Journey of Hope, The Return by Nita Welch Owenby now live on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H5JC6M91
Journey of Hope The Return :From the rugged Northern California gold fields comes the powerful continuation of Andy Fredericks’ unforgettable journey. Once a boy fleeing North Carolina in search of a new life, Andy has forged himself into a man of strength, integrity, and unyielding leadership.In this gripping second book, success brings new battles:
A…
June 9, 1851: Victorian Governor La Trobe offers a reward of 200 pounds to anyone finding gold within 200 miles of Melbourne.
#ausnews #vicnews #history #victoria #australia #goldrush #latrobe
This book is the story of a boy who left North Carolina in search of a new life and became a man in the Northern California gold fields. To survive, he had to learn how to differentiate between those who were his friends and those who were his enemies. Quick to act when danger threatened, kind to those who were less fortunate, and a friend to those who would be his friend, he developed leadership…
Walking the Gold Rush Trail: Chasing Family History 170 Years Later - Russell Wangersky
What does it feel like to stand in the exact footsteps of your ancestor, 170 years later? In this episode, we sit down with author Russell Wangersky to discuss his captivating book, "Same Ground: Chasing Family Down the California Gold Rush Trail." Russell takes us on a journey back to 1849, following his 22-year-old ancestor, William Dodge, who left St. Louis with a wagon train bound for California. Using William’s original handwritten diary as his map, Russell retraced the grueling trek across the American West. We dive into what remains of the historic trail today, the surreal experience of matching up landscapes to a centuries-old journal, and how this profound journey gave Russell a deeper, broader sense of belonging to his family. If you love history, genealogy, or stories of epic human journeys, this conversation is for you.
Saying you were exhausted was an understatement. Walking to the mess hall from Hell’s Kitchen, you felt every muscle in your body ache. Your feet felt heavy, your shoulders and fingers stiff, your legs and arms like Jell-O.
You weren’t just physically tired, though. You were mentally irritated and exhausted. Not from doing double time in the excavator, but from trying to decode all of Parker’s mixed signals. Going back and forth from boss Parker to an almost shy, high school Parker was starting to frustrate you. More than it really should have.
Nothing had really happened between the two of you. It wasn’t like you really flirted with each other or had much physical contact aside from the ATV ride.
There wasn’t a slow-blooming relationship there…right?
You brushed the thoughts off as you stepped into the mess hall. Glancing over at the table where the guys usually are, you noticed Parker was already there and laughing with Mitch and Chris.
Even through all the noise in the mess hall, you could still hear his laughter over all of it.
While you looked between them, Parker looked up at you. His smile slowly faded into his normal boss face, and he looked away.
You noticed.
After getting your tray of mediocre dinner, you saw the open seat beside Parker. The only open seat at that table. You debated just sitting there and keeping to yourself, only to risk causing more mental irritation.
For a brief moment, Parker made eye contact with you again. This time, you were the first to look away. You headed over to a different table where some of the guys from the First Pick cut were sitting. Guys you’d never formally met before, but on a mine site, no one really did formalities.
As you walked to the table, you felt as if you were being watched. Sitting down between some guy you thought was named Darrell and another whose name started with a J, you looked back at your normal table.
Parker’s eyes on you. Not angry. Not cold. Just watching.
Your stomach did that annoying little flip again before you quickly looked away and reached for your drink.
This was getting ridiculous.
As you started to eat your food, Darrell started talking about the First Pick cut.
“I feel like we’re moving a whole lotta dirt for not a whole lotta gold,” he grumbled.
“Not to mention that almost every damn bucket’s got a boulder the size of a refrigerator in it,” a guy named Noah said from across the table.
“If only we caught the boss’ eye like that new operator in Hell’s Kitchen does,” the guy with the J name mumbled.
It was like they didn’t notice you sitting down literally between them. Instead of confronting them, you got curious and decided to ride it out.
“Right? Every time we need him, he’s over there practically undressing her with his eyes,” Darrell said, his voice laced with frustration.
“Can’t blame him, though,” Noah said. “She is the best and only good-lookin thing on this whole site. If anyone could get her, it’d probably be him.”
J name scoffed beside you.
“What you scoffin’ at, Jared?” Darrell asked, shoving food into his mouth.
Jared. That was his name.
“She’s probably just here to try and get his money. Show up, impress the boss, he falls in love, boom. She gets all the gold,” he said while pushing food around his plate.
“I suppose you gotta point,” Noah said. “He does favor her and her opinion over everyone else’s.”
By this point, you’d had enough. If steam could’ve rolled out your ears, it would’ve filled the whole mess hall with how hot you were.
Could you snap and curse them all out? Oh, absolutely. Instead, you swallowed it down and stayed somewhat level-headed.
Finishing your last bite, you wiped your mouth with a napkin.
“Yeah, couldn’t possibly be the fourteen years of experience,” you said flatly, clearly aggravated.
Silence.
The uncomfortable kind.
Noah and Jared both looked at you with wide eyes, and Darrell suddenly became very interested in his mashed potatoes.
“Uh, we didn’t know…” Jared trailed off.
