Thornton hesitated. He was not someone who could think quickly, and there were so many possible outcomes if he accepted the judge’s offer that he was lost in the maze they created. What he could see clearly was a vision of W. B. Thornton draped in the robes of a justice of the supreme court.
Thornton was ambitious, and an appointment to the court would be a tremendous boost to those ambitions. Then there were the future financial rewards to which Jed had alluded. But Tyler had left no doubt about the quid pro quo in this Faustian bargain. Could he do it? Could he fix the result of a case? If he was suspected of fixing a case of this magnitude, he would be destroyed, but who could prove anything since only he and Tyler would know what transpired in his study?
“You can count on me, Jed.”
“Then it’s done.”
Tyler stood. Thornton walked him to the front door in a daze. As soon as the judge was outside, beads of sweat appeared on Thornton’s brow and he felt dizzy. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes. As he took long, slow breaths to calm his racing heart, he was assailed by doubt and wondered what he had gotten himself into.
AS SOON AS JED TYLER was out of sight of Thornton’s house his shoulders sagged. He felt sick about what he’d just done. Thornton did not have the intellect to sit on the court, and fixing a case went against everything Tyler stood for, but he had no choice. His life had been barren without Sharon Hill in it, and he could not give her up. Her happiness meant everything to him, and she could not be happy while this stain on her dignity remained. And, of course, there was the money and power controlling the Gillette fortune would bring them.
Tyler had done well in the West, but Benjamin Gillette’s success was magnificent. Once Tyler was in control of Gillette’s enterprises and fortune, he would be the most powerful man in Oregon and one of the most powerful men on the West Coast of the United States. Allying himself with Sharon Hill was risky, but the rewards would be astounding if the risk paid off.
CHAPTER 49
The maid showed Orville Mason into the parlor and went to summon Heather.
“Have you come about the marriage case?” Heather asked as soon as she sat down across from her lawyer.
“No. I want to talk to you about something else that requires your attention. But I am taking some action in Hill’s case that may decide the matter. Bernard Hoxie is the California attorney who prepared the marriage contract. I’m going to San Francisco to confront Hoxie and explain what will happen to him if he testifies for Hill. If he sees the light and admits the forgery, we’ll be rid of Miss Hill.”
“If Hoxie prepared a forged marriage contract for Hill, he’s a criminal. Will you be in danger?”
“Hoxie does have a bad reputation, but I’m no adventurer. I don’t plan on getting into anything I can’t get out of. Don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“If you didn’t come to talk to me about the marriage contract, why are you here?”
“I haven’t pressed you about certain matters because you’ve been grieving, but I don’t feel I can put off this discussion any longer. Ben was the moving force behind a financial empire worth many millions of dollars. There’s the bank, the shipping company, his stores—”
“I’m well aware of his business holdings.”
“Then you appreciate the fact that, as Ben’s heir, you must make decisions involving them. There’s nothing to worry about for the immediate future. Good men are running the enterprises and I’ve been overseeing them, but there are some pressing matters that require your attention. Since Ben passed away I’ve entertained offers to buy out your interest in a number of his companies. Some of these offers have come from San Francisco, and I can discuss them with the interested parties while I’m there. That means I need guidance from you concerning them.”
“What do you think I should do, Orville?”
“If you sell everything Ben owns, you’ll be wealthy and independent for life. Apart from a sale, I can arrange for you to retain stock in the more profitable ventures. This will provide you with a steady, and considerable, income.”
“What will happen if I don’t sell?”
“It’s hard to say. Ben was the driving force behind his business ventures. To a great extent, it was his personality and business acumen that made them successful. As I said, he recruited good men to help run them. We could promote some to provide continuity, but I don’t know what will happen without Ben at the helm.”
“Would my taking the helm provide continuity?” Heather asked.
“You?” Orville asked, taken aback by the suggestion. The idea of any woman taking control of a multimillion-dollar business empire had never occurred to him.
“I’m Ben’s daughter. He discussed his businesses with me all the time, and he trusted my judgment. You and the good men my father put in place can educate me further. And believe me, if I find I’m not up to the task, I’ll tell you. I have no wish to destroy what my father spent a lifetime building.”
Orville recalled what he admired most about Heather. It was her intelligence and independent spirit. Looking back, he realized that there was nothing he’d discussed with her about her father’s estate that she had not grasped, and there was no question that she possessed her father’s tenacity and charm.
“If you help me in this, I know I can succeed,” Heather said. “Will you do that for me?”
Orville smiled. “Of course I will.”
CHAPTER 50
As soon as Orville left, Heather went upstairs and changed into breeches and a flannel shirt. She threw on a heavy jacket and went to the stables, where she had the stable hand saddle her favorite horse.
Heather had been to San Francisco on several occasions, but she had only been exposed to the bright side of the City by the Bay. If Bernard Hoxie was a man so morally bankrupt that he would forge a marriage contract for a slattern like Sharon Hill, Heather assumed that Orville would find him in the darker parts of the city that were explored by a gentleman only at his peril.
