The Claim (18 page)

“Hello, Mr. Russell,” I said.

His beard seemed to have gone gray overnight, and his face was thinner than when I’d last seen him. He had taken the death of M’Carty very hard, I knew.

“Are you well, Mr. Russell?” I asked hesitantly.

He spit a wad of tobacco. “Why wouldn’t I be, gal?”

“It’s just that you were—I mean—that M’Carty was—your best friend here on the bay,” I stammered.

His hands froze and his face went still in a mask of grief.

“That he was, gal,” he said, his voice hollow. “But I can’t bring him back. Nobody can. It’s just best to keep on going. It’s really the only thing to do.”

“Oh, Mr. Russell,” I said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He shook it off. “Shouldn’t ya be at the hotel, gal?”

“Actually,” I said, “I thought I’d tidy up the cabin, if that’s all right with you.”

He shrugged. “Suit yerself, gal.”

I spent the rest of the day cleaning Mr. Russell’s cabin and making him a proper meal. He appeared to have been living on some particularly old and rotten-looking venison and onions. After he had cleaned his plate and was sitting in front of the roaring fire, pipe in hand, I broached the subject of Katy with him. His expression didn’t alter as he stared into the fire.

“So what should we do?” I asked when I was finished.

Mr. Russell simply stared into the fire, his expression morose.

“What’s the point, gal?” he muttered, his voice tired.

“But they’re mistreating her!” I shouted. “It’s intolerable!”

“I can’t do anything by myself, gal,” Mr. Russell said. “Baldt’s in charge now. His word’s law round here.”

I knelt in front of him, holding his hands. “Things are changing, yes. But we mustn’t give up hope. Not yet.”

“I’m an old man, Jane, and I’m tired. I jest want to go and find somewhere quiet to live out the rest of my days. It’s getting a bit too busy around here for my taste. Think I need a change.”

“Not you, too!” I exclaimed.

“What do ya mean, gal?”

“Mr. Swan’s leaving!”

“He’s a smart fellow to get out while the gettin’s good,” Mr. Russell said.

“Am I speaking to the same man who assured me I had nothing to fear from William?”

But Mr. Russell didn’t respond. He just stared into the fire.

Supper at the hotel that evening was unbearable.

I deliberately did not sit at the head table, preferring the company of a group of scarcely washed oystermen to that of Sally and her parents.

“Evening, Your Honor,” someone said.

I looked up to see William stride through the door, circulating around the room like royalty.

Mr. Russell’s words rang in my ears.

Baldt’s in charge now. His word’s law round here.

And I knew that Mr. Russell was right after all.

  The drizzly rain that greeted me the next morning washed away any lingering reservations I had about what I must do.

As I walked down Front Street and saw Mrs. Woodley’s girls playing happily in the mud of the road, my resolve grew stronger. When I finally reached the Dodds’ cabin, I stood on the porch for a long moment. From inside came the clear sound of Mrs. Dodd berating Katy.

“You stupid child!” she shouted. “What’d I tell you about not letting the iron rest too long!”

This was followed by a loud slap. I knocked firmly on the door.

“Who is it?” Mrs. Dodd demanded.

“Miss Jane Peck,” I called.

The door flew open.

“My man dropped the laundry off yesterday,” Mrs. Dodd said.

“Actually,” I said, pressing forward, “I believe you forgot to return something to us.”

She flushed and her face scrunched up. “If it’s that glove you’re talking about, I told you I ain’t got it.”

But I ignored her and walked straight into the appalling little cabin. Her husband was nowhere in sight. Thank heavens.

Katy saw me and her eyes lit up. I gave her a quick smile of reassurance.

Mrs. Dodd blustered, “Now, see here, you can’t just go walking into my house—”

Before she could finish her sentence, I claimed Katy in an easy swoop. The little girl clung onto me as if for dear life.

“Hey!” Mrs. Dodd shouted, regaining her anger. “You can’t take her. The judge gave ’er to me!”

“Not anymore,” I said.

“You can’t do this!”

“Watch me.” I paused in the doorway and turned back. Katy’s arms tightened around my neck. “And by the way,” I said, “we shan’t be requiring your services any longer.”

As I strode down the street, Mrs. Dodd chased after me, shouting, “She’s giving Katy back to her Injun mother! Stop her!”

I didn’t break my stride but kept moving down the walkway. People opened the doors of their cabins to see what the
commotion was all about, and oystermen stopped in the street, setting down their baskets. Red Charley hopped off his barrel and walked toward me.

Mrs. Dodd flew past me down the muddy street to Star’s, hollering, “Judge! Judge Baldt!”

The door to Star’s opened and William walked out, followed by a small crowd including Mr. and Mrs. Staroselsky, Mrs. Woodley, and Mrs. Hosmer.

“What seems to be the problem?” William asked.

“She’s taking the girl!” Mrs. Dodd shouted at my hack.

“Miss Peck!” William called in an authoritative voice, and I froze and turned to face him. “Before I have you arrested for kidnapping, may I ask: What exactly are you doing?”

Katy eyed the gathering crowd fearfully. “Run, Boston Jane!” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” I whispered back. I looked at William. “I’m taking Katy home!” I said in a defiant voice.

“See!” Mrs. Dodd shrieked.

“Miss Peck,” William said. “Why do you insist on defying me at every turn? By now you surely must have learned that you can’t possibly win.”

Mrs. Dodd pressed her case. “She’s mine, Yer Honor. You gave ’er to me!”

William shook his head in irritation and snapped to Red Charley, “Constable, give the child back to Mrs. Dodd.”

Red Charley stepped forward, a little apologetically. “Sorry, Miss Peck, but I am the constable now.”

