However, he was probably already at the restaurant, and she really should get going. She began to walk quickly towards Nielson’s, which was on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Vallejo. The restaurant had a nice green-striped awning and gilded sign that glittered under the corner street lamp, and there was a couple just coming out of the entrance, letting loose a burst of conversation and clinking china. Annie hesitated when she got to the door of the restaurant. She had assumed that Nate would be waiting for her outside, and she didn’t want to go in if he wasn’t there yet. Looking at her watch again, she saw it was now almost twenty-five minutes after eight. Given how late she was, he might have simply gone inside.
Just as she put out her hand to grasp the brass door handle, a young boy ran up and said, “Mrs. Fuller? The gentleman asked me to give you this and said could you come straight to the house, he’s waiting there.”
The boy was just a little taller than Jamie, and he wore an enormous cap that nearly covered his eyes. She noted that his hand was very grubby as he thrust a small folded square of paper at her, which she took with surprise. She looked at the paper, and then thought she ought to give the boy a coin for his trouble, but when she looked back up from her purse she saw he’d flown, running down Columbus, quickly disappearing from view.
How odd! It’s not like Nate to be so rude. Maybe this is his way of throwing my desire for independence in my face.
She unfolded the paper and saw the number 506. This must be the number of his boarding house, and it would put the house well up the hill. She picked up her skirts and, waiting impatiently for a hansom cab to pass, she crossed Columbus and walked quickly by a large imposing cathedral, which she registered distractedly as St. Francis of Assisi. Once she crossed Grant, she stopped to look for the numbers on the doors to her left. There wasn’t another street lamp between the one she was standing under and one way at the top a very long and steep block, and the moon wasn’t visible yet, so she wanted to get her bearings before she went any further. She was definitely in the right block.
She began to climb past a series of row houses, whose front stoops came right down to the sidewalk. Both sides of the street featured the same architecture, as if they had all been built at the same time, and there didn’t seem to be anyone out and about at this time of night.
A disconcerting slab of emptiness loomed ahead, as if one of the houses had disappeared, and Annie found her heart beating more rapidly until she figured out that it was the entrance to a tiny alley. She hurried past the dark void and felt better when she saw by the house numbers that she was more than halfway to her destination. She was surprised to see the entrance to a second dark alley, just about six houses up from the first, but was heartened to see that several yards up one of the houses had a lighted lamp next to the door. I bet that’s Nate’s boarding house. He would have certainly made sure the light was on for me.
Chapter Forty-five
Saturday evening, November 1, 1879
“October: On the 11th an unknown man died in the City Receiving Hospital from injuries received at the hands of parties unknown.”
—San Francisco Chronicle, 1879
Nate was out of breath, cursing at what just three weeks out of the saddle and behind a desk had done to his stamina. He’d gotten a horse car pretty quickly to take him back to the center of the city, and there he’d made the decision to head up two blocks on foot and pick up Columbus Avenue, the new street that cut diagonally up from Washington to North Beach, like a miniature Market Street. Assuming that Annie had taken the Omnibus, which ran on tracks that still followed the old indirect zigzag path, he hoped to reach the restaurant about the same time she did. Within sight of his destination, he looked at his watch and saw it was twenty-five after eight. He had certainly made good time, but he was feeling winded and very disheveled.
Coming up to the intersection at Vallejo, he couldn’t see any sign of Annie standing outside Neilson’s. Maybe he had actually made it here before her. As he crossed the street, he looked west to see if she was walking up from the stop on Stockton, but the sidewalk was empty. However, as he looked to the right to make sure there weren’t any carriages coming down the hill, he saw the figure of a woman pause under the street lamp at the corner of Grant and Vallejo. He was sure it was Annie; he would recognize that erect carriage and absurd hat anywhere.
Why was she going up Vallejo? Would she be looking for him at his boarding house? Could this all be some elaborate scheme on the part of her matchmaking friends to get the two of them together?
Nate smiled at the thought. He could believe it of Mrs. O’Rourke, Mrs. Stein, and Kathleen to plan something this outrageous. They were formidable women. But, oh, how angry Annie would be! Yet, it really didn’t make sense that they would trick her into meeting him at his home. They were much too careful of her reputation.
Nate’s anxiety, which he had been holding at bay ever since Kathleen told him about the telegram, spiked, and he picked up his pace. Annie was now almost half way up the hill, just past the first of the two alleys that branched off Vallejo, and she seemed to be speeding up. He was now close enough to shout, and he had just opened his mouth to do so when a dark figure darted out of the second alley, and, in a blink of an eye, Annie disappeared.
Time first slowed to a nightmare pace as Nate sprinted up the half a block to the second alley, then it sped up as he rounded the corner and saw Annie struggling with a man trying to pull her deeper into the dark shadows of the alley. His only thought was to distract her attacker, giving Annie a chance to escape. So, he came at him from behind and wrapped his arms around him, pinning the man’s arms and using his own greater height to lift him off his feet. He felt more than saw Annie break away, because suddenly the man felt lighter and began to twist and kick in his arms. Nate shouted at Annie to run as he threw the assailant to the ground, just as he would do with a calf ready to be branded. He followed the man down and was trying to grab his arms and flip him so that he would be face down when he felt a sharp stab down his left side. Nate, seeing the knife in the man’s right hand, worked to get control of that arm while the assailant began a series of sharp jabs at his kidneys.
