Part 2: Dangerous Times at Spanish Flats

Jed didn’t waste any time. He bought supplies and a shovel, a pick and a gold pan, then he headed out with a map, crossing the American River as it was called and the up Bayne Road. Bayne Road was the main thoroughfare from Coloma to Georgetown and parts north. But it was very steep in places and therefore had many sections of road which only one wagon at a time could get through. Just like the bridge that crossed the river in Coloma, you had to take turns getting your wagon to the other side. Bayne was a narrow road that followed ravines and gullies from the river up to a plateau some 800 feet above. From some places on the plateau, you could look down on the river and watch the little specs of people along it trying to pan for gold.

He pitched his tent and since it was getting dark already made a fire and set up camp. The next day he would start digging. Funny though, he hadn’t seen a single nugget on the ground in his two hour hike up to the plateau. Well, it made sense that the obvious large nuggets had already been picked up, especially along a main trail like Bayne.

The next morning right as the sun came up Jed started work. He dug and “panned” all day, swirling his diggings in water beside a stream in the big flat gold pan he’d bought. At first, Jed thought maybe he was doing it all wrong because after a whole day, he hadn’t gotten so much as one gold flake.

The next day he ran it to an old fella just up the steam who showed him how to swirl the pan right. That worked better, but Jed still didn’t find hardly any gold flakes. He had to admit gold panning was hard work, but that didn’t matter. Jed was no stranger to hard work, and he had a powerful motive too. So he just said to himself that he would work a little bit harder each day until he had the pot of gold he dreamed about.

Days turned into weeks. Jed moved around to many locations on what he learned was the Georgetown Divide, that plateau high up in the foothills. He listened to all the stories of the folks who found a lot of gold and the folks who didn’t.

And he witnessed many a loud disagreement over gold too. The word “gold” was the noun in most people’s sentences. Everyone was talking about it. But in the end it didn’t take long for Jed to face the reality of the situation. Despite all the talking and walking and digging, there just didn’t seem to be that much gold in them thar hills after all. Sure he had panned some flakes and got real excited one day when he actually found a nugget the size of a seed. But it seemed like when he did gather up a bit of gold, it took most of it to pay off his bill at the general store back down in Coloma.

One day he was having a good run at a place called Spanish Flats. He’d found a good bit of flake and more seed sized nuggets in a stream, maybe fifty bucks worth in all. By afternoon he was still working the same hole and had gleaned another good batch of flake. He was feeling excited. “Yup, maybe after all, the dream was gonna be real,” he thought. It was his best day ever, and being the optimist he was, he saw more days a coming like this one. That evening he sat around the campfire bragging about his good diggings to his camp buddies.

In the wee hours of the morning Jed woke with a start from being jabbed in the ribs with something. It was a rifle. A scratchy voice under a bandana and hat said, “where’s your gold, fella? Give it to me now or you’re dead.”

At first Jed was angry. He turned bright red and jumped up to defend himself, all full of anger and ready for a fight. “Nobody’s takin’ anything from me, especially my gold. I dug it up myself and it’s mine.”

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jed realized that his friends were gone. Instead, there were three bad boys with floppy hats and bandanas standing there with guns pointed at him. It became clear. They were going to take Jed’s gold regardless.

In a flash, Jed thought of Adeline and his dreams for the future. He knew he better fork up the gold or he’d be dead straight out. As big as he was, he was no match for these bad-ass bandits.

So being smart as he was and a pretty good talker, Jed changed his tact. “Listen fellas, I expect you’re pretty tired and maybe a bit desperate to go to this length and such. I’ll give you my gold, all right. In fact,  I’ll tell you about my ‘secret spot.”

“Huh,” said the leader who was a short stubby guy with blood shot eyes. “You’d do that, tell us about your secret spot?”

Jed knew he had them. “Yup, just follow this creek here another two miles ‘til it forks. Take the right fork for half a mile, then scuttle down a gulley to the left. It’s a steep gulley, but stay with it. At the bottom is another creek, actually it’s a small river, and that’s the secret spot. Gold all over there. That’s where I got my own stash.”

Thwack…Jed took a blow to head from the butt of a rifle. The banditos  grabbed Jed’s gold stash and headed off down the creek headed for the secret spot. When he woke up, it was late morning and his head hurt bad. Jed still had his tent and tools and blankets, but his gold was gone. This Spanish Flats place was no place to be. Maybe there was no real good place to be around here, what with how hard it was to find the gold and all the risks of people taking it from you.

“At least those suckers are gonna’ be lost for a day or so trying to find that secret spot, and when they do, oh man, the trouble they’re gonna have!” Jed snickered. In fact, the secret spot was a place called Chile Bar where some real tough hombres from some South America country had set up a claim and were digging hard every day. They had a real reputation around there for not taking any guff from anyone.

Discouraged and feeling really down, Jed nursed his headache some and then began to give some serious thought to his situation. He was missing Adeline something fierce. He had been able to find some gold, but it certainly wasn’t just lying on the ground like he thought. And it certainly was dangerous around here too, what with bandito types and dangerous men ready to kill you for your gold.

This final blow, literally to his head from the banditos, was causing him to consider his options. More and more people flocked into Coloma and the Divide every day. And with more people came more competition and more danger everywhere as men with good intentions became trapped animals, angrily striking out at anyone and anything. Stealing, ruthless beatings and even murder were all around. Jed had to think about his options, which weren’t very good.