Josiah's Treasure (14 page)

A smile flitted across her mouth. “You are judging based upon her surface characteristics and not attempting to understand what she is about at all. I expected more of you, Mr. Cady.” Miss Samuelson laid her fingers upon his sleeve. “Please go with us. If our efforts continue to seem pointless and overly optimistic after today, I will not bother you again.”

“I really am too busy . . .”

“Humor me.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “Because something tells me you need to have a cause and a purpose as much as Sarah does. And maybe, just maybe, you will even find the balm to heal your wounds.”

A
balm? There was no balm on earth that could heal the wounds on his soul.

Daniel almost said that, stepped right across the threshold of Josiah’s house out into the dull morning light, and turned his back to Charlotte Samuelson and Sarah Whittier. Why care, when caring brought pain? Why pretend that when you gave, anything good was ever returned?

But he didn’t say that. Through stupid curiosity if nothing else, he was already affixed to their cause like a butterfly on a pin.

“All right, Miss Samuelson. You have made your point.” Daniel inclined his head in defeat. “You win.”

She smiled, gently closed the front door, and went to the parlor, peering through. “Sarah, Mr. Cady has decided to go with us!”

The whispers came to an abrupt halt. Sarah turned in unison with the three others assembled in the room, her face paling to the color of whitewash.

“He
what
?” Sarah’s voice was sharp enough to slice metal.

Miss Samuelson laughed lightly while the young women—Sarah’s “girls,” though not a one looked much younger than her—stared at Daniel. “I know. It is a wonderful surprise, is it not? He has yet to visit Golden Gate Park. I thought this the perfect opportunity and he agreed.”

Sarah frowned first at her friend, then at Daniel. “Just perfect.”

His hat made a circuit through his fingers. “I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll just head on out—”

Miss Samuelson skittered sideways to block his departure. “You promised me, Mr. Cady,” she said between barely parted lips.

“I don’t recall making a promise, Miss Samuelson,” he murmured in return.

“I do, and you are not backing down.” She took his elbow and gestured to the girls. “Let me introduce you to the young ladies you have not yet met.”

He let her lead him around the parlor. There was Minnie Tobin, a bright-eyed young woman who curtsied, which he didn’t think necessary. Cora grinned at him. The remaining woman stood apart. Anne Cavendish was tall and thin with an intense and watchful manner. A fading purplish blotch shadowed the left side of her chin and a cool challenge stiffened the set of her shoulders. One brisk glance indicated what she thought of Daniel.

Sarah, still looking flustered, had turned her back to him. “Isn’t Phoebe coming?” she asked the girl named Minnie.

“She’s had to work extra hours at the cloak shop, Miss Sarah. And Emma couldn’t get away from the shirt factory.”

“What a pity. The picnic was Emma’s idea.”

“Maybe it would be more fun to go to Woodward’s Gardens than Golden Gate Park, Miss Sarah,” Cora offered, glancing at Daniel. “They’ve an aquarium there, Mr. Cady, and a zoo and acrobats and dancing bears.”

“Mr. Cady is no more interested in Woodward’s Gardens than I suspect he is in Golden Gate Park, Cora,” interrupted Sarah.

Miss Samuelson’s brow puckered. “Sarah, I do not think we should presume Mr. Cady is not interested.”

Sarah pursed her lips. She looked ready to ask him directly but changed her mind. “It’s time for us to go. Don’t forget to bring your shawls, girls. It can be cold at the park.”

Hardly any colder than her attitude,
thought Daniel.

The girls gathered their belongings and trailed behind Sarah like dutiful ducklings. Miss Samuelson held out her arm for him to take. He obliged.

“A balm, Miss Samuelson?”

“Surely, Mr. Cady.” She gave a pert grin. “You are smiling over them already.”

Whatever was Lottie thinking by inviting Daniel Cady to come with us? Why did I not protest? He has only come to question me about Josiah and that rumor about the nuggets, no matter what Lottie claimed back at the house.

