by Rue Allyn
Years ago, Jem had possessed a temper, but ever since he’d murdered Father Conroy’s sister in a rage that should have been directed at Cerise, Jem had drowned that temper in drink.
In his rage, Jem hadn’t known who the girl was, but that hardly mattered when he’d done the murder in front of witnesses. Cerise had taken the knife from his hands. She’d taken a bloody shirt from Dutch. She’d told both men to leave. She’d take care of the body, and she’d keep the evidence, accusing both of them if they dared to try to link her to this crime or any other.
Dutch had told Cerise he wasn’t coming back, and he’d walked away without a word to Jem. Jeremiah Trahern had never planned to go back either. Because of what she knew, any time he was in San Francisco, Jem would be Duval’s lackey.
Why that anger stirred in him today, he wasn’t certain. He only knew he was tired of the life he lived, sick to death of being boot-licker to people like Duval and the Chinaman, and ashamed that it was his sons who paid and were still paying for their father’s sins. He felt that anger, but he still had no courage to act on it. For that he’d need an entire crate of whisky. “What do you want me to do?”
“You will go to Dutch and tell him that Trey is being held on a hulk in Alameda.”
Jem’s eyes lit and he straightened, turning to face Cerise. Was there a chance he’d be able to rescue Trey himself and maybe atone for some of the pain he’d caused? “You’ve got Trey that far away?”
“Where we have your younger son is of no concern to you until you pay me the money you owe!” For a scrawny old man, the Chinaman’s shout was loud and strong.
Jem flinched. He didn’t like the way the old man sneered at him. Nor did he like the suspicious gleam in Cerise’s gaze.
“You don’t have much time, Judge. We want this job done before dusk. You might wish to know that the Chinaman will have his assassins watching you, just in case you consider ignoring our request.”
“I’m sorry you feel you can’t trust me. Would you like me to report back to you when I’m done?”
“No,” said the Chinaman. “We’ll know if you’ve done the job or not. But do not think to leave town either. Until you’ve paid your debt to me, you are our tool.”
“I understand.” He strode out the door without saying goodbye. As he walked toward the house where Dutch was staying, the twinges of anger turned to disgust as they always did, and Jem wished he had a drink. However, there would be no drinking until he’d performed his lying errand to Dutch. He had no doubt that the information he was to give about Trey was false. He wished he knew why. The farther he walked, the deeper his self-loathing grew. Drink wouldn’t begin to numb the revulsion and regret he felt. No, if he wanted redemption, he wouldn’t find it in a bottle. He’d have to find Trey and get the boy back to Dutch. Even if Dutch didn’t forgive, Jem knew he’d finally be able to live with himself.
• • •
“I tell you all I did was give Edith the note, and instead of coming in to speak with you, she grabbed her shawl and left. She said she’d be back in a few hours.”
Dutch watched Eileen twist her handkerchief as she retold her earlier encounter with Edith. “You gave me her note close to eight hours ago, and dark’s closing in. You must know something else.” Anger thrust him toward his friend’s wife.
Marcus stepped between them.
Eileen cringed, staring out from behind her husband’s shoulder.
“Look, Dutch, I know you’re worried about Edith, but there’s no need to browbeat Eileen. She can’t tell you what she doesn’t know.”
“Then where is Edith?” Dutch moved around Marcus. “I’m sorry if I startled you.” He tried to gentle his tone, but his gut told him something was very wrong. “You must remember something. Did she call a carriage, chair, rickshaw? Did she walk? Did she go left or right?”
Eileen squared her shoulders and firmed her expression, forcing Dutch to back off.
“Enough,” she said. “I didn’t watch her walk out the door. Now instead of haranguing me, perhaps we should start thinking about how to find Edith.”
“We need help,” said Marcus.
“Right,” agreed Dutch. “Do you think Father Conroy would call out the vigilance committee if we asked him?”
“I have to wonder if he believes you two are really married. Given that half the committee still thinks Edith is a whore and if she were dying in the street would trample her.”
