The Quicksilver Kid: A Gold Rush Adventure

By Steve Hailes

This is a fine novel. I really enjoyed reading it.

--Kitty Monahan, Director New Almaden Quicksilver Museum

This is a great story.

--Larry Comstock, San Jose author of Henry Halleck and the Almaden Quicksilver Mines.

The Quicksilver Kid is available on unabridged audio tape by Books in Motion of Spokane, Washington (800-752-3199).

Other California novels by Mr. Hailes are as follows:

California Guns #1: Gila Bend Showdown - starts in Texas in the late 1840s and tells the story of a manhunt on the way to California, ending at a showdown at Gila Bend.

California Guns #2: Monterey Deathsong - the story of an ex-Texas Ranger preventing trouble at Californias first constitutional convention in 1849 in Monterey.

California Guns #3: Trouble in Mariposa - the story of corruption and greed in the gold fields of California.

California Guns #4: Santa Lucia Secrets - there was Spanish treasure and other secrets in the hills, wealth worth more than gold.

California Guns #5: West of Yuma - the trail between Yuma on the Colorado River and San Diego was filled with danger and a man seeking revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 27, 2000
• ISBN: 9781453582640

Steve Hailes

Mr. Hailes began writing in a high school Plane Geometry class where he wrote his first science fiction novel. His writing took a back seat for the next twenty years as he got married, graduated in English from the University of Utah, worked on a Master’s degree in Comparative Literature, became a salesman and then sales manager for Highlights for Children, managed a twenty-story medical building in Minneapolis, and finally came to California as a technical writer. Mr. Hailes lives south of Silicon Valley in San Jose, California about five miles from the historic Quicksilver County Park, the site of a gun battle in his western adventure novel, The Quicksilver Kid. For the last fourteen years, he has been writing technical manuals and training materials for companies such as IBM, Claris, Hewlett-Packard, and 3Com. He has written books with titles like TokenLink III 16-bit Micro Channel Adapter Guide, LANALert Network Management System User’s Manual, and Integrated Circuit Measurement System (IC-MS) User’s Manual. He also writes Windows Help Systems. These works, along with their hardware and software, have been purchased by millions of people.

Book preview

The

Quicksilver

Kid

Steve Hailes

Copyright © 1999 by Steve Hailes.

Library of Congress Number:     99-91456

ISBN #:

          Hardcover         0-7388-0810-5

          Softcover          0-7388-0811-3

          Ebook               9781453582640

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

Contents

NOTES

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Notes on

Setting and Historical Characters

in The Quicksilver Kid

San Francisco—Before gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill in 1948, San Francisco (or Yerba Buena, as it was then called) was a sleepy little Spanish village of adobe buildings. The Gold Rush brought people, frantic building, and land speculation. In 1852 the population of San Francisco was 34,000. Between 1849 and 1856 there were over one thousand known murders; the regular courts convicted only one of the murderers.

San Jose—This city, 50 miles south of San Francisco, briefly became the state capital of California right after the Gold Rush when California became a state in 1850.

New Almaden—This town, located 65 miles south of San Francisco, was a company mining town for the quicksilver (mercury) mine. This mine produced quicksilver until 1912 when it was closed down. When the Gold Rush began, the mercury produced became valuable to help in the refining of gold. New Almaden broke a Spanish monopoly on mercury and facilitated California’s production of gold. Before it was closed, it produced about 70 million dollars’ worth of mercury. The mine was officially closed from 1857 to 1861 but continued to operate. Today the hills of the mine are the 3600—acre New Almaden Quicksilver County Park. There is also a museum in New Almaden. The Casa Grande has been turned into real estate offices and a restaurant-vaudeville theater.

Alviso—This town was incorporated in 1852. When the railroad came in 1865 and diverted traffic away from it, it became all but a ghost town. It never became the great port that its planners anticipated. It exists today next to Highway 237.

Henry Wager Halleck was the general manager of the New Almaden quicksilver mine. He was also a partner in the law firm of Halleck, Peachy & Billings. Their firm was deeply involved with the land grant problems that later shut down the mine for a while. In 1855 he married Elizabeth, a granddaughter of Alexander Hamilton. In 1861 he was a major general of the 2nd Division of California State Militia. In 1862 he was appointed by Lincoln to be the general in charge of the Union troops.

John Young was Halleck’s superintendent at the New Almaden Quicksilver mine.

United States Marshal Richardson was killed shortly after he appears in this novel over an altercation at the Blue Wind Saloon in San Francisco.

George Hale was San Jose’s city marshal from 1852 through 1855.

A.T. Gallagher was the first marshal of Alviso, California.

Sam Brannan was a San Francisco newspaper man active in San Francisco politics, and he headed several vigilante committees.

Willie Kennard served as marshal of Yankee Hill, Colorado in 1847 after disarming the outlaw, Barney Casewit.

