by Jane Toombs
“If we had a cannon,” Danny said grimly, “we could blow a great hole in the side of that ship. Then we could rush in and free Rhynne.”
“We might kill him; we have no idea where he is. Besides, Danny, we have no way to get a cannon.”
“I’m just supposing,” Danny said. “The mind needs exercise to work properly. If we could only storm the jail, like the French stormed the Bastille.”
“I’m afraid in this instance the mob’s on the jailors’ side, not ours.”
“Ah, if only we knew how many jailors there were on that ship. With the comings and goings at times I think four or five, and then again I think there may be as many as ten or more. Perhaps it’s by stealth we’ll enter the ship, disguising ourselves first.”
“W.W.’s disguise certainly didn’t succeed. What are we to dress up as? Red Indians? They did that once in Boston. Proper San Francisco businessmen?”
Danny shook his head. “A strange place, surely, for a jail. A ship . . .”
“Well, they’re using other ships as hotels and stores. Why not a jail? Better, I suppose, than leaving them to rot.”
They stared at the Argonaut. The ship, built with a V-shaped keel for speed, loomed some twenty feet above the ground. Eight timbers had been placed on each side of the hull to prop the Argonaut upright until the land around her could be filled.
“Perhaps,” Pamela said, “something could be done when W.W.’s taken from the ship in the morning to be ...” She hesitated. There was a catch in her voice when she went on. “To be hanged.”
“No, they intend to do their dirty work aboard the vessel, or so goes the tale in the city.”
As a man, somewhat the worse for drink, passed them, he lashed out with his cane as though beheading imaginary flowers. On a sudden thought, Danny was surprised it wasn’t a guillotine they’d be using on the morrow. How the mob would relish the sight of blood! A hanging’s tame sport unless the trap’s poorly sprung and the poor bastard dangles at the end of the rope.
“Danny,” Pamela said, “we have to do something soon.”
“There’s one wild notion I have, Pamela, and who’s to say it won’t work?” He took a gold watch from his pocket and glanced at it. “Two o’clock. Let’s find the others. We have only sixteen hours left.”
“Selena said she’d wait at the Golden Empire,” Pamela told him. “What’s your plan?”
“Mac will be there too, and Jed. We’ll go to the Empire and I’ll tell all of you there.”
At seven that evening, Selena, wearing her new peach gown with a cage crinoline flaring it out and carrying a peach-colored parasol, walked to the ramp leading to the Argonaut. The guard barred her way.
“I must see Captain Fitzpatrick at once,” she said imperiously. “I’ve been looking for him all afternoon and finally discovered quite by chance he was here of all places. I’d begun to believe he was hiding from me.”
“The captain is busy, miss.” The guard leered at the low cut of Selena’s gown.
Selena stamped her foot. “Barry Fitzpatrick is never too busy to see me. Never. Now please tell him I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, miss. I have orders not to trouble him.”
She laughed. “Do I look like I intend to trouble him? Actually I’m only a messenger. Leland particularly stressed that I deliver his note to Barry with my own hand.” She held out her hand, gloved in pearl grey. “Lee said to me, ‘Who can I trust in these parlous times?’ and I told him he could always count on me, that I would find Barry Fitzpatrick if it took a year and a day and personally deliver his message. And so here I am.” She smiled up at the guard.
Involuntarily he smiled back before going to a rope strung behind the ramp rail. When he pulled it Selena heard a bell ring on the ship and in a few minutes Barry appeared at the top of the ramp.
“Selena,” he said, coming toward her. “What in hell are you doing here?”
“She said she had a message,” the guard told him.
Selena started up the ramp but Barry took her by the arm and led her back down. Glancing at the guard, he drew Selena some distance away. She heard water lapping against the piling nearby as she drew off her gloves.
“All right, Selena,” Barry said. “Do you really have a message?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m here to beg you to release W.W. He’s not guilty, you know he’s not, and still you’re going to let them hang him.”
