Josiah's Treasure (18 page)

“Oh, Sarah.”

“I am not going to talk about Daniel Cady and the way he may or may not look at me. You’ve said yourself I have other matters to concern me.”

She surged ahead of Lottie, scanning the cluster of girls waiting outside the locked front door. Minnie had her nose pressed to the window glass, her hands cupping the sides of her face to see inside. Emma was talking with Phoebe near the curb. But Anne was nowhere in sight, and she was never late.

“Where is Anne? She said she’d be here today.” Sarah searched the streets for any sign of the girl. “This isn’t like her.”

“Yesterday, when the carriage dropped Anne at her house . . .” Lottie paused on the word. Anne’s ramshackle rooms tacked onto the side of a saloon like a wart on a knuckle barely qualified as a “house.” “When she stepped down, I thought I heard her assure Minnie she would be here this morning. I do not understand why she is not.”

“I don’t either and that’s what worries me.”

“Perhaps she will show up later,” Lottie said hopefully.

“Minnie, did Anne say she’d be late?” Sarah asked.

Minnie peered over from the shop window. “She didn’t say much yesterday, Miss Sarah. She’s been in a strange mood for the past couple of days, if you ask me.” She waved at the shop door, an impatient flip of her fingers. “Can we go in and see? Cora told me how swell it is and I want to prove to myself it’s real!”

Sarah fished the keys from her reticule, unable to shake the feeling that Anne was somehow in trouble.

“Let’s go in. But keep an eye out for Anne, all right?” Unlocking the shop door, she ushered the girls inside. Before she followed them inside, Sarah peered down the road one more time, but no tall girl in a dark dress appeared.

Lottie patted her arm as she passed. “She shall be fine, Sarah. Anne Cavendish is as tough as they come.”

“I know.” Too tough. Too unwilling to let anyone know if she
had problems. How could she help Anne if the girl hardly spoke to anyone?

Sarah removed her hat and gloves. “Minnie, there are brooms and dustpans in the rear room. Take them upstairs. That’s where we’ll be working today. Phoebe, take that bucket and draw some water for washing. Emma, can you throw open the blinds?”

The girls hustled to their assigned tasks, eager to start work and turn the page on a new phase of their lives. Sarah watched them, hoping against hope today’s efforts weren’t just more wasted energy. But she hadn’t pursued financial backing like a bloodhound, and she hadn’t promised Ambrose Pomroy she would succeed, simply to fold under the threat Daniel Cady posed.

Sarah claimed one of the brooms. Behind her, the blind slats rose up the window with a clatter.

“Miss Sarah,” Emma called out, “there is a man on the sidewalk looking in the window.”

Sarah turned to see. With a tight smile, Ambrose Pomroy tipped his hat and headed for the front door.

Emma looked over her shoulder. “Who is he?”

“Our landlord, and I wonder why he’s here,” said Sarah. She could come up with a number of reasons, none of them good.

“M
r. Cady! Mr. Cady!” A man in an ill-fitting suit sprang up from one of the lounge room chairs, setting it to teetering. Balding and as thickset as a boxer, he didn’t look like someone Daniel wanted to be hailed by after yesterday’s mishap at the park and the sleepless night that had followed. He kept reliving the sight of Sarah sinking beneath the water until the image was branded onto his brain. She might have drowned. All that pluck and intelligence and noble zeal gone in an instant. The idea had left him in no mood to talk to a stranger.

So Daniel kept moving, heading toward the front door.

“Mr. Cady.” Grabbing up his felt derby, the man shoved aside two hotel guests angling for prime seats in front of the street window. Almost upending the cups of coffee they carried, he tossed off an apology and caught up to Daniel. “Mr. Cady, I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m busy and don’t have time to talk to strangers.” He didn’t look like anyone Sinclair might send over. He was far too scruffy.

“Then if you’re looking for an introduction, I’m Archibald Jackson.” Shorter by a half foot, he grinned up at Daniel as if they were meant to be the best of friends. “I work for the
San Francisco Chronicle
.”

“I definitely don’t have time to talk to a reporter.” Daniel started walking faster, past a group of men trailing aromatic cigarillo
smoke in their wake. One caught Daniel’s eye and smirked over the reporter, jogging to keep abreast of Daniel.

Archibald Jackson was either used to being smirked at or didn’t much care, because he didn’t slow down a beat. “If you don’t talk to me, then I might not get the story straight, Mr. Cady. And you might not like that.”

Daniel halted. “What story?”

“It’s come to my attention that you’re the long-lost son of Josiah Cady.” He punctuated the statement with a crisp jerk of his head and another grin. He smiled too much. “Yes it has. I’ve got good friends in well-connected places, you see.” His gaze darted about, as if one of those good friends might be standing nearby in the hotel lounge.

“So what if I am?”

The reporter pursed his lips and considered him. “Know anything about gold nuggets he might have brought with him to San Francisco?”

Daniel dug a heel into the thick pile of the Occidental’s Turkish rugs and started walking again. “I’ve heard that rumor. I don’t think it’s worth wasting ink on, Mr. Jackson.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Cady.” He snagged Daniel’s sleeve. “Just tell me if I’ve got this part right. That he made his find in the Black Hills. With a partner by the name of Thayer.”

Had that been Josiah’s partner’s name? He couldn’t recall one way or the other. “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?” Jackson pressed.

“Listen, Mr. Jackson, I’ve got business to attend to and certainly don’t have time to stand around and talk with you. So if you don’t mind . . .” He didn’t care if the man minded or not. He was headed out to see Sarah and it made no difference what this shiny-headed reporter thought.

