Sins of the Mothers (Texas Romance Series Book 4)

by Caryl McAdoo

  The old man snorted. “See? This is what I have to put up with all day.”

  Jethro had a remedy for that, but not many folks wanted partners. “I understand you know of an honest able-bodied boy or two willing to work for wages, Virgil. Don’t need any full-grown men just yet.”

  The boy held his tongue, but when the old man didn’t speak up, he stepped forward. “I’ve got a kid brother and a cousin in need of a steady job. What are you paying?”

  “What are they worth?”

  “When enough ships came in, they’d get a dollar a day on the docks. But most times no one hires them.”

  “Old enough to be leaving their mother?”

  “My cousin ain’t got one, and ours is back east. The three of us come west together, hunting the mother lode.”

  Same as Jethro, except he’d found it. He pulled out two silver dollars and tossed them to the kid. Have them here… He looked to the old man. “What time you start?”

  “Breakfast at seven.”

  “Have them here then, ready to go and be gone a month.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  He faced his old friend. “After you feed them, work them hard until I can get here, and if you’d be so kind as to gather up whatever you think Elijah and his two new hired hands might want.”

  “You not staying with them?”

  “No, I’m coming right back. Moses needs at least that much time to heal up proper.”

  “I supposed that’s the truth.”

  “And Lanelle and the baby probably shouldn’t be going anywhere just yet.”

  “Want to stay in my old place? Last man I rented to lit out same day word reached us about the big strike on the Snake.”

  “I heard you and the Misses were staying here with Mary.” Seemed perfect. “We’ll take it. Your shop, too.”

  The boy’s jaw dropped. “You ain’t even going to ask him how much?”

  Jethro faced the kid. He liked the young’un, but he did have a mouth on him. “Virgil Wingate hasn’t ever cheated anyone, and he’s not about to start with me.”

  He left the ex-barber and his apprentice to it and finished his inspection. Found Mary at her desk working on a ledger. She looked up as he approached and gave him a little smile. Like a sledge to the temple it struck him.

  At Miss Ling’s, Meiko had been jealous. That’s what he’d seen in her eyes.

  The young lady’s goodness and intelligence shown so bright, the harlot couldn’t compare. But instead of purity, a sensual appeal, a promise of unimaginable pleasure. Many a man fell under her spell, obsessed with her.

  Desire drove more than a few beyond the pale.

  Mary promised nothing, but so desirable grown men acted like schoolboys. Wanted her to wife and bear their children. Main trouble there, the little Texas beauty had no need of any of them.

  Maybe, she and Meiko were different sides of the same gold coin.

  Her smile vanished. “Something wrong, Mister Risen?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jethro eased closer. He loved the sound of her voice. “No, ma’am. Not at all, only admiring our store. You have transformed the place.” He took another step. “You got here after the last fire, right?”

  “Yes, sir. John had rebuilt some, but was working out of a big tent when we arrived.”

  “Do you mind me asking your age, Mary?”

  “No, not at all.”

  He waited, but she never said, then the corner of her lips turned up slightly. He grinned. “How old are you then?”

  “Eighteen, just turned.”

  “Makes it even more remarkable.”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you knew my father.”

  “He a shopkeeper, too?”

  She laughed. “No, Henry Buckmeyer is like…” She shook her head, her mouth continued to smile, but her eyes held a sadness that made him want to hug her until her pain eased. “Well, you’d have to meet him to understand. But suffice it to say, I learned from the best.”

  “He back in Texas?”

  “Maybe. Should be by now. He and his new bride took my three little sisters to Europe; don’t know for certain if they’ve returned home yet.”

  Something behind him turned the young lady’s head. He glanced over his shoulder. Lanelle walked toward her holding a baby. “Mary, can you come, please?”

  “Excuse me, Mister Risen. It would seem I’m needed.”

