Chapter Sixteen
Saturday afternoon, January 17, 1880
"The genial weather and extensive programme drew a crowd to Woodward's Gardens yesterday." ––San Francisco Chronicle, 1880
“Please, Sis, can we go ride the camels?” Ian dragged at Kathleen’s hand.
“No you can’t. Nasty, dirty animals. I heard they spit on you if you get too close,” his sister said. “Oh, Patrick, do you see that peacock there? How untidy he looks dragging all those great long feathers behind in the dust.” Patrick McGee just smiled down at the diminutive maid, and Laura could tell he was more interested in gazing at Kathleen Hennessey than he was in seeing the sights around him.
The trip on the horsecar to Mission and 14th Street had been crowded, as Mrs. O’Rourke had predicted, and it had taken them nearly twenty minutes to make it through the entrance gate at Woodward’s Gardens, at which point the boys asked if they could go straight through the 14th Street tunnel to the zoo. Laura had visited the extensive grounds created out of the Woodward estate several times before with Nate, but, as befitted a respectable, mature young lady, she had strolled sedately arm-in-arm with her brother through the flower conservatory and art museum housed in the main building. Seeing the animals in the zoological gardens sounded like a lot more fun, so she had gladly seconded the boys’ choice.
Holding determinedly on to Jamie’s hand, Laura now stared in astonishment at the three camels being led around their pen, small children and adult men and women clinging to their backs. She had seen illustrations of camels all her life, a staple in illustrated Bible stories and in her geography textbooks. In fact, she had just taken her seventh-graders through a discussion of the differences between the Arabian camel, or dromedary, with its single hump, and the rarer Bactrian camels with their distinctive two humps. But to see them this close up was extraordinary. For some reason, she had thought them much taller than a horse, but at least these specimens, definitely dromedaries, looked to be less than sixteen hands high. Their eyes, however, were very different from a horse. They seemed huge, with long lashes that looked like they had been lined with kohl. And the smell! There was a distinctive astringent odor that was more overpowering than the usual manure and urine aroma she associated with livestock. As one of the laden camels was led over to the section of the fence where Jamie and she were standing, it opened its mobile mouth wide, revealing a formidable set of crooked teeth, and she pulled Jamie back a few steps, remembering Kathleen’s comments about spitting.
“Miss Laura, did you see how long its tongue is?” Jamie exclaimed. “I heard they can spit green slime near four feet. What’s that noise they’re making?”
Laura cocked her head and tried to distinguish the sound he was referring to from the assorted noises made by the crowds milling around them. Finally, she pinpointed a low rumble that seemed to be coming from the camels.
“Why Jamie,” she said, laughing, “they appear to be grumbling like some old curmudgeons. I suppose that walking around and around in a circle with a bunch of squealing humans on their backs might be beneath their dignity. Hattie always…”
The sadness slammed into her, taking her breath away. Laura had never realized how often she thought or said the words, “Hattie always.” Now, each time she did, she was reminded that she would never hear Hattie say anything, ever again, and her grief overwhelmed her. She’d gone over and over her conversation with Hattie when she’d visited her at the Mission Street boarding house and Hattie’s last words at the hospital, looking for clues to her friend’s state of mind, trying to make sense of everything.
At least she now understood why Hattie had looked ill last Saturday, and her pregnancy explained why she was marrying so precipitously, giving up her plans for a future career. A child would change everything. But what Laura couldn’t decide was whether Hattie had been happy. She’d said she was. She’d seemed genuinely excited about her plans to marry, but maybe she was just putting on a brave face. Oh, why hadn’t she confided in Laura about the pregnancy? Had she been too ashamed? If only that dratted man hadn’t come and interrupted them. Russell…how she hated him. He had ruined everything, ruined Hattie.
“Miss Laura, what’s wrong? Do you want to move further back?” Jamie’s brown eyes were looking up at her worriedly, and Laura realized she had been squeezing his hand too tightly.
