She wheeled and walked briskly toward the door. “I’m going to get my cloak and then go looking for Tom King. Are you coming or not?”
Taylor was so shocked he almost couldn’t make his feet move. She was so wrong about him that it was almost comical. He did not aspire to that kind of life, nor was he giving of his time and expertise to gain influence among the supporters of the orphanage.
Or was he? That notion brought him instant anguish. If there was even a slight chance that Sara Beth was right, he’d have to rethink his motives until he was certain they were pure.
In the meantime, he had to follow her no matter what she thought. She needed him. It was as simple as that.
Chapter Fourteen
Sara Beth was fighting to focus through her unshed tears. “I will not cry. I will not cry,” she insisted under her breath. The press of the crowd helped distract her. She didn’t know whether she was angry or sad or both. One thing was certain. She had been sorely disappointed in the one person she’d admired above all others.
Reaching the opposite side of Clay Street, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t any idea what Tom King looked like. She would have recognized his brother in an instant, but unless the younger man was the spitting image of James there was no way she could be sure which of the nearby men he might be.
Taylor arrived moments later.
“Do you see him?” she asked, taking great pains to avoid actually looking at the doctor.
“I think so. Follow me.”
As they weaved their way through the mass of people, Sara Beth let Taylor take the lead and shoulder a path, almost making the error of instinctively grabbing his hand to keep from being separated from him.
What a mistake that would be! The man already believed she was pursuing him and had made it crystal clear that he was not interested in her tender feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was to appear emotionally needy.
A roar was building. The crowd cheered. One quick glance told her that the first of the prisoners had just been hanged. He kicked for a few seconds before his body went limp.
Bitter gorge rose in Sara Beth’s throat. How could she have ever imagined that she’d want to witness such a horrid spectacle? A life had ended. The crowd should be mourning the possible loss of the killer’s eternal soul, not celebrating his death.
Taylor’s voice drew her back to the task at hand. “This is Tom King,” he said. “Tom, I’d like you to meet Miss Reese. She was acquainted with your late brother.”
Looking up at the taller man, Sara Beth was surprised at how young he seemed. She smiled as he tipped his hat. “How do you do, Mr. King?”
“Fine, thank you. Especially now,” the slim, sharply-dressed editor said, inclining his head toward the scene of the execution. “How may I help you, Miss Reese?”
She produced the letter she had written and solemnly handed it to him. “This will explain everything. Your brother had already broached the subject of the troubles connected with my home and family before his passing. I trust you will see how my dilemma coincides with the articles you have printed of late.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. If you have any questions, feel free to call upon me. I’m staying at the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society home on Franklin Street.”
The editor touched the brim of his hat with the folded letter. “I look forward to reading this,” he said.
Before she could respond, Taylor interrupted. “Don’t print your source, whatever you do.”
With a snort, Tom King shook his head. “No promises. I will write whatever seems best for my paper and for San Francisco.”
Sobering, Sara Beth laid her hand lightly on the man’s sleeve. “Do what you must. There are already evil forces set against me. God will be my refuge.”
“I trust He will,” King answered. “If you’re staying in town to watch the rest of this spectacle, perhaps we can talk more later.”
“Sorry, no,” she said firmly. “I’m not needed here and I have chores waiting at the orphanage.” Although that was not exactly true, she hoped the Lord would forgive her exaggeration. There were always jobs that needed doing at the home and she was adept at most of them. There would be plenty to keep her occupied. And by leaving, she would no longer have to face Taylor Hayward and see the rejection in his expression.
The way she viewed her situation, the less she had to do with the doctor from now on, the better.
In her deepest heart, however, she felt as if she herself had just died. Her spirit certainly had.
There was nothing more that Taylor could say. He’d already said far too much, and in the wrong way. The best thing to do at this point, he reasoned, was to let Sara Beth cool off before he tried to explain further.
“Do you want me to see you home?” he asked as they elbowed their way to the fringes of the throng.
“That will not be necessary.” Her chin jutted out and her lips were pressed into a thin line. “I managed to get here by myself. I can get home as well.”
“I’d offer to drive you, but my buggy is at the livery. I was afraid the horse might spook if there was a lot of shooting.”
“Do you think there will be?”
“Probably not now. Later, if the army tries to capture our headquarters, perhaps. That was why I didn’t want you to be there.”
“Of course.” Her voice was flat, almost expressionless, as if she was merely reciting words rather than feeling them.
“How will I know you’re safe if I don’t come along?”
“Suit yourself,” Sara Beth said. “If you believe you need to establish further proof that you were not involved in the lynching, then accompany me. I’m sure Mrs. McNeil will gladly vouch for your integrity.”
Taylor opened his mouth to refute her opinion of him, then closed it without speaking. When Sara Beth was in a mood like this there was little chance she’d be swayed by any explanation. Not that he knew what he should ultimately say. If he became too apologetic, she might think it was because he actually did want to court her. If he was too matter-of-fact, she’d assume he wasn’t fond of her at all.
