Picture Credit: Picture This: California Perspectives on American History

It was the year 1860, a time when California was a mighty place thriving on rampant harvests of grains and citrus fruits, blazing new railroads, and the undeniable good fortune of mining. That day, the sky was bright blue, and a searing heat kept all people of Bouldercross Town indoors, lounging in the shade. Noah’s family, the Elliots, were happy to partake in a day of checkers. Honest folk, they had arrived during the gold rush in ’53, though fortunately they had managed to find stable work as farmers and still dabbled in mining during fallow seasons.  

Noah was the youngest of three lively kids who never failed to give their parents something to worry about with all the mischief they got into, even when it poured outside. Despite the fact that the gold rush had died down, mining for silver, copper, and lead was still a germane industry who fascinated many young souls.  

“Noah, darling, come pick up your steamboats. Your granny might trip any moment if you leave them lying on the floor,” called out his mother while fluttering around the kitchen. 

“Sure, Mom, as soon as I finish this page. It’s great stuff,” he replied idly. 

“Haven’t you had enough of that Robinson Crusoe? Why don’t you come over here and play checkers with Lindsey and Rachel?” Mrs. Elliot asked as she fixed her hair in the foyer mirror. 

“No thanks. You know, I think I’d rather help Dad arrange the shovels outside,” Noah cleverly remarked. 

He slapped his suspenders on his shoulders and ran out to the dusty porch. Not two seconds after he had uttered those dutiful words, he was turning right towards the apple-green valley and skipping like an impatient mountain lion, his hair gleaming chestnut in the heat. Noah halted in the town square, a quizzical look on his face. “It’s an unlucky day for my usual business.” – he spoke to the lonely tumbleweed, and decidedly changed his path again.  

The rascal ran wild, away from the town and towards the only place in California where he could be alone with his thoughts—and with his secret. By the time Noah reached the mine shafts, it was past noon. He scurried into one of the tunnels, this particular one had run dry a few years back and now served as a hiding spot for outlaws and a few wild animals. He clawed through the rubble and dirt with practiced ease. Soon, he was muffling his glee as he brushed off the dust from a leather drawstring bag. His sweaty hands pulled the opening and gladly produced a gold piece, some silver and nickel nuggets and a handful of coins.  

The truth is that Robinson Crusoe’s story had inspired little Noah into a roguish habit of smuggling small and rather trivial pieces of fortune from folk in Bouldercross and stashing them in this sack, which he kept in such a desolate, convenient place. His dream was to become a great steamboat sailor and travel endless miles to faraway places like The Raj, Sweden or a lush island in the Caribbean. Thus, the young farmer turned to stealing while also plotting the day he would run away with his treasures and buy a boat. 

He quickly counted his treasure and covered it before emerging from the mine shaft. Blinded by the blasting sunrays, foolish Noah continued daydreaming to the tune of a bird’s chirp, just when a funny little freckled girl cut into his path.  

“Hey, Noah, what were you doing in there?” 

“Oh, Polly, you mean in the bush?” 

“No, dummy, in the mine shaft. I saw you come out of the out-of-order tunnel. You know, it was pretty easy. Since you need the light from the other tunnels, you don’t crawl in too much and stay just within sight,” observed Polly. 

She walked backward, facing him, watching the surprise show up on his face. Noah gave up and sat under the semi-shade of an old birch. 

“Well... have you been hanging around here lately? I mean, have you seen me go in the shaft much?” Noah asked anxiously, as if patting the ground beneath his feet for certainty. 

“Well, yes, I have. But don’t you worry, I won’t tell anyone about your little routine. Unless...” 

“Oh, Polly, please don’t! You can be my partner in crime—no! I mean, you can be Little John! And I´ll be Robin Hood. It’s all for a good cause.” 

Polly wasn’t convinced yet, even if her grin implied she was only amusingly toying with his fear. 

“Besides, I only steal from those who had the potluck during the gold rush. It’s bits and pieces.” 

“Alright, fine. But only if you buy me an ice cone with that fortune of yours.” 

Both children were satisfied and hopped back to the town square together.  

________________________________________________________________________ 

The weather had improved into a breezy and nice atmosphere, and so the following week was a busy one in Bouldercross. Farmers distributed wheat, barley, and grapes across the streets, the mill was at the height of business, milkmaids sold bottles by the dozen, and a newspaper was in everybody’s hands.  That meant Noah had multiplied his opportunities to not only pickpocket in a swamped square and among the hubbub of people but also nick a few coins through the windows of vacant homes. Each morning Noah received a teasing reprimand from Polly. For instance, one day, when passing the bounty office, Polly remarked: 

“You know, Noah, people are starting to say there’s a thief in Bouldercross…” 

“Well, is there a suspect yet? I’ll buy you two ice cones if you blame a rat,” Noah said. 

“A raccoon would be more likely. How are you even gonna buy a sailboat? Or get out of town?” Polly laughed at his ridiculous plan. 

“I guess I’ll just grab my leather drawstring, some clothes, food… and ride off on one of Old Jim’s horses! You wait and see, dear Polly,” claimed Noah. 

Each afternoon he walked triumphantly to the mine shaft and deposited his new finds in the leather pouch. Each night he went to bed having read more pages of Robinson Crusoe. 

Until one day, after a few weeks, Noah whistled his way into the mine shaft and grabbed his drawstring bag as per usual. He weighed it in his hands and suddenly started jumping on the spot, making brown clouds that filled the cave and sparkled with mineral dust. He had decided he was ready to embark on his adventure. Noah went home and packed some of his things and some fresh food and set down the green valley once more. When he made it to town he crossed the square, looking all around at the quaint little sod and log houses, and peeped at Polly's window. She ran outside and hugged him for a few seconds. 

“I hope you know what you're doing, Noah.”  

As the golden hour approached, the rascal threw his baggage over the shoulder and walked onwards... yet there lingered a bittersweet taste on his tongue. As he arrived at the shaft, he looked in nervously. A racoon had nested in his tunnel, and the place seemed even more desolate now.  

Then Noah continued towards Old Jim’s stable. He walked up a hill splotched with lilies and primroses, but just as he reached the premises, he looked beyond and saw about thirty horses, black, cream, brown, spotted, palomino, all kinds and colors, running free across the meadow. Noah stood shocked at the scene. Then a stable boy approached him, and the rascal tried uselessly to utter desperate words and shake his arms in alarm, but nothing. The stable boy explained what had caused such calamity. 

“A pity, ain’t it? You see boy, there’s a rumor goin’ ‘round that there’s a bandit in town. Strikes so fast nobody notices. It’s not much of a bother for some folk, but dang, Jim certainly got the short end of the straw. Poor Old Jim had to set his beloved horses free! He couldn't manage to feed all 30 beauties no longer, or care for their hooves, their mane, keep ‘em exercised... Long story short, his finances haven't been the best lately. Anyway, why are you here kid?” 

As the stable boy explained, Noah’s shock turned into utter disbelief. His hands gripped the leather strings tighter before dropping the bags to the grass, the weight of his stolen fortune suddenly becoming too heavy to bear. The stable boy gazed puzzled at the expression on Noah’s face, he had gone pale, and his eyes thoughtfully watched the impressive scene. As he saw the horses gallop into the mountains, he thought to himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted "bandit" to be the name on his back.