“I’m fine, but look, Ian is moving on to the next pen.” Laura pointed down the path. “Go ahead and catch up to him.”
Laura followed slowly behind on the path as Jamie wove deftly around a group of three fashionably dressed young women. She knew it was kindness that had motivated Kathleen to invite her to come with them today, probably prompted by Annie, but she wished she had refused. It felt sacrilegious to be gadding about in company just three days after Hattie’s death. Hattie’s parents were probably already on the train back to Santa Barbara with their daughter’s body. She hadn’t known where they’d stayed last night, so she wasn’t able to give them her condolences in person.
My goodness! Laura’s thoughts were diverted when the three young women in front of her scattered, squealing, as an ostrich strode majestically across their path. The bird was huge, its long neck towering over the girls, but its head and beak looked absurdly tiny in comparison to the large, round, feathered body. The eyes, and the sinuous neck, reminded her of the camels she had just been staring at, and she wondered if there was something about the desert geography that would account for these similarities. A good question to ask her students. Maybe I can take the whole class to the Gardens. I wonder how much that would cost?
She turned and watched as the odd bird walked slowly down a path with a sign pointing to the reptile house. Seeing that Kathleen and Patrick and the two boys were looking into the monkey cage some ways away, she began to walk more quickly. She had promised to give Kathleen and Patrick a little time alone, and she thought she would offer to take the boys over to one of the lemonade vendors she could see up ahead. Get her mind back on more pleasant things…she was sure that had been everyone’s intent in having her come.
Annie told her that first night that, over time, her grief would become less acute. That she would even be able to be happy, and that was all right, that Hattie would have wanted that for her. She knew rationally this was true. But when she found momentary relief, in teaching, or today watching the boys having fun, she felt worse, if that were possible. She’d also found herself avoiding Annie, retiring to her own bedroom right after supper, hustling out the front door in the mornings to wait for Barbara and Jamie on the front porch. With everyone else, she was able to keep up the role she had decided to play…the brave but cheerful girl soldiering on in the face of her sadness. But when she saw the concern in Annie’s expression, all her control began to unravel, and she wanted to throw herself into her arms and howl. No, Annie was too dangerous to her equanimity. She had to be avoided until Laura knew what she needed to do next…until she needed Annie’s help in exposing Russell for the seducer he was.
Laura paused when she reached the path the ostrich had taken. The cross-flow of people was too dense to move through easily. The sun was directly hitting her face, her hat’s up-curled brim doing nothing to shade her eyes, and she wished she hadn’t worn her brown wool cloak and her winter-weight undergarments. She should welcome the warmth after days of rain and drizzle, but her head ached and her heavy jean corset was creating a band of fire around her waist that was making breathing difficult.
“Miss Dawson, excuse me, but…”
Laura let out a small cry and stepped hastily back from the man who’d stepped in front of her. Not just any man, but Seth Timmons, her former classmate.
“Mr. Timmons, how did you…I mean, whatever are you doing here?”
Laura’s heart was beating so fast she thought she might faint. All her suspicions that he might be the man who grabbed her in the alley came back at the sight of him. She’d told herself he was safely miles away finishing up his classes at San Jo
se Normal School, but here he stood in front of her, blocking out the sun with his imposing height and wide shoulders. Tall, taller even than Nate, he wore the long, narrow frock coat that always struck her as funereal, and his white shirt was the only part of his outfit that wasn’t black, producing an over-all somber impression. Even in winter, his complexion was the color of tanned leather, as if he spent all of his days outdoors, and the double curve of his dark mustache was echoed by deep creases in his cheeks. But it was his deep-set grey eyes that always disconcerted her the most.
He took off his Stetson, smoothed back his black hair peppered with white, and said politely, “Miss Dawson, I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. I read a short notice in the paper this morning that a Miss Wilks had passed, and I just had to…I was sure you’d know. Was it our Miss Wilks?”
“Yes, yes it was. She fell down the steps in her boarding house on Wednesday. She died later that night at St. Mary’s.”
