Wilderness Courtship (3 page)

Thorne had no idea how his presence had elevated her mood but he was nevertheless glad to hear of the improvement. He liked her. And so did Jacob, which was even more important. The poor boy had been through plenty already and their arduous journey was far from over. A little sunshine in his short life was certainly welcome and the woman who had cheerfully provided it ranked high on Thorne’s list of admirable people.

In the street outside the hotel, a small group of men had gathered to discuss the situation.

“They’re leaving in a few more days,” the tallest, youngest one said. “That means we have a little more time to plan.”

There was a murmur of agreement before their portly, red-haired leader spoke. “We won’t need much. We’ll move tonight.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Slip this note under Ashton’s door, then leave the rest to us.” He handed a folded slip of paper to his wiry cohort and glanced at the other two burly men who were standing by waiting for their orders. “Just make sure you’re not seen when you do it.”

“I have the room just down the hall from them. Nobody will catch me. Is that all?”

“Yes.” He started away. “And if you see any of us on the street afterward, you don’t know us. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Now go back inside and try to act natural. The hardest part will be over by morning.”

Charity couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, she arose, pulled on a lawn wrapper and tied the sash before she peeked out the door of her room to be sure no one else was up and about. The hallway was deserted.

She quickly lit a small oil lamp and tiptoed to the stairs, intending to help herself to one of the leftover cookies in the kitchen. She paused to listen intently. There were no sounds coming from any of the rooms except for Mrs. Montgomery’s familiar, loud snoring at the far end of the hotel.

Proceeding, Charity was halfway down the staircase when she overheard muffled voices and stopped in her tracks. It sounded as if the parties involved were in the sitting room, which meant that her path to the kitchen was blocked unless she chose to dart around the newel post at the ground floor and hope her passage down the side hallway went unseen.

That idea didn’t please her one iota. Dressed in a floor-length white wrapper and carrying a lit lamp, there was no way she wouldn’t be noticed.

She was still standing there, trying to decide what to do, when one of the parties below raised his voice.

“I’m not going back with you,” he said.

A response that sounded like a growl followed.

“No,” the initial speaker replied. “It’s not open to discussion. You won’t harm me. You don’t dare. Now get out of here.”

This time, the growling voice was intelligible. “I have my orders and I aim to carry them out.”

Charity wished she were back in her room, blissfully sleeping, but curiosity held her rooted to the spot. She did have the presence of mind to dim her lamp and cup her hand loosely around the glass chimney, however.

Soon there was the reverberation of a smack, followed by a heavy thud. Her heart began to hammer. It sounded as if someone—or something—had fallen.

Furniture scraped across the bare floors. Glass broke, or perhaps it was crockery, she couldn’t tell which. There was more stomping and crashing around just before the rear door slammed.

Afraid to move, she waited and listened. All she could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart and the shallow rasping of her breath.

Above her, a second door opened and closed. Footfalls echoed hollowly on the wooden floor. She sensed another presence on the stairs.

Someone grabbed her arm before she could turn and look. She started to scream. A hand clamped over her mouth and a male voice, a familiar voice, ordered, “Hush.”

Recognizing that it was Thorne, Charity nodded and he eased his hold. Instead of trying to explain what was going on she merely pointed in the direction of the parlor.

“Shush,” Thorne hissed in her ear. “Stay here.”

Grasping the banister she watched him descend as gracefully and quietly as a cat. He crouched, then whipped around the corner and disappeared.

In moments he returned. He had tucked the tails of his nightshirt into his trousers and was pulling his braces over his shoulders. “There’s no one there now,” he assured her. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” She was trembling like a silly child, but couldn’t seem to hold the lamp still even by using two hands. “I was hungry so I came down to get a cookie. The ground floor was dark. I heard voices. It sounded like an argument.”

“
Men
arguing?” Thorne asked.

“Yes. Two of them, I think. There was something rather familiar about one and the other was almost too faint to hear. I thought he sounded very menacing, though. I suppose I was just nervous because I expected to be alone.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing much. One was talking about having a job to do and the other told him he wouldn’t dare, or some such nonsense. They sounded like two schoolyard bullies.”

“Then what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see a thing from up here on the stairway. I guess there was a fight but it was over so quickly I’m not certain. I did think I heard dishes breaking just before the door slammed.”

“There is some damage in the kitchen but the place is deserted, now.” His dark eyes suddenly widened and he dashed past her to continue climbing, taking the steps two at a time.

Charity followed him straight to his brother’s room where he began to pound on the door.

