Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  “I was out on deck. It was quite breezy.”

  “Humph!” Elfreda lay down and turned her back. “Don’t forget to blow the candle out.”

  Letty undressed, blew out the candle and crawled into bed, head bursting with thoughts of her evening with Garth. She hadn’t fooled Elfreda, though. Why did she even try?

  * * * *

  After the miserable voyage in steerage to Chagres and the horrors of crossing the Isthmus, Letty couldn’t imagine she’d find the last leg of her journey to San Francisco enjoyable, much less downright blissful, but it was. She spent time with Garth every day, always for meals in the dining room, of course, but often they’d stroll around the upper deck together. Sometimes they visited the lower deck where they mingled with the gold seekers and enjoyed listening to their stories. Although they all looked unkempt in their scraggly beards and scruffy clothes, these men were far from being all ruffians and lowlifes. She met doctors, barristers—even a priest or two. They didn’t seem to mind sleeping on deck and eating their barely-edible meals from a bucket. She had only to think of Charles to understand why these men endured their hardships without complaint, so eager were they to reach California.

  One evening after dinner, most of the first class passengers gathered in the lounge where Mrs. Frieda Bachmeir volunteered to entertain them on the piano with heavy-handed renditions of “Old Folks at Home” and “Farewell Old Cottage.” When she finished, someone asked, “Does anybody else play?”

  Letty’s pulse quickened. She hadn’t touched a keyboard since Boston but always loved to entertain. She didn’t want to make herself conspicuous, though.

  Garth, who sat beside her, leaned over and whispered, “Didn’t you say you play piano?”

  That was all she needed. She stood and announced, “I’d be happy to.”

  A delighted titter ran through her small audience as she walked to the piano. This was a friendly crowd, hungry for any kind of entertainment. Even if she made a mistake, they wouldn’t mind. She sat down at the keyboard. What song? Ah yes, Charles’s favorite, “Annie Laurie.” When she started to play, she feared she might be a bit rusty, but her fingers knew exactly what to do. She ran through a chorus with ease, almost as if she’d been practicing every day. At the end, she decided to repeat it, and this time… The beautiful words cried to be heard, and she couldn’t resist. Her soprano voice rang loud and clear.

  “Maxwelton’s braes are bonnie,

  Where early falls the dew,

  ‘Twas there that Annie Laurie

  Gave me her promise true…”

  When she finished, the polite applause she expected didn’t happen. Only a long silence followed. Oh, dear, she must have been awful. Then Phineas Strauss leaped to his feet, shouted “Bravo!” and started pounding his palms together hard as he could. Everyone got to their feet, applauding wildly, emitting loud whistles, shouting bravo! Even Mrs. Frieda Bachmeir, she of the arrogant stare, was applauding energetically.

  To the audience’s delight, she sang two more songs before declining to sing more.

  Mr. Strauss cornered her before she left and gave her his card. “You sing beautifully, my dear. If you ever want a job in my saloons, let me know. I’d be delighted to have you.”

  She thanked him politely, flattered beyond measure. This whole evening had bolstered her spirits no end. How flattering that Phineas Strauss liked her voice. Nothing would come of his offer, though. How highly unlikely that she, featured soloist in the Boston Presbyterian Church choir, would ever end up singing in a bawdy, gold mining town saloon?

  * * * *

  The weather remained warm and pleasant. The ship maintained a steady course. When it stopped for water at Realejo, Nicaragua, the captain planned an all-day stay, but the eager gold seekers aboard had no interest in sightseeing. Endless riches awaited them, and they clamored for a speedy departure. The captain conceded to their pleas but explained that when the ship arrived at their next stop, Acapulco, they must take on coal, a task which would take the better part of the day.

  When they sailed into Acapulco Bay, Letty stood with Garth on the deck, gazing with awe at the towering mountains that surrounded the city on three sides, right up to the shoreline. “Those are the Sierra Madre del Sur Mountains,” Garth remarked. “A beautiful sight, don’t you agree? Would you like to go ashore?”

