Steadfast Heart (9 page)

“A sailor?” The words almost stuck in her throat. “May I see him?”

“Oh, miss, that wouldn't be appropriate,” he replied.

“But I know many of these old men. I care for them, give them food and clothes. I've been unable to locate one particular man who was quite faithful to visit me. It might be him.”

The officer looked to Aunt Miriam as if for permission. The older woman nodded. “It's most irregular but perhaps necessary. It won't be easy, Abrianna. The man was beaten about the head. It was terribly severe.”

“I understand.” Abrianna drew in a deep breath and bolstered her courage. “Take me to him.”

Wade had just completed securing a new felloe to the spokes of a wagon wheel when Abrianna burst into the room in sobs.
She ran to him and threw herself into his arms before Wade could even put the wooden mallet down.

“What's wrong? Is it one of the aunts?”

She shook her head and continued to cry. Wade was at a loss. She had wrapped her arms around him and clung to him as if she were a drowning woman. Uncertain what else to do, Wade patted her shoulder and then hugged her close.

“It's going to be all right, Abrianna. Don't cry. Just tell me what's happened.”

She straightened and fixed her teary gaze on Wade. “It's . . . it's Charlie.”

“You found him? Is he sick?”

“No.” She barely got the word out before another round of tears took hold.

Wade was now fearful of what she would say. Abrianna had the strength to endure most anything. He had seen her cry only a handful of times, and always it had been something most grave.

“Is he dead?” Wade forced himself to ask.

She nodded, never moving her gaze. “Someone . . . they . . . beat him. Oh, Wade, someone killed Charlie.”

Knowing that he would have to get Abrianna to calm down before he could know the full story, Wade moved her to a chair and made her sit. He retrieved a cup of water for her and held it to her lips. She drank only a little, but it seemed to help. Next Wade handed her his handkerchief, and Abrianna dried her eyes and cheeks. Little by little Wade could see her regain her composure. When at last she was breathing normally and the tears had stopped, Wade felt he could press her for answers.

“What happened, Abrianna?”

She squared her shoulders. “Someone killed Charlie.”

“How do you know this?”

“It happened in our alleyway at the school. Mrs. Madison said one of the men downstairs discovered him. Someone . . .” She paused and seemed to fight to keep from crying again. Her lip quivered and she bit down on it momentarily before continuing.

“He was beaten and left for dead.” She shook her head. “They didn't know who he was, but I did. I just had a feeling it was him.” Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn't break down. “The policeman had me identify him.”

Wade frowned, unable to reason the sense in letting an innocent girl view a dead body. “That must have been terrible for you. I wish they could have spared you.”

“I thought I had known sadness and pain before now, but I was wrong. Poor Charlie. He never did anything to hurt anyone.”

“Do they think someone meant to rob him?” Wade asked. The idea of someone setting out to deliberately kill the old man seemed unlikely.

“Charlie had nothing to steal.”

“Someone might have thought he did,” Wade replied. “I'm sure there are men desperate enough to rob even an old sailor. Then again, he may have annoyed someone and gotten himself into a fight. Perhaps he made his way afterward to the Madison Building, knowing he could get help, but it was too late.”

“It makes no sense,” she said. “Charlie was a good man. He was kind to everyone. He did nothing to deserve this.”

“Folks seldom do anything to deserve that kind of a death.” Wade wanted so much to comfort Abrianna, but he knew she had to process this pain, and that would take time. “Do they have any clues at all?”

Abrianna shook her head slowly. “They have no idea. No one heard or saw anything.”

This disturbed Wade even more. “So we have a killer roaming the streets of Seattle.”

“Apparently so.” Her face changed from pain to anger. “I won't rest until I know who is responsible.”

“You can hardly involve yourself in this.” Wade knew his words were most likely futile. He might as well try to convince his wooden mallet. Even so, the dangers were much too great to ignore. “I don't want you to be out by yourself anymore, especially not in coming here. Do you understand?”

