Slowly the wheezing eased and finally stopped. With everyone hovering around, Ma leaned back in her chair exhausted, speaking in a weak, fairly audible whisper. “I’ll be all right.”
Sarah gave her a smile. “Thank goodness. You really scared us.”
“This is my fault,” Pa declared.” I don’t know why you get these attacks, but I’d wager it wouldn’t be so bad once we get to our new home.”
Ma gave him a grateful nod. “I’ll be so glad to get to Mokelumne City. You don’t know how grateful I’ll be to have a home again, but...” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Things will never be the same, not without Florrie.”
Sarah clasped her shoulder. “We’ll never stop looking.”
“Someday we’ll find her,” Hiram chimed in.
Sarah had forgotten Becky—didn’t care where she was, but here she came, fist jammed on her hip, aiming a venomous gaze directly at her. “Ma’s asthma attack is all your fault.”
After a stunned moment, Sarah asked. “In what way?”
“How do you think Ma feels about you staying behind? You’re going to open a restaurant in this sinful place? Have you lost your mind? Ma needs you more than ever, but you only think of yourself and what you want.”
Hiram made a shushing noise, but Becky’s scathing voice grew louder. “Ma hasn’t lost one daughter. She’s lost two.”
“That’s enough.” Hiram grasped his wife’s arm. In a voice that invited no argument, he continued, “We’re going to bed now. Come along.”
Sarah watched as her brother gently but firmly led Becky away. “Good for him,” she murmured.
Pa looked Sarah square in the eye. “Is she right? Are you not coming with us?”
Sarah blew out a breath of resignation and stood to face her father. How old he looked—she hadn’t noticed before—new lines of strain in his face, shoulders slumped more than ever. Ma looked older, too, and even more fragile. With his terrible limp, poor Hiram would never be the same. Only Becky had survived the journey healthy as ever. Selfish, self-centered Becky with a heart the size of a pea. Ma and Pa needed help. Lord knew what might happen if they didn’t have someone strong and tough around to take care of them.
And that’s me.
Sarah swallowed the despair in her throat. “Of course I’m coming with you. That other… I was just talking.” She forced her lips into a smile. “I can hardly wait to see Mokelumne City.”
Chapter 11
In the morning, Sarah served the customers at the Miners’ Heaven Restaurant for the last time. When she told Beatrice Butler she was leaving, the restaurant owner gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry to see you go, but I do understand. I was a bit worried, you know.”
“About what?”
Beatrice’s eyebrows raised in amusement. “Did you think I didn’t know about Anming? In case you’re wondering, Fatt Cheng got her to Hangtown safe and sound.”
“How did you—?”
Beatrice broke into a merry laugh. “Nothing much escapes me in this town.” She grew serious. “You were very brave to tangle with Au Fung. All sorts of bad things could have happened. Don’t ever, ever do that again.”
“I don’t plan to.” That was the easiest promise she ever made.
She returned home with leaden feet. When she left, her family had been packing the wagons. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Jack yet, and by now they would be ready to go. Somehow she’d find him and say goodbye. This was the last time she’d ever see him. She’d be fooling herself if she thought their paths would ever cross again.
When she got back to camp, Jack was there, standing in earnest conversation with Pa. Her heart hurt just looking at his sharp, confident profile, at those strong, capable hands that just last night had caressed her in the most intimate places. He stood so self assured, as if he always knew exactly what he was doing and was completely in charge of his life. Not quite. Last night she’d seen a side of him she’d never seen before. God, I’m going to miss you, he’d cried, letting her see the hidden part of himself that craved love and an escape from loneliness. Only for a moment, though. Men were like that, their pride preventing them from letting their real feelings show.
Pa caught sight of her. He clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Looks like our friend is leaving, too.”
She stiffened, sucking in a shallow breath. If he said he was going to Mokelumne City, she’d faint on the spot. She put a smile on her face. “Where are you going, Mr. McCoy?”
Jack’s gaze met hers. She couldn’t mistake the unspoken pain smoldering in the depths of his eyes. “I’m leaving for Hangtown today. Ben’s looking to go into business, maybe open a general store.”
