Ahead of me a man stood lounging on the narrow walkway, making it impossible for me to pass.
“Excuse me,” I said.
But the man, who had clearly been spending his oyster money on whiskey, simply leered at me.
I was forced to step onto the road, where I soon found myself ankle-deep in mud. After several boot-clogging steps, I passed the man and climbed back onto the walkway.
Farther down the muddy thoroughfare, I spied the gay bunting of Star’s Dry Goods, and beyond that the outline of the Frink Hotel.
Sootie bounded up the steps of Star’s in front of me, while Katy hovered behind.
“Boston Jane, what if the memelose girl is here?” Katy asked in a whisper. “Memeloses are very dangerous! They can hurt you because no one can see them.”
“We’ll be fine,” I assured her with more courage than I felt.
She eyed me warily.
A small brass bell attached to the door rang as we entered.
Star’s Dry Goods was a jumble of goods stacked floor to ceiling. There were harness fittings, bird seed, molasses, nails, flour, tea, coffee, and even umbrellas—the most practical item in the store, considering the amount of rain Shoalwater Bay received. The huge barrel of molasses sat alongside a barrel of hard cider and one of vinegar. Glass jars filled with candy waited hopefully for small children to sample their wares. In addition to the standard store items, Mr. Staroselsky’s wife ordered goods that were appreciated by the ladies. There was a very nice assortment of fabrics, as well as sewing needles, ribbon, buttons, hosiery, cotton yarns, and combs. It was all arranged in a haphazard fashion that only Mr. Staroselsky seemed to know how to navigate.
In the back of the room, several men sat in captain’s chairs around the small potbellied stove. It was a favorite place to exchange gossip.
“Hello, Jane,” Mrs. Staroselsky called from behind the counter.
Mrs. Staroselsky, a vibrant young woman with a tumble of thick, black curly hair, could often be seen making deliveries around town for her husband. She had a brand-new baby named Rose, who was presently in her arms and making quite a fuss.
Sootie pushed in front of me to the counter. “Boston Jane is going to buy us some of the new fabric for our dolls!”
“For new dresses!” Katy added.
“Well, aren’t you girls lucky,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, smiling at me over Sootie’s head. “I saw Jehu with an enormous wagon of luggage. New arrivals?”
Jehu acted as the pilot for the bay, guiding ships in through the shoals and helping them unload their goods.
“Yes,” I said. “From Philadelphia.”
“How wonderful for you to have folks here from back home,” Mrs. Staroselsky said.
I bit my lip.
“Can I hold the baby?” Sootie asked, scrambling up to peer at the whimpering baby in Mrs. Staroselsky’s arms.
“You may,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, passing her the restless bundle. “Perhaps you can calm her down. She’s been crying for days.”
I nodded sympathetically.
“Look, she’s not crying anymore!” Sootie said in a hushed voice as she carefully rocked the baby. “She likes me!”
And indeed, Rose was staring up at Sootie’s face with something approaching wonder.
Mrs. Staroselsky and I smiled over the girls’ heads.
“Maybe you should keep Rose for a while, Sootie,” Mrs. Staroselsky said with a wink.
I left Sootie and Katy at Star’s, minding the baby, and continued down Front Street toward the Frink Hotel, passing one of the local taverns, which doubled as a bowling alley.
The tavern was situated inside an abandoned Chinook lodge, and shouting and revelry could be heard there until all hours of the night. Men seemed to lose all good sense when whiskey was involved, and there was a great deal of whiskey available on Shoalwater Bay, thanks to Red Charley. Red Charley had grown rich in his whiskey dealings and liked to go about town with a woolen sock full of gold coins tied to his belt. The whiskey-dealing devil himself was lolling outside the bowling alley on an empty barrel as I walked by.
“Lookee there,” Red Charley chortled. “It’s Jane Peck! When’re you gonna get rid of that sailor fella, huh?”
Red Charley was referring to Jehu, who was a seasoned sailor and captain. He had been first mate on the Lady Luck, the ship that had brought me to Shoalwater Bay.
Red Charley turned to the filthy prospecting fellow lazing next to him and said, “I keep telling her I’ll marry her! What does Jehu got that I don’t?” He followed his question with a belch. “I sure am a lot more handsome.”
I raised an eyebrow at this. With his huge belly, red cheeks, and terrible disposition, Red Charley was hardly a young lady’s dream.
“How’s he going to support you puttering around in that wee boat?” another man shouted.
“How do ya know he hasn’t got a wife in some other port? Now, an oysterman like me’ll stay put,” a man with a missing tooth assured me with a lopsided smile.
“He ain’t worth love,” Red Chancy cackled. “The only thing worth that kind of hankering is Old Rye!”
“Good day,” I said firmly, and continued on, dragging my now muddy skirts behind me.
Farther down the street I arrived at the Frink Hotel. Outside it stood a horse-drawn wagon piled high with trunks, and helping to unload the wagon was the dark-haired sailor Red Charley had been talking about.
“Jehu!” I called happily.
He turned to me, his eyes lighting up, his smile tugging at my heart. He was so handsome, with his shock of curly black hair, his blue eyes, the scar that ran jaggedly along his cheek.
“Jane,” he said.
At that moment the door to the hotel opened and Sally Biddle appeared, wearing a rose silk dress and a smug expression.
“Why, if it isn’t Jane Peck! What a marvelous coincidence!” Sally trilled, her gold curls shining in the sun.
Jehu grinned at me, setting down the trunk he was carrying. “It’ll be good to have an old friend out here, won’t it, Jane?”
I had never spoken to Jehu of Sally Biddle. In truth, I had hoped to forget her completely.
“Yes, Jane. I was just telling Mr. Scudder what great friends we were in Philadelphia,” Sally said sweetly, the very model of a kind girlfriend, her gaze lingering just a moment too long on Jehu’s handsome features. “We had such wonderful times together, didn’t we?”
I saw the look in Sally’s eyes daring me to contradict her, and my stomach roiled. Katy was right to have warned me. Sally Biddle was just as dangerous as any memelose—and no one but me could see her true self. I felt my face go cold, my skin prickle with sweat.
“Jane,” Sally said, her eyes mock-solicitous. “Are you feeling well? You look rather … drawn.”
“Jane?” Jehu asked, concern in his voice.
But I couldn’t answer. I turned and fled up the stairs of the hotel to my room.
This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2002 by Jennifer L. Holm
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by HarperCollins Children’s Books, a division of HarperCollins Publishers, New York, in 2002.
Yearling and the jumping horse design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Holm, Jennifer L.
Boston Jane : wilderness days / by Jennifer L. Holm. — 1st trade pbk. ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: Boston Jane: an adventure.
Sequel: Boston Jane: the claim.
Summary: Far from her native Philadelphia, Miss Jane Peck continues to prove that she is more than an etiquette-schooled graduate of Miss Hepplewhite’s Young Ladies Academy as she braves the untamed wilderness of Washington Territory in the mid 1850s.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89400-8
[1. Frontier and pioneer life—Washington (State)—Fiction. 2. Washington Territory—History—19th century—Fiction. 3. Etiquette—Fiction. 4. Orphans—Fiction. 5. Chinook Indians—Fiction. 6. Indians of North America—Washington (State)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H732226Bs 2010
[Fic]—dc22
2009005107
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