“I do not,” she answered. “Charlie was our friend. We can't just sit around and do nothing.”

“Abrianna, whoever did this is dangerous and will most likely stop at nothing. If he'd kill an old man, he'd probably kill a woman just as well. You can't risk your life. Charlie wouldn't want it that way, and you know it.”

To his surprise Abrianna hiked up her skirt to reveal the lower portion of her stocking-clad legs. Wade looked away quickly but not before he saw the flash of metal.

“I have a knife,” she declared, and Wade couldn't help but look back. Abrianna pointed to where she'd strapped a knife to her slender calf. “I can take care of myself. If this murderer attacks me, he won't find me as helpless as he did Charlie.”

“Abrianna, you cannot fight off a killer.”

“I can, and if necessary I will,” she said, jumping to her feet, knife in hand. “See how quick I can move?”

Wade could think of only one way to prove his point. With the speed of a cat, he lunged at her, knocking the knife from her hand. In no more than a moment he had her encircled with his arms and pinned her backward against him even as she fought his hold.

He easily put his hand to her throat. “Do you see what I'm
talking about? A desperate man would do more than this. You can't risk getting hurt or killed. It would break Charlie's heart . . . and mine.”

She stopped fighting and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Wade released her. “I'm sorry I was so rough.”

“I hate being a woman. Women are always at the mercy of men.”

Wade hoped she would now talk rationally with him about the matter. Instead, she headed for the door without another word.

“Abrianna, wait a minute. Talk to me.”

She turned with a look he'd never seen on her face. It appeared to be bitterness, almost contempt—but for whom he didn't know.

“You've already shown me I have nothing I can do. I don't want to talk about it anymore. There's nothing to be gained by such a discussion.”

K
olbein Booth stood in the room watching the young ladies of the bridal school perform as a choir at the Saturday reception. They sang several hymns while one of the girls played the piano and another the flute. The melodious sound was pleasant enough, but Kolbein couldn't ease his mind no matter how hard he tried.

Somewhere, his sister was lost among the masses of people in Seattle. At least he hoped most fervently that she was still in the city. He hadn't allowed himself to even contemplate otherwise. The song ended and the girls took their seats while Mrs. Madison walked to the front of the room.

“As you ladies already know, we have received some new bridal prospects into the school.” She motioned three young ladies to stand. “This is Iona, Ruth, and Catherine. I hope you will make them welcome. And gentlemen, I hope you will get to know these three today.”

Kolbein found the entire situation rather silly. Couldn't people meet each other without the help of a matchmaker? Although he knew from things he'd read that west of the Mississippi women were still less in number than their male counterparts,
the cities were by no means deplete. Even so, Mrs. Madison apparently provided a needed service, for the school had served to support her and the others for some years. Perhaps it was the idea that getting a wife who was well trained in the social graces as well as in keeping a house in proper order was worth the money men paid to participate in Mrs. Madison's receptions and bridal ball.

“You look deep in thought,” Abrianna said, coming alongside him. “Are you thinking about Greta?”

“I scarce can think of anyone else. I fear for her, Abrianna. I cannot lie. The murder of your friend set my heart to even deeper concern.” Her expression looked pained, and he immediately apologized. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reminded you of your loss.”

“No one needs to remind me. I suppose it's especially difficult because it's the first loss of a friend. Well, really my first close death. I was too young to remember my mother dying.”

“I can understand how hard this must be. Losing people you care about is difficult on many levels.”

“Just like losing Greta?”

“Exactly so.” Kolbein pulled out his pocket watch. He longed to go searching for his sister, but it almost seemed futile. He had people watching for her all over the city, and he hoped that she would be wise enough to stay away from the worst areas of the town, where a woman was certain to be assaulted, if not killed.