  Of course she would.

  The sun shone brightly on the sparkling water as they rode in the captain’s dingy to shore where Garth rented a carriage. She sat close beside him as he took her on a tour of the city and described its history. Did she know Acapulco was conquered by the Spaniard, Hernan Cortes, when the Aztec Empire fell in 1521? How the city was once a haven for pirates, including Sir Francis Drake?

  “How do you know so much?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Just interested in history.”

  With each new day, she discovered more reasons to love Garth Morgan. Not only was he handsome, witty and knowledgeable, he was considerate and compassionate. All that, and rich besides. Not that she wouldn’t love him if he didn’t have a penny.

  Except for that one night, she didn’t visit Garth’s cabin again.

  “We got away with it once,” Garth told her the next morning. “You know how tongues wag. I’ll not have your reputation sullied. Wait until San Francisco.”

  If not for her worry over Charles, Garth would be all she could think about. Those suspicions that he’d stolen her brother’s gold were forgotten. That she adored him, there could be no doubt. She loved being with him. He completely occupied her thoughts when they were apart. Wait until San Francisco? Gladly she’d wait. All would be well then. Garth would settle whatever problems he had, and—she hardly dared think it—he would propose. She would say yes, and then—a wave of happiness overcame her whenever she dared think of her wonderful future—they would get married, have a family and live in blissful happiness the rest of their lives.

  Wait until San Francisco.

  Chapter 15

  One morning a rousing cheer went up from the lower deck. After twenty-seven days, the Panama was approaching the Golden Gate. Along with everyone else, Letty rushed to the railing where Garth joined her. Together they watched as their ship sailed through the mile-wide entrance into the vast expanse of San Francisco Bay. He pointed to the stretch of hills on the right. “There’s the city.”

  San Francisco was larger than she’d expected. The well-laid-out streets were lined with every kind of building imaginable: two- and three-story brick buildings, neat-looking houses, adobe huts and flimsy shacks. Higher up, tents of all kinds dotted the hillsides. Directly beyond the shoreline, hundreds of ships lay packed together, their masts forming what resembled a forest of tall tree trunks without branches or leaves. “Are those the abandoned ships you told me about?”

  Garth nodded. “They’re not going to waste, though. See those tents on the hillsides? Most are made from the sails of those ships. I’d wager half the wood buildings in town were built in part from those old hulks, and that includes the Golden Phoenix.” He slanted a warm glance. “You’ll like my hotel, one of San Francisco’s finest, if I do say so. Did you know it’s got one of the biggest gambling saloons on Portsmouth Square?”

  He’d mentioned his saloons before, and she’d pretty much ignored him. She’d been taught gambling was a sin and knew she ought to express her disapproval, but how could she? She wasn’t about to condemn this wonderful man who’d made life so much easier for her. She’d dreaded making her way in San Francisco by herself. Now she needn’t worry. She had Garth to fend for her. “I’m sure I will love the Golden Phoenix, saloon and all.”

  They stood side by side, Letty wishing he could put his arm around her, but of course he couldn’t, not yet anyway. She’d hated keeping their relationship strictly on a friendship basis, but judging from what he’d told her and the loving way he’d treated her, all that would soon change.

  Almost there. The closer th
e ship came to the dock, the more silent Garth became. Of course she knew what was troubling him. “Do you think he’ll be there?”

  “I’d wager Major Leffington will be waiting. Even if he’s not, there’s no way I can avoid him. Sooner or later, he must be told.” Garth gave her a bleak, tight-lipped smile. “But you’re not to worry. When you leave the ship, go with Mathew. He’ll find my carriage and driver. I’m not sure how long I’ll be before I can join you, but wait, and I’ll be there soon as I can.”

  She longed to reach out and touch him, but every first-class passenger was out on deck, including the nosey Frieda Bachmeir. “It won’t be easy. How awful you must feel.”

