“I’m not completely helpless, Nicholas. I have a weapon, and I know how to use it,” Mara told him coldly. “Paddy’s like my own son. I’ll do anything to get him back.”
“I believe you would, Mara,” Nicholas spoke softly, beginning to sense for the first time some of the determination and strength in this enigmatic woman.
“I wish you’d told me about your trouble, Mara,” the Swede said unhappily. “I would’ve helped you. You didn’t need to run away.”
“I didn’t want to get you involved in this. You might have gotten hurt. And anyway,” Mara said with a tired sigh, “I thought we’d be gone from here before anything more could happen.”
“Do you know what warehouse we’re looking for?” Nicholas interrupted as he halted the coach.
“The only thing I know is that they talked about nails, nothing more than that,” Mara told him with a frown.
“Well, it’ll have to do,” Nicholas commented. “You’d better wait here with the coach. In fact, he’d better take you back to the boardinghouse. You can wait for us there,” Nicholas ordered.
“No,” Mara said, jumping from the safety of the carriage into the muddy street before either Nicholas or the Swede could make a move to check her flight. “I will not wait. I’m going with you,” she proclaimed, “and you can’t stop me. I have to be there, Nicholas.”
“You might as well let her come,” the Swede advised. “I’d rather she were with us than sneaking around in the dark behind us.”
Nicholas shrugged as he paid off the coachman, promising him a large tip if he’d wait. With the Swede and Mara on each side of him, he began walking down the street.
It was quiet along the row of warehouses, although farther along were the rowdy grog shops and bawdy houses that attracted the scum of the waterfront with the cheap whiskey and cheaper women to be found inside the gloomy and squalid shacks that huddled together against the cold winds off the bay. They moved slowly along the front of the warehouses trying to read the lettering painted on the outside. They passed by fine hardware and woolen goods, printing materials and paper, ship’s stores and glass, all the large buildings darkened at this time of night. The next one they passed, however, had a glimmer of light showing from a small window at the back. And painted in huge letters across the front was the advertisement for building materials.
“They’re probably in the small office at the back of the building. I think the best thing to do is for you to go around to the back. There’s most likely a door from the office leading out into the alley. I’ll enter through the door next to the main part of the warehouse,” Nicholas spoke quietly. “That way, we’ll have them between us. Do you remember that Indian yell you used to cut loose with when we’d pass other boats on the Mississippi?” Nicholas asked suddenly.
“Sure do,” the Swede answered with a broad grin as he understood Nicholas’s idea.
“Give me a few minutes to get inside, Swede, then come through the door when you’re ready,” Nicholas said. Then, without another word, he slipped into the darkness.
Mara jumped nervously as a hand was clapped to her shoulder. Then she heard the Swede’s deep voice speak softly in her ear.
“We’ll get him back for you, Mara. I swear we will,” he reassured her, and then strode off to position himself outside the door.
Mara pulled her little derringer from her purse and followed them along the side of the building until she was just below the window where the square of light was shining through. There was no sign of Nicholas, and the Swede had disappeared around the far side of the building.
Nicholas had paused before the outside door and halfheartedly tried the door handle, controlling his start of surprise when it turned beneath his palm and the door opened. Apparently the kidnappers thought themselves so secure that they never imagined someone tracking them down, nor suspected a surprise attack. They hadn’t even bothered to lock the door.
Nicholas stepped inside. Although it was dark, he could just barely make out the bulky, rounded shapes of large barrels and stacked crates. He cursed as he tripped over the handle of a shovel that had fallen across the passageway from the line of shovels, picks, and saws leaning against the wall. He sidestepped several wheelbarrows in the center of the floor. At the back of the cavernous warehouse Nicholas could see a thin strip of light showing from beneath the door.
Nicholas stood silently waiting just outside of the door, knowing that any minute now a bloodcurdling scream would shatter the silence of the night, and then the Swede himself would follow his bellow of rage into the small room as all hell broke loose.
