Restless Hearts (8 page)

“Charlie!”

Charlie shot a frustrated glance at his wife. “She has to hear this, Lucy, if she’s going to make it on her own.”

Sarah watched the exchange with interest. Charlie turned back to her.

“But it’s also a rough town, Sarah. Especially at night. And on Sundays... a day you’d think might be a day of worship or rest, is anything but. Most of the men take the day off. They get drunk, and gamble, and...” his voice trailed off. “Well, they do what men do.”

“Boarding houses offer no privacy for a single woman. The rooms, if you can call them that, are small. The walls are made of canvas. Very little or no privacy.” His gaze held Sarah’s. “Definitely not a place for you.”

Sarah was aware of Charlie studying her as she absorbed this information. His words were disappointing, but she sensed that he had more to say.

“Pardon me for being indelicate, my dear, but do you have any money?”

Sarah looked to Lucy, who merely shrugged.

“Yes, I have a little over twenty thousand dollars.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty thousand. That puts us in an entirely different position.” He glared at his cigar, which had had the audacity to go out.

He re-lit the cigar, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “So,” he said eventually. “You might be in the market for a house of some sort.” He thought for a moment. “Did you think you might start a business? If so, then the location would make a difference.”

Sarah glanced at Lucy. “Tell him,” she urged.

“Well, yes. I thought I might try making Cornish pasties.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a meat pie, for lack of a better description.” She glanced at Lucy again. “They’re delicious, but what’s more important, a man can eat them out of his hand. They’re completely portable.”

A small smile played around Charlie’s lips. “Interesting. I don’t suppose you’d like a partner?” He caught his wife glaring at him. “Not that I think you’ll need one,” he muttered, serious again.

“I have the perfect place for you. The young man purchased it from me two months ago, in anticipation of his wife’s arrival, but she got cholera in one of the outbreaks on a wagon train. Killed her and her unborn child.” His eyes became suddenly bright and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “The young fellow was desperate to leave and go home. He said he’d take whatever I offered him, but I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of his misfortune, so I paid him what he paid me.” He paused to think for a moment. “Even so, it’s worth twice what I paid him.”

“Charlie Davis!” Lucy’s eyes flashed. “If it’s within Sarah’s budget, you’ll sell it to her for what you paid.”

“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise, my dear.”

Lucy settled down, reminding Sarah of a hen who had been disturbed on her nest.

Sarah turned back to Charlie. “The poor man. Do people often die of cholera on the way out?”

He nodded. “Too often. Even the groups who hire a doctor to travel with them sometimes lose people. It’s one of the dangers of the overland route, among others.”

“I had no idea.” She felt guilty taking advantage of someone else’s bad luck, but it sounded like the perfect solution to her housing dilemma. “You said he bought it in anticipation of his wife’s arrival. What were her plans?”

“Ah, yes. She was going to take in boarders, and since she was going to be cooking for them, she also planned to sell food. You’ll find a few women doing the same. The upstairs of this particular house has been divided into sleeping cubicles, and there’s also a small tent on the property where he lived while the house was being built. They planned to use it as an eating house, in addition to the inside dining room.”

“You’re right. It sounds perfect.” Sarah looked toward the window and was surprised to see that darkness had fallen. “When can I see it?”

“First thing tomorrow.”

Pale sunshine filtered tentatively through the clouds as Charlie drove them straight down Montgomery Street the next morning. “My office is in the next block,” he said, turning up Pacific Street, then left on Kearney, headed for the Plaza. “And this is Portsmouth Square.”

Sarah didn’t know where to look. The muddy plaza was bustling with people who all seemed to be going somewhere in a hurry. She could make out several foreign languages being spoken, and as she stared into the mass of humanity, she became aware of the variety of native dress on the men. The one constant seemed to be mud, and she gave silent thanks that she’d brought her boots.

“It’s a busy place,” she observed as Charlie guided his wagon carefully around the perimeter of the plaza.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, then turned to acknowledge a greeting from two prosperous-looking men. “It’s a bit wild yet, but it’s much better than when I arrived.”

Sarah and Lucy exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the plaza, the streets took on a semblance of order. Wooden buildings, some of dubious quality, sat side-by-side with tents. Based on what Charlie had told them, Sarah accepted that any private accommodation was preferable to the boarding houses.

Sarah recognized what she was already thinking of as her place when they were half a block away. A tent occupied the area close to the street, and a sturdy-looking house sat farther back on the lot.

“This is it,” said Charlie.

Sarah looked the property over from the safety of the wagon. Even here, the streets hadn’t dried after an overnight rain. “What street is this?” she asked.

“Sacramento Street,” he said, and pointed back toward the bay. “Your friend’s office is two and a half blocks in that direction.”

“My friend?” Sarah felt a blush creep up her neck. “Oh, you mean Jamie.”

