Light on Golden Mountain

By Roseanne Jelacic

Two fifth-graders growing up in post-Civil War California, Mandy McGandy and Jebediah Wu form an unlikely friendship that teaches them about bravery, justice, and the freedom of adventure.

Jeb’s life in exotic Chinatown and Mandy’s on opulent Nob Hill could not be more different. Brought together by the construction of the tran

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Feb 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781948556781

Roseanne Jelacic

Roseanne Jelacic lives in Denver, Colorado, with her dachshund, Ziggy. This is her first book.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tossed and yanked by the wind, Mandy’s red-gold curls tangled themselves into knotted ropes that slapped hard against her freckled cheeks. Forcing them into a giant knot, she twisted and tied until they sat lopsided near the crown of her head. One particularly feisty curl pulled free and caught the corner of her open mouth.

Pathuwee! Pa-thu-wee! Spitting it away, she wrapped it tight around her ear.

That’s San Francisco Bay, said Mandy, turning to her little brother. Drew pointed a tiny finger at his big sister, who guided his hand until he pointed directly down at the bay. Look, Drew. Just beyond the grassy hills in front of us. Can you see it?

Squinting in chilly sunlight, the pair continued along the pathway that led to their house. I can’t see it, said Drew. Teary little streaks flowed from the edges of his eyes. Too much lights! Too much dirt blowed.

"Even if you can’t see it, can you say it? Say it, Drew. San-fran-cis-co-bay." Mandy gripped her brother under both of his arms and lifted him up.

Oh, me see the boats! Drew gasped. The big ships!

His eyes shut tight as his sister set him down, Drew struggled against the wind to unbutton his coat and, freeing the last button, opened it wide. Huffing and puffing, the wind shoved him backward. He stumbled, landing squarely on his backside. It cold out here! he said.

Mandy grabbed his suspenders. How many times have I told you not to ride the wind? she said, pulling him to his feet. If Mom sees you doing that, we’ll both be in big trouble.

You teached me to ride the wind! shouted Drew. You do it. I see you!

Sh-u-u-ush! Mandy whispered with a loud growl.

Winning the race home, Drew zipped through the front gate, zoomed to the porch and then—needing both hands and both feet to climb the steps—he slowed a little. Regaining his stride, he hopped onto the porch and ran to the big front door. Mama, Mama! shouted Drew, slapping the door open with the palms of his hands. Racing inside, he pushed back on the door with all his tiny might. Me close door, Mom, said Drew, moving it just a little.

May I help you close the door? his mother asked. In this wind, it might be difficult for you to close it all by yourself.

Jumping onto his rocking horse, Drew rode hard. Sure, Mom, he said. I ride my Dappo Grey now.

With a nod to her son, Mrs. McGandy stepped outside, gripped her woolen shawl, and pulled it snug across her shoulders. Through brownish-green eyes, she watched her firstborn mount the steps. I hope you weren’t teasing your little brother, said Mrs. McGandy. You weren’t making fun of his baby talk, were you, Mandy?

No, Mama! I was correcting his speech. Just the way you do. But when I correct him, he gets mad and runs off.

"Always remember, Mandy, you were almost eight when Drew was born. He is your little brother," she said, her elegant French braid unraveling in the unrelenting wind.

Turning her eyes sharply away from her mother, Mandy focused on dust devils that flared up like frayed ribbons from the driveway’s rutted surface. Oh, said Mrs. McGandy, giving her daughter a hug. You will always be my sweet and pretty babe. I love you, your blondy red hair, and softy green eyes, she said, planting a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head.

Mom! said Mandy, her cheeks flushing orangy red. You say that every time I tie up my hair in a ponytail knot! Nobody says ‘blondy’ and ‘softy.’ You make up words.

But don’t you see, my darling girl? You are special, and because you are special, ordinary words just don’t work.

Shivering under her shawl as her daughter plopped down on the porch swing, Mrs. McGandy went back into the house. Bounding off on the next down swing, Mandy sprinted to the far end of the wraparound porch. Lowering her elbows to the railing, she turned her face to the wind. Could that be the middle of nowhere? she said, her hair flailing like a flame. In them faraway hills where Pops goes and stays for weeks on end? Chin in her hands, she studied the distant mountains and then turned suddenly, staring at the window directly behind her. Phew! she said, seeing no one there. I don’t know what would bother Mama more—me talking to myself or talking to myself using improper English!

Mandy’s eyes moved to a stack of thin grooves cut into the porch column beside her and marking the topmost line with her finger, she lined herself up beside the measuring marks. Oh, no! she gasped, her finger sitting even with her eyes. I’ll be tall as Papa! I’ve got to stop growing! Slouching low and then lower, she tugged at the hem of her pinafore until it touched—just barely—the middle of her calves. That’s better. Still holding the hem, she hobbled back to the swing. Well, she said, sliding aboard, "when I’m sitting down, I’m not really all that tall."

Chapter 2

Whoa, whoa, Mr. McGandy cooed to his horse. We’re home, Lewis John! And it’s about time. Wouldn’t you agree? Lewis John replied with a snort followed by two whinnies. Head held high atop his strong and graceful neck, the horse slowed to a trot as he carried his passenger up the two-runnel track to the carriage house.

Papa! Papa! Mandy zipped down three flights of stairs and flew out the front door—dancing, leaping, and running as she raced to greet her father.

My spinning girl! Have you learned to dance the jig while I’ve been away this time? An infinite grin on his face, Frank McGandy dismounted. Pressing his fisted hands against the sides of his waist, he stood stiff as a Highland dancer awaiting the pipes and then bowed low to his daughter. Flaring her skirt daintily to one side, Mandy returned the bow with a curtsy.

Most excellent pose, Miss Mandy! said her father, wrapping his daughter in his arms. It is so good to see you.

Mandy planted a fat kiss on her father’s cheek. I’ve missed you so much, Pops! she said.

My goodness, you’ve grown in the two months I’ve been away!

I am most certain that I have not grown at all, said Mandy, staring down at the brass buttons on her boot.

Where’s the touring rig? he asked, opening the carriage house doors.

Mom and Emeline took it. They went calling on Mrs. Donlevy to see her new baby. Drew went along, but I begged Mom not to make me go. I just had a feeling you might come home early! With a loud snort, Lewis John nudged Mandy. Hello, Lewis John! she said, her cheek pressed to the side of his neck. I missed you too. Did you and Pops have a nice trip?

In her letters, said Mr. McGandy, your mother tells me she is doing very well—that she feels stronger and stronger every day. What do you say, Mandy? Does your mother’s fever ever come back?

"Well, Papa, Emeline and I