“My job was to talk to the guards,” I say. “Keep them from walking around the back of the building or paying too much attention to any odd noises.” I helped in another way, too, by giving all that gold a little push, making the bilge hose easier to handle. But I’m not sure I should say so aloud. Melancthon doesn’t need to know all our secrets.
“I thought for sure they were going to catch me when they opened the door,” Jefferson says. “There was just enough time to close the safe door and crouch behind it. If it hadn’t been cloudy and dark, he might have noticed the hole in the roof.” He looks at me. “You did a great job distracting them.”
I shrug. “Those fellows weren’t too bad.”
“Once the safe was empty,” Jefferson continues. “I climbed back up to the roof, holding one end of the hose. I pulled it over the edge and loaded it onto the wagon. Then I replaced the roof tiles, and it was like I’d never been there.”
Mary is all grins. “The next day, I paid Hardwick’s Chinese workers—the ones who moved all his safes—to pretend that one safe was just as heavy as the others, even though it was empty.”
“He never suspected a thing,” Tom says. “I never suspected a thing.”
“So, back to Jim,” I say. “Once he was shot, Mary recognized an opportunity. A way to hide all the gold we planned to steal.”
Jasper says, “So that’s why she told me to keep Jim hidden.”
“She made all the arrangements,” Henry adds. “She organized everything.”
“I came to San Francisco alone,” Mary says. “So I didn’t think Hardwick would realize I was part of the group. I had to keep out of sight around the Charlotte, though, sneaking in and out through the hold. I was afraid Frank Dilley would recognize me from Hiram’s Gulch.”
“It worked out,” I say. “Mary was able to get things done without Hardwick ever catching wind.”
Becky stares at Mary. “I thought . . . I thought you were avoiding me.”
Mary stares back, not answering.
“So that’s why we’re digging,” Jasper says, attacking the hole with renewed enthusiasm.
“Because you did bury something here,” Hampton agrees. “But it’s not Jim.”
A sharp crack sounds. Hampton and Jasper use their shovels to scrape dirt away, revealing a muddy wooden casket.
“Go ahead, Hampton,” I say. “You do the honors.”
He shoves the tip of his shovel beneath the lid and levers it off.
We all crowd around and peer down into the hole. About four thousand coins sit piled inside the casket, all fifty-dollar pieces. There’s a moment of silence, as if someone has died and we’re all showing respect. It’s not inappropriate, I think. People probably did die to collect this gold. The Indians who had their land stolen. The forty-niners who died on the wagon trail west. The miners who worked themselves sick. The people Hardwick kicked out of their homes to live in the cold, wet San Francisco streets.
Jim gives a low, appreciative whistle.
“Hampton, I’m so sorry we lied to you,” I say. “It was meant to protect Jim from any further reprisals, and we weren’t sure how to get the real information to you.”
“I have to admit,” Hampton says, “after getting my freedom papers, then having my freedom taken away again . . . more bad news was awful hard to take in.” He takes a good long gander at all that gold. “But it also gave you a casket and a reason to bury it,” he adds graciously.
Becky says, “It comes to about three hundred and thirty coins per portion. We’d better get them counted out quick.”
“Already on it,” Jefferson says. He climbs back into the hole with a dozen bags, and he and Hampton start counting out the coins.
“So what happened at the party last night?” Jasper asks. “You know, the one I missed so Mary could go in my place?” He says it with mock effrontery, as if he was the type of fellow to actually care about a party.
“All I know is that I was supposed to debauch Ichabod yesterday,” Tom says. “If anyone was going to sense something amiss, it was going to be him. I was successful, and I hesitate to share all the details, although I confess that we opened the first bottle of wine before lunch. He’s a decent enough fellow. I was glad to hear he escaped the sinking of the Argos.”
“At the party, we had to get inside one of the safes and frame Frank Dilley,” I say. “But I don’t know this part. The Major took care of that.” I turn to him. “Please tell me how you did it!”
“We needed to use those copied keys again,” the Major says. “So many people are abandoning steady employment and running for the golden hills that the caterers were understaffed. They were thrilled when Mary and I volunteered to help out.”
“It took a long time for us to figure out which room was Frank’s,” Mary says.
“Almost too long,” the Major says. “By the way, this crutch is noisy as all get-out. I stepped on rugs whenever possible, but I don’t mind saying that getting in and out of Frank’s room is one of the most hair-raising things I’ve ever done.”
Becky pats his arm. “You’re a brave man.”
“So we found the safes first. We opened one and put Lee’s little bundle inside, then I marked it with a bit of chalk so the dockhands would know which one to put in the center of the hold.”
“Huh?” says Melancthon. “‘Little bundle?’”
“Just a keepsake,” I hurry to say. “A locket I carried west with me. It belonged to my mother. I wanted to give it a ceremonial burial at sea, in her honor.”
Henry gives me an admiring look, and Mary coughs to cover a laugh.
“Then we found Frank’s room,” the Major continues, “and we left the key there, along with some other incriminating evidence.”
“Where did you hide the duplicate key?” Tom asks. “Everyone at the party was searched closely, and staff was searched twice.”
The Major hands the baby to Becky and sits down on the edge of the wagon. He pops open a small door on his wooden leg to reveal a secret compartment within. “I carried it here, along with everything else. They searched my pockets, and the seams of my clothes, but they didn’t even want to touch my wooden leg.”
“You’re so clever,” Becky says.
“I manage.”
Jefferson and Hampton finish dividing the last of the coins. They stack the bags beside the grave and climb out of the hole. Jeff offers the first bag to Hampton. “For all your trouble,” he says.
“I’ve had a lot more trouble than this in my life,” Hampton says. “But I’ll take some of that gold, I’m not ashamed to say.”
Jefferson hands the second bag to Tom.
“As an officer of the court, who may have to testify under oath at some point in the future, I cannot in good conscience accept stolen property.” Jefferson starts to withdraw the bag, but Tom grabs it. “I can, however, with a clear heart, give it to someone who should never have been treated as property in the first place, as a first step toward making things right. So I shall hold it in trust for Adelaide.”
Hampton beams. “Any word of her while I was gone?” he says.
Tom’s smile is sympathetic. “You know it’s too early, Hampton. It takes months for these things to happen.”
“Well, this ought to help me open that general store,” Jim says, taking his bag.