The Only Gold (17 page)

The man only looked around at his companion. “That him?”

She nodded, indignant. It spurred her defender to advance with clenched fists. “You was talking to my Sadie. Insulting her.”

“I asked her help in finding my way. If there was insult in that,” Jonah said, turning to the woman, “I’m quite sorry. I meant none.”

“Bill will give you what for,” Sadie said with a sniff. “You might’ve obliged me a cup of tea to ward off the chill. You look a gentleman, but you ain’t much of one.”

The grimy lines of Bill’s bearded face twisted in glowering outrage on Sadie’s behalf. He clamped an enormous hand on Jonah’s shoulder and leaned in, breath pungent with the odor of something stronger than tea. Jonah wrenched free and stepped back, brandishing his walking stick. “Let me pass.”

Bill advanced again, hands raised to wrest the stick away. Behind Jonah, footsteps shuffled, and he turned as two men stepped through a gate almost hidden in the fence. A hand seized the back of his coat collar, and he brought the stick around with enough force to land it smartly against Bill’s cheekbone. It sent Bill staggering, and blood flowed from split skin.

“Oh, Bill!” Sadie squealed, but he only broke into an unnerving grin.

“I like ’em that fights back.” He lunged for the stick, and Jonah, retreating, was swarmed by Bill’s confederates—three now, catching hold of him. Bill tore the stick from his grasp, and the others, apparently granted leave, robbed him with frightening efficiency of all other possessions. Bill raised the walking stick and, still grinning, tapped the silver knob on Jonah’s bare head. “Eye for an eye. Ain’t that what they say?”

“Eye for an eye.” Sadie plucked away Jonah’s glasses. “There’s the coin for supper.”

One of Bill’s confederates stepped up, scowling. “You said I’d have the next coat that come in. I don’t want it bloodied.”

Bill laughed. “We’ll wash the blood out. Sadie knows how.” Squaring his shoulders, he took a two-handed grip on the stick. “Hold him still.”

Jonah shrank back, pulling against three pairs of hands. The blast from a gun jolted him—and his attackers, judging by their gasps. His walking stick clattered in pieces before his eyes, and a voice broke the sudden quiet. “I’ve got bullets left to go around.” Hard, cold, and strangely amused. “Who’s first?”

The
sense of familiarity about it was fleeting, and when Bill and the rest vanished with even greater speed than they’d appeared, Jonah could only slump to the ground, thankful to be breathing. A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, but he could not resist as a second hand gained firm hold of him and helped him to his feet. He staggered, and his rescuer kept him from falling. As he started to pull away, the voice—Reid’s—admonished him. “Steady, Mr. Woolner, or you’ll be down again.”

He looked into Reid’s concerned face and an unwonted surge of anger swept him. He tried again to pull free, and Reid held on. “It’s me.” Reid leaned in close. “Can’t you see me?”

Jonah sucked in a breath. “Oh, I’m seeing you quite clearly.” He twisted out of Reid’s grip, and propelled by anger that kept him upright despite shaking legs, bounded halfway down the alley before a more unavoidable difficulty asserted itself. The street beyond was a dark blur punctuated by the flicker of the occasional coach lamp and the fainter glow from windows. Even the boldly painted letters on a passing wagon were illegible. And faces at a short distance he could not read at all.

It took Reid’s soft, exasperated laugh to spur him forward. But he’d advanced no more than a few steps when Reid moved swiftly up behind him and pulled him short. Jonah started to resist, but Reid forced him to lean down until his fingers came into contact with an iron bar protruding inches above the cobblestones. “What—”

“The cellar rail. Looks like someone misjudged the width of the alley. Took the whole rail down, but left enough for someone to trip over and go head first into the cellar.” Reid sounded disgusted, but he was gentle as he drew Jonah upright. “I’ll get you a cab.”

With relief came gratitude Jonah didn’t want to feel. He permitted Reid to slip an arm under his and lead him out of the alley into the still-crowded street. From there, they proceeded down one block, then another. The Fourth Ward at dusk was a continuous racket of voices and laughter, saloon after saloon blazing gaslight. Passing faces came in and out of focus, all with the glint of menace, or perhaps they seemed so, after his confrontation with Bill and Sadie.

