Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (21 page)

When the tension stretched to a nearly unbearable level, Evie stood and spoke in a bright voice. “I believe I’ll have another slice of bread with some of that delicious blackberry jam. Who made that?”

“I did,” answered Letitia, hefting herself out of her chair and snatching up her plate. “And I believe I’ll join you.”

Mrs. Butler and Louisa both turned back around and Kathryn released a pent-up breath. She exchanged a glance with Helen, who had watched the near-argument with wide-eyed alarm.

Louisa lifted her teacup and spoke in a low voice to Kathryn over the rim. “I truly hope they’re right.”

Kathryn leaned over her plate and whispered an answer. “And if they aren’t, I hope they live long enough for you to point out their mistake.”

At that Louisa giggled, and the last of the tension fled.

Nine

Tuesday, January 15, 1856

K
athryn! A moment before you leave.”

Kathryn stopped in the center of the hotel’s empty front room and waited for Madame to appear through the doorway to her private area.

Madame waddled in carrying a bundle. “I need you to take this laundry down to Princess Angeline.”

“Princess?” Astonished, Kathryn could only stare at the woman. “Seattle has a princess?”

In the week since her arrival, no one had mentioned the presence of royalty. Surely someone would have. And would the lady not have come to tea last Thursday night?

Madame emitted the raucous cackle that had ceased to grate on Kathryn’s nerves and now caused only mild annoyance. “In a way. She’s the old Indian chief’s daughter. Earns money as a laundress.” She thrust the bundle, which Kathryn saw was a bedsheet gathered around a mound of clothing, into her arms. “Tell her to have someone bring it up tomorrow when it’s finished.”

Kathryn tried to push it back. “But I’m due next door to deliver sandwiches to the men working on the blockhouse.”

Madame whisked her hands behind her back. “I know that. Princess Angeline’s house is not far from there, down on the waterfront. It won’t take you a minute to drop by after you’re finished serving.”

“I don’t know the way.” A whine crept into her voice, though she deplored the sound of it. “And Louisa isn’t going with me this evening. I’ll be alone.”

“So ask someone. Everyone knows Princess Angeline.” The woman turned her physically around and gave her a shove toward the door.

“But…”

Further protests would be a waste of breath. Madame had made good her retreat and closed the door to her sitting room behind her. Settling the laundry into a sturdier bundle, Kathryn headed next door. Perhaps in Evie she would find a sympathetic ear, and possibly a companion to show her the way.

She was mistaken.

“Oh, Princess Angeline’s cabin is easy to find.” The cheerful restaurant owner didn’t pause in her task of loading a crate of sandwiches onto the back of the wagon, which was hitched and ready. “Just go down the hill and when you get to the pier, turn right. Hers is the first house on the left past the dock.”

“Is it…safe?”

Evie gave her a quizzical look, which cleared after a moment. “Perfectly safe. You won’t go anywhere near the forest.” A smile settled on her face, no doubt intended to be reassuring. “Only you may want to leave the wagon by the pier and walk. The ground down by the water tends to be too muddy for a heavy wagon during the rainy season.” Then she bustled back inside the restaurant for another load of sandwiches.

Still uneasy, Kathryn stowed Madame’s laundry on the front bench. If only Louisa had not felt so tired after the tea. And if only Kathryn had not felt so confident in her ability to deliver the sandwiches on her own that she urged her to go home to put her swollen feet up.

Thanks to the assistance of many of the ladies who stayed after the tea to help assemble sandwiches, she got an early start. With a jaunty
wave that projected more confidence than she felt, she climbed up onto the wagon and picked up the reins. Though a handful of men, like David and Noah, had been working at the blockhouse all day, the bulk of the evening workers would not yet have left the lumber mill, which meant she had some extra time. Might as well get the unpleasant task out of the way first. She directed the horse toward the main road leading to the wharf and flicked the reins.

The sun had been out all day, and though lower, still dominated the western sky. As she headed down the hill, she scanned the town below her. The avenue down which she traveled was the same one Carter had taken when he delivered her, Helen, and Jason to the Faulkner House. Had that really only been a week ago? She shook her head, chuckling to herself. Seemed like months.

She followed the length of the road with her eyes to the place where it ended at the wharf. Another road, narrower than this one, ran along the front of the dock to Yesler’s Mill on the left, and to the right…

Ah, there. She sat straighter on the bench and stretched her sight in that direction. The wooden platform of the dock ended, and then there was a long empty stretch and, beyond that, a line of small, square, steep-roofed houses perched on the waterfront. Shacks, really. That first one must be Princess Angeline’s.

Imagine, a princess living in a shack and working as a laundress. Actually, now that she gave it some thought, Kathryn found the idea admirable. Presumably the daughter of a chief would enjoy some measure of status had she moved to the reservation with her father’s people. Instead she chose to live here among white settlers and earn her own living. A woman like that was to be commended for her independence, something Kathryn had found more of in Seattle than she anticipated.

Movement around the house in question drew her attention. She squinted to focus across the distance. Children, if she weren’t mistaken, running after one another around the building. A cheerful
stream of white smoke rose from the chimney, creating a homey appearance. A few knots in her stomach unraveled, and Kathryn flicked the reins to prod the horse forward.

When she rolled through town, she again drew attention from those inside the buildings lining the wide street. Though the men stared with that same hungry intensity they displayed upon her arrival, she must be growing accustomed to it. She even recognized several of them from the restaurant, and nodded a greeting here and there.

