Waltz in the Wilderness

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Waltz in the Wilderness Page 23

by Kathleen Denly


  Andrew paused in his story when they entered.

  Daniel looked at Eliza and gestured toward Maria. “What are you doing?”

  Eliza’s steps faltered. “Maria is teaching me to prepare acorns.”

  “That’s wonderful.” He smiled.

  Something fluttered inside her and she spun away. He’s leaving, Eliza.

  She hurried to where Maria set the basket on the floor beside the fire. From a nearby shelf, Maria fetched two mortar bowls with pestles sitting inside. She handed one to Eliza, then gestured for Eliza to join her on the floor. Once they were seated, Maria scooped a handful of nuts and poured them into each bowl. They set to work.

  Soon the last of Maria’s acorns were ground into meal and she set her bowl aside. “Gracias. Thank you.” She reached for Eliza’s bowl, which still held several larger pieces.

  Eliza chuckled as she handed over her mortar and pestle. She had tried. “Thank you.” Eliza stood to stretch her legs. She’d have to practice grinding acorns when their meal didn’t depend on her speed.

  She caught Daniel watching her. The look of admiration in his eyes took her breath. She turned away.

  It didn’t take long for Maria to finish grinding the acorns Eliza had started. Maria poured the meal into a tightly woven basket and carried it outside.

  Following Maria down the hill, Eliza scanned their surroundings. Perhaps Pa would return today. If he did, would Daniel leave right away or wait and leave in the morning? She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, bringing her mind back to the present.

  Maria stopped by a creek at a point where the water rushed from one short drop to another. She tied one end of a small rope to the basket and secured the other end around a nearby branch before dropping the basket into the stream.

  She faced Eliza. “We go. Come back, two nights.”

  “But I thought this was for our dinner.”

  Maria chortled. “Come.”

  They walked upstream a few feet to where it was easier to cross and then walked downstream until they were opposite the spot where they’d tied the basket of acorn meal. Maria reached into a clump of weeds and withdrew another rope.

  Another basket? It was impossible to tell. One end of the rope was tied to a bush beside Maria and the other disappeared into the rushing water.

  Maria began pulling and a moment later, a basket emerged from the water. She untied it and removed the lid.

  Inside was a clump of mush.

  “Acorn?”

  “Sí.”

  Back in the Coopers’ yard, Maria poured some of the acorn mush into a basket along with a little water. She set the basket on a rock that was surely extremely hot, as it had been sitting over the fire since earlier that morning. A short time later, the mush was cooked through, and Maria poured it into five bowls.

  Daniel patted the seat Eliza had sat in the day before. “Have a seat and we’ll pray.”

  “No, thank you.” Eliza lifted two of the warm bowls. “I’m going to eat with Ysabel. I’ll pray with her.” Her step faltered as she strode toward the door. She hadn’t thanked Maria for teaching her about the acorns.

  Eliza’s gaze flicked toward Daniel of its own volition.

  His shoulders were hunched, head drooping.

  She hastened her steps.

  She would thank Maria this evening.

  Two days later, Eliza paused her stitch in the hem she was mending. “I’m sorry, Maria. What did you say?” She’d been so focused on the stroke of Daniel’s wet stone across his knife, she’d pricked herself three times with the needle and had missed Maria’s question.

  “You go get basket. Yes?”

  “One of the baskets with the acorn flour in the creek?”

  Maria nodded.

  Eliza set aside her sewing. “Of course.”

  Daniel rose from where he’d been sitting beside the fire, sharpening a knife. “I’ll come with you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can manage on my own.” She hurried outside, but he followed her.

  “Eliza.” He caught her shoulder. “I thought we established that you don’t have to do everything on your own.” His teasing expression set off the fluttering inside her.

  Stop it! Pain sliced her chest. She shouldn’t feel this way. He wasn’t hers. Could never be hers. She turned her face from him. “I’m all right. I want to do this alone.”

