by Caryl McAdoo
The man probably wouldn’t even be there. She and Hank would deliver his goods, then she’d be gone after a quick look around.
She could wear any old thing. It didn’t matter.
Contrary to what she’d convinced herself of the night before, that next afternoon, when she climbed aboard her wagon, she wore her new cranberry dress with her pink shawl and bonnet.
Pushing her weekly bath up a few days, she splurged on a bit of rose water, too, the real high-priced stuff she hardly ever used.
Hank had trouble keeping his eyes on the road, so cute. “Wow, it’s coming right along.”
She glanced at the young man who clearly fancied her, smitten silly. “You sure this is it?”
He made that all too plain a long time ago. Pulling the mules around to the rear of the structure, he expertly backed close to the three-story monster that rested atop a small knoll, halfway up Nob Hill.
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t ya remember when me and Mister Virgil delivered that load of fancy boards Mister Edward had shipped in?”
The view amazed her. What a difference getting up high made. “Yes, I do, now that you mention it. So this is it. Yes, I guess it is definitely coming along.” She fell silent as the boy set the brake and hopped down.
Grounds still needed work, but the gardens Edward had told her about were really taking shape. She loved it. Made the house Daddy built for Mama seem quaint. She could hardly wait to see the inside.
To her surprise and great pleasure, Edward suddenly appeared at the wagon’s side, holding his hand out toward her. “Mary, what a treat, you coming with Hank. I take it those are my fixtures in the back of the wagon.”
“Yes, sir.” She let him help her down then held his hand as he led her inside. “It’s beautiful, and that view…”
“Isn’t it great? You’ll have to come sometime at sunset. Come see how she’s coming along. You can probably give me a few ideas, help me make some decisions.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Her cheeks warmed.
He took her straight through to the double front doors then wheeled around. The grand entry hall reached up all three stories. A wide, magnificent circular stair wound around all the way to the top.
Workmen hurried about almost everywhere she looked. Counted better than a dozen then stopped trying. Each room he showed her, impressed her all the more.
Wasn’t a house at all, more a mansion.
“ ’Scuse me, Miss Mary.” Hank touched his hat. “I’ve off-loaded Mister Edward’s goods.”
“Thank you. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Wait, you’ve come all this way, and there’s no need to go now. I’ve got to go to town myself. I’d count it a blessing to drop you off later. I have a supper meeting with Prescott and pass right by the Mercantile.”
Her heart picked up its beat. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”
“None. I promise.”
Everything couldn’t be working out any better if she planned it herself. Of course, there wouldn’t be a chaperone, but who’d know? She didn’t answer to anyone anyway. She faced the boy. “You know your way back then?”
“Yes, ma’am, for sure.”
“Well.” She turned and gave her handsome new chauffer her sweetest smile. “I’ll see you there later.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy disappeared.
Edward continued his tour. Every room had a different wood or stone or special something or other that he pointed out. Talk about cute, like a kid with a new toy, so proud.
But rightfully so, the man obviously knew exactly what he wanted and had excellent taste. Engrossed with the process of getting it all how he wanted, he saved the room she loved the best for last.
His library office even had its own fireplace. At least twice the size of her daddy’s, it reeked luxury.
Edward had imported the wood all the way from Brazil. Three of the paneled walls featured floor to ceiling bookshelves out of the same cumaru wood, so rich and lovely.
His desk, custom built from a British ship sunk in the War of 1812, was absolutely striking.
“My daddy fought the Battle of New Orleans with Jackson.”
“Yes, Levi mentioned that.” He retrieved a bottle from the credenza behind his desk and poured two tiny little glasses half full then extended one to her. “A toast to my girl.”
Surely he had not referred to her, had he? She took the offering. What would one little toast hurt? “Your girl?” Good heavens, she didn’t say that out loud. Somebody please tell her she had not just asked him that.
