Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (32 page)

Why would the mention of her piano lessons result in such a harsh and random pronouncement? They weren’t even speaking of marriage. Or of art, which would bring his wife to mind.

Unless Beth also played the piano.

If that were the case, then he must suspect her of trying to imitate his deceased wife in order to win his affections. An uncomfortable flush began at the crown of her head and washed down her body,
despite the chilly air. That meant he suspected her feelings and wanted to set her straight in no uncertain terms.

Perhaps going home to San Francisco was her best course of action after all. That way she would be spared the daily agony of seeing the man she loved and knowing he would never love her in return.

Tuesday, January 22, 1856

Now that the major part of the work on the blockhouse had been completed, Noah resumed his duties at the restaurant. Without painting or sandwich making to occupy her time, Kathryn threw herself into practicing the finger exercises Helen showed her. That is, until Madame stomped out of her sitting room complaining about the racket and forbidding her to touch the piano again.

“And I didn’t pay all that money to ship this thing here to have hymns played on it, either,” the rotund woman told Helen with a pointed stare before slamming the door in their faces.

With Jason’s heated response from the previous night still echoing in her mind, Kathryn glumly informed Helen that she had lost the desire to learn anyway. Together they left the hotel and braved a cold Seattle drizzle to pass the time in Evie’s cheery company.

Noah greeted them warmly. “Kathryn, just the lady I wanted to see.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the storeroom doorway, where Evie could be heard humming a lullaby, and went on in a near-whisper. “Do you think you could see your way clear to continuing to help my wife, at least with supper? Now that the fortress is finished, I need to get started on our home. With the baby coming, I don’t want her climbing up and down that ladder anymore.”

Kathryn agreed with a relieved sigh. “Of course I will.” The prospect of long days with nothing to occupy her time—on top of a dwindling bankroll if she had to start paying for her meals—had weighed on her during the night.

“Thank you. Having you here makes her happy. She’s grown fond of you.”

She returned his warm smile. “And I’ve grown fond of her too.”

Moving with the ease of familiarity, Kathryn fetched the beautiful ivy teapot from the shelf, filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, and set the sugar bowl on the table where Helen had taken a seat. Worry over the loss of her job was not the only thing that had robbed her of sleep during the night. Jason’s stern announcement played over and over in her head. Why did it fall to her to develop feelings for a man so twisted with grief that he could never return her love?

The water had just begun to steam when the restaurant door opened and a familiar figure ran inside. John William paused barely a second to glance around, and then shot across the room to embrace her with his trademark enthusiastic hug.

“John William, what are you doing here?” Fighting to control her alarm, she glanced toward the door as the little boy awarded a second hug, this time on the surprised Helen. Was the child in the company of his grandfather?

Instead, the sedate figure of Princess Angeline filled the doorway. She stood with her arms folded, the same multicolored shawl draped around her shoulders, and scanned the room with an unreadable expression. Rain had plastered her hair to her head and soaked her clothing.

Evie and Noah emerged from the storeroom. “Princess Angeline, what a surprise.” Evie gestured her inside with a wave. “Please sit down. Would you like tea?”

The lady shook her head. “I bring a request from my people.”

“What do you need?” Noah asked.

“Shelter. Their camps are no longer safe. An army of warriors gathers, and there have been threats against those who refuse to fight our white friends.”

John William returned to Kathryn’s side and slipped an arm around her legs. “There are a lot of new people in Princess Angeline’s house.” His childish voice trembled, and Kathryn placed a calming hand on his back to pull him closer. “They left their beds at home so they had to sleep outside last night.”

“In the rain?” Compassionate tears flooded Evie’s eyes.

The Indian princess dipped her head.

Noah scrubbed at his chin. “How many people are we talking about?”

In answer, the woman stepped aside and gestured behind her. Kathryn joined Evie and the others to peek out the doorway. Gathered around the totem pole were twenty-five or maybe thirty women, children, and babies. Kathryn’s heart twisted at the sight of the little ones shivering in the rain.

“Oh, my.” Evie glanced around the dining room. “I suppose they could stay here. We’d have to move the tables outside.”

“I have a better idea.” Kathryn glanced at Helen, whose eyes widened.

“She’ll never agree,” the woman whispered.

Kathryn folded her arms across her chest with a determined jerk. “We’ll
force
her.”

“Absolutely not!”

Madame Garritson drew herself up to her full height, the flesh in her jaws quivering with outrage. “This is a hotel, not a doss-house for indigent Indians.”

Kathryn topped her height by several inches, and made use of
the discrepancy to glower down at the woman. “They are not indigent. They are temporarily displaced.”

