Wilderness Courtship (7 page)

“I was goin’ to do that come morning.”

“No. You’ll do it now. I don’t want you hanging around here drawing attention to me.” He patted his cuff where they both knew he carried a hidden derringer. “The way I see it you have a choice. Either you hightail it for the boats or I’ll shoot you where you stand and eliminate any connections between us. It’s up to you.”

“Okay.” He held up his hands in a gesture of compliance. “I’ll go.” Glancing toward the hotel windows above he added, “What about my clothes?”

“I’ll pitch them out the window for you. If you or any sign of you is still in San Francisco in another hour, you’re a dead man.”

“We were partners,” his companion grumbled. “Why should you want to kill me?”

“For sheer stupidity if nothing else. Now, stay put and keep out of sight. I’ll go get your things.”

“There’s a pistol under my pillow. Don’t forget that.”

The stronger-willed assassin laughed coarsely. “You must think I’m a fool. You’ll get it—but without any bullets.”

“Awww…What’ll happen to me if I ain’t armed?”

His eyes narrowed menacingly. “One more word out of you and neither of us will have to worry about what happens to you, gun or no gun. Is that clear?”

“Yeah. I s’pose I can get more black powder, ball and caps down in Chinatown. Just hurry it up, will ya?” His wary gaze darted to the streets at either end of the alley as if expecting imminent attack.

“I’ll be shoving your clothes out that window just as soon as I can sneak into your room.” He pointed up with his half-smoked cigar. “Be ready.”

“What if somebody sees you?”

“Then I’ll play it safe, protect myself, and you’ll be leaving without your duds. Just remember you’re leaving, period. Even if it’s feetfirst.”

Chapter Seven

C
harity packed everyone’s clothes except Thorne’s and turned in early that night. Naomi caused her no trouble, thanks to another cup of Mrs. Montgomery’s special tea, but every creaky board, every quarrelsome gull that perched on the porch roof, every passing carriage or horseman below seemed to startle Charity and keep her from falling asleep. As a consequence, she was exhausted in the morning when Thorne rapped on the door to her room.

She gathered her wrapper around her and tied the sash on her way to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he said. “We should leave within the hour.”

Opening the door a crack Charity hid behind it and peeked out. “We’ll be ready. Naomi is still sound asleep but I’ll have her up and dressed in plenty of time. I promise.”

“You look tired,” he said gently.

“I am, and that’s a fact.” She peered past him and scowled. “Where’s Jacob?”

“Downstairs with Mrs. Montgomery and your father.” He began to smile. “You should see those two working together in the kitchen. She’s giving the orders like a ship’s captain and he’s trying to keep up with her. Looks to me as if she’ll be wanting to hire some more help very soon.”

“I don’t doubt that. Papa never was much of a cook or housekeeper. His miner’s cabin at Beal’s Bar was pretty rustic.”

Loath to shut the door all the way and bid him goodbye, she tarried a moment longer. When Thorne took a step back she assumed she was keeping him. “I don’t want to delay you. We’ll be down in a jiffy.”

It pleased her to see that Thorne seemed as reluctant to depart as she was to have him leave.

Finally, he asked, “Do you want me to wait out here until you’re ready?”

“Mercy, no. By the time we dress and do our hair up properly you could be through eating breakfast.”

Still, he hesitated. “I don’t know that I should leave you.”

“We’ll be fine. This is a respectable hotel and one of our clerks is on duty all night. I warned him to be on the lookout for the man you caught bothering Jacob, so I know there’s nothing to worry about.”

Thorne nodded. “All right. I’ll stop by the front desk and check with him about it just to be sure. In the meantime, you ladies make ready to travel. And be sure you have your heavy coats. It can get blustery on board those packet boats, even if they do stay closer to shore than my heavier freighters. You’ll doubtless need warm clothing the farther north we sail, too.”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m afraid I don’t have anything really heavy.”

“Then bring Aaron’s overcoat for yourself,” Thorne said. “I was planning to leave his suits and things behind for your father, anyway. Emory won’t need that coat nearly as much as you will.”

“All right. Perhaps I can take my sewing box and make the necessary alterations while we’re traveling.” She wasn’t pleased when Thorne laughed.

“Do as you wish. Just remember, the less we have to transport, the easier the trip will be,” he said.

“I know.” Pursing her lips and making a face she nevertheless had to admit he was being sensible. “All right. I’ll wear the coat as it is and roll up the sleeves if need be. Will that satisfy you?” Seeing his continuing amusement, she added, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I apologize. I was just picturing you floundering around in that big coat.”

