Genre: General, uber (Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer, Autolycus)
Rating: PG-13
Summary:Four descendants of our favorite characters search for the riches of life during the California Gold Rush of 1849.
Author's notes: This is a uber fanfic, set during the mid-19th century Gold Rush. What makes this story different from my previous ubers is that I've included not one, not two, but four descendants of our familiar characters. It was quite a Herculean task, but I'm hoping the final result is worth the read. Also, I decided that for once I would include my own hometown in a fanfic. I never have before, so I thought it might be something fun to try. I'm not going to reveal which hometown it is, though.
Also note that I've taken a few liberties with history in his fanfic (nothing major, but enough to suit the purposes of this story). If the producers of "Xena" could get away with altering history now and then, I can too. I don't know if John Sutter was married, for example. Please note that John Sutter has been "Xena-fied" for this story. I'm sure my depiction of the man is much different from the real thing. I mean no disrespect to his family or his memory. Plus, I'm not comfortable with the fact that just men went California at first.
Spanish/Yiddish alert: There is a sizable amount of Spanish words and phrases in this fanfic, but I've tried to limit it to phrases that should be familiar to most non-Spanish speakers. There are also some Yiddish terms in this fanfic, but only a handful.

Prologue: 1848, California

It was late summer, and John Sutter was getting ready to harvest his crops. Waking up at 4 A.M., and after doing his daily chores of milking the cows and collecting eggs, he was ready to start work by 5 A.M.

It was lonely out here in northern Mexico. There were no pueblos or neighbors for miles. It gave him plenty of land to grow crops, but didn't make for a lot of company.

This year he had an average yield, but he was hoping to expand his farmland an additional 30 acres next spring. More crops, especially if they weren't ruined by bad weather or a dry summer, would mean more money. Money was something he really wanted.

He spent several days harvesting his crops, coming home each day more exhausted than the last. He loved planting the crops in the spring, but harvesting took a lot out of him. He hated using the latest technology, even thought it meant more work for him. His ancestors before him had had to till the fields by hand and with oxen, and he wasn't about to give up the tradition just yet. Once he had the corn harvested and the husks removed, he went about the task of finding an additional thirty acres to plow, to get ready for the springtime. He was exhausted, but if he didn't do the plowing now, the ground would never be ready in March, when the ground was still hard.

Things went smoothly until he plowed ten acres of his additional thirty. The grass became rougher, and the oxen strained to pull the plow forward. After the plow cracked, John got down and started digging in the dirt, trying to find the source of the problem. The soil was tougher here for some reason. As he tried scraping through, he thought he saw a golden glimmer.

He ran back to his shed and grabbed his pickaxe. After he broke through the rough surface, he bent down again and looked in the hole. He reached in and pulled out a small nugget. It was the size of a small rock, but it shimmered in the morning light.

"Gold," he said, awed.

Part One: March, 1849, Hannibal, Missouri

The steamboat pulled into port after several weeks on the Mississippi River. It had been a special trip for the rich to visit Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The trip had included a visit to the Mardi Gras.

As the guests disembarked, nobody paid attention to the four men who shouldn't have been there. They had stolen the wardrobes of some passengers and cleaned themselves up so nobody would notice they didn't belong. While they were on board, they stole everyone blind, taking a lot of jewelry and other possessions.

"Yessie, this was a great idee ye had, Brendan," said Glen Cooke, holding his bag of loot (which he'd kept in his pants). "I hated gettin' gussied up to do it, but we got enough loot t'last us till we're old 'n gray!"

"That was the idea, boys," said Brendan Clyburn, looking in a small mirror while fingering his mustache. "Take those rich bastards for all they're worth. Now we get to live like kings too."

Brendan, Glen, Trevor Hardstadt, and Grover Marks had been robbing the people of Missouri for years. Brendan knew all the tricks to keep them one step ahead of the law. He came up with the ideas, and others followed along. Only Trevor ever second-guessed him, because he was the only man besides Brendan who'd had at least a high school education, but he normally went along if the others did.

"Hey boys, look at this!" said Grover, bringing over a newspaper. "Gold discovered in Caly-fornia! We've got a jackpot waitin' for us!"

"Isn't that where the Mexicans live?" said Trevor.

"Yeah, but who needs jewl'ry when we can get us some nuggets? We don't even have girlfriends to give these to!" said Grover, holding up the bag.

"Sounds like California's the place to be," said Brendan, turning to face them. "Even if we don't find gold, somebody else is bound to. We'll steal it from them."

"Who says we won't find gold?" said Trevor. "I say, let's catch the first wagon train west!" The others cheered.

"All right, let's head out," said Brendan. As the others left, leaving their loot from the ship behind, Brendan tucked his bag into his pants again.

