Wilderness Courtship Page 6

  After a few moments, sniffling and wiping her eyes, she got to her feet and faced the man to whom she had pledged her troth so many years before. As soon as he looked at her she demanded, “Tell me. How did you kill my beloved Samuel? Did you do it yourself or did you hire it done?”

  Louis’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Samuel Blackwell was hit by a runaway dray after the driver lost control of his team. It was an accident.”

  “Was it?” Her chin jutted out, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you prove it?”

  “Of course not. No more than you can prove it wasn’t. There is something I can do, however. I can check with my friend James Bennett at the Herald instead of taking the word of the Gazette. If Bennett says he got the same news about the El Dorado’s sinking then I’ll send men to Mexico to investigate and make certain the reports are accurate.”

  Pearl clasped her damp handkerchief in both hands and drew them to her chest over her cameo brooch. “Do you think they might be wrong? Could Aaron be alive after all?”

  “If he is, I’ll find him,” Louis vowed. “And if you want to learn whatever facts I do manage to garner, I suggest you get control of your wild imagination and go back to being the well-behaved wife I expect you to be.”

  He had her. Pearl knew she would capitulate, as had always been her practice, and Louis would win again.

  Drawing a hesitant, shaky breath, the enraged matron gritted her teeth and let her already-reeling mind spin out of control. If, in the final analysis, Aaron was really gone forever, perhaps she would join him in heaven. But, she added with surprising malice, she was not going to give up until she had sent Louis to a place where neither she, nor her loved ones, would ever have to see him again.

  The cruelty and callousness of her malevolent thoughts shook her to the core. Had her trying years with Louis made her so hard-hearted that she could actually contemplate taking his life? Apparently so.

  Weeping, she cried out to God for forgiveness, fell to her knees and begged Him for a return of the hope she had lost.

  Chapter Five

  Thorne spent the next morning at the docks, arranging passage for his party on the U.S. Mail Packet the Grand Republic. She wasn’t big but she was a fast side-wheeler with a shallow draft and could therefore put them ashore almost anywhere along the coast if need be, an important advantage as far as Thorne was concerned.

  There were plenty of other small packet boats he could have chosen. Steaming up and down the Pacific Coast, hauling mail, freight, passengers and gold dust had become a very lucrative business, especially in the five years since the original discovery of gold on the American River.

  Once every fortnight, around the first and fifteenth of the month, larger freighters arrived in San Francisco Bay bringing supplies, as well as the latest news. Representatives of the city’s twelve local papers waited at the docks for those dispatches, determined to be the first to disseminate information that may have come all the way from New York City, once the nation’s capitol and still an important focal point of world affairs.

  Thorne remained at the wharf in the hopes of getting his hands on further news about the ill-fated ship his brother had been aboard. He finally managed to obtain a newly arrived, abbreviated copy of the New York Herald and found the article he sought near the bottom of the second page.

  It read:

  The honorable Aaron Ashton, son of our fair city’s esteemed banker, Mr. Louis P. Ashton, was reported to be a passenger aboard the three-masted freighter El Dorado when she floundered and sank in a frightful gale off the southern coast of Mexico last month. Local reports indicate that all unfortunate souls aboard were lost. Mr. Louis Ashton, a friend of the Herald, has indicated to us that he will sail for Mexico at the first opportunity to ascertain his son’s whereabouts and to see to arrangements, if necessary. Our condolences and heartfelt prayers go out to the Ashton family.

  Thorne crumpled the paper and threw it into the bay. He watched while the ebbing tide beat the few thin pages against the side of the wooden-hulled freighter until the paper disintegrated. Soaring, screeching gulls dived at the shreds as if they were as incensed and anxious as Thorne.

  So, the old man was headed for Mexico, was he? Well, good. At least that quest would keep him busy and out of Thorne’s hair for the present. If Aaron had managed to survive after all, Louis would see that he received the best care possible.

  And in the meantime? Thorne turned and strode purposefully back toward the Montgomery House Hotel. In the meantime he would prepare his party as best he could and make ready to depart.

  He would have preferred that no one else knew where he was bound or with whom. Unfortunately those plans were already common knowledge, thanks to his public discussion with Miss Beal at the hotel dinner table. He would, however, request that her father and Mrs. Montgomery keep their counsel if other seekers came later. Even with Aaron and his abductors out of the picture it was possible that Louis might send more villains to wreak havoc on what was left of his brother’s family.

  Instead of going to his room, Thorne went looking for Charity and found her in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for the large, afternoon meal.

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” he said with a polite nod as he removed his hat. “I wanted you to know I’ve arranged passage on the Grand Republic. We leave tomorrow morning on the outgoing tide.”

  Charity laid aside her paring knife and dried her hands on her apron. Jacob, who was lurking in the folds of her skirt, giggled and ducked back to hide.

  “You’re going, too, little man,” Charity said. “Won’t it be fun! Your mama and Uncle Thorne and I are all going on a wonderful trip with you. We’re going to see your grandma and grandpa White, up in Oregon.”