“There’s nothing I could do even if I wanted to. It’s out of my hands. Now come, Selena, let me take you home.”
She started to cry. “Barry,” she sobbed, “how can you be so cruel, so heartless?”
He let her rest her head on his shoulder. When she finally raised her face to his, he smelled mignonette and something else besides. “Selena,” he asked, “have you been drinking?”
“I may have had a sip or two of brandy,” she said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.
“Oh, Barry,” she said, clinging to him, “I couldn’t help myself.”
He disentangled himself from her arms.
“Are you trying to bribe me?” he asked. “Are you offering yourself in exchange for Rhynne?”
She flew at him, scratching and clawing his face. Barry tried to elude her but one of her hands found and raked his cheek. He finally grasped her arms and held her away. Selena wrenched loose and ran. Feeling her shoes sink into the rain-softened earth she tried to stop but fell into the mud and water at the edge of the bay.
When she looked up she saw Barry standing over her, his tall figure outlined against the lights of the city. “Do you really think I’m a loose woman?” she asked in a small voice.
“No, you’re an impetuous young girl involved in something she doesn’t understand. Now let me help you up.”
She gave him her hand and he pulled her to her feet. “My dress,” she wailed, “my bag, my parasol. They’re all ruined.”
“Come over here.” He took her to where, in the light from the flares in the road, she could see her torn and mud-spattered gown. She did her best to clean it off, but felt it was hopeless.
“Oh, Barry,” she said, close to tears, “this was the first time I’ve worn it. What a sight I must be.”
“You’d look lovely to me no matter what you wore.”
“Captain Fitzpatrick. Always the gallant.”
She let him lead her back toward the ship. “Now may I escort you home?” he asked.
“Only if I can freshen up first. I took hours getting ready, you know. Literally hours. And all for you.” She stopped walking and looked up at his strong, impassive face.
“Barry,” she said, “I told you how we girls used to feel about you when we were on the trail. I still feel the same way and have ever since that first day when I met you again in our new house. You think I’m a girl who teases and flirts and acts foolishly. Probably I’m not the kind of girl you really like. I can almost picture the kind you do, the sort of girl a man like you would want to marry, someone quietly pretty. Demure. Good at sewing and running a house. I’m not like that--I never will be. Still that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
“Selena,” he said, “I—” He looked away, seeming confused.” Come along,” he said gruffly, propelling her up the ramp to the ship. “We’ll have you cleaned up in no time”
“Aren’t you afraid to allow me on board? I might spirit Mr. Rhynne away.”
“He’s safely locked up ‘tween decks where you’ll never even see him.”
The men on deck clustered around them, each, Selena saw, with a pistol in his belt. They raised their eyebrows when they saw the scratches on Barry’s cheeks but made no comment.
“The young lady fell,” Barry told them. “I’m going to let her use the necessary for a few minutes.”
The men stood aside, amused at the captain’s evident discomfiture. Barry indicated a door on the far side of the cabin. When Selena emerged five minutes later her face was washed, her hair brushed, and she had res
tored some semblance of order to her clothes. “I feel so much better now,” she said, taking Barry’s arm. They walked down the ramp to the street where Barry helped her into his rig. He clucked to the horse and they set off through the city toward Rincon Hill.
“Selena,” he said as they rode along Portsmouth Street. “Did you actually believe you could persuade me to release Rhynne? Or entice me to?”
She sighed. “I suppose not, but I had to do something. This afternoon I said to myself, ‘Selena, if you don’t try to help that poor unfortunate man imprisoned aboard that ship, you’ll never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again.’ So I tried. Was there more I could have done?”
“No. You did all you could.”
“I should have known you’d be clever enough to see through my little stratagems. That’s why I had the glass of brandy before I came, to fire up my courage. I’m afraid all it did was make me dizzy.”
When they left Market Street to climb Rincon, Selena turned from Barry and looked back at the city. As she did she put her hand over the side of the carriage, letting a folded piece of paper fall to the ground.