I held up a warning hand and he hesitated.

“Dr. Baldt, you specifically said that Katy was to be given to the care ‘of a lady.’ ”

William’s eyes narrowed, but he gave a short nod of his head.

“To a
lady
,” I said. “And you, Mrs. Dodd, are no kind of lady.”

Mrs. Dodd became enraged. “How dare you—”

“I do dare,” I said, advancing on Mrs. Dodd. “A lady would never do this to a child.” And I pushed up one of Katy’s sleeves.

A collective gasp went through the crowd at the sight of the livid bruise on Katy’s arm. Mrs. Woodley put her hand over her mouth and tugged her daughters close. Mrs. Staroselsky cradled Rose tight to her bosom. Even Mrs. Hosmer went a little pale.

“The girl wouldn’t mind me,” Mrs. Dodd said quickly. “You can’t let her do this!”

I stared at William. “You are the judge, Dr. Baldt. If your intention was to give Katy a good home, then I can assure you that I have one. I am quite prepared to raise her.”

William looked uneasily at the crowd that was now regarding Mrs. Dodd as if she were a bug. I had won!

Then William cleared his throat. “Miss Peck. You are an unmarried girl. You are not a suitable mother for the child.”

My heart sank. Katy’s arms clutched me even tighter.

“But I am,” a voice rang clearly from the back of the crowd.

Mrs. Frink stood there, a look of calm composure on her face, her husband a step behind.

“I am a married lady, and I am more than willing to take Katy in. Do you have any objections to me, Dr. Baldt?” she asked with just a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

William hesitated a moment too long.

“What you got against Mrs. Frink?” one of the men shouted angrily.

“Yeah, Baldt,” another one hollered.

Even Red Charley seemed to eye William suspiciously.

The crowd began to rumble, and William’s mouth tightened.

“I would be most delighted if Mrs. Frink took in the child,” William announced.

“That’s more like it,” Red Charley said.

Mrs. Frink met my eyes and smiled.

She was, as I had always known, a true lady.

On the third day
of July all of Shoalwater Bay was busy with preparations for the next day’s celebration, and the staff of the hotel was in full swing.

Spaark, Millie, Mrs. Frink, and I gathered early and worked hard all day. Even Willard showed up on time for once and did as he was told. It seemed that I was his hero now that I had stood up to Mrs. Dodd, and it was all he talked about as he peeled his potatoes.

“You should’ve seen the look on that mean old Dodd’s face when Miss Jane got Katy!” he said, describing the scene in detail again and again.

Mrs. Frink had given Cocumb a permanent room at the hotel so that mother and daughter could be together until the fuss with Mrs. Dodd died down. Cocumb wasn’t as upset about moving out of the cabin as I had thought she would be.

“It was getting lonely in that cabin all by myself,” Cocumb admitted.

The festivities were to be held in the downstairs of the hotel.
As promised, Sally had given official invitations to Willard, to be hand-delivered several days before.

I had not received one.

As we were short staffed, I lent a hand with the cleaning. I dusted and swept clumps of mud that crisscrossed the carpet in spite of the boot scraper at the entrance. As I straightened up the settee in the parlor, I came upon a small book wedged beneath a pillow. I recognized it at once.

It was Sally’s copy of
The Young Lady’s Confidante
, our textbook from the Young Ladies Academy.

I idly flipped through the chapters: Conversation, Deportment at the Dinner Table, Receiving and Returning Calls, Pouring Tea and Coffee, and lastly, Being a Good Guest. Clearly Sally had never paid much attention to that chapter.

And then from among the pages of the chapter entitled The Great Mistake, a folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and unfolded it. The penmanship was Sally’s distinctive swirling hand.

I stood there staring at the rest of the letter, her cruel words lingering in my mind.

After a moment I started to put the hateful letter back between the pages of the book … and then hesitated. I walked over to Mrs. Frink’s desk and slipped it between the pages of her ledger.

Later that afternoon Sally came wandering downstairs, her eyes scanning the room.

“Are you looking for this?” I asked in an innocent voice. I held the book out to her.

She hesitated and then snatched it from me.

“Where did you find it?” she snapped. “I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

“It slipped behind a pillow.”

“Oh,” she said, and then leafed through the book, her face growing more anxious. Finally, in what looked like desperation, she turned the book upside down and shook it.

“Are you missing something?” I asked.

“Uh, no,” she said uneasily, and walked away.

Later that night, after supper, I was alone in the kitchen experimenting with a new receipt for oysters when the back door opened, and I looked up to see Mr. Russell standing there.

“Gal,” he said, tipping his hat and spitting in the same instant. He held out a tin bucket.

It was full of fresh-picked strawberries.

“Figured you could make one of them pies of yours with ’em,” he said, pulling up a bench.

“Thank you, Mr. Russell,” I said. “Would you care for some coffee?”

He nodded and I poured him a cup, adding the milk and sugar I knew he favored. The mountain man took a long sip and cracked a smile at me.

“Sure is better than that first coffee you made,” he said with a chuckle.

When I had first arrived on the bay, I had mistakenly ground coffee beans in a grinder that had been used to grind peppercorns. Needless to say, it had produced a fiery brew.

Mr. Russell sat there for a long moment, looking down at his cup.

“Heard what ya did for Katy, gal,” he said. He looked up, and I saw the admiration in his eyes. “I’m proud of ya.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anyhow, I jest came to say good-bye. I’m leaving day after tomorrow.”

“You can’t leave!”

“I’m an old man now, gal,” he said, his face shadowed with a lingering sadness. “M’Carty and me, we came here together. I can’t rightly see stayin’ here with him gone.”