Nicholas heard a cough and then a rough laugh followed by a woman’s voice behind the door. Suddenly he hoped that they had the right warehouse, and the people inside the office weren’t just working late on accounts. For they’d never be the same after hearing the Swede’s war cry. But then, it must be nearing eleven o’clock, and no merchant would be working so late, Nicholas reasoned, and certainly not with a woman or a child, Nicholas added grimly as he distinctly heard a small child’s squeal of fear.
Suddenly a savage, inhuman cry ripped through the stillness of the warehouse, causing even Nicholas’s flesh to creep as he swung open the door at the precise instant that the outside door split into pieces under the force of the Swede’s broad shoulder.
The occupants of the room had been temporarily immobilized with terror by the sound and the suddenness of the attack. Nicholas and the giant Swede charged into the room from either side.
Molly fainted dead with fright, her body slumping in the corner of the room as the Count and Jacques turned to face their attackers.
As Jacques recognized the almost satanic face of Nicholas Chantale, he almost gave up. But because he knew he’d receive no mercy from this foe, he pulled his pistol from his coat pocket and took hasty aim at the figure flying at him. But Nicholas was faster and dived at Jacques’s legs, knocking him off balance. They fell to the floor in a tangled heap, Jacques hitting out at anything he came in contact with, his feet kicking viciously at Nicholas as they rolled across the floor.
The Swede had, in one clean punch, knocked several of the Count’s front teeth down his throat, breaking the man’s jaw with the same powerful blow. He now stood spread-eagled over the Count’s bloodied body, his arms akimbo, watching with enjoyment as Nicholas fought Jacques. It seemed as if Jacques D’Arcy was getting the worst of it as the Swede saw Nicholas’s fist connect with the Frenchman’s nose. Suddenly the Swede caught the flash of steel, but before he could call out a warning to Nicholas, Jacques had struck, the knife blade piercing through the flesh of Nicholas’s shoulder.
Jacques was on his feet in an instant, Nicholas having lost his hold on him, but before he could reach the door, Nicholas called out for him to stop. Jacques turned with an evil grin crossing his bloodied face as he raised his arm, ready to throw the deadly dagger through the air. But this time Nicholas hadn’t been caught off guard. The ear-shattering report of his pistol filled the room with noise and smoke as the bullet struck Jacques, sending him backward against the wall. He fell to the floor dead, the look of surprised pain still on his face.
“You hurt bad, Nick?” the Swede called as Nicholas struggled to his feet.
Nicholas grimaced as he looked down at his blood-soaked shirt and coat. “I’ll be all right. Where’s the boy?”
The Swede and Nicholas glanced around the room, their eyes traveling quickly and without interest over the prostrate form of Molly as they searched for the little boy. Suddenly Nicholas stepped forward as a bundle of blankets piled in the corner moved slightly. Flinging aside the suffocating cover, he stared down in disbelieving anger at the little boy tied up beneath. His dark curls were tangled above fear-widened eyes as he blinked up at the tall, savage-looking man looming above him, blood smearing his hands.
He cringed in horror as his round eyes caught the rustling movement of Molly just behind the tall man standing over him. Nicholas’s attention was drawn t
o the sound as Molly, having regained consciousness and discovering she’d lost, was trying to slip unnoticed from the room. As the Swede made a move to stop her, Nicholas shook his head, signaling him to let her go.
“She lost, and she knows it,” Nicholas said as he turned back to the little boy. “I don’t think we need worry about her any longer.”
“If she tries to cause any more trouble, I’ll make her wish she’d never set foot in California,” the Swede promised, an angry glint still darkening his soft blue eyes.
When Mara had heard the Swede’s terrifying scream, she had stood aghast, paralyzed with fear, until she heard the sound of a scuffle, and then the roar of a pistol. She had finally come to her senses and started toward the breached entrance to the office, when a figure suddenly emerged from it and Mara came face-to-face with Molly.
The two women stared at each other in silence for a second, before Molly gestured contemptuously at the small gun Mara held pointed at her.