  His hold wasn’t tight, but it held firm against her tugging. He rotated her to face him. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.” The ache in his voice brought her eyes up and the pleading in his gaze nearly undid her resolve. “Or at least, let me come with you. I’ll be leaving soon, and—”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” The words burst from her lips before she could stop them. She wrenched her shoulder free and spun away. “Just lea”—her voice cracked—“leave me alone, Daniel.” Tears blurring her vision, she raced up the hill.

  She’d used his Christian name. Daniel took a step to follow her, then stopped—the agonized expression on her face before she’d run from him halting him in his tracks.

  He had known for a while now that she, too, fought the attraction between them. They had come too close to kissing to deny there was something there. Still, what he’d seen in her eyes just now was more than attraction. It confirmed what he’d suspected since the day after the flood—she cared deeply for him.

  His heart wanted to soar, but he reined it in. He had promised his heart and his future to Alice. He had no right to feel joy at the thought that Eliza might love him—especially when it was clear that his presence, while knowing he intended to leave, was hurting her.

  Alice held a gloved hand over her nose as the gangplank was lowered. San Francisco at last! Though her heart and mind rejoiced, her stomach rebelled. The stench of the filthy wharf was nearly as bad as the stench in steerage.

  She ran her free hand over her curls, checking that they were in order as she and Richard waited for the upper-class passengers to disembark first.

  Richard stood beside her, two of their bags in hand. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

  She surveyed the rambling city before them. What did her brother see that so impressed him? A haphazard assemblage of ramshackle structures, middle-class storefronts, and a handful of mansions met her gaze. Set in neat, crisscrossing rows, the streets appeared muddy, even from this distance. The hem of her skirt would be ruined if they did not hire a carriage to carry them to Daniel’s place of residence.

  Draymen scurried about the docks collecting passengers from the boats. Perhaps they could hire one of them.

  Spending any of our precious-little funds on transportation when we are perfectly capable of walking may not be the wisest of choices.

  Nonsense. Consider the cost of repairing a ruined hem.

  As if to make her point, a wagon raced past, splattering a man below with mud to the waist.

  You see? She lifted her chin. I will convince Richard to hire a drayman. She couldn’t afford to replace an entire dress and she certainly wouldn’t walk about in a stained one.

  At last, it was their turn to disembark and she followed her brother to the top of the gangplank. Her legs wobbled as she stepped down the boards. Her grip on the left railing tightened. If only her other hand were not required to carry her carpetbag so that she might clasp both rope railings. By the time she’d reached the dock, her left palm burned.

  She paused to check her glove. It had worn clean through in one spot.

  Richard bumped into her as an eager passenger shoved passed him. “Will you move?” Richard’s exasperated tone caught the attention of a passing drayman.

  The filthy man faced them as sweat dripped into his smile. “Need a lift?”

  She opened her mouth to negotiate a fee, but her brother waved the man away.

  “No, thank you. We’ll walk.”

  The man hesitated, his attention shifting to Alice.

  She affected her best pout. “My legs are all wobbly, Richard.”
>
  “All the more reason to walk. We need to reacquaint ourselves with a surface that doesn’t dip and sway, but remains firm beneath our feet.” He stomped one foot for emphasis and a loose board shifted beneath him. He teetered precariously near the edge of the planks.

  She resisted the urge to shove him into the water.

  Once he’d righted himself, he tugged down his vest, adjusted his cravat, and lifted his chin. “Come.” He marched off down the dock without so much as glancing back to see whether she followed.

  She should have shoved him.

  Better yet, she ought to hire the drayman just to see the expression on Richard’s face as she passed him.

  She pivoted toward the drayman.

  He was already speaking with another man disembarking behind her.

  She huffed and hurried after her brother.

  Despite Alice’s pleas, Richard refused to hire a carriage. He would have also denied her a place to freshen up if she hadn’t refused to budge until he agreed to find her a bathing saloon. She would not show up on Daniel’s doorstep filthy and reeking of bilge water.

