by Janet Fox
Kula Baker is not a thief. But someone else surely was.
My thought went to Jameson, that sneaky devil. But . . . as sly as he might be, I couldn’t imagine he would steal from Miss Everts.
My problems were multiplying like rabbits. I had to save my father with or without his box, and now without the help of Miss Everts. I had to deal with Wilkie. I had to protect Yue. And then there was that puzzling connection between my father, the Hendersons, and Miss Everts. And between Will Henderson and David. And now a skulking Jameson stealing silver from Miss Everts?
Miss Everts. She spoke in riddles, never giving me a clear answer. I don’t know why I expected an answer from her still, considering how she must be in cahoots with Wilkie. Yet I couldn’t seem to reconcile her as one with a rotten heart, as one who also trafficked in evil. And then, as if on cue, I heard voices approaching in the hallway. I stood near the partly open door to hear.
Miss Everts: “Detestable business. What now?”
Mumbling; from Jameson, I presumed.
“How on earth? When?”
More mumbling.
“What about Mei Lien?”
“ . . .”
“We must act swiftly then. Roddy, you’ll have to go.” Jameson had a first name. And Miss Everts used it, familiarly.
“ . . .”
“Please. I’m a tough old bird. It’s Kula I’m thinking about.”
“ . . .”
“I insist. Now, where is she?”
I quick stepped back across the room and pretended to be engrossed in a book chosen at random.
Miss Everts came in and walked straight to me. “Mr. Gable would like you to sit for him again.” She fell down into the chair next to the fireplace, her skirts bunching up in a heap.
“All right.”
She drew one hand across her eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go.” Her free hand waved at the door, and I caught in her expression something I had not seen before. Such sadness. It radiated in waves. A moment’s pity ran through me. “Miss Everts—”
“Go!”
I went.
Mr. Gable’s courtly manners were endearing and his studio pleasant. But this time he made a request of me.
“Now, not to offend you, my dear. I should like you to loosen your hair. And sit with this draped about you.” He held up a large, heavy, coarse wool blanket.
His request didn’t bother me, I was so preoccupied with other thoughts. I let my hair down; it fell into the long braid that I had made to pull it together. I threw the blanket around my shoulders. “Like this?”
He twisted the pencils in his hands. “Not quite. May I?” I nodded.
Mr. Gable took my hair and shook it completely loose, and pulled it about my face, catching it and lifting it until it made unsightly knots. “Now, if you don’t mind, and please don’t take this the wrong way, I should like you to bare your shoulders.”
I knew he meant no harm, and there was trust between us. I went behind a screen and removed my shirtwaist and chemise and wrapped myself modestly in the blanket.
“Perfect.” He beamed.
He sketched for almost an hour before he spoke again. “I’m making you one of the centerpieces of this panel. You brought my attention to something, Miss Baker. I’ve spent the last days in parts of this city that I’d ignored, even though I’ve lived here most of my life.”
I wasn’t supposed to move, but I couldn’t help shifting my shoulders.
“Ah! Wait! A little to the left . . . your chin . . . there. That’s perfect. There. I was saying . . . I find that terrible things have been happening here, right under our noses, and little has been done.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“I’m sorry for that. No young woman should have to see these things.”
“You’re wrong.”
He stopped drawing. “Please?”
“Isn’t that why you’re drawing this now? Drawing me in this state? So that others will see what they’ve been blindly ignoring?”
Sebastian Gable placed his pencil on the table and rubbed his eyes.
“There are other girls who should be sitting here, not me. Not me, getting paid for this.”
“It’s respectable work, Miss Baker.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I clenched my fist. “What you are doing is most wonderful. I meant something else. I came to San Francisco looking for one thing. I wanted to save my family. Now . . .” My eyes welled. “There’s such despicable behavior, all around us. So much sadness, so many others. I didn’t expect . . .”
He lifted his eyes to me. “Kula, please don’t move. Please.” And he began to draw on a new sheet like a madman.