“Right.” Charlie got down and offered his hand to Lucy, who had been surprisingly quiet. “Let’s go and I’ll show you around the inside.”

The house was well equipped. A large kitchen contained two cook stoves opposite a work table. Cooking utensils, plates, mugs, forks... everything she could anticipate that she might need. A large pantry had yet to be stocked, but it contained a surprisingly wide supply of spices and salt.

Sarah trailed her fingers over the spice containers and turned to Charlie. “It’s so well equipped. How could he possibly have bought all of this equipment here?”

Charlie shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, but I’ve heard of that many enterprising young people are buying equipment from stranded ships.” He sent a quick glance in the direction of the harbor. “Some of them have been torn apart for their lumber, and some have been dragged up onto land where they serve many purposes.”

Sarah nodded to herself. “I suppose someone might as well make use of these things.”

The upstairs had been divided into decent-sized cubicles; Sarah counted eight. “I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable taking in boarders, but the house solves both of my problems. Somewhere to live, and a business all in one location. I must say it’s perfect.” She looked to Lucy for agreement.

“Where will you sleep?” Ever practical, Lucy addressed what Sarah had been wondering.

“Oh.” Charlie strode through the kitchen and opened a door. “There’s a room here. It’s not large, but I think they were going to share it.” He rattled the handle. “Plus it locks.”

Sarah examined the space. A bed was shoved into a corner, flanked by a wash stand and a wardrobe. “It’s all I need,” she said, breathless now that the decision was at hand. “I’ll buy it.”

Charlie gave a brisk nod. “Good decision. Come, we’ll go to my office and sign the papers.”

* * *

“Congratulations, my dear.” Charlie handed her a surprisingly slim file of papers and a key. “You are now the proud owner of a home on Sacramento Street.”

Sarah looked at the papers without really seeing them. “I still feel badly about the circumstances, but someone was going to buy it if I didn’t, right?”

Charlie leaned back in his chair. “It would have been sold by the end of the day, I assure you.”

Sarah tucked the papers in her bag. “Then I’ve done the right thing.”

Charlie nodded. “This whole gold mining business is fraught with danger. Just last week, a young man had a terrible accident up on the American. He’d invested what remained of his money with a company that was building a flume. During construction, he was hit on the head with a timber, fell into the water and drowned.” Charlie shook his head. “That in itself isn’t so unusual, but this young fellow’s wife and daughter are due to arrive at any moment. And the wife is close to having another child.”

Apprehension clawed at Sarah’s gut. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again. “What was his name?”

“I don’t know. It really doesn’t...” Charlie looked from Sarah to his wife and the blood drained from his face. “You think she might have been on
WindSprite
?”

Sarah nodded. “She’s still there waiting for her husband to show up, as far as I know. Is there any way you can find out his name?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “I heard about it from young Angus, a reporter for
Alta California.
” He paused at the curious look on Sarah’ face. “That’s our newspaper.” He consulted his pocket watch and then snapped it closed. “He spends a lot of time at Parker House. He takes his meals there, and mingles with newcomers. Gets a lot of stories that way.” He pushed himself up from his desk. “I’ll walk over there right now, get the chap’s last name, and be right back.” He seemed eager to get away from the women. “Might as well find out,” he murmured to himself as he strode out the door.

He was gone before Sarah could recover. “Does he always move that quickly?” she asked, turning to her friend.

Lucy nodded, and a devilish smile curved her lips. “Looking back, it’s how he bowled me over the first time we met.” Her eyes lit up. “Speaking of bowling, did you see the sign for the bowling alley back there...” she twisted around, trying to get her bearings. “I forget which street we were on, but one of the public buildings had a sign advertising a bowling alley. How extraordinary.”

“A bowling alley.” Sarah gave her head a small shake. “A form of entertainment, I suppose, but I never would have imagined it.” She glanced around Charlie’s sparsely furnished office. “I have so much to learn about this place.” Her voice drifted off, and she faced what both of them had been avoiding. “Do you think it’s possible? Do you think it’s Anna’s husband?” She shuddered involuntarily.

“If so, I have no idea what the poor woman will do. Charlie said the young man in question put all his money into a fluming company.”

“What is that, anyway?” Sarah was grateful for the change of subject.

“It’s a process whereby they divert the water from a stream, or an area of a river, and mine the riverbed.” She gave a dismissive shake of her head. “According to what I’ve read in the paper, none of them have been successful so far. But I can understand the men wanting to try anything. Charlie says that some of them are simply gripped by gold fever and refuse to acknowledge that the big strikes are a thing of the past.” She walked around her husband’s desk, tidying piles of papers. “But for some of them, it’s pride. They can’t bring themselves to go home without having made their “pile”, as they refer to it, so they put all their money into these companies in one final act of desperation. It’s sad, really.”

Sarah considered Lucy’s words. “If it is him, I wonder if there’s any chance of getting his money back?”