After the rig was out of sight, Danny O’Lee stepped from the shadows and retrieved the paper. He held the penciled note beside his lantern. “Rhynne ‘tween decks,” he read. “One guard ashore, five on ship. All armed.”
For a moment he stared up the hill, thinking of Selena, remembering holding her in his arms. “Damn you, Fitzpatrick,” he said.
He turned and, as he made his way toward the docks, tore the note into shreds, scattering the pieces along the way.
“Your house is dark,” Barry said as he helped Selena from the rig.
“Pamela must still be at the church.”
“The church? She’s one of the last I’d have expected to get religious.”
“She didn’t,” Selena said, unlocking the door. “She’s trying to make arrangements with Reverend Courtney to have him see Mr. Rhynne in the morning. At five o’clock. There was some question as to whether the Reverend would consent to go or not.”
“I can understand why.” Barry went around the parlor lighting the lamps. “From what I heard this Rhynne’s rather an unsavory type.”
“Barry, you don’t understand him. I know he’s owned brothels and gambling saloons, still does own them. And he can be ruthless. On the other hand, he’s one of the kindest and most thoughtful men I know. He likes children, loves to quote poetry. I always think of him as a terribly lonely man. He needs someone, Barry. Someone like Pamela.”
“Pamela? Pamela and Rhynne? Are you out of your mind? Lady Buttle-Jones and a common gambler?”
“Why not? Two years ago I would have scoffed too. Even last year. Now I’m not sure. My mother’s changed since she’s been here in California. We all have.” Selena lowered her face into her hands. “I keep forgetting Rhynne will hang in the morning.”
Barry put his arms around her. “I can’t free Rhynne. If there’s anything else I can do, I will.”
“Hold me, Barry, that’s all I want. Just hold me.”
He kissed the top of her hair. She could feel excitement grow in him. “Where is everyone?” Barry asked. “The servants?”
“This is Thursday, their night off. There’s no one here.” She nestled against him. “I’m frightened, Barry. I hate being alone. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been afraid that one day I’d have no one. That I’d be old and alone. I couldn’t stand that. I think I’d kill myself first.”
“You’ll never be alone.”
She shook her head, shivering.
“You’re cold.” He held her away from him. “You should change that dress. It’s still wet, I can feel it. You must be soaked through.”
“You will stay, won’t you, Barry? At least until Pamela comes home?”
“Of course I will. Now go along and change your clothes. There’s enough illness about as it is.”
He means the cholera, Selena thought. She turned her head to hide the tears which had come unbidden to her eyes. Lydia May. The coffin garlanded with white flowers being lowered into the grave. I’ve been so selfish, Selena thought. I’ll change, she promised herself. I’ll become a different person.
“Are you all right?” Barry asked.
She nodded. Holding her skirts, she ran up the stairs.
In the dark of her bedroom she took off her wet shoes, then unbuttoned and stepped out of her dress. She glanced out the window at the city, the yellow glow of the lamps, the myriad lights shining through the canvas of the tents. She looked carefully along the waterfront where the brightness of the docks met the dark of the bay.
Seeing nothing unusual, she sighed. Could Danny bring off his plan? She shook her head doubtfully. Such a wild scheme, just like him. Wistfully she recalled nursing him after the duel. He was such a boy then. But he’d changed too these last few years. Dan O’Lee had become a man.
Selena removed the rest of her clothes, found a towel, and rubbed herself briskly. Going to her wardrobe she took out her white silk robe and held it in front of the window. Through the diaphanous cloth she could clearly see the lights of San Francisco.
Smiling, she slipped into the robe and tied the sash. When she turned to leave the room to go down to the parlor, she stopped with a gasp.
Barry Fitzpatrick stood watching her from the doorway.
Danny walked up to the bar of Paddy’s Saloon. “I’ll be wanting something to warm the lads standing guard across the street,” he told the bartender.