Laura stopped speaking, knowing she sounded cold-hearted, but she just didn’t know what else to say, and the “our Miss Wilks” had angered her. What did he mean, claiming Hattie that way? Recognizing the note of anguish in Seth Timmons’ deep voice, she wondered, not for the first time, just what Hattie had been to him besides his math and science tutor. When he had started coming out to visit Laura last fall, she had thought he might be doing so because he hoped she would have news of Hattie. Yet, as the months went on and the news she had from Hattie grew less detailed, he didn’t stop visiting. Now she didn’t know what to think.
He turned his hat in his hands and shifted restlessly, saying, “Miss Dawson, you have my sincerest condolences. How did it happen? Did you get a chance to see her before…she…”
“Yes. Yes, I was with her when she died. Look, Mr. Timmons, I am here with friends. I really can’t talk to you right now.” Laura was finding it very difficult to maintain her composure and desperately needed to get away from his penetrating stare. She started to move to go around him.
“No, please don’t go yet.” He stepped sideways, blocking her passage. “I know this must be terrible for you, but I…”
Laura snapped, “I don’t need your condolences. Why are you even here in San Francisco? Shouldn’t you be finishing up your classes?”
“I left. I needed to start making some money. I got a position at the last minute at Pine and Larkin Primary. But that is beside the point. I needed to speak to you about Hat…Miss Wilks.”
“But how did you find me?” she interrupted. “Did you follow me here?”
Seth looked startled and said, “I came here because I hoped to speak with you. When I read the notice in the paper, I went to your boarding house. I had just gotten there when I saw you leave with your friends, so I followed you, looking for a chance…”
“How did you know where I lived, Mr. Timmons, and why have you been following me? I keep seeing you everywhere I go. Was it you who grabbed me in the alley? No, I don’t even want to know. Just go. I never want to see you again.”
Laura realized that her voice had risen nearly to the level of a shout and that people around her had started to stare, so she again tried to push past Seth, who reached out and detained her by grasping her arm above her elbow.
“What do you mean grabbed you?" Seth’s voice was so quiet she could barely make out his words. "What are you talking about? Someone attacked you? When?”
He had pulled her close, and Laura looked down at where his bare hand wrapped around her arm. She said, her voice shaking with anger, “Take your hands off of me before I scream. Then you can explain to Patrolman McGee, one of my companions over by the monkey cage, just why you are assaulting me.”
Laura saw Seth’s square jaw clench, his eyes darken. Then he backed away from her, his hands raised palm out. He said, “Miss Dawson, my apologies. I have no excuse for my behavior, beyond my distress over the tragic news about Miss Wilks. I have not been following you. In fact, it was Miss Wilks herself who informed me of your address. I’m sorry to hear that someone has tried to do you harm. I can only assure you it wasn’t me. However, I will respect your wishes and not impose upon you further.”
With a tip of his hat, Seth Timmons strode away and was almost instantly swallowed up by the crowd, leaving Laura all alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday evening, January 17, 1880
"The Plymouth Pilgrims - We learn that the 2500 Yankee prisoners, captured by General Hoke's forces at Plymouth, left Wilmington last night, and may be expected to pass through Charleston this evening, on their way to the Prison Depot at Americus, Ga." ––Charleston Mercury, April 26, 1864
When Kathleen opened the door, she gave him her usual smile, then whispered, “Mr. Dawson, if you would step into the small parlor, Miss Laura and Mrs. Fuller are expecting you. Miss Minnie and Miss Millie, you see, are currently using the formal parlor.”
Nate, taking off his hat and gloves and handing them over to her, said equally quietly, “Thank you, Miss Kathleen. How thoughtful.”