“You won’t shoot me,” Molly spat. “But if I were holding the gun, I would kill you without a qualm: You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. You may have gotten help this time, but those two can’t always be around to protect you,” she warned with a sneer. “Just remember that I intend to get that fortune, and that I’ll be here waiting. I can get fifty more friends who’d like a share of it. You haven’t won, Mara O’Flynn…but I will, eventually,” she promised as she gave Mara a vicious push against the wall and rushed past her down the alley, disappearing into the street.
Mara breathed a shuddering sigh and hurried to the debris-scattered doorway of the office. “Paddy!” she cried as she stood looking around her in dismay.
Paddy’s silence crumbled as he heard Mara’s voice, and with a cry he started to struggle from his bonds.
Nicholas stepped aside as Mara rushed into the room, her eyes seeing only Paddy’s little body huddled in the corner. The Swede squatted down and quickly cut the ropes binding Paddy’s wrists and ankles. Then Mara had him in her arms. She held him pressed tightly against her breast.
“She said she was my mama. She isn’t, she isn’t, I hate her!” Paddy cried, his sobbing muffled against Mara as he wrapped his arms around her neck. “She’s ugly and awful and I hate her!”
“There, there—it’s all right now. Mara’s here, isn’t she? Have I ever let anything happen to you? Now come on, Paddy, we’re leaving here and you’ll never have to see her again, I promise you,” Mara told him as she struggled to her feet, Paddy’s weight dragging her down.
“Here, let me take the little fellow,” the Swede said as he scooped Paddy up in his arms and grinned down at him.
Mara turned around and stopped in surprise as she saw, for the first time, the blood on Nicholas’s shirtfront. “Oh, Nicholas,” she breathed softly as she hurried to him. He swayed slightly.
Putting her arm around his waist, she steadied him, ignoring the quizzical look in his green eyes as she helped him to the door. They left behind a crumpled Count and the late Jacques D’Arcy.
Nicholas now leaning heavily against her, Mara followed the Swede’s bold stride out into the night. She could feel Nicholas’s breath warm against her forehead. “Are you all right? Do you want to rest?”
Nicholas glanced down at her face, her eyes wide with concern as she stared up at him. “Do you care?” he asked cynically.
“Yes, I do,” Mara answered simply as they stepped out into the street. She nearly collided with the Swede’s heavy bulk. He stood stock still, staring at the skyline.
“My God! The city’s on fire!”
Mara and Nicholas followed his gaze in disbelief as flames shot upward above the rooftops of San Francisco, the crackling heat engulfing everything. Nicholas’s arm tightened instinctively around Mara’s shoulders as they stood watching the heavy smoke billowing up above the city, the whole sky lit by the fire.
“It looks like it started over toward Portsmouth Square, but it’s spreading fast,” Nicholas said worriedly.
“Jamie!” Mara cried out as her eyes stared in dazed horror at the flames shooting up into the sky. “And Jenny and the boys, they’re right in the middle of it. We’ve got to get to them!”
People were crowding out onto the street to watch the fire, and in the distance they could hear the clanging of fire engines.
The Swede stared down the street where they had left their carriage. It was gone. A man was climbing up onto the seat of a wagon across the street and the Swede hailed him. “Give us a lift uptown?”
At the man’s nod they hurried across, the Swede tossing Paddy up first, then lifting Mara in before jumping up himself. Holding a hand down for Nicholas, he helped him climb aboard. Seated in the back of the wagon, they rode toward the heart of the fire, not bothering to question why their driver should be riding right into it. At least they didn’t wonder until they passed several wagons loaded down with goods of every description, and realized that looters were already at work, scavenging at the scene of the disaster.
As they neared the fire, the heat intensified, becoming almost unbearable. Their eyes began to burn and they coughed as they breathed in the thick layer of smoke that hung over the city. They quickly fled their transport as they neared the fire, not caring to be shot as looters. As falling timbers crashed to the street with a shower of sparks and spooked the already frightened horses, they moved to safety on the side of the road. A minute later a team of screaming horses, pulling what remained of a wagon, fled past, their eyes rolling in fear as they raced through the streets.
