“I have absolutely no regrets about leaving England and coming to Barkerville,” I said. “And John? I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve let it go. What about you? Any regrets?”
“Not a single one. Coming here is the best thing I’ve ever done.”
An understanding passed between us. We knew we would always have each other no matter what the future brought.
I squeezed her hand. “Let’s go find your father and Jacob.”
They were waiting for us outside the door. When he saw his daughter, Mr. Roy looked proud enough to burst. Sarah took her father’s arm and began to walk down the aisle. I gathered up Jacob in my arms and followed behind. At the altar, a nervous-looking Louis waited, but the moment he looked up and saw Sarah smile his nerves seemed to melt away. They gazed at each other with such love and I felt an ache in my heart at the thought that I would never see John waiting for me in such a place, and an ache for all that I had lost. I cuddled Jacob closer to me and scanned the faces in the crowd and reminded myself of how much I had gained. I was a pebble tossed upon a foreign shore, but I had persevered and found the life I wanted, a future of my own choosing.
Epilogue
October 30, 1864
Sarah’s first wedding anniversary had been an excuse for a wonderful party, but I was happy to return to my ranch. It was a grey day in Barkerville, with the sun doing its best to peek through the clouds, and I hurried as fast as my limp would allow towards the BC Express office with my travel satchel in hand. I took the back route up the laneway just as the sun finally burst forth and flooded this little part of the world with cheerful, warming sunshine.
My route took me past the share exchange hut where a crowd had gathered. Men were shouting and waving their hands in the air. The shrill voice of the clerk stopped me cold. “Bids, gentlemen, one at a time, please—and who is offering to sell Horsefly Creek shares? Sellers, speak up!”
Had I heard him correctly? Was this frenzy over buying shares of Horsefly Creek? I still possessed ten shares, and if they were worth more than pennies now, I might as well sell them. I had never removed them from my purse, the one I was carrying now. I searched its bottom and came up with a frayed, crumpled piece of paper. I pushed my way into the crowd.
I called to the clerk and tried to catch his eye, but he ignored me. Taking my handkerchief from my purse, I waved it in the air and called to him, but to no avail. I was clearly invisible to these men. With a smile, I remembered Alice forcing her way into the ticket booth and grabbing the clerk by the collar. I needed to be a little more like her now. I pressed my way to the front until I was standing next to the clerk. He continued to ignore me. I slowly but deliberately stood on his foot.
He flinched and turned to me. “Madam, you are standing on my foot, and let me assure you, you are not a featherweight.”
“I beg your pardon, but I saw no other way to get your notice. I have ten shares of Horsefly Creek, and I wish to sell them to the highest bidder as soon as possible.”
His bushy eyebrows shot up and he called to the crowd, “Gentlemen, the lady here has ten shares. What am I bid?”
“Three!” someone shouted from the back.
“Four!” came another voice.
I did the math; forty dollars would be a wonderful windfall. I thought of the new smallpox vaccination supplies I could buy with the money.
“Gentlemen,” the clerk said, “I hear four hundred dollars. Is there a higher bid?”
I gasped. Four hundred. Did I hear him right?
“Four fifty!”
“Five!”
“Anyone else?” the clerk asked. There was silence. “Sold! Ten shares of Horsefly Creek for five hundred US dollars a share. Buyer and seller see the clerk inside.”
Dazed, I entered the hut where a second clerk bade me sit next to him and sign the back of the certificate. Then he picked up the pile of United States dollars beside him and began counting. I held my breath as he counted, still not quite believing it.
“Why does everyone want these shares all of a sudden?” I asked.
“Horsefly Creek hit a big vein and they don’t have a lot of shares in the public domain, miss,” he answered, unfazed. He kept counting. “Five thousand US dollars minus our five percent commission.” He pushed a note over to me. “Sign here.”
I assumed it was a receipt for the money, but I couldn’t focus well enough to read and, in fact, could barely produce a shaky signature on the note. A line had formed behind me, and the clerk asked me to move along, so I gathered up the bank notes. I pushed them into my purse, but there were so many, I struggled to close the clasp.
I wandered onwards in a fog, but once I settled in the stagecoach heading south, I started to think about what I would do with the money. I could use some to build a clinic, I realized. I could finally provide medical care, including vaccinations, to those who lived in these northern reaches, to anyone who needed medicine. I knew, in a way, that I was too late. That smallpox had ravaged the Native population already. But if I could give back to the first peoples of this land, even in a small way, I wanted to do it. After