But more importantly, how long does he intend to stare at me?

Sarah gathered her shawl around her shoulders and handed the picnic basket to Minnie. The girl, her eyes lit like Fourth of July rockets, had spent the entire streetcar ride to Golden Gate Park engaged in querying her about Daniel—how long would he stay in the city? What did he do for a living? Had Sarah met him before he’d come to San Francisco? How exactly was he related to Mr. Josiah?

That question Sarah had especially evaded.

She couldn’t blame Minnie or any of the girls for their curiosity. A Cady didn’t simply pop into their lives without evoking interest. But did he have to stare? He had from the moment they’d climbed onto the Geary Street cable car to the point where they had descended onto the platform at the Park. Perhaps Daniel thought with his unrelenting gaze he might compel Sarah into a belated confession about that purported treasure. She suspected she’d spent some of the time chewing her bottom lip.

“Should we go to the pond, Miss Sarah?” Minnie asked, her cheeks pink with excitement.

“If that’s what you girls want to do.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Minnie,” said Lottie, snapping open a fringed parasol.

“Then let’s find a good spot before it gets too crowded.” Minnie clutched Cora’s arm and whispered into her ear. Immediately, the two of them dashed down the wooden planks of the arrival area and onto one of the gravel paths winding through the park. Anne followed like a solemn watchdog. Lottie settled the parasol on her shoulder and set off with them.

Sarah clung to the ends of her shawl as if the paisley-printed wool might shield her from Daniel’s scrutiny. At the moment, though, he wasn’t looking at her, instead making a slow appraisal of the park, which stretched fresh and green beneath the clearing skies. What
did
he want? Any normal person would avoid spending time with someone they thought a cheat and a liar. Perhaps he lived by the adage it was best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Disturbed by her thoughts, she must have made some sort of noise, because his attention flicked to her. “Unhappy that I decided to join you today?”

“Did Lottie pay you off, Mr. Cady? Or did you think of a new line of questioning?” She risked a look at his face, at the hard edge of his jaw. Her directness didn’t alarm him; other men might have recoiled. Or looked scornful. “Well, you won’t find any of Josiah’s wealth hidden among the sandy dunes or the shrubs of the park.”

“I didn’t expect to.” He paused where the path met a broad gravel drive. “I’m here because your friend called me a coward.”

“Lottie called you a coward?”

She expected a crisp “yes,” but he didn’t answer straightaway, watching her closely and leaving Sarah with a funny flutter in her stomach. If only she could figure him out.

If only she didn’t want to try.

He looked down at her. In the bright morning light, his eyes were as green as the new growth of a balsam fir. “Maybe I’m actually listening to her advice not to rush to judgment.”

“What of your sisters and your promises to them?”

A shadow crossed his face, a flicker of regret or self-reproach. “We should call a truce, Miss Whittier. You don’t mention my sisters, and I won’t mention the rumors about those nuggets. How’s that?”

Sarah nodded. “All right.” She stretched out her hand. When he clasped it, his skin was warm and his grip firm, his strong fingers encompassing hers. Her stomach fluttered again. “Truce. For today.”

He released her hand. “We should probably catch up to the others. I want to enjoy this park I’ve been so encouraged to see.”

Wrapping her shawl close, she stepped onto the road that curved between hedges and a stand of palm trees. A horse and rider passed them, the fellow tipping his hat to Sarah and Daniel. A warbler trilled in a nearby tree, the crisp scent of the ocean hung in the air, and scraps of azure sky winked between drifts of clouds. The dirt and noise of the city were left far behind. She would enjoy the tranquility, the beauty, if she weren’t so aware of Daniel Cady at her side.

Sarah fetched around in her head for a safe—and distracting—topic.

