by Debby Lee
“Without a chaperone?” Maggie teased, pushing her own sorrows aside. “According to Godey’s Lady’s Book, it is not proper etiquette for any unmarried woman to walk with a man unaccompanied.”
Her mother blushed then raised her chin. “I have God to watch over me.”
Maggie nodded, wondering where God was when someone broke into her shop. Of course, she had to be thankful she still had a shop. And glad she and her mother no longer needed to pay for a room in Esther’s hotel behind the bakery, no matter how pleasant it had been to smell fresh-baked bread each morning.
However, Obadiah Brewster’s sermon, no doubt inspired by the past few days’ events, filled her with remorse when he quoted from the Bible, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal….”
Was it her fault that Ben’s gold was stolen? The thief could not have known she hid the gold at the bottom of her window curtain. She supposed whoever it was had only intended to sabotage her business, and finding the gold had been a happy accident. And who would want to hurt her business more than that cranky old tailor, Eben Nash?
After the service, Esther invited Phillip to the bakery for a hot buttered biscuit. When asked if she would join them, Maggie declined. She found herself standing outside the tailor’s tent instead.
Did she dare go in?
“I’d bet anything he has Freethy’s gold stashed in there,” Mr. Kendrick said, coming up to stand beside her. “You know he had to be the one who sabotaged your shop.”
Maggie scowled. “I don’t have proof.”
“I don’t like that he hurt you, Miss McDermott. I don’t like that at all.” Mr. Kendrick clenched his fists. “I’ll search his tent and find the proof you need.”
As he stepped forward and lifted the front flap of the tent, Maggie grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back. “Hugh, no! You can’t!”
He paused to look back at her over his shoulder and grinned. “I like it when you call me Hugh.”
“Mr. Kendrick,” she said, careful to keep her voice low. “If Mr. Nash sees, he’ll think I put you up to it.”
“He broke into your place,” he countered.
“We do not repay vengeance with vengeance,” Maggie told him, and glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “It isn’t right.”
Unable to stop him, she watched Mr. Kendrick crawl halfway through the cream-colored canvas opening. He rustled around for a few moments, then came back out and gave her a pointed look. “Isn’t this yours?”
He held up the silver-plated thimble with the engraved hearts that her grandmother had given her, and she gasped. “I thought I’d never see this again!”
“Every man in camp has seen you use this while sewing,” Mr. Kendrick reminded her. “Every man in camp knows it’s yours. Yet here it is, in Nash’s tent. What do you think he will say to that when you hold it up at the camp council tonight?”
Maggie took the thimble from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Mr. Kendrick. I am indebted to you for your assistance in this matter.”
Mr. Kendrick gave her a warm smile. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
Had she misjudged him? Beneath that egotistical exterior, could it be that Hugh Kendrick was a nice person after all?
After he turned to leave, Maggie closed her fingers around the beloved thimble, and hugging it to her chest, she hurried off in the opposite direction before anyone could see them.
Ben heaved shovelful after shovelful of wet rock and riverbed sand onto the wood-framed wire-mesh sieve, his frustrations over the stolen gold and his inability to support a woman like Maggie driving him onward until midafternoon.
“Hold up!” Samuel scolded. “You’re not a steam engine.”
Ben gave him a quick glance, noticed his head was no longer bandaged and the gash above his brow had scabbed since the day before. His left forearm was supported by a white linen sling that hung down from his neck. “If I just work harder—”
“Then what?” Samuel asked. “You’ll have more money? What if I told you there was a better way?”
“Does it involve going into that river cave you found?” Ben demanded. “The one that fell in on you?”
“I saw gold, Ben. And if we don’t go in and get it, you can bet that someone else will. As soon as I’m well, I’m going back in with a select group of men. You can be one of them.”
Ben dug his shovel into the riverbed once again. “I thought Esther had you on bed rest. You know you shouldn’t be out here.”