At the end of the street she turned and traveled for a distance with the wharf on her left. No ship sat at the pier, but the
Decatur
was still anchored nearby in the bay. Whistles and a few shouts reached her, and she saw that the ship’s deck was lined with Marines in military uniforms, all of them staring at her. Feeling a bit less confident where sailors were concerned, she lifted a hand and gave them a hesitant wave, and then schooled her eyes forward.

When the wooden dock ended abruptly, she drew the horse to a halt. The first of the little huts lay about seventy-five yards in front of her, the road a barren path stretching between them. The idea of leaving the wagon and covering the distance on foot was not appealing. The ground, though moist enough to muddy her boots, seemed solid. It had not rained all day, and the sun had probably hardened the ground enough to handle the weight of the wagon. She flicked the reins and urged the horse forward.

When she drew near, she saw that she had been correct in thinking of Angeline’s home as a shack. This dwelling could be called a cabin only by the loosest definition of the word. Constructed of split cedar with the cracks filled by what appeared to be crumbling mud, it leaned noticeably to one side. There was no porch and a rough block of wood had been set before the open door in place of a proper stair. On the right a collection of barrels and old lumber, apparently left over from the construction, had been tossed into a haphazard
pile. A pungent odor dominated the air, an unlikely blend of rotting fish and lye that set Kathryn to coughing.

She halted her wagon and sat staring at the open doorway. Someone was sitting inside. Surely decorum dictated that the woman come outside to greet her visitor, but she made no move. After a moment’s hesitation, Kathryn climbed down from the bench and then gathered Madame’s bundle. Though she had not heard a sound, when she turned around an Indian woman stood behind her, arms folded and hands hidden beneath a multicolored shawl that appeared to have been made for someone twice her size.

“Oh!” Kathryn jumped back and bumped against the sideboard. She emitted a nervous laugh. “You startled me.”

The face before her did not change in the slightest. Eyes as dark as midnight fixed on her calmly. A wide nose spread across above thin lips with a distinct downward turn at the edges, giving her a grim countenance. Her dark skin had a weathered look that defied age, and her brow held traces of what promised to become heavy creases later in life. Her hair was black without a hint of silver, and she wore it parted in the center and pulled partially back in an untidy arrangement that left the ends to straggle across her shoulders.

Kathryn swallowed. “P—Princess Angeline?”

Though the woman before her looked nothing like anyone’s idea of royalty, she held herself with an easy regal bearing that gave Kathryn the urge to drop into a formal curtsy. She controlled the impulse, but when the Indian lady dipped her head, she managed a composed nod in return.

“My name is Kathryn Bergert. I recently arrived from San Francisco.”

“I know who you are.” The voice, unexpectedly low, was heavily accented but each word was precisely articulated.

“You do?”

Again the regal dip of her head. “Not so big a place, this town.”

“Well, yes.” Kathryn glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the town. “I suppose news of newcomers spreads rather quickly.”

“Especially white lady newcomers.” For the first time, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of those thin, solemn lips. One hand emerged from within the folds of the shawl and gestured toward the bundle in Kathryn’s hands. “For me?”

“Oh.” She had momentarily forgotten her errand. “Yes, of course. Madame Garritson instructed me to bring her laundry, and asked if you could have someone deliver it tomorrow to the Faulkner House.”

Again the stately incline of her head, and she waved toward the shack. Kathryn assumed she was being instructed to put the laundry inside. Moving with quick, awkward steps, she did so, though she did not enter the dwelling but merely extended her hand inside to deposit the bundle near the door. The quick glimpse she took of the interior showed a single room, sparsely furnished but tidy and clean.

She turned to find the woman watching her with that same unreadable, impassive expression. Was she expected to deliver the laundry and leave, or would that be considered impolite? This was, after all, the daughter of a chief.

“Angeline,” she said after casting around for something to say. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“
Princess
Angeline,” the woman corrected.

“Of course.” Kathryn cleared her throat. Should she call her by a title? Were Indian princesses addressed as
Your Highness,
as English ones were? “I’m sorry, um…Princess.”

A twinkle appeared in the black eyes. “That is my white man’s name given by my friend Letitia.”

“Letitia Coffinger?” Kathryn asked, surprised when the woman nodded. “Then what is your, ur, your Indian name?”

“
Duwamish
name,” she corrected gently. “To my people I am known as Kikisoblu, daughter of Sealth. Letitia Coffinger did not think it a name that suited me.”

Actually, she looked far more like a Kikisoblu than an Angeline,
but Kathryn kept the opinion to herself. Something about this lady’s tranquil manner and barely revealed humor put her at ease, and she risked a hesitant smile into the broad face. “Both names are lovely.”

A string of children, their laughter filling the air, came charging around the house. Catching sight of her, they screeched to a halt a few feet away and fell silent. Perhaps a dozen children stared at her with open curiosity. Kathryn gave them a hesitant smile, and then a smaller one pushed through from behind. She saw a flash of white skin and blond hair, and in the next instant the child dashed forward and threw himself around her skirt, hugging her knees with enthusiasm.

“Miss Kathryn! Did you come to play with me?”

“Why, hello there.” Surprised, she bent down to return John William’s embrace. “I didn’t know you were here or I would have made a special point to come and play with you. I’m afraid I don’t have time right now.”

So this was where Will Townsend had been taking his grandson. She glanced up to give Princess Angeline an inquisitive look, but found no answers in her face.