  “Papa?” the child asked.

  “I expect your papa will join us as soon as he’s able,” she said.

  Thorne assumed by her ensuing look of contrition that she was hoping the Good Lord would forgive her attempts to pacify the child by stretching the truth. He smiled benevolently at both her and Jacob, then met her gaze directly and merely said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. I’ve laundered all of Jacob’s things, except what he’s wearing, and have done the best I could for Naomi, as well. We’ll all be ready to go whenever you give the word.”

  Thorne reached into his pants pocket, withdrew a twenty-dollar Liberty Head gold piece, and handed it to her. “I should have been as considerate of your needs. Please consider this an advance on your wages and buy whatever you may need for yourself, Miss Beal. I want you to travel comfortably.”

  Seeming reluctant but smiling nevertheless, Charity accepted the coin and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I don’t require much beyond what I already possess but I am obliged. Have you thought about other supplies we might need once we reach land again?”

  “I figured to provision our party in Oregon or Washington Territories rather than try to buy everything here and transport it all that way. Since we don’t know exactly what we’ll face, it makes more sense to wait.”

  “I suppose so. But it will be much more expensive. My sister, Faith, and I paid dearly to stock up on flour and bacon in Fort Laramie.”

  “I’m sure you did. One added advantage we’ll have is that the Northern Pacific railroad line has recently been completed as far as Puget Sound. Between that supply line on one side and the sea on the other, merchants should be well stocked.”

  “My, my. That’s amazing. I had no idea.”

  Thorne saw her glance past him and pause. He looked over his shoulder and his curiosity turned to annoyance when he saw who was standing in the doorway. “Can we help you?” he asked the all-too-familiar, portly hotel guest.

  The man smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t help overhearin’ you talkin’ about headin’ north. I have business in the territories myself and I was a mite curious, that’s all.”

  “Then I suggest you get yourself down to the docks and find passage on a packet bo
at. There are plenty to choose from,” Thorne said flatly. His stare was plainly meant to intimidate and the other man responded as he had hoped he would—he took his leave.

  Thorne gave him plenty of time to have reached the front door, then spoke quietly to Charity. “Was he standing there eavesdropping for very long?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t be certain. Why?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “That’s probably because he took Naomi for a walk without your permission. He seems harmless enough to me, pretty full of himself but otherwise not particularly odious.”

  “When did he first come here? Do you remember?”

  “A few days ago. I can check the register if you want me to be more precise. I think his name starts with an S. Maybe it’s Smith.” She chuckled demurely. “Like yours.”

  “Very funny. I suppose there must be some genuine Smiths somewhere or it wouldn’t be such a common name.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Thorne had run out of valid reasons to linger in the kitchen. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large key, gesturing with it as he said, “I’ll go check on Naomi. I trust she was well this morning?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Charity gently stroked Jacob’s hair as she spoke. “Mrs. Montgomery has been brewing motherwort tea for her three times a day, with a touch of lady slipper root and ginger. That seems to be helping settle her nerves. We haven’t heard her pounding on the door or raising a ruckus at all lately.”

  “Good. I’ve asked the doctor for a bottle of laudanum, too, in case she becomes more unhinged while we’re traveling.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “I hope not,” Thorne said soberly. “I sincerely hope not.”

  Charity had grown more and more agitated as the day had progressed. She doubted she’d sleep a wink all night, especially since she was now sharing her narrow bed with the wiggly child.

  That situation couldn’t be helped, she reasoned, gazing fondly at the place atop her mattress where Jacob lay, already napping. Poor little man. He was exhausted, as well he should be, given his trying circumstances.

  She had often tried to return him to his mother during the past three or four weeks. Each time, Naomi’s unbalanced mind had demonstrated how unwise that would be. Since Jacob’s mother had no idea who he was, there was no way Charity was going to leave them alone together. For all she knew, Naomi didn’t even remember how to properly care for a young child.

  She took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. Looking at her meager pile of belongings she was struck by how cumbersome the small trunk would be, especially if they were forced to travel astride horses or mules instead of employing a wagon on the final leg of their journey. Perhaps Mrs. Montgomery had a large carpetbag she could borrow. If not, she’d ask her to watch over Jacob in case he awoke and she’d make a quick trip to the dry goods store at the corner of Dupont and Washington.

  Charity glanced out the window of her second-story room and hoped she hadn’t waited too long to make this decision. Dusk was nearly upon the city, the rays of the setting sun reflecting off the waters of the bay and the ocean beyond to bathe the buildings in warm color.

  In that muted, golden light it was easy to overlook the muddy streets and the unattractiveness of the poorer sections of town, especially those nearest the wharf. Washington Street was due to be paved in stone soon, from Dupont to Kearney, so Charity knew it was only a short time before those buildings bordering it would also be spruced up. The canvas and tar paper shacks of the gold-rush era were quickly being replaced with real buildings, thanks in part to the new law forbidding frame structures within the densely built sections of the city, and she was often awed by the rapid changes.