“The place.” He grinned and lifted his glass turning it slowly. “I haven’t decided on her name, but she’s definitely my girl.”
“Your home, yes, of course. Let’s toast your girl by all means. She’s positively a beauty.” She clinked his little glass with hers then downed her drink. “Wow. What is that? It’s like honey fire, and oh, it burned so good all the way down.”
“Brandy, straight from France.” He poured her another.
Being such a small amount, two wouldn’t hurt, but that time, she wouldn’t toss it like hard liquor. Sipping made it taste even better, and it barely burned at all, just a little, and oh so good. It tasted splendid. “Brandy is wine, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Correct.”
She held her glass out, trying to give it back, but he filled it again, then moved in close, much too close. Time to get out of there. She tossed the drink, dropped the glass then put her hands on his chest. “Edward, we...”
He bent over and held his mouth only inches from hers, lips parted. For a few beats of her heart, she held her ground, then reached up and pressed her lips against his. He tasted so good, those full lips of his so soft.
She let her hands fall, and he wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her for real. She melted into him. Exactly what she’d been dreaming of, Mis’ess Edward Clinton. He loved her, and had done all this…for her.
He stopped outside the Mercantile, set the brake, then ran around and opened the buggy’s door. Mary filled her lungs then took his hand.
“You’ve been so quiet, my darling. I hope you don’t have any regrets.”
“It’d be so hard to say I regretted going to the moon, but…” She stepped down and touched his chest. “Do you have to leave?”
“Yes, if I close this deal tonight; but I’ll only be gone a few weeks. I’ll send word either way.”
She nodded then strolled into the store as though this most wonderful of afternoons was like any other.
Jethro retrieved his pad, noted another question for Brother Paul or Moses or whoever wanted to answer. Oh, Lord, how can I understand all this without some help?
Movement caught his eye. He let the chair rock forward, grabbed the long gun that rested against the cabin, and laid it over his lap. The driver stood and waved. Elijah. Good, him and the boys were back, and only one day late.
He went back to his Bible study as the mules picked their way up the hill. Wagon sure looked a dingy white. Why had they put the canvas on? Guess it didn’t really matter. Mornings were a bit chilly.
Elijah reigned the mules to a stop short of Moses’ porch.
“Have troubles? I expected you yesterday.”
“Sorry, boss.”
Ned jumped down, smiled and threw a nod toward their cabin. “Got any beans boiling?”
“No, but feel free. I snared a rabbit, too. You can get him to roasting if you want.”
“Yes, sir.” Ned glanced at his cousin, who sat on the wagon’s bench with his head hanging down. The older boy grinned then hurried off.
Jethro decided to wait on Cody and the new boy who hid in the wagon. “You find any Bibles?”
“Yes, sir, sure did; bought five, all used.”
“What about a printer? Sacramento have one?”
“Yes, sir, a newspaper man has set up shop. Says he takes on side work.”
“Get a good look at his press?”
“Yes, sir, just like you ask
ed. Wouldn’t be easy, but we could build one.”
“He interested in selling?”
“No, said black ink ran in his veins, but he might consider taking on a partner if the price were right.” Well now, that was interesting. A trip to the capital might be in order. “Cody.”
The boy looked up. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“For what are you sorry?”
He looked away then back. A pained expression screwed his face all up. “I sinned and fell short.”
“Did you get drunk?”
“Yes, sir, and this whore…”
Elijah punched his arm. “Young fool! Nowhere is it written you’re bound to tell everything you know. Mister Jethro don’t want to hear about no sporting ladies.”
“He’s right. Go help Ned. We’ll talk about it later.”
The boy flew off the wagon and ran up the hill. Jethro leaned sideways. “Who’s our new friend there?”
The boy, maybe sixteen tipped his hat. “Amos, sir.”
“I hired him, him and his little brother.”
“He’s got a brother?”
Amos reached back and pulled out a miniature version of himself, all the way down to about the dirtiest face and biggest hat Jethro had ever seen on a kid. Oh, Lord, got myself a mine here or an orphanage?
SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME
Jethro closed his eyes. He’d just read that scripture yesterday. Like the Lord knew who would be coming today.
“He don’t eat much, sir, and you don’t have to pay him. He works hard, but he ain’t that strong, so feed is all and a place to sleep.”
“Where’d you find these two? Where’s their folks?”
Elijah looked to Amos then back. “A long tom busted, fell on their dad and broke his back. Died two days later. Their ma lasted until Amos got all the dust panned out. Next morning, she lit out with the mule, gold, and anything else of value before they even got up. I found them on the way here.”
“We got an uncle in San Francisco, if he ain’t done gone, but that lady—she weren’t our ma anyways. Pa ordered her through the mail.”
Elijah scooted away like the boy had turned into a rattler. “You can order a wife in the mail?”
“Yes, sir, but he didn’t get no prize. She be a good ten year older than him and ugly! Oh, man, she were a rough old gal. But she could cook.”
“What’s little brother’s name?”
“Francis, but only answers to Shorty.”
The little feller climbed out of the back. He stood on the wagon’s seat and put his hands on his hips with a glaring I-dare-you smirk plastered on his mug. Cute little cuss, looked maybe five or six. Jethro jerked his hand toward his shoulder, thumb out, but before any words escaped –
TAKE HER TO MARY, SHE NEEDS A MOTHER
Chapter Eighteen
What? Jethro stood. He walked closer and eyed Shorty hard. Behind all the bluff and bluster, fear swam in her eyes. “Elijah, offload any supplies. I best take the two young’uns to town. See if we can find their uncle.”
“This afternoon?”
“That’s right. Now get the lead out. I’d like to get off this mountain before dark.”
The boy whistled up some help, then once he had the others working, Jethro pulled him aside. “You remember all the places I stashed the guns?”
“Yes, sir, but we’re not going to need them. Nobody ever comes up here but us.”
“It’s just…I’ve had this nagging.” The thought hadn’t let up since it started in J. Pierce Prescott’s office. Almost overwhelmed him at times. Never been much of a gun man, however, if claim jumpers showed up, that’s all they knew.
“Moses isn’t a thief. I’m not. And you for sure aren’t.”
“You’re speaking truth. Still, what has that got to do with anything?”
“Jethro, sir, you read it to us the other day. Whatsoever a man sows, that’s what he reaps.”
“Yes, we read that, what of it?” He hated this boy throwing the scriptures at him like he understood them, especially when Jethro kept getting so balled up over them. If he’d seen something though, then….
“Wouldn’t you agree that we’ve been sowing minding our own business? So ain’t we going to reap the same?”
“True.” He’d figured that scripture meant you plant bad seed, that’s what you get—a bad harvest. Or sow corn, you don’t get beans. But maybe the boy had a point. “Still, you keep a sharp eye out. Take turns standing watch.”
Elijah glanced at the boys then back. “Why you heading out like this? Was you just waiting on us to get back?”
“No.” Jethro chuckled. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Yes, sir. How about me and the boys try out that new blasting powder?”
He hated that idea. “They have those new fuses we been hearing about in Sacramento?”
“No, but there’s something I’m hankering to try. Been thinking on a fuse of my own making. And we’ve got everything I’d need.”
“I suppose, but use the utmost care. You hear? You get a dud, no going anywhere near the mine. Understand? Not until I get back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find something else to do. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”
Cody whistled then cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’re done, Mister Jethro.”
“What about him, sir? Want me to whip him for you?”
“No.” Jethro shook his head thinking of some of his own youthful choices. “Tell him next time he stays here, and just you and Ned will go.”
“Yes, sir. He’ll hate that, but he don’t need to be going anyway.”
Forty-three days. What could he be doing? Mary closed her inventory book.
