To a man, the sailors’ expressions hardened, and she saw several hands clench into fists. This could get out of hand quickly.
“It’s okay. I’m not hurt.” She forced a smile and flashed it equally between both groups. “No harm done.”
She might as well have not spoken for all the attention paid to her. Narrow-eyed glares were exchanged as the men on both sides moved to stand shoulder to shoulder in two lines facing each other.
The spokesman for the sailors, Terry, turned his head and spat without interrupting his glare at Big Dog. “Who you callin’ bilge rat, dirtbag?”
Swallowing, Kathryn lifted her chin and spoke loudly. “Really. I’m fine. And I did ask for their help.”
“I think he was talking to you, bilge rat.” Big Dog took another step forward, and as one the line of millworkers moved with him. “Only maybe he should have said squid.”
In the face of a glare from a mountainous man like Big Dog, Kathryn would have melted into her boots. The seaman did no such thing. Incredulous, she watched as his chest inflated and a furious grimace settled over his mouth.
“I’m gonna swab the deck with your ugly carcass.”
As the last word left his lips, the man pulled back a balled fist and, quicker than she could blink, landed a shot on Big Dog’s jaw. The crack seemed to resonate in a pregnant silence that lasted a fraction of a second. That was how long it took the huge man to land his own punch and send the seaman sprawling in the mud.
That blow ignited a wildfire. The two lines flew at each other and her ears filled with growls, shouts, and the sickening thud of fists on flesh. Someone was thrown backward, and she was almost knocked off her feet when he glanced off her shoulder on the way to the ground.
“Get outta here, Miss Kathryn,” shouted Murphy as he picked himself up and dove back into the fray.
She did. With a speed that would have made the cavalry proud, she lifted her skirts and dashed across the short distance to the dock, where she turned to watch in dismay as her friends defended her honor.
“G’night, Don,” Jason called with a wave for the evening shift foreman. “If you need anything, send a message up the hill.”
The man acknowledged Jason from his position near the head rig before returning to his work. Jason nodded his farewells at the workers he passed on his way to the shack’s exit, where Will waited. As soon as the blockhouse was finished, he intended to spend his evenings here, working alongside Don so he could get to know him as he had Will. Henry had given him a frank rundown on the strengths and weaknesses of both men yesterday.
“Donald’s a good operator.” Seated behind his desk in the crowded office, he’d leaned over the surface toward Jason and kept his voice low. “The men respect him. But he doesn’t read, and when he adds two and two he comes up with twenty-two. That’s why I couldn’t give him your job.”
One question answered, at least. Jason had leaned on his hands, which were planted on the edge of the desk, and asked in an equally low tone, “And what about Will? Seems to me like he would make a fine mill manager.”
“Trying to give away your job already?” Henry had grinned up at him, and then waved off his protests. “Truth be told, I offered him the job. He turned it down on account of his grandson. Said he couldn’t expect Louisa Denny to keep the boy day and night.”
As he passed by the engine, which chugged along with a satisfactory rumble, Jason watched Will talking with one of the men who was making an adjustment to the rollers. It couldn’t be easy raising a boy alone. The fact that the man took the task so seriously spoke well of him. If he’d had a son when Beth died…
He shied away from the thought and the accompanying stab of grief. Lengthening his stride, he approached the pair.
“Everything all right here?” He inspected the roller where it connected to the infeed deck.
“Fine.” Will slapped the man on the back. “Coleman knows what he’s doing. Been here since Henry built the place.”
Coleman’s chest swelled at the praise, and Jason nodded his approval. Then he and Will left, walking side by side down the narrow street that skirted the inlet. A load of logs was floating there, waiting to be milled. Jason and Will shared the companionable silence of men who worked together, respected one another, and were quickly becoming friends.
When they reached the intersection where Jason turned to go up First Street toward the blockhouse, Will stopped.
“I’ll join you shortly. Want to go check on John William first.”
