When Annie had asked if there was any reason Seth chose to contact her today—if something specific had occurred––she told Annie about her impromptu decision to stop by Hank’s Restaurant the week before last and why she left when she saw Orrie with Seth. “He wouldn’t have noticed me, but I guess Orrie did. Evidently, she just told him this morning that I was there.”
“Ah, well, I see. He didn’t want you to think badly of him, did he?”
Annie had smiled at that point, and Laura felt herself blushing. She protested that if he cared about what she thought, he wouldn’t have been so cutting about her friends and their study group.
Then Annie had asked how Seth got along at San Jose Normal School, and Laura was forced to admit that Seth seemed uncomfortable with most of the other students...spending much of his free time alone or with one or two of the professors. Which made sense. To someone like Seth who’d survived battles, the horrors of Andersonville prison, and the hardscrabble life of a cowboy, the rest of them must seem like carefree children.
Thinking of how the study session went when Seth was there...how he’d sat quietly while Ned engaged in his hijinks and then left early...she should have realized he was finding the whole thing a waste of time. She never should have pushed him to come. And when he said no, she’d gone and acted like the spoiled child he thought they all were. No wonder he walked away in disgust.
But after Annie had left her this afternoon, and Laura pulled out her books to study, she couldn’t let go of her feelings of shame. In her head, she kept apologizing and then explaining and then excusing herself to him. She would point out that Ned kept making jokes in their study sessions to jolly Kitty out of her shyness. But there was no reason that Seth would know that. Or know that she now recognized that she’d been the one at fault in their fight today.
He wouldn’t know unless she told him. And she feared she wouldn’t be able to get a decent night’s sleep or spend tomorrow doing the last-minute studying she needed to do if she didn’t tell him. Which was why she’d decided to speak to Seth tonight. Right after dinner, she told Kathleen she was meeting Kitty to study and not to wait up for her. And then she left the boarding house, telling herself that she would go to Kitty’s as soon as she left Seth’s so that she wouldn’t really have been telling a lie.
When the cable car got to its turning point at Bush Street, she got off and caught the regular horse car that went the rest of the way up Larkin towards her destination at the top of Russian Hill. She’d gotten Seth’s address last February from her brother with the excuse that she needed to write him a thank you note. Nate couldn’t very well say no, given Seth had probably saved her life. But she’d never been to this part of town, in fact, she really hadn’t been anywhere outside her neighborhood all by herself at night before.
Larkin Street became very steep as it crossed Broadway, and the horses slowed, struggling to pull the car up the steep incline that was Russian Hill. The horses were going so slowly she could probably get to where she was going faster if she walked. She wondered if this wasn’t a perfect stretch to build a cable car route. Musing about the economics of horse cars versus cable cars got her through the next ten minutes, but then she began to worry she would miss her stop if she couldn’t get a better view of the house numbers. So she pulled the cord and got off at Filbert Street.
It was completely dark now, with no visible moon, yet the gas lamps provided welcome pools of light every few yards. Checking the brass number on the doorway to her right, she saw she had gone too far and would need to turn back and look for a number about half-way down the block towards Union Street. This seemed to be a commercial block, filled with the signs for greengrocers, millinery shops, tailors, and other stores. All of the first floors were dark and shuttered, but the windows of the upper floors of each building glowed, showing that people did live there.
Seth must reside in one of those upstairs rooms, but she couldn’t find a number that matched the address she had. She went down to Union and then turned back again, peering at each building until she got to a narrow opening between two buildings where the address should have been. She could see by the light coming in from the upper windows that there were stairs a little way back in the tiny alley, but she found she was very reluctant to enter the narrow dark opening to see if this was where Seth lived.