Putting it in its place, she thought back. That first note came like he promised, followed by a half-page letter two weeks later, but neither one had any sweet talk, just what things Edward wanted her to see about with the house for him. He had to return before long. She wanted to marry as soon as possible.
Oh, Lord, send him home to me.
The front door bell tinkled. Of all the people to walk into her store—Jethro Risen. And he had two dirty boys in tow.
“Morning, Mary.” He looked to the bigger one. “This here’s Amos.” He smiled then pointed to the diminutive dirtiest urchin she ever laid eyes on, this side of her little brother. “And this young lady is Francis, but she prefers Shorty.”
He reached around her brother and pulled off her cap. Greasy, matted locks fell to her shoulders.
“Hey, that’s mine!” She grabbed at her hat, scowling. “I ain’t no sissy girl neither! Tell him, Amos.”
The boy kneeled beside her then wrapped his arms around his sister. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Hush, Shorty.”
Mary stood, looked from the child to Risen. “Would you be so kind as to tell me exactly what is going on here? What are you doing with these children?”
“Well, seems their father got himself killed—mining accident. And his mail-order bride lit a shuck, took everything they had. Elijah found them on the road coming home from Sacramento, and…Here we are. She needs you, Mary.”
“Me? Why, what are you saying, Mister Risen? I am in no position to…I can’t…I already have….” The girl looked up at her, though she kept her chin tucked. Bless her precious little heart, so small. And thin.
In her eyes, the world’s weight overshadowed the glint of dare.
How could she?
Then again, how could she not?
“Don’t they have anyone?”
“Might be an uncle here in San Francisco, but I figured she ought to stay here with you while we look for him.”
Every single excuse her brain invoked, after only a moment’s consideration, unraveled, leaving her nothing to stand on. Besides, getting any reason not to help past her heart would be a miracle.
Did not expect God to offer one of those to get out of caring for this little girl. What if that was her baby? Or Bonnie? Or any of her littl
e sisters standing there scared, needing help?
“Bring her things in. She can stay for now.”
“They don’t have anything, except the clothes on their backs.”
She smiled at the poor little thing. How could someone be so hardhearted as to steal from this baby girl? “Mercy.” She glared at Risen. “First thing, you two go to Freda’s Haberdashery. She carries little girl dresses. Have Amos there run me one back, then get that boy a bath and some new clothes himself.”
Mary glanced at the little urchin, who glared and stuffed her hair back into her cap. “Don’t want no dress. If you get me anything, get me britches.”
“Make that two dresses, and bloomers, and….” She threw her hands up and turned her glare back on Risen. “Just tell Freda whatever a five or six-year-old will need. Measure her height to your leg so you’ll know her size.”
“I’m not a baby, and I hate dresses. I’m nine. Turn ten in the spring.”
“Sorry, Shorty.” No secret where she got her nickname.
Risen grinned ear to ear. “Anything else?”
“Shoes, get her a pair. You can use your hand for her shoe size. Now get a move on. I want that dress back here before her bath water gets hot.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Risen knelt, measured Shorty’s foot, stood and got her height on his leg, elbowed the boy, then backed toward the door.
Amos hesitated a moment then joined the man. “Won’t be long, Shorty.”
Miss Mattie took to the girl. Once she got the dirt off her face, she went to working on her filthy neck and fingers. “No need adding all this dirt to your bath water.”
As ordered, her big brother returned with everything needed all wrapped up in a nice package before Mary and the old dear had the girl’s wet hair combed out. All dressed, the little angel took a spin in front of the mirror.
Her expression failed to show anything but gratitude. She glared up at Mary. “Cain’t I wear britches?”
“No, ma’am, Little Missy. Why, that’d be just disgraceful. You ought to dress like the pretty young lady you are. Why don’t you want to?”
She backed away from her image as though disgusted with the transformation. “My brother says I should act like I’m a boy, not no sissy girl.” She swiped each hand at her dress then tugged on her high neckline.