  Hurrying downstairs, she found Mrs. Montgomery in the parlor, knitting while visiting with Emory. It was still hard for Charity to picture that woman taking her mother’s place but she couldn’t fault her father for being lonely. She just wished they could all go back to being the close family they had been when she was a girl—before he had headed for California to seek his fortune.

  The happy couple were chatting away as if they were the only two people in the world and Charity was struck by the notion that maybe her father had found true riches, after all. He had definitely found another life’s mate. Although she was glad for him, she was also quite aware that she was the only member of her family who was still alone, still unsettled.

  Forcing a smile she entered the parlor and greeted her future stepmother. “Annabelle, I wonder if you might have a carpetbag I could use? I’ve decided it will be too much of a bother to tote my trunk.”

  The older woman returned her smile. “I’m sorry, dear, I don’t. You can probably get one at the mercantile.”

  “I know. That was my second choice. Could you keep an eye on Jacob for me while I run down there? He shouldn’t be any bother. He’s sound asleep on my bed and I shut the door so outside noises won’t wake him.”

  “Of course. Don’t you worry one minute. I’ll run up and check on him right soon.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Charity said, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders and wishing she’d thought to fetch a bonnet before she’d left her room. Well, that couldn’t be helped. If she was going to reach the store before the clerks locked up for the night she’d have to go without one.

  “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the front door.

  The heels of her dainty shoes tapped on the boards of the raised walkway, reminding her that it would be a good idea to purchase a sturdy pair of boots, as well as the carpetbag. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d struggled to cross the barren plains and there had been many times during that trek when she had wished mightily for more substantial footwear.

  She was almost running when she reached the corner where the dry goods store stood. The shade was pulled and the sign in the window read Closed.

  Breathless, she rapped on the glass window in the entrance door and called, “Hello? Are you still there?”

  The face of a familiar gentleman appeared. He recognized her, unlocked the door and peered out.

  “I’m sorry to call so late,” she said. “But I’m sailing tomorrow and…”

  He smiled graciously, stepped back and Charity darted inside.

  Thorne had been in the What Cheer saloon, making plans to have some of the local men continue to watch for signs of his brother in spite of the probability that he would never return when he’d noticed a young woman in a yellow gingham dress hurrying past on the far side of the thoroughfare. He recognized Charity Beal immediately. Worried, he left his companions to follow her. When he reached the street, however, she was out of sight.

  His thoughts immediately turned to Jacob and Naomi. Yes, he believed they would be safe at the hotel because there were so many others present, yet the fact that Charity was away gave him pause. He figured she was merely out seeking something else to take on their trip but that probably meant that there was no one specifically looking after the boy.

  The hackles on the back of Thorne’s neck prickled a warning. Concerned, he wheeled and headed back toward the hotel at a trot.

  Annabelle had been having such a wonderful time making plans for the future with her groom, she waited longer than she had intended before going to check on the sleeping child. Climbing the stairs wasn’t as easy for her at sixty as it had once been, nor was it painless. Every change in the weather brought new aches and the harder she labored, the more she hurt, which meant that going from the first to the second floor was neither easy nor enjoyable.

  Still, she had promised Charity she’d look in on Jacob, so she would make the extra effort. She was halfway up when Thorne straight-armed the door behind her and strode into the lobby.

  Annabelle paused and greeted him. “Oh, good. You’re here so you can go check on the boy. I was goin’ to but these old bones are achin’, and that’s a fact.”<
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  “He’s alone?”

  “Sleeping. Miss Charity put him to bed in her room and he hasn’t made a peep. I’ve been listenin’.”

  Thorne hurried past. She was far enough up the stairway to watch the big man go directly to Charity’s door and ease it open.

  A few seconds later his shout startled her so badly she nearly lost her balance. Grasping the banister she struggled the rest of the way up and found him on his knees on the rag rug next to Charity’s bed. He was hugging Jacob. The child was clinging to his neck and sobbing.

  Concerned and winded, Annabelle leaned on the doorjamb for support. “What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

  The look Thorne shot her in reply was so alarming it made her demand more answers. “What’s happened? Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” Thorne said. “When I got here he was sitting on the floor, crying. All I’ve been able to get out of him was that he was going to see his papa.”

  “Maybe he was dreaming,” the older woman suggested.

  Thorne rose with the sobbing youngster in his arms. “I don’t think so. He kept saying he wanted to go with the man.”

  “To—to see my papa,” Jacob stuttered, sniffling.

  “What man?” Annabelle asked. “Where is he?”

  The boy pointed across the room. “Gone.”

  “Out the window?” Thorne asked.

  Jacob nodded, his dark curls bobbing.

  Rather than carry his precious burden to the window and expose him to possible lingering danger, Thorne handed him to Mrs. Montgomery. “Here. And don’t let him out of your sight.”

  She stood there, holding the boy and staring, openmouthed, as Thorne lifted the sash as high as it would go, bent double and stepped out onto the roof of the porch below.