Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by Locke, M. Louisa

  “You little spoiled brat. I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re mine, and I’m going teach you how to obey your pa.” Bobby Norman held Jamie by the scruff of the neck, his fury visible in the bulging veins on either side of his neck. He then shifted to a high, mincing voice, saying, “‘Don’t touch the baby. He’s delicate. Don’t give the boy a beating. He didn’t mean to wake you.’ Stupid woman, coddling you and turning you against me.” He then jerked Jamie closer, slapped him hard, and pushed him towards Barbara.

  Jamie ran to his mother and wrapped his arms around her. His father looked over at the two of them in disgust, then in two strides he was at Laura’s side. She struggled to shift away from him as she heard him say, “God damn it, boy. If you don’t believe me, how about I just slit this bitch’s throat and throw her overboard now? She wasn’t part of my plan anyway. Then you might believe me when I say that if you don’t do what I want, I’ll kill your mother.”

  As he pulled Laura upright, she heard Barbara scream, but the knife in Bobby’s hand was all she could see. He moved the knife towards her neck, and she tried to twist away. Then she heard someone shout her name, and Bobby let go of his grip on her. She slid back down into a sitting position. When she looked up, she saw that Seth Timmons had appeared out of nowhere and was struggling with Bobby, trying to get his knife. The two men were so alike in size, and so ferocious was their battle for control, that she couldn’t follow whose fist punched whose face as they ricocheted around the small confined space.

  Finally, when their bodies slammed into a column of crates that tumbled on top of them, they separated, panting. Seth pulled his gun out of his holster and pointed it at Bobby, saying, “It’s over. Put down the knife.”

  Bobby cursed, leaned over, and grabbed Jamie from where he cowered with his mother, putting his knife to the boy’s throat. He snarled out, “If I can’t have my boy here on earth, I’ll take him to hell with me. Go ahead and shoot, and I’ll slit his throat before the bullet leaves your gun.”

  Time froze, and Laura watched Seth calculate the risks. Bobby, his eyes dead calm, held Jamie square in front of him with the knife pointed a hair’s breath away from the boy’s jugular. As the seconds ticked by, Bobby smiled and said, “I didn’t think so. I could tell you’re not the kind to chance killing the boy to save yourself. Put the gun down and slide it towards me.”

  Seth slowly crouched down, put the gun on the floor, and slid it across, never taking his eyes off of Bobby and Jamie. Laura tried to scream, the noise coming out around the gag as a moan. Seth glanced over at her just long enough for Bobby to push Jamie aside, swoop down and grab the gun, and come up shooting. Seth clutched at his side as he stumbled back and then fell. Laura tried to get up so she could go to him, but Bobby knocked her aside and casually walked over to where Seth lay, pointing the gun at his head. With horror, Laura saw him start to cock the hammer when from somewhere in the dark came the sound of a second gun shot. Bobby Norman jerked back and then slowly toppled to the ground. Out of that darkness came her brother and Patrick McGee, his revolver still smoking.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Late Saturday evening, February 14, 1880

  "Wry Fate denies me joy,

  But Venus' boy

  Still strings my heart-strings to his bow:

  The thrill whene'er his arrows go,

  O Fate, how can I view thee?

  O Love, how still pursue thee?”

  ––Love and Fate, by anonymous, A Masque of Poets, 1878

  Laura sat alongside Seth’s hospital bed and waited for him to open his eyes. His skin was pale, his dark curved mustache providing a stark contrast. She couldn’t help but remember Hattie lying in this same hospital just a month ago with, as far as she could tell, the same black-robed Sister of Mercy sitting quietly in the corner. The sister had assured her that Seth would be fine, that the bullet had only nicked a rib and exited cleanly, and that he would be released in the morning. But when Nate tried to get her to leave, she’d insisted on staying until Seth woke. She wanted him to know she hadn’t abandoned him.