“Neither should you.” Samuel frowned. “Thought you were meeting Maggie.”
“Miss McDermott?” Ben kept his eyes focused on the river. “I only invited her to sit with me at the church service because I thought we might have a future together. That future slipped away the moment I lost my gold.”
“Did you ever stop working long enough to pray about it?” Samuel challenged.
No. I didn’t.
“I can talk to God right here, if I want to,” Ben replied. “Although I doubt He’s listening.”
“Why do you say that?”
Ben looked up. “Because life shouldn’t be this hard.”
“Says who?” Samuel asked, lifting a brow. “The Bible has a quote from Jesus Himself that says, ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation.’ It’s the afterlife that’s promised to be trouble free. Not these days we live in.”
An explosion split the air behind them, and Ben froze. “Dynamite?”
Samuel scowled and stomped his foot. “I think that’s why part of the cave fell down on my head. Kendrick’s blasting is getting too close.”
Ben threw down his shovel and walked over to where he could see the man and shouted, “Kendrick! Enough is enough! Stop before anyone else is hurt.”
Kendrick and the eight men with him stared at Ben a moment, and then Kendrick grinned. “If you’re upset because you haven’t found any gold today, you’re welcome to join us.”
“No thank you,” Ben muttered. Turning back around, he retrieved his shovel, took another quick glance at Samuel, and walked away.
Ben showed up early for the camp council by the fire pit in the center of Gold Bar that night. Maggie did as well, looking as lovely as ever, with a sparkle reflected in her beautiful blue eyes that he had not seen in several days. Not since before her shop was broken into. Did she hope tonight’s council would restore justice?
He too hoped to initiate action to discover who had broken into her shop and stolen his gold; however, past councils had taught him that votes could be bought, which left him fidgeting with the thin metal horse bit he’d taken from his tent to show Phillip. The mouthpiece was all he had left from the harness of the horse he used to ride at his aunt’s ranch in his youth. Now each time he looked at the tarnished souvenir, he saw visions of his future horse ranch. With Phillip, and … Maggie.
If only he could find enough gold.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t join you for the church service this morning,” he said, keeping himself a good three feet away from her.
“I am sure you had better things to do,” Maggie said, lifting her chin. “Phillip was kind enough to keep me company, and afterward I had the pleasure of conversing with Mr. Kendrick.”
“Kendrick? What did he want?”
Maggie smiled. “To help me.”
Ben wanted to ask, “Help you how?” However, there was no time. The other residents of the Gold Bar camp had arrived, and the council meeting was called to order by Pastor Brewster.
“As everyone is now aware,” the pastor said, scanning the circle of faces, “Benjamin Freethy had a good-sized piece of gold stolen out of Miss McDermott’s shop last night. The steel latch on the door was broken off, her sewing materials and linens were destroyed, and the place was littered with cake crumbs and rats. Anyone here know anything about that?”
“My clothes were in that shop,” Willis Cogsgrove grumbled. “I had a sleeve that needed mending. Now I’m g
oing to need a whole new shirt!”
“You shouldn’t have trusted her,” Eben Nash declared. “You should have come to me.”
Ben narrowed his gaze. “I believe Miss McDermott has promised to replace all items that were destroyed free of charge.”
“That’s right,” Maggie agreed. “And this next month, anyone who places a new order with me will receive a 10 percent discount on one of Mrs. Watkins’s meat pies.”
The tailor glanced at Esther, who was nodding. “This is mutiny!” he exclaimed. “Before long, Gold Bar will be overrun by women and their foolish enterprises. We men have to stick together, or next thing you know, they’ll all want to have the right to speak in public and—God forbid—maybe even vote!”
“Miss McDermott has every right to speak at tonight’s council, since she is involved in this incident,” Ben told him.
“And because I think I can prove who is responsible for both breaking into my shop and stealing Mr. Freethy’s gold,” Maggie said, and held her silver-plated thimble high in the air. “Everyone knows this is my thimble, characterized by the scrollwork and engraved hearts. I keep it on a shelf in my shop with my sewing supplies. Yet this afternoon, it was recovered from Eben Nash’s tent.”
