Waltz in the Wilderness

by Kathleen Denly

  But it didn’t quite reach her brilliant blue eyes.

  The woman scrutinized Eli and Pa in a head-to-toe glance so swift Eli almost missed it. The tiniest lift of her chin said they’d been found wanting.

  Eli scowled.

  The woman paused beside Uncle Henry, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Henry dear, I can handle this.”

  Uncle Henry opened his mouth, but the woman had already spun to face Eli and Pa.

  “I’m sorry. There seems to have been some misunderstanding with The Society. We are fully staffed.” The woman lifted a hand toward the door, signaling they should leave.

  Pa frowned. “But—”

  “I’m terribly sorry for your inconvenience, but truthfully, were we in need of services, I’m afraid you would not do.” The woman stepped around them toward the front door.

  Eli clenched her fists. This wasn’t the first time they’d been treated rudely, but she’d be hanged if she was going to stand here and take it from this slicked-up ninny. “We—”

  “While we are sympathetic to your plight, we must insist on a certain level of personal cleanliness and pride in appearance.”

  “Why, you...!” Eli stepped forward, ready to plant a sockdollager on the ninny’s smeller, but Pa caught her shoulders.

  “Cecilia.” Uncle Henry’s face had grown redder with the woman’s every word.

  She raised her free hand to silence him. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure they understand and there are plenty of positions with lower standards to which The Society can refer them.”

  Uncle Henry needed to bat Cecilia’s hand away as Pa would have Ma’s. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, clamped his lips together, and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Cecelia opened the door and poked her head outside, checking both directions before swinging it wide. “Now go, please, before someone sees you.”

  Uncle Henry’s eyes flew open. “Cecilia!”

  Cecilia jumped. She stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping, thankfully silent, mouth.

  Eli pressed her lips against a cheer.

  Uncle Henry spoke through his teeth. “Shut the door.” He waited for the woman to comply. “Cecilia, this is my brother, Jim, and his daughter, Eliza.”

  Cecilia gasped. “Your...”

  Eli sneered as the color drained from the ninny’s cheeks.

  Uncle Henry ran a hand down his face. “Jim, Eliza, this is my usually charming wife, Cecilia. I do hope you’ll stay for supper and allow us the opportunity to make amends for this...misunderstanding.”

  Pa kept hold of Eli’s shoulder as he accepted his brother’s proffered hand. “Of course.”

  Eli forced her pinched lips to curl upward. Dinner, fine. She’d never turn down free food. But as soon as she could, she’d convince Pa to escape this snooty home. And she just might shove haughty Cecilia into the mud on her way out.

  “Thank you.” Uncle Henry smiled at Pa, then narrowed his eyes at Cecilia. “They’ve had a long journey. Please instruct Martha to prepare rooms for them. I’m sure they would like to rest before joining us for supper.”

  “Yes, of course. You must be freezing in those wet clothes.” Now all stiff smiles and open arms, Cecilia ushered them into a nearby room, which had carved furniture and a blazing hearth. “Come, you can warm yourselves by the fire while I fetch Martha to prepare your rooms.” She hesitated, one fine brow arching. “I’ll have her heat water for baths as well.”

  Eli leaned back and rubbed her full belly through the soft, brown fabric of the maid’s dress that she’d been blackmailed into wearing.

  Two hours ago, she’d emerged from her bath to find someone had stolen her clothes. A pile of women’s garments sat in their place. Eli shouted for Pa. Instead of fetching her clothes, he gave her a choice—wear the dress or go hungry. So she’d tugged the impractical thing over her head. But left the undergarments where they lay. The ninny might choose to suffocate herself with corsets and petticoats, but Eli wanted to be ready to run if the need arose.

  A satisfying belch burst from her mouth and she had to admit—the meal was worth the sacrifice.

  Her gaze settled on Cecilia’s empty chair. Too bad the ninny had claimed a headache and disappeared. Her reaction might have been fun.

  Uncle Henry pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Shall we move to the drawing room, then?”

  Eliza’s eyelids tugged downward, but she forced them open.

