Wilderness Courtship

by Valerie Hansen

  “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.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Charity answered. Looking to Thorne she saw that he, too, was at a loss as to how best to respond.

  “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and have dinner with us,” Charity said. “I’m sure your mama would want you to.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, dear, I do. Mrs. Montgomery is roasting a brace of California quail that one of our guests brought us.” She raised her head to sniff and added, “They smell delicious, don’t they? And you must be famished.”

  Naomi nodded, still seeming befuddled. “Yes, I guess I am hungry. I don’t know why I should be, though. Mama made me a wonderful breakfast this morning.”

  Eyeing Thorne to make sure he understood that she expected him to stay close by and observe, Charity said, “Actually, I need to go help in the kitchen and set the table. Would you two mind watching Jacob for me while I do that? He’s a good little boy so I know you won’t have any problems with him.”

  When Naomi didn’t answer, Thorne held out his arms and took the child from Charity. “We’ll be glad to, ma’am. Let us know if we can be of any other assistance.”

  Seeing the subdued two-year-old clinging to his uncle’s neck while Thorne gently patted his back gave Charity a surprising pang of longing and blurred her vision enough that she turned and hurried away to hide her emotional reaction. That was what love should be like, she concluded. Simple and pure and safe, the way the child trusted that hardheaded yet tenderhearted man.

  Too bad adult love couldn’t be like that, she added, recalling her horrid marital experience. If she’d learned anything from her frightful days as Ramsey Tucker’s wife it was that she wanted no part of the intimacy that marriage demanded. All she could recall of the few nights when he had accosted her was her own sobs and the way he had beaten her into silence. The only good thing about that was the oblivion of semiconsciousness that had spared her from feeling or hearing most of his disgusting advances.

  Biting back tears, Charity busied herself by spreading a fresh linen cloth on the long, rectangular dining table and beginning to place the dishes and silverware. It had been a long time since she had questioned her current life or had entertained the slightest notion that there might be a different kind of happiness waiting for her just over the horizon. That notion was staggering. And frightening.

  Rejecting it outright, she reminded herself that she was perfectly content to look after her dear papa and tend to the chores of the hotel. That was her lot in life and she was comfortable with it.

  So why did she suddenly feel such a stirring of dissatisfaction? The Good Lord had rescued her from servitude to an evil, disreputable man and had reunited her with her loved ones. Why wasn’t she the happiest woman in San Francisco—or in the whole country, for that matter?

  “I am happy. And I love it here,” she murmured.

  Mrs. Montgomery chuckled from across the room as she used a corner of her apron to blot perspiration from her forehead. “I’m right glad to hear that,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, girl.”

  “You don’t have to fret about that,” Charity said. “I’m never going to leave Papa. I promised him that long ago and I aim to keep my word.”

  Thorne held the child close and continued to stroke his back while Naomi prattled on about her life as a little girl. There was no doubt in Thorne’s mind that his sister-in-law was a very sick woman. What he could hope to do about that without Aaron to help him was a different question.

  The searchers had narrowed down the possibilities of Aaron’s disappearance to one of two packet boats that had left the harbor with the mail soon after his abduction. That, or he had been spirited away overland, which was an unlikely scenario given the inherent difficulties in getting all the way back to New York via that route. Thorne had to assume that delivering Aaron to Louis was the kidnapper’s assignment, else why take him at all?

  No, Thorne had reasoned, they had to have left the city by sea. Since there was no use trying to catch up to the individual boats at this late date he had telegraphed ahead and already had dozens of men working on the puzzle. Until one of them wired back that he had located Aaron, there was nothing for Thorne to do but keep his vigil at the hotel.

  He was relieved when Mrs. Montgomery summoned everyone for dinner. As soon as his gaze met Charity’s he shook his head slightly in answer to her unspoken query.

  She relieved Naomi of her hat, gloves and reticule, then guided her to the same chair she had occupied the last time she and Aaron had eaten at that table, hoping it might trigger her memory. It didn’t.

  Thorne took a seat opposite his sister-in-law and gave Jacob the chair beside him, as usual. Many of the guests they had met during their stay had moved on. At present there was only Charity and her father, the proprietress and the young desk clerk, Thorne, Jacob, Naomi and two single men sharing the table. To Thorne’s disgust, one of them resembled the fool who had tried to take Naomi out for a stroll and the other was the prattling idiot who had delayed him so long that she had almost escaped.