So I let my lip tremble and let those tears roll down my cheeks, and I didn’t try to stop them or rub them away or think them sober or anything. I let the tears come until my bare shoulders were shaking up and down, and poor Mr. Gable had to stop and fetch me a cup of tea and a large white handkerchief. And even then I wept, for there were so many souls for whom I had to shed tears.
When it came time to leave, I didn’t bother to pin up my hair, but only combed it and pulled it into a ribbon at my neck. And I kissed Sebastian Gable on both cheeks, and hugged him as if he were my uncle.
I arrived home only to see that a carriage sat at the curb before Miss Everts’s house, a carriage bearing the crest of a dragon, tongue darting in flame.
Will waited in the drawing room. Waited for me.
“The auto is in repair. But would you like to take a drive? The sunset is worth the slow pace. And I can still manage a horse.” He laughed, then paused. “What have you done with your hair? But”—and he reached for a long curl that had found its way over my shoulder—“it’s most lovely. Like you.”
I waved him away. “Will. Please.” I was too drained to put up with his pretty words.
“Please what, Kula?” His voice sounded hard. It surprised me.
“I’m sorry. I’m awfully tired.” And, I realized, probably without a bed to myself, since my unexpected guest was still hidden in my room.
“I can’t imagine why. You don’t want to see me? What have you been up to?” The playfulness had returned, but his charms were not working on me this evening.
“I didn’t say that.”
Will lifted his hand again, this time to tug at my belt. It was a familiar, possessive gesture, and it bothered me. “Now, Kula. I’ve come out of my way to entertain you.”
I put my hand over his, met his eyes. “Please don’t.”
“Well. Fine then.” My perfect easy Will turned stony. I could not let him go like this, not if I ever wanted to get him back. And he was all I had left.
“No. You don’t understand.”
For a moment, all things hung in balance. Will eyed me, lips pursed. I swung on the end of his finger, where he’d wrapped it through my belt loop. Then he burst into one of his incandescent smiles.
“Tomorrow, then.”
I nodded, forcing a smile in return.
And before I could resist, Will pulled me close and kissed me firmly on the lips, one of his hands finding my waist, the other my loose hair, so intimate I was shocked, and further shocked that I let myself drift into his embrace and let him kiss me, all desire.
“Tomorrow.” His voice was soft, and he left me standing in the middle of the room on wobbly legs.
I climbed the stairs to my room, trying to steady my heart, my mind.
Yue was awake, and Mei Lien was attempting to detangle the rat’s nest of her hair. I sat on the floor with them.
“After this, she needs a bath.” I wrinkled my nose as I plucked a louse from Yue’s scalp and pinched it between my fingers. “And we have to get rid of these.” I groomed Yue gently, swallowing my grief so I could see my task; and every nit I picked I crushed with a vengeance, thinking of Wilkie.
In the night, as I slept curled in my stuffed chair, my eyes found the painting on the wall, illuminated by moonlight. Yes. That was the key—
that relationship between the families, between Baker and Henderson and Everts. Will knew more than he’d let on. Dragon symbols, and the brotherhood, and imports, and his father . . . the question of where to find the key to these interlocked secrets, I had to hope, could be answered by Will.
Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
April 16, 1906
“Tradition and location unparalleled, beautiful surroundings, the
splendid beaches of the Pacific Ocean, and the famous marine
wonder of Seal Rocks, on which hundreds of sea lions have found
a congenial roosting place, make the northwestern point of our
peninsula . . . one of the most popular, attractive, and interesting
points in the immediate vicinity of San Francisco.”
—Charles Bundschu, Merchants’ Association Review, April 1902
WHEN WILL ARRIVED THE NEXT MORNING, I WAS READY to leave with him right away. I didn’t want either Miss Everts or Jameson hovering. I needed to be alone with him, for more than one reason.
“I have plans today to drive you all over the peninsula,” he said. He leaned close to my ear as we walked out the door. “So much nicer without our chaperone, eh?”