“I know you're not a rich man,” Abrianna began, “but perhaps if you offered a reward someone might come forward with news. I fear the police in this town are somewhat remiss at times. There have been occasions when our police forces were less than honorable. Not only that, but I find that people generally respond better with an incentive than without, and money always
seems to be the one thing that motivates. Of course, that isn't the way I think things should be done, but no one ever consults me on such matters.” She barely paused for breath, and again Kolbein found himself amazed at how her thoughts just jumped from one to another without any kind of barrier.

“A reward would show people that this was a serious situation, because when money is involved, people tend to get very serious. Perhaps because of the burden it presents either in its presence or its lack. But if I've spoken out of turn, forgive me. I didn't mean to further your burden.”

Kolbein didn't find his financial state to be troublesome, but he didn't attempt to set the young woman straight. He had long hidden the fact that he and Greta had inherited a vast sum upon their parents' death. The only real sign of luxury he had allowed himself was to send Greta to boarding school, and he'd done that out of selfish desire.

“I had never really thought of a reward, but you are right. We could post flyers about the town, and maybe someone who would otherwise not look for her would seek her for the money.”

“It's possible. It's also possible that people might treat her better if she's fallen in with the wrong crowd or taken a position . . . somewhere.” Abrianna put her hand to her mouth and then dropped it down again. “I'm sorry. I spoke amiss. Mrs. Madison said I've always been this way. One of my earliest entanglements was to berate a man at church. Mrs. Madison said I was only three and a half and didn't like the man's cologne, so I proceeded to tell him he smelled bad.” Abrianna sighed. “As you can see, I am always saying things that would be best left unsaid.”

Kolbein had already worried about the positions his sister might have taken in order to care for her needs. He had made
himself sick over the possibility. “I know you meant no harm. Believe me, you can't possibly suggest a fate that I haven't already considered.”

Abrianna touched his coat sleeve. “I've been praying about it considerably. I want very much for you to find Greta. I find prayer to be the best way to ease the worried soul.”

“I've not prayed in years,” Kolbein admitted. “I don't imagine God would listen to me. After all, I've not been good to heed His promptings.”

Before Abrianna could say another word, a gentleman approached Kolbein. “Mr. Booth, please excuse the interruption. I wondered if I might have a word.”

Kolbein looked to Abrianna, but her gaze was fixed across the room and she shook her head. “Oh dear. I see Mr. Welby has appeared. I'm afraid I shall have to spend some time with him. Please excuse me.”

Watching Abrianna make her way to where Welby stood was akin to watching a lamb be led to slaughter. The young woman's displeasure seemed acute, and he couldn't imagine why she'd throw herself into the man's company if she hated it so. Kolbein didn't have time to contemplate it for long, however. His companion seemed most eager to speak.

“My name is Heatherstone. Cyrus Heatherstone. I was told by Mrs. Madison that you are a lawyer who works with corporate and government cases, among other types of law.”

“I do,” Kolbein replied.

“I wonder if you are considering a permanent arrangement here in Seattle? Mrs. Madison said you were from Chicago but are here seeking to find your sister.”

“I am.” Kolbein eyed the man with serious intent. “What are you proposing, Mr. Heatherstone?”

The man smiled. “My firm is Heatherstone, Heatherstone, and Blunt. My father and I started the firm, and Mr. Blunt joined us just last year. However, we find ourselves inundated with work. In particular, some problems for several of the larger businesses in town. We are in need of someone who understands the workings of patent issues, the abolition of protective taxes, fishing rights, and such. I would very much like to speak with you about the possibility of your coming to work for us. Mrs. Madison has spoken highly of your character, and I'm certain that should you be interested in accepting, we can retrieve letters of reference from your employer and can compensate you in accordance.”

Kolbein considered the offer for a moment. “I am unable to say for certain at this time, but I would be open to discussing the possibility with you and your partners. I have considered a prolonged stay in the area, but there's really no telling how long that might entail.”

“No matter, Mr. Booth. Here's my card. Come to this address on Thursday, if that is convenient to you.”