“Father Conroy has seen our marriage certificate. There’s no question that he believes we’re married.”
“Then I’ll remind him of that in my note asking for his help. Why don’t you go look through Edith’s things? She may have something in her trunk that would give us a clue as to where she went.”
“Good idea. I’ll be back as soon as I finish.”
• • •
The door of the room Dutch shared with Edith opened, but he continued to stare at the papers in his hands.
“Dutch, we’ve been waiting for you,” said Marcus.
Betrayal and confusion burned Dutch’s gut and his head pounded. He looked up from the papers he held.
Instantaneous concern tightened Marcus’s expression. “What is it, old friend?”
“Edith isn’t a prostitute. At least not any kind I’ve dealt with before.”
“So she’s respectable. You told me that. Why do you look so unhappy?”
Dutch handed the papers to Marcus.
“She’s a dang sight more than respectable. But she’s also poor as dirt unless she or one of her sisters has a child in the two years following her grandfather’s death. I happen to know the old man was at death’s door when Edith left Boston. He may already have passed on.”
“What are you talking about?” Marcus unfolded the papers.
“Just read her grandfather’s will. She’s been trying to get me to bed her since the moment we met in the bordello. She was probably there because any man would do.”
“This is absurd. Do you know what this will says?”
“Yeah, I do. In order to inherit a fortune, she needs a child but not a husband. She told me more than once that she didn’t want to marry.”
“Then why did she marry you?”
“Father Conroy insisted.” Dutch didn’t bother to mention that it was Edith’s lie that had aggravated the trouble with Father Conroy. “Edith agreed, if I would promise to annul the marriage when she left San Francisco. She probably thought I’d break down and bed her if we were married. She used me for sex just like Duval.”
Marcus put his hand on Dutch’s shoulder but remained silent for a long time.
There was nothing to be said. No way to deny the truth or make it any less ugly. Dutch knew he should be angry, but the temper that hid his emotional wounds remained absent. He felt numb. Edith’ betrayal hurt, but living without her would hurt more — more than the thousand injuries from his father or the humiliation of servicing Cerise Duval. He shook his head in wonder at himself. He was a sad excuse for a man if he couldn’t hate Edith for using him. The problem was he understood too well her need to protect and provide for her sisters. Too bad she wasn’t willing to let him share that burden, because he wouldn’t hesitate to see her safe and happy.
“Do you intend to go through with the annulment?” Marcus’s quiet question intruded.
Dutch shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll be a very rich man.”
“I’ll have sold my body and soul for money. When I escaped from Duval, I swore I’d never allow myself to be bought and sold again. I don’t want Edith’s money.”
“Then don’t use it. Put it in trust for your children, but you’d be a damn fool to deny yourself the benefits that marriage to Edith Alden of Boston can bring you.”
“Such as?”
“You’ve told me how beautiful and intelligent she is. Those are very desirable traits in a wife. Her family has connections to the best families and smartest financiers in the count
ry. Alden Shipping and Industries is known worldwide. Add respectability and the woman is nearly perfect. Her money and standing just complete the package. You must want it, especially given how hard you’ve worked to achieve those things on your own.”
“Putting aside the issue of selling myself, I still don’t think I can stay married to her. She knows what I’ve made of myself and why. She doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me about this will. Once she learns that I know about it, she won’t believe I want her for herself.”
From where he sat, Dutch looked to Marcus and saw understanding dawn in his friend’s eyes.
Marcus nodded.
Grateful that he didn’t have to explain more, Dutch looked away. Everything he wanted in the world was wrapped up in one package — Edith. However, he’d give it all up — hell he’d even go back to life in the cathouses — if it meant he could keep Edith as his wife.
“Have you told her you love her?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Well she can’t believe you love her if you don’t tell her.”
“How can I risk having her tromp all over my heart? How can I risk continued marriage to a woman who only wants me for sex, and who won’t believe I want her not her fortune?”