“Didn’t say you weren’t good,” Noah muttered.
“Could’ve fooled me,” you spat, anger still coursing through you.
Nobody really knew what to say after that.
Across the mess hall, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.
Parker.
His jaw was tight again. And judging by the way he was staring at the three men around you, he had definitely heard every word. He shifted in his chair like he was about to stand. Then he stopped himself.
His hand tightened around the plastic fork hard enough that you thought it might snap.
Chris said something beside him, but Parker didn’t answer.
He just kept looking at you.
The only noise left at the table was the scraping against plates and the distant rumble of generators outside the mess hall.
Noah looked like he wanted to disappear into his hoodie.
Jared wouldn’t even look in your direction.
Darrell just stared at his plate.
Meanwhile, you would still feel Parker’s eyes from across the room.
Which somehow only annoyed you more.
With that, you got up and walked to the door. Parker’s eyes shifted to you, and he watched you the whole time. You tossed your tray into the wash bin and left the mess hall. A part of you wished he had stopped you from leaving so soon, but if he had, would you let him? With how upset you were, you weren’t sure how you felt.
Honestly, the comments themselves shouldn’t have bothered you this much.
You’d spent fourteen years in equipment and a majority of that in mining.
Men talking shit about women operators wasn’t exactly groundbreaking behavior.
But Parker hearing it?
Parker saying nothing?
That sat heavier than it should have.
You kicked the gravel road, hoping it would make you feel better even though you knew it wouldn’t.
Getting back to your room, you kicked your boots off towards the bed and headed for the shower. Looking at yourself in the mirror, a small thought of regret flashed through your mind - I should’ve never come here.
After washing away ten layers of dirt and frustration, you were dressed in comfy clothes, lying on your bed, and staring at the ceiling.
The room felt too quiet.
Outside, the steady hum of generators filled the camp along with the occasional distant laughter from somewhere near the mechanic's tent.
Normally, the noise blended into the background after a while.
Tonight, it just made you feel alone. You dragged a hand down your face with a groan.
“This is so stupid,” you muttered to yourself.
You had survived this long in mining, surrounded by men exactly like the ones in that mess hall. You’d been doubted before. Talked down to before. Hell, you’d practically built your career on proving people wrong.
So why did tonight bother you this much?
You opened up your messages to text your mom, but you saw three little dots appear next to another contact.
Boss.
Your heart immediately jumped into your throat.
One second passed.
Then another.
You stared so hard at the screen that your eyes started to hurt.
And then…nothing.
The dots disappeared.
No messages ever came through.
Your stomach sank.
“Coward,” you muttered softly.
Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you meant him or yourself.
The next morning felt off. Not just from Rick's absence, but also from how everyone acted. Especially Parker.
While getting ready, you had checked your phone three times with no texts from Parker. It was something that ate at you more than it should have. A week ago, you barely knew Parker beyond his reputation and whatever Discovery Channel clips people played in break rooms.
Now, somehow, the absence of one stupid morning text had your stomach tied into knots. At the end of the day, he was your boss. Even with knowing that, you kept wondering if you had said something wrong. Was he just stressed about Rick? Is he exhausted? Is he avoiding you? Or were you just reading it wrong?
Walking out of the trailer, the smell of diesel smacked you in the face. You headed into the mess hall, quickly grabbing a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee before heading back out and towards Hell’s Kitchen to start the day and try to distract yourself.
After reaching the excavator and doing your walk-around, you got in and fired up the beast. As the machine warmed up, you started to enjoy your breakfast.
This was how all your work days started. A gas-station-equivalent sandwich and coffee while everything in the excavator got ready for the day.
In the middle of your second bite and with zero sips of coffee, your radio crackled.
“I don’t pay you to sit in there and have breakfast. Get to work.”
Parker. His voice was firm and rough. The roughness in his voice caught you off guard. It was usually filled with kindness and, honestly, curiosity.
With your sandwich still in your mouth, you looked up at the ridge, and there he was. Leaned up against his truck with his arms crossed, hat pulled down, and radio in his hand. His jaw was clenched, posture stiff, and overall very mine-boss Parker. It felt like a staring contest for how long you just looked at him while he watched you.
You finished your bite, crumpling up the rest in the wrapper and tossing it into the small garbage bag. Taking a sip of coffee to wash it down, you cleared your throat.
“Copy that,” you said firmly. “Boss.”
With that, you started moving the excavator to the new mound to dig for pay dirt.
Lunch came faster than normal, probably because you were too lost in your own thoughts to notice time going by. Instead of being weird about everything, you decided it’d be best to do things as you normally did.
After grabbing a sandwich and a bag of chips, you went and sat with Mitch and Chris.
“Parker is in one of his beloved moods again today,” Mitch grumbled from behind his sandwich. Chris hummed in agreement.
As if they had called him over, Parker appeared next to you.
“I am not in a mood,” he snapped.
Chris made a face at you from across the table. You ignored him, because they weren’t entirely wrong. You weren’t sure what was going on, but he was definitely in some kind of mood.
Parker hesitated at the chair beside you. After a second, he walked around and sat next to Chris. This, too, caught you off guard, as Parker normally sat next to you during lunch.