  Annie, who’d followed them to St. Mary’s after safely depositing Barbara and the two boys at home, had brought a shawl for her. She’d had the foresight to predict that Laura wouldn’t want to keep her brown coat on, soaked as it was in Seth’s blood. Such a clever, thoughtful friend. Laura wrapped the shawl more tightly around herself, wincing from the pain in her shoulders caused by having had her hands tied behind her back for so long. She looked down at her wrists, thankful that there didn’t seem to be anything but bruises, and they could be hidden under the decorative ruffles on her cuffs.

  “Miss Dawson?” The words were hesitant, slightly slurred, but Seth looked alert as he used his right arm to push himself up to a sitting position. He also grimaced, so she knew he was in pain.

  “I believe that you called me Laura earlier tonight, a familiarity that seems warranted, given that you saved my life, Mr. Timmons.” Laura smiled and pulled her chair closer.

  He reached over and gently touched the side of her mouth. “You’re all right? He…who was he? What did he want with you?”

  Laura told him briefly about Bobby Norman, Barbara’s abusive husband, and his determination to take his son away, and his threats to kill both of them if Jamie didn’t cooperate. She said, “He was the man who attacked me in the alley. I recognized his voice, so it wasn’t Buck.”

  Seth nodded. “No chance of running into Buck any time soon, in any event. I tracked down his uncle this afternoon. That’s why I was in North Beach. His uncle sent Buck home two days ago in disgrace for stealing from his uncle’s cash box.”

  Laura thought how strange that Buck now seemed like such a harmless boy in comparison to Bobby Norman. She then asked, “How did you know we were on the ship? Nate said you weren’t with him and Patrick.”

  Seth looked away. Then he smoothed his mustache and looked steadily into her eyes. “I was passing by Meiggs Wharf on the way home from seeing Buck’s uncle and noticed the boys…recognized them from Woodward’s Gardens. Thought you would want to know about Buck, so I just hung out near the entrance, waiting for a chance to speak to you.”

  Laura, remembering their last encounter, could understand his reluctance to approach her. She said, “And you saw Jamie get pulled onto the ship?”

  “No, I missed that. I did see the other boy running off towards town and you and the other woman going on board the ship, which seemed odd. So I waited. I could see there was a sailor hanging about on the gangway. That would be normal if most of the crew were on shore leave, but when he pulled up the gangplank and disappeared from sight, I got worried. I spent a year on a China clipper, so I knew how to get aboard. When I ran into the sailor I’d seen and he wouldn’t tell me where you were, I put him out of commission. But it took some time to search the decks and find you. I’m truly sorry I took so long.”

  “Better late than never,” Laura said, then felt enormously stupid. What do you say to a man who saved you from having your throat slit?

  “That man, that policeman, was the real hero. He’s a good friend of yours?” Seth asked her. “I thought I saw him with you at Woodward’s Gardens.”

  “I wouldn’t really call Patrick McGee a good friend,” Laura said, not sure why that was important to establish. She continued. “I mean, he is Mrs. O’Rourke’s nephew. You met her the other evening. She’s Mrs. Fuller’s cook and housekeeper. He’s also courting Kathleen, who you met as well.”

  “He certainly saved my bacon. When you see him, tell him I owe him.”

  Laura thought of how much she owed Patrick as well.

  Silence ensued. Seeing the lines on Seth’s face deepen, Laura knew she shouldn’t stay any longer. But there was one more task she needed to accomplish, since she didn’t know when she would see him again. She repeated to him what Nate and Annie had told her earlier while Seth was in surgery, about Della Thorndike and the anonymous letters and the role the insane woman had played in
Hattie’s death.

  The distress in Seth’s grey eyes echoed her own feelings, so she said, “I know that this doesn’t lessen the pain of losing Hattie…for either of us. But I thought it might help to know that Hattie’s faith in Andrew Russell wasn’t unwarranted. You were right, she was happy. I was selfish to question that happiness.”

  Laura took the edge of the shawl and blotted the tears that were falling despite her best intentions. No wonder he thinks of me as a child. I’m either crying or having a temper tantrum. She took a deep breath and said, “And I want you to know I appreciate that you felt bound by your promise to Hattie to look after me…although I’m sure she never thought you’d end up being shot in that service. I think that you’ve more than fulfilled your promise to her, so you are no longer under any obligation to…” She stopped, not really knowing what to say next.