“Well, let them be placed elsewhere. I don’t have a spare bed in the whole house, as you well know since you make them up every day.”

“You can move the extra bed back into my room,” Helen ventured. “If it will keep children out of the rain—”

“I will do no such thing. You paid for private accommodations and that’s what you’ll get.” Madame’s glower silenced the timid woman.

“Actually, I’m not suggesting you house them upstairs.” Kathryn glanced around the Faulkner House’s front room, empty but for the writing desk and the piano against the far wall. “I’m sure the ladies of Seattle can come up with extra blankets and the like. It would be tight in here, but I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“
They
won’t mind?” Madame’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared beneath her wiry hair. “I mind. And how long will they stay? Answer me that!”

“It’s women and children, Madame. Their men say they will stay elsewhere, but we can’t leave the young ones with no place to go. It’s only until the threat of war is over.”

“A war that may never come, according to some.” The woman stalked across the room, flinging her arms wide to encompass the cavernous space. “Which means they might stay forever. What would it look like, letting a bunch of renegade Indians move into the front room of the Faulkner House?”

Kathryn stared at the woman, incredulous. “It will look like you have compassion on women and children who are even now shivering in the cold rain.”

Helen broke into their heated exchange with a quiet clearing of her throat. “If I might venture a question, I wonder how Captain Faulkner would answer the request.” Madame gave her a sharp look, and she went on with a timorous smile. “I did make some inquiries
before selecting Seattle, and my decision to come here was largely due to Captain Faulkner’s reputation as a fair and honest gentleman of impeccable character. I was told he viewed this hotel venture not merely as a business pursuit, but hopes to make Seattle his home at some point in the future. I was also told he established strong relationships with the local Indians, whom he regarded as friends.”

She lowered her eyes demurely, but not before exchanging a quiet grin with Kathryn.

“That’s an excellent question, Helen.” Kathryn turned a piercing stare on Madame. “Perhaps we should write to Captain Faulkner and prevail upon his sense of
humanity
.” She emphasized the word, as though to imply that Madame had none. “Of course, in the time it takes a letter to reach him and send a reply, some of those poor, freezing children may die of exposure. I’d hate to have to report that to him.”

Madame’s considerable bosom gave an indignant heave. “Well. It appears the decision is made. See that they’re quiet and don’t disturb the paying guests.” She turned to stalk away with one final instruction. “And don’t let the children touch that piano.”

When she had gone Kathryn and Helen exchanged a triumphant smile. A minor battle won. Hopefully that portended well for winning the war.

Fifteen

A
scream pulled Kathryn from a fitful sleep. She sat up in bed and strained to listen over the loud thudding of her heart. Then a clamor erupted beyond the wall at the foot of her bed—the shrieks of women and cries of children.

Her door flew open with a crash and Madame stood silhouetted in the doorway, hair gyrating wildly about her head. “It’s happening! We’re under attack!”

The panic in the woman’s voice whipped Kathryn’s blood to a gallop. Then she was gone.

The children!

Kathryn leaped out of bed and scooped up her heavy cloak on her way through the door. She barely noted that Madame’s room was empty and the back door stood open. Instead of following, she dashed in the opposite direction, toward the front room.

She opened the door to pandemonium. Terrified screams filled her ears as women and children struggled to shed themselves of borrowed blankets and vacate the crowded room. Footsteps pounded on the stairs as guests raced down.

“To the blockhouse,” shouted a familiar voice. “Run!”

She spied Jason across the tumult, his arms waving people toward
the front door as if he were shooing chickens. Moving like a mob, they poured through the doorway and into the pitch black outside.

In the center of the room stood a frightened native girl wearing a sleeveless cotton dress, sobbing in fright. People swarmed around her, desperate to escape. Kathryn scooped the child up on her way out.

“Hold on tight,” she shouted above the chaos. Did the child even speak English? Apparently so, because thin arms clutched her neck and trembling legs wrapped around her waist. Pulling her cloak over the girl’s body, Kathryn joined a stream of people who raced down the street for the safety of the fortress.

An Indian woman carrying a baby in one arm and a toddler in the other ran over to her side. She babbled something in her own language and nodded toward the girl, whose face was pressed against Kathryn’s chest. The child’s mother?

“I’ve got her,” Kathryn shouted. The woman dipped her head repeatedly, matching her step for step as their dash to safety continued.

The muscles in Kathryn’s arms screamed from the unaccustomed weight as they ran up the knoll. The door of the blockhouse stood open, and a cluster of men had stationed themselves on either side, hurrying people inside. She recognized David as she ran through.