Seth probably wasn’t even home yet. It would be better for her to just wait. Now that the horse car was out of sight, she didn’t see another soul. No carriages, no pedestrians. In her neighborhood, so close to Market, there was always someone walking by, carriages pulling up at a neighbor’s, newsboys shouting about a late edition. Well, maybe it was better that there was no one to see her loitering. But what if someone did come by, some man? What would he think? Of course this didn’t appear to be the part of town where a woman of that sort would loiter. But wouldn’t it be safer to stand right inside the narrow alley, where no one could see her and question her right to be there? Oh, she hoped Nate never found out about this little jaunt.
She should have asked Annie to accompany her. No, Nate would have then been doubly upset. She remembered what happened to Annie once when she’d gone on her own to find Nate. But that was different. Annie was in the midst of an investigation then—she had been lured into danger.
But if something happened, no one even knew she was here. That thought sent chills down her spine. What if Seth was already at home? If she didn’t go further into that alley to find the entrance to his room, she wouldn’t know. She would be standing here for nothing.
On the other hand, what if he wasn’t coming straight home? What if he decided to stop off somewhere? Some saloon. That’s what men did after work. Although now that she thought about it, she’d never seen Seth drink. Not even when Ned, who thought he was being clever with his stupid flask, asked him to. But then Seth wouldn’t drink in front of her. He wouldn’t think it proper. But what if Orrie Childers was working tonight and suggested they have a late supper? After his fight with Laura today, wouldn’t he feel like he had to say yes? Oh heavens, what if he was bringing Orrie home with him? And they found Laura standing, waiting at his doorstep. Oh, this was such a bad idea!
*****
Seth usually enjoyed the walk up Larkin, but tonight he’d been tired enough to look forward to taking the horse car the rest of the way home. Unfortunately, he’d just missed his connection, seeing the lanterns of a car already about four blocks away. Sighing, he rolled himself a cigarette, and once he had it going nicely, he began the trudge up the hill.
Most nights he didn’t come home until after midnight, but he did tend to enjoy Saturdays when he worked a regular day shift and the various shops on Larkin were still open. He would stop and get some fruit and cheese from the greengrocers, a slice of ham from the butcher, and a loaf of bread from the baker next door. But he’d worked late tonight so everything was shut down but the saloons.
He could get a good sandwich in one of those places, but he wouldn’t. Better to stick with his canned beans and some jerky that he had in his room. While he didn’t begrudge other men their bit of solace and companionship, he knew from experience that if he decided to turn into one of those havens of light and noise, the result would be an even greater sense of his own isolation. And, if he actually decided to take a drink, he’d lose the little peace he’d obtained after long years of struggle. Not that he was feeling much peace tonight. Not after the fight with Laura this afternoon.
What an ass he’d been. So what if Laura didn’t take Orrie seriously? He’d not really taken the Rashers’ typesetter seriously until the past week, when her behavior became so reckless. It’s as if the delay in Mrs. Sullivan’s trial had changed something. He knew Griggs kept putting off her requests that she take over Mrs. Sullivan’s job as chief compositor—with the higher salary. Maybe the delay meant Orrie had decided that working at Rashers wasn’t worth it, and she was looking for other employment.
And why did he have to be so brutal with La
ura about not attending the study session? He could just have said no. Didn’t have to accuse her of seeing the exam as a game—when he knew damn well that wasn’t true for her. The look on her face—it was as if he’d punched her in the gut. Just confirmed he couldn’t be trusted around her. Well, she sure wouldn’t give him a chance to hurt her again after the way he behaved today, so he didn’t have to worry about that.
As he crossed Union Street, he saw movement in the opening to the little alley that led to the stairs to his room. His hand went naturally to his hip, where his gun would have been if he wasn’t coming home from work where side arms were forbidden. He threw down his cigarette, and while pretending to grind it out, he reached behind to where his knife was in a sheath attached to his belt. He took the knife out and held it down beside his leg. He then moved up the sidewalk at a regular pace, but as close to the street side as he could get so that when he got to the opening he’d have a good couple of feet between himself and whoever was hovering in the alley.
He’d just registered that the silhouette was small when he heard, “Oh, Seth, Mr. Timmons. I’m so glad I didn’t miss you. I am sorry to disturb you. But I really did need to speak to you.”