  Several wrong turns and hours later, she picked her way down another muddy street, careful to avoid the worst of the puddles. Despite the cool weather, sweat trickled down her back, soaking her chemise and causing her to shiver with each gust of wind off the bay. So much for feeling clean. At least the stench of steerage was banished from her body.

  The time her bath had taken and their slow progress through the bustling city meant the sun hung low in the sky by the time they neared the address Daniel had given them. Her steps slowed. It had taken months to get here, but now that they were, she wasn’t ready. What would she say to Daniel? She’d sworn her silence, but could she keep it? Was it right to keep secrets from one’s husband? It wasn’t as if Daniel were anything like Father, but—

  She faltered before the squat little building as Richard stepped up to its gloomy, unpainted door. “Wait.”

  Richard froze, his hand poised to knock. “What?”

  “Are you certain this is it?” She checked Daniel’s letter, then appraised the structure before her. Although it appeared to be in better shape than the rest of the buildings on this block, its plain, unfinished walls were washed gray by the sun and were topped with dull, gray shingles. Not one bit of trim adorned its eaves or windows. There was nothing to indicate that a skilled craftsmen lived here.

  In her mind, she saw the beautiful two-story home Daniel’s brother, Benjamin, was building on his family’s land. There was a wide porch along the front, with turned spindles in the railing, and Benjamin had been adding eave brackets and decorative window trim when she left. It would be finished by now—painted and papered for whomever he chose as his wife. Her hands fisted. How could Benjamin have done this to her?

  Richard’s voice brought her back to the present. “Only one way to find out.” He knocked.

  Several minutes passed with no response.

  Richard knocked louder.

  The thud of boots stomping across floorboards reached them through the walls. A moment later, the door flung open to reveal a slovenly attired man with a paunch that hung over his trousers and a balding patch of brown hair. He glared at Richard. “What do you want?”

  “Where is Daniel?” She hadn’t intended to voice the question, but both men turned to her, so she must have.

  “Well, now. Who are you?” The man’s leer made her shudder.

  Richard moved to block the man’s view. “We’re looking for Daniel Clarke. We were told he lived here.”

  “Clarke moved on. He ain’t here no more.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Daniel must be here. He’d lived at this address for more than two years. Where would he have gone?

  Richard craned his neck, seeming to peer over the man’s shoulder. “Do you happen to know where he’s gone?”

  “’Fraid not. Sorry.” The man shut the door in Richard’s face.

  Stepping back, Alice scanned up and down the street again. There were at least two dozen other buildings on this block alone—more than half of which appeared to be housing of some kind, and they had passed dozens of streets before reaching this one. There were so many places Daniel might be. She wrung her hands. “What are we to do now?”

  “Do you know where he works?”

  She shook her head. “He’s always moving from one project to the next. Wherever Mr. Davidson has need of him.”

  “What about Mr. Davidson? He must have an office of some kind? Do you know its location?”

  “I don’t remember Daniel mentioning an office, but…” Her gaze drifted to the dismal gray sky. What had Daniel written about Mr. Davidson? “He owns a shop, I believe. Near the wharf.”

  He took her elbow. “Then we’d best walk quickly. It’ll be dark soon and I want you settled.” He glanced at her. “I know you hoped to marry today, but with the hour so late, I doubt we’ll be able to find a clergyman once we find Daniel.”

  “But if we’re not married, I can’t stay in his house.” What if the boarding house rates were still as high as Daniel had written? Were there any decent enough for a lady to set foot in? She’d read horrid stories in the papers of men being bitten to death by fleas and robbed in their sleep. She stared down the mud marring her pale blue dress. Why had she wasted her money on a bathing saloon?

  Did she have enough left to rent a decent room for the night?

  Chapter 33

  Eliza slouched in the small chair, shredding a discarded piece of reed.

