Waltz in the Wilderness

by Kathleen Denly

  He winced the moment the words left his mouth. Had he truly just suggested she needed his permission? What was it about her that had him speaking first and thinking second?

  August 1853 (5 months before)

  Roxbury, Massachusetts

  The slamming of the front door rattled the walls, waking Alice from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes but could tell no difference with the curtains drawn, blocking even the starlight from their chamber.

  Her younger sister, Caroline, rolled in the bed beside her. “What’s that?”

  Alice sat up, listening.

  Father’s clumsy movements downstairs and the timber of his rumbling voice disturbed the silence of their home.

  She frowned. “Father’s home.” Lying back down, she closed her eyes, ready for sleep to reclaim her.

  Sharp, unfamiliar feminine laughter sent a chill down her spine. Not again.

  Whipping back the blanket, Alice stood and yanked her dressing gown from the wall.

  “Oh, don’t, Alice.” Caroline’s whine was muffled by her pillow. “You’ll make it worse.”

  Alice trailed her fingers along the wood bed frame as she crossed the pitch-black room. She found the smooth doorknob and flung the door wide. She strode down the lightless hall to the top of the stairs.

  In the entryway below, flickering sconces illuminated a scantily clad woman clinging to Father like a leech.

  Get out! Alice bit her tongue to keep the shout from escaping. She listened for any sign that the servants had been disturbed. The hallway was quiet. For now.

  Lifting her chin, she crept down the stairs.

  Father tilted to one side.

  “There you go again, luv.” Another cackle echoed off the painted wood floors. “I told you we ought t’have stayed at Moira’s. I’ll not be able to lift you if you fall here.”

  “Nonsense.” Father’s slurred words were blessedly low in volume. “Wasn’t any brandy. I’ve best bottle here.” He stumbled toward his study.

  Alice stepped in front of them, focusing her fury on the stranger threatening their home. She kept her voice low, but firm. “Vacate this house at once.”

  “Why, you—”

  The rest of the woman’s response was cut short by the slap of Father’s hand across Alice’s face. Alice stumbled backward, gasping.

  He’d struck her! Father had struck her.

  Again.

  Her back met the wall. She slid to the floor, legs too shaky to hold her upright.

  “Hey!” Heavy steps pounded down the stairs. Richard flew forward, his punch knocking Father against the wall.

  The stranger screamed.

  Father swung at Richard.

  Richard ducked and landed another blow to Father’s face.

  Father landed a jab in Richard’s gut.

  Their fists continued swinging—landing and missing in turns.

  “No! Father, don’t! Richard, stop!” Tears streamed down Alice’s face. What was happening? Father hadn’t struck any of them in months. This was her fault. She ought to have listened to Caroline, pretended she couldn’t hear them.

  “Abner!” Mother dashed down the stairs. “Richard, what are you doing? Stop!”

  Alice turned in time to see Richard land a hard blow to Father’s temple.

  Father slumped to the ground.

  Mother screamed. “He’s dead! You’ve killed him!” She rushed past Alice, but Richard blocked her from reaching Father.

  “He’s not dead, Mother. Only unconscious.” Richard panted as he pointed to their Father’s chest. “See. He breathes.”

  Mother ducked beneath Richard’s outstretched arm. Kneeling beside Father, she shook him. “Abner! Abner, wake up.” She glowered over her shoulder at Richard. “How could you?” Her attention switched to their butler, who’d appeared at the base of the stairs. “Fetch the doctor, Morris.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Caroline joined them, passing the butler as he left. “What happ— Oh! Richard, your face!” Her gaze shifted to the floor. “What’s happened to Father?”

  The rest of their staff now hovered near the top of the stairs in various states of dress. Their candles flickered light across the upper hall. How long had they been standing there? Two of the maids exchanged whispers, their worried eyes fixed on Alice.

  Alice lifted her hand to her stinging cheek. Was there a mark?

  “Alice, you’re hurt.” Caroline’s voice drew Mother’s attention.

  Mother’s hand fluttered at her throat. “What happened to you?”

  “Father struck her.” Richard knelt in front of Alice. He held her chin with his fingertips. “Are you all right?”

  “He struck you?” Mother leaned away. “He wouldn’t. He promised—”

  “See for yourself.” Richard lifted Alice’s chin to give their mother a clear view of her cheek.

  Mother closed her eyes. “I—”

  Father’s moan cut off whatever Mother intended to say.

  Mother smoothed her husband’s hair. “Abner, dearest, wake up. Speak to me.”

  “Lucy.”

  Mother jerked back.

  The strange woman dropped to her knees beside Father, taking the hand Mother had dropped. “I’m here.”

  Alice jumped to her feet. She couldn’t watch this. Fleeing up the stairs to her chamber, she grabbed the door to fling it shut.

  A large hand stopped it mid-swing.

  Richard entered, with Caroline on his heels. He strode to the wardrobe and jerked open the doors. He grabbed two bags from its base and tossed them onto the bed. “Pack your things, we’re leaving.”

  Caroline pulled unmentionables from their cupboard and folded them into one of the bags.

  Alice stared at her brother. “Where will we go?” Neither Spencer nor William, their two eldest brothers, owned homes of their own. And no other relative would take them in against Father’s wishes.

  Richard pulled dresses from the wardrobe and began cramming them into the other bag. “Mason Jefferson would marry Caroline this instant if it were possible. He’s only postponed their wedding because Father insisted that he first finish his apprenticeship. We’ll go to the Jeffersons’ home tonight and convince Mason to marry Caroline first thing in the morning.”

  Alice rescued her garments from her brother’s mangling. “That will cause a scandal. People will say Caroline is with child.”

  “I don’t care.” Caroline tossed a brush into her bag. “And Mason won’t care either. I’ve hated waiting this long. Besides, the rumors will die when I don’t have a babe in arms nine months from now.”

  What foolishness! “If you marry tomorrow, that is still a possibility. Hasn’t Mother explained things to you?”

  Caroline’s fists crushed the stockings she was adding to her bag. “I am not a child, Alice.”

  “Fine.” Alice turned back to Richard. “What about you and me?” She folded the dresses he’d crumpled and stacked them on the rumpled bed sheets. “These will not all fit. We’ll need our trunks.”

  Richard sliced his hand through the air. “There’s no time to fetch the trunks from the attic. Pack what you need for tonight. I’ll return for the rest later. I want to be gone before Father recovers enough to come after us.”

  Alice considered her dresses. She couldn’t choose one unless she knew where she and Richard were going and who might see them. “Return from where? You still haven’t said where we’re going.”

  “I have a friend who owes me a favor.” Richard selected two dresses for her and added them to the bag. He tossed petticoats, a corset, drawers, and stockings atop the dress. “What else do you require?”

  A whiff of oranges tickled her nose, the sachet of dried rinds having spilled across the bed. “What friend?”

  “No one you know. I met him while I was away.”

  “What makes you think a gentleman of such short acquaintance would take us in?” She lifted her chin. “I’ll not be a charity case, Richard.”

 
“He may not meet your definition of a gentleman, but he’s fine enough and, as I said, he owes me a favor.”

  “What do you mean? What are the arrangements of his house? His circumstances? Surely he has family. Even you would not expect me to reside with one of the lower class. It would ruin my reputation.”

  His grin faded. “The man is happily married and treats his family well. I’m certain you’ll be safe there. As to the quality of his home, I’ve not seen it, but we have little choice. You cannot stay here.” He pinned her with his gaze. “I expect you to be kind and respectful.”

  She turned away. Richard didn’t know this was not the first time Father had struck her—though each time still shocked her. She patted her tender cheek. The pain had already dulled. Once the alcohol left him, Father would repent of his actions and she’d be safe once more. A few days ensconced at home and the marks would fade, with no one the wiser.

  But fleeing into the night to beg charity of a stranger? That was an overreaction destined to cause wagging tongues. In any case, she could never pack all that she would need in the few minutes Richard meant to give her. A trip such as this would require careful planning and preparation. “I could stay here. I—”

  “Richard!” Father’s infuriated voice accompanied heavy steps clomping up the stairs. “Alice!”

  Mother’s voice sounded near the top of the stairs. “Abner, wait. You’ve been injured and need to rest. Wouldn’t it be better to wait and speak with them in the morning when you’ll feel better and can think more clearly?”

  “M’ thoughts are perf’ly clear. Get out m’way.”

  A scream. Then a series of receding thumps.

  Richard spun toward the hall. “Keep packing. I’ll check on Mother and keep Father away.”

  Alice trembled. This isn’t happening.

  Chapter 20

  January 1854 (Present Day)

  San Diego, CA

  Eliza mentally shut out Mr. Clarke as he dogged her steps, trying to convince her not to enter the store. She may be grateful for his protective presence, but she was not about to allow him to take control. He had deceived her once already. Yes, he had repented of that act, and Eliza had chosen to let go of her anger—after all, she certainly understood making a wrong choice with the right intentions—but she was no fool.

  She would not provide him with another such opportunity to deceive her.

  Entering the store with Mr. Clarke on her heels, she smiled at a clerk assisting another customer. She perused the shelves as she waited.

  When the customer left, the clerk turned to Eliza. “Good morning, Miss Brooks. How lovely to see you again.” His attention moved past her to Mr. Clarke. “Is this the gentleman you spoke of? Oh my, but I see why you’ve come. Those trousers will be far too short on a man of his stature. I’ll be happy to exchange them for you, of course.”

  Mr. Clarke gave an odd cough behind her. It sounded suspiciously like a strangled laugh.

  “Oh, no. This is not that gentleman, sir.”

  “No?” The clerk’s brows raised in question.

  She gestured toward Mr. Clarke, who stepped forward to stand beside her. “This is Mr. Clarke. He told me he’s planning an overland trip, but is lacking certain supplies. Of course, I told him yours was the shop he must come to.”

  The clerk beamed. “How may I be of assistance, sir?”

  When they had gathered everything they needed—with Eliza providing a “suggestion” here and there to Mr. Clarke—the clerk stepped behind the counter to tally their purchases.

  Mr. Clarke’s hand moved toward his pocket.

  Oh, no, you don’t! She reached into her own and withdrew a handful of money that felt to be about the amount she needed. When the clerk announced the total, she snatched Mr. Clarke’s wrist below the surface of the counter, preventing him from withdrawing his money.

  “Tell me”—she batted her lashes at the clerk—“how much is that coffee pot on the wall behind you?” The clerk turned to retrieve the item in question and Eliza plopped her money on the counter.

  She released Mr. Clarke’s arm.

  He scowled.

  The clerk turned back to them, coffee pot in hand. “It’s…” He blinked at Mr. Clarke. “Is something amiss?”

  Eliza beamed at the clerk. “On second thought, I’m not sure Mr. Clarke wants a coffee pot.”

  Daniel gritted his teeth as they made arrangements to return later for their purchases. He held the door for Eliza to exit the store. She had outmaneuvered him. He would have had to make a scene in front of the clerk to stop her from paying—a scene they could not afford.

  They needed to be as forgettable as possible.

  Following her into the plaza, he stalked to a place far enough from the few others wandering about that they would not be overheard.

  He pivoted to face her.

  She grinned at him.

  He couldn’t help it. His frustration dissolved.

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

  “Quite.” She bounced on her toes.

  He widened his stance. “Well, I need you to let me handle things this time.”

  Her smile disappeared.

  He chuckled. “I need to negotiate the purchase of horses. Have you ever purchased a horse, Miss Brooks?”

  “No.” She heaved a sigh. “All right, but I’m coming along and you must promise to allow me to reimburse you afterward.”

  He grinned. “Of course.”

  She hadn’t stipulated how soon afterward.

  By noon they had completed their purchase of the horses, and Eliza returned to the store while Mr. Clarke went to meet Farley outside the grog shop. They’d had an argument about whether she would accompany him to retrieve the map, but in the end she had conceded her presence would draw more questions from Farley, who wasn’t the tight-lipped sort.

  In the store, she posted another letter to her uncle and purchased some bread and preserves to add to the jerky, beans, and other provisions they’d purchased earlier.

  She met Mr. Clarke near the edge of town where he stood waiting with their new horses. Her mare dipped her head and Eliza scratched her muzzle. “Did you get the map?”

  “Right here.” He patted his pocket.

  “Good.”

  He assisted her into the saddle before mounting his gelding, and they started down the road, following it toward the Playa until they were certain no one was paying them any attention. Then they veered north toward the river and followed its sandy banks eastward.

  “I think it worked.” He steered his horse around a large bush and then back to walk beside her. “No one seemed to pay any undue attention to our departure.”

  “Good.” She held out her hand. “May I see the map?”

  “Certainly.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and set it in her palm. As she unfolded it, he said, “It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got, so I’m hoping it’s enough to get us where we need to go. Farley claimed it’d make more sense as we went along.”

  Their map was little more than a long squiggly line, labeled rivr, with a couple of branches coming off it. There were three rectangles that must represent buildings of some kind, and some open-ended triangles near the end of the river that probably indicated the mountains. Almost at the end of the squiggly line, amid the open-ended triangles, was an X.

  She held the paper up so Mr. Clarke could see it and pointed to the X. “Is this where we’re going?”

  Mr. Clarke nodded. “Farley said that’s where your father said his friend was supposed to be hunting.” He squinted at her. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this? It’s been several months since your father said he was going up there. Even if the map is accurate, there’s no reason to believe he hasn’t moved on.”

  She refolded the map but didn’t hand it back to him. “I am determined, Mr. Clarke. However, if you have changed your mind…” She held her breath.

  �
�No.”

  She exhaled.

  He held his hand out for the map and she returned it. “I had to ask.”

  They rode in silence for a while. The hills surrounding them, and the valley through which they rode, appeared dry and consisted of chaparral browns and dull greens. The area beside the river, though, was lush with a variety of bright green plants and trees. It looked much like Oregon.

  She pictured the small log cabin in Oregon, which the neighbors helped Pa build while she fetched water and cooked meals. In the winter, she rode through the snow to her neighbor’s house for lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic. All at Pa’s insistence. The rest of the year, she and Pa were inseparable. They worked together, growing crops and raising animals. In the yard near the front door, she planted the cuttings Mama had carted all the way from Ohio. Eliza nursed those cuttings back to life till they grew full with the beautiful white-and-pink striped blooms Mama had so cherished.

  Oh, to return to the only place that had ever felt like home!

  Home.

  Mr. Clarke was delaying his return home to accompany her into the mountains. She considered him as they rode. “What is your home like?”

  “In Roxbury?”

  “Yes.”

  “My parents live on a small farm. Well, I call it a farm, but it was my great-grandfather who worked the land. Now, my father’s father, he built the workshop and was working as a carpenter when he met my grandmother. He taught my father, and as soon as we could hold a hammer, my father started training my brother and me. There was never any question what occupation I was to take. My father’s talents are well known in Boston. He always has more work than he can handle. He’s been asking me to come home for years.” He shifted in the saddle. “He expects my return home will mean my return to the family business.”

  Eliza guided her horse around a tall bush. Mr. Clarke would be on his way home now if it weren’t for her.

  “In any case, there’s the main house with four chambers. The woodshop, of course. We have a barn and a few other small buildings as well. And, like I told you before, my brother is almost finished building his own house on the property. So there’s plenty of room for…guests.” He cleared his throat. “Both my parents’ folks live nearby, as well as a few uncles and aunts. They all come over for the holidays.” He shrugged. “Christmas hasn’t been the same since I came to California, that’s for sure.”