Why, then, wasn’t he heading up to the Denny home? Jason started to ask, but at that moment the sound of men’s shouts reached him.
“What in the world?”
He whirled and looked in the direction the noise had come. There, a few yards past the wharf, a brawl was taking place. It didn’t take more than a glance to recognize Big Dog, and the flash of red hair beside him had to be Red. Half the brawlers wore flannel, the other uniforms, all of them covered in mud. And no wonder. As he watched, Big Dog grabbed a sailor in his powerful hands, lifted him bodily, and tossed him to the ground. The man landed with a splat that sent mud showering the area. He rolled over and leaped to his feet, then charged back into the fray.
Jason’s gaze was drawn to a lone woman standing at the edge of the wooden dock. Even from this distance he recognized Kathryn’s profile. What in the world was she doing down here? Her posture stiff, she stood watching the fight with both hands clasped over her mouth.
He and Will exchanged a quick glance and took off at a run. Plowing into the battle, Jason headed toward Big Dog, who seemed to be at the center of the melee.
“Hold off!” When the huge man drew back a fist in preparation for landing another punch on the sailor in front of him, Jason hooked an elbow around his arm and held tight. “Stop this right now!”
Big Dog tried to shake him off, lifting Jason completely off his feet, but then caught sight of his face. He hesitated, and for a second Jason thought he’d been successful in stopping the fight. In the next instant, pain exploded in his face and he found himself on his backside, rubbing his jaw.
“Hey!” bellowed the big man. “That’s my boss, you stinking squid.” He charged forward to retaliate.
The blast of a gun from somewhere behind him stopped the fight. Jason turned to see a horse galloping toward them, Noah Hughes in the saddle with a rifle aimed straight into the air. The men grew still.
“What is going on here?” His shout held almost as much force as the gunshot. “I looked down here from up on the knoll to see a bunch of men rolling around in the mud, beating each other bloody.”
“They insulted a lady.” Red stood straight, his nose held high with self-righteous indignity. “No man among us is gonna let ’em get away with that.”
“We were helping her.” A sailor nearby shot a poisonous glare toward Red. “She asked us to help.”
Big Dog folded his arms across his powerful chest. “Didn’t look like help to me. You were tossing her back and forth like a rag doll.”
Heads turned toward the dock, where Kathryn stood as though frozen in place. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates. She lowered her hands from her mouth, and cleared her throat. “M–my wagon got stuck in the mud.” Tears trembled in her voice, and Jason almost felt sorry for her. “I didn’t mean to cause”—she swept a hand toward the men, who were a sorry sight indeed, covered in blood and mud—“this.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Sounds to me like a misunderstanding.”
“It weren’t neither!” shouted someone Jason couldn’t see.
“Yeah, and we ain’t about to let no dirty—”
“Hold it right there.” Jason cut the man off before another insult could reignite the brawl. He picked himself up off the ground and cast a stern glance around the group. “Let’s all go about our business. I know my crew has somewhere to be. And if you sailors don’t, maybe we ought to send someone over to the ship to see what Captain Gansevoort has to say about the matter.”
The suggestion brought the desired effect. The sailors began snatching up their hats and making a hasty retreat.
When they were gone, Noah nudged his horse toward the dock. “Are you all right?” he asked Kathryn.
She gave a shaky nod.
He addressed the men. “Why don’t some of you get that wagon out of the mud so Miss Bergert can be on her way?”
Jason stood off to one side while they hurried to obey. When the wagon stood on more or less solid ground, they helped her onto the bench. In a trembling voice, Kathryn thanked them over and over for coming to her aid. When Noah suggested that some of the men see her safely back to the Faulkner House, she protested that she had to deliver the sandwiches to the blockhouse. They headed in that direction, Noah walking his horse beside the wagon and her rescuers surrounding her on all sides.
Jason stood watching their departure, running a tentative finger over what was rapidly becoming a swollen jaw. An experimental wiggle told him it wasn’t broken, thank the Lord.