  Across the cabin, Ysabel’s chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber. Her stepmother was gaining in strength with each passing day. Despite Eliza’s fears that first morning, Ysabel’s body had rejected her meals only twice in the past three days—a vast improvement from how Andrew had described the previous months. Ysabel still napped each morning and afternoon, but in between she was able to assist Maria with meal preparations, making Eliza’s fumbling efforts less necessary. Still, Eliza had promised Maria her help.

  Eliza eyeballed the door. Should she leave?

  All morning, she’d kept busy boiling water and washing their laundry that now hung drying on the line. At noon, Maria brought them dinner and admired Ysabel’s basketry, then went back to her own cabin. After Maria left, Eliza had checked the laundry, fetched fresh water, and helped Ysabel retrieve more reeds from the bundle outside.

  Now her stepmother slept.

  There was nothing to keep Eliza from seeking out Maria and offering her assistance.

  Eliza didn’t budge.

  Helping Maria meant facing Daniel, and there could be no doubt he’d discerned her feelings for him. Facing him would be humiliating. Not that he would be unkind. Daniel was too noble to take pride in her broken heart. Instead, he would pity her, avoid her gaze, and guard his every word and action, fearful of encouraging her inappropriate feelings for him. She couldn’t bear that.

  Yet Daniel would be leaving as soon as Pa returned and she’d never see him again. As painful as it may be, should she give up the little time she had left with him? He may not love her, but he had proven himself a true friend. Was it wrong to want to keep that friendship for as long as she could?

  She imagined herself in Alice’s place. Would I want my fiancé spending time with a woman who coveted him for herself?

  Eliza’s head dropped. I’m coveting Daniel’s heart.

  Though she hadn’t memorized any particular Scripture verses on the matter, she’d heard enough sermons to know that coveting something was a sin. Please, God, help me let Daniel go. Help me stop loving him this way. Help me desire his friendship and nothing more. I cannot do it on my own.

  An odd scratching sound penetrated the walls of the cabin. She tilted her head, listening. Boots crunched across the dirt outside. She rose and cracked open the door.

  Daniel stood in the trees past the clearing, taking her laundry from the line, one item at a time. He folded each piece and set it in the basket at his feet. The basket
scratched across the ground as he nudged it along. When he reached her unmentionables, he hesitated. His face grew red. He turned his back to the garments and surveyed the yard, his gaze halting on hers. She resisted the urge to close the door.

  Then his shoulders sagged and his lips turned down.

  She spun away before his sorrow could become pity.

  She checked that Ysabel was still sleeping, then slipped outside and shut the door. She traced the outline of a boot print in the dirt with the tip of her shoe. What would she say to him?

  He walked toward her.

  She hurried away from the house. They mustn’t wake Ysabel. She met him at the edge of the clearing.

  He stopped one step away and glanced back at the laundry. “I thought I’d lend a hand, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I understand. Thank you. It was a kind thought.” Stepping around him, she yanked her unmentionables from the line and dropped them into the basket. She tugged a blanket from the bottom of the pile and set it on top. Lifting the basket, she straightened and settled it on one hip. She paid inordinate attention to where she placed each footstep as she passed him.

  “Eliza.”

  She paused, taking a long, steadying breath.

  He was silent for so long.

  Her muscles tensed, preparing to face him.

  Then he spoke in a voice so quiet she nearly missed it. “I’m sorry.”

  Covering her mouth, she sprinted into the cabin.

  Twilight blanketed the city in shadow by the time Alice and Richard found the address that Mr. Davidson’s shop clerk had given them. Alice inspected her dress and smiled. She’d managed to keep it free of mud on their trek uphill.

  The narrow, four-story home before them was topped with elaborate roof cresting and adorned with fish-scale shingles. Gingerbread scrollwork hung from its eaves, and an intricately carved balustrade enclosed its second-story balcony. A stained-glass transom above the front door drew the eye. In short, it was a house that commanded attention and respect.

 

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