Orville Mason was fearless and brilliant in a courtroom or political arena, but Heather doubted that he had ever been in physical danger. Matthew Penny had confronted violence and survived on the Oregon Trail, at Caleb Barbour’s house, and on the road from Gillette House on the evening of the Keans’ performance when he’d been attacked. Orville was ill equipped to deal with a villain like Hoxie, but Heather trusted Matthew to use force to defend Orville if it became necessary.
Heather had another reason for enlisting Matthew as Orville’s bodyguard. Killing Caleb Barbour had changed Matthew, and Worthy Brown’s insistence that he take the blame for the killing was destroying him. If Worthy followed through with his plan, Matthew would go through life with the blood of two men on his hands, and Heather was afraid of what Matthew might do if Worthy was hanged.
Heather cared for Matthew. She even considered the possibility that she loved him. When they had kissed in the gazebo after the theater, her heart had soared. Rather than diminishing her feelings for him, Matthew’s confession of his love for Rachel had earned her respect. And they had definitely been drawn to each other while Matthew was convalescing. Heather had no idea what would have happened between them if Matthew had not killed Caleb Barbour and if her father had not died. Those events made it impossible for their personal relationship to move forward. But there was one thing Heather knew for certain. No matter what the future held for the two of them, she had to find a way to save Matthew. She hoped that getting him away from Portland might lift his spirits.
Heather tethered her mount to a hitching post and walked up the stairs to Matthew’s office. She watched him through the window. He was concentrating on a document.
Matthew looked up when the door opened. “Heather, what brings you to town?”
“Did you know that Orville is going to San Francisco?” Heather asked.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Matthew asked.
“I want to ask you for a favor. I would feel much better if Orville didn’t confront Hoxie alone. Would you go with him to San Francisco?”
Matthew didn’t answer right away. Heather could see conflicting emotions twisting him.
“Please. I am afraid of what a man like Hoxie will do if he feels threatened.”
“You’re right. Orville is ill equipped to deal with a man like Hoxie. I’ll go with him.”
Heather reached out a touched Matthew’s hand. “Thank you, Matthew. I knew I could count on you.”
“You’re a good friend to Orville and to me. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t appreciate that.”
For a moment, Heather thought that he would say more, prayed that he would. Then he pulled his hand away.
“I’ve got to finish my work. It’s for a case,” he said.
“I understand,” Heather answered, though she wasn’t talking about his need to complete his reading of any legal papers. “Thank you for helping Orville.”
CHAPTER 51
Shortly after midnight, the lights of her salons and staterooms aglow, the steamship Northern Star drew in through the Golden Gate, passed the fortifications that guarded the narrow entrance to the bay, and steamed around the little island of Alcatraz, firing her guns to announce her arrival. From the deck, Orville Mason and Matthew Penny took in the tumultuous scene. Clipper ships filled the harbor with a forest of sails; steamers as large and showy as those on the Hudson and Mississippi lay at anchor in a blaze of light. Behind those ships, from the water’s edge to the base of her three hills, and from the Old Presidio to the Mission, flickering all over with the lamps of her streets and houses, lay San Francisco.
In 1847, San Francisco was no more than a small trading post and mission station with a population of four hundred. By 1850, as a result of the Gold Rush, the population had soared to twenty-five thousand. The metropolis the two friends stared at from the deck of the Northern Star now had a population of 56,802 and boasted, “New York dresses better than Paris and San Francisco better than New York.”
Matthew bulled his way through the throng around the gangplank to a hackney coach with Orville close behind. Orville told the driver to take them to the five-story, fireproof International Hotel on Jackson before settling into the silk-lined luxury of the coach. The driver snapped the whip, and the silver-loaded harness jangled as the horses pushed through the express wagons, handcarts, cabs, coaches, and people who filled the dockside streets even at this late hour.
Orville and Matthew were exhausted, but the manic energy of the city acted like strong coffee. Sikhs, Chinese, and Samoans jostled one another as they walked along the lamp-lit cobblestone streets past elegant, three-story buildings. Ragged children ran beside the coach begging for pennies. Streetwalkers mixed easily with ladies of unquestioned virtue and the gentlemen who escorted them. By day, the clattering hooves and wheels of commercial horse-and-wagon traffic filled the streets. At night, this racket was replaced by the laughter and music that poured out of the city’s saloons and theaters.
Sidewalk musicians were entertaining the crowds outside the entrance to the International. Matthew saw young boys on the fringe of the crowd openly hawking pornographic books and pictures. The coachman carried Orville’s and Matthew’s bags to the hotel entrance, knocking aside a filthy urchin who tried to interest Orville in a picture portraying two buxom women engaged in an act that guaranteed them a suite in hell. The price for the short ride from the docks was extravagant, but Orville would have been disappointed if anything in this larger-than-life city had not been dear.
Their room was on the fifth floor. Orville tipped the porter, while Matthew threw back the shutters and took in the view.
“My God,” Matthew exclaimed as he looked down from this unaccustomed height, “this must be the way a hawk sees the world.”
Orville had experienced a similar pleasure in the belfry of his father’s church, but the tranquil feeling engendered by the snowcapped mountains and virgin forests of the Willamette Valley was nothing like the electricity generated by the chaos and decadence of San Francisco.