“You’ll be hearing from me again, Mr. Cady! I’m as hard to shake as a bulldog with a bone! Yesiree!” Jackson called after Daniel’s retreating back as he strode through the door and onto
the street. “And give my best to Miss Whittier!”

Daniel wouldn’t give the fellow the satisfaction of reacting, but the question dogged him all the way to Sansome Street as to how Jackson had guessed where he was headed.

“What might we do for you today, Mr. Pomroy?” Sarah asked after she’d introduced the girls and sent them all out of the room. She suspected Minnie lurked just around the corner in the back room, eavesdropping. If Cora were here today instead of recuperating, she’d be right at Minnie’s side.

He already knew Lottie socially through her parents and made polite inquiries into their health before returning his attention to Sarah. “I had business with another tenant down the street, Miss Whittier, and I thought I’d stop in to see how you were faring.”

“It’s our second day of work in the shop. We have a great deal to accomplish yet,” Sarah supplied when she noticed his gaze slip past her to examine the pile of stripped wallpaper curled in the corner, the forlorn stain on the ceiling. “But we can manage. None of us is afraid of labor.”

Lottie’s hasty glance in Sarah’s direction suggested she was wondering what Mr. Pomroy wanted also. “Our equipment and cabinets should be arriving in a few days. You will be able to see then, Mr. Pomroy, how the business will function much more clearly than is visible today. You will be pleased, I am certain.”

His polite smile twitched his mustache. “I suspect I will, Miss Samuelson, but I’ve recently heard some news that has me concerned about this shop’s future.”

“What have you heard exactly?” Sarah asked, unhappily anticipating his response.

“That a Mr. Daniel Cady arrived in town a few days ago. A son Josiah never told me about. I presumed all his children were deceased, as he once told me.” Mr. Pomroy looked disappointed in the friend he’d trusted.

“Josiah said the same to me.” As expected, his visit was about Daniel. These days, her whole life seemed to revolve around him, the irksome center of a maelstrom. “I was just as surprised by his arrival as you are.”

He regarded her soberly. “He’s going to claim Josiah’s assets, I gather.”

Minnie didn’t stifle her gasp quickly enough to keep Sarah from hearing it. “You know I have been promised sufficient funds to pay the rent per our agreement, Mr. Pomroy, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Granted, it won’t be as easy to cover all my expenses as I’d originally planned, but you and your partners won’t be affected by whatever Mr. Cady does.” Had she been persuasive? Did Mr. Pomroy look convinced?

“Do your backers know about him?”

“I don’t know if they’ve heard yet,” Sarah answered, her forced optimism fading. Lottie moved to her side, a bastion of strength.

Mr. Pomroy's gaze softened with pity. “While I was learning about Mr. Daniel Cady’s arrival in town, I also was informed that a hearing contesting Josiah’s will has been set for the Monday after next in Judge Doran’s chambers.”

So soon. Daniel was moving fast. “I hadn’t heard.”

“I am sorry, then, to be the one to tell you.”

“I don’t intend to change my plans, Mr. Pomroy. My girls still need me, and the outcome of Mr. Cady’s case has yet to be decided.”

“I suppose we shall see what transpires. In the meantime, I’ll try to allay my partners’ concerns.” He considered them both. “The rest is up to you two ladies.”

Lottie smiled as serenely as the Madonna statue outside the neighborhood Catholic church. “You do not need to worry, Mr. Pomroy. The shop will be fine.”

“I worry all the time, Miss Samuelson. It comes with the job.” He tipped his hat and reached for the door. “Good day to you both.”

Minnie shot through the doorway to the back room before the overhead bell could stop jingling. “Miss Sarah, is it true?” she asked breathlessly. “Is Mr. Cady going to take what Mr. Josiah left you?”

Sarah clutched Minnie’s hands and peered at her and the other girls, who had joined her in the center of the room. Phoebe looked confused. Emma’s body had gone rigid, as if readying herself for potential upheaval.

“I will not let him ruin anything for us. We will be fine. Our backers are still standing by us,” she said, whether or not it remained true. “What’s more, we’ll soon have plenty of customers buying all your wonderful work.”

“Absolutely, girls,” Lottie reassured them. “Do not be concerned.”

“And if I have to share a room with one of you because I lose the house . . .” Sarah’s words snagged in her throat. The house. She didn’t want to lose the house. Her home. “Then that is what I will do. Trust me. Everything will be all right.”

“We know you’d sell the clothes off your back for us, Miss Sarah. We’ll never doubt you.” Minnie’s eyes glinted. “But when it comes to Mr. Cady, I promise I’m going to have choice words for him when he stops by today!”

Daniel turned onto Sansome Street, his frown chasing off a boot-black on the corner looking for some business. The reporter had left him in a foul mood. What was he after? That story about Josiah’s gold nuggets was becoming a bigger nuisance by the day. Already, a prowler had been poking around the house because of the rumor. Sarah could be in serious danger if Jackson insisted on spreading the tale.

I’m worried about her because she matters to me. I’ve let her get under my skin and matter to me . . .

Lost in thought, he almost collided with a young woman
standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Right across the street from Sarah’s custom design studio.

Daniel tapped the brim of his hat. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you standing there,” he said, peering at her familiar face.

“It’s all right.” Her long fingers clutched a ragged shawl around her neck, close under her chin. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Daniel finally recognized her. He should have right away because of the bruises. A fresh purple one, on her jaw right above the edge of her shawl, joined the fading yellow bruise he’d noticed yesterday. “Miss Cavendish, is it? Anne Cavendish?”