“I never flounder. Besides, if your brother’s coat warms me when I would otherwise be freezing, I certainly won’t let pride keep me from wearing it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She eased the door closed and left him standing there in the hallway, grinning like a child with his hand in a penny candy jar at the mercantile. She had been honest when she’d insisted she wasn’t prideful. Now that she thought more about their upcoming situation she decided it was just as well she wouldn’t look very appealing while clad in Aaron’s oversize coat.

The last thing she wanted was to make herself attractive to a man—any man—and her burgeoning feelings for Thorne Blackwell and his nephew would be far better denied than expressed.

Yes, he already knew she cared deeply for the boy but that was simply a mother’s instincts. All women had those. It was her undeniable affinity for Jacob’s taciturn yet intriguing uncle that threatened to be her undoing.

Charity pressed her back against the closed door, looked around and sighed. This was the last time she would see this cozy room for who knew how long, and the thought of leaving San Francisco and all that was familiar tugged at her heart. She knew that sacrifice was necessary. She also knew she was doing the right thing.

Nevertheless, she wished she could change the current circumstances. The notion of making a journey into a wilderness that lay beyond her current experience was unsettling. The idea of doing so in the company of a forceful man like Thorne Blackwell was doubly so.

Thick, damp, bone-chilling fog shrouded the city as Thorne led his little party toward the wharf where the
Grand Republic
awaited. He knew the crew would already have a head of steam built up in preparation for sailing and he was in a hurry to board.

The docks were bustling with activity in spite of the dreariness of the early morning. Bulging cargo nets swung from overhead hoists mounted on the foredeck while dozens of men pushed heavily laden carts across rickety planks that spanned the short distance between the pier and the boat’s portside. Over the years, many a hapless man had missed his footing and plunged to his death from such planks. It was a hazardous profession but never lacked for willing workers.

Thorne hired a man to follow with their luggage, then began to escort the adults in his party across the planks one at a time, beginning with Charity so he could safely pass Jacob into her care.

“Take him and wait right here with our bags while I get Naomi,” he ordered.

Charity smiled and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

He understood that she was merely trying to lighten his mood but he couldn’t bring himself to respond in kind. Maybe it was because of the foggy morning or maybe he was just unduly jumpy, but he couldn’t seem to banish the sense that they were being watched.

His footsteps echoed hollowly on the springy plank as he returned to shore for his sister-in-law. She wasn’t where he had left her! For an instant he feared that she had wandered off again. Then, he spotted her about fifteen feet away, standing with her back to the
Grand Republic.

It wasn’t until Thorne drew closer that he realized she was in the company of the same portly man who had tried to take her for a walk near the hotel.

He quickened his approach. “Hey, there. What do you think you’re doing?”

The man doffed his hat to reveal thinning, reddish hair and smiled instead of retreating. “I was just telling this dear lady that I was certain you would be right back.” He took a step to the side as Thorne grasped Naomi’s arm. “I remembered how upset you were the last time we met so I refrained from allowing her to talk me into escorting her anywhere. I trust that suits your pleasure?”

“Yes.” Thorne nodded, polite but wary. “Thank you.”

Starting to guide Naomi away, he scowled at the other man. “What brings you to the docks so early? Did you find the passage you wanted?”

“I certainly did,” the man said. He raised his lit cigar and blew a smoke ring that disappeared almost instantly in the pea soup air. “I’m sailing aboard this very boat. You?”

“We’re on the
Grand Republic,
too.”

“Excellent.” He extended his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. Cyrus Satterfield, recently of Philadelphia. I believe I had the pleasure of dining with you several times at the Montgomery House Hotel.”

Although Thorne was hesitant, he responded out of habit and shook the other man’s hand. “Smith,” he said.

“And you’re from…?”

“I live at sea,” Thorne told him. “Excuse us.”

“Of course, of course. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get better acquainted while on board.”

Thorne had made up his mind long ago that he was going to keep his family from getting acquainted with any other travelers. Now that he knew Cyrus Satterfield was aboard, he was even more determined to sequester them. There was something about the man that bothered Thorne. He recalled that Charity hadn’t had the same misgivings, yet he couldn’t seem to banish his concern.

Perhaps Satterfield was simply an unctuous fool. Then again, perhaps Thorne’s first impression had been the right one. He’d disliked the man from the moment he’d first laid eyes on him.

Charity tried to distract herself, and Jacob, by showing him all the interesting cargo that was piled on the open, lower deck of the steamboat. There was extra wood for the boilers, sack goods such as grain and milled flour, barrels of pickles, crackers and hardtack, enormous bales of what looked like fodder for the sheep penned on the foredeck, a few cages filled with hens and all sorts of other miscellaneous freight.

