Final Epilogue

            Chief Solano and General Vallejo sit at the long dining table in Vallejo’s home in Sonoma. Morning sunlight floods the room. A silent native boy, a servant, comes through the door from the kitchen behind the house, carrying two plates of sweet bread and cups of hot chocolate before him. The men are sitting in thoughtful silence. Vallejo nods at the boy, who leaves the house.

            At length, Solano says, “If it is too painful, you do not need to tell me. It’s obvious that the Americans took everything from you.”

            Startled, Vallejo shakes his head. “Oh, no. It was not the Americanos. Well, it was, but it was not the bears. It was gold.”

            “Gold?” said Solano. “Some believe there is gold in Alaska, where I was these last years, but no one has found any yet. As for me, I found only fish.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his chocolate.  “A lot of fish!”

            Vallejo breaks a piece of bread, and says, “While you were gone, one of the Mormons working for Sutter found gold in the hills. When word got out, many men quit their jobs to look for gold. My vaqueros left the fields, my sailors left ships sitting empty in the harbor, and there was no way to defend against the huge tide of Americanos swarming in and squatting on my property.”

            Solano puts down his cup of chocolate. “Did they all find gold and become rich?”

            “Some did. There were millions in gold, but those millions were divided among thousands of men. Fremont – it’s sad to say – did very well, and so did the “pocket miners,” men who supplied the diggers: Levi Strauss, Mr. Wells, Mr. Fargo, and Sam Brannan. And a little girl named Lotta Crabtree became a millionaire, they tell me, by singing and dancing in the mining camps.”

            “And I suppose Captain Sutter is richer than ever, since the gold was on his property.”

            “Quite the opposite. Sutter also lost everything. He traveled to Washington to petition for help, since he had given the American immigrants so much support – but I do not envision any assistance coming from that quarter. My expensive lawyers persist in petitioning for my land grants to be honored, but to tell you the truth, I have lost interest.”

            “I can’t imagine you as an idle man!”

            “Oh, I am content. I have much to occupy my time and thoughts. I have been asked by Mr. Bancroft to write a history of California. I completed seven volumes that were lost in a fire and had to begin again. But I will persist. Our history – our people – must not be forgotten.

            “And a school for the deaf is coming here soon. I am trying to learn sign language to be able to communicate. And I am working on a coloring book for children to recognize the clothing and customs of the different native tribes. I have many children and grandchildren–“

            Solano laughs and shakes his head in delight. “You will always find a way to be joyful, my friend.”

            Vallejo stands. “Come upstairs with me. I will show you my latest acquisition from Europe – an indoor commode!”

            Solano’s face reflect his shock. “In the house?  Surely you do not keep waste in your house?”

            “Of course not. The servants take it out every morning. This is a modern household.”

            Solano shakes his head in amazement. “You think waste in the house is modern!”

            Vallejo puts his hand on Solano’s shoulder. “Old friend, you have to keep up with the times.”

            “Not if it means fouling my own house! Thank goodness none of my wives has learned of this strange custom!”

            “If they have not, they will. You can be sure of that. California is always at the forefront of progress!”

            Arm in arm, the two old men climb the stairs.