  “Of course.” He stepped back and let the lady by. A slight hint of rose tickled his soul as she swept past him. He stood there a minute wondering exactly what had just happened. Then decided he didn’t know exactly.

  But what he knew full well was he hated her leaving. He shook it off then hunted down Virgil and got the keys to his new home. The old barbershop remained as he remembered. A raised padded chair, mirrors front and back, with a waiting bench next to the front window.

  The connecting three rooms, he’d never been in. Door off to the left opened to a nice-sized parlor that ran into a little kitchen with a bedroom off that. Back door led out to a small barn and free-standing privy. The barn had two stalls and room for the wagon.

  He returned to the Mercantile. Her new name for the establishment hadn’t grabbed him, but the lady was the boss there. He found Wingate working the boy in the storeroom. For a minute, neither noticed him.

  The old man had an easy way with his apprentice, but no surprise, he’d always liked the old barber.

  Virgil spotted him. “Oh, Jethro, you’re back. That didn’t take long. What’d you think?”

  “You looking to sell it?”

  “We’ve talked about it, but rather liked the idea of a regular income.”

  “How about a trade then?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Jethro took him outside to the loading dock and laid out his idea. The boy didn’t need to know the man’s business. Mister Wingate seemed more than keen on it.

  “Of course, I’d have to talk it over with my partners. You visit with your misses, and if the notion still looks good after first blush, we’ll draw us up a contract and file it with the claims clerk.”

  “Oh, they’re changing things. The lawyers have got involved.”

  “How so?”

  “Statehood. Got to do it up right. We’ve got a county government now, and there’s even talk of disbanding the Vigilance Committee.”

  “Whatever we need to do. We’ll make it legal.”

  The old man stuck out his bent fingers. Jethro returned what the man gave.

  Soon enough, he had Lanelle and Jonesy back to Miss Ling’s. He leaned against the doorframe while she introduced his partner to the baby, then slipped out and found the healer.

  “Can I move him?”

  “Jones strong man. Not like you, you be dead.”

  Didn’t he know that all too well? And besides dead, he'd be burning in hell’s fire, too, if Moses had it right. He needed to go talk to the Methodist priest and see if he believed the same way. “So can I move him?”

  She shrugged. “Come, go…healing up to him now. He not need me anymore.”

  He dug in his pocket, about to hit bottom. A trip to the bank was in store. He retrieved his last Double Eagle. “This enough?”

  She took it, tested it with her eyes and teeth, then stuck it in her smock and smiled. “Too much.”

  Of course it was, but… He turned away.

  “Meiko come by.”

  He looked back. “She did?”

  The old woman raised her bony shoulders then seemed to melt down a good six inches. “She told me to ask you if you’d come to the Dragon. She wants to talk.” Miss Ling relayed her message without any accent.

  He didn’t reply.

  She stood there a minute, opened her mouth as though she wanted to say more, then wheeled around and vanished, mumbling in Chinese.

  Before, he would have crawled back to her if she’d asked. Wouldn’t have been able to help himself. But now… No, he’d not go see her. Mei
ko had nothing he wanted.

  Once he had the boy, newly named Joshua Jethro Jones, returned to his wet nurse, and he helped Moses finish his steak dinner with all the fixings, he laid it down for hopefully the last time at Miss Ling’s.

  He dozed off thinking about the China Doll’s request.

  Then she was there, and he relived the happy afternoons spent with her before he’d found out. But instead of him following her that last evening to the Dragon, she floated off, calling his name. He ran toward her voice.

  Stuck in the middle of a muddy pit up to her neck, she begged for help, but he could not get to her. Ran as hard and fast as he could, but never got an inch closer.

  A hand shook his shoulder.

  Meiko stood beside his bed. “Jet, I’ve been missing you.”

  He reached but only fanned the air. Nothing. He sat up in the pitch black room. She wasn’t there, never had been.

  Didn’t even try to get back to sleep, just rose and dressed and shaved then walked the fifteen blocks to the Mercantile. He waited on the loading dock. The boys showed twenty minutes early.