Trenton, New Jersey

A large group of men stood cheering in an alleyway. Two men dressed in little more than shorts were engaged in an amateur boxing match. One boxer was 200 pounds (most of it muscle from working in shipping) and was about 5'10. The other was 150 pounds and 5'5. The lighter man was obviously losing the fight, but he pressed on, swearing he wouldn't give up until either one of them fell.

Jacob Mackenzie, a young man about 20 years old, started working his way through the crowd, carrying two large books. He was too used to these street fights. They went on at least once a week in this same alley. It made getting home from classes difficult. He'd already had two pairs of glasses broken, three bruised ribs, and several ripped shirts, and that was just this school year. This was the quickest way back to his dorm, though.

One guy pushed him over. "Out of the way, half-and-half!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," said Jacob as he fought his way through the crowd.

"Hey, half-and-half, why don't you join in?" said another kid. "Maybe you can knock McEvoy out of the fight." He meant the 150-pound boy, who was starting to get disoriented.

"Um, no thanks, I, uh, I gotta study. Excuse me," he said, almost all the way through the crowd. As he made it to the door, he heard a cheer as McEvoy was finally knocked out of the fight. Readjusting his glasses, then his books, Jacob worked on opening the door.

He hated being called "half-and-half", although it was one of the nicest nicknames he'd ever been given. The son of a Jewish mother and a Catholic father, he was a social and family outcast back home. Both of his parents' families had objected to them marrying outside of their faith, and didn't believe that two people could fall in love regardless of their religion. Jacob had seen his grandparents at least four times in his lifetime. The neighborhood children weren't allowed to play with him, though there had been a few exceptions (all of them from parents who weren't Jewish or Catholic). He'd practiced the teachings of both faiths, which his parents had long before agreed they would do with him. Although a man born of a Jewish mother and Catholic father was actually an automatic Catholic, Jacob's parents believed that he should know the practices of both religions, and be proud of where he comes from. Jacob didn't participate in the fasting that came with Lent, but he gladly celebrated Easter. He celebrated Rosh Hashanah and Hannukah, but also celebrated Christmas.

Things were also difficult for his parents. Jews and Catholics both had faced a lot of prejudice in their city. The residents of his neighborhood had been almost exclusively Jewish, and the next neighborhood had been almost exclusively Catholic, having been segregated by the city into specific housing. His father had had to find a low-paying job. Jacob went to school only a few towns away, to cut down on costs. He only stayed in the dorms because he wanted to know what it was like to live apart from his parents. Several of his classmates that had taken a liking to him, and had more well-to-do parents, helped to pay his tuition, in quarterly installments.

Jacob had faced only mild prejudice from his classmates. The students were pretty tolerant as a whole, though most parents were not. He had a great personality that attracted people to him, though he had few romantic relationships. He knew which intolerant students to avoid.

His roomate was also Catholic, so Jacob had at least that in common. He was Scottish Catholic, though, and his roomate was Irish. Patrick's parents were immigrants, unlike Jacob's parents, so they cared more about the culture differences than Jacob and Patrick did. Patrick was a good man, and he loved to tease Jacob frequently. He was the closest friend Jacob had ever had, and he was glad for it.

Patrick was reclining on his bed studying when Jacob returned, and he flipped over when he heard the door close. "Hey Jacob, have you heard the news?"

"What news?" asked Jacob.

"It's all over the campus. I'm surprised you haven't heard," said Patrick.

"My last class was cancelled today. I was at the library," said Jacob.

"Oh," said Patrick. "Anyway, they found gold in California. That's in northern Mexico."

"Really?" said Jacob. "I mean, they found gold?"

"Yeah," said Patrick. "Wow. A man could make a nice fortune out there."

Jacob was quiet. Patrick looked at him. "What are you thinking about?" he said. "Already counting the nuggets you can find?"

"You know, my parents could use the money," said Jacob thoughtfully.

"So could mine, but I'm not leaving in the middle of the semester," said Patrick. When Jacob didn't say anything, Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Jacob, you're not thinking of going out there, are you? You wouldn't last a week."

"I really want to help my parents out," said Jacob.

"California's thousands of miles away," said Patrick. "Those gold-seekers will rob you of everything you have, even if you don't have gold. If you're killed, who am I going to hang out with?"

"Richard?" said Jacob, teasingly. Richard was a man in their dorm whose idea of fun was one hour of partying while taking a break from writing a ten-page term paper.

"No thanks," said Patrick, laughing.

"I want to go," said Jacob, turning serious again. "Besides, I don't think I'm going to pass my biology class. Maybe I can use the break from school. It's better than getting an F."

"The teachers aren't going to like it," Patrick reminded him.

"My parents probably won't like it either, but I want to make them proud of me," said Jacob. "They've been through enough."

Joliet, Illinois

Lyndsay Orville had known her husband to be a practical man. Although she hated her parents arranging her marriage to Harold Orville, one of the few things she liked about him was his logical mind and his predictability. Unfortunately, he was also eager to earn more money.

When Harold had read the article in the Joliet Signal about the gold discovery in California, he hadn't hesitated in getting his things together and getting ready to head west.

