Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (8 page)

Noah pointed toward the man nearest the door. “Go get David. He needs to hear this.”

The messenger left at a run.

Jason shot a glance behind him, where Evie stood with a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder looking his way. “Look here, Hughes.” He spoke quietly. “I thought the natives in these parts were peaceable.”

“They are.” Captain Baker, who stood nearby with a coffee mug in his hand, inserted himself into the conversation. “I had a word with Captain Sterrett before he left, and he assures me there is no threat of conflict with the natives. Frankly, I’m surprised at your reaction. You people have lived practically side by side with them for years.”

Noah didn’t answer at first, his jaw working as he stared at the man. Then he nodded slowly. “That’s true enough. The Duwamish tribesmen are our friends and have been since we settled here. But Chief Seattle moved the bulk of his people to a reservation some time ago. A few stayed, but most left with him. These are new tribes coming in from the north, and they aren’t as tolerant of white settlers who’ve moved in and taken possession of what have traditionally been tribal lands.”

“Unhappy with the arrangements, perhaps, but not violent.” The captain’s posture straightened and he rocked back on his heels. “No doubt they’ll come to see reason after a while. In the meantime, we mustn’t be alarmists.”

Lawson rounded on the man. “You sayin’ the report about the fight over at Holmes Harbor is wrong? ’Cause I’ll bet there’s a widow lady in Alki who might have something to say about them folks not being violent.”

One of the millworkers spoke up. “We all know there’s a few Indians who’d just as soon kill us as look at us, but most of them are as friendly as you or me.”

The man standing next to him shook his head. “Maybe so, but it only takes a handful to start shooting. Before you know it we’ve got a war on our hands.”

A man in dingy red-striped suspenders rounded on him. “Why’d you have to mention war? That kind of talk is what’s causing folks around here to panic.”

The other’s fists clenched, and Jason noted that his was not the only reddened face in the circle. Obviously emotions on this topic ran high, as well they should. Given the reports in years past of the savage slaughter of westward-bound pioneers on wagon trails through the plains, people were prone to panic at the mere hint of conflict between red men and white.

A pair of men entered the restaurant followed closely by Noah’s messenger, whose breath came hard.

Noah’s tension visibly relaxed. “David, glad you could come so quickly. There’s been another attack.” He jerked a nod toward Lawson, who launched into his tale for the second time.

Jason studied the newcomer. David Denny, one of the founders of Seattle. Along with his older brother and a handful of others, this man had established the timber trade that attracted the attention of Henry Yesler, who then built the first steam mill in this part of the country. Since that time, Seattle had thrived and grown beyond anyone’s expectations. David was younger than Jason expected, probably not more than twenty-five or six, which would make him around ten years younger than Jason. But intelligence gleamed in the dark eyes that focused intently on Lawson.

When the man finished, David and Noah exchanged a loaded glance. Seeing it, Jason felt the stirrings of unease deep in his gut. He may not know them well, but his years managing crews of millworkers back East had taught him a thing or two about judging
men’s character. These two were no alarmists, no matter what the captain said. If they shared a concern about hostilities between white men and Indians, there was a valid reason for caution.

The heavy silence that descended on the men as they waited for David’s reply spoke of their high opinion of him. When he did speak, he looked around the group, his gaze connecting with as many as possible. Jason’s opinion of the man’s leadership rose another few notches. That the men looked up to him was obvious in the attention they afforded him.

“We can’t ignore this latest episode. We need to take steps to protect our families, our town.”

A snort of disgust sounded from someone, and several men left the group to return to their plates. The one wearing suspenders folded his arms across his chest with a jerk and fixed a glare on David.

“Of all the people in this town who’d give in to panic-stricken ravings, I never thought
you’d
be one, Denny. Why, you were friends with the Duwamish before anyone else.”

His tone fairly dripped scorn, so much that Jason had a hard time keeping his tongue silent. If that attitude were directed toward him, he would be hard-pressed to hold his temper. But he was new here, and his job at the mill would be to lead these men regardless of their opinions or attitudes. To start out by entering into a local conflict would be inviting trouble.

“I still am,” David answered in a level tone. “But I’ve told you before about Chief Seattle’s last words to me before he moved his tribe. Northern tribes like the Nisqually and Klickitats are angry at the loss of their lands. He told me point-blank that war is coming.”

The facts couldn’t be stated more clearly, as far as Jason was concerned. Several heads nodded, and Noah’s wasn’t the only face that grew solemn with the pronouncement. Unbelievably, others still scoffed openly.

Captain Baker set his coffee down on a nearby table, folded his arms across his chest, and rocked on his boot heels, his upper lip
curled. “They’ve received payment for their lands. The treaty at the Tulalip agency—”

Noah rounded on him, emotion giving his voice volume. “You mean the one where the Indians were given torn blankets, mouth harps, and a couple of barrels of blackstrap molasses?” He scowled. “Oh,
that
was fair trade for tribal lands that they’d lived and hunted on for centuries.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Why, Mr. Hughes, I had no idea you leaned toward the Indian cause.”

