Thurston House (35 page)

I'm sorry you feel that way. And then as he hesitated before he left, I can't help thinking you'd be better off without the burden of this, but to her it only sounded like another smooth line to relieve her of her mines and he saw her glance at the door with a tired look. I understand. She almost wondered if he did, but he couldn't possibly. He couldn't know how desperately she would fight to keep it all. She would never let the mines go. Never.

The vineyards were thriving as well and she had joined the winemakers' cooperative in the past year, and she was determined to help them better their lot and improve their wines, and here again she was barely tolerated by the men involved. But she was used to it by now. She was used to being unwelcome everywhere, to being seldom spoken to, to being shunned and abused, to being the first one the other owners spent their fury on, but she gave it back to them when she needed to. She had developed a handsome temper in the past year, born of constantly being under stress, and John Harte saw that in her face now, and he thought her even more beautiful than the year before. There was something about her that made him want to take her in his arms. But that made no sense at all. She was a woman who wanted no help from anyone. She would climb the mountain alone, and one day she would sit there by herself. That made him sad for her, and in a way, she had chosen the same fate that he himself and her father had. Neither he nor Jeremiah had ever chosen to marry again, they had run their mines alone. He with Spring Moon at his side, his Indian squaw, and Jeremiah with his child, but she had no one at all. The thought pained him as he rode back to his mine, thinking of her, but Sabrina wasted no thought on him, she had work to do. She seldom allowed herself random thoughts these days. Her life was a constant fight just to survive, and it wasn't an accident that she had reopened the two defunct mines again, she had done it with hard work, and endless hours, long nights at work, and months and months of sweat.

And now she was working just as hard to force the business to grow. She had just sold seven hundred flasks to a firm in the East, and she had promised the men a bonus when the flasks were shipped. She knew how her father had operated the mines, there was no secret to how he had operated it, and in keeping with his philosophy she shared some of her profits with her men if they worked hard. And if they didn't like her, they knew at least that she was decent with them. That was all they asked, and all she asked in return, but it wasn't always what she got, although she expected more now. And if any man wasn't civil with her, he was out of a job within the hour, if it took that long. She could afford to be harder with them and they respected her for it.

She's still a bitch, snotty little thing. Dan Richfield was shooting off his mouth in a bar one night with some of her men when John Harte walked in, and Dan didn't see him as he stood at the end of the bar. She thinks if she wears pants for long enough, she'll grow a dick. The men laughed and John Harte spoke up quietly from the end of the bar.

Was that what you were looking for when you tried to rape her last year? There was a sudden silence and Dan went pale and wheeled around, shocked to see his boss, and even more so to realize that Harte knew he had almost done.

What's that supposed to mean?

I don't think you should be talking about Sabrina Thur-ston like that. She works as hard as the rest of us, and these men still work for her, unless I'm wrong. Suddenly, one or two of them looked ashamed. John Harte was no friend of hers, but he was right. She did work damn hard, you had to give her credit for that. The men shuffled off and Dan Richfield stayed, his eyes blazing, his fists itching to lash out, but he didn't dare, instead he drank his whiskey with a surly look at John, but it was Sabrina he wanted to get his hands on. She had ruined all his dreams. And now that his wife was gone, he could have used a piece like her. It burned him for days, especially thinking about what she might have told John, and late the following Monday night, drinking at the same bar, he decided to ride past the Thurston mines, and he stopped when he saw Sabrina's horse there. It was nine o'clock at night, and he figured she must have left him there. He stopped, and tied up his own mount, walked slowly up the steps, and was startled to see her there. He looked through the window, and saw her at her desk, head bowed, her dark hair pulled back, her pen flying as she wrote. She was there until almost midnight every night, and it was still early for her. He suddenly grinned as he saw her, and he didn't realize it, but he had come back to finish what he had left undone the year before when she'd fired him. But as he walked across the porch, a board creaked, and without lifting her head, she pulled open the desk drawer, and had the small pistol in her hand before he reached the door, and her first shot flew through the windowpane and whizzed past his arm as he stood transfixed with shock, staring at her as she quietly looked up and spoke out loud enough for him to hear.

You come through that door, and you're a dead man, Dan. And he could tell she meant every word. She didn't look surprised or afraid. She was prepared for anything now, and she wasn't afraid of him. She stood up and leveled the gun at his head, and without saying a word, he turned and walked away. She rang the bell for one of the watchmen then. They were assigned to guard the mines, she had no real need of them where she worked, but she called for them now to check the grounds and make sure that Dan was nowhere around.

