Free Tears of Gold by Laurie McBain Page A

best and hope it’s over soon. Then you can get to your damned gold mines.”
    “Mara,” Brendan called out as she opened the door.
    Mara turned partly back to look at him, a cold, withdrawn expression on her face.
    “It’s not a game or a play, Mara. It means everything to us. We can make a place for ourselves out here. It doesn’t matter where we come from, or that we don’t bear our father’s name. We’re equals out here. This is our only chance to change our lives, Mara, Believe in me, please.”
    “I want to, Brendan. God only knows how much I want to,” Mara spoke softly as she gave him a half-smile. She left the cabin, the door closing as he slumped into the chair.
    The following day Mara stood beside the railing of the ship as they prepared to drop anchor in San Francisco Bay. Paddy was jumping from one foot to another as he peered excitedly over the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of distant land as he dodged Jamie’s restraining hand. Mara’s shoulders shook with tired laughter as she stared at the bay surrounding them. She heard a step behind her and turned to see Brendan walking jauntily toward them.
    “’Tis a fine sight, to be sure, Brendan O’Flynn,” Mara said, hiccupping as she tried to control her laughter.
    Brendan gave her an odd look and followed her outspread arm to the scene before him. Mara laughed nervously at the ludicrous expression on his handsome features, then turned her own gaze back to the stretch of water between their ship and the shore.
    “Jaysus,” Brendan whispered as he stared in bewilderment at the abandoned ships cluttering the horizon. Hundreds of masts rose starkly from the rotting hulks of once-proud sailing ships, now deserted and forgotten by crews who had caught the gold fever.
    Mara looked beyond the debris-filled harbor and canvas-covered sandhills to the higher hills in the distance. San Francisco. Never had she seen the likes of it before. Frail wooden structures and untrustworthy-looking tents clung precariously to the steep hills that surrounded the city. In fact, Mara thought in amazement, it was the hills that caught your attention, the buildings no more significant than the scraggy, windblown trees dotting the hillsides.
    “Is this San Frisco, Mara?” Paddy asked. “It’s ugly,” he added in disappointment, voicing both Mara’s and Brendan’s thoughts.
    “’Tisn’t London, to be sure,” Mara replied softly, “Nor is it what you were expecting, is it, Brendan?”
    Brendan dragged his gaze from the harbor and silently stared at Mara, his eyes for once lacking their sparkle as he returned her direct look. Mara clenched her fist as she saw his lower lip tremble slightly as he tried to recover. Only once, long ago in Paris, had she seen Brendan so deeply affected. Even Molly’s desertion had not moved him as much as this surprising scene.
    “Well,” Brendan began slowly as he sought for his usual glib retort, only to falter as he looked again at San Francisco, “’tis a young city yet.”
    Mara glanced away rather than see the defeat on Brendan’s face. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she heard the sound of the ocean as it lapped against the sides of the ship. Overhead the raucous cries of gulls disturbed the quiet as she came to the realization that it was Brendan’s dreams that had kept them all going. His looking on the bright side of everything had her believing in the golden dream as well. If Brendan’s belief died, then what did they have left?
    “The streets may not be paved in gold, more like mud I be thinkin’. But the O’Flynns have never liked things comin’ to them easy,” Mara said, a laugh trembling on her voice.
    Brendan turned to look at her, a hint of mischief beginning to grow in his dark eyes as he caught her mood. He threw back his head and breathed deeply of the salt air, expelling it on a hearty laugh.
    “To be sure, ye’re an O’Flynn, Mara, and if there be gold out there we’ll have it in our