Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (24 page)

Sarah had never heard Cedric’s full story before. “That’s terrible. Couldn’t you have called the sheriff?”

“We ’ad a sheriff, but the coward was more interested in saving ’is neck than getting justice for me.” Cedric frowned with concern. “When I see the likes of ’annibal Palmer in ’ere, my blood runs cold. That man is the worst of the worst. Mean, vicious, and ruthless. Now Palmer’s building ’imself a mansion in San Francisco—up on Nob ’ill with the rest of the snobs. It’s all with blood money. That scoundrel ’as built ’is fortune off the claims ’e’s committed murder for, and some of it off those poor women ’e exploits in ’is brothels. Oops, pardon, ma’am. I shouldn’t be talking about such subjects with a lady.”

If he only knew
. “I heard he lives in Coloma.”

“’E does, with that ’igh and mighty wife of ’is, but only till ’e gets ’is fancy mansion in San Francisco built. Did you ’ear about the babies?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Those poor women ’e keeps in ’is brothels ’ave babies. Rumor ’as it when they do, ’e takes them away and either kills them outright or keeps them, some say for servants, but I dunno. It could be for a reason far worse than that. Poor little creatures never ’ave a chance.”

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. Her knees went weak. “I…I had better go sit down.”

“Sorry!” Cedric helped her to the nearest chair. “I should ’ave realized a lady like you is too delicate to ’ear such things, even though those women are only ’ores.”

“Just leave me alone a moment. I’ll be fine.” The room started spinning around. She bent forward and put her head between her knees. She almost lost consciousness but not quite, and soon the light-headedness passed. Cedric hovered over her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Gregg? Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not, Cedric. I’m fine, really. Get back to work. I’ll just sit here a minute.”

For a long time she sat quietly, alone, recovering from the shock of the little cockney’s words.
Either kills them outright or keeps them, some say for servants….
Why had she waited so long? Why had she cared more for her own concerns than her sister’s child? But wait, Hannibal Palmer was here. She could talk to him right now. She leaped to her feet and rushed into the dining room. “Oh, no,” she muttered. The table was empty.

One of the customers overheard. “They’re gone, ma’am. I heard them say something about heading back to Coloma.”

That settled it. Come tomorrow, Jack or no Jack, she was going to Coloma, and when she got there, she’d rescue her sister’s child.

In deepening twilight, Jack unpacked the last of the mules and led the animals to the stables behind the store.

“Jack?”

He looked around. She was picking her way toward him, carefully lifting her skirt, a wise precaution in a stable yard. “Sarah? What are you doing out here?”

“I’ve got to talk to you.” She came close. She wasn’t smiling. “I’ve got to go to Coloma, and I want you to come along.”

“What about Hiram?”

“He’s much too busy running his saloon.”

“When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow, early. Here’s what’s happened…”

When she finished relating Cedric’s horror story about the babies, she asked, “So, can you go with me? If you can’t, I’ll go alone.”

Was she crazy? The trail to Coloma was far from safe. No trail was safe these days, what with bandits, thieves, wild animals and God-knew-what-else lurking along the way.
My God, woman, did you honestly think I’d let you go by yourself?
“He gave a casual shrug. I’ve got nothing better to do. Sure, I’ll go. I’ll get you a horse.”

She smiled with relief. “If we ride hard, maybe we can get there in a day.”

“Maybe.” Or maybe not. What a shame the now-virtuous Widow Gregg might be forced to spend a night alone in the wilderness with Jack McCoy, notorious gambler, ne’er-do-well drifter and man who loved her so much he’d be hard put to remember they were just friends.

* * * *

Thoughts of confronting Hannibal Palmer and his wife lay heavy on Sarah’s mind as they took to the trail the next morning. Even so, she couldn’t help but enjoy the bright sunshine, crisp, pine-scented air, and a trail that took them through thick growths of Ponderosa pines, past blooming mock orange bushes ten feet high covered with pretty white blossoms, past fields of wildflowers the colors of the rainbow. Jack rode Bandit. She rode a mare named Star, not as good a horse as Rosie, but perfectly fine. Aside from a just-in-case bedroll, she’d brought what she considered her best outfit for visiting. Her new, rose-sprigged calico dress was carefully packed in her saddlebag. She adored the bonnet she’d just bought at the General Store. Made of straw braid, trimmed with green and white moiré ribbon, it suited her perfectly and sat in its place of honor, carefully attached to the saddle behind her. Jack had specially ordered food for at least two meals from the El Dorado Hotel and packed it in his saddlebags.

