Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (34 page)

Katie looked around the bustling waterfront. Jack and Stephen were off making certain that Katie’s trunk was loaded properly on the steamer they were about to board for San Francisco. She wasn’t particularly interested in discussing the economy of Sacramento, but Amanda seemed so earnest, and it was, after all, a way to pass the time. Katie certainly didn’t want to answer questions about her relationship with Jack, several of which Amanda had already attempted to pose. “It clearly is evident that Sacramento has become quite the shipping center.” She gestured below them at the river, which was crowded with barks, brigs, schooners, sloops, steamers, and barges.

Amanda nodded, dark eyes wide in her pale, thin face. “That’s only part of it. This valley is going to provide a bounty of food. Already we have many flour mills, and thousands of acres are planted with fruit orchards and other crops. We have dozens of brickyards, several lumber mills—”

“Kathleen, it’s time to board!” Jack approached, winding his way through the bales, crates, and boxes that were being unloaded along the levee.

Katie glanced back at the unfinished-looking city, shrouded in the pinkish-gray fog that marked most sunrises in the Central Valley at this time of year. The distant mountains where she had spent nearly all her life were hidden from view. In the midst of her excitement, Katie felt a bittersweet pang for the life she was leaving behind. “I want to thank you and Mr. Knauer for your many kindnesses,” she said, taking Amanda’s hand. “I’ll always remember Sacramento as the place where I began my marriage.”

“It was our pleasure.” Amanda beamed. “I hope you realize how lucky you are to have caught Jack Wyatt. Wait until the female population of San Francisco hears! I wish I could be there to witness the reaction as the word spreads....”

Jack took his wife’s arm, giving Amanda a sharp look as he did so. “Don’t talk nonsense, Mandy. I’m certain that the only response to the news of our marriage will be warm congratulations.”

“What about Gen—” Amanda caught herself, realizing that Katie might not even know about Genevieve Braithwaite. “Of course, you’re right. You know how we women are, we just love the thought of gossip! Now you two have a wonderful trip, and give our love to—”

“I’ll be sure to pass along regards to all your friends,” Jack cut in. He gave Amanda a kiss, shook hands with Stephen, and waited while Katie made her good-byes. At last the newlyweds boarded the magnificent steamer.

Jack told Katie that the steamships that plied the Sacramento River were known as water palaces, and she mentioned that Samuel Clemens had called the riverboats he had piloted “wedding cakes on water.” Jack laughed at that, and Katie delighted briefly in the conversational spark. It was reassuring to recall that they had once engaged in heated verbal exchanges, matching wits with gusto.

Soon after they boarded the
Senator,
however, Jack slipped back into his role of detached husband. He stood on deck chatting with some businessmen he knew who were traveling to San Francisco, while Katie strolled around and admired the steamer. The
Senator
was indeed a water palace. From the dock it had looked like a splendid white house, a first impression unsullied by the view close up, for inside it boasted fine, large doors, spacious windows, and galleries with fittings and furniture to match. In the ornate saloon, Katie observed the rather curious mixture of passengers. The women were nearly all well dressed and appeared to be refined, but such was not the case with the men. Although some, like Jack, wore tailored suits, most looked as if they had come from the foothills in their worn jackets and work boots.

Every male on the steamer seemed to be chewing tobacco, even the boys. Katie found this disheartening, for she’d hoped the habit would not be so widespread in the larger cities. At least they didn’t spit as often as the miners of Columbia, although many of the men used their fingers for handkerchiefs. Katie reminded herself that she was still in the West, where men rejoiced in defying rules of etiquette.

South of Sacramento, the river was beautiful. Sloughs and hidden coves branched off in every direction, thick with water hyacinths. Fish jumped as they fed, and flocks of geese and ducks flew overhead, their cries filling the morning air. It was a new world for Katie, and she loved it all.