“Aaron! Open up. Now.”

“Hush. You’ll wake every guest in the hotel,” Charity warned.

Instead of heeding her admonition Thorne grabbed her lamp, then kicked the door and broke the lock away from the jamb. He held the light high, illuminating a circle that encompassed most of the small room.

In the center of the glow, Charity saw Naomi sitting in bed and clutching covers that were drawn up to her neck. Beside her, the exhausted toddler barely stirred in spite of the ruckus.

“Where’s Aaron?” Thorne demanded.

“I don’t know. Someone slipped a note under our door. Aaron read it and said he had to go out.” Naomi began to sniffle. “I begged him to stay here with me but he insisted.”

“What note. Where is it?”

“I—I think he put it in his coat pocket and took it with him. Why? What’s happened?” Her breath caught. “Is, is he…”

“Dead?” Thorne muttered under his breath. “I doubt it. But I don’t think he’s in the hotel anymore, either. I strongly suspect he’s been kidnapped.”

Naomi gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Relatively. I explored the whole ground floor and he wasn’t down there. Nobody was.”

“I’ll wake Papa and send him to fetch the sheriff,” Charity said from the hallway. “We’ll search everywhere. We’ll find him.”

In her heart of hearts she hoped and prayed she was right. If Aaron remained on land there was a fair chance they would be able to locate him, especially since San Francisco was rather isolated by the surrounding hills. If he had been taken aboard one of the many vessels coming and going by sea, however, he could already be out of their reach.

It was a frightening realization. It was also the most logical escape route for anyone wanting to effect a successful kidnapping!

Chapter Three

T
horne finished dressing, pulled on his coat and joined Emory Beal as he hurried from the hotel.

“I don’t know where to start looking for the law, do you?” Thorne asked the older man.

“I’ve got a sneakin’ suspicion where the sheriff’ll be,” Emory replied. “Follow me.”

They made their way up Sacramento Street and located the lawman holding court with the mayor and half the city council in the What Cheer House saloon. A large crowd was toasting the previous day’s groundbreaking ceremonies at Presidio Hill for the soon-to-be-built municipal water system and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time drinking and eating the free food offered at the bar. A pall of smoke hung low in the stuffy room.

Thorne was glad that Emory was with him because the older man was well-known and was therefore able to readily convince the celebrants to form a vigilance committee and join in the search for Aaron.

Leaving the saloon in the company of dozens of inebriated, raucous men, Thorne jumped up on the edge of a watering trough and grabbed a porch support post for balance while he waved and shouted to command everyone’s attention.

“There will be a large reward for my brother’s return,” he yelled, pleased to hear a responsive rumbling of excitement in the crowd. “He’s a city fellow from New York so you should be able to pick him out from amongst the prospectors and immigrants. He was wearing a brown suit and vest. His hair is lighter than mine and he’s a little shorter. He has no beard or mustache. If any of you spot him, I can be reached through the Montgomery House Hotel or the freighter
Gray Feather.
She’s moored close to the main pier. Let’s go, men. Time is of the essence.”

Stepping down, he started off with the others. He would have preferred to head a sober search party but under the present circumstances he figured he was fortunate to have found a group of able-bodied men awake and willing to help at this time of night.

“It’s all Chinese down that way,” Emory told him, pointing. “Your brother’d stick out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood. The sheriff said he wants us to check the wharf while he and some of the others look in the gambling and fandango houses we still have. Come the first of April, bawdy houses’ll be banned on Dupont, Jackson and Pacific. Don’t know what this city’s comin’ to.”

“All right,” Thorne said. “I probably know the waterfront as well as most of the folks who live here.”

“Been a sailor all your life?”

“In a matter of speaking.” Thorne didn’t think this was an appropriate time to mention that he had long since graduated from employee to employer. Nor was it a good idea to flaunt his wealth in a town with a reputation for lawlessness and greed, mainly thanks to the gold rush. San Francisco had come a long way from the canvas and board shacks he remembered from 1850 but it still hadn’t managed to attain anything resembling the degree of civility Aaron and Naomi were used to back in New York.

Although Thorne’s clothing bespoke a full purse, his actual worth far exceeded the external evidence. And that was the way he wanted it. He’d found out the hard way that if a man had money there was always someone eager and willing to separate him from it, one way or another. That much, he
had
learned from Louis Ashton.

The difference was what lay in a man’s heart, not what lined his pockets, Thorne reminded himself. He would gladly pay whatever it took to get his brother back and not miss a penny of that money. Unfortunately, if Louis’s hired thugs were responsible for the abduction, he feared that Aaron’s freedom was not going to be for sale at any price.