Lucy shrugged. “Not if the money has been spent. But let’s wait to see what Charlie has to say.”

At that moment, Charlie entered the outer office, muttering to himself.

Lucy stood. “What is it?”

“Damned mud.” Charlie looked down at his boots, which were coated in mud up to the laces. “Sorry, my dear, but when this winter’s over, we really have to do something about the streets.”

Sarah had risen to stand beside Lucy. Charlie couldn’t bring himself to look directly at either of them.

“His name was Walter Taylor, and his wife was on
WindSprite,
” he said at last. “Anna Taylor.”

Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

“You’re sure?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a photograph. “He had very few possessions, but this was among them.” He showed the picture to the women.

“That’s Anna and Melissa,” confirmed Lucy with a sad smile. She looked from Sarah to her husband. “Someone has to go out to the ship and tell her.”

Charlie cleared his throat.

Lucy touched him on the arm. “I didn’t mean you, my dear.” She returned her attention to Sarah. “It should be one, or both of us.”

Sarah steadied herself on the edge of Charlie’s desk and then sat back down, her mind whirling. “I’ll do it,” she said after a moment, and looked to Charlie. “I know this is asking a lot, but could you arrange for someone to unload Anna’s trunks from the ship and bring them to my place?”

“Yes, of course.” He scurried from the room.

“Sarah, you can’t take on such a responsibility.” The horrified look on Lucy’s face was soon replaced by grudging acceptance. “Foolish of me to say that; of course you’re going to help her. Just make sure you call on me when you need another pair of hands.” She rose to follow her husband.

“How about right now?” Sarah tried to lighten her request with a smile. “While I’m getting Anna and Melissa from the ship, I was wondering if you would mind getting something ready for supper. Anna probably won’t feel like eating tonight, but she has Melissa to consider, not to mention her unborn child. Something like a bowl of soup would be good.”

“Of course, and I’ll bring your personal belongings as well, but...” Lucy’s voice trailed off. “Are you sure about delivering the news?”

Sarah nodded, more to convince herself than anything. “Yes, I am.” As though to confirm her words, Charlie came back into the room. “I have someone outside right now, if you’re ready to go.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” Sarah gave Lucy a quick hug. “See you later, my friend.”

* * *

Charlie handed Sarah up onto the seat of the wagon. “Eduardo here will take you down to the docks. He works for a group that specializes in unloading passengers and freight from incoming ships, so they’ll row you out to
WindSprite
, and collect you when you give them the signal.”

“Signal?”

“Probably a piece of colored cloth. You’ll be asked to tie it to the rail when you’re ready to come back.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “They’re quite reliable, so don’t worry.” He backed onto the wooden planks in front of his office building. “Let me know if I can be of further help.”

The driver didn’t speak on the short drive to the dock, but glanced at her several times. Sarah knew that a woman alone was probably an unusual sight, but she was too concerned with what she would say to Anna to think much about it.

“Here,” the man said, stopping abruptly by the pier. Sarah looked out at the jumble of masts in the harbour and wondered how they would ever find Captain Johnson’s ship. But the Chileans who owned and worked for the company seemed to know every vessel that was jammed into the harbor, and within a few minutes a different man was transporting her across the water with long, sure strokes of the oars.

Sarah’s nervousness grew as they drew closer to the ship. She scanned the deck, hoping that Anna wasn’t outside. She had no idea what she was going to say to the other woman, and was worried that the shock might send her into premature labor.

A large lighter was busy unloading cargo near the bow of the ship, so they tied up near the rope ladder toward the stern. The man handed her a bright red piece of cotton and mimed tying it on the railing. Sarah nodded, tucked it in her bag and started to climb.

Breathless but triumphant, she stood on the deck and looked around. The ship was silent, except for the unloading by the forward hatches, and she wondered if she should look for the captain first.

“Sarah!” Melissa ran up the companionway and threw herself at Sarah’s skirts. “You came to visit!” Her bright eyes looked toward the land, barely visible between the moored ships. “We’re waiting for my Daddy. Have you seen him?”

Tears filled Sarah’s eyes and she turned away to see Anna’s head and shoulders as she, too, came on deck. She observed the reunion with a gentle smile, one hand resting on her stomach. But then, as Sarah watched, the light faded from Anna’s eyes, and the contented happiness that had illuminated her face a moment before was replaced by uncertainty, then outright fear.

“Missy, go to the cabin, please.”

“Mommy!” The child wailed.

“Melissa.” Sarah gave her a gentle pat on the top of the head. “Do as your mother says.”

Sensing the tension in the air, the child’s lower lip trembled, but she did as she was told.

Anna took a few tentative steps forward. “Sarah?” Even as her gaze met Sarah’s she was shaking her head slowly back and forth. “No,” she said, continuing to shake her head. “Not my Walter.”