  Seth gently touched her bruised wrist, and she noticed how the back of his hand was criss-crossed by faint scar lines. She wondered if she would ever hear the stories about those scars, or his year on a China clipper ship, or what it was like to be a soldier in the war and survive Andersonville Prison.

  Seth interrupted those thoughts with a chuckle. “I must say Miss Dawson…Laura, your first year of teaching has turned out a darn sight more eventful than our pedagogy teachers at San Jose predicted.”

  Laura laughed. “Well, thank you for helping me survive it all.”

  “Miss…Laura,” Seth hesitated and withdrew his hand from hers. “I may have started out visiting you at Cupertino Creek school because of a promise to Miss Wilks, but in a short time it became my pleasure. I was hoping we might be able to take another buggy ride in the future.”

  Laura smiled and wondered what Hattie would have said about that.

  *****

  “Laura took the news that Della Thorndike probably had a hand in Hattie’s death better than I thought she would,” Nate said to Annie as they walked down the hospital corridor to the alcove they’d found the last time they visited St. Mary’s Hospital.

  Annie leaned on his arm, her fatigue starting to overwhelm her. “Almost getting killed herself today may have put it all in a different perspective.”

  “I thought that would make it worse. But she was amazingly calm on the carriage ride over here, concentrating on trying to stop Timmons from bleeding. No hysteria, no tears. Then we tell her about Miss Thorndike, and she says, ‘Well, that explains a good deal, doesn’t it?’” Nate’s voice was incredulous.

  Annie sighed as she sat down on the alcove bench. “For good or ill, your little sister has had to do a lot of growing up these past few weeks. I think that what Laura feared the most was the idea that Hattie may have killed herself or deliberately tried to end her pregnancy. She’s probably relieved to learn that Hattie was killed by someone else, whether deliberately or not. Most likely, though, she is just feeling numb. I would not be surprised if later on there isn’t some sort of delayed emotional reaction to everything that has happened today.”

  “I just hope she doesn’t do a complete turn-around and decide to fall in love with Timmons,” Nate commented. “As is, I don’t know what to tell my parents.”

  That made Annie laugh. Putting her hand on Nate’s cheek, she said, “If she does, it won’t be surprising. I can testify to how appealing a man can be who rescues you from a nasty ruffian with a knife.”

  Nate looked uncomfortable and then chuckled. “I certainly wasn’t the hero today; that was Patrick.”

  “You should have seen the look on Kathleen’s face when I told her about it.” Annie smiled. “Proud doesn’t begin to describe it. He’s certainly going to get a hero’s welcome when he returns to the boarding house. There aren’t going to be any repercussions to him for killing Barbara’s husband, are there?”

  “Can’t imagine there will be. First of all, he did report the kidnapping on the way to the wharf. And I will make it clear to the police when I give my testimony tomorrow that if Patrick hadn’t fired when he did, Seth Timmons would be dead.”

  Annie shook her head. “Oh Nate, it must have been awful.”

  “The worst thing was not knowing who the man fighting with Seth was. You said his name was Bobby Norman? When we first came on the scene, Timmons and this Norman were fighting over a knife. Far as I knew, Seth could have been Laura’s attacker and this other fellow was defending her.”

  “How did Patrick know to shoot Barbara’s husband?”

  “When Norman put the knife to Jamie’s throat and then shot Timmons, it became pretty obvioius that Norman was the aggressor. Then, when Laura tried to get to Timmons, and Norman kicked her aside and stood over Seth with the gun, I shouted, 'Stop him' at Patrick, who already had his gun out, and he did.”

  Annie shivered, having trouble picturing Patrick, who always looked about twelve to her, killing someone. Thank goodness his Aunt Beatrice would know how to help him get his bearings after everything settled down.

  Nate looked over at her and said, “How is Mrs. Hewitt? You couldn’t get her to come to the hospital?”