“Miss Dawson. Is there something wrong?” He slid the knife back into its sheath. He could see her only faintly from the light spilling down from the rooms above the bakery. When he couldn’t see anyone else with her, he blurted out, “You’re not here by yourself, are you?”
“Well, yes. It was just a spur of the moment decision.”
“You can’t stay. Look, I will escort you home. There are hansom cabs we can get on Broadway, and you can talk to me as we walk down there.”
“No. I mean, please, can’t we go inside, just for a minute? I don’t want to talk to you on the street.”
Seth, hearing the faint sound of men’s voices coming from Union, took Laura’s arm and pulled her into the alleyway and up the steep steps to his door. He took out his key, slid it into the lock, and had her inside before the men could have seen anything.
Shutting the door behind him, he said sharply, “What were you thinking? Your brother will skin me alive.”
“Please, don’t worry. I won’t take long. Then you can escort me to Kitty Blaine’s and no one will be the wiser. But can’t we have some light?”
Realizing that they were standing quite close to each other in the dark and that he still had his hand on her arm, Seth backed off and went to the table and lit the kerosene lamp that sat there. When he turned back, he saw Laura standing in the middle of the room, making a slow circle as she examined everything.
There wasn’t much to see. Bed, bedroll, table stacked with books, a chair, wooden crates that held more books, cooking utensils, and clothes, and a small pot-bellied stove. Hooks held more clothes and his colt, hanging in its holster. In the corner sat his saddle and tack.
He wished he’d taken the time to roll up his bedroll this morning and wash the cup and the pot he’d used both to cook his oats and to eat them. He’d closed the one window before he left for work because he could tell the day was going to be a scorcher. But it was now stuffy, so he went over and opened the window, hoping some of the cooler evening air would seep in. After years living outdoors or in crowded bunk houses, he’d thought of this room as comfortable and spacious. With Laura here, it felt shabby and crowded.
He swept the books off the table and dumped them on the floor, pulling out the chair and indicating that she should sit down. He took off his stetson and went and sat on the bed, feeling better that there was now a table between them. He then jumped up and said, “The pump’s out back. I could get you some water. Or make a pot of coffee. I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to offer you.”
“I would love a glass of water. It’s been so dry today.”
She smiled one of her sweet smiles, and he strode across to a shelf above his washstand and got down a jug, a tumbler, and a towel, and went out the door. At the pump, he filled the jug, used the towel to thoroughly wipe out the tumbler, and then for good measure wet the towel and scrubbed his face with it.
When he returned, she’d picked up his botany text and was reading through it.
He handed her the filled tumbler and went back to sit on the bed. Why was she here? Well, whatever the reason, he should apologize for losing his temper today. “Miss Dawson, I would like to say how sorry I am for the...”
“For pointing out how selfish I was being?”
“I didn’t mean...”
“Yes, you did. You were worried about Miss Childers, and I was too pig-headed to listen to you. For that you scolded me. I didn’t like it. But it was warranted. And, Seth, there was a time you consented to call me Laura.”
“Miss...Laura, I had no right to scold you.”
“But isn’t that a right that friends have? Hattie certainly would have scolded me for not taking you seriously. And didn’t you agree—that night in the hospital—that we would be friends?”
Seth tried to calm the hammering of his heart. He said, “Is that really what you want? I am not an easy person to be friends with.”
She looked up at him and nodded, biting her lower lip. “I don’t have such a sterling record in the area of friendships, myself. Hattie really was my only...well, you know I wasn’t as good a friend as I could have been to her. “
“Laura, you shouldn’t...”
She held up her hand, and he stopped. She went on and said, “Please, let me finish, before I lose my nerve. You see, Annie, Mrs. Fuller, suggested that one of the reasons I might have been so...insensitive...about Miss Childers is that I was jealous that you seemed more interested in her friendship than mine.”
“Oh no. Not at all. There is no comparison.”