Nate had never tried to do serious damage to another human being; in fact, most of his fights had been with Billy, and he was always trying not to hurt him. But, when he heard Annie scream and realized she was still in danger, he knew this was a fight he needed to win, at all costs. So, he smashed his right fist into the man’s face, and, using the brief disorientation this caused, he grabbed the wrist that held the knife and snapped it, taking the knife from the now useless hand and throwing it down the alley.
Annie’s attacker, who was now screaming, head-butted him in the face and kneed him in the groin, the combination temporarily weakening Nate’s concentration. Before he regained his breath and his focus, the man lurched out from under him, gave him a savage kick in the ribs, and then ran down the alley, disappearing around the corner. Nate was trying to straighten out of the fetal position and stand when Annie appeared at his side. He gasped out, “Help me up. I need to follow him.”
“No, Nate, let him go. You’re hurt and in no shape to run after him.”
With sheer will power, he refrained from checking his privates and got to his feet, using Annie’s shoulder to help him rise to a semi-standing position. His head swam, and he thankfully leaned on Annie, taking shallow breaths to combat the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. In a few moments he felt able to stand up straight and he cupped her face with his hands, whispering, “Annie, love, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She rubbed her cheek against his left hand, like a cat, and said softly, “I’m fine, just shaken. Oh, Nate, who was he? Who would have known about your telegram telling me to meet you here?”
“Annie, I swear, I never sent that telegram. Thank heavens I happened to come to your house right after you left, and Kathleen told me about the message. This was clearly a trap of some sort.”
Ha
ving noticed a streak of dark wet material along her cheek, he said anxiously, “Annie, is that blood? You are hurt. He had a knife. Did he cut you?”
“I don’t think so. We need to get in better light. Nate, it’s your hand, there is a deep wound. We need to get you to a doctor.” Annie pulled out a handkerchief from her coat and pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers over to keep it in place.
She then began to tug at him, pulling him out of the alley onto the sidewalk. “Hurry Nate, where’s the nearest doctor in this part of town?”
Nate put out his hand to slow her. “Annie, I’m sure it’s just a scratch. Look, my boarding house is right up the street. Let’s go there. One of the other boarders is a medical student. He can take a look at me, and we can make sure you are all right, as well. Would that be acceptable? I will ensure that my landlady attends us. It will be entirely respectable.”
Annie turned quickly, gave his arm a little shake, and said, “Nathaniel Dawson, you are the most absurd man I have ever met. You just saved my life and almost got killed in the process, and you are worried about propriety? Sometimes I want to kill you myself. Now hurry up, if you bleed to death I swear I will never forgive you.”
For Annie, the next few minutes were a jumble of confused impressions that mostly focused on her unfavorable comparison between Nate’s boarding house and her own. A faint unpleasant smell of cabbage overlay a mustiness that suggested a house where windows were seldom opened or carpets cleaned, and the front parlor that Nate led her into was crammed with very ugly furniture, which appeared to be from the previous century. The maid that Nate summoned was slow to arrive, surly, and only when Nate yelled at her did she grudgingly go upstairs to get the medical student and the owner of the boarding house to come downstairs.
When the servant finally left the room on her errand, Annie rounded on Nate and exclaimed angrily, “How can you and your uncle live here? This is awful. I would be ashamed to charge anyone room and board for such dismal surroundings and service.”
Later, Annie admitted to herself that her anger really came from her mounting terror that Nate had been badly hurt. While he insisted that she take off her coat in order to check to make sure she hadn’t been cut, she knew he was the one who had suffered grievous harm. She could see a trickle of blood coming down his brow, a swollen bruise already appearing along his right cheekbone, and the handkerchief clutched in his left hand was bright red. When he reached up to pull the cord for the servant, he had winced and put his hand to his side, shoving aside his tailcoat. She’d had to swallow a small scream when she saw that there was fresh blood on his shirtfront.
In a mercifully short time, the medical student, a short stocky fellow with an enormous ginger handlebar mustache, came clattering into the room, satchel in hand. He took one look at Nate and said that they had best go to the kitchen, since this looked like it might be a messy business. That was where Mrs. Randall, the cook, and Mrs. McPherson, the boarding house owner, found them a few minutes later.
Annie wasn’t sure which woman was more outraged, but this was something she could handle while the medical student, Mitchell—she never did learn whether this was a first or last name—attended to Nate. Annie told the cook, using her mother-in-law’s most imperious voice, that she needed to get a basin and fill it with hot water. She then directed the maid, who had just straggled into the room, to get some of the clean kitchen rags. Finally, she announced that the two servants would then assist Mitchell in any way he required.