Our chaperone: David. I turned my head away, bit my lip. David was gone. And I needed Will, and I also needed his answers to my questions.
Will’s automobile was waiting for us, repaired, and so there was no possibility of conversation until we reached our destination. The weather had warmed considerably after the rainy cold spell, and Will had removed the bonnet from the top of the auto. He gave me a scarf to tie over my hat and handed me a long coat—a duster—to keep my clothes clean. We drove west to the ocean.
The ocean!
We stopped once for a bit of view, shaded by chaparral. Will spun me around to face him and smiled his melting smile. Everything in me said: Kula Baker, don’t be a fool; but his angled features, perfect chin, soft eyes sucked me in, and common sense left me. I let him kiss me again, even though I knew I was being stupid. I didn’t feel for him the way I felt for David. And there was something about Will, something not nice about how quickly that smile went from dazzling to mean, that bothered me. But his lips on mine felt so lovely that I let him kiss me on and on, his soft lips on mine.
The passing of other tourists and the fact that we were so obvious tugged me out of my reverie. I was grateful that we were out in public, if only to save me from myself. At last, Will helped me back into the automobile; heaven knows I needed the help.
Will drove all the way west to the Cliff House, to show me that magnificent structure and the rocky promontory on which it sat above the golden sands. Cliff House was all turrets and arches and balconies. We took lunch at a table by a window, and I had no eye for the food: I wanted to watch the waves and sea lions below. The sparkling sea with its foaming breakers. The gulls floating as if suspended.
Yet this brilliant day—with its rich salt smells and softly thundering waves, and with Will’s constant attentions, his fingers playing with mine—was clouded by my worries. I had to open the last door between us, get everything out in the open. I had to uncover what he knew because I needed his help. Time was running out for my father. And I needed to be sure about Will and his feelings for me. It wasn’t until we were strolling along the sand, after he’d kissed me yet again, as he tossed rocks out into the water, that I ventured my question to him.
“What do you know about the connection between your family and the Everts . . . and mine? Henderson and Everts and Baker, and the brotherhood?”
Will’s rock sailed out over the waves, splashing far out. He shielded his eyes and looked at the blue Pacific. “What should I know about that?”
“In the past, our grandfathers, or great-grandfathers, were friends. And I think that seal, your seal, with the dragon had to do with it. We’re all connected. Isn’t that something?”
He bent for another rock, and hurled it even farther out. “That’s something.”
“Listen, Will. I need you to listen. The reason I came to San Francisco. My father . . . he owns a box with important things in it. He said it was here, and he asked me to come and find it. But it’s been lost. I must find it. It’s . . . it’s life and death.”
“You’ve told me this already.” Will weighed a rock in his palm, turning it in his fingers. “You told me about the box at the party. Your father’s an outlaw, and you need some box he had. Your father, Nat Baker, a most wanted man.”
The wind was knocked clean out of me. I’d been so foolish at that party, how could I have been so careless as to have told him all of my secrets? I had told him about the box. I had told him my father was an outlaw.
But I was convinced I’d never told him my pa’s name.
“How—how do you know about my pa?” My voice trembled. Had Will had been lying to me? He knew about Pa. What else did he know?
Will threw the rock, hitting an outcropping out in the surf. “Kula, I know all about the box. I know all about you. About your little pretense. Artist’s model? I don’t think so.” Will’s smile vanished, replaced by a chiseled, cold expression. He did not look directly at me. “Why are you ruining our nice day with these questions? Why ruin everything?”
“I’m ruining everything?” I tried to keep my voice light.
“Leave it alone, Kula, and we can still be friends.”
“Will, I can’t leave this alone. This is why I’m here. My father’s life is at stake.”
He sighed, an exasperated sigh. “I know. Fine. You’ve already spoiled it. All right. Yes, I know all about the box, and I also know Josiah Wilkie. There, are you happy?”