Seth stopped, trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say. “I am honored that you wish to be my friend. There is nothing I would like better. But sometimes...my past catches up with me. I fear that the dark things out of that past make me unfit...for friendship...with anyone. I never want to...to hurt you. Yet I did today. And you need to know that I can’t promise not to do such a thing again. I wish I could.”
“Nor can I promise not to make mistakes with our friendship, either. Studying at the university, getting a law degree, and not getting side-tracked by anything is my passion—you need to know that. So sometimes I will probably do stupid things like I did today, insisting that you join the study group—because I knew I would benefit––not paying attention to what you wanted. For that, I apologize.”
“I’m sorry I was impatient with your friend Miss Blaine. I didn’t have any right to question her motivation.”
Then Laura very earnestly told him how people often misunderstood Kitty Blaine. She described how shy the girl was, how her mother’s death and her father’s business interests had condemned her to being raised by a cold and unfeeling governess who’d belittled her and added to her social awkwardness.
She concluded, saying, “And while Kitty loves her father and appreciates the benefits his wealth brings her, she has also suffered slights from classmates who are prejudiced against the Irish. Which is one of the reasons I respect Ned for not letting her Irish heritage get in the way of befriending her. Even though his father hates the Irish.”
Seth was grudgingly telling himself he would reserve judgment on Goodwin when Laura continued, saying, “I think his jokes are a way of protecting himself against a cruel father and a weak mother. He’d rather his father thought him a fool than take him seriously. Because if his father did take him seriously, he would be doing everything possible to make Ned break off his engagement to Miss Beale, one of the teachers I worked with at Clement Grammar last spring, who is as Irish as they come.”
He was just assimilating the very welcome news that Ned Goodwin had a fiancé when Laura stood up. As she approached him, he scrambled off the bed and clasped her out-stretched hand. She shook his firmly and said, “So, Mr. Seth Timmons. To friendship.”
And a little pi
ece of the darkness in his heart cracked and fell away.
*****
Laura sat at the table in Seth’s room, reading steadily through the botany text and taking notes. After they had shaken hands, she felt a hundred percent lighter, and Seth then engaged her in a very pleasant conversation as she finished her glass of water, which she didn’t mention tasted of tooth powder. He was quite chatty—for him. Last fall, when he took her on those buggy rides each weekend, she’d done all the talking.
This evening, they spoke about how unfortunate it was that her brother and Annie had to postpone their wedding and what it would mean to the employees at Rashers if Mrs. Rashers decided to sell. She told him how much she liked his place—so much nicer than her brother’s dinky little room in the attic of his boarding house. He seemed skeptical, but she really did find its neatness and mingled scent of tobacco and leather appealing.
When he suggested that they should be on their way, she looked at her watch and said nine o’clock was really too late to arrive at Kitty’s, but could he please help her understand De Jussieu’s system of classifying plants before he took her home? He’d reluctantly agreed, showing her how to make a chart that would help her memorize the fifteen classifications and nearly a hundred orders. Which was what she was working on now. Even if he didn’t come to their study session tomorrow, and he did say he would think about it, she would have this chart to add to their discussions.
While she filled in the chart, he sat on the bed and worked on reviewing the Greek plays, using the mnemonic system that Kitty had developed. Laura was warmed by the vision of the next four years—attending classes together, arguing over whether Comte’s theory of Positivism was too rigid, studying for exams. This was what she wanted out of a friendship with Seth Timmons.
Looking over to where he sat on his bed, book in hand, head down, she realized he’d fallen asleep. He had asked earlier if he had permission to take off his coat, so he was in his shirt sleeves and vest. For some reason, despite the fact it was still warm in the room, she felt impelled to take her shawl and use it to cover him. He moved slightly, and she backed away but saw that he’d not wakened. Instead, he’d turned and slid down on the bed, pulling the shawl up to his shoulder, where it acted as a pillow, and continued sleeping. She went back to the table, deciding she wouldn’t waken him until she finished taking her notes. No reason to deprive him of any more sleep than necessary.
Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery Page 26