She then turned to Mrs. McPherson and thanked her profusely for offering to stay with her while Mitchell attended to Nate, saying, “I didn’t know what else to do. We were just leaving Nielson’s and looking for a hansom cab when this man accosted us, and Mr. Dawson bravely fought off the assailant. As you can see he was hurt, and I didn’t feel I could wait until we got to my home to attend to him, yet he was worried about my reputation if we came here. I assured him that no one would question your propriety, and that all would be quite right if I was under your protection. Therefore, I am quite in your debt. I couldn’t stand to leave until I know that Mr. Dawson’s injuries have been attended to, but with your presence here, no one would dare say a word. Thank you so much.”
Of course Mrs. McPherson hadn’t agreed to act as chaperone, but Annie had long ago discovered if you told someone how wonderfully they were behaving, they were usually too embarrassed to do anything else but comply with your wishes. Although she longed to go over and supervise Mitchell, she saw that the cook had stepped in and was holding the basin while Mitchell seemed to be cleaning the wound on Nate’s hand.
Instead, she asked if Mrs. McPherson could direct her to the facilities so she could clean herself up. Mrs. McPherson nodded graciously and announced that “the girl” would show her and then would make them both a nice cup of tea.
After washing her face with tepid water and re-pinning her hat in front of a dusty, smudged mirror, she returned to the kitchen to discover that Nate was now sitting shirtless while Mitchell was wrapping a piece of gauze around his palm. The cook and the servant were standing by looking quite appreciatively at Nate’s well-muscled torso, and Annie confessed to herself it was really quite an imposing sight. You wouldn’t think that a man as tall and lean as Nate would be so well proportioned. No wonder he had been able to pick up that wretched man and throw him down like he weighed nothing.
Mrs. McPherson moved in front of her, clearly taking her chaperone duties seriously, and directed her to a chair, where she would be sitting with her back to Nate and his ministering angels. Then, as the landlady poured out a cup of tea, she kindly told Annie that Mitchell had said that the wounds on Nate’s side and his hand were shallow, and that, although the side would need a few stitches, no important tendons or blood vessels had been damaged.
By the time Annie had finished her drink, Mitchell had completed his work, and Nate had come up behind her to thank Mrs. McPherson and to say that he would now be escorting Mrs. Fuller home. He put his right hand on Annie’s shoulder and squeezed hard, and she shut her mouth. Just this once she would take his lead, without arguing. The poor man certainly had had a difficult night. It was the least she could do.
While Annie was thanking Mrs. McPherson and her servants for their support, a sharp exclamation from Nate caused her to turn around swiftly, and she saw him standing looking down at his hands, which held her coat. She said, “Nate, I mean, Mr. Dawson, what’s wrong?”
Nate looked up at her, shook his head, and said, “Excuse me, I need to run upstairs and change out of this shirt, I will be right down.” He then left the kitchen.
Annie laughed and said to Mrs. McPherson, “How like a man, he took my coat with him, will probably put it down somewhere, and we will be delayed looking all over for it. She then went over to shake Mitchell’s hand, saying in a low voice, “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. He’s going to be all right, isn’t he? Will it hurt him to take me home?”
“He won’t want to walk very far, but otherwise, he’ll be fine,” Mitchell replied. “I’ll check on him when he gets back. Mostly he’s going to be very sore in the morning.” With that Mitchell smiled, closed up his bag, and left.
Annie was forced to use the time waiting for Nate to continue to flatter his landlady, which required her to utter a series of whopping great lies; praising the good taste of the house’s decor and the efficiency of its servants. She was enormously relieved when Nate returned and they were able finally to leave.
As they stepped onto the sidewalk, she experienced an unexpected wave of fear. Clutching Nate’s arm, she said, “Oh, dear, you don’t think there is any chance that man is still around, do you?”
Nate put his arm around her and said, “No chance at all. You see, I broke his wrist. He won’t be doing anything until he gets it set. And he’ll no doubt have to report to whoever sent him after you. But we must talk, now, before we get in a cab. I need to know exactly what the man said, what he looked like, and we should co
nsider whether or not to go to the police.”
“No police. Can we even be sure he was after me specifically? It wasn’t just a robbery?”
“That’s what I want to determine,” Nate said. “Look, if we go up Vallejo to the top of the hill, there is a bench that overlooks the Bay. We would be private. After our talk, we can walk back down to Columbus, where, at this time of night, there should be plenty of cabs. It’s only a quarter past nine, I could still have you home by ten-thirty.”
Annie agreed, but began to regret this decision when she saw how slowly he was walking up the steep hill, and how stiffly he was holding himself. As they reached the bench at top of the street, she barely registered that they had a view of the whole moonlit Bay from this vantage. Instead, she focused on the ragged sound of his breathing.
This was a bad idea. I should insist that he take me right home, so he can go to bed, she thought. But she wasn’t ready to leave him. She was still too shaken. She couldn’t yet get the images out of her mind, Nate struggling to grab the knife and then being savagely kicked as he lay curled on the ground. Whatever would I do if he’d been killed?
Annie moved in close and felt Nate’s arms encircle her, and she stood there, listening to the beatings of their hearts.
Chapter Forty-six
Saturday evening, November 1, 1879
Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery Page 34