  Good, he liked that.

  Mary couldn’t figure out what to think about mysterious Mister Risen, sweeping in, taking charge. Would it have been better to give the bankers their blood money and interest than to be in partnership with him?

  She appreciated his compliments, and he was definitely not hard to look at, but he certainly carried around a cock-sure attitude that…

  Well, she’d filed away the paper Elijah had signed, if Risen tried anything funny. But was that his play? Having the junior partner make the deal then saying he never agreed to it? Again, he’d seemed very well pleased.

  Who knew what the man thought?

  She’d be just as pleased if he got out of town and didn’t come back. She could send their share of the profits in trade goods.

  “More coffee, Miss Mary? Anyone?”

  She extended her cup. Mattie filled it and Risen’s, then put the pot back on the stove. A question pricked her tongue that she wanted to ask the man, but not in front of everyone. It would have to wait.

  If she’d heard right, he and the new boys planned on moving Moses to Virgil’s old place, then he was taking them on up to the mine, but that he wasn’t staying there.

  “You cut hair, Mister Risen?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I always thought that place would make a nice dress boutique. I can get readymade or any kind of fabric if you’re interested. Say the word, and I’ll place the order.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. We can talk about it when I get back.”

  There he went again, acting as though he was everyone’s boss. She gave him her I’m-so-sorry smile, the one she used on the miners when they got mushy. “Of course, it was only a thought.”

  One of the babies whimpered, then shortly Mattie called her away, not one minute too soon as far as she was concerned. Risen was so…

  No. She would think on good things, pure things, not pig-headed handsome men who thought that just because they’d found some gold, they could snap their fingers, and everyone would do their bidding.

  Nursing Susannah calmed her some, drawing every ounce of attention to loving that precious face. The baby always got Mary’s head and heart going right for the day. Having Lanelle close would….

  Though she hated to admit it—and would never out loud—a part of her wished her cousin would take her husband and go stay up on the mountain with Mister Risen. Mattie swapped babies. She got the boy going then rocked back.

  Lanelle had chosen Moses over Jonesy. She best get used to calling him by his real name, but Jonesy did have a nice ring to it. She fed him; that ought to entitle her to have a pet name for the boy.

  She could be his favorite aunt. No, he was Caleb’s son. Why couldn’t she be his mama? Raise him and Susannah as… No, too many folks knew they weren’t twins, and Lanelle was his mother.

  Mary had better just get used to it.

  “Miss Mary?”

  She looked up and smiled. “He’s almost done.”

  “Mister Clinton is asking for you.”

  “Oh. Good. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

  The old dear hurried out. What would she have done without the Wingates? Once little Joshua got his belly full and then some, she carried him upstairs and put him in the middle of her bed next to Susannah.

  She re-fixed the pillows all around then hurried down to see how she could be of assistance to Edward. What a strong name, Edward Clinton. Mary Clinton. Now that had a right nice ring.

  She had to stop that. She was a grieving widow.

  Or was she? Caleb Wheeler could not have loved her. Why, then, should she mourn him? Oh, Daddy, why must you always be so right? If only she had listened. What would the great Henry Buckmeyer think of Edward?

  She found him sitting at her desk, but instead of chiding him for being so rude, she smiled. “Good morning, Mister Clinton.”

  He stood. “That it is. I’ve been looking through some of your catalogs. Found several items I need you to order for me.”

  She slipped past him, but resisted putting her hand on his shoulder, and took her seat, still warm from him sitting in it. She retrieved a pencil, then pulled out her bottom drawer. The letter she’d started glared at her.

  Digging under it, she retrieved a clean sheet. “Tell me what and how many? Your wish is my command.”

  “Well, in that case.…” He stopped. She blushed; she knew she did. The warmth exploded in her cheeks, and all she could do was hope they weren’t as red as they were hot. Praise the good Lord, he let her off the hook. “I suppose I’ll take…” He rattled off half a dozen items then stopped again.

