He doesn’t have an answer for that, and the rest of Hardwick’s school of fish is moving toward a desk at the far corner of the office. Frank sneers at me. Or maybe he smiles. The burn on his face makes his expressions hard to parse. Finally he lets us be and hurries off after his new boss.
We flee out the door and out into the cold winter light, and it feels like emerging from my uncle Hiram’s mine all over again. I breathe deep, as if the sea salt air can cleanse my soul, but I can’t stop shaking.
Chapter Five
“Lee! Are you all right?” Jefferson is blocked by two men with revolvers. Panic surges in my throat, and I bolt toward him, hands balled into fists.
The men step out of the way at once, guns lowered. Up close, I recognize their faces. I don’t remember their names, but I’m certain they used to work for my uncle. “We were just trying to keep him out of trouble, Miss Westfall,” says one. “He tried to follow Frank inside, and I thought someone might come to harm. Thought it might be the fellow without a gun.”
“Don’t do us any favors,” I say. I throw my arms around Jeff, not caring that everyone is watching, and he wraps me up in his. After a moment, I stop trembling.
When I step away, the men with guns are gone. Jefferson says, “There were two of them, or I would have forced my way inside.”
“I know. Are you all right?”
“They didn’t give me trouble, really. That one fellow was just trying to calm things down; he didn’t want anyone getting hurt. Did Frank—?”
“Frank Dilley is still a bully and a coward, but I’m fine.” As I say it, I know it to be true. Trouble is brewing, for sure and certain. But I’m breathing easier, more clearheaded. Jeff and I have been through so many troubles together, and I know we’ll find a way through the next one, even if haven’t quite put my finger on what it is yet.
“It was Jim’s idea to go in and check on you,” Jefferson says, with a nod toward Jim and Hampton. “When those fellows trained their pistols on me, he thought you might be in a pickle.”
So that’s why they dared the lion’s den. I turn and clasp Jim’s hand. It’s large and rough, warm and steady, like the man himself. “Thanks, Jim. I’m real glad to see you.”
Finally, he smiles, and the genuine warmth and welcome in that smile go straight to my heart. “Goes both ways, Miss Leah. It’s good for the soul to see you and Jefferson arrived safe. Also . . .” Jim clamps Hampton’s shoulder. “I enjoyed meeting your friend here. He told me a bit about his situation, coming west.”
“He’s done well for himself,” I say. “We’re still hoping to bring his wife out, though.”
“We can’t wait to meet Adelaide,” Becky adds.
“I have to know,” Jim says, eyes full of concern. “Your uncle Hiram . . . did he . . . is he—”
“He’s no longer a problem,” I say firmly.
“Well, that’s a blessing.”
“Where’s Tom?” says Jefferson, indicating the law office. “Did he help you with the house?”
“Not yet.” Becky says. “Nothing’s gone quite as expected.”
I glance toward the door we just exited, feeling an overwhelming urge to flee. Next time I encounter Dilley or Hardwick, I plan to be armed. All our guns are stashed in the wagon, unloaded for the journey. “Let’s discuss it elsewhere,” I say.
Becky nods. “My mother always said it’s not wise to go shopping after such an upsetting encounter, especially not for something important like a wedding dress. We’ll catch up with the others for now.”
I don’t know how that woman can think of shopping at a time like this.
“Miss Leah,” Jim says, suddenly formal. “I have a little surprise for you. I was planning to track you down in the spring, but since I’ve found you, I’ll fetch it and bring it around tomorrow.”
I’m not one for surprises, but I say, “We’d surely love to see more of you. Call on us at the Parker House hotel.”
We take our leave of Jim, promising to chat more soon.
“Can you believe it?” Jefferson says, staring after our friend. “Seeing Jim is like having a little piece of home.”
“Sure is.” If Mama and Daddy are looking down on me now, they’re smiling to see that Jim and I found each other.
We climb into the wagon for a short ride across the plaza to the Parker House. It’s the largest hotel I’ve ever seen, so wide it fills the street front from corner to corner, with a row of dormer windows all the way across the second floor. It is also, the proprietor informs us, completely full.
Becky’s big blue eyes somehow grow bigger and bluer as she tells the innkeeper about her “sweet children who are desperate for a roof over their heads after a harrowing journey through the wilderness.” He is helpless under her gaze, and he suddenly recalls that our friends stopped by earlier. He gestures through the window toward the City Hotel, a smaller structure with a garret, where he assures us we will find rooms and our friends.
The innkeep at the City Hotel is gambling in the smoky parlor with some of his customers. When we ask after our friends, he grunts in the direction of the stairway. Jefferson is taking care of the horses and wagon, so Becky, Hampton, and I tromp up the narrow staircase to the garret, following after the sound of laughing children.
Becky dashes down the hall to an open door. There’s little space in the tiny room, so Hampton and I hover in the doorway. Olive, seven years old and a hundred years curious, peppers her mother with questions, while Andy plays on the floor with clever wooden animals carved by the Major. Major Wally Craven sits on one of two canvas cots in the room, feeding something mushy and unidentifiable to Becky’s baby girl.
We met the Major on the wagon train west, and he’s been a good friend ever since Jasper amputated his leg to save his life. He’s a large, strong fellow, clever with his hands, who wears a wooden leg of his own design. Becky won’t travel anywhere without her children, and she doesn’t trust anyone but the Major to watch over them.
“The room’s barely larger than a wardrobe,” Becky says, hunching over to avoid the bare rafters. “But the children have endured worse.”
The Major shifts the baby to his shoulder and pats her on the back to burp her. “There were only two rooms available. Twenty-five dollars each per week, rent paid in advance. I took them both. Apparently a fire took out a lot of buildings last month.” He points up to the bare rafters. “They barely finished this place before they moved on to the next. We’ll have to sleep in shifts.”
“Oh, dear,” says Becky, in a tone that I’m pretty sure means This won’t do. “San Francisco has not been kind to us so far. At least Hampton got his freedom papers!”
Hampton waves them triumphantly.
I sense someone approach and turn to see Henry, clean-shaven and hair slicked neat as you please. A silk cravat hangs around his neck, a brighter blue than fashionable.
I say, “I thought you’d be out looking for a teaching job.”
“The new state constitution requires public schools,” Henry says, “but it seems no one has gotten around to building them. I was told the first school will be built in Monterey.”
“So what are you going to do?” I ask.