The Great Flood of 1862 inundated much of the West, including Sacramento. With the help of Senator Romualdo Pacheco, Molly and her family flee to San Francisco.
Outside, the roar of the storm howled like a wild beast. The city’s earthen dams groaned under pressure. They were simply too weak to hold. When the levees finally gave way, it was as if an entire ocean poured through the breach. The state capital, overwhelmed with water, was soon submerged in several feet of stinking brown muck.
“If only I had sent word to Caleb before it was too late!” Mother cried.
“It’s all right,” Molly said. “Surely someone will come for us.”
She threw open the upstairs window and leaned out to look around. The wind plastered wet hair against her cheeks. Heavy rain sheeted off the shingles. What had been their street was now a watery canal.
All afternoon, the girls took turns scanning the scene outside. Then, at last, a small boat appeared, its oars pushing through the brown floodwaters.
“Over here!” she yelled, waving with all her strength. “Please—help us!”
The boat rocked in the swift current, but the rower’s strong, sure strokes guided his craft. He avoided fallen tree limbs and floating fence posts to reach the house, and then she saw his face. Senator Pacheco!
“Miss McIntyre,” he shouted, “I’m here to help. Bring only what you must. The floodwaters are rising—we’ve no time to waste.”
He steadied the dinghy beneath the upstairs window and tossed Molly a coil of rope. She caught it with numb fingers and pulled with all her might.
“Hold tight,” he called. “I’ll keep the boat steady. Hurry. One at a time.”
Mother went first, clutching his arm and scrambling across the slick shingles before dropping into the rowboat.
“Careful, now.” The dinghy rocked alarmingly, but Lizzie managed to summon enough courage to scoot in beside Mother.
“Drat these long dresses,” Joanna said, crawling halfway out the window. Her petticoat caught on a protruding nail, but what did a snagged skirt matter in a situation like this? She tore herself loose, and Pacheco steadied her into the boat.
Now it was Molly’s turn. Letting loose the line, she tossed him the rope.
“Trust me,” he ordered. “I will not let you fall.”
She leapt.
His arms caught her, strong and sure, and he pulled her to him. For one breathless instant, she felt his heartbeat through their soaking wet clothes.
“Well done,” he murmured, and set her firmly beside him.
Molly’s heart flooded with emotion. She never imagined California would be like this. Here she was, clinging to a rope in a rain storm, trusting a man she barely knew. But every word of praise for him was amazingly true. And though the entire city was under water, she felt safer here, next to him, than anywhere else.
Careful to avoid masses of floating debris, Romualdo guided the dinghy through Sacramento’s submerged streets. Out in the open current, he gave wide berth to several thick clumps of bushes. Then a huge, drifting raft of uprooted trees slammed against the boat. Had he been a lesser man, they might have tipped.
“Look over there!” Lizzie cried, pointing to a squawking flock of unhappy chickens
stranded on what was left of a henhouse roof. A drowning cow floated by on a pile of driftwood, then came a half-submerged haystack and the bloated carcass of a fat black-and-white pig.
“It looks like an entire farm washed away,” Molly said. “Is there dry ground anywhere?”
With rain dripping from his beard, he gave her a confident nod. “No need to worry. The riverboats anchored up ahead are taking evacuees to San Francisco.”
Romualdo made sure they were securely settled on one of the boats, then said, “You’ll be safe now. When you reach the city, send to Caleb for help.”
Molly stopped him before he could leave. “Where will you go now?”
“I must look for survivors. Then I hope to learn Governor Stanford’s plans for dealing with this disaster.”
“I don’t want to think what might have happened if you hadn’t come when you did. I am so grateful.”
His dark eyes met hers with a long, searching look. Then he said, “I hope the weather is more enjoyable the next time we meet. If conditions do not improve soon, I expect to end up in San Francisco myself.”
“If you do,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble, “I hope you will look for us. I want to thank you properly for your help today.”
“Do not worry,” he said. “I will find you.”
Molly watched him go, thinking how much she hoped he would do that very soon.