  She wrote the last. “Sounds like you’re building a house, are you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Up on Nob Hill. The carpenters started on it last week.”

  “Nob Hill you say? I’ve heard the views are spectacular up there.”

  “Oh, indeed. Would you care to come see for yourself one day? I go often to check on the progress.”

  “That would be lovely, but –”

  “Matter of fact, I’m going today if you can get away. Your company would be a pleasure.”

  Of course, she did. She’d love nothing more. But she couldn’t go, could she? Not with him and her being alone, wouldn’t be proper. Would it? “I’d love to, but maybe another time when the house is further along, and the babies not so needy.”

  “Babies, you had twins?”

  “No.” While he leaned on her desk, she told him about Moses almost dying. “So Miss Wingate and I have been seeing to little Joshua, and well, right this minute I need to stay close.”

  “I understand. Perhaps when my goods come in, you and Virgil could bring them up. Bring the babies, too.”

  Such a gentleman. Of course, he didn’t mean for her to come alone with him to a house on Nob Hill.

  “My father built us a house, not another I know of like it.”

  “Tell me more. What makes it so unusual?”

  Between the next four customers, she explained then sketched out exactly how he’d built it. Edward tapped the desk then pointed at her drawing. “I must take my leave. Should have gone an hour ago, but so glad I stayed. May I borrow your drawing, Miss Wheeler?”

  “Take it, it’s yours. And please call me Mary.”

  “If you’ll agree to Edward. And thank you, sweet lady. How soon do you suppose my goods will be in?”

  “I’ll post the order with my next shipment. Six or seven weeks if the weather holds.”

  “Need any money now?”

  She smiled. “All I can get.”

  He retrieved a leather wallet from his inside coat pocket and pulled out a fancy embossed card. “Present a bill to my banker, and he’ll transfer the funds.”

  She expected coins or at least green backs. She examined the card. Same bank she used, but she’d never dealt with the big gun himself.

  He walked backwards tow
ard the door. Appeared he wanted to stay as bad as she wanted him to. He stopped at the door, chuckled to himself, then turned and marched out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jethrohadn’t been able to hear much, but the pair’s longing looks told it all. Sure hadn’t taken the young widow long to get over Caleb Wheeler, not that the scoundrel deserved to be mourned. Still, only dead now, what? Six weeks?

  He turned and walked through the storeroom back to the dock. The boys had the wagon loaded and worked on getting the tarp in place. Good. He jumped down and walked around to the front of the Mercantile then strolled in.

  “Mister Risen.” She stood straightening her skirts as if not quite presentable. “Moses and Lanelle all settled in?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She asked if you’d be so kind as to bring Joshua for a visit if you had time after his dinner.”

  “I could manage that. We’ll bring them both.”

  “What about a bank?”

  “Are you needing one, sir? I assumed…” She closed her eyes briefly and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I use the National. Seems a good as any.”

  “No.” He grinned and shook his head. “The barber shop. I was thinking of starting a bank there. What’s your take?”

  She came around her desk, put both hands on the edge, then leaned back a bit.

  “I don’t much care for the bloodsuckers myself, but perhaps operating a more friendly establishment… One not out to steal every speck of gold dust they legally could, and ruin their holders. That might work. Wouldn’t you need a vault and armed guards and such?”

  “I was thinking of being strictly a miner’s bank. Might not work, but my father made a fortune banking.” And lost it gambling on Wall Street, but he’d been told nothing required a body to tell everything he knew.

  “A miners’ bank.” She nodded. “Interesting. How would it work?”

  “You ever grubstaked anyone?”

  “No, John and Caleb never wanted to throw our goods away like that. Why?”

  “Back east, they have different names for it, but it’s pretty much grubstaking. I believe if we’d be smart about it, make sure whoever we partner with has at least a decent chance of making a go of it.”