Rescuing the Heiress (13 page)

B
y the time Gerald Bell Clark reached his still-erect bank building, Phineas Edgerton was already there looking after things.

“Phineas! Good man. How bad is it?”

“Bad enough, G.B. Have you seen the crowds in the streets? Rabble. Pure rabble. No telling what they'll do in these circumstances. Maybe even storm the vault.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Gerald said, patting the younger man on his slim shoulder. “I brought extra men with me and stationed them outside to act as guards. And we have plenty of ammunition. I think we can hold off a small army, if it comes to that.”

“What about your house, your daughter?”

“Tess will be fine. I ordered her to stay home.”

Phineas huffed. “What makes you think she will abide by your wishes when she's been filling her head with all that woman suffrage nonsense?”

“My daughter is a reasonable person. She'll do as I say. And she'll eventually agree that you are the best
choice for a husband, too. Just give me time. I'll bring her around.”

As Gerald watched, he saw the other man's expression harden. Not that he could blame him. Tess was a headstrong woman, one worthy of being a Clark, yet difficult to handle.

Gerald was certain that his choice of Phineas as his future son-in-law would prevail, even if it took Tess a little time to accept the idea. The man was a gem, unfortunately not too muscular or particularly comely but with the intelligence and shrewd instincts a successful banker needed. And once Tess became his wife, the Clarks and the Edgertons could merge their fortunes and create a banking dynasty that was unrivaled. It was a perfect plan.

Eyeing Phineas, Gerald stifled a grimace. His grandchildren might turn out to be gaunt-looking with long, hooked noses if they didn't happen to favor Tess's side of the family tree, but that was the least of his concerns. Once he got her married off and properly settled, he could stop losing sleep over the possibility of her making a poor choice of a husband and start fully concentrating on his business again.

Gaining that kind of peace of mind was worth any sacrifice. He should know. He'd made a similar one when he'd married the sickly but wealthy wife who had borne him a headstrong, troublesome daughter instead of the strapping son he'd always wanted.

 

As Tess wended her way through the mass of refugees she was both amazed and befuddled. Many were sooty
and weary but others seemed so nonchalant about the circumstances that had forced them out of their homes it was incomprehensible.

Well-dressed women in fancy frocks, coats and the kind of elaborate hats she and Annie had worn to the suffragette lectures were chatting, laughing and holding sway as if they were about to serve tea in their own drawing rooms. Many had apparently had some of their finest furniture transported to the park so they would be comfortable there, acting as if they considered the outing a mere lark. Didn't they know about all the poor souls who had perished? Didn't they care?

“All right,” a man shouted just to her right. “Everybody smile. Let's show those hoity-toity easterners that nothing bothers us here in Frisco.”

Tess paused and scowled at him. He had a tripod and small camera set up and was actually taking photographs in the park, apparently bent on taking full advantage of the disaster to fill his pockets with filthy lucre. And he wasn't the only one. There were pushcarts brimming with fruit and baked goods making the rounds. Even the Chinese had come, apparently for safety as well as to peddle their wares, and were freely mingling with residents of the city who would normally have treated them with disdain.

Still, wasn't this the kind of equality and freedom Maud Younger had espoused?
Tess wondered.
Perhaps
, she answered,
but what a shame it took such carnage to bring it about.

Reaching the small clubhouse where she had expected
to find some semblance of organization, Tess was greeted by a group of rowdies instead of the refined gentlemen she had expected. The crudely clad young men had taken over the main room as if they belonged there and were in various states of repose. Some had even propped their muddy boots on the manager's desk with no apparent qualms.

Tess hesitated briefly before deciding that she was being too quick to judge. After all, she was anything but pristine-looking herself, having dressed without much thought and having later employed her bare hands to dig through the wreckage of Rose's house.

She nervously brushed her palms over her skirt, tossed locks of her long hair back over her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Can any of you tell me where I might find a doctor?”

The raucous laughter that ensued told her she had been right to prejudge these men, fair or not.

“You want
what?
” one of them asked, shouting to be heard above his cronies' catcalls.

“A doctor. I have a friend who may be injured.”

He snorted and spat onto the already filthy floor. “Lady, are you crazy? There ain't no docs here and there ain't gonna be. Go on now. Leave us in peace.”

“But…”

One of the other men lobbed a juicy apple core toward the doorway. It splatted on the floor, just missing the hem of Tess's skirt.

Startled, she jumped away, to the amusement of the
entire group, then whirled and began to run back toward the spot where she'd left the horse and buggy.

Why had she let Michael convince her to come here? They should have gone home, to the house on Nob Hill, where they'd at least have had a roof over their heads and sufficient food and water.

Suddenly realizing she'd become disoriented, Tess stopped and turned in a circle. Everything looked different than it had just minutes ago. Tides of people were entering the open grounds in a never-ending flow of humanity, evidently bringing with them as many of their worldly goods as they could carry. A few were even towing chairs with bundles lashed to their seats in lieu of a suitable wagon or cart.

Seeking to find a landmark and get her bearings again she stood on tiptoe. All she could see in the distance was the same surging, jostling, pushing, determined kind of horde that surrounded her.

Outside the park boundaries a steady procession of erstwhile evacuees rushed by, headed for the docks or to the railway station although Tess couldn't imagine that those tracks were in any better shape than the buckled remains of the trolley routes that had been thrust out of the ground like so many twisted jackstraws.

As she turned back to scan the park grounds, the head of a familiar-looking gray horse rose above the hats of men and women in the distance. Tess's jaw gaped. She stared. Someone was driving her buggy toward her, against the main flow of pedestrian traffic. No one had
permission to take her rig. Therefore, a thief must be making off with their only means of transportation!