All other characters in this novel are fictitious.

CHAPTER ONE

Death, like a phantom, crossed to the west bank of the Missouri River. It spread its dark cape of cholera across the Mormon camp at Winter Quarters.

Fifteen-year-old Cliff Stone huddled in his family’s wagon, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders in an attempt to keep out the intense cold. On his lap he tenderly held the head of his sick mother, Martha Halleck Stone.

Pa will be back soon, he assured the dying woman who lay still, too weak to shiver. He’s just gone down the river to Council Bluffs to get supplies.

Stone couldn’t hide the worry in his voice. His Pa had been gone almost three days. More than enough time to return with supplies. Pa had done this sort of thing before. He was a good man, a hard worker, some of the time. But Pa’s attention wandered easily. He got distracted by liquor or other excitements found in frontier towns.

Stone was glad Pa had taught him to hunt and shoot by the time he was ten years old. The boy had done most of it for his family since then. Sometimes, no, most of the time, Pa easily forgot about the important things most men do for their families.

*****

Stone pulled the worn blanket more tightly around his broad shoulders and gazed out of the back of the wagon at the lightly falling snow. They had lived on the frontier all of his life. When he was small, he wondered why they were constantly moving. As he grew older, he realized it was because of Pa. It wasn’t so much Pa’s fault, though. It was the American West. There were always men who preyed on others easily taken advantage of and they cheated those weaker than themselves. Someday, somehow, someone would put a stop to that kind of person.

Joining up with the Mormons had most likely saved their lives. They had been low on supplies, one of their oxen had died and the other one was ill. Pa had lost what money they had in a card game.

The Mormons were running from their Missouri enemies, coming from their abandoned city of Nauvoo. Their prophet leader Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum had been killed. Being religious, but infrequent church goers, the Stones were at first hesitant to fall in with a group of what everyone was calling religious fanatics. But it seemed not to matter to the Mormons, who certainly recognized someone in need. They adopted the Stones and assigned resources, sharing what little they had. They found work for Stone’s Pa, Charles. The remaining ox was soon well and Charles Stone had money for supplies.

The Stones soon discovered the falseness of stories portraying the Mormons as heathen rascals. Everyday life began in the Mormon camp as it closed, with a vocal prayer by all for divine favor. No Mormon seemed willing to sleep without that invocation. With the first twinkling of the stars, laughter and loud talking ceased, neighbors returned to their wagons or tents, and the chorus of a hymn spread throughout the camp. Then the thousand-voiced murmur of a prayer drifted softly through the air, like the sound of gentle water falling across stones.

Orrin Porter Rockwell, bodyguard of the fallen prophet and scout for the Mormons, had taken a liking to young Stone. Cliff Stone could ride and shoot as well as any man. He had used rifle or pistol since he was big enough to carry one. Despite Pa’s bad habits, Martha Stone had given her son a legacy of determination and the importance of family. Alone with his knowledge of the tools needed to defend himself, he would survive. In his short friendship with Port Rockwell, the scout taught him skills with guns and men that he had not known. Stone saw in Rockwell the kind of man that could bring order to the wild and sometimes cruel men who seemed to plague his family.

Events had been looking up. The Stone family was on its way West to a brighter future. There were rumors of wealth in the West, in the unknown territory of Mexico called California.

And then cholera struck. Pa had come down with it first and then Cliff. By winter, over six hundred graves filled the cemetery at Winter Quarters.

Martha Stone had nursed her husband and son day and night and they had recovered. Unfortunately, her exhaustion then gave way to her own sickness.

Cliff, son, she said softly. Stone bent his face toward her to better hear what she said.

Take care of your father, if you can, she said weakly. And when you can, find your only other relative, Henry and take care of him if he needs it. Promise me to make wherever you are safer for men like Charles. Men who have… weaknesses.

Henry was Henry Halleck, Martha’s younger brother who had gone away to West Point. Brother and sister had corresponded regularly and she told her family stories often of their experiences when they were young. Stone smiled feebly. He would have to go a piece to take care of a West Point graduate.

It’s okay, Ma, Stone said, trying to reassure her. You can take care of them yourself. As soon as you’re better.

She smiled weakly and pulled a letter from the pocket of her apron.

Take this letter, she said. Find Henry and give it to him. I am sure he has gone west. He will be there somewhere. Find him and give it to him. Promise me.

I promise, Ma, said Stone. He looked at the face of his mother. He had seen death in the camp and been close to it himself. He knew in his heart that his mother would not survive the night.

And your father, Martha Stone said very weakly. Stone put his ear next to his mother’s lips. Tell Charles that I love him.

Martha Halleck Stone died shortly afterwards, in the arms of her son.

*****

The sun rose on the camp the next day and warmth spread to the living, the sick, and the dead. Stone began digging a grave for his mother. Porter Rockwell and several of the Mormon Elders said a short prayer. Rockwell helped Stone make a marker and bury her.