Although Charity had wanted to join in the search, she knew better than to venture out onto the streets unescorted, especially after dark, so she had stayed behind to try to comfort Naomi.

By dawn the poor woman had sobbed herself into exhaustion and had finally fallen asleep. Although Charity was weary, too, she took pity on Jacob and kept him beside her while she did her morning chores and helped prepare breakfast for the remaining hotel guests.

Fortunately, the current Montgomery Hotel didn’t house as many souls as it had before being rebuilt. Now that they were able to offer private rooms, the income from the establishment had improved while the workload had lessened. For that, Charity was doubly thankful. She didn’t begrudge her father his ease but she sometimes did wish he’d contribute more to their daily necessities.

She shook off the negative feelings and reminded herself that she was blessed to have a roof over her head and to be in the company of a papa who loved and forgave her in spite of her folly as a younger woman. That she had survived at all was a wonderment. That she and Faith had both managed to locate their father and work together for the common good was almost miraculous, given the hardships and dangers they had faced.

Jacob had been gripping a handful of Charity’s skirt ever since she had awakened and dressed him and she had allowed it because he seemed so determined, so needy. She felt him give her apron a light tug. Smiling, she looked down and asked, “Are you hungry, dear?”

The little boy nodded and her smile grew. What a darling. The depths of his chocolate-brown eyes sparkled and his thick, dark lashes would have been the envy of any girl.

Leading him to a table in the kitchen she lifted him onto a chair and said, “My, what a big boy you are. You sit here and I’ll fetch your breakfast before we serve the others so you can eat first. Would you like that?”

Again he nodded and grinned, showing even, white teeth and dimples.

“You’re spoiling that child,” Annabelle Montgomery said as she kneaded dough on the opposite end of the table. “Not that I blame you. He’s a cute one, all right. And such a little man. So brave, what with his…” She broke off and glanced at the ceiling.

“Yes, I know,” Charity answered. “I’ve explained that his mama is ailing. Jacob is going to stay with me today so she can rest.”

“Good idea. I don’t suppose he’d like some flapjacks and homemade jam.”

The little boy’s head nodded so hard his dark curls bounced.

“My, my,” the proprietress said, “looks like he just might. While this dough rises a bit I’ll run out to the spring house and fetch some cool milk.”

“I should do that for you,” Charity said.

“Not this morning. You’re needed here.” Annabelle’s gentle gaze rested on the child and she shook her head slowly, sadly. “Perhaps we’ll hear from our Emory soon and we can all relax. I’ve been prayin’ hard ever since he left.”

“So have I.” Laying her hand atop the boy’s head Charity stroked his silky hair. “I meant for Papa to find the sheriff and then come home but I should have known he’d want to stay and help in the search. I just worry about him, that’s all.”

“So do I,” the portly proprietress said.

To Charity’s amazement she thought she glimpsed moisture in Annabelle Montgomery’s eyes as the other woman wheeled and left the room.

Thorne returned with Emory several hours later. Charity had set aside biscuits, as well as extra servings of ham and a bowl of red-eye gravy, assuming they’d be famished when they finally came home.

She was seated in a rocker in the hotel parlor, Jacob asleep in her arms, when the two men walked in.

Thorne approached her while Emory headed upstairs.

“Did you find your brother?” she asked.

“No. The sheriff is still keeping an eye open but there was no sign of him in any of the usual places.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“There are plates of food waiting for you and Papa in the warming oven over the stove,” she said, continuing her slow, steady rocking. “I’d get up and serve you but as you can see, I’m otherwise occupied.”

Thorne’s overall expression was weary, yet a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Poor Jacob’s probably as tired as the rest of us,” he said, gazing fondly at the child. “I don’t know what we’re going to tell him about all this.”

“I wouldn’t say anything, for now,” Charity suggested. “He’s too young to understand the details and I don’t see any reason to upset him needlessly.”

“How’s Naomi?”

“The last time I looked in on her she was sleeping. She wore herself out last night.”

“Little wonder.” He had already removed his hat and he raked his fingers through his wavy, uncombed hair as he paced the sitting room. “I wish I knew what to do next.”

“Eat,” Charity said sensibly. “You have to keep up your strength for whatever trials are to come. Seems to me you’re the only member of your family capable of making wise decisions or taking any useful action.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Miss Beal. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what Naomi or Jacob would have done without you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Watching him leave the room she smiled knowingly. She hadn’t expected Thorne to include himself in the gracious compliment but she could tell that he was as in need of her assistance as the rest of his party. His self-confident nature wouldn’t let him admit as much, of course, but she was content with knowing it was true.