Sadly, that would be a blatant untruth. He did care. More than he could put into words. And he did want to marry her despite everything. It was only for her sake and the sake of her brothers that he would hold his tongue and encourage her to look for a husband who was more able to give her the finer things in life, like a home and expensive clothes and maybe even her own town buggy. That was the kind of easy life Sara Beth deserved. The life of a lady.
Sighing, he stayed several paces behind as he followed her. The sway of her cape hid her from view, but his imagination still saw her as clearly as ever. Her reddish hair was silky as a kitten’s fur, her complexion clear and fair, her eyes bright like precious emeralds. The dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose was icing on the cake. She was, she was… Perfect, his thoughts insisted. Taylor didn’t argue. He knew it was true.
Okay, I love her, he finally admitted. And she hates me because she thinks I’m ashamed of her family. If she continued to believe that, perhaps she’d be more likely to seek a more suitable husband.
That notion stuck in his throat and left a bad taste in his mouth. Unless he or Sara Beth Reese left San Francisco and went somewhere where they’d never encounter each other again, he was liable to spend the rest of his life in agony. Every time they accidentally met on the street or, heaven forbid, she came to him for medical treatment, he’d suffer this sense of loss all over again.
There was only one honorable thing to do, one course to plot for himself. As soon as her estate was properly settled he’d board a steamer—any steamer—and leave the city.
Where he would go was unimportant. Escaping was the only way to cope. His heart insisted.
It wasn’t the trudge up the hill that had tired Sara Beth so much. It was the knowledge that Taylor Hayward had remained so close by the whole time—near enough to turn and touch.
She didn’t do
so, of course. She had her pride. And she had grown so weary of doing battle with her emotions she’d simply shut them down as best she could. That had left her worn and weary and dreadfully demoralized but it had still been better than weeping and throwing herself at the poor man the way she’d yearned to.
Unfortunately, now that he had taken his leave, she couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to complete any task. Clara had gotten so frustrated with her that she’d sent her out of the kitchen and told her to sweep the porches. Even that seemed beyond Sara Beth’s current capabilities. When she had turned to admire her efforts she had realized what a poor job she’d done.
“I can’t even wield a broom anymore,” she muttered, thoroughly disgusted with herself. “I hope my talent with a pen is better than my household skills these days.”
She’d wanted to linger downtown until the new editor had had a chance to look over her letter. If the doctor had not insisted on standing right there, she might have done so. However, since she’d had to struggle so hard to control her emotions in his presence, she had decided that heading home was the wisest choice. At least that way if she lost control and burst into tears, she’d be doing it where no one could see her suffering. Especially not Taylor.
Plopping into a chair on the porch, she released a sigh and waited for the tears to start flowing. They did not. Instead of weeping as she had expected, she simply felt empty, as if all her emotions had vanished into the fog that was now rising up from the bay. Soon the lush gardens would be shrouded in mist and the setting sun would be hidden. That kind of weather was the main reason why San Francisco remained so temperate year-round, and it suited her current mood perfectly.
Sara Beth felt as colorless as the dreary day, as cold as the fog in winter, as bereft as the mournful cries of the gulls. At this moment, she didn’t care about anything. Not herself, not her stolen estate, not anything. Her heart was as icy as the wind that was rising off the sea and chilling her to the bone.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and went back inside, determined to think about something uplifting. To seek out company.
The first person who came to mind was baby Josiah. She had made it a point to visit with him in the nursery as often as possible and show him plenty of love. In another year he’d be old enough to join the other boys in the regular wards and then it would be much easier for her to keep track of his welfare.
In another year? Sara Beth shivered. Would she still be living here then? Most likely. And although Mathias could also remain there with her, it would be past the time when Luke had to leave because he was too old. Poor Luke. What would become of him? How would he survive on the streets? And how, dear Lord, was she going to see that he grew into a fine man like Papa Robert?
Seeking solace, she decided to gather all her brothers and talk to them. The older ones would be comforted by her efforts on behalf of the family. And having them all together would be a mutual morale boost. At least she hoped it would.
“Are you sure the Reese boy understands what to do?” Bein asked. “We have to hurry. I’m expecting to be arrested any moment and once that happens I may not be able to pay you—or your men—easily.”
Scannell nodded. “It’s all set. When we get his signal it means he’s ready to open the door and let one of his so-called friends inside.”
“There won’t be any slipups? You’re certain?”
“Positive. I arranged for him to get involved with a local gang that listens to me. He trusts them.”
“Are they old enough to carry out your orders?”
“The young man I’m sending is. I have plenty on him already. He’ll do whatever I say because he knows he’ll rot in jail if he fails.”
“Even murder?” Bein was smirking.
“It won’t be his first killing,” Scannell replied with a wry chuckle. “That’s why I know he’ll cooperate.”
“All right. Then get it over with so I don’t have to worry about that irksome girl stirring up more trouble. I can handle everything else, just as I’ve planned, as long as there are no witnesses to testify against me.”