“What were you doing in my tent?” Nash growled.
“It wasn’t her,” Hugh Kendrick countered. “It was me.”
Ben stiffened, and his gaze darted toward Maggie. Leaning toward her, he whispered, “Since when have you and Kendrick been working together?”
“Since you’ve become too busy,” Maggie whispered back.
Ouch. Ben knew he probably deserved that for standing her up at the church service that morning, but her retort still stung.
Hugh stepped forward, commanding everyone’s attention. “Eben Nash has been jealous of Miss McDermott’s business ever since she arrived. He must be losing money. That’s probably why he broke in and stole the gold.”
“It wasn’t me,” Nash said, scowling at the others around the campfire. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Explain where you got the thimble,” Ben challenged.
“I never touched it,” Nash exclaimed. “It must have been Hugh. He planted it in my tent and only pretended to find it.”
“Careful with your accusations,” Pastor Brewster scolded.
Nash waved the warning aside with a sweep of his hand and continued, “Hugh is the one who’s jealous. He set me up so he could act as Miss McDermott’s defender and steal her away from Ben!”
Ben tended to believe the tailor was telling the truth. The question was what did Maggie believe. He heard her gasp, and her fair cheeks turned a rosy pink even though the sun had dipped below the tree line. However, she didn’t look at him.
“Are you certain the damage wasn’t done by the rats?” Pastor Brewster asked, lifting his brows.
Ben shook his head. “I have yet to see one steal gold. I think we should vote to search every tent and dwelling in Gold Bar to see who is the real thief.”
Pastor Brewster looked at the crowd and asked, “Shall we have a vote?”
The men glanced around at each other nervously, and only Samuel, Tom Green, and a few others agreed by putting up their hands. Certainly not the majority Ben needed.
“Searching the camp is not practical,” Hugh told him. “After all, we’ve all found gold in various amounts. How can you prove which hunk of gold is yours?”
Ben hated that Hugh was right.
He also hated to see the look of hope dashed from Maggie’s fair face. He should have warned her that there was a slim chance for justice in this place.
Turning from her sympathetic gaze, he vowed to send a letter to the authorities in Sacramento—to emphasize Gold Bar’s need for a sheriff.
Chapter 7
Maggie sat at her sewing table and angrily stabbed her needle into the thick velvet. Ben’s heart had not been in his apology. Not showing up at the church service on Sunday was rude, and since the council later that night, he had remained distant. She understood how disappointed he must be over the loss of his gold. Maybe he felt it was her fault, thought she should have chosen a safer place than the hem of a curtain to stash his newly found fortune.
A whole week had passed, and instead of the amused gleam she often saw in the looks he gave her, all she saw now was regret. Perhaps he found that he wasn’t “enamored” with her after all. Maybe she was foolish to hope there might be a relationship of a more romantic nature between them.
One thing was certain. She shouldn’t be wasting time pining after Ben when her finances were under assault. Since the camp council, orders for mending and new clothes had dropped off significantly. Perhaps whoever had sabotaged her shop had also threatened the men trying to win her hand and told them to back off.
Maggie sighed. What would happen if business continued to decline? Should she lower her prices?
And if business did recover, would she have to keep sewing forever? What of marriage? Would she ever have children of her own? A family?
As her mother entered her seamstress shop, Maggie’s hand slipped while stitching the velvet waistcoat and she pricked her finger with the needle. “Ow!”
“Are you all right?” her mother asked, laying her shawl aside and sitting at the table beside her.
Maggie nodded and sucked on the tip of her finger. The sharp stainless-steel needle had drawn blood. And it hurt. Almost as much as her heart. Lifting her eyes to keep tears from spilling over her cheeks, she whispered, “Always look for the positive in every situation, and thank the good Lord that things are not worse.”