Hiking her skirt to her shoe tops, she began to elbow, shoulder and zigzag her way through the crowd as best she could. “Excuse me. Let me through. Please, move aside. I must get past.”

Time slowed. She felt as if she were taking one step back for every two she took forward. People pushed her. Blocked her without seeming to even notice. Impeded her progress until she was ready to scream.

She refused to give up. Surrounded closely by the swarm of people, she could no longer actually see the horse's approach but she remembered that it had been headed for the gateway she had finally reached.
Praise God.

Panting to catch her breath and coughing from the smoky air, she waited while trying again to peek over the heads and hats that kept interfering with her view.

The horse suddenly burst through as the crowd parted and gave ground. Tess lunged for its bridle and grabbed a fistful of reins below its bit, shouting, “Stop! Thief!”

Startled, the animal tossed its head, nearly lifting her off the ground. She held tight. Her sharp cry of, “Stop this buggy this instant,” seemed to have the desired effect because the command was obeyed.

Ready to shout for a policeman or at least appeal to passersby to assist her in exacting justice, Tess gritted her teeth, stepped to one side of the heavily muscled horse's chest and looked up, ready to give the driver a good scolding.

Her jaw dropped.
Michael?

The fight went out of her as quickly as her breath had and she sagged against the animal's neck, overcome with gratitude to her heavenly Father for bringing them together again in spite of the turmoil.

Michael was beside her in a heartbeat, taking her in his arms and consoling her. “Calm down. It's just me. You're all right.”

All right? Oh, yes. She was more than all right. She was superb.

Her own arms slipped around his waist. She knew she should say something, do something, but for those few precious moments all she wanted was to stay precisely where she was. With him. With her Michael. As long as he was willing to hold her close and comfort her, she was more than delighted to let him do so.

 

“I have to borrow the horse and buggy,” he said, lightly kissing the top of her head and noting how satiny her lovely hair felt in spite of its tangles. “I knew you wouldn't mind. Most of the buildings in the city aren't safe. I'm going to be bringing in the folks who want to come here and can't make it on their own.” His grip tightened for a moment before he released her. “Can you get back to Annie and Mrs. Dugan by yourself?”

He could tell Tess wanted to say no, but she nodded affirmatively instead. That was like her. She might be barely able to drag one foot after the other, yet she'd insist she was fine.

“I'll make sure I come by to check on you as often as I can,” he said. “I promise.”

She gazed up at him. “What about the fires? They must be bad. We can see a lot of smoke from here. Look at this air. I hurts to take a deep breath.”

“I know.” Michael wasn't sure how much to tell her, then decided that knowing the truth was better than believing the wild rumors that were undoubtedly circulating.

“Chief Dennis Sullivan, the man I was counting on to manage this battle, was mortally injured in the quake,” he said, watching her reaction and seeing the empathy he knew she'd express.

“I'm so sorry.”

“We all are. It's my understanding that some of the alarms are being repaired but so far there's no real organization. Fires are burning around Market and Kearney, and of course on Geary Street where the Dugans' house was.”

“There must be more than that,” Tess said, gripping his forearm and blinking back tears. “I know I see signs in other places.”

He noted the passage of the bright silk robes of a group of Chinese: men, women and children as well as two-wheeled carts of trade goods and personal possessions. “Aye. I expect Chinatown to be leveled, if it isn't already. Those shacks are like a tinderbox just waiting for the strike of a match.”

Michael knew it was wrong to delay any longer when he was sorely needed for the rescue efforts. Tearing
himself away from Tess was going to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

“I have to go,” he said tenderly as he pried her fingers from his arm. “I have work to do.”

“I know.” Wide-eyed, she stared up at him. “I can't just sit here and bide my time when I may be able to help, too. Take me with you.”

“That's out of the question.” He was about to turn away when she grabbed his shoulder.

“No! Wait. I have a wonderful idea. There are more horses and buggies in our stables. If we head that direction I can hitch up a much bigger rig and we can either each drive one or I can ride with you. What do you say?”

His initial reaction was denial. Then he gave her idea more thought and had to agree that portions of it had merit, though it was also fraught with danger.

“How do you propose to get a larger buggy like the cabriolet through these streets?” he asked. “Chances are good it will break down before we've gone a block. What then?”

Facing him, Tess fisted her hands on her hips. “That rig you're driving is the most fragile of them all and you know it. Papa has an old freight wagon at home. It's sturdy oak, with wire-rimmed wheels. If we hitch a four horse team and put your sensible, strong one in the wheel position for stopping power on the hills, we should be fine. And we'll be able to haul a lot more, too.”

“That makes sense,” Michael finally said. “Give me a note so your grooms know I have permission and I'll
do it.” He could tell before he'd finished speaking that his alteration of her proposal was not going to meet with her approval. Not even slightly.

“Oh, no, you don't,” Tess said with a lopsided smile. “I'm not going to make it easy for you to get away from me this time. If you get orders to go fight fires I won't argue, but until that time I'm going to become your shadow.”

“You are a stubborn, willful woman, Miss Clark. Do you know that?”

“I certainly do,” Tess replied. Her grin spread. “Now, are you going to stand there and debate or are you going to drive me back to see Annie so I can tell her where I'm going?”

Without ceremony he hustled her to the buggy, spanned her small waist with his hands and lifted her high enough to place her feet inside while she shrieked the way she used to when they had played and teased as children.

Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flaming when she plopped down onto the seat, slid over and watched him climb aboard.

Michael took up the reins. So far, he'd had no problem with anyone trying to usurp their transportation but he knew that was probably only because those fleeing the city were not yet desperate enough to begin acting like an unruly mob. That kind of behavior would start soon, he feared. Which was another reason why he'd have preferred that Tess stay with the Dugans and that everyone remain inside the park. There they'd be safe
from possible aftershocks, spreading fires and anticipated threats of violence.