Will came up beside him. “What did I tell you about that woman? She’s trouble.”
Surprised at the vehemence in his voice, Jason looked at the man. “I’m not sure this was her fault.”
“Of course it was,” he snapped. “What did she expect, hanging around the docks by herself? What was she doing down here anyway?”
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at a row of shacks lining the waterfront. “Maybe she had an errand.” Jason kept his tone carefully even. What had Kathryn done to provoke Will’s anger? Obviously something more than a visit to the wharf.
Unpleasant laughter erupted. “An errand involving a boatful of sailors?”
The crude insinuation shocked Jason, especially coming from a man who was normally calm and even soft-spoken. “I don’t think that’s called for,” he said by way of mild reproof.
Will’s lips tightened. “You don’t know her kind. I do.”
Jason shook his head. Arrogant, irritating, occasionally flirtatious, and obstinate in the extreme. There was plenty to criticize about Kathryn. But whatever else she might be, she was a lady. Of that Jason was certain.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on her?” He studied the man. “What has she done to make you dislike her so much?”
For a moment, he thought Will might answer. Then the man jerked his head sideways. “Take my advice and cut a wide path around her.”
He walked off. Not toward town, but toward the shacks lining the waterfront. Jason stared after him for a minute and then shook his head. Somewhere in Will’s past he had been dealt a harsh blow by an untrustworthy woman. Unfortunately for Kathryn, she obviously reminded him of that woman.
Brushing the worst of the mud off the seat of his trousers, Jason took off for the blockhouse.
Will left Jason behind, barely mindful of the mud that sucked at his boots. A sick knot wrenched tight in the pit of his stomach. That woman hadn’t been here but a few days and already she’d caused a riot. Somehow she managed to slither her way into the affections of the men.
Well, he knew how. Hadn’t he seen her in action before? He kicked a chunk of wood out of his way with enough force to send it flying several yards. She was well aware of the effect her femininity would have on a bunch of woman-hungry men, and she didn’t hesitate to use it to her advantage.
Now it looked like even Jason was in danger of falling for her charms. That she had set her sights on the handsome mill manager Will didn’t doubt. He’d seen the way she looked at him when that sailor punched him, the way her gaze kept returning to him. Will shook his head. How could a sharp man like Jason not see through her schemes? Sure, she appeared innocent and frail, standing there on the pier watching the chaos she had caused. She even managed to look like she was close to tears. For all he knew, that might not have been faked. No doubt she’d bitten off more than she could chew when she played her flirtatious game with a boatload of sailors. She set out to enjoy a little sport with them, intent on spending an evening watching them vie for her attention. But then things had gotten out of hand.
What was she doing down here anyway? He lifted his head, searching the area ahead of him. An Indian woman picked her way across the muddy street, her feet bare and a wide, shallow basket propped on her hip. From one of the distant huts came the wail of a baby. High-pitched laughter drew his attention to the place where a group of children played at some game not far from where the familiar figure of Princess Angeline stood over a fire pit stirring a huge pot with a board. John William’s blond hair stood out starkly against the black hair of the Indian children.
An invisible hand snaked into his gut and squeezed. Had Kathryn come down here to see his grandson?
“John William!”
The children all looked up at his shout. John William’s face lit with a smile that would normally have warmed his grandfather’s heart. Today nothing could penetrate the chill that invaded his chest.
“Time to go.”
The child came obediently to his side. With a nod of thanks to Princess Angeline, Will turned and headed toward town with his grandson at his side.
“Are we going to the blockhouse?” the child asked.
“Not tonight.”
“But you said you’d show me—”
At a sharp glance, the boy fell silent. Will automatically shortened his stride so John William didn’t have to run to keep up, thoughts whirling in his mind. He couldn’t stand by and watch Jason get his heart handed to him by a trollop. Nor would he let her near John William. Somehow he would have to find a way to reveal the kind of woman she really was beneath that innocent mask she wore.