While you were eating, you noticed that Parker kept talking to Chris and Mitch more than to you. You shrugged it off, pretending not to care. Meanwhile, in your head, it was a mess. Slowly, you became hyperaware of what Parker was doing, which was just eating lunch and talking with the guys.
The whole time you were eating, you wanted to look up and see if he was looking at you, but you stuck to your guns and didn’t. You simply ate your food and then got up when finished.
“See you guys,” you said.
Mitch waved slightly with his mouth full.
“See you, youngster,” Chris mumbled between his few bites of chips.
“Later, (Y/N),” Parker said quietly.
This almost made you stop in your tracks. Now he has decided to be nice to you?
You huffed quietly to yourself and kept walking.
“(Y/N)!” Parker called after you.
You stopped, not wanting to face him. But, remembering that he was your boss, you turned. A small piece of you held hope that he’d say something nice, and it would go back to normal. The tiredness in his face caught you by surprise, though. Not just from working or not sleeping enough, but also emotionally exhausted.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Double the amount of rock trucks that are loaded today. We’re behind and need to get pay to the plant,” he said flatly, then took a bite of his sandwich.
You stared blankly at him.
“Do my best,” you said, then walked out of the mess hall.
Once far enough away, knowing you’d be drowned out by the overwhelming noise of the wash plant and diesel engines. You stopped walking, putting your hands on your hips, and looking back at the mess hall.
“What in the actual hell was that?” You muttered.
You ran your hands over your face aggressively and groaned into them. Taking a deep breath, you headed to the excavator to try to get what Parker wanted done.
After a couple of hours, you noticed his truck up on the ridge. Except this time, there was no Parker near it. You shrugged it off and kept loading trucks until movement caught your eye through the dusty windshield.
Parker.
He was heading straight toward your excavator, boots dragging through the mud left by the rain over the last couple of days.
“This oughta be good,” you mumbled, dumping a scoop of dirt into a truck.
While you continued to scoop dirt, you watched him from the corner of your eye. You noticed he was walking slower than his normal ‘I’ve got shit to do’ pace. His hands were deep in his pockets, radio clipped to his waist.
Once he climbed up onto the track beside the cab, you reached over and pushed the door open.
For a second, neither of you said anything.
The diesel engine hummed underneath you while hydraulics whined faintly in the background. Dirt clung to the bottom of Parker’s jeans and to the edge of his boots. His hat sat lower than normal over his eyes, almost like he was trying not to be looked at too closely.
“What’s up, boss?” you finally asked.
“Just wanted to see if you were keeping up with everything and doing double the trucks,” he said, leaning against the small door frame.
You sat back in the seat, feeling the diesel engine vibrating through every piece of the machine and you. Glancing over at him, you noticed how tired his eyes were up close.
Not the tired you noticed earlier in the mess hall. This was different.
His jaw was tight again, muscles flexing every couple of seconds like he was grinding his teeth without realizing it. There were faint dark circles sitting beneath his eyes, and for the first time since meeting him, Parker actually looked worn down.
Like the weight of the entire claim had finally settled onto his shoulders all at once.
It was almost like he was holding something back.
You shrugged.
“Simply doing my best.”
There was a small moment of silence.
“I appreciate you always doing your best, (Y/N),” he said quietly, looking up at you.
You weren’t sure if it was the way he looked at you or how he said your name, but it made your stomach do that annoying flip.
The moment lasted longer than it probably should have.
Parker stayed leaning against the door frame, eyes fixed on yours like he was trying to figure something out. For once, he didn't look like the boss running a gold mine.
He just looked tired.
Like he wanted to say something and didn’t know how.
Your fingertips tightened slightly around the joystick.
“Parker-”
His radio suddenly crackled softly at his hip.
Parker’s eyes flicked down for a second before landing back on you. He opened his mouth slightly, like he was about to say something else.
Then the radio crackled sharply against his hip.
“Parker, you copy?”
Tyson.
The tension in the cab disappeared almost instantly.
Parker groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Always something…”
With that, he hopped down and headed to his truck.
Instead of jumping right back into the action, you watched him go back to his truck. He didn’t look back once. A second later, the engine started, and his truck disappeared up the ramp, tires throwing wet dirt behind it.
The ridge suddenly felt empty again.
You stared at the spot where his truck disappeared longer than you meant to before looking back at the cut below you.
You shook your head, reached over, and turned the radio up.
“Focus and get back to work, (Y/N),” you muttered, frustration in your voice.
At this point, you weren’t sure what to do.
One minute, Parker looked at you like there was something sitting right beneath the surface waiting to spill out.
Next, he acted like you were just another operator on the payroll.
It was exhausting trying to figure out which version of him was real.
A part of you wanted to ignore it completely. Just run equipment, collect a paycheck, and be part of the crew.
The smarter part of you probably should’ve done exactly that.
But another part of you wanted to grab him by the front of his jacket and ask what the hell is going on inside that head of his.
Ask why he kept pulling you close just to shove himself back behind some invisible wall.
If you knew anything about yourself, you knew that you weren’t going to play games.