And the next day she sent a warning to John Harte, suggesting that he keep better control over his men. If she found one on her grounds again, she would assume he was sent by Harte himself to harass her into selling her mines and she would kill him on the spot. She informed Harte that she had chosen to spare Richfield this time, but she wouldn't again. And he was not pleased to learn that Dan was bothering her again. He warned him of it that day and Richfield's jaw clenched as Harte spoke, but he said not a single word. And afterward, John laughed to himself. She was not unlike Spring Moon, so sure of her trusty blade, and apparently Sabrina had a fine hand with a gun. He was only sorry she had a need for it, but she lived in a man's world. And John Harte did not make her another offer that year.

WELL, girl, you're twenty-one, what you gonna do now? Hannah looked at her over the cake she had baked and she wanted to cry as she saw Sabrina's face. She had grown into womanhood now, and she was a beautiful girl, but she was as hard as rock. She ran a mine complex of nearly six hundred men and she had stepped into her daddy's shoes, but for what? She had been rich enough before, and now she led a lonely life, working till midnight every night, ordering her men around, firing them on the spot if they got out of line. So what? She was losing her gentle ways and Hannah suspected that it was destroying her. Amelia had said as much when she had come to visit the previous year, but she had also realized that there was no changing her mind, and she had told Hannah to back off and give her time. She'll grow tired of it in time, the wise woman had smiled, perhaps she'll fall in love. But with what? Her horse? She was already in love with her work, and when she wasn't killing herself at the mines, she was at the vineyard co-op fighting with another group of men.

I can't understand what made you like that. Hannah looked at her in despair. Your daddy didn't even love his mines as much as you do. He was more interested in you.

That's why I owe it to him. She was always definite about that, and Hannah shook her head and served her a slice of the gooey chocolate birthday cake. It was the same cake she had been baking her for twenty-one years, and this time Sabrina smiled at her old friend. You're awfully good to me, Hannah.

I wish you were good to yourself for a change. You work even harder than he did. At least he came home to you. Why don't you think about selling the damn mine and getting married instead? But Sabrina only laughed. Whom would she marry? One of the men at the mines? The new foreman she had hired when the old one left? Her banker in town? There was no one who interested her, and she had too many other things to do.

Maybe I'm more like Daddy than you think. She smiled. She had told Amelia the same thing. After all, he didn't marry till he was forty-four.

You can't wait that long, Hannah growled.

Why not?

Don't you want babies one day?

Sabrina shrugged ' babies ' what an odd thought' all she could think about were the seven hundred flasks she had to ship east in two weeks ' and the two hundred and fifty flasks to the South ' the paperwork she had to do ' the men she had to fire and keep in line ' the floods they might have ' or the fires they had to guard against ' babies? How did they fit into the scheme of things? They certainly didn't now, and they probably never would. It seemed no loss to her. She couldn't imagine herself with a child. Not anymore. She had too many other things on her mind, and as soon as she finished her cake, she went upstairs to pack. She had already told Hannah that she was going to San Francisco for a few days.

By yourself? She always said the same thing.

Who would you like me to take? Sabrina smiled. Half a dozen men from the mine to chaperone me on the boat?

Don't be fresh, girl.

All right she had said it a thousand times by now I'll take you.

You know that damn boat makes me sick.

Then I'll have to go alone, won't I? And she didn't mind at all. The trip to San Francisco always gave her time to think, and it was a rare chance to visit Thurston House. It still pained her to walk into the room where her father had died, but it was a beautiful house and it was sad never to use it at all. She kept no help there, and she would open it herself and tend to her own needs for the few days she was there. Think, Hannah, now everyone may think me odd, but in a few years, think how acceptable I'll be. I'll be that crazy old woman who's been running those mines for years. And no one will think it strange when I take a trip alone, or get on a steamer, or go into town without a maid. I'll be able to do absolutely anything I want to do, she laughed, and for an instant she sounded young again. I can hardly wait.

It won't be long. Hannah looked sorrowfully at her. This wasn't what she had wanted for the child she had raised. You'll be old soon enough, and you'll have wasted all these precious years. But to Sabrina they weren't wasted years. She felt victorious most of the time, and satisfied with what she had done. It was only from others that she seldom won approval or acclaim. They just thought her pushy and independent and very odd, but she was used to that by now too. She held her chin a little higher than she had before, and her tongue was sharper than it had once been. She was quicker with a retort, and faster on the draw with her little silver gun. But in her heart of hearts, she knew she had done well, and she was pleased with what she had done. And she secretly thought that her father would have been too. Perhaps it hadn't been what he wanted for her, but he would have respected how far she had come in three long, long years. It was amazing to Sabrina to realize that it had been that long. And she had worked hard. She thought about it again now as she came downstairs with her bag, and her cloak over her arm.