At length, Jack found Katie and took her to the dining salon for lunch. In spite of the room’s elegant appointments, the passengers’ manners made the meal a crowded, rushed affair. While they ate, Jack remarked that the steamer was making excellent time. It was always much quicker to travel downstream to San Francisco rather than the reverse, and the tide was out, which further hastened their journey. With luck, they would dock before sunset.

“I hope that you’ll have your first look at San Francisco in daylight,” Jack said, spearing a last bit of potato. “It’s nothing like Columbia....”

He gave her a wry smile, and Katie took a deep breath. The future was rushing toward her now, and there was nothing she could do to slow its approach. In a way, she was glad. Soon she would see her new city, her new home, and have some idea what the future would hold. She told herself that in just a few hours, the uncertainty would be over.

* * *

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wyatt,” Elijah said, receiving the news of his employer’s marriage with his usual unruffled composure. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. “Welcome to San Francisco.”

The black manservant’s warmth came as a great relief to Katie. As Jack handed her up into the beautiful carriage awaiting them near the Pacific Street wharf, she returned Elijah’s smile. “Thank you very much! I’m glad to meet you, too, Elijah.”

For his part, Jack ignored the other man’s keen, amused glance. “I appreciate your meeting us, and hope you didn’t have to wait long. How is everything at home?”

“Just fine, sir. Your grandfather and brother were happy to receive your telegram and are looking forward to your arrival, but they failed to mention Mrs. Wyatt to me....”

“That’s because they don’t know,” Jack replied laconically. “You may take a more scenic route to Rincon Hill, so that my wife can have a look at Sail Francisco before the light goes completely.”

As the carriage set off toward the hills of downtown, now plum-tinted in the twilight, Katie turned to Jack and murmured politely, “I didn’t know that you had a grandfather and brother at home.”

“Yes, you did. I told you last July, when I first suggested that you come to San Francisco with me.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

Katie’s voice rose. “Ate you referring to a conversation that took place between us on the night that my father died? How could you possibly expect me to remember information imparted to me at such a time?”

“Kathleen,” he warned, inclining his head toward Elijah, “I would prefer to have this discussion later, when we are alone.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Fine.” Why, she wanted to ask, had he not prepared her more fully for the circumstances of this new life? Why had he not told her all about his house, his business, and the family members who shared his home? Katie felt powerless and frustrated. She wanted to be happy and excited about the future that stretched before her, but Jack’s attitude thwarted that.

It was hard not to be stirred by her first sights of San Francisco, however. The busy streets were crowded with people, wagons, and carriages of every description. Store owners were bringing in their merchandise off the sidewalks as Elijah drove the carriage up Clay Street, and men were crowding into the doors of saloons. When Katie remarked on the number of buildings under construction, Jack explained:

“San Francisco is being rebuilt with Nevada silver. This is a boom that rivals the gold rush. The silver mines have yielded more than fifteen million dollars so far this year, and I’d estimate that more than a thousand new buildings have gone up here as a result of the fortunes made in Nevada. We’re beginning to have a city of quality.”

“I have always heard that it is quite fabulous.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Fabulous, perhaps, but not always in the best of taste.”

Katie opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, dumbfounded. Was this the down-to-earth, unpretentious man she had known in Columbia?

Sandy hills rose up around Stockton Street, imposing a western barricade. Elijah turned south, and before long they emerged into virtual countryside. Katie stared out the window with interest, while Poppy scrambled onto Jack’s lap. When he began to stroke her, gently rubbing her neck with his strong fingers, the noise of the kitten’s purring filled the carriage.

Rincon Hill curved around the foot of the bay, much of which had been filled in in recent years to create a straighter waterfront for the city. Rincon Hill rose above the fog, majestic and imposing with its elegant brick homes—particularly those of South Park, which was built along the western slope. South Park consisted of mews patterned after those in London; residential blocks were centered on a floral park, and the whole area was enclosed by a locked iron fence. Katie stared in astonishment when Elijah pulled up at the gate and got out to unlock it.

“You don’t live
here,
do you?” she exclaimed.