Reid let him set the pace, warning him of every curb and impediment. The hand he kept at Jonah’s elbow spared Jonah the humiliation of having to cling to him. It wasn’t the first time Reid had shown him such consideration, despite their battles.

“Mr. Hylliard….” He didn’t know whether he meant to apologize or simply thank Reid for the assistance. “Are there no cabs?”

“Cabs?” Reid seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Not in this street—” Thunder interrupted him. Jonah started at the sound, and Reid laughed. “Don’t worry. The East Side’s not falling down around you. There’s a saloon—”

“It’s not raining.”

“It’s going to.”

“You’re certain there are no cabs?”

“You’re safe with me. I’m armed, remember?”

“You aren’t planning to take me somewhere to dispose of me, unnoticed… are you?”

Reid snorted. “If I wanted to dispose of you, there’s no better spot to go unnoticed than right here.”

“Just as I thought. Yet you want to stop in for supper.”

“I’d like to get out of the rain,” Reid said as it began to fall. “Do you mind?”

They weren’t the only ones seeking shelter. With every table occupied, Reid jostled a drunken group on a crowded bench until they made room for two more. Jonah sat gingerly and declined the offer of beer or gin. “It must be getting late….” He trailed off, hand splayed against his waistcoat. His Waltham. It was gone. The watch his parents had given him on his seventeenth birthday.

“I’m sorry,” Reid said, as if he knew.

Jonah avoided his eyes. “It’s my own fault. If you hadn’t come back—”

“Why were you following me? I’m sure you can appreciate my curiosity,” he went on dryly, as Jonah hesitated.

“I don’t know that this is the place to—”

“I won’t leave you here.” He sounded amused again.

Jonah was glad to hear it. Weary and chilled, he could hardly put two thoughts together. “I was concerned….” He sighed. “I overheard Simon mention….” He hesitated again, with the terrible conviction he had jumped to certain conclusions hastily. He half-wished he’d taken Reid up on the gin. “Simon mentioned you’d gone to James Street last week.”

“So?”

“Well….” Jonah looked at him, and abruptly Reid’s gaze narrowed.

“You took that to mean—”

“I didn’t—”

“You did. I’d even guess you were hoping it was true.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Why not? What a choice piece of gossip. Though I will say you’ve never struck me as the type to go in for that.”

Jonah dropped his gaze, chagrined. “I know most men in your position would have had me discharged by now.”

“Most men in my position wouldn’t necessarily see the value in keeping you on.”

“I am sorry….” Despite the noise and talk around them, Jonah couldn’t raise his voice. “I’ve been unfair. But please understand.
I—”

“Want to protect the bank. Yes, I’m familiar with your reason for….” Reid surveyed the room, a smile playing on his lips. “Your reason for everything you do, really. You might have just talked to me.”

“You were in such a hurry when you left. And you came here. I didn’t know what it could mean.”

“I came here because I needed some time to think, in someplace familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“This is home.” Reid stood. “The rain’s stopped. Let’s go.”

Wet pavements reflected light from the street lamps, leaving the world an even blurrier, more distorted vision before Jonah’s tired gaze. Reid had a light grip on his arm, but no longer let him set the pace. They moved along swiftly, and Reid seemed in no mood for conversation. At Park Row, he hailed a cab, and they rode in silence for long minutes, until Jonah could no longer contain his curiosity. “You’ve moved from Broadway?”

“When I said the East Side was home, I meant I was born and raised there. I haven’t lived there in a very long time.”

“You were going to visit family?” Jonah asked, realizing with a pang of guilt what he had interrupted.

“No family left, to speak of.” Reid’s tone did not invite sympathy. He looked at Jonah and the trace of a smile formed. “I was orphaned before I was born. Raised by a priest.”

“Good God.” Jonah’s every sensibility balked at the thought.

The smile deepