by Jill Barnett
Duncan stood near the front wall, and Abner bent down and gathered the jagged pieces of the rare porcelain urn. He turned to Duncan and started flinging them at the huge man’s pitying face. His look made Abner sick! “Get out! Get out!” he screamed hysterically. “You stupid, dumb son of a bitch! I don’t need you!” He fell to his knees and scrounged up more ammunition, now throwing it in any direction. “It’s gone! Everything is gone.” His voice, already high-pitched and frazzled, cracked.
He grabbed a scorched metal box, still hot from the fire. It sizzled in his hand. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he grasped it tighter, gritting his teeth so hard his head and neck shook. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears edged through the corners. Finally he dropped the scalding box and stared at his hands. The hot, sharp corners charred vees into his palms, and he stared at them as if he were staring at Christ’s nail holes. He threw back his head and screamed, a howling, pain-filled scream that rent the air as it expelled his soul—and his sanity.
Chapter Eleven
What a night!” Lee sat on an empty vinegar barrel and wiped his blackened hands on his filthy trousers.
Kit, who was just as smudged, slumped against the hard hub of a wagon wheel and stared at half the DeWitt warehouse. The other half, the one that housed his storage, was gone. “I lost it, Lee.”
“There wasn’t a damn thing we could do, Kit.”
“If I hadn’t been so blasted anxious to make the Tabers pay through the nose, Jan’s load would have been sold elsewhere.” Kit turned to his friend. “You questioned my choice yourself, remember?”
“Oh hell, I didn’t mean—”
“I know you weren’t criticizing. Don’t you start feeling guilty, too. It was my doing, alone. But you were right, I wanted a taste of revenge so badly that I jeopardized Jan’s entire shipment and his children’s future.” Kit leaned his head back and stared at the sky. “God, what an ass I am. When I think of how I rushed the crew to get the shipment unloaded and stored.” He shook his head. “What time did the fire start?”
“Around midnight.”
“Two hours. They finished only two goddamn hours earlier. If I had only waited until tomorrow, the second cargo would have been saved.”
“Look, Kit, I know you’re feeling pretty bad right now, but remember, you’ve still got my load to commission, and it’s three times the size of Jan’s. Substitute it to Taber. You’ll still have your profit.”
“And what about Hallie” Kit snapped. “And the kids,” he said more quietly. He was tired and moody, but most of all he was damn mad at himself.
Lee looked startled, and then angry. Kit instantly regretted his outburst, and while he could blame his lapse on exhaustion. Lee had worked just as hard as he had. Before he could apologize, Lee spoke. “I haven’t forgotten about her.” He looked directly at Kit and added emphatically, “Or the rest of Jan’s children.”
Kit was silent.
“You’ll make a bundle from the sale of my load, if Taber’s paying what you say. You’d be able to support them.” Lee’s wry expression changed to one of concern. “Or is there something you’re not telling me? If you need money, Kit, or you’re in some kind of trouble, I’ll help out.”
“No, that’s not it. I’d have made enough from Jan’s contract to build my warehouse and still live well. With the profit from your load, I’ll be filthy with it,” Kit said, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. He pushed himself away from the supporting wheel and rubbed his hand over his tight neck muscles as he paced. “It’s just different now. I feel even more responsible for them. I told myself you were right about my involvement with those kids, that I could just dole out the funds and occasionally check on them. My duty would end there. Well, I could no more do that now than I could have spit on that fire and put it out.”
“Does Hallie have anything to do with your change of heart?”
Kit stopped pacing. “You know, you should have been a lawyer, not a whaler.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“Yes, it has to do with Hallie. When I went to check on her, I found her crying so damn hard. She looked helpless and pitiful, and in a moment of weakness I promised to help her. I told her I’d take over the burden of the children. She tries to do everything herself, and . . .” Having admitted this, Kit suddenly felt the urge to justify his reasoning with an excuse. “I figured I owed it to Jan, anyway, since he entrusted them to me, but the next thing I knew, she was being unreasonable.” Kit stopped speaking before the path of his words trespassed into forbidden territory—that of his less than paternal reaction to Hallie. And, too, Kit wasn’t all too keen about admitting to Lee how wrong he’d been about her reaction to the sale of the Sea Haven. Lee would have trouble hiding his “I told you so” look, and then Kit would have to hit him. And he was just too tired, especially when he knew he still had to talk to Hallie, to tell her the worst news yet. He had lost everything. He turned back to Lee. “I need go check on the Fredriksen place.”
“I want to go check on my ship.”
Kit nodded and they parted. Lee headed toward the bay, and Kit walked up the street, hoping to locate the nearest livery. But the one they frequented was no longer standing, and neither was anything else on that block.
People roamed through the rubble, gathering what they could salvage. As Kit walked farther, several wagons passed by him, carting away the massive amounts of burnt rubble. Then more wagons loaded with fresh lumber and brick flooded the streets. The district was already rebuilding, and the smoke hadn’t even cleared the bay.
It was probably natural, since this was the fifth fire in two years. San Francisco was experienced, and like the mythical phoenix, the city would rise, bigger and better, from her ashes. The more he walked, the more he realized how bad the fire had really been. Working all night on the warehouse had kept him too busy to know the extent of the damage, but now he was seeing it firsthand. The number of horse-drawn vehicles traversing the area told Kit that his chances of finding a horse or a team and wagon would be nil. It looked as if every conveyance in the city was being put to use in the burned district.
A quarter of an hour later he rounded the corner of Serra Street. In each direction blocks were demolished, to the degree that not one building, wood or brick, still stood. As he neared Hallie’s home, the destruction continued. Kit had assumed they would be safe since no fires had ever spread into the Happy Valley district.
But now he was struck by the possibility that Hallie and the children might not be safe. His tired legs moved faster as he raced toward the Fredriksen home. Wagons blocked his path, so he wormed his way through, stopping finally in front of the heap that had once been Jan’s home.
Looking at the devastation made his gut wrench, and he turned, pale-faced, toward the swarm of wagons. Just beyond, a group of men dug through the powdery heap of a brick building that had stood across the street. One man shouted, “Here’s two more!”
The men began to pull debris away, uncovering the dead bodies of the fire’s victims. The sight made Kit break out in a deep sweat. Afraid to ask the question but knowing he must, he walked to where one of the men stood, fastening a canvas tarp over a wagon. “Have they searched that house yet?” Kit pointed to Hallie’s home.
The man stared at him briefly. “Nope, they was some of the lucky ones; they got out.”
Kit breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, he still had to find them. “Did you hear where they went?”
“I was here, fighting the fire, when they escaped.” He straightened the tarp and checked the rope ties. “One of them, a tall blond, come barreling outta the door, burning like the hubs o’ hell. I thought she was a goner for sure. Heard tell someone put the fire out, but next time I looked up,” he spun around to face Kit, “they was gone—” The man scratched his head in bewilderment and searched the empty spot where Kit had stood only momen
ts before. The man shrugged and then continued his work.
Beyond the work crowd, Kit raced up the steep street, stopping every so often to question someone, anyone, who might have seen the Fredriksens.
Five hours later Kit still hadn’t found them. He’d been to three volunteer centers and every makeshift hospital he could find, and still he had no news. Most of those who might have known Hallie and the kids had been displaced by the fire. He’d checked all the places he’d thought they might go, and though he’d heard there had been a shelter on Telegraph Hill, someone said the victims had been moved out by noon. Before he checked out this last lead, he made his way toward Oatt’s, thinking that they might have gone there for clothing or supplies.
But when he arrived, the mercantile had a line so long it looked like the Pike Street Post Office on mail steamer day. Men stood in their knit underwear, barefoot, with blankets or coats flung over their shoulders, and women, dressed in assorted nightwear, wrapped their makeshift coverings tightly from neck to foot. From the adjacent alley a clerk wheeled out a cart heaped with articles of clothing, and the victims of the fire clamored to purchase garments of any kind from the mishmash of goods available.
Kit edged into the alleyway, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He hurried to the side door and whipped inside. The storeroom appeared ransacked. Trunks, boxes, and crates were upended from one side of the small room to the other. He stepped over the mess and made his way to the draped doorway. The store’s interior could only be described as absolute chaos. There must have been over fifty people sardined into the place, and everything from stockings to bags of coffee beans flew through the air like goose feathers on plucking day.
A small, harried, bald man plowed through the doorway, stopping to catch a panicked breath. He jumped when he saw Kit, but recognition lit his face almost immediately. “Whew. Kit, you startled me! What’re you doing back here? As you can see, there’s not much left.”
“I’m sorry, Charles, I just need some information. Have any of the Fredriksen bunch been in here? They were burned out and I can’t locate them. I heard Hallie, the oldest, was hurt.”
“They were here earlier, bought a few things, and I’ve a larger order to fill and deliver as soon as I can. Miss Fredriksen looked all right to me, considering the circumstances. They looked like everyone else. Half-dressed and a little scorched, but not hurt badly.”
“Where are they?”
“On their father’s ship, the Sea Haven. I’m to have the goods delivered to the east end of the Broadway Wharf.”
The Sea Haven. Of course! “Thanks, Charles. By the way, I’ll be handling everything for them now. You heard Jan was killed on the last voyage?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. Too bad, though, he was a good man.” Charles Oatt pushed away from the doorjamb and shook his head. “That’s quite a brood. I don’t envy you.” He cringed when the clatter from the other room rose a full octave higher. Eyeing the doorway with a look that was part fearful and part annoyed, he added, “Well, I’ve got to get back in there. Do you need anything?”
Kit shook his head. “No.”
“Good. I doubt I’d know where to look.” He walked to the side door and opened it. “I need to bolt this after you. God forbid if some of that hoard were to come through here, too. They’d demolish the place.”
Kit moved down the alley and onto the street, his worries relieved after talking to the store owner. Hallie and the children were alive, and contrary to what he’d heard, she was unharmed. Now that he thought about it, he really should have guessed their whereabouts. It made perfect sense for them to go to the ship. The Sea Haven was familiar and should be relatively safe. By now the crew would have signed on elsewhere. They’d understood Kit’s plans, and experienced, able-bodied seamen had no trouble securing a place on another ship. Gold fever still lured sailors from their ships, and finding replacements for them was a burden that plagued most sea captains.
Locating Hallie on the ship would be so much easier than combing the streets, as he had been. Yes, it was a smart thing to do. Hallie had really used her head.
“Here, let me try,” Dagny said, pushing Hallie’s frustrated hands away. She wedged her fingers under the little, black satin shoulder ribbons and tried to pull upward. Nothing happened. Well, something did happen. The burgeoning swells of Hallie’s large breasts wiggled in the dress bodice like a jellyfish atop the sea.
“Oh drat!” Hallie looked down at the dress, the scarlet silk and black beaded lace gawked right back. “How am I supposed to wear this in public?”
“Just don’t speak French, and you’ll be fine,” Dagny said.
But Hallie just stood there, forced into a low-cut and gaudy dress. She was just mentally translating a scathing French comeback when Liv ran through the cabin doorway.
“Why shouldn’t she speak French?” Liv asked.
The two older sisters eyed each other, both seeking some fabricated answer because they knew they couldn’t explain to Liv that in San Francisco being French and being a prostitute were synonymous.
“Never mind!” Hallie and Dagny responded simultaneously.
“Hmmp! I thought so. Whenever I hear anything really good, you two tell me to never mind. How am I ever supposed to learn anything if you won’t tell me?” Liv plopped her impudent little bottom on a bunk. “Next time Reverend Treadwell asks me what I’ve learned, I’m going to tell him nothing, and that it’s all your fault. You’re stippling me!”
Hallie frowned. “Stipple?”
“I think she means stifle,” Dagny clarified.
“Oh. Well, young lady,” Hallie looked at Liv with a nonchalance she was far from feeling, “since the school burned down, you won’t have to worry for a week or so. Agnes said it will take that long before the reverend can start classes again. So you needn’t concern yourself with all that learning. And I would hate to think either Duggie or I were ‘stifling’ you. If you’re really afraid of falling behind, I could make sure you learn. I would teach you myself, all day, every day, in this cabin . . .”
Liv’s open mouth clamped shut. After a few pregnant seconds, she rested her elbow on her swinging, gangly legs and watched her sisters fiddle with the low-cut dress.
In the mirror above her father’s ship sink, Hallie caught Dagny’s reflection. Hallie was envious. Dagny wore a lovely, pale blue dress with deeper blue stripes which seemed to accentuate her petite and delicate form. When they had left the volunteer station that morning, Hallie herded them straight to Oatt’s to get clothing and supplies. For Hallie, the available clothing was limited.
There must have been thirty dresses that would fit petite Dagny, but there were only three pieces that would accommodate Hallie’s bust, and only two of the three were dresses. One dress was made for someone under five feet. Hallie could have worn her mother’s ruffled pantalets with it, and she would have looked like a shepherdess guiding her little lambs. The red thing she had on was the other dress, and while it covered her long legs, it didn’t cover much of her chest, and the color was blinding.
“Hallie?”
“What, Liv?”
“I think you’ve got your dress on backwards.”
Hallie dropped the dress bodice. That did it. She fumbled at the dress hooks and in a frustrated voice asked, “Would you two please go check on the boys and dig up something in the galley for supper?”
Dagny pulled a protesting Liv from the small cabin, and when the door closed, Hallie tore off the dress. She couldn’t wear this. She walked over to the other bundle of clothes, unfolded them and laid them out on the bunk. She took off the one petticoat she’d bought and tossed it and the red dress onto a heap of rope in the corner.
Hallie put on her corset cover and heaved a relieved sigh. Now her deep cleavage was safely concealed by the high neckline of the linen undergarment. Then she picked up the
frilly, white chemisette and slipped her arms through its sleeveless armholes.
Sitting on the bunk, Hallie looked at the remaining pieces of the reform dress. She set the short, blue jacket aside and tried to understand the fit of the lower two pieces. She reached into the brown wrapping paper and pulled out the sketch Mr. Oatt had given her from a past Godey’s Ladies Book. Strange though the billowy bottoms were, they really did look comfortable. And the seams would better protect her bandage. The bulk of the wound dressing was knotted high on her thigh, and when she walked, it chafed her tender skin. She pulled aside the inside seam opening on her drawers and eyed the bandage. It covered her leg from ankle to upper thigh, and despite the soothing salve, underneath the cloth strips it still felt like her skin was being eaten right through.
Hallie wobbled slightly as the ship creaked and rocked from a sharp gust of wind. Although her leg was hot, she was chilled, and with good reason. There was no coal in the small cabin brazier, and the late afternoon breeze was whipping its way across the bay, chilling the damp ship and turning the interior air downright cold. Hallie picked up the other garments and began to dress, hoping that the advertisements hadn’t lied about the practicality and warmth of Amelia Jenks Bloomer’s healthful but bizarre new attire.
Chapter Twelve
Kit swung his leg over the side of the Sea Haven and leaped onto the deserted deck. The northwest wind blew in short spurts, whipping flecks of ash from his dark, unruly hair. He brushed it aside, and as he walked toward the steerage and down the companionway, he could smell the stench of smoke from his gritty clothes. He needed a bath, but first he needed to see for himself that Hallie and the others were unharmed.
“Hello! Is anyone aboard? Helloo!”
The two small cabins in the aft were empty. Jan’s cabin was just beyond, and Kit opened the door.
Hallie was inside, and she was all right. At least, he thought it was Hallie. She was bent over tying something around her ankle, and that fanny sure looked like hers, even if there weren’t any leaves on it this time. “Hallie?”