Stone stood staring at the mound of freshly turned earth. Rockwell stood silently at his side.

There was a great void in the pit of Stone’s stomach. Ma was gone forever. Pa was not here, where he should be. He tried to discard the anger he felt toward Pa. He was ashamed of feeling it. But Pa should have been here. He should have somehow helped Ma. She was not dead because of him, but yet…

Cliff, said Rockwell. Now’s not the time, I guess. But Hell, there ain’t no good time.

What? Stone turned sharply toward his friend.

It’s your Pa, said Rockwell.

What now? If he was back in camp, why wasn’t he helping bury his wife?

A rider from Council Bluff saw him pistol whipped and shot by drunken teamsters. They took him for a Pilgrim and took his money and his gear.

Stone was silent. Anger was suddenly pushed aside by despair, by fear. As bad as events turned, there had always been Ma and Pa. He had always believed they would work it through. What was he to do now?

After several minutes of silence Rockwell cleared his throat and spoke again.

What you goin’ to do son?

Stone looked up blankly and blinked. A different kind of anger began to grow inside of him. Someone would pay for this. He could do nothing against the cholera, but his Pa’s fate could be charged in a specific direction. He must follow that direction. He focused on the bearded face of the older man beside him.

You’ve been a good friend, Port, he said evenly, grimly. I’d like to give our wagon to the Mormons and anything in it they can use, including the ox. I’d like to trade it for a horse, a saddle and one of your pistols.

All right, said Rockwell slowly. You need any help?

Stone looked into Rockwell’s eyes steadily and smiled tightly.

You’ve done more than anyone could do. And so have your people. I thank them for that. You take care keeping them alive to that valley out west.

Rockwell nodded.

Say, why don’t you come west with us? Brigham has asked me to go to Salt Lake with the first group. I’m sure he’ll approve of you coming. You’ve always pulled your own weight. What do you say?

Stone smiled. Thanks for that. I promised my Ma I’d head west. But first I’ve got to settle a score for Pa.

Stone saw a look he had seen in Rockwell’s eyes before. The man was not going to give up.

I’ve got a day or two before we leave for the west, said Rockwell. What say we both take a little ride down to Council Bluffs and see what we can dig up.

You folks have helped me enough, said Stone. I’m not asking for any more help.

Help! Rockwell burst into laughter. I ain’t offering help, I’m offering a bargain. Besides, we might find ourselves some gentiles to skin.

Stone never knew when to take Port seriously when he talked about gentiles. Gentile was the Mormon term for non-Mormons.

The bargain is you go with me to Council Bluffs, I go with you out west? Is that it?

I always knew you weren’t lacking in the brains department. We’ll need good men out there, reflected Rockwell, stroking the butt of his pistol. If you know what I mean.

Stone smiled.

Later that day, Cliff Stone and Porter Rockwell rode south, along the trail following the Missouri River toward Council Bluffs. Stone rode a bay gelding supplied by Rockwell. Stuffed in the waistband of his pants was a single-shot percussion pistol, also supplied by Rockwell.

You know, Rockwell said pensively, as they rode, you never can tell when we might need fresh meat. You see any rabbits along the way, we might try to shoot ourselves one or two for the spit.

Almost before Rockwell had spoken Stone’s weapon was miraculously out of his belt and firing into the brush at the side of the road.

What the…

You said you wanted a rabbit, said Stone. He rode off the trail in the direction he had fired and dismounted. Smiling, he picked up the dead rabbit, and held it up for Rockwell to see.

Twice more as the rode that afternoon, Rockwell was surprised by the swiftness and accuracy of the boy riding beside him, as their supply of fresh meat grew. There would have been more, except the old pistol misfired once. Rockwell had given Stone a pistol he did not use. He never thought the boy would put it to such deadly use.

Rockwell considered himself quick, but he could not approach Stone’s speed. Some had a gift. This boy would have to be trained to use his gift well, or it could easily turn to evil.

CHAPTER TWO

One mile out of Council Bluffs, Stone and Rockwell moved off the trail and drew rein as a group of ten mounted men galloped toward them. They were all armed.

Trouble, hissed Rockwell to Stone, as the men came up to them.

Howdy, gents, Rockwell said good-naturedly.

Howdy, strangers, said a large man at the head of the group. We’re huntin’ Mormons. You two seen any?

What you want ‘em for, said Rockwell. Stone saw Rockwell’s jaw tighten as he got set to act.

Does my Pa here look like a Mormon? demanded Stone abruptly, in a loud voice, moving his hand to his pistol.

Rockwell glanced at the boy. The men were looking at Rockwell’s tangled shoulder-length hair, the two pistols he wore and the unkempt beard that spread across his face.

Now this boy of mine, said Rockwell, addressing the group of riders. "He’s a