He was finding it easier to withstand the double assault of Miss Minnie’s loquaciousness and Miss Millie’s odd silence when they decided to chaperone his visits with Annie, but tonight he would have found an hour of being polite to the elderly seamstresses quite trying. He went quickly through the door to the room where Annie, as Madam Sibyl, saw her clients. His sister and Annie were sitting side by side in two chairs that had been drawn next to the fireplace. He was struck by the contrasts between the two of them. Annie, with the red tints glinting in her blonde hair and her pale skin and soft curves, shared only the brown of her eyes with his tall, lean, dark-haired sister.
But, damn, they both look so beautiful in the firelight. Beautiful but tired. He dragged a third chair over and said, “I am glad to find you both together. Laura, I hope Annie explained I would have come earlier, but I am in the middle of a case that is taking up my every spare minute.” He wanted to gather her into his arms the way he did when she was a little girl, but instead he reached out and took her hands between his.
“Of course, I am glad you are finally getting some trial work,” she replied, giving his hands a squeeze, then pulling away to wrap her arms around her waist as if cold. “Annie has been taking excellent care of me. Everyone has. I know you were worried, and I am sorry I made such a fuss.”
“And I have assured her that she has nothing to apologize for,” said Annie. “But she has had a bit of excitement today. Do tell your brother what happened this afternoon.”
Laura started off describing how she had been persuaded to go with Kathleen, Patrick McGee, and the two boys to Woodward’s Gardens, and he could tell she was stalling when she started describing the camels they had seen, but he let her take her time. At least she wasn’t weeping, although her eyes seemed sunken in her face, and he knew their mother would be worried if she saw how thin her daughter had become. Now that he thought about it, she had already lost some weight when he saw her at Christmas.
“…then Seth Timmons appeared out of nowhere. Remember when I asked you about those Union soldiers who were called Plymouth Pilgrims?” asked Laura, her voice rising, a sign to Nate that she was getting to the point of her story. “The ones who ended up in Andersonville prison?”
“Yes, Annie mentioned that Mr. Timmons was a classmate of yours at San Jose and that he visited you a few times when you were teaching at Cupertino Creek school,” he answered.
“It was more than a few times. It was almost every weekend. I thought at first it was because my school was conveniently located on the road he took to get into the Santa Cruz foothills to the west. Hattie always…well, she had mentioned that he often went camping there. I thought he did this to get away from the rest of us. I think he felt more at ease with the male professors who were also veterans.”
“But now you think there was more to his visits with you?”
Laura took a deep breath and looked at Annie, as if for courage, and then she said, “I started to wonder if
maybe he was…sweet on me or something. I didn’t know why he would be. I never encouraged him. When we met outside of classes, well, he made me feel uncomfortable. He was…is…so intense. I never knew what to say to him, and anyway, I thought it was Hattie that he…well, it was clear he respected her greatly. Me, he just sort of ignored. I don’t think he said two words to me before this September.”
“But this changed?” Nate asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
“Well, he didn’t suddenly become talkative. Beyond offering to take me home on Friday afternoons or asking if I would like to take a ride the next day, he didn’t say much. I did most of the talking, usually about my students or commenting on the landscape. He must have been bored silly. But I was glad to escape from the homes I was staying in and to avoid Buck Morrison, so I kept going on buggy rides with him. Annie told you about Buck?”
“The young man in your school who made…unwanted overtures?” Nate winced at how stilted he sounded. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his little sister.
“He was a bully, plain and simple, Nate. I don’t think he cared a bit for me. He just liked making me squirm.”
“And you told Annie that Mr. Timmons and Buck had some sort of altercation?”
“Yes. Buck was clever at looking as good as gold as soon as there was someone else around, but Mr. Timmons must have picked up that there was something wrong. When he asked if Buck was bothering me, I told him I could handle my students. But he started coming a little earlier on Fridays so that he was waiting for me when I dismissed the rest of the students, including Buck. Buck asked me once if Mr. Timmons was my beau, and I’m afraid I didn’t disabuse him of the notion. While he didn’t stop pestering me during the week, he was more circumspect after Mr. Timmons started stopping by. He seemed intimidated by him.”
Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery Page 12