“Loving Eileen taught me that you have to take the risk and trust that Edith will treasure your feelings and return them.”
Dutch rolled his eyes. “Edith isn’t Eileen.”
“Amen.” Marcus smiled. “But you still have to let the woman know you love her. Without that you don’t have even glimmer of hope.”
“I have to find her first. Did you send the note to Conroy?”
“Right here.” Marcus patted his chest then withdrew a folded paper from his coat’s inner pocket. “I thought you’d want to add a word or two.”
“Thanks.” Dutch moved to the desk, spread the paper flat, found a pen, and dipped the nib into the inkwell. As he bent to write, the door to the room flew open.
“Mista Dutch, Mista Dutch. Missee kidnapped. Chinaman and Duval woman take Missee to boat at docks in South Bay. You come now. Save Missee like you save Tsung.”
“Which boat?”
“Tsung not know. Lijun and second cousin follow men who have Missee Edith. Lijun stay, watch, send second cousin to get Tsung. I come get you. Meet Lijun at dock.”
“All right.” Dutch scrawled a short message at the bottom of Smiley’s note to Conroy.
Tsung grabbed at his arm. “No time write; Missee in bad trouble.”
“Here.” He handed the note to Marcus. “I know she’s in trouble, and I’m coming now. Just let me get my pistol.”
“Good-good, but hurry fast, please.”
Marcus left the room. His footsteps thundered on the stairs. “Eileen!”
Dutch opened one of the saddle bags that now held all of his personal belongings. Finding his revolver took precious but necessary seconds. Then he was behind Tsung and running for the stairs.
Marcus met them at the bottom, a shotgun tucked under his arm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” objected Dutch. “This fight could be deadly. I won’t allow you to risk leaving Eileen a widow.”
“My wife suggested I go. She’s already on her way to Father Conroy with the note so we’ll have reinforcements.”
“But … ”
“The longer you stand here arguing, the more likely Duval and the Chinaman will send Edith beyond your reach.”
Dutch looked at Marcus and swallowed fear. His friend was right.
“Second cousin saddle horses for you at back of house.”
“Tsung, you’re a pearl beyond price.”
“Good-good. You give Tsung raise.”
“Let’s go,” urged Dutch.
But a knock on the front door halted their progress.
“What bad timing.” Marcus strode to the door and opened it.
On the doorstep, hat in hand, stood Judge Jeremiah Trahern.
“What the hell do you want?” growled Dutch.
“That damned Chinaman double-crossed me. I gave him the money you paid me as a good faith down payment, but he wouldn’t release Trey from that hulk up near Alameda. Dutch, you’re the only one who’s faced down the Chinaman and Duval and gotten away with your skin in one piece. You gotta save your brother.”
Dutch stared at his father. A hulk near Alameda was about as far as could be from the South Bay docks where Edith was and still remain in the San Francisco area. The timing of his father’s revelation was suspicious in the extreme. Dutch smelled a rat, but could he be certain that Trey wasn’t in Alameda? There was no time to verify the judge’s story. Dutch would have to choose between his brother and Edith.
• • •
The unmistakable scents of brine and fish roused Edith to groggy consciousness. The gentle roll of the floor where she lay confirmed that she was on shipboard. She shivered despite the lack of a breeze. From nearby came the stink of fetid air and unwashed bodies. She lay on her side, one arm squeezed between her and the floor. Her cheek pressed into hard wood planks. Tiny clinks echoed the slap of waves against the side of the ship. Was that the sound of someone weeping softly? To relieve pressure on her arm, she shifted. Pain shot through her head and produced a groan. The clink became a rattle, and her arm thudded to the floor.
“Don’t try to move.”
“Here. It ain’t cold, but it’s damp and may help some.”
A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead. “Ahh.”
“Better?”
Edith opened her eyes. Thankfully the light was dim, but the lack of light made distinguishing the features of the woman leaning over her difficult.
“Who are you, and where are we?” Edith asked.
“Don’t spend much time feeling sorry for y’self do ya? I’m Janella Jims, but ever’one calls me Ella.”
“Self pity is a waste of time and effort. Help me up, please.”
“C’mon, Gert. Let’s help our friend here to sit up.”
With the aid of the two women, Edith levered herself into a sitting position, her back supported by the bulkhead. Still the deck tilted and spun, and the figures peopling the space blurred strangely. Nausea rose, and she had no will to swallow it back.
“Get the bucket, Gert. Our friend’s gonna lose her lunch.”
Ella held her head. Someone, no doubt the as yet unseen Gert, rubbed her back.
With her stomach emptied and the heaving stopped, Edith reclined, shivering, against the bulkhead.
“Here, put this back on your head and close your eyes.”
Edith held the soggy compress to her forehead but kept her eyes open. She couldn’t help staring.
It wasn’t Gert’s tiny angelic beauty or Ella’s raw-boned face and curvaceous body that fascinated her but the fact that both women were naked.
Ella’s wide lips frowned. “Di’n’t your mama teach you not to stare?”
Gert huddled silent and shy behind her larger friend.
Edith nodded and swallowed against her scratchy throat. “But you’re, ah, well … ”
“Bare-assed naked? So’re you, friend. We’re all starkers.” Ella cast her arm out in a gesture that encompassed all of the formerly blurry figures.
The area must have contained more than a hundred naked women.
“What is this place? Where are we?”
“Cargo hold of a freight ship that the Chinaman’s using to get us outta San Francisco.
“Why? What happened to our clothes?”
“You’re just full of questions, ain’t ya?”
“I can’t help myself or anyone else without information.”
“Hmmm. S’pose you tell me a bit about yourself first. Chinaman’s planted spies b’fore to report any talk of escape.”
“I’m Edith Smithfeld.” She figured sticking with the alias was best, since that’s how most people in San Francisco knew her. “I came to San Francisco to find my sister. Her last known address was the house where Cerise Duval has
her bordello. I made a deal with Madame Duval that would allow me to stay in the house and perhaps find out what happened to my sister. Madame changed the terms of our agreement without my consent. She auctioned me to the highest bidder. I imagine she would have done so more than once, if I hadn’t escaped.”
Ella’s mouth went round. “You’re the Boston Virgin?”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Who hasn’t.”
A number of heads nodded, and Edith realized her audience had grown.
“You’re a ten-day wonder, Miz Smithfeld,” continued Ella. “Ain’t no one on the Barbary Coast can remember the last time any woman got the better of Cerise Duval, ’specially since she hooked up with the Chinaman. Person crosses the Chinaman, they either disappear or wind up dead.”
Gert poked her head up from behind Ella’s shoulder. “Though some say that fella who helped you escape the bordello has the goods on Cerise Duval. They been enemies for years. She wants to dirty his name real bad, but whatever she throws at him, he always comes out clean.”
“I know Mr. Trahern has an intense dislike of bordellos and prostitution. I’m certain he’ll take care of Madame Duval when he feels the time is right.”
Gert blushed and ducked out of sight. Ella shrugged. “If you say so. Gert’s just telling you what’s said ’bout Trahern and Duval. I heard that once those two were thick as thieves. Mebbe he keeps quiet ’cause of fond memories.”
Edith bit back a retort. She wouldn’t gossip about Dutch, but the man she knew had too many reasons to want Duval brought down.
“I’ve answered your questions,” said Edith. “You answer mine. I need information because I’m not waiting around to be rescued, and anyone who helps gets the same chance to escape that I get.”
“If you plan on escaping you better do it quick. Only two sets of empty shackles are left. We’ll be sailing soon as those are filled.”
The lack of warmth kept her shivering, but Edith squared her shoulders. She had to show these women she was serious. “Tell me about the daily routine. When do the guards come to check on you? When are you fed? Things like that.”