The child in her lap stirred, blinked up through sleepy eyes and snuggled closer.

Charity hugged him to her and began to pray silently for his future. The way things looked now he was going to have a rough road ahead and she wished mightily that she could do more than merely comfort and care for him for the time being.

She laid her cheek against the top of his head and whispered, “He’s yours, Father. Please bless and guide and watch over him.”

A solitary tear slid from her eye and dropped onto the boy’s hair. So young.
So innocent. Oh, dear God, help him.

The ensuing days seemed to pass in a blur. Men of all kinds and all classes, including several of the hotel guests whom Thorne had originally deemed unfriendly, kept popping in to update him on the search. He had set up an office of sorts on the end of the counter behind which the desk clerk also stood so he could keep all the reports straight. It was his goal to speak personally with each and every searcher and thereby leave no stone unturned.

Upstairs, Naomi had taken to her bed and the doctor had diagnosed her condition as lingering hysteria. Thorne wasn’t sure that was all there was to it. He’d seen plenty of people overcome by grief and disaster but he’d never known one to lapse into a state of near helplessness the way his sister-in-law had.

Thorne thanked God that Charity Beal had so readily assumed the role of his nephew’s caretaker because he didn’t know how he’d have adequately looked after everyone else and managed to coordinate a systematic search for Aaron at the same time.

A week had passed and they’d fallen into a routine that varied little from hour to hour, day to day. That was why Thorne was so astonished to suddenly see Naomi descending the stairs. She was dressed to go out and acting as if nothing unusual had happened.

Wearing her favorite traveling dress, a matching, ostrich-plumed hat and white lace, fingerless gloves, she carried only her reticule. Instead of approaching and greeting Thorne as he’d expected, she headed straight for the front door.

“Naomi!” he called. “Where are you going?”

She turned a blank stare toward him, said nothing, then continued out onto the boarded walkway.

As Thorne prepared to follow her he was detained by one of the regular hotel residents. He made short work of the tall, thin man’s inane questions but by the time he reached the front door of the hotel, Naomi was already strolling away on another man’s arm as if nothing was amiss.

Thorne raced after them and shouted, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” He was nearly upon the pair before he recognized Naomi’s beefy, reddish haired escort as one of the most recently arrived hotel guests.

The man paused and turned with a cynical expression. “The lady wanted to take a walk and I’m looking after her. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, under normal circumstances,” Thorne replied. “But in this case I must insist we all return to the hotel. Immediately.”

“No. I’m going home,” Naomi said as if in a fog.

Thorne had touched her free arm to stop her from proceeding and was glaring at the other man when Charity joined them, toting Jacob on one hip.

The boy’s enthusiastic squeal brought no visible reaction from his mother.

“What’s the matter with her?” Charity asked Thorne.

“I don’t know.” He continued to gently restrain Naomi and she made no effort to escape. She also didn’t seem to recognize her own son.

Ignoring the two men who appeared about to come to blows, Charity concentrated on Naomi and spoke gently. “Where are you going, dear?”

“To see my mama and papa.” She sounded as if she, herself, were a child.

“Why don’t we go inside and sit down to talk about it,” Charity said. “You’d like to tell me about your trip, wouldn’t you? I’d love to hear all about your parents. I know they’re wonderful people. Aren’t they missionaries to the Indians?”

“Yes,” Naomi said. Her determination seemed to be wavering, so Thorne exerted a gentle pressure on her arm, guiding her away from the other man and back the way they’d all come.

Following, Charity whispered to Jacob. “Mama’s still sick, dear. I know she loves you very much but she isn’t herself right now.”

In response, the confused child wrapped his pudgy arms around Charity’s neck and laid his head on her shoulder. Her heart ached for him. In the space of a few brief days and nights she had grown to love the little darling as if he were her own and it pained her to see him so rejected and forlorn.

Leaving the portly, confused-looking man behind, Thorne led Naomi to the settee in the parlor where she perched primly on the edge of the velvet-covered cushions as if she were visiting strangers.

“I can’t stay long,” she said, removing her gloves and tucking them into her reticule. “Mama is waiting for me and she doesn’t like it when I’m late for supper.”

“Where is your mother?” Charity asked.

“Just up the road, I think.” Naomi frowned momentarily. “I’m not really sure. I seem to be lost. But I know Mama will take care of me as soon as I can get home. She loves me, you know.”