Once they got underway, Jack had remarked, “I can’t guarantee we’ll see Palmer. What if he isn’t home? Chances are he won’t be.”

“Chances are his wife will be home, don’t you think?”

“No guarantee.”

“That doesn’t discourage me in the least. If the wife isn’t home, I’ll wait.” Nothing was going to stop her. She would
not
be discouraged, no matter what. “Actually, I haven’t worked out a plan yet. I have no idea what I’ll say.”

From Bandit’s back, Jack raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s time you gave it some thought.”

“It will all work out.” Because it had to. She’d figure the details later.

At noon, they stopped and ate fried chicken and potato salad in the middle of a field of wildflowers. Jack produced a flask filled with brandy and poured a small amount into two tin cups. “To get us through the afternoon.”

Sarah sighed with contentment. This was like a picnic back home, only better. What could be more enjoyable than sitting in a beautiful meadow, stomach comfortably full, spot of brandy sliding deliciously warm down her throat, her companion the man she dreamed of at night, never mind the rest. She could almost wish it wasn’t going to end soon. “Will we get there by nightfall?”

“I don’t think so. With this rough terrain, the horses won’t make more than twenty miles.”

“Then I guess we’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight.”

“Looks that way.”

Oh, my God
.

They stopped for the night in thick forest by a cold, fast running-stream. Enough food remained that they didn’t bother with a fire. They washed it down with brandy and sat facing each other on soft grass by the stream, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains to the west.

The anxiety that earlier had tied Sarah’s stomach in knots had disappeared. “Nothing like riding a horse all day to make you forget your troubles.”

Jack smiled back. “I’m glad, considering tomorrow you’ll be taking on a madman.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“I think you’re a brave woman who’s willing to sacrifice her own safety for the sake of a child she doesn’t even know.”

She didn’t answer right away, basking in the glow of his flattering words. She enjoyed looking at him as he leaned casually on one elbow, that charming smile on his face, his long, tough body stretched out across from her. Throughout the day, he couldn’t have been more patient and helpful. Just now, when they stopped for the night, he unsaddled the horses, got them watered, fed, and hobbled for the night while making it all seem effortless. If she hadn’t insisted on laying out their dinner on the hotel’s small linen tablecloth, she wouldn’t have lifted a finger. Not like when she was married to Joseph.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Did I make a face? I was thinking of my late husband. Not a pleasant memory.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, but I have many pleasant memories, not of Joseph, but my childhood.”

“So tell me.”

It seemed a perfect night for reminiscing. As the full moon rose and a million stars started twinkling, she told him about her happy childhood in Fort Wayne, Indiana, how close her family was, how they hardly ever argued. Then came Pa’s earth-shattering decision to pack up and head west, followed by the awful shock when her sister disappeared. “Florrie wasn’t lovable. She was an awkward and difficult child, and that’s why I think I loved her all the more—just because no one else did. When I saw her in that brothel…” Sarah closed her eyes. “What’s to become of her? She thinks it’s all a party and it’s…it’s…”

“I know,” Jack answered softly. He’d listened attentively to her every word.

“You told me once you were raised in a brothel.” Oh, no! She’d spoken without thinking. He was always so secretive about his past, and she didn’t mean to pry.

Jack sat straight, poured the remnants of the brandy into his cup, and drank it down. He looked up at the moon, as if seeking a decision from above. He looked back at Sarah and began in a calm, almost deadly quiet voice, “I told you my mother was a prostitute, and that is true. She worked in a brothel on Rum Alley in Five Points.” His lips twisted into a sour grin. “Not the finest neighborhood in New York. It was an old, rotted building, dark and dank, full of rats and cockroaches.”

“You actually lived there?”