Her mother patted her arm. “Although I am sad that Cousin Lewis is gone, I am thankful we came to Gold Bar.”
Surprised, Maggie frowned. “You are?”
Her mother nodded as she removed a pair of spectacles from a small leather case and put them on. “I am also thankful that I will now be able to see to help you with all the sewing.”
“Where did you get those?” Maggie asked, staring at the delicate gold and glass spectacles perched on her mother’s nose.
“They were a gift from Ben.” Her mother smiled. “They belonged to his late sister. When I told him how bad I felt that I could not see well enough to help you sew and recoup some of our loss from the break-in, he and our young Phillip both agreed I should now have them. Phillip said, ‘Especially if it helps Maggie.’ I think that boy would do anything for you.”
Maggie smiled in return. “I will have to thank him.”
Her mother gave her a coy look, as if withholding a secret, then burst into a smile and announced, “There is one more thing I can thank our good Lord for. Dr. Harrington has proposed! He got down on one knee as we were walking together just this morning. He had the sweetest smile upon his face as he asked me to be his wife.”
Maggie dropped her sewing and gasped. “What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Are you certain this is what you want?” Maggie leaned forward. “You aren’t accepting because of the decrease in our finances, are you? I thought you said that you would never marry again, that marriage was for the young.”
Her mother laughed, and the new spectacles magnified the shine in her glistening eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. And no, my acceptance has nothing to do with finances, although I suppose I am thankful I will no longer be a burden.”
Maggie wrapped her in a hug. “You were never a burden.”
“Oh Maggie,” her mother crooned, nearly breathless. “He is such a kind, considerate man. He tells me jokes to make me laugh, and I haven’t had much to laugh about in a long time. We’ll marry next month as soon as you can sew me a proper wedding dress. Dr. Harrington said he would pay for all the materials and, of course, your service.”
“We’ll have to put in an order for silk, satin, and lace from San Francisco right away!” Maggie gushed, catching some of her excitement. “Oh Mother, it is good to see you so happy.”
“I wish the same for you, Maggie
. Do not give up hope. I was wrong to think you should marry Lewis Parnell or any man you do not truly love.”
“What’s this about love?” Esther asked, bustling into the shop behind Agnes.
“Mother’s getting married!” Maggie said. “To Dr. Harrington.”
“Congratulations, Clara!” Esther exclaimed, her round face beaming.
“Haven’t been to a wedding in quite some time,” Agnes said, and dropped the clothing in her arms on the table next to the hotel-room sheets Esther carried in. “We brought you some mending. Figured you might need the work.”
Maggie nodded. “I do. Although I daresay you two have already done more than enough to help my mother and me.”
“Much to Eben Nash’s disapproval, we ladies need to stick together,” Esther teased, then pointed to the new item Maggie had started working on. “What is that you’re sewing?”
Maggie held up the thick, double-paneled rectangular piece. “It’s a saddle blanket. For Phillip. Until he gets a horse of his own, I thought he could use it on Tom Green’s horse during his riding lessons.”
Agnes leaned closer. “Why are you tying knots in the cording?”
“It helps strengthen the threading. Especially on the edges,” Maggie explained.
Her mother nodded. “In Ireland we call them ‘love knots.’”
“They look like hearts,” Esther mused. “Hearts sewn with love. You have certainly ‘sown’ love into the heart of that young boy, as well as into the hearts of most of the other men in this camp.”
Maggie lowered her gaze. “I wish I could sow some love into Benjamin Freethy’s heart.” She placed the saddle blanket back down on the table and searched the other women’s sympathetic faces. “Why won’t he propose?”
Esther and Agnes sat down in the two chairs opposite Maggie and her mother, and Esther leaned forward and gave her a conspiratorial look. “Well, all I know is what my dear husband Samuel has told me, but it seems Ben has a code of honor that he just won’t break. He’s said time and time again that he won’t marry until he has enough money to properly support a family.”