Buildings were collapsing all around them. In the distance they began to hear loud explosions as the desperate men fighting the fire dynamited. It was a vain attempt to stop the fire’s march as it was fanned by a northeaster blowing it into the most densely populated part of the city. They passed the burned-out ruins of restaurants and hotels where all that was left were melted piles of twisted silverware and molten glass among the smoldering embers.
Hundreds of people were crowding into the street, some crying for help, others moaning in pain from injuries suffered in trying to save their belongings from the destruction of the fire. The sky above them was smothered in a dense black cloud of smoke that rolled across the flame-lit city and blended with the dull orange glow that looked like a false sunrise. The air was thick with choking, sulfuric fumes from the blasting that was going on in a last-ditch effort to halt the fire. The water supply had long ago run out and now the firefighters could only stand helplessly aside while building after building fell prey to the voracious flames.
The fire raced along Kearny from the plaza, already ablaze, and down Montgomery toward the wharves along the bay. Incredibly enough, some of the buildings in the plaza still stood, among them the El Dorado, its gaming tables and roulette wheels still safe. But where the Union Hotel had once stood, now only smoldering bricks remained, and the Parker House was lighting up the sky with its flames.
They wearily made their way up the hill, pushing their way through the throngs of panicked people fleeing the roaring heat. The wind increased as they climbed the hill toward Jenny’s boardinghouse, praying they would find it still standing. With a cry of happiness Mara saw the plain, little building outlined against the backdrop of distant flames.
The Swede rushed ahead, pushing through the door with Paddy clinging around his neck. Mara and Nicholas, following close behind, entered the hallway in time to see the Swede vaulting up the stairs two at a time as he called out, his voice bellowing through the silent house.
Jenny appeared at the top of the stairs with a bundled-up Peter in her arms, his little red head covered by a cap. Gordie and Paul crowded close, their arms full of their most prized possessions. Jamie had come out behind them, her arm in a professionally wrapped sling as she peered over the railing, her wizened face seeming to split open with a thousand wrinkles as she caught sight of Paddy.
“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” the Swede urged them as he helped to guide the heavily laden
group down the stairs. “We should get to a safer place higher on the hill.”
Jenny smiled stiffly around her bruises as she stared up at the Swede and Paddy. The Swede herded them from the boardinghouse, Jenny glancing back sadly at her home as she slowly made her way up the hill.
***
Below them the city of San Francisco continued to burn through the early morning hours. A blood red sun rose slowly over the city and revealed the devastating destruction. The fire was finally beginning to die out, and people were starting to return to their homes, hopeful that they would still be standing.
“We missed our ship,” Mara said suddenly as she stared out over the bay and saw the tall masts of the sailing ships standing starkly against the hazy sky. “It sailed last night. I forgot all about it.”
“You needn’t leave now, Mara,” the Swede spoke beside her. “The danger is gone and you’ve got Paddy back.”
Mara shook her head, still not believing it was over. She remembered Molly’s threats. “For how long? I can’t always run to you, Swede, when I need help. Molly’s down there, just waiting. Now more than ever, she’ll need the money to get herself started again,” Mara told him as she chewed on her lower lip. “I’d always be worrying about Paddy, wondering where he was, if he were safe. No,” Mara said softly, “I’ve got to leave.”
The Swede put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly as they stood there and stared silently at the ruins of the city. Nicholas’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he noticed the warm smile Mara gave the Swede before she turned away and walked over to see how Jamie and Paddy were doing. Both had succumbed to sleep and were snuggled close together under a blanket.
“I’ve got a proposition to put to you, Mara O’Flynn,” Nicholas said as Mara knelt down next to him and checked his bandaged shoulder. “I’m leaving for New Orleans today, and I want you to come with me.”
“What?” Mara gasped, her golden eyes staring at him in amazement.
Laurie McBain Page 37