  He gave her a look of reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  * * * *

  Letty had gone below. Garth stood by the railing until tugboats guided the Panama to the pier, the paddlewheels slowing until finally they stopped and dockworkers swarmed to tie ropes from the ship to the line of stanchions on shore. He scanned the crowd below. Ah, yes, he was right. Major Arnold Leffington, esteemed graduate of West Point, stood on the pier. Tall, trim, and stiff-postured in his impeccable uniform, he was staring at each debarking passenger, intent upon looking for his beloved wife to come down the gangplank and into his arms.

  With leaden feet, Garth left the ship and walked to where he was standing. “Major Leffington?”

  The major smiled. “Garth Morgan?”

  “That’s correct, sir. As you may recall, I’m an old friend of Honoria’s.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember you from our wedding. How kind of you to escort her all this way.” The major frowned and looked toward the ship. “And where is Honoria?”

  * * * *

  The scene was every bit as horrible as Garth expected, even worse. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget Leffington’s stunned disbelief, followed by shocked sorrow as Garth explained why his beloved wife would not be coming down the gangplank to greet him. And then the worst.

  “But she was so young. How did she die?”

  By the time Garth finished disclosing the ghastly facts of Honoria’s death, Leffington had run a gamut of emotions, ending with the inevitable anger. To be expected, of course. Garth stood silent while the major poured a torrent of outraged grief upon his head. That the willful woman had largely been responsible for her own death, there could be no doubt, but Garth would go to his grave before he said as much to Leffington.

  “She was in your care, Morgan. How could you have let such a thing happen?”

  Indeed, the ultimate responsibly was his, and he had failed. Now all he could do was stand here and humbly take Leffington’s verbal assault without protest, trying to offer an explanation that of course fell on deaf ears, repeating over and over how sorry he was that such a tragic mishap had occurred. Finally, a friend of Leffington’s came along. Eventually, the friend led the poor fellow away, leaving Garth alone on the pier, full of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing. But he must look to the future. From now on, he would be a better man—more compassionate, more understanding. Never would he be accused of conceit and arrogance again. From this moment forward, he would pull himself together and carry on. With a deep breath of determination, he looked toward the carriages parked at the end of the pier and found his own carriage and driver with Mathew, Letty, and her maid in the back waiting. Just the sight of Letty caused a spark of hope in his heavy heart. What a breath of fresh air she was on this dark day. He started toward the carriage.

  “Garth! Garth!”

  Lillian. Here she came, a whirl of velvet, satin, lace and sweet perfume, hurling herself into his arms.

  “Oh, darling, how I missed you. How wonderful to see you.”

  “Lillian.” He clasped her shoulders and thrust her to arm’s length. “You’re looking good.”

  “Just good?” She cocked her head, red curls bouncing, pearl earrings swinging. “Come with me, my darling.” She took his hand and started to tug him toward her nearby carriage. “I’m dying to get you home and to bed. Then I’ll show you how good I am, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Garth looked off in the distance to where Letty waited in the carriage. As he watched, the driver flicked his whip over the horses, and the carriage started away. Letty must have seen everything. For a second, he closed his eyes. “Oh, my God.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  After a morning like this? “Nothing’s wrong, Lillian, simply a few small annoyances.” As he watched over his mistress’s head, the carriage bearing the woman he loved disappeared from his sight. Small annoyances? Hardly an apt description for the events that had just occurred on this, the worst day of his life.

  * * * *

  Letty sat in the carriage, eagerly waiting for Garth to finish the dreaded task of speaking with Major Leffington. When he arrived, she’d do her best to ease the pain he must feel, although mere words would hardly be enough.

  “Here comes Mr. Morgan now,” Elfreda said.

  He was walking toward the carriage with his usual long strides, head up, shoulders back, yet something in the way he moved suggested he wasn’t his usual confident self. His meeting with Major Leffington must have been as bad as he expected, even worse. Letty watched as the beautiful red-headed woman who’d been waiting in the fancy carriage suddenly leaped to the ground, ran to Garth and threw herself into his arms.