  Thorne tried to make polite conversation with Charity while tolerating the other men for the sake of propriety. He was running out of things to say when a gangly, hatless youth with black elastic bands holding up his shirtsleeves burst into the hotel. His boots clomped on the wooden floor as he made straight for the dining room.

  “Mr. Blackwell. I’m plumb glad I found you,” he said, panting and looking extremely agitated.

  Thorne’s breath caught when he recognized the telegrapher. He pushed back his chair and stood. “What is it? Do you have news?”

  “Yes, sir.” The younger man handed him a slip of paper.

  Reading it, Thorne tried to hide his distress. One quick glance at Charity’s concerned expression told him he had failed.

  She arose and circled her chair to join him. Gently laying her hand on his coat sleeve she urged him to share the message. “What have you learned?”

  “They’re absolutely certain that they traced Aaron and two other men to the port of Los Angeles, where they all boarded a ship bound for New York, as I had suspected they might.”

  “Then that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. His heart was pounding and the hand that held the paper was trembling. “No. Not if he actually was aboard the El Dorado, as they believe. That ship just sank in a hurricane off the coast of Mexico with all hands reported lost.”

  Feeling Charity’s fingers tighten on his forearm and seeing the compassion in her blue eyes, he covered her hand with his before he said, “It appears Jacob has no one left to look after him and his mother but me.”

  “What are you going to do?” Charity asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  From across the table, Naomi spoke as if she hadn’t understood a thing they’d just said. “I must be going home to my mama soon. She’ll be worried.”

  Thorne’s gaze traveled from Naomi to Charity and then to the wide-eyed child. “You’re right. You should go to your mother. We’ll pack tonight and leave as soon as I can book passage on a packet boat headed north toward Puget Sound.”

  His fingers closed around Charity’s. “I know this is sudden, Miss Beal, but will you come with us? Jacob needs care and Naomi should have a gentlewoman like you as a traveling companion.”

  She pulled away. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Why not? I’ll pay you well for your trouble and treat you as if you were part of my family. I know it may be an arduous journey but surely, if you won’t do it for Naomi, you’ll take pity on the child.”

  “That’s not fair,” Charity said. “You know I care for him but my papa needs me and I promised I’d never leave him. I assure you, I take that vow quite seriously.”

  Emory cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “I suspect this is a good time to make an announcement that I’ve been savin’ for just the right moment.” He reached for Annabelle Montg
omery’s hand and clasped it for all to see. “Mrs. Montgomery has consented to become my wife.”

  “Papa!” Charity was thunderstruck.

  “Don’t look so shocked, girl.”

  “But, what about Mama?”

  He sobered and shook his head. “Your mama’s gone to Glory but I’m still down here. And I’m not dead yet.”

  “I know, but…”

  Emory was adamant as he beamed at his intended bride. “This is a fine, upstanding, Christian widow woman and I’m proud she fancies me. She’ll make you a wonderful stepmother.” He kissed his future wife’s hand before he continued, “I release you from whatever promise you think you made, Charity, even though I don’t recall any such nonsense. Your sister would already be upstairs packin’ her duds if somebody had offered her an adventure like that. What’re you waitin’ for?”

  Thorne could see that Charity was deeply hurt. He reached for her hand once again, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. “Please? At least promise me you’ll consider my offer?”

  When she nodded, then turned and fled up the stairs to hide her tears, his heartfelt sympathy went with her. He knew exactly how it hurt to be treated as an outsider in one’s own family. He’d dealt with that kind of unfair pain all his life. And he wasn’t done doing so.

  The two so-called gentlemen who had shared the communal meal in the Montgomery hotel stood in the shadows outside and spoke in whispers while they lit up after-dinner cigars. “Do you think it’s true? Could the others all be dead?” the taller, thinner one asked.

  His balding, stocky companion shrugged. “I don’t know. Blackwell looked pretty upset when he heard the bad news but the wife didn’t make a peep. It might be a ruse to throw us off the trail.”

  “And it might not. Now that there’s maybe only two of us left, what do you think we should do?”

  “Split up,” the second man said, hooking a thumb in his vest pocket and leaning his head back to blow a succession of smoke rings. “You go back East by sea, explain this new development and tell the old man what we know so far.”