waiting for her in Sacramento. And once she deposed of her claim, they would be married and run his very successful general store. After five years in the mountains, she was very much looking forward to being a shopkeeper’s wife. To wearing ribbons in her hair, taking a nice hot bath, and completely enjoying every amenity that civilization had to offer.

  The only way she could do any of that was by trusting Jedidiah Evans, regardless that he made her feel as vulnerable as a newborn kitten.

  Lin Sing peeked his head around the side of the shack, his smile big and reassuring. Not that it worked, but she appreciated the effort. “Bird, you come.”

  “Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I come.”

  Jed removed his hat and stood from his seat on the creaky wooden crate as the woman came around the side of the tent. Cora Mae Hawkins.

  What kind of woman came up to the mountain where a bunch of no-good miners were gathered? A prostitute. That’s what kind. Not that he was judging or anything. That was for the good Lord to do.

  He returned to his seat as she took the crate opposite him, the same place where she had been sitting before she had called the Chinaman aside to talk. He wasn’t sure what they were discussing, but he could guess. The Chinaman had hired him, and she wasn’t happy about it. Lin Sing, he thought the man’s name was, had come into Jed’s camp looking for someone to escort him and another party into Sacramento. Jed was already going; this would just pay him for the trip he was already making. Easy money. Definitely easier than trying to dig gold from the ground.

  “What are you doing in California, Mr. Evans?”

  “Jed,” he gently corrected. He smiled. She did not return the gesture. Tough lady. Prostitute, he corrected himself. And she was the most interesting one that he had ever seen—not that he had seen a lot of them. She wore men’s britches, no doubt taken up so they fit properly. He was certain she would attract more...uh, customers if she wore a dress, but life in the mountains was hard.

  And it wouldn’t hurt if she washed her face. The Chinaman had told him Cora Mae had been in the mountains for the last five years. If he had to guess, he would say she might have washed her face three or four times. Maybe.

  She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. For some reason she seemed to have a problem with him, though he couldn’t imagine why. He had never met Cora Mae Hawkins in his life.

  “Like everyone else I came here to find gold.” And like most he was walking away with nothing. Not even enough for passage back to Texas. He would have to find a job in Sacramento and hope that it would yield him enough to make his way home.

  Home. Texas. Like there was anything to go home to.

  “And did you?” she asked. “Find gold.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She shared a look with the little Chinaman, but Jed wasn’t sure what it meant. Might even be nothing, but he was certain the relations between the two were odd. She spoke to him as if he were her equal. Not many in America treated the Orientals with respect, putting them sometimes below the Negros in the race hierarchy. But she didn’t. And the difference intrigued him. Who was this Cora Mae Hawkins, and what was she doing in California?

  “My father,” she started, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  Father? That was really strange. Did he know what she did for a living? Surely. Did he approve? “Where is he?”

  She pointed to a spot a little ways away, where a wooden cross marked a fresh mound of overturned earth.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. What an interesting set up. He didn’t know any prostitutes who dragged their fathers into the business. Or maybe it was the other way around. Not that he was judging or anything.

  “Yes, well...thank you,” she said. “Now it’s time to get off this mountain. And I need a...guide.”

  “I can help with that.”

  Her lips turned up at the corners, but he wouldn’t call the gesture a smile. “I’m counting on it.”

  “If we’re really lucky, we might make it to Sacramento in three da
ys. But since you will be riding...Hopefully it won’t take more than five.” Mr. Evans tightened the strap holding the saddlebags onto the back of the donkey.

  “I—” Birdie started, but he cut in.

  “Have an injury, I know. I wasn’t making accusations, merely stating a truth.”

  When he said the words she felt about three inches tall. Like a petulant child. She hadn’t meant to be so defensive when it came to her injury, but in California gold country being a woman was enough of a disadvantage, add in a physical handicap and she felt like a target. Or maybe the gold was making her paranoid.

  “One mule for you and the donkey loaded down with what you are taking back.”

  She nodded. “We’re only taking what’s absolutely necessary.”

  He looked at the large saddle bags strapped to the back of the donkey.

  Birdie would not justify them. She would not explain how they were leaving so much behind and yet seemed to be taking so much back from the mountain. Let him figure it out. He seemed smart enough, so he might come up with the right answer, but there was no need for her to tell him. If she let him know exactly how much gold they were taking home, he might change his mind about escorting her. And that was something she couldn’t chance. As much as she hated it, she needed him.

  “Are you ready to leave, Miss Hawkins?”

  Birdie whirled around. “Now?”

  He looked up at the sky as if checking the sun. It was already half past ten. Then he leveled his gaze back on her. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

  “I’m still getting my things packed.” Her clothes, what she was taking of them, and other personal items were stored away nicely in a roll behind the saddle she would be using. But the gold...she had yet to secure it in a way that was satisfying to her. And she surely couldn’t do that with Jed Evans looking over her shoulder.

  “I’ll help you.”

  She grabbed the donkey’s reins and urged him away from the man. It was purely instinctive. “No.” Her voice was a little shrill, more than she had intended, and she cleared her throat. “No,” she said again. “I can take care of it. Just give me a little more time.”