“I steer him toward the tables with the losers and away from the winners.”
I think back to the first time I met her, with Becky in the law offices. “You saw Mrs. Joyner coming with Henry in disguise to claim her house? That’s why Frank Dilley was waiting for us.”
She smiles. “Yes. One of my clearer visions.”
“But you can’t change the future, even when you see it?”
“I tried. My mother and I both tried.” Bitterness tinges her voice. “I’ve learned to accept what I see, work with it instead of against it. Good men or bad, it doesn’t matter—luck flows downhill. There’s no point in fighting upstream against it.”
The Charlotte notwithstanding, she’s giving everything away more freely than I expected. Maybe she’s lonely. Maybe she’s as eager as I am to talk to someone else with witchy gifts. I nod toward the gambling tables. “So what do you see for my friend Henry tonight?”
“Oh, Henry’s going away broke, but you don’t need to buy him a drink. He’ll be perfectly happy.” She pauses. “And I’m not sure why.”
“Because he’s always happy. It’s his nature.” I glance over my shoulder to look at Henry and smile.
And freeze instead.
Tom is strolling through the tables with an arm around Mr. Keys, who staggers drunkenly. Together, they are singing loud enough to drown out the band.
Henry laughs out loud, delighted to see Tom in his cups. He stands to say hello.
But this is my cue. Henry doesn’t know this part of the plan. He could ruin everything. I need to reach Tom before Henry does.
I pick up my skirts and run. “Tom! Thomas Bigler!” Becky once used some choice words, and I mine my memory for them. “Thomas Bigler, you no-good, rotten, pusillanimous snake!”
The shocked crowd parts to make way for me. Henry sinks back down to his seat. I reach Tom and shove him in the chest.
“Hello, Lee,” Tom says. Mr. Keys shrinks away from us both, eyes wide.
“Don’t ‘Hello, Lee’ to me,” I shout. “I can’t believe you work for that scoundrel Hardwick. Not after everything he did to us. He just took the roof right from over our heads. Becky lost her house because of you! Jim got shot because of you!”
I keep advancing on him as I talk, grabbing and pushing, grabbing and pushing, until he has to grab me in return just to keep his balance.
I can’t stop now. “You sold us out. You told Hardwick that Becky and Henry were going to pick up her house from the customs officer!”
“Don’t blame any of those things on me,” he says. “A man has to earn a living.”
Party guests gather to watch the show, and a few good Samaritans try to intervene, gently coaxing us apart. Tom and I elbow them back.
“You don’t have to work for him,” I snap.
We’re all tangled up, and I’m right in his face, close enough to feel his breath on me. But it’s the last thing I get to say. Hands pry us apart, and rough knuckles on my collar drag me back and fling me to the ground.
Frank Dilley looms over me, Mr. Keys at his side. Tom stands beside them like a brother-in-arms, yanking down his vest and checking his pockets.
“You can’t talk to Mr. Hardwick’s employees that way,” Dilley says. “Now get to your feet, so I can throw you out on the street where you belong.”
First I smooth my dress and pat my pocket, noticing that all my coins are gone—even the original stake I painstakingly preserved. I take my time rising as the crowd presses in, every eye on us.
A baby’s cry penetrates the din. Becky appears, angry infant in her arms, and stands over me like a shelter in a storm. “You can’t treat a young lady that way,” she says.
“Lee Westfall ain’t no lady,” Dilley says. “Way I remember it, she prefers to wear pants.”
“You’re just steamed because I wear them better than you.” Dilley raises his hand as if to strike me, but Hardwick arrives, giving Dilley pause. Becky helps me to my feet.
“There’s no need for trouble here,” Hardwick says.
I back into the crowd, until there’s no room to back away farther. Several hands reach out to steady me, and I’m not sure if they’re trying to be helpful or just looking for an excuse to lay hands on a young woman. I glare at Hardwick. “You’re not content to rob me, you have to threaten me, too! You’re a lowdown thief.”
“Miss Westfall, you can’t be a guest in my home and impugn me with that kind of language,” Hardwick says very reasonably.
“It’s not impugning if it’s the truth,” I shout. “You’re a thief! You sell land that isn’t yours. You kick people out of houses they paid for. You steal people’s most treasured possessions, the things they shipped to San Francisco, and then sell them at auction.”
“Miss Westfall,” Hardwick says. “I’ve done nothing illegal.”
And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? The law is always on Hardwick’s side.
I glance at Tom, who gives a barely discernable nod. He has dealt with my stash of coins, and it’s finally time to play my final card. I say, “You’re a thief just the same. And you invited all these people here tonight”—I swing my arm around to indicate every judge, businessman, and politician in the crowd—“to rob them one last time before you leave town. Did you think no one would notice?” There. I’ve planted the seed. It will be up to Henry to water it and make it grow.
“Friends, friends, I apologize,” Hardwick says, addressing the crowd. “Clearly she has had too much to drink. A little beer and little gambling are too much for any lady to handle.”
People laugh politely, even though anyone nearby can tell I’m sober as a funeral. “I haven’t touched a drop of your cheap watered-down booze.”
“Clearly you brought your own,” Hardwick says, getting a few more laughs. He’s so slick, nothing sticks to him. It’s like watching water slide off a duck. “One of the great things I love about California is its egalitarian promise. Everyone who wants to work hard and earn their way can rise to the top. It will make this the greatest state in the Union. Unfortunately,” he pauses to give me a pitying look, “some people try to gamble their way to riches instead, and end up losing everything.” He beckons Frank with a wave of his hand. “Please escort the two ladies to the gate. Round up their other friends as you find them, and see them out as well.”
Frank grins, reaching out like he means to take us by the collar, but I slap his hand away. “We’ll go quietly. Don’t you dare touch us.”
“I was growing tired of this party anyway,” Becky says, rocking the baby against her shoulder. “It’s hard to find common interests with such low company as yourself.”
“If you want low company, I can put you both in the ground,” Dilley says, resting a hand on his gun.