After unpacking, the attorneys went down to the dining room for a late dinner. By the time they returned to their rooms, they could think of nothing but the pleasure of passing out in their luxurious beds. Orville was asleep in minutes, but the elation Matthew had experienced deserted him as soon as he closed his eyes.
Self-pity and a lack of hope made Matthew despair in Portland, but he had never been to sea, and the voyage coupled with the noise and lights of the City by the Bay had the effect on him that Heather had hoped it would. Once on board the Northern Star, tantalized by ocean breezes and the vista of an endless sea, Matthew’s spirits had risen and the distractions of San Francisco had continued to keep his depression at bay. But hope deserted Matthew as soon as he closed his eyes.
After Rachel’s passing, the worst time of day was the moment he settled in bed and closed his eyes. Darkness and the still of night provided no distractions from sad or morbid thoughts, and it was then that memories of Rachel overwhelmed Matthew. Now these visions were joined by a loop that replayed the blow Matthew had struck in Barbour’s yard, and Matthew was reminded that human beings could never travel back in time to change their fate.
A LITTLE AFTER TEN, MATTHEW opened the shutters, expecting to be greeted by San Francisco’s famous fog. Instead, the view was so clear that he could see the buildings on the wooded shore of Contra Costa across the bay. After dining, Orville went to the docks to meet with two executives from Gillette’s shipping company while Matthew explored the city. Then, shortly after three, Orville and Matthew walked to Montgomery Street, the favorite location of merchant counting houses, banks, insurance companies, and auction houses. Montgomery also boasted handsome shops and fashionable hotels that made it the Regent Street of the West and every bit as elegant as New York’s Broadway.
Their destination was Henry W. Halleck’s unique Montgomery Block, a four-story building with nearly 150 offices built in the newly fashionable Italianate style. People laughed at Halleck when he revealed his idea, not believing it possible that he would find tenants for so many offices, but the block was now a symbol of the city’s pride. It featured bronzed iron front doors framed by stone columns modeled on those of the Diocletian Baths in Rome. Each office had the novelty of gaslight and fireplace grates. An artesian well in the center courtyard provided water on each floor, and every window had iron shutters to protect against thieves and fire. The walls were solid brick.
All these features were enthusiastically pointed out by Harold Denton, Orville’s Harvard classmate, as he led Orville and Matthew from the reception area to his office. Denton was short and rotund, with a paunch, sparkling green eyes, and a cheery disposition. His hair was bright red and his goatee and mustache stood out against his pale, baby-smooth skin. Being the only redheads in their law school class had drawn the men together, and fierce intellects and fiercer attitudes about social justice had cemented the friendship.
When they were seated, Matthew listened stoically as the friends brought each other up to date about their lives since leaving Cambridge. Finally, Orville got down to business.
“Tell me all you know about Bernard Hoxie,” he said.
Denton’s smile disappeared. “You watch yourself with Hoxie, Orville. He’s a dangerous lowlife. When he’s not representing whores and thieves, he prowls the bars looking for destitute seamen he can con into bringing spurious lawsuits against shipowners. And he’ll do anything for money, or find someone who can do it for him.”
Orville flashed an i
ndulgent smile. “I think you’re being overly concerned, Harold. Mr. Hoxie is an attorney-at-law, a member of our profession. I’m in San Francisco to discuss a legal matter with him, not to judge his clientele.”
“Bernard Hoxie is not just an attorney,” Denton warned. “Have you heard of Shanghai Kelly or Mother Bronson?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
“Those scum run boardinghouses near the docks. They use women and liquor to lure seamen into them. Then they drug their victims and sell them to shipmasters in need of a crew. Hoxie is a silent partner of Kelly, Bronson, and others of their ilk. The whores at his saloon steer these poor wretches to the boardinghouses, and Hoxie takes his cut of the sale of each piece of human cargo without ever dirtying his hands. And that isn’t the only criminal enterprise in which he is involved.”
“I assure you that I do not intend to take up with any ladies of the night,” Orville said to humor his friend. “Now, where can we find Mr. Hoxie?”
“You’re being naive, Orville,” Denton said. “You’re not at Harvard now. When you enter the Barbary Coast, you’ll be leaving civilization behind. Lawyers like you rely overmuch on reason. Men like Hoxie are not reasonable. They are predators, and their thought processes are more akin to sharks than philosophers.”
“I appreciate your concern, but there are millions at stake here, and I have a limited time in your city.”
Denton sighed. “Hoxie’s office is in the Dancing Bear saloon on Davis.”
Orville pulled out his pocket watch and opened the face cover.
“It’s after five, Matthew. We’d better be going,” he said.
Denton looked aghast. “Surely you’re not venturing into the Barbary Coast at night. Why don’t you have dinner with me and go in the morning?”
“We can dine tomorrow, but I must see Hoxie as soon as possible.”
“May I make a suggestion,” Matthew said. Orville and Denton turned toward him. “I can tell by your tone, Orville, that you aren’t taking Mr. Denton’s warnings seriously, but I do. Men like Hoxie are not to be taken lightly. Let me go to Hoxie’s place of business and reconnoiter while you dine. If all goes well, we can return to his office in the light of day.”
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