Kolbein nodded. “I have no pressing appointments. What time would work well for you and the others?”

“Shall we say eight o'clock in the morning? We have some court appointments in the late morning and afternoon.”

“I will be there,” Kolbein said, giving the man a slight bow.

Heatherstone walked away, leaving Kolbein curious about this turn of events. Abrianna had spoken of praying for answers, as had Mrs. Madison. Kolbein hadn't been much involved with religious matters since he'd been a young man. The last time he had attended services in a church had been at the funeral rites given for his parents. Abrianna had suggested he pray to find his sister. She'd suggested this on many occasions, but
Kolbein hadn't really given it much consideration until now. With Heatherstone's proposal, Kolbein found several of his concerns mastered. If he were to remain in Seattle and take up a position with their firm, it would expand his circle of acquaintances and friends. Having the ear of the public officials just might be the connection he needed. And once he found Greta, they could decide for themselves whether to remain in Seattle or return to Chicago.

Just then another young woman's image came to mind. Kolbein could almost see her there in the room with the others. Her brown eyes always seemed to take in everything at once, and her mind was quick. He'd experienced that in conversation with the young woman. But why should she come to mind just now?

Kolbein frowned
. I don't
want to return to Chicago. I want to find Greta
and then win Miss Fulcher's heart.
The thought startled him. How could he feel something so deep—so permanent—for one whom he'd just met and knew very little about? It went against everything he stood for. His very nature demanded a detailed knowledge of the things in which he found interest. Of course, Abrianna had told him a good deal about Miss Fulcher, so perhaps he knew enough. Even so, he hadn't thought himself the marrying type . . . until now.

Lenore stood by the hotel window and sighed. How she longed for home and the company of Kolbein Booth. The longer they were separated, the more she thought of him. He even haunted her dreams, and now she felt more certain than ever that they were meant to be together.

She could clearly see the future in her imagination. A grand house, beautiful furnishings, children, and servants. They would
move among the socialites and be ever so devoted to Seattle's betterment. She shook her head, knowing that none of it would matter one whit if Kolbein Booth wasn't a part of it. James Rybus was a nice enough man, but her heart and thoughts were with Kolbein.

She toyed with the drapery and watched the heavy flow of traffic on the street below. Was he thinking of her just as much as she was of him? She knew Abrianna would be doing her best to convince Kolbein of her virtues—at least Lenore hoped so. Her friend could be most inconveniently distracted at times.

“What are you looking at?” Father asked as he came into the common area of the hotel suite.

“Nothing in particular,” Lenore replied, turning to face him. “I was just contemplating several matters.”

“Such as?” He fixed her with a look that let Lenore know he expected an answer.

“I long for home.”

“We won't be detained too much longer. I'm sorry that my business here was complicated and extended our stay; however, my attention to the details was critical.”

Lenore smiled and went to her father's side. “I'm sure that it was, Father. I'm sorry if I troubled you with my desires.”

He returned her smile. “Not at all.”

“I suppose it does worry me as to how a man might ask to court me if we are not even in the city to receive him.”

“Your young man, eh?”

“Yes. You gave us only a month to work with, and for most of that time we've not even been in Seattle.”

“Very well,” Father said. “If that has you vexed, I will reset the time to be one month from our return. I'm not, after all, an ogre who would see his only child miserable. James Rybus was
only a suggestion because . . . well, because he's been a loyal worker and good friend. I have to admit, I've been concerned that you marry well. I'm afraid a great many men will only be interested in your fortune. Upon my death you'll not only have the trust left to you by your grandparents, but you and your mother will also inherit my vast holdings.”

“I know that, Father, but I'm not without my standards and values. I would never allow a man to form his opinion of me based on my financial situation. Mr. Booth isn't like that at all. He makes a good living as a lawyer in Chicago.” She had no idea if he did or not, but Lenore assumed it to be true and figured it best to suggest that it was.