  Pa set his napkin on the table. “Did Amanda send you Pa’s Bible when he passed?”

  Uncle Henry quirked a brow as Pa stood. “Yes. Along with a crateful of other things our sister thought I might like. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s in your study, I suppose.”

  Eliza eyed the door the servant had disappeared through. The kitchen must be that way.

  Uncle Henry clapped his hands together. “Would you like to see it?”

  Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? No. He was looking at Pa.

  Pa faced the hallway. “You get to bed, Eliza.” Without a glance in her direction, he strode from the room, Uncle Henry trailing behind.

  Eliza blew a strand of hair from her face. As much as she’d love to find the kitchen and see what else the cook had stored, her eyelids insisted on slamming shut. After a moment, she forced them open and pushed herself to stand.

  Instead of going to the room Cecilia had assigned her, she went to Pa’s. They needed to discuss his acceptance of Uncle Henry’s invitation for them to stay “as long as they liked.” Putting up with the ninny, the dress, and all the Davidsons’ daft ways of doing things for a single evening was one thing. What sort of halfwit needed to be escorted from one room to another? And what was with all those forks? But she was clean and her belly was full. It was time to find their clothes and vamoose. Eli flopped onto the fancy bed. Her fingers rubbed the soft blanket and she shifted. The puffy pillow crimped her neck. She yanked it out. Much better.

  Across the room, strings dangled from the edges of the curtains. How silly was that? Most folks worked hard to keep the strings in their things from showing. Here they added them on purpose. She closed her eyes, shutting out the fancy nonsense.

  Eliza bolted upright. What was that sound? And when had she fallen asleep?

  “Eli!” Pa shut the door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

  “What did you mean when you told Uncle Henry we’d stay here? I don’t want to stay here. I want to go.”

  Pa stepped back and crossed his arms. “Go where?”

  She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. But not here with that snooty woman and creepy servants and...and...” She picked at the mattress. “Can we just go now? Please? We’ll find a place. We always do.”

  His arched brow spoke volumes. “You want to go now? Sneak out in the middle of the night?”

  “We can leave a note. They won’t care anyway. Probably be glad to see the back of us.”

  Pa sighed. “Your mama must be rolling in her grave, the mess I’ve made of raising you.”

  Her gut cramped as the air rushed from her lungs. Why would he say that? She’d been trying so hard. Surely Mama wouldn’t be ashamed of her. Would she? Tears stung her eyes. “Pa?”

  His expression softened. He stepped forward and opened his arms. “I’m sorry, Eliza.”

  She scooted onto her knees on the bed and leaned into his bony embrace. His long arms didn’t hold the strength they had when she was younger, but the comfort was there all the same.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  She wanted to tell him it was all right, that she understood. The words stuck in her throat. She waited for him to explain his hurtful words about Mama, but he just held her. For a long time, they said nothing.

  “All right. We can stay the night. Morning is soon enough to leave.” She waited, but Pa didn’t answer. “We can stay for breakfast, too. That way you can say good-bye real proper, and we’ll have full bellies before we set out.”

  S
till, Pa said nothing.

  Her mouth grew dry, and she held him tighter. It wasn’t like him to stay upset with her. Her full belly threatened to empty itself. She struggled to breathe. Was she such a disappointment?

  At last, he whispered, “She loved you so much.” He stroked her hair with one hand, still hugging her close with his other arm. He smelled of the lemon and spice fragrance he’d donned after his bath. When was the last time he’d worn cologne?

  Not since Mama.

  She slumped against him. No wonder he was so upset. All this fancy stuff…Mama had enjoyed it, too—though they never had as much as the Davidsons. Eli had almost forgotten how Mama always smelled of roses—even on the trail west. Being in this house must be reminding him of his promise to build Mama her own fancy home in Oregon. Of how they’d lost her before he could keep his promise. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, Pa. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. Ain’t none of this ever been your fault.” He pulled back to wipe tears from his face. “It’s mine.”

  He’d said this hundreds of times, but it wasn’t true. She squeezed him again. “I love you, Pa.”

  “Love you, too, Angel.” His voice broke, and silent sobs shook his shoulders.

  Being around Uncle Henry must be bringing back strong memories. He hadn’t cried this hard in years. Why hadn’t Pa and Uncle Henry kept in better touch?

  After a few minutes, she pried his arms loose and stood. “All right.” Taking him by the shoulders, she eased him down onto his bed. “You go on to sleep now.”

  He nodded as the tears continued to fall.

  She snagged the blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over him.

  He caught her hand. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  She tipped her lips up and gave his hand a squeeze. “All right, Pa. Good night.” She walked out, shutting the door behind her.

  Her mouth moved but her lips wouldn’t open. She couldn’t scream.

  Eli bolted upright in bed, her breath coming in short spurts. Familiar pain sliced through her, her foolishness replaying in her mind. No! It’s over. Stop thinking about it! When would the nightmares end? Shoulders tight, her fingers gripped smooth linens. Linens?

  Her eyes popped open.

  Heavy drapery pulled tight over a window cloaked the room in darkness. The flicker of a candle set on the mantle gave the only light. She widened her eyes to search the dim room, took in the fancy wallpaper and elegant furnishings...

  This wasn’t their cabin in Oregon. Where was she? How had she gotten here?

  She tilted her head to one side and then the other. Aches and pains, her steady companions for months, were dulled by a good night’s rest in a soft bed. She rubbed her belly. Full.

  Like the growing spark of a wood fire, the memories came to her. She was in her uncle’s house in San Francisco.

  A groan escaped her.

  She scrambled from the bed. Was it morning yet? She peeked through the curtains. Bright dawn sunshine spilled over the muddy streets below, causing her to squint. Good. One more meal and they’d be gone.

  Spotting her men’s clothes folded in a neat pile on a small table, Eli dressed and gathered her few belongings. She paused before the mirror. Her men’s clothes were clean now, thanks to one of the maids, but still so raggedy and stained it was difficult to tell the difference—aside from the lack of smell. What would it be like to wear something as fine as the fancied-up, blue plaid dress Cecilia wore to supper?

  She snorted and spun away. The simple brown dress had been bad enough, tickling her legs all through dinner. Thank heavens she’d refused the corset and petticoats. Even the nightdress Cecilia loaned her had bunched around her knees until she sprang from the bed and changed back into her long underwear. Silly frills.

  Maybe the clothes were what made these women so unpleasant. Thank you, Lord, that I don’t have to worry about such nonsense. She snapped her carpetbag shut, tightened the rope on her trousers, then combed her fingers through her hair.

  Knock. Knock.

  Must be Pa come to fetch me for breakfast. She snatched her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and strode across the room. She pulled open the door with a grin. “All ready to go, P—”

  Her grin fell to a scowl.

  A frowning maid stood before her.

  “Oh.” Eli frowned back at the woman. “What? Am I late for breakfast? Where’s Pa?” Eli craned her neck to see past the maid down the hall. Empty.

  The door to Pa’s room stood open.

  The maid wouldn’t meet Eli’s questioning look. Instead, the woman’s gaze skittered about the room behind Eli. “Mr. Davidson asked me to fetch you. He wishes to speak with you before the meal is served.”

  Eli blinked. “What for?”

  Finally, their gazes met. The maid’s eyes were watery. Why was she so upset?

  Shoving past the maid, Eli rushed down the hall. “Pa!” She glanced into his room. He wasn’t there. She stormed downstairs to the dining room. “Pa!”

  Uncle Henry sat alone at the dining table sipping his coffee. He saw Eli and set his cup in its saucer. Why did he look so sad?

  She whirled from the room, brushing past Cecilia. Uncle Henry called after her, but she raced back upstairs to Pa’s room. The bed was made. No fire. She shoved her fingers into the ashes. Cold. She scanned the room. Not an item was out of place. She yanked open the wardrobe.

  Empty.

  Running into the hallway, she collided with Uncle Henry. He grasped her shoulders. She twisted away, sprinting down the hall.

  “Pa!” She darted from door to door, flinging them open. Pa wasn’t in any of the chambers. He wasn’t in the parlor. He wasn’t in the kitchen. She burst out the back door and crossed the yard to the stables. He wasn’t with the horses.

  “Pa!” Her throat clogged and she fought tears as she sank to the ground. What had he said last night? “I’m sorry…Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  Shivers snaked through her body. He’d been saying good-bye.

  Oh, Pa! How could you?

  Uncle Henry strode toward her. She stood, and he took hold of her shoulders. “Listen to me. Look at me.”

  She closed her eyes. Where would Pa have gone? Back to the claim? No. She’d seen him sign over his rights. To town then, to find work for the winter. But where?

  Uncle Henry locked his arms around her and dragged her toward the house.

  “No!” She wrestled to break free, but he proved stronger than he appeared. “I have to find Pa.” He’d forget to eat, to bathe. He needed her.

  Uncle Henry turned her to face him. “Jim is gone. He left last night. He’s been gone for hours.”

  She froze. Her gaze snapped to his. “Last night?” She couldn’t breathe.

  “Yes.”

  A strangled cry ripped from her throat, and she felt herself falling. There were shouts, then hands. She was lifted. Her eyes closed as a moan escaped her soul.

  Pa was gone.

  And she’d never find him.

  Chapter 2

  January 1854

  San Francisco, CA

  Daniel thanked the postman and stepped away from the window. Tapping the single envelope against his palm, he strode past the long line of men who, like him, had been waiting hours for news from home. He scanned their weary faces. Perhaps they’d find more success than he. Not that he wasn’t grateful for Mother’s letter. Of course he was. But why had Alice still not written?

  His employer’s carriage drew to a stop across the yard. What were the Davidsons doing here? Didn’t the rich families on their street have their mail delivered? A young woman vaulted from the carriage’s confines, nearly bowling over the manservant opening the door.

  Miss Brooks.

  Daniel’s gaze followed her striking figure as she wove her way toward the ladies’ line. Whose letter was she so eager to receive that she could not await its delivery? A distant suitor, perhaps? He knew not
hing about his employer’s niece other than the fact that her beautiful brown curls distracted him from church service far too often. She always sat in the pew three rows in front of him, beside her aunt and uncle.

  He tried to recall Alice’s sweet face framed in pale blonde hair, but all he could summon was a blurry image.

  He’d made the right decision yesterday.

  He prayed that Mr. Davidson would understand.

  Of course, he had the evening to get through first. Lord, guide my words.

  Eliza dashed past several groups of men discussing the latest news from the newly arrived, two-month-old papers. Three of the men were engaged in a heated debate, waving their papers in the air. She dodged an arm, just missing being struck.

  A gentleman stood at the end of the long line leading from the ladies’ window. She cleared her throat. The man peered over his shoulder. “Oh, excuse me, miss.” He tipped his hat. “Please”—he stepped to the side and gestured for her to go before him—“ladies first.”

  She nodded her thanks. This was one of the few circumstances in which she found benefit to the nonsensical rules of social conduct that Cecilia promoted so ardently. Stepping forward, Eliza leaned to the side and craned her neck to count the number of women ahead of her. Twenty-three. With a harrumph, she settled back into place and waited for the line to begin moving.

  A moment later, Uncle Henry joined her. He gave her elbow a squeeze. “I could ask for you, you know.”

  She shook her head but let a smile soften her refusal.

  He had made the same offer every two weeks since she insisted on coming to the post office three months ago. She’d had enough of waiting for Pa’s letters to arrive at the house.

  Cecilia repeatedly told her that men were too busy to write letters to their children. “It was an anomaly that he wrote to you at all.”

  Cecilia was wrong. Pa loved Eliza and wouldn’t stop writing to her without reason.

  With each arrival of the mail steamer, she expected a bundle of letters and an apology from the postmaster explaining how they’d been set off at the wrong port or some such mix-up. Perhaps today would be the day they admitted their error.