Ten
Wednesday, January 16, 1856
I don’t understand why he would tell me one thing and Princess Angeline another.”
Louisa’s brow knit together as she stacked sweet cakes on a platter for transport to the blockhouse late the next afternoon. For once little Inez was not underfoot, begging Kathryn to play dolls with her. She’d been invited to spend the day with the Morelands learning to sew.
“Maybe he didn’t want to worry you.” Evie handed a square of linen across the table for Louisa to cover the cakes. “After all, you are expecting a baby.”
“So?” A cross look stole over Louisa’s face. “I’m not an invalid to be fussed over. And I’m not a leper to be avoided, either.”
“Of course you aren’t.” Kathryn carried an empty crate from the storage room and set it on a chair to be loaded with sandwiches. “I’m sure he’s only avoiding you because he doesn’t want to upset you.”
“I don’t mean Will,” she said. “I’m talking about Jason Gates.”
Kathryn halted her work to peer at Louisa. “Jason avoids you?”
“Yes, he does. Whenever I enter the room, he makes an excuse to leave.” A petulant frown settled on her face. “It’s as though I’ve done something to offend him and Will, though I can’t imagine what.”
And Kathryn thought she was the only one he disliked. Although lately Jason didn’t seem to be as quick to avoid her as he once had. Probably because she had ceased speaking to him—about painting, or about anything else. Still, he had returned to the restaurant for breakfast, and even awarded her the occasional quick smile when she loaded his plate with an extra portion of the fried potatoes and onions for which he’d expressed a preference.
“Have you mentioned it to David?” Evie asked.
“Oh, him.” Louisa dismissed her husband with a wave. “He’s so obsessed with finishing the blockhouse he doesn’t think about anything else. When I mentioned it, he got that annoying solicitous look on his face and patted my hand and told me I’m imagining things. As though being in the family way has addled my brains.”
Evie picked up the tray of sweet cakes and grinned at her friend. “I can’t imagine David ever doubting your intelligence, dear.”
“Wait and see,” snapped Louisa. “When it’s your turn Noah will treat you like you’ve lost every bit
of good sense the Lord gave you.”
Evie went still. Kathryn glanced at her, noting the sudden whiteness of her face.
Louisa’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. She grabbed Evie’s hand. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. Forgive me.”
“It’s okay.” A brave smile flashed across her lips. “Really. Being a mother would be one of the greatest blessings of my life, but since I can’t have babies of my own, I’ll enjoy yours.”
She whirled and hurried into the storage room, but not before Kathryn spied the glisten of moisture in her eyes.
Louisa slapped a hand across her mouth. “David’s right,” she whispered. “My brains are addled.”
Kathryn gave her a sympathetic grimace when a distant voice drifted through the open window. “Ship in the bay!”
Louisa perked upright. “That must be the Leonesa.” She projected her voice toward the storage room. “Evie, did you hear that?”
“I did.” Evie returned to the room, her arms full of cooled bread loaves. She smiled with forced brightness. “I have an idea. As soon as we get these crates filled let’s go down to meet the ship. I haven’t seen Captain Johnson in months.”
Good. After yesterday’s disastrous errand, Kathryn had vowed never to venture anywhere near the waterfront alone. But in the company of her well-respected friends, she would be safe from further incidents. And she did so want to speak with the captain of the Leonesa. Maybe he carried Papa’s answer to her letter, hopefully in the form of additional funds and notice of his arrangements for her return to San Francisco.
She reached for a loaf and began to slice.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Captain Johnson smoothed his hair and replaced his hat, which he had removed when introduced to Kathryn. “If there’s a letter it’ll be in the mailbag, but no one contacted me about booking passage.”
They stood on the dock at the end of the pier where the Leonesa, sails lowered, had been moored. The crew worked to secure the ropes while the captain came ashore to greet the harbormaster, a man named James Garvey, whom she had not seen since he met the Fair Lady the evening she arrived.
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