My legs buckled, as if they would collapse under me. I reached out my hand to him, my hand grasping at the air between us. “You know Wilkie? He’s . . . he’s tried to hurt me, he’s framed my father—”
“Really.”
“Will.” I was practically pleading now. “Will, you asked about my name. We talked about your family crest, the dragon symbol. You knew everything all along?” I prayed he would be honest with me. I prayed he wasn’t deceiving me now. I prayed he hadn’t been deceiving me about his feelings for me.
He glanced at me and away again. “I think it’s time I took you back.”
“Will, please?” I put my hand on his arm. He pulled away. He turned and looked at me, and the hard stare he gave me was like a hand shoving me away.
“Your foolish questions spoiled it all. I was trying to keep you from finding out, so we could still have a good time. What did you think, Kula? Did you think I was going to marry you?”
Of course I had. I’d thought he cared for me. I’d thought he’d save me, save Pa. A heavy weight pressed on me. “I . . . I thought you liked me.”
“Liked you! Of course I liked you.” His eyes were cold, steely. “I still like you. Very much. But I could never marry someone like you.” He laughed, harsh. “It was fun. And you’re very pretty, lots of fun. But look at who I am. Look at who you are. I could never be serious about you. It doesn’t matter who your grandfather was. Your father’s a thief and you’re a maid! My father would never approve of you—you’re not suitable. You, and your father. You’re both—”
“Oh, Will. Stop.” I put my hand over my mouth. Now I understood. That day in the rain, at his house. He didn’t want his father to know he’d taken me in. His father wouldn’t approve of me.
“And that box of yours? That box belongs to my family. And I’ve got it now. Did you think that I’d give it to you or something? That I’d help you find it? No. Your father can’t have it. He’s a criminal—he killed a man. And I won’t let him ruin all my father’s work, just so he can—what? After all he’s done? What makes you think that I’d save your father from hanging?” He practically spit the words at me.
“You—You have the box.” I barely breathed the words.
“Of course I do. For goodness’ sake, Kula, you don’t think Wilkie would do this on his own, do you? Who do you think Wilkie wo
rks for?” Will’s voice shook as he spoke, and it was the only reason I didn’t fly into a rage and attack him there and then.
“Just what do you think is going on, Will?” I asked. “Do you really know what Wilkie does? What he’s done to others? How could you hire him, knowing all of that?”
“I know all I need to.” He walked away from me. “That box is for my father. And he’s proud of me for getting it for him.” Will stood with his back to me; I could sense the uncertainty that radiated from him, even as his words flew like daggers. “It was a mistake, spending this much time with you. At first I only did so because my father wanted me to keep an eye on you. And then it was easy. You’re so . . . entertaining. As long as you didn’t know anything, we could have fun.” His voice softened. “I didn’t expect . . .”
“What?” That he’d grown to care for me? “Will?”
“I’m taking you home.”
There was no hand-holding now. I hugged the passenger side, staring out the window, worrying that I would be sick, right there in Will’s automobile, for all the awful feelings rising inside me. I’d believed Will, trusted him. I gripped the door handle tighter, fighting the urge to shout angry words at him. My head throbbed, and my heart pounded. I was betrayed, and all alone.
Will did not see me to the door. For that, I was glad.
I went up to my room, where I found that Mei Lien paced and fretted and Yue wept silently. I wasn’t sure I could take anything more. I was near to broken.
I sighed. “What’s happened?”
“Wilkie. He came here. To the house.”
I began to tremble “He came here? Why?”
“He knows where we hide her. He knows she runs here.”
A fierce protective feeling for Mei Lien and Yue rose up in me. I had nothing left to fight for except these girls. Pa was as good as dead; my heart was turned to stone. I had no power over Will and his father. I’d lost David; I’d lost Will. The box was in Will’s hands, or by now his father’s—it made no difference. My future was a bare ruin. I had nothing left except to take my revenge on Wilkie for what he did—for what he was still doing—to these girls. “What did he do?”