She smiled as Thorne and Naomi joined them. “Jacob likes these chickens. He wanted to know if he could have one as a pet.”

“Maybe your grandma White has chickens where she lives,” Thorne replied. He gestured with his free arm. “We should go on up to the passenger deck so we’re not in the way while the longshoremen finish loading and the crew prepares to cast off.”

Charity, toting Jacob on one hip, led the way. “Oof,” she told the child, “you’re getting heavy now that you’re almost three years old. What a big boy you are.”

“His birthday is in June,” Naomi said. Then she flushed and looked astonished. “Mercy me. How do you suppose I knew that?”

Charity didn’t know what to say in response so she remained silent.

“It’s the tenth, if I remember right,” Thorne volunteered. “We should be at his grandparents’ by then. We’ll have to have a birthday party.”

“With cake,” the child added, clearly delighted. “I like chocolate. Mama always makes it for me.”

It tore at Charity’s heart to see the little boy look at his mother so lovingly. It was evident he now expected her to begin talking to him the way she used to but the woman had resumed her blank stare. Whatever twist of fate had triggered her sudden recall, the occasion had apparently passed.

“Well, if your grandmother doesn’t know how to bake the kind of cake you like, I do,” Charity said. “I’ll see that somebody makes you one for your birthday. Okay?”

He nodded so hard his curls bobbed. “Okay!” Wrapping his arms around her neck he added a soft, tender, “I love you.”

If she hadn’t been in such close proximity to the rest of the family she would have buried her face in his curls and allowed herself to weep.

As it was, she simply gave him a hug, forced a smile and said, “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Thorne could tell that Charity was getting far too attached to the child for her own good. He knew exactly how that could happen. He’d done the same thing on their journey around the horn.

At his young age, Jacob was open and loving to a fault. He had not yet realized the extent of the disappointments that life had dealt him, nor would he have to bear them alone, if Thorne had his way. He didn’t know how he was going to accomplish that, especially once they delivered Naomi and the boy to the missionaries, but he was certainly going to try. Above all, he was going to keep sending money for their support so they never became a financial liability to anyone.

Louis Ashton had always complained loudly about the terrible burden Thorne’s presence had caused. One of the most violent outbursts had occurred shortly before Thorne had left home for good.

“I can do as I please whether you like it or not,” Louis had shouted at his wife. “If I choose to beat the no-good boy within an inch of his life, it’s my right.”

“You have no rights to him,” Pearl had sobbed as she’d clung to her husband’s sleeve to stay his hand. “No rights!”

“I’m his father, remember? You should. It’s your fault I was saddled with raising him.”

“He goes by my first husband’s name already. What more do you want?”

Louis had laughed maniacally then. “What I want is illegal, my dear, or I would have put him in the ground when he was born.”

Though the bruises had long ago healed, the memory of that last bout of physical and verbal abuse was still painful. If Thorne could protect Jacob from ever feeling unaccepted or unloved, for whatever reason, he would.

When Thorne had first learned the truth about his own origins, he had blamed his mother for his troubles. Since Pearl had known she was carrying her late husband’s child, why had she kept that news from Louis until after they were married? It was little wonder Louis had been hurt and angry as a result. That much was understandable. The only thing Thorne could not forgive was the way the man had treated him as he was growing up in the Ashton mansion. He had no doubt, if it hadn’t been for Pearl’s intervention, Louis would have tossed him into the streets at the first opportunity and never thought of him again.

In retrospect, incurring Louis’s hatred was actually better than enduring his so-called love, Thorne concluded soberly. The old man’s interference had probably caused Aaron’s death. Even if his brother was still alive, Louis had gotten what he’d wanted. Aaron’s little family had been split asunder.

Thorne clenched his fists. If he ever laid eyes on his stepfather again, he was going to have to struggle to control his temper. He knew what the Good Book said; “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,” but he wasn’t the kind of man to stand back and expect a bolt of lightning to come from heaven and handily eliminate his enemies for him.

If such a strike was to end Louis’s miserable life, perhaps it was meant to come from the hand of the man he had so often cursed and screamed at in hatred.

Thorne gritted his teeth. Could he kill in cold blood? He strongly doubted it.

Then again, he added with silent determination, if brutality was necessary to protect the lives of Jacob and Naomi—or Charity—he would not hesitate to act in their behalf. Of that he was positive.

He gazed at Jacob through eyes of love. That boy could have been his son. If Naomi had not chosen to wed his brother, her firstborn
would
have been his child.