"Harold, California's two thousand miles away," said Lyndsay, following him as he gathered his things. "We've never even crossed the Des Plaines River. You're crazy."

"Lyndsay, we need the money," said Harold. "My parents' farm is running on hard times. We could use some extra cash if we're ever going to have a family. My sister could use the money for a new place when she gets married next fall. If I can find one lousy piece of gold while I'm out there, I can earn enough money to pay off our debts."

"Harold, you're not exactly ready to handle that part of the country," said Lyndsay. "There's Indians and Mexicans. There's mountains. There's the Mississippi. How are you going to make it to California?"

"I'll find a way," said Harold. "There's wagonn trains heading west as we speak, some coming from as far east as Massachusettes. There should be people in those groups that could help me get there. The people who live in the Appalachians should know how to cross mountains, and I'm sure a lot of people live near oceans or rivers. I can get all the help I need from them. Don't worry."

Lyndsay put her hands on her hips. "Well, if you're going to insist on going, take me with you."

Harold chuckled softly. "Oh, no. This is no job for a woman. You think I'm ill-prepared-"

"I am not going to sit around here waiting to see if you'll come back," said Lyndsay, her voice rising. "If you die out there, I may never hear about it. I should come with you." She moved up behind him and circled her arms around his waist. "At least you won't be lonely."

He ignored her advances. "If it's not safe for me, it's not safe for you."

Lyndsay sighed in frustration. "Harold, I know we haven't had the happiest marriage, but don't you love me? You never tell me that you love me."

"What brought this up?" he said. "I love you," he said, sounding more like he was just trying to convince her. "It wouldn't be right for a husband not to love his wife."

"God, you make it sound like you're talking to a college professor," said Lyndsay. "You don't have the slightest idea how to be romantic. All you know is what you read in books."

Harold didn't answer her.

"All right, let me put it another way," said Lyndsay. "If you don't come back in two years, I'm leaving you, whether you turn up alive or not."

"You really aren't giving up, are you?" said Harold. "All right, have it your way, come to California. Maybe we'll handle it better together."

"That's all I ask," said Lyndsay.

Mesa Verde, California

It was 9 A.M., and a palomino horse was galloping across the countryside. Riding it was a young woman named Graciela Delgado. She had long black hair, striking blue eyes, and tan skin. She fit in easily with the locals with her looks. No one knew that she had only been a native of Mexico for 15 years.

She dismounted at the mercado, and let her horse graze while she went inside the store. She preferred riding bareback, so she never had a harness to tie up the horse. If she needed to keep Amarilla in one place, she would use rope. She trusted the horse enough to know it wouldn't ride off.

"Buenas dias, Senorita Graciela," said Bernardo, the clerk at the store.

"Buenas dias, Bernardo," Graciela replied. "Is business good today?"

"No, but I hear it will be soon," said Bernardo.

"Why is that?" asked Graciela, going over the fruit.

"You didn't hear?" asked Bernardo.

"No, I've been in Chihuahua for a few weeks," said Graciela. "One of my friends was sick."

"Ah, lo siento, I'm sorry," said Bernardo. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She'll pull through, gracias El Dios," said Graciela.

Bernardo smiled. "The news has been all over town. Gold was discovered in this territory, on some hombre's farm."

"That's great," said Graciela. "Now he'll be a rich man."

"He won't be the only one," said Bernardo. "The word has spread all over los Estados Unidos and Mexico. People are coming here, here, to California, for gold."

Graciela froze. "How many will come?"

"Oh, hundreds, thousands," said Bernardo. "And they're going to want food while they're here. I can't wait."

Graciela ignored him and purchased the food she was looking for. She said goodbye quickly and left. She hopped on Amarilla and set her in a quick trot.

The last thing she needed was a flood of people from the east coming to California. She had been hiding in Mexico for the last 15 years, hiding from the law. It had all been a case of misunderstanding.

In 1834, Graciela had been Agatha Hampton, a young girl of 15 who had been tilling her family's farm in Virginia. She'd heard a noise behind her, and saw a large man dressed in a long black coat and black pants climb clumsily over the fence. She saw a glint of steel, and had a feeling he was coming to rob and kill her family. She ran back to the shed and snuck into the house with a rifle. The minute she came across the intruder again, she shot him.

The courts hadn't believed her claims of defending her family. The intruder was the son of the mayor, Mr. Anderson, who was well-respected in the community. The boy had been stealing behind his father's back, selling possessions for drugs. The story only came out after his death, but no one believed it. Agatha was going to be arrested, but she escaped soon after being thrown in prison, which hadn't been very easy. She escaped to Mexico, changing her name and appearance.

If people from the east and Mexico came here, chances were good she'd be found and arrested. She'd be hanged.

Bernardo hadn't seen when they'd arrive, but she had to assume it would be within a few months. She had to figure out what course of action to take.

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