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and Erskine both leaned back, exhaling with relief. So Cormack must be a desirable suitor! That explained why Quartus came on this distant adventure of forty miles to deliver that message! Cormack nearly leapt to his feet to grab his possible bag and jump on his horse, but he remembered his compañero . “Quartus! Does this mean that Miss Mercy Narrimore is also—”
    “Bowmaker! Bowmaker!” A fellow, name of Bigler, streaked it up the hill, cupping in his hand something very fragile like a tiny fish that he didn’t want to maim. “Look at this, will you? Tell me what you think!” Nearly bowling over the pathetically oiled Quartus, Bigler stepped between the three men, bending down to open his palm and reveal his treasure. Some gold bits gleamed warmly in the sun, floating in the crystal water of the American River. “Gold, right? I just found it in the tailrace when Marshall shut the floodgates.”
    Cormack stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t say for certain that ain’t fool’s gold, pyrite, do you take my meaning? But you might be on to something there. Those little chunks seem to shine more brightly than pyrite.”
    “‘Every one of you, hump it’…” Quartus continued serenading himself. “Gold? I can find gold with my divining rod.”
    Bigler glanced at Quartus and guffawed. “Anyway, Bowmaker, what do you make of this? Should I bring it down to Sutter and have him take a look?”
    “No, no!” cried Erskine. “Remember, Cormack, what Sutter told us about the bandits? Bigler, don’t say a word about this to anyone. There’s got to be a way to find out if it’s really gold before we go spreading the word all about the camps. Bigler, do you think you can find some more without letting anyone know what you’re doing?”
    “Why, sure, Erskine. Me and my boys’ll just—”
    “No! No boys!”
    Cormack asked, “Then how can we find out for sure we’re not just going over a sight of ground for no reason?”
    Quartus cried, “Gold!” and all heads turned to him. “You think that might be gold?” Hugging himself proudly, he trilled, “I know who would know if that’s gold. Zelnora! She’s a mining expert. She worked in the Georgia mines as a youth, before Barton Sparks came along and—”
    “That’s right, Zelnora!” Erskine proclaimed. “Brannagh was talking about her expertise in the area of mining.”
    This time, Cormack did race into the cabin for his possible bag.
    Zelnora Sparks. Once again, the bountiful woman seemed the answer to his dreams.

Chapter Five

    Zelnora carried a basket of tortillas, bad Boston wine, and a bowl of frijoles made by Californio women at the fort. She headed back up to Brannagh’s store so she and Mercy could eat dinner. Sutter freely gave them the awful wine—awful because they’d wondered why, when the country abounded in grapes, they had to import such stuff at exorbitant rates—when he knew Brannagh was gone. Sutter had told them the Spanish government had discouraged the planting of grapevines as a protection against the monopoly of their own winemakers.
    Zelnora nearly dropped the basket when the three horses came stomping down the muddy road from upriver, Quartus jiggling like a marionette astride the saddle horn of one rider’s horse. Mr. Bowmaker! Quartus, true to his word, had brought the powerful mountain man back to her! How she would kiss and hug Quartus for the kindness of his heart—maybe even give him a new pocket compass. It had been so long since she had tussled with the delectable buckskinned man, she had almost thought the entire thing was a dream. Or that it had just been a temporary absence of sanity on his part and he had moved on to other, more attractive diversions. Frontiersmen, Zelnora knew, were accustomed to moving about the plains with impunity and abandon. On arriving in California, newcomers found themselves enlisted in the ranks of one or two classes, the hopeful or the despondent. Zelnora had been afraid Mr.