“A hot toddy it is, then.”
Danny watched him mix the drink. When he was done, the barman plunged a glowing red poker into the pitcher to heat it.
Danny threw a gold coin on the bar, took the pitcher and walked across the road humming to himself. Only four or five stragglers still huddled together staring at the jail. Danny supposed more would be arriving as the hour for the hanging neared.
The guard stepped from the shadows with a lantern in one hand, a pistol in the other.
“Sure, and I’m bringing you a toddy,” Danny said. “Compliments of Paddy himself.”
“It’s cold as a witch’s tit tonight,” the guard said. “Put the pitcher there like a good lad.” He nodded to the top of a packing case.
Danny hurled the toddy in the guard’s face. Taking a truncheon from under his coat, he struck the man on the back of the head. The guard pitched to the ground. Danny snatched up the pistol and thrust it under his belt. He shielded the guard’s lantern, then gagged and bound him.
When the guard was thoroughly trussed, he dragged him into the shadows a short distance away. Then, returning to the ramp, he looked up at the ship. No one was about. Unshielding the lantern, he held it aloft, lowered it, then held it aloft once more. He saw an answering light a hundred yards away along the road.
Smiling grimly, Danny took up his post next to the ramp. In a few minutes, he knew, all hell would break loose.
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Barry,” she whispered. She backed toward the window.
Barry took a step toward her. He said nothing and in the darkness she couldn’t see his face.
A prickle of excitement ran along her arms even though she told herself she must get him out of the bedroom. It was too early, too soon. Selena drew her robe together and started for the door just as Barry came into the room toward her. She moved quickly to one side. Only when she saw it looming beside her did she realize she’d stepped toward the Louis XIV bed.
Barry reached for her but she held him off, putting her hands against his chest.
“Good heavens, Captain Fitzpatrick,” she said. “I thought you had scruples about entering a lady’s bedroom.” The huskiness in her voice belied the light note she’d intended.
He grasped her wrists and brought her hands down to her sides. For a moment he stood facing her, not moving, with his chest lightly touching her breasts, and then his lips brushed her lips. Even though she turned her head away, his lips found hers. She hesitate
d, then kissed him. As the kiss lengthened, a tingling coursed through her body. She knew she was seducing him and she knew why she was doing it. But the knowledge of her ulterior motive didn’t interfere with her enraptured response.
She kissed him hungrily and heard him draw in his breath. His hands came up along her sides to her breasts. His mouth nuzzled her throat as he nipped her flesh with his teeth. When the tip of his tongue explored the convolutions of her ear, Selena gasped with surprise and pleasure.
“Barry!” she whispered urgently.
He tried to cover her lips with his.
“No, wait. Stop. I heard a sound. Like a carriage in the street.”
She stood frozen in his arms, listening.
“I hear nothing,” he said.
“I’m sure I did. It must be Pamela back from the church. And you left your rig outside.”
Reluctantly, he released her. “I’ll see,” he said. He stopped at the door and came back, kissing her quickly. She clung to him. Again he turned from her and she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
She looked from the window. Still nothing. How much longer would Danny wait? She sighed, the taste of Barry’s kisses still on her lips, the excitement still smoldering within her. How much longer could she delay him?
When Barry returned to the house, he lit a candle in the parlor, holding it in front of him as he climbed the stairs. He pushed open the door to Selena’s bedroom. Where was she? Seeing the drawn curtains on the Louis XIV bed, he smiled to himself. He found the rope next to the wall and pulled its tasseled end.
The curtains parted to reveal an empty bed.
“Damn,” he said. Shielding the candle flame with one hand, he walked into the hallway. Outside he heard the hoot of an owl and a board creaked somewhere below him. He descended the stairs, pausing at the bottom when he saw a light in the rear of the house.
When he came to the open kitchen door he stopped and stared. Selena sat at the table with her back to him. “What in the name of hell are you doing?” he asked her.