“Any complaints?” Jack countered mildly, his large hand stroking Poppy’s tiny body.

“Why didn’t you tell me? All you said was that you had ‘a house.’ I expected something considerably more modest!” She fell silent when Elijah climbed back up onto his seat.

“Kathleen, are you familiar with the expression ‘pleasant surprise’? Usually it evokes elation, smiles... that sort of thing.”

He looked so calm, even amused, as he reclined against the upholstered seat, watching her with hooded green eyes and petting the besotted Poppy. Her husband made her furious. And how could
her
kitten turn traitor this way? Poppy appeared to be enamored of Jack to the point of forgetting her mistress completely.

The carriage drew up before a handsome brick house embellished with Palladian windows, pillars, and porches. The house was flanked by cypress trees and surrounded by a graceful iron fence. Elijah got down to open the door for them, and Katie turned to Jack, intent on speaking her mind.

“I assume that your reference to the ‘pleasant surprise’ was meant to infer that I am reacting inappropriately. I do not appreciate your attempt to turn this around so that I appear to be at fault.” Her eyes blazed at him. “When I accepted your proposal of marriage, I asked you to promise not to try to rule me, and you agreed. May I suggest, sir, that your purposeful withholding of information is nothing more than a means to exercise power over me. I do not even know what your occupation is. You hold all the cards and make all the rules, but I am raising an objection. Perhaps you imagine that you have married the sort of woman who will meekly acquiesce, settling for a pat on the head and a crumb of information. If so, pray allow me to dispel that misconception. If you are unable to accord me the respect I deserve as your wife and partner, then perhaps you ought to send me back to Columbia right now!”

Jack coolly returned her glare. “That’s a tempting suggestion. I’ll think about it. In the meantime, why don’t we go inside and have supper.”

Elijah, waiting outside the carriage for the storm to pass, now opened the door and helped Katie down. As Jack passed him, he carefully avoided his employer’s eyes, but the merest suggestion of a smile tugged at his mouth. Until now, working for Jonathan Wyatt had been an ordered affair, so much so that it threatened to become tedious at times. It was also financially secure, which Elijah appreciated, but he had always hoped to see the day when someone or something would shake up the Wyatt household. Obviously that day had come, courtesy of Kathleen MacKenzie Wyatt, and Elijah could not have been more delighted.

* * *

Ambrose Summers sat on a maroon wing chair in the parlor. The cavernous, mahogany-paneled room was dark except for the small lamp at his elbow and the fire blazing in the marble fireplace. A worn copy of
David Copperfield
lay open on the curve of his belly, below which curled the fat, furry body of Harriet the cat.

Half dozing, the old man raised his head and pushed back his spectacles when the sound of male and female voices reached him from the entry hall. So, his grandson had come home at last. Summers smiled, pleased. Perhaps now Jonathan would settle in and stay put. Ambrose wasn’t particularly fond of Genevieve Braithwaite, but one couldn’t be choosy in the West, and Genevieve was the most beautiful woman in San Francisco. She’d be a proper, elegant wife, and she’d give Jack beautiful babies. That’s what the boy needed: a family. Then he’d abandon these mad jaunts to the gold country and stay home where he belonged. He’d have to be a fool to leave if Genevieve was in his bed.

Ambrose turned dreamy at the thought of becoming a great-grandfather. It would be wonderful to dandle an infant on his knee for a few minutes, then turn it back over to its parents. All the benefits of parenthood with none of the responsibilities....

“Grandfather?”

Squinting at the shadowy figure in the doorway, Ambrose struggled to sit up, but Harriet’s weight proved too great a burden.”Jack? Welcome home! Come in here and give your grandfather a proper greeting. Was that Genevieve’s voice I heard?”

“No, Grandfather.” Wyatt reached back and drew into the doorway a figure wearing what appeared to be a dark, shapeless dress, but the light was too dim to make out the woman’s identity. “There is someone I’d like to introduce to you.”