'ROSITA AND DORINA' (Con't) Five Senseless Murders --------------------------------------------------------------------- That afternoon they rode down the hills from the village toward the Gulf of California. The horse galloped magnificently; Joaquin's red sash blew in the light wind, his straw hat pushed to the back of his black, curly hair. Behind him sat Rosita, her warm arms clinging about her lover's waist. They sailed the gulf, rounding Lower (Baja) California, then commenced northward to San Francisco, the entrance to the gold country. Holding hands they smiled attentively at each other, Rosita unaware that anything else but love mattered. Joaquin, also captured by romance, dreamed of a long life with Rosita, but he also thought about the new land and its easy riches In the bustling and booming bay city, they soon found other friends from Sonora. Mexican women in traditional black and men in bright shirts and sandaled feet all laughed and talked about their new homes and the gold to the east. There were foreigners of all sorts, Chinese, Italians, Irish, and French, and the native Indians. Within the city whiskey was plentiful, and gambling was a quick way to lose a day's wages from the diggings. Some of the younger women had turned to prostitution to get wealthy, or in some cases, to survive. They dressed in gaudy satins and taffetas and wore dark stockings and high-heeled shoes with brilliant studs. They took up smoking and gambling, forgetting the morals of family and church. But Rosita was not one of them. To the end, she kept her sacred marriage vows and was true to Joaquin. She loved no other. By crowded steamer, they traveled up the Sacramento River, carrying a pick and shovel like the hundreds of other adventurers that hurried to the creeks and mountains of the Mother Lode. Leaving the boat, they purchased a mule and food and headed northward to the town of Sonora. Perhaps, because this new camp had been named for their home, the Muriettas thought it lucky. Joaquin would strike it rich, and in Rosita's mind, the couple would return to Mexico. But Sonora's claims had all been staked, so they moved on, camping along the crystal creeks and later along the beautiful Stanislaus River. That year the California legislature passed the Foreign Miners Tax Law, which imposed a levy of $20 for every thirty days on all foreign miners. Joaquin paid this from money he had brought with him and from what he won at gambling, a pastime he now enjoyed. The young Mexicans proudly staked out fifteen square feet, their share of this new land in the steep mountains of the Sierra Nevada range. They slept under a dome of brilliant stars that dotted the heavens. According to one newspaper account, Joaquin was one day approached by Irish miners and ordered off his claim. When he resisted, he was beaten, flogged, and robbed by them, losing $4,000. Later he was run off again by Americans, and this time one drunken miner smashed a bottle in his face. It is recorded that his wounds were treated by a Colonel Acklen. After these ruthless encounters with Yankee miners, Rosita and Joaquin grew disillusioned with the gold country. But rather than go back to Mexico, Joaquin decided to try his luck with cards. To Be Continued . . . Crossing the Calaveras River. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert April 21, 2005 iggy29@rnetinc.net