No matter how it looks, I have feelings for you, Sarah. Her heart did a flip whenever she thought of what he’d said that night. She thought of it far more often than she wished, but she must be sensible. Never again would she risk the anguish he’d caused her.
Four days after she’d last seen Jack, she was cleaning up after the sale of her last pie when he rode up on Bandit. He dismounted and asked, “So you’re selling pies?”
She grinned. “Yes, and making a small fortune. If I had a regular oven, I’d be rich.”
“I’ve got news about Anming.” At her quick, sharp breath, he raised his hand. “Don’t get your hopes up. She may not know anything that would help you.”
“I still want to talk to her.”
He gave an understanding nod. “I’ve arranged for you to meet her tomorrow morning, early, back of the brothel. It’s the best time. Everyone’s asleep after their busy night.”
Did she detect a note of bitterness in his voice just then? “How did you—?”
“That brothel’s got a fancy French cook named Bastien. He comes in the store all the time. Ben has done him a lot of favors, so he figured maybe Bastien could do us a favor and get word to Anming that you want to see her. With a grin, he added, “I suspect some sort of promise concerning a load of lobsters from San Francisco was involved.” He grew serious. “This is risky, Sarah. Anming will slip out to talk to you, but she can’t stay long. I don’t know if you realize, but she’s practically a slave in that place and not treated well. The man who owns that brothel is evil as they come. “
“I hear what you’re saying,” she answered grimly. “How early should I be there?”
“I’ll come get you as soon as the sun comes up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“You want to go alone?” He looked amused. “Didn’t I just tell you how risky this is? You will not go alone. That’s final.”
“All right, I won’t argue.” Actually she didn’t want to argue. Returning to that awful place was nothing she looked forward to. What a relief to know a man who knew no fear would be by her side.
Jack looked around the campsite, now cluttered with sacks of flour and sugar, bags of dried apple slices, all the ingredients needed to bake a pie. “If you want to go into the pie business, this isn’t the right place. You need to be in town.”
“You’re right. I should be on Main Street, but I have no idea how to go about it and neither does Hiram.”
“I’ll see what I can do. See you tomorrow.” He stuck out his hand. Taken aback, she simply stared. He laughed. “Did you forget we’re friends now? Friends shake hands.”
She caught on fast. “Right you are.” She slipped her small hand into his large one. He gripped it tight. As they shook, the feel of his roughened palm spiked an unexpected warmth in the pit of her stomach. Enough of that. She withdrew her hand and said primly, “I truly appreciate what you’ve done, Mr. Mc Coy. I do so value your friendship.”
He remained solemn and straight-faced. “And I enjoy yours, my dear Widow Gregg. See you in the morning.”
He swung onto Bandit and rode away.
* * * *
Early the next morning, Sarah carefully picked her way through the trash-strewn backyard of the brothel on Pacific Street. It wasn’t a pretty sight with its piles of garbage and countless empty whiskey bottles strewn around. Thank heavens, Jack was right behind her. It might be early morning, all quiet, no one in sight, but her heart raced just the same. She reached the back door. “I hope we don’t have to wait long,” she whispered to Jack. The door slowly opened. Anming peered out. Seeing Sarah, her little face beamed with joy. “You came!” She slipped out the door and hugged Sarah like a long lost friend.
Sarah hugged her back and looked around the cluttered backyard. “I hate to talk here. Can we go somewhere?”
“No, no!” Anming’s eyes widened with fear. “I dare not go far. We must talk here, and I can’t be long. I don’t want them to catch me.”
Sarah stepped back and examined the Chinese girl with a critical eye. She’d been thin before, but now she looked as if a slight breeze might blow her away. An ugly bruise covered her right cheekbone. “Good heavens, what are they doing to you in there?”
Anming hung her head. “It’s not so bad.”
“You’re not getting enough to eat. What’s that bruise on your face?”
“Please!” Desperation filled Anming’s voice. She flicked a panicky glance at the door. “I can’t talk long. If they find me out here, they’ll be very angry. You wanted to know about Florrie’s baby?”
Jack stepped forward. “We understand. We’ll be quick as we can. Tell us what you know.”
Anming gave him a grateful nod. “Here’s what I found out. Florrie gave birth to a baby girl. They told her the child was stillborn, but they lied.”
“So she’s alive?” Sarah held her breath.
The Chinese girl spoke barely above a whisper. “Very much alive.”
“If she’s alive, what happened to her?” Jack asked.
Anming lowered her voice even further. “They took her away.”
“Who took her away?”
A distant sound of voices from inside the house caused Anming to throw a panic-stricken glance at the door. “I must go.”
“No! Anming, you don’t have go back.”
Jack’s jaw tensed with anger. “Come with us. They have no right to keep you.”
Anming took in a deep breath, seeming to calm herself, and gazed at Sarah with grateful eyes. “Thank you, but I must stay. I said some day I would repay you for all your kindnesses, and this is my chance. I will find out who took the child and where she is now. When I do, I’ll get word to you.” As silently as she’d slipped out, the little Chinese girl gave them a slight bow and slipped inside.
Jack’s eyes narrowed in disgust as he looked around the trashed-out yard. “Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.”
Chapter 16
“We’ve got mail!” Hiram triumphantly held two letters high.
Sarah was about to roll out pastry for a pie. She dropped the rolling pin and hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron. “Are they from home?”
“Straight from Mokelumne City.” Despite the excitement of living in a gold mining town, they both missed their family and longed to hear from them. Hiram had been going to the post office every day to look for mail that had never come until today. “One’s from Ma and Pa addressed to both of us. The other’s to me from Becky.” A flash of remorse crossed his face. “I’ve been planning to write, but what with helping you with the pies, I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
Sarah read the letter from their parents. They were fine. The store was fine. Theodore Goetzmann was fine. Any word of Florrie? When were they coming home? Sarah breathed a guilty sigh. “I hate lying to them.”
Hiram looked up from the letter he was reading. “You want to tell them Florrie’s working in a whorehouse and loving it?”
Sarah winced but couldn’t argue. “Maybe it’s silly, but I have this dream that Anming will find out who has little Addy. Somehow we’ll get her back. We’ll take her to Florrie, and when she sees how sweet and adorable her baby is, she’ll give up the life she’s leading and go home to Ma and Pa.”
She expected a laugh from Hiram. Instead, tears moistened his eyes. “I can only hope your dream comes true, Sarah. I think of Florrie all the time in that awful place.” He held up his letter. “Becky wants me home. She says I’m being selfish and shirking my responsibilities. It’s high time I stopped my drinking, gambling, and carousing around in this sinful town. She says it’s time I sold that nugget I found and bought a beet farm, same as Theodore Goetzmann.”
As usual, Sarah bristled at the mention of her sister-in-law. She must watch what she said, though. Nothing would change Hiram’s mysterious devotion. “Becky doesn’t understand. Maybe someday she will, although I wouldn’t count on it. Why go
rushing home? You know she’s perfectly safe with Ma and Pa. Besides, you can’t think of leaving yet. It’s only been a day since we talked to Anming.”
Hiram’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. We can’t go home yet. I just wish Becky thought more highly of me.”
Words of protest rushed to Sarah’s lips. That awful woman has hurt you again. Why do you let her? She kept her mouth shut. Anything she said would upset him even more.
She went back to making her pies. She baked them every day now, still selling every slice, making a modest profit. The trouble was she could bake only a limited number of pies over an open campfire. Hiram chopped the wood and kept the fire going, but still, by the end of the day, she was exhausted, her back aching from having to bend low countless times.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could bake my pies in a regular kitchen like Beatrice Butler’s?
The thought struck with sudden clarity and wouldn’t go away. As the afternoon went by, it produced a flood of exciting ideas. Why couldn’t she run a restaurant, same as Beatrice was doing? Maybe not a restaurant, but if she served only pie and coffee, the miners would come in droves. Sarah’s Pie Shop. She would put it right on Main Street in the heart of Hangtown. It wouldn’t have to be fancy. Resembling most shops in town, it would have just a tarp roof, canvas sides, and a plank floor.
Ideas were still swirling in her head when Jack came visiting in the late afternoon while Hiram had gone to town. No, he had heard nothing yet from Anming. “But it’s only been a day. How are the pie sales going?”
She invited him to sit by the campfire and gave him a cup of coffee. “I’ve just had this idea. Tell me what you think.”
Jack listened attentively. When she finished, he raised his eyebrows and declared, “That’s a great idea. I mentioned it once, remember? I’m all for it. Here’s what I can do to help you…”
The more Jack talked, the more her enthusiasm grew. Jack and Ben had a lease on their general store and the empty space beside it. She was welcome to use that space. They could put up a canvas-sided building in no time. No doubt Hiram would help. When she said she would need a stove, an oven in particular, Jack said not to worry, no problem at all. They discussed what else she would need. Even for a simple pie shop, it was quite a list. Tables, benches, dishes, forks, pie pans, cups, and more. Again, not a problem. What they didn’t have in the store, Jack would have shipped from San Francisco.
At mention of the costs, her high spirits sank. “I wasn’t thinking…that’ll cost money. We don’t have that much.”
“I’ll make you a loan. I consider you a good investment.”
“You do?” Was he joking? Maybe not. He sounded serious enough.
When they finished discussing their plans, Jack remarked, “So this means you’ll be staying for a while.”
Until that moment, she hadn’t given a thought to what a serious commitment she’d be making. Her family expected her and Hiram to return to Mokelumne City soon. They couldn’t keep making excuses much longer. Up until now, she’d simply assumed she would return home like a good daughter should. But she didn’t have to go back if she didn’t want to. To open a restaurant of her own—what a challenge. By God, she could do it! She threw her head back and looked Jack in the eye. “I’ll be staying for while. I’m not tied to Mokelumne City.”
Although Jack kept a straight face, she caught a fleeting gleam of gratitude deep in his eyes. “So we’ll be business partners.”
She recalled how Pa got a certain dead serious expression on his face whenever he talked business. She did the same. “I’ll pay back your loan and also a percentage of my profits for the use of your land. I believe that’s how it works.”
“I’ll take two percent.”
She sniffed. “I don’t know much about business, but that’s not enough. Ten percent.”
He laughed. “What a shrewd businesswoman you are, Widow Gregg. All right, ten percent it is.” He reached to shake her hand. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.”
She took his hand. Once again, its warmth sent a hungry, hot throb surging through her veins. An urge to lean into his arms took ahold of her. She caught herself just in time, stifling the gasp that trembled on her lips. Casually, she withdrew her hand. “Strictly business, of course.”
“Strictly business.” He raised his coffee cup. “Here’s to Sarah’s Pie Shop. Long may it prosper.”
With a smile, she raised her own cup, even though she wondered, what have I done? Never in her life had she made such a momentous decision. What if she failed? No! She was not going to fail, and when she pictured herself running her very own restaurant—in charge!—making money!—she knew she was doing the right thing.
When Sarah told Hiram about the pie shop, he heartily approved. “I’ll help in any way I can, but you’d better write the family, let them know we won’t be home anytime soon.”
Sarah wrote home that day. They were still looking for Florrie—still weren’t sure when they could come home. She felt bad about lying but not bad enough she’d give up her pie shop. It went up fast. In what seemed no time at all, a new structure stood on the vacant space next to Longren & McCoy’s General Store. Jack did most of the work with Ben’s and Hiram’s help. When Sarah came to look, Jack proudly showed her around. “The dining room’s in front. We’ve ordered tables and chairs. We’ve screened off an area in the back for your kitchen where you can wash dishes, roll out your pies, and all that. We’ll open soon as we have all the furnishings. It shouldn’t take long. Ben’s already ordered knives, forks, plates, everything you need, from San Francisco.”
“That’s wonderful. Now if I only had a stove.”
Jack grinned. “Come back tomorrow.”
In the morning, Jack accompanied Sarah and Hiram to the pie shop and told them to look out back. When they did, Sarah could hardly believe her eyes. A dome-shaped object, high as her head and made of bricks, stood just behind the back entrance of the building.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a beehive oven. Ben and I built it last night. It heats with kindling and wood. That means you’ll have to get up early in the day to fire it up and keep it going, but it’s big enough you can bake several pies at once, or anything else you’d like to, all day long.”
Jack had done so much for her already, and now this. Seeing him standing there, his smile full of careless charm, she was hard put to remember why she wanted to be just friends. Oh, yes, she remembered. Jack McCoy was everything wonderful a man could be. He was also completely, forever unavailable, one of those men who wandered and would never settle down. She pulled her thoughts together and politely inquired, “How can I thank you?”
“Don’t bother. Glad to do it.” His answering tone was as polite as hers.
Good. She’d gotten past the momentary lapse in her otherwise strong control. In the future, she must concentrate on her new business and keep those lustful thoughts of Jack McCoy totally out of her head.
Later, while Jack, Sarah, and Hiram still stood talking, Ben came rushing over from the store. “Bastien, the French cook from the brothel, was just here. He’s got a message from Anming. She wants to see you tomorrow, same as last time.”
* * * *
Back of the brothel, the tiny Chinese girl slipped out the back door. “I’m glad you came,” she whispered. She looked terrible. Even in the first light of dawn, Sarah could see she was thinner than ever. The old bruise on her cheek had faded, but now she had a new, bigger bruise on the other side.
“Did you find out anything?” Sarah held her breath.
Anming nodded. “Mr. Hannibal Palmer was there that night with some of his men. He’s the one who took the baby away.”
Sarah got a sudden knot in her stomach. “Do you know where he took her?”
“It wasn’t easy finding out.” Anming glanced uneasily at the back door. “Mr. Palmer and his wife have a fine house in Coloma. They say that’s where h
e took the baby, but I’m not sure.”
“And she’s all right?”
“As far as I know. That’s all I can tell you. I hope that helps, Sarah. I’m glad I was able to repay you.” Anming looked even more frightened than last time. “I can’t let them find me here. I must get back.”
She started away, but Sarah clasped her arm. “Wait, you mustn’t. I want you to come with me.”
Anming bowed her head. “Mr. Palmer is a powerful man. If I leave, he’ll find me. You’ll get in trouble, too.”
Jack had been silently listening. He stepped forward. “I’m familiar with Hannibal Palmer. He’s not going to hurt you. Come with us. You don’t have to stay here.”
“But where would I go?”
Sarah didn’t hesitate. “Don’t worry, you can stay with me.”
“With you?”
“Of course with me.” During the following minutes, Sarah used her best powers of persuasion before, finally, the fear faded from Anming’s eyes, and she firmly declared, “You’re right. I’m not a slave.”
“Go inside and get your things. We’ll wait right here.”
The faintest of smiles touched Anming’s lips. “I have no ‘things,’ Sarah, just the clothes on my back.”
The words touched Sarah deeply, but right now she couldn’t spare time for sympathy. She looked at Jack. He gave her a quick let’s-do-it nod. Sheltering the tiny Chinese girl between them, they departed the yard with considerable haste. Not until they reached Sarah’s campsite did she breathe a sigh of relief. She put Anming in her tent where she couldn’t be seen, then sat down outside with Jack. “She’s exhausted, and I think she’ll sleep—probably been working all night in that place. Do you think they’ll come after her?”
Jack shook his head. “Now that she’s gone, they won’t try to find her. One small Chinese servant is nothing to them. They only care about the swarms of Chinese who’ve sailed over from China and staked claims in the goldfields. From what I’ve heard, men like Hannibal Palmer will stop at nothing, even violence and murder, to roust them out, even though their claims are legitimate.”
Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) Page 17