'Til be back in three days. She kissed Hannah's cheek, and thanked her for the birthday cake, and as Hannah watched her start her car, she had tears in her eyes. The girl would never know what she had missed, but for all her strength and her independence, there was a hole in her life the size of the bam out back, and Hannah was sorry for her. This was no life for her, and hadn't been for three years.

Sabrina drove to Napa herself, and left her car at the stables near the dock, just as she always did. She had been one of the first people in Napa to have a car, and like everything else she did, it caused comment for months. But she didn't care, it was an enormous convenience for her. She still rode her old horse over to the mine most days, but she enjoyed using the car when she went any farther than that, and especially when she went to Napa to catch the steamer into town, it saved her a lot of time. And she boarded the familiar boat now, and spent the four hours in her cabin reading papers she had brought along. She wanted to speak to the bank about some more land she wanted to buy, and she already knew that she would have to listen to their usual advice, that she would be wiser to sell the vineyards and the mines, or hire a man to run them both. It never dawned on them that there were very few men who could have done what she did, and she was used to their advice. She smiled politely and then went on with the business at hand, and they were always amazed at the soundness of her ideas. Who advised you on this? they almost always asked, or Was this your foreman's idea? It was useless to explain to them that it was her own, it was truly beyond their ken, and she knew it would be again now when she went to them the next day. But somehow they would get through it all, and she would get what she wanted from them. They had learned to trust her in the past three years, like her men, although they seldom understood what she did or why. And she had learned it all from Jeremiah himself.

She closed her briefcase as she felt the boat bump against the dock, and she hadn't left her cabin this time. After Hannah's enormous birthday lunch, she hadn't wanted to eat, and she had had so much work to do. And now she was anxious to relax in a hot bath at Thurston House. It would take time for the water tank to heat up, but that would give her time to make sure that everything in the house was sound. She hadn't been to town in several months, and she was the only one who ever went to the house, although the bank had the authority to check it from time to time, and she had given them a spare set of keys.

She fit her own key into the lock, when the carriage dropped her off. And first she had to open the enormous gate, and then they rolled down the drive and deposited her in front of the house. There was no light anywhere, and when she stepped inside she had to fumble to put the light on, and when she did, she brought her bag inside and shut the door. She was tired tonight, and she stood and looked around, and suddenly she felt tears in her eyes for the first time in a long time. She was twenty-one years old and there was no one to share it with her, and this was the house in which her father had died ' somehow it seemed sad to her to be here tonight, all alone, and she missed him more than she had in years. She was almost sorry she had come, and as she sat in the deep bathtub in her suite later that night, she thought back over the past three years, how difficult they had been, how many people had done her wrong, wished her ill, caused her pain, even Hannah had often been angry and unkind. No one understood the sense of duty or the drive that kept her running the mines, instead they all wanted to see her fail, or to take them from her. At least John Harte had finally stopped trying to buy the mines from her, and that was a relief. She wondered if Dan Richfield still worked for him, she imagined he did, he had been six months before, and what a disappointment he had been, but he hadn't come to bother her again at the mines, not since the time she had shot at him through the windowpane. And at the thought, she glanced over at the pink marble sink where she had left her little silver gun. She never left it very far from her, and kept it on her bed table at night as she slept. She would have put it under her pillow, but the trigger was too quick, as Dan Richfield had seen. In some ways, she led a life of constant strain, but she was used to it now. And in a way, when she came to San Francisco, she got away from it totally. San Francisco was so cosmopolitan, so urbane, and almost no one knew who she was. No one whispered or stopped to point, as they did in Napa, or Calistoga, or St. Helena now ' look ' that's the woman who runs the mines! ' the Thurston girl ' crazy as a March hare ' she runs the mines you know! ' she's tough as nails ' mean as fire ' there were a thousand unkind ways to describe her now and she thought she had heard them all, but here nobody cared. She could even allow herself to pretend that she wasn't who she was, wandering down Market Street, or in Union Square, or stopping at a flower shop to buy herself a rose to pin on her lapel or a bunch of white violets to tie in her hair. She didn't have to worry about what her men thought of her when she went to the mines. She could almost pretend that she was just any young girl.