  “No. She insisted that she and Jamie were just bruised. She did have a cut on her scalp, but it seemed shallow. Beatrice and Kathleen will make sure that both of them get baths and hot milk and will tuck them up in bed. But they, like Laura, may need a lot of care over the coming months. Jamie in particular. Poor brave boy.”

  Nate took up Annie’s hand and traced the lines on her palms. “Don’t you wish you could really tell the future by looking at these lines? I was thinking about Barbara Hewitt. We were all so busy worrying about Laura’s safety when it was she and Jamie who were really in danger. Laura told me as we rode to the hospital that Norman was definitely the man who attacked her in the alley. He must have thought she was Mrs. Hewitt, since Jamie was with her. They are of a similar height and build.”

  “The threatening letter that Barbara received might very well have come from her husband. That would explain why it was such a different style from the other anonymous notes.” Annie shook her head sadly. “She must have spent all these years fearful that if the truth about her name came out that he would find her. And then her fears came true.” Annie paused. “For her sake, I’m glad he’s dead. Imagine the nightmare of trying to get a divorce from him and living in terror that he would get custody of Jamie.”

  “How could she have married such a man?” Nate said.

  Annie shook her head again, the memories of her own bad choices flooding in. “She was young. Her parents had just died, and she was desperate. He might not have shown his violent side until after they married. I certainly didn’t see that side to John until afterwards.”

  “Your husband hit you?” Nate’s voice was tight with anger.

  “Yes, but only once, and only after my father died. But he could be cruel in so many other ways that the physical pain was actually a relief,” Annie said quietly, knowing Nate deserved to hear the truth. Somehow, just saying this made all the other secrets she’d been keeping, pointless.

  She went on, saying quietly, “One of the worst things he did was hide from me the knowledge that my father was dying, so that I couldn’t be with him at the end. I now think John was afraid I would convince my father to change the terms of his will so he wouldn’t have control over my fortune. But, you see, what neither John nor my father knew is that I was pregnant, and when I got the terrible telegram telling me of my father’s death, the shock was so great that I lost the child.”

  Annie felt Nate’s arms surround her, and she sobbed for the poor young woman she’d been and for her lost child. After some time, as her crying abated, she heard him whisper, “I’m so very sorry, Annie. No wonder you are reluctant to put your trust in any man.”

  Annie pulled back in order to see his face clearly. He looked so sad that she couldn’t bear it. “Oh Nate, that’s not true any longer. What I have learned is that I just need to do a better job of choosing the right man to trust.” She gave him a swift hug, noticing a crackling sound when she did so.


  “Nate, the valentine I made you! Is it in your pocket?”

  He looked surprised, putting his hand in his inner coat pocket and pulling out the rather crumpled card. “I guess I stuffed it there when Ian and Kathleen came to tell us about Jamie. And I never got to take you out to eat.”

  “Well you should read the card now. I worked awfully hard on it.” She tried to make light of her request, but her heart began to thump painfully.

  Nate complimented her on the hearts on the front of the card with an admirably straight face. Then he turned the card over and began to read the poem out loud in a self-conscious voice, until he got to the last line she had written, just this afternoon.

  He looked at her, then back down, and finally he said the line out-loud, haltingly. “Dear Nate, if you ask me again, I will say yes.”

  So he did, and she did.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to express my appreciation to all the family and friends who gave their support during the writing of this book. As always, my beta readers have made this a better book than I could have achieved on my own, so thanks to my writer’s group, Ann Elwood, Abigail Padgett, and Janice Steinberg; my Historical Fiction Authors Cooperative friends, V. R. Christensen, Iva Polansky, and Elisabeth Storrs; my fans, Pat McClintick, and Kilian Metcalf, and my friends Jim and Victoria Brown, Sally Hawkins, and Kathy Austin. I want to give special thanks to Misty Walker who found the images that went into the cover, and to Michelle Huffaker who continues to produce such wonderful covers, and to my editor, Jessica Meigs who has the eye for detail I lack.