  Who is that?

  Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back. They broke apart, and he held her at arm’s length, as if to fill his longing eyes with the sight of her. Now he was talking to her, no doubt describing his great joy at seeing her again. With a small gasp, Letty turned her head away and slumped back on the seat.

  Elfreda had seen everything. “Now, Miss Letty, you don’t know—”

  “What is there not to know?” The liar! What a fool she’d been. A combination of shock, hurt and anger boiled up inside her. “Come, Elfreda, we’re getting out of this carriage.”

  Mathew had seen everything, too. “Wait, Miss Tinsley. Uh… I’m sure Mr. Morgan can explain.”

  “I’ll not wait.” She wasn’t thinking clearly, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to get away. “We’ll find our own carriage and our own hotel.”

  “I can’t let you do that.” Mathew frowned. “Mr. Morgan wouldn’t want you to go off on your own. If you must find another hotel, at least let me drive you.”

  “How you going to find another carriage, Miss Letty?” Elfreda asked. “No use cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

  She was beyond listening to reasonable advice. “I won’t trouble Mr. Morgan any further. I’m sure he wants his carriage back.”

  Looking highly embarrassed, Mathew cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t worry on that score. Mr. Morgan’s…uh, friend, can give him a ride to his hotel.”

  Upset though she was, Letty saw the folly of unloading herself, Elfreda, and their luggage onto a strange pier, in a strange city where she had no idea where to go. “Can you take us to an inexpensive hotel? Any place but the Golden Phoenix.”

  “Of course.” Mathew signaled the driver. “Take us to the Franklin.” He turned to Letty. “It’s a decent hotel, and cheap.”

  “Thank you, Mathew.” The carriage started to roll. Her last glimpse of Garth found him staring after them. Her heart numb, she turned away.

  * * * *

  Tempestuous—passionate—brazen—enchanting. Only the strongest of adjectives could begin to describe Lillian Belmont. When Garth met her, she was a popular actress staring mostly in lugubrious melodramas. Her hourglass figure, red-headed beauty and powerful voice made her a favorite with the theater crowd. Lately she’d been turning down all offers, seeming content to be his mistress and nothing more. Now, facing her in his suite of rooms at the Golden Phoenix, Garth dreaded doing what he was about to do. He could only hope she’d find another benefactor and move on. Considering her mob of rich admirers, her only problem would be which one to c
hoose. But with volatile Lillian and her unpredictable impulses, you never knew. He was sorely tempted to postpone what could well turn into a physical confrontation, but no. In fairness to Lillian, this couldn’t wait.

  “Well?” She was waiting for him to speak, hand jammed on hip, giving him an indignant stare. “What’s wrong with you, Garth? You’re not yourself.”

  This was hard. Lillian and her fiery passion had given him hours of pleasure. She’d made him feel comfortable and content. She’d never said she loved him, but he knew she did, and doubtless was hoping for the day he’d come to his senses and declare his love for her. But she should have known that would never happen. Still… God, this was painful. “I have something to tell you.”

  Wary already, she cocked her head. “And what is that?”

  “I wish to end our relationship.” There, the words were out, like water down the drain, never to be retrieved.

  Only a slight startling of her eyes revealed how shocked she must be. “And may I ask why?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Lillian. All you have to do is crook your little finger and the men come running. You’re fond of me, I know, but you’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Her eyes held a lethal calmness.

  Only the truth would do. He could see that now. “If you must know, I’ve fallen in love.”

  “You?” She broke into scornful laughter. “The man who declared he could never love a woman? The man who swore he’d remain single until the day he died?”

  “Yes, that one.” Might as well tell her everything. She was going to find out anyway. “She comes from Boston. I met her on this last trip. Not only is she beautiful, she’s a remarkable woman. You can’t imagine the hardships she endured without complaint. She’s a joy to talk to, both witty and wise, and—”