“In the future, Golden Gate Park shall stretch all the way to the ocean, Mr. Cady.” Many of the trees were small, the eucalyptus scraggly, the cypresses just beginning to grow thick and tall. In the distance, the tawny sand of dunes was still visible. But here, the grasses were lush and bushes covered the reclaimed hills. It was fine and the promise of what it one day would be, already evident. “The conservatory is completed and they recently finished a music stand meant for entertainments, but there are plans for so much more. They intend to erect an aviary and plant an arboretum. I’ve even heard they intend to place a herd of buffalo in a paddock for viewing.”

“Did you ever accompany my father here, Miss Whittier?” Daniel asked, his voice tight, as they rushed across the carriage path in order to evade a buggy and its energetic driver.

The question surprised her; she didn’t think he would want to talk about his father any more than he wanted to discuss his sisters.

“A couple of times, in the first few months I worked for him. He became too ill to make excursions after that.”

“Was he in a great deal of pain in the end?”

She cast Daniel a glance. What could she say? Josiah had always been in pain, as much from the grief in his heart as the aches in his body. Would that he was still alive to ask why he’d left a family behind in Chicago, causing endless worlds of hurt for everyone. “Josiah had a good doctor.”

“And a good nurse.”

“Hardly. Most of my life has been spent learning my duties as a proper young lady who happened to be passable artist. I admit I dreamed that I’d move to Paris one day and paint with the greats.” Alongside Edouard, living off love.
Foolish, foolish Sarah.

“Instead your aunt and uncle sent you all the way from Arizona to San Francisco to tend my father.” He paused. “You know, I don’t remember Josiah ever telling us he had friends in Arizona.”

He sounded more regretful of the lapse than suspicious, but Sarah felt a nervous prick of unease anyway.

“Didn’t he?” Sarah asked lightly, trying to sound unconcerned. “An oversight, I guess.”

She kept her hands from twisting anxiously in her skirt. Had Daniel put two and two together and figured out that her uncle wasn’t merely one of Josiah’s friends but was his old mining partner? Was he trying to trip her up and get her to admit that the partner had lived in Los Angeles and not someplace in Arizona, and that she was lying?

Sarah wished she could tell Daniel the truth. That her last name hadn’t always been Whittier. That, when the future she’d planned with Edouard had turned to ashes, she’d found herself in San Francisco with the barest shred of dignity intact. She hadn’t
been able to return to Los Angeles after what she’d done. Despairing, she’d taken a room in a women’s benevolent society house, living off charity. Until she had spotted Josiah’s name in the local newspaper, embedded within an advertisement for a nurse-companion. And found a future.

Daniel was watching her closely. She must not have succeeded in sounding unconcerned.

“I’ve told you they were happy to send me here, and I have a greater dream to pursue because they did, Mr. Cady,” she responded, and it was easy to sound fervent when what she said was the plain truth. “I have no regrets.” Not about stepping off a train in San Francisco. Not about answering an advertisement for a nurse-companion or pursuing her dream of opening an art studio with women who needed someone to give them a second chance.

Her mistakes, however . . . she had plenty of regrets about those.

Daniel and Sarah cleared a break in the trees and the lawns stretched ahead of them. The girls were climbing a low rise across the way. Cora’s bright red hair, coming unbound, flashed in a sudden burst of sun. A peal of laughter echoed across the swale.

“They seem happy,” Daniel commented. “You have accomplished that much.”

“The girls never turn down a chance for a day in the park and a free lunch,” Sarah responded. “They deserve to be treated well for once without someone expecting something from them in return.”

“Is that what’s happened with Anne?” he asked, his gaze trained on the girl’s reed-thin figure, a dark line of sober gray among the fresh green grass. The other girls had disappeared over the hillock, Lottie along with them. “Is she not living up to someone’s expectations?”

“I never question Anne. I see the bruises and hope she’ll explain, but what could I do if she did? I’m not her guardian. The police
won’t listen to me. Or her, for that matter.” Sarah sighed out her frustration. “Anne lives with a man she claims is her brother, but none of us believes that’s really the case. He’s a brick mason and a rough character. My hopes are that, once she takes up her position at the shop, she’ll save up enough money to leave him.”