Noah drew himself up, eyes blazing. “I lean toward any cause that is righteous, and disdain unfair treatment of any man, white or red.”

In other circumstances, Jason would have applauded. Here was a man who could command his respect.

David laid a restraining hand on Noah’s arm. “Gentlemen, let’s keep our heads about us, shall we? The question of the fairness of the treaty is not our purpose this evening. We’re faced with far more pressing concerns.” His gaze became solemn. “Like keeping our women and children safe in the event of an attack on Seattle.”

A frigid chill settled over the captain’s smile. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to discuss the matter.” He crossed to the pegs on the wall to retrieve his coat. Digging in the pocket of his trousers, he extracted a few coins and tossed them on the table next to his abandoned mug. “Mrs. Hughes, thank you for a delicious meal, as always.”

Across the room, Evie still stood beside Kathryn’s chair. She nodded an acknowledgment, her expression gracious but strained. Kathryn’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, and her face was a pasty white, whether due to her fainting spell or the conversation, Jason didn’t know. When the captain left the room, a good third of the men followed, leaving their meals half-eaten.

When they had gone, David heaved a pent-up breath. His chest deflated and he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “That didn’t go well, did it?”

The man who had arrived with him agreed with a nod. “Could have been better.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Noah swept the room with an openhanded gesture. “At least now we know who’s in agreement with us.” His gaze fell on Jason. “Sorry you had to witness a conflict on your first night in our fair city. And I haven’t even introduced you. Jason Gates, meet David Denny and William Townsend. Jason is the new manager down at the mill.”

“Welcome.” David’s grip was firm, his smile slow but open. “I know Henry’s been looking forward to having you here.”

The other man was older by a couple of decades, his clean, dark hair liberally sprinkled with silver. He clasped Jason’s hand and searched his face with keen eyes. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I’m the daytime foreman.”

Jason kept rigid control of his expression, though his eyebrows nearly rose when the man identified himself. In his correspondence Yesler mentioned daytime and nighttime foremen, and Jason had wondered about them. Yesler had managed the mill himself since he built it four years before, and now that the operation was running smoothly, he wanted to devote himself to other pursuits. Why, then, hadn’t he made one of his foremen the new mill manager? More importantly, had either of them expected to step into the role? If so, he’d have a conflict on his hands before he even started work.

“Good to meet you, Townsend. I look forward to working with you.”

The eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing the sincerity of his words, and then he dipped his head.

“Oh, and another manager arrived today as well, or at least an assistant manager.” Noah’s tone became lighter as he turned and looked toward the ladies. “This is Miss Kathryn Bergert, who’s come to help with the management of the Faulkner House.”

Had Jason possessed fewer manners he would have snorted a laugh. The girl had plenty of nerve, he’d give her that.

Actually, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit a grudging respect. She’d managed to turn an unpleasant situation into one that sounded enviable. Unpleasant to her, at least. As far as he was concerned there was absolutely nothing wrong with plain hard work in any capacity. He fully intended to roll up his shirtsleeves and put in some long hours alongside the men he managed. But not everyone shared his opinion. If calling herself an assistant manager made her job more palatable, what was it to him?

A surprising change had come over Townsend’s features. What began as a pleasant enough glance across the room became a wide-eyed stare. He jerked upright, his lips parted, and his mouth gaped open. Jason followed his glance toward Kathryn. Did the two know each other? Judging by the polite inquiry in her expression, she didn’t seem aware of any prior acquaintance with the man.

“I—” Townsend took a backward step. “I must go. I have to—” He tore his gaze away, his mouth snapping shut and his throat constricting in a convulsive swallow. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gates.”

“Yes, in the morning.” Jason’s reply was directed toward the man’s back as he beat a hasty retreat through the door.

What curious behavior. An awkward silence settled over the room, with many glances cast toward Kathryn. She stared after him, eyebrows drawn together, looking as perplexed as everyone else.

Kathryn watched the man leave. What astoundingly bad manners, to leave that way in the middle of an introduction.

Noah shook his head. “I wonder what made him rush off like that?”

“No idea.” David shrugged, and then dismissed the matter by turning his back on the door. “We’ve got a decision to make. What are we going to do about this latest attack?”

Nods all around and mumbles of “That’s right,” and “We can’t ignore this one.”

This one?
They’d suffered previous Indian attacks, then? Startled, Kathryn glanced up at Evie, who still stood at her side, hand resting on her shoulder. She gave a comforting squeeze.

“Why don’t you all sit down?” Evie crossed the room, her long skirts swishing smoothly around her ankles, and placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Supper’s getting cold, and there’s nothing worse than cold dumplings. You can talk while you eat.”

The men returned to their plates. Noah and David made their way to the back table where Jason had been seated across from Captain Baker. Jason followed, and gave Kathryn a searching look as he slid into his chair.

A warm flush crept up her neck. How embarrassing to faint as though she were one of those ridiculous females whose behavior she had always found so annoying. They pretended a fragility they did not feel merely to appear weak and helpless before the men they hoped to entice. She had no patience for women like that.