“Since I was five or six. Before that, we lived in a classier brothel, but my mother… That’s another story. When I was little, the whores used to make over me—put me on their laps and give me candy. When I got older, after we moved to the Rum Alley brothel, my mother put me to work. I carried towels, cleaned up messes, washed dishes. I spent a lot of time standing in the hallway while she conducted her business in her room. Sometimes I’d cover my ears because I hated hearing the sounds. She warned me not to come in while she was ‘working,’ no matter what I heard. I disobeyed her only once, when she was screaming for help and I couldn’t stand it. I burst in and threw myself on the swine who was pounding on her with his fists. He brushed me off like I was a bug.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Guess who got beat up the worst?”

“You did?”

He nodded grimly. “My mother had no time for sympathy. If it hadn’t been for—” He stopped to control a tremor in his voice.

She waited. If he didn’t continue, she wouldn’t press him. “Shall we change the subject?”

“Do I shock you?”

“No. I have the feeling you’ve never told anyone what you just told me.”

“Good guess.”

“You don’t have to say anymore.”

His shoulders relaxed, as if he’d just made a decision he was fine with. “Her name was Jenny. She was a whore, just like my mother, but that’s where the resemblance ends. My mother was a hard, brittle woman. Life had been cruel to her. Her bitterness showed in her face and the way she treated me. I can never remember her smiling. I can never remember her once saying a kind word. But Jenny…” He smiled, remembering. “Soft blue eyes, long, blond hair, and she always smelled of lavender. She wore those silk robes with the flowers, the ones the Chinese wear. Sometimes she’d bend over a bit and the robe would open. I was only a boy, but I’ll never forget those tantalizing glimpses. Of all the women in that place, she was the only one who cared about a little boy whose home was a brothel. I never went to school. She’s the one who taught me how to read and write, and just about everything else I know. I never asked, but she must have come from a good family. How she ended up in a brothel in Five Points, I’ll never know.”

“Couldn’t that be said of all women who end up in such places?”

“They each have their story. Sadly, it’s always a story with a bad ending.”

“What happened to Jenny?”

“She—” He bit his lip and breathed deep, as if he could no longer face an agonizing memory. “The sun’s gone. It disappears fast in these mountains.”

She got the hint. “It certainly does.”

“We’d best get some sleep. You sleep here. I’ll sleep over there.”

How gallant he was, how gentlemanly, how respectful. But she didn’t want respectful. Desire clawed at her, hot and sharp. She put her hand on her hip and tipped her head. “Do you really want to sleep apart?”

The next moments were all a blur. His cry of gladness, his strong arms encircling her, his breath hot and heavy in the hollow of her neck as he lowered her to the ground, his hands at the buttons of her dress. “No, I did not want to sleep apart,” he murmured as the sweet pull of desire ended all rational thought, and she gave herself up to the delights of making love under the stars with Jack McCoy.

* * * *

When Sarah awoke in the morning, Jack was already up saddling the horses. “Two hours more and we should be there,” he called. “We’ll have breakfast at one of the hotels.”

“Sounds good.” No mention of last night, and that was for the best. She must concentrate on other things today. From the saddlebag, she pulled her carefully packed cotton calico. “I’m heading for the creek. Be right with you.”

Today would be difficult, to say the least. Up to now, she hadn’t thought beyond her resolve to get Florrie’s baby back, never mind how. She’d figure that out later. But “later” had arrived. Dressed in her best, she was going to walk right up to the front door of Hannibal Palmer’s mansion, ring the bell, and ask to see the owner of the house. She would be asked in, ushered into the presence of the supposed great man himself, and say what?

“
You took my sister’s baby, and I want her back.
”

No, too confrontational.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you’d return my sister’s baby.”

Absolutely no. She would not grovel.

No use planning ahead. When the moment came, she would know what to say. She washed in the creek, slipped into the cotton calico dress, combed her hair and set the straw braid bonnet with the green and white ribbons on her head. When she returned to camp, she held out her arms and did a slow turn. “What do you think? Will Hannibal Palmer be properly impressed?”

Jack’s gaze was soft as a caress. “I don’t know about Palmer, but you’ve got me properly impressed and then some.”

Her heart just about melted. How easy it would be to fall into his arms again, relive the heated passion of last night. But no, Florrie’s baby came first.