“Do you remember Thomas Fraser?” she said one day.
“Yes, ma’am. He was the man who took notes when we came west.” “That’s the one. He is here in town, still working on his book, and he has started a small school. I thought we might send you there. Although he knows your true identity I believe it would be worth taking that risk since I think he would be a good teacher for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A thought came to me. “What happened to Mr. Fletcher?” Her expression changed ever so slightly. “He is here. I see him occasionally on the street, but he goes to San Francisco quite often.” “I didn’t like him.”
“Nor did I. And I like him no better now. He is a gambler at least part of the time. Avoid him, Hannes.”
Later, when we were alone, I asked Jacob, about him. “Yeah, he’s around. He’s a bad one, boy, a real bad one. He’s become a sort of leader for a small group of thugs, but so far he’s done nothing anybody could catch him at.” Jacob was currying a horse. He paused for a moment, both hands resting on the horse. “Your grandpa doesn’t come to town too often. Only time he’s seen much is ridin’ to his house in town. Always has six to eight vaqueros with him … tough men.
“Rides a black stallion, big, fine-lookin’ horse, and the old man can ride. Has to, if he handles that animal, and he does. Believe you me, he does. “Keep out of his sight. You look like your pa, but something like your mother, too, or so the Indians say. Ain’t likely he’ll see you. He pays no attention to anyone, seems like, but you never know.”
Miss Nesselrode was interested in the desert, and she asked many questions about my life there and how I had lived.
“You must remember not to speak of it,” she warned again. “Although the chances are the subject will never come up. To Angelenos the desert is far away, and most of them know nothing of it at all. Nor are they interested. “That is part of the trouble,” she added. “This is their world and sometimes they seem to think there is no other. Unhappily for them, there is another world and it is filled with acquisitive people.
“When a Californio wants money, he wants it now, and he will pay for it. They do not seem to grasp the workings of compound interest, and they have always bartered for things and there has always been plenty of land, plenty of cattle. They are nice people, but they cannot seem to understand there may come a time when it is all gone.”
“Do you lend them money?”
“Yes, and I have warned them. They smile and thank me very pleasantly, but I am a woman and they are merely tolerating me.
“They borrow money and the interest is compounded monthly. When the notes fall due, no effort is made to collect because they who lend money want the interest to continue. Finally the borrowers have to give up thousands of acres of land to pay for comparatively small loans.”
She paused. “Thomas Fraser will be your teacher. You read very well, better than most adults whom I know, and you write well. Now you must learn to cipher, and you must learn something of geography. Our world today is growing small. At any time some faraway country may become important to you, to your country, and to your business. Above all, you must learn to be a good citizen, and that means you must learn how your government works and how to go about getting things done, either in government or business.
“The one thing we know, Hannes, is that nothing remains the same. Things are forever changing, and one must understand the changes and change with them, or be lost by the way.
“You have come into this world with good health and a good mind. The rest is up to you.”
When I awakened the next morning, I did not get up at once, but lay abed thinking. My enemy was here, close by. A man had been watching our house … Why? Had it something to do with me? Or with Miss Nesselrode? When it came to that, who was she? Why was she willing to take me in, send me to school, have me in her home?
Was it kindness? Respect for my father, and pity for him and for me? Or was it loneliness? Or was there some other reason of which I did not know? The reading of stories causes one to wonder about motives, but I could think of no reason why a small boy would be useful, but many ways in which he might be a trouble or at least an inconvenience.
While dressing, I thought of school. I wanted to go to school, yet I didn’t. I had known very few children of my own age, and none very long. Francisco had been the only one whom I could call a friend. We had moved often, and my few ventures into schoolrooms had not been pleasant. Other children taunted me. Said I spoke like an old man. Teachers were sometimes flattering, more often irritable, usually wary. My father and mother had taught me many things, had read to me from books usually read only by older people. In some ways I knew much more than my teachers; in others I knew less than any of the children. My teachers often realized how widely I had read and were nervous because of it. I did not want it so. I wished only to learn, and to be friendly. “Today,” Miss Nesselrode said at breakfast, “we will buy some clothing for you.”
“I have money,” I said.
“How much?”
“One hundred and seven dollars. My father left it for me.” “Keep it, Johannes, and say nothing about it to anyone. There are men in this town who would rob you for even one of those dollars.” She seemed to be considering, and then she said, “Perhaps we will invest a little of it for you, along with something of mine. It is never too soon to learn how to handle money.
“Many people know how to get money, but few know how to keep it. Wise investments are always based on information, Johannes, so the more you know, the better. The women know much more of what is going on than their men realize, although most women are simply not interested. Sometimes when we are among ourselves, they talk of such things, and I can learn who is buying, who is selling, and what the city officials are about to do. “Often men talk to me, wishing to impress me with how much they are doing and how important their activities are. I listen, Johannes, and I remember. “When you are a man, remember to tell no one of what you are doing unless you wish it to be known. The woman you are telling it to may be relating it all to another man.”
She looked at me suddenly. “Johannes? What do you wish to be? What would you like to become?”
I did not know, and I told her so, but the question worried me. Should I know? “There is time,” she said, “but the sooner you know, the sooner you can plan. To have a goal is the important thing, and to work toward it. Then, if you decide you wish to do something different, you will at least have been moving, you have been going somewhere, you will have been learning. “What did your father do? I mean, how did he make a living?” I did not know. He had taught school for a while. I know for a time he had worked for a newspaper. We had moved often, for even in the East there had been attempts to kill him. Or he thought there were. Yet, I was puzzled. I told her what he had done, but there were other times when he had traded in horses, when he bought and sold things. “With what, I wonder? Johannes, your father worked at things that paid but little money, yet you seem to have lived well, and you traveled. He paid for your trip west. Three hundred dollars for him, one hundred for you. It is quite a lot. Can you remember nothing else?”
She seemed to have an idea. “Was there no one he went to? Or some place to which he returned from time to time?”
I could remember none. Of course, I had been very young, and of those years there were only memories of places and people here and there. From the years, I could recall only brief moments, none of which seemed important. Although Miss Nesselrode had said we were to buy clothing for me, yet we went to no stores. She always took a walk each day, and on this day when she returned she told me a tailor would be coming to take my measurements. “You are tall,” she said, “and we must leave no clues, so we will lie a bit about your age. You will tell people you are twelve. It is a small lie and will turn away speculation if your grandfather should hear of you. “In any case,” she added, “there is no connection between your father and me.”