“What about Harazthy?”
“I plan to sacrifice him under the wheels of the ore wagon, so to speak. After all, he’s in charge of the mint operations and the late, lamented Robert Reese was his chief assayer. They can both take the blame.”
Bein paused and cursed under his breath. “I don’t care what I have to do. I am not going to prison.”
Taylor was surprised to find that the crowds had dispersed quickly after the hangings. He had expected more celebrating and violence. Down by the docks there was a rowdy atmosphere, of course, but that was normal.
He decided to end his usual evening patient rounds at Abe Warner’s Cobweb Palace. He didn’t often frequent that place, or any like it. It was information in the form of gossip that he sought and he was not disappointed.
“Yup, I heard plenty,” Abe said, grinning behind his silvery beard and mustache. “That Vigilance Committee is sure kickin’ up its heels.”
“I meant about the Reese family,” Taylor said. “What’s the word on the street regarding the investigation of theft from the mint?”
“Not much is new.” The old man tilted his trademark top hat back by poking the brim with one gnarled finger. “Government men are all over the city, snoopin’ into things that don’t concern ’em. You know how it is.”
“I’m afraid I do. Have they found any evidence besides those bits of scrap gold that were discovered at Reese’s place?”
“I’m thinkin’ yes. Leastwise, that’s how it looks to me. Last I heard, they were fixin’ to arrest his partner.”
That news made Taylor’s heart race and his breathing quicken. He grabbed the old man’s forearm. “William Bein? The man who’s trying to steal Sara Beth’s house?”
Abe chuckled and winked at his companion. “The very same. Now, suppose you tell me a few things.”
“Such as?” Taylor didn’t like the twinkle in the old man’s eyes or the lift of his mouth, especially since he assumed the amusement was a result of his questions.
“Such as, since when does a gentleman like you call a lady by her first name? What’s been goin’ on up at that orphanage, anyways?”
“Nothing illicit or immoral,” the doctor answered soberly. “I have, however, become far too attached to Miss Reese.”
“You could do worse. She’s a mite comely little thing. Smart, too.”
“I know.”
“Then why the long face? She turn you down?”
“No. There was no proposal to turn down. I’ve told her she’d be wise to find a suitable swain and marry well, for the sake of her brothers and her estate.”
“That why you’re so all-fired determined to get that house back for her?”
“That’s part of it, yes. The property is rightfully theirs and Bein’s claim to it is not honorable, even if it may be legal.”
“That still don’t explain why you ain’t interested in courtin’ her. Does she like you?”
“Apparently. We get along fine. That’s not the problem. There’s simply no way a man in my position can adequately provide for her and her brothers.” He made a derisive noise in his throat. “I’m lucky to collect enough fees to keep my office rent paid, let alone establish a home and start a family.”
“You tell her that, did you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“In so many words?”
Taylor shrugged and arched his eyebrows. “I don’t recall exactly what I said. I do know that she mistakenly assumed I was hesitant because of her father’s tarnished reputation.”
“Were you?”
“Of course not! I hadn’t even considered that until she got upset and brought it up.”
Abe began to laugh. “Sounds to me like a couple of children squabbling over a toy.”
“I hardly consider affairs of the heart to be childish,” Taylor countered. “I truly do care for her. I just refuse to saddle
her with a husband who cannot properly provide for her and her family.”
Sobering and getting a wistful look in his rheumy old eyes, Abe sighed audibly. “I had a gal once. A pretty one she was, too. Man, could she cook.”
“I didn’t know you’d ever been married.”
“I haven’t. That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. I wanted to sow my wild oats before I settled down, so I put to sea for a couple of years. When I came back, she’d got tired of waitin’ and married another man.” He gestured at the cluttered, crowded saloon. “Since then, it’s been just me and this place and my menagerie.”
“Surely you’ve had other opportunities to find a wife. This city has far more men than women, but still…”
“Never wanted any other gal,” Abe said flatly. “Once you’ve tasted a rare steak, you don’t want to settle for a pot of cold mush.”
That analogy struck Taylor funny. He chuckled. “Believe me, I’m simply trying to do what’s best for Miss Reese and her family.”
“Then tell her so and let her make up her own mind. Because if you don’t, you may never find another woman who takes your fancy the way that one has.”
In his heart, Taylor knew Abe was right. His conscience, however, put up such a strong fight that he was at a loss as to which course to take.
Finally, he left the Cobweb Palace and stood on the boardwalk outside, listening to the foghorns in the distance and peering, unseeing, into the mist that was rolling in off the bay like waves of seawater at high tide.
The musty salt air smelled of all the sundry things that made the wharf a successful business enterprise, including the garbage from numerous restaurants and the offal from the fishing boats moored nearby.
There was blurred movement within the mist from time to time. Groups of men talked or laughed or cursed as they passed by. Some revelers were already so drunk they could hardly stand. Others were sneaking around as if waiting to lift purses from hapless sots and pitch their victims off the docks into the drink if they dared resist.
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