Pa gave a hearty laugh. “That’s a smart move, Jack. The claims around here are overworked. Hangtown’s the place to be.”
She would keep smiling if it killed her to conceal her sinking anguish. “Good for you, Mr. McCoy. May you find one of those huge nuggets that will make you rich for life.”
Pa guffawed. Jack struggled to smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Gregg. I’m not sure I’ll head for the goldfields. Maybe I’ll go into business with Ben. I’ve enjoyed knowing you and all your family.”
Pa didn’t hear the sadness in his voice, but she did. Not that it mattered. Much as Jack might love her, he wasn’t about to change his mind. “I must finish packing. It’s been nice knowing you, Mr. McCoy.” She took one last look at the man she loved and walked away.
Chapter 12
Mokelumne City
Sarah and her mother sat on a bench and gazed at the two-masted schooner pulling to the dock. Not for the first time, Ma shook her head in wonderment. “I still can’t believe there’s a ship practically in my back yard.”
“But it’s true.” Sarah could hardly believe it either. She’d assumed Mokelumne City was just another farm town. What else could it have been if it was located ninety miles inland from San Francisco? Not until she arrived did she realize the small town sitting at the forks of the Mokelumne and Cosumnes rivers had a port. Several times a week, schooners from San Francisco Bay, loaded with food, hardware, and lumber unloaded at the city dock. From there, the goods were transported by mule train to the goldfields where they brought a huge profit.
Uncle William had given them a warm welcome. Ten years older than Frank, and ailing, he was more than happy to share his home and give his younger brother the responsibility of running the store. In return, Pa was pleased at finding Bryan’s General Store profitable and well run. “It’s the Gold Rush,” Uncle William explained. “Lots of miners come through here and buy supplies to take to the goldfields.”
The town itself was smaller than Sarah expected with only three stores, two hotels, a blacksmith shop, one saloon, a church, warehouse, and a hundred or so houses. Uncle William’s two-story home was one of the largest and, by not-very-high Mokelumne City standards, most luxurious. Walking through the first time, Ma couldn’t contain her delight. Her own kitchen, a pump in the yard, bedrooms for everyone, and her very own parlor with a real fireplace.
Sarah didn’t share her mother’s enthusiasm. She’d arrived in Mokelumne City with a heavy heart. During the month they’d been here, nothing had changed. The pain of losing Jack remained as strong as ever. On the many nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d hungered for the memory of his lips on hers, pictured every single detail of his face. To make matters worse, she soon found life in this strange, new town dull and monotonous. In Fort Wayne, she’d been content with helping her mother run the household, going to church, meeting with her lady friends for an afternoon of chatter. But no longer. She just wasn’t interested. How could she be after the endless excitement of Gold Creek? The days dragged by, but she kept her feelings to herself. Only Hiram guessed how miserable she was. “You’re not happy here, are you?” he’d asked one day.
She could never lie to her brother. “I miss Gold Creek, working in the restaurant, joking with the miners. Remember the thrill when somebody mad
e a big gold find? Just walking down the street was exciting.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Hiram gave her a small, sad smile. “I miss it, too. God knows, I didn’t want to leave.”
Poor Hiram. Since they’d arrived at Mokelumne City, he’d been as miserable as she was. Becky nagged him constantly to use the gold nugget money to buy a farm and grow sugar beets. He didn’t want to buy a farm. All he wanted was to get back to the goldfields, but sooner or later he’d undoubtedly give in to her constant badgering. Meanwhile, he spent long hours working for Uncle William and Pa in Bryan’s General Store. He never complained, but Sarah knew he hated it.
“You miss Jack, too, don’t you?” Hiram asked.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak without a quiver in her voice. Hiram put his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Sis. I really liked Jack. I could tell he loved you, just the way he looked at you sometimes. I don’t understand why he let you go.”
“Neither do I,” she answered in a small whisper. She didn’t tell anyone how she often dropped by the post office to see if Jack possibly had written her a letter. How foolish. He’d never said he’d write, so she shouldn’t be surprised he never did.
Every day, ever since she arrived, she walked the one block from their house to the river where she could sit and watch the arrivals and departures of the schooners and whatever excitement was going on at the dock. It usually wasn’t much. Ma sometimes came with her. Now, as they sat by the river, Sarah pulled her thoughts together. Her mother was talking and she’d better listen. “I’m inviting a guest for dinner tomorrow night. That nice Theodore Goetzmann. He’s the one who owns the beet farm outside of town.”
Oh no. Just as she’d done in Indiana, Ma was matchmaking again. Theodore Goetzmann was a very nice man. A widower with four children as she recalled. “I’m not interested. You know what I said.”
Ma rolled her eyes skyward. “I know you’re never marrying again, but it won’t hurt to get better acquainted, will it? He’s such a fine man. Who knows? You might find he suits you just fine.”
You don’t understand, Ma. I don’t want a man who suits me just fine. I want a man like Jack who can make me melt inside just at the sight of him, and that’s not Theodore Goetzmann. “Don’t get your hopes up. I meant what I said, and I’m not changing my mind.”
Ma’s face fell, filling Sarah with instant regret. Florrie’s disappearance still weighed heavily on everyone’s mind but especially her mother. Not a day went by she didn’t talk about Florrie. Sometimes her eyes teared and her voice broke from the grief of losing her younger daughter in such a cruel, unexpected way. Hiram’s sketch of his missing sister now hung on the wall behind the counter in Bryan’s General Store with a have you seen this girl? sign tacked underneath. Tattered though it was by now, Ma had insisted. “Miners come through here all the time. Maybe somebody’s seen her. You never know.”
Sarah touched her mother’s shoulder. “I’ve been dying to cook my Beef Wellington. On second thought, it would be nice to have a guest for dinner.”
* * * *
“Sturdy” would best describe Theodore Goetzmann. Sturdy arms, legs, torso. As the dictionary said: substantially made or built; able to withstand stress or rough use. A large man with massive shoulders, Theodore made a more than acceptable guest at dinner, bringing flowers to the ladies, making the proper small talk at the table. Becky especially liked him. “He’s a catch if ever there was one, Sarah. If you don’t grab him quick, someone else will.”
Sarah could hardly keep from laughing. Theodore might be a wealthy farmer, kind and dependable, but he bored her to tears with his plodding humor and endless discourse concerning the history and growing of sugar beets. When Ma said she planned to invite him for dinner again, Sarah simply shrugged. “Do what you want. I really don’t care.”
During the month that followed, Sarah fell into the same routine she’d had in Indiana. Ma was as fragile as ever, but with Becky in the house, the two performed the household chores with time to spare. Sarah joined the one and only ladies’ club in town, but whereas she used to enjoy an afternoon of gossip and giggles, she found herself bored beyond belief, wishing the afternoon would end so she could leave. Theodore Goetzmann became a frequent visitor at the Bryans’ home. She became accustomed to his visits, even flattered by his attention. There were times when he wasn’t so boring.
One evening after Theodore had joined them for dinner, he and Sarah strolled the block to the river and sat watching the sunset. He’d acted nervous all evening. When he took her hand, she already knew what he was going to say. “I’ve grown fond of you, Sarah, and would like you to be my wife. I promise you’ll never want for anything. I offer you a good, secure life.”
Marry another farmer? Oh, my God. If she married Theodore Goetzmann, she’d face a lifetime of boredom on a beet farm. She cringed at the thought, and yet, would it be any worse than the tedious life she led now? Jack was gone forever, nothing but a disturbing memory in more ways than one. She’d not heard one word from him, nor did she expect she ever would. She would never love again, so why not settle for a man who offered comfort and security? She looked into the beet farmer’s kindly grey eyes. “I’ll think about it, Theodore. I’ll give you my answer soon.”
The next day, Sarah was washing the breakfast dishes when Hiram, eyes bright with excitement, came rushing in. “I’ve got news. You must come to the store. Is Ma upstairs?”
Sarah nodded.
“Good. She doesn’t need to know yet.”
“Know what, Hiram?”
“Come to the store. You’ll see.”
Despite his bad limp, Hiram moved at a fast pace as they headed for Bryan’s General Store. She had a hard time keeping up with him. Once there, he led her to a bearded, white-haired man standing next to the counter. Judging from the scruffy condition of his clothes, he’d been working a claim not so very long ago. His bloodshot eyes and bulbous red nose hinted at a fondness for alcohol. Hiram performed the introductions. The man’s name was Ethan Cartwright, and he’d just arrived from Hangtown. Sarah couldn’t imagine why her brother wanted her to meet this unkempt man until Hiram pointed to the sketch of Florrie still tacked on the wall behind the counter. “Tell my sister what you told me, Mr. Cartwright.”
The miner blinked his rheumy old eyes and spoke to Sarah. “Yep, I’m sure that’s your sister. If that ain’t her, then she’s a dead ringer.”
Sarah stood amazed and shaken, using all her willpower to keep her jaw from dropping open. “You—you saw my sister? You’re sure, Mr. Cartwright?”
“Like I said, a dead ringer.”
Hiram asked, “You said you saw her in Hangtown?”
“Yep, Hangtown.” The miner scratched his head. “The young lady was waiting tables at one of the saloons. T’was the Gold Star Saloon, best I can recall. That’s smack dab in the middle of Hangtown. Nice girl. Name was Florrie. She served me a beer or two.”
They asked more questions, but Ethan Cartwright could tell them nothing more. After he left, Sarah and Hiram looked at each other in stunned disbelief. “We’ve got to decide what to do,” said Hiram.
Sarah placed her hand on her chest. “My heart’s beating like crazy. Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know what to believe. The old man seems sincere, but he’s a boozer. Maybe he’s making the whole thing up, some kind of alcoholic delusion.”
“Maybe so, but what if he’s not? What if he really did see Florrie?” A bubbly laugh escaped her lips. “What if we found her? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
A worried expression crossed Hiram’s face. “Let’s not get too excited. I tend to believe him, but think about it. What would our sister be doing in Hangtown serving beer in a saloon? Does that make sense to you?”
Her spirits fell as quickly as they’d soared. “I guess not. You’re right. He’s just a crazy old man who’s seeing things.”
“So should we tell Ma and Pa?
”
Her mind raced. She hated to get their hopes up, especially Ma. With her delicate health, how could she stand another disappointment? But what if, for some unimaginable reason, Florrie really was serving beer in a Hangtown saloon? Maybe this would be their only chance to find her. “We should tell them. Let them decide.”
That evening, with the whole family gathered in the parlor, Hiram revealed the news about Florrie. Ma gasped and sank into the nearest chair.
Sarah hastened to say, “It’s just a rumor.”
Hiram added, “Ethan Cartwright is a drunk. He could very well have been seeing things, and he probably was.”
Ma bent forward as if the weight of the world sat on her shoulders. She started slowly swinging her head back and forth, as if in complete denial of their words. She finally spoke in a strangled voice barely above a whisper. “Ethan Cartwright is God’s gift to me. In my heart, I’ve always known Florrie wasn’t dead. For whatever reason, I know she’s there in Hangtown.”
Pa looked dubious. “I’m not so sure, Luzena. Can we believe a rumor told by a drunkard?”
Ma clenched her fists. “She’s there, Frank. I know it. I want my daughter back. You’ve got to go get her.”
“Of course, if you feel that strongly.” He drew a resigned breath. “All right, I’ll go.”
Sarah heard the hesitation in her father’s voice, and no wonder. His health had deteriorated to where it wasn’t much better than her mother’s. There were days when he came home early from the store because he got dizzy and had to lie down.
“I don’t think you should go, Pa.”
Hiram’s firm young jaw clenched with resolve. “I agree with Sarah. I’m the one to go.”
Becky, who had been sitting on the sofa, shot up like a canon. “You will do no such thing, Hiram Bryan. Your place is here with me.”
Sarah waited for what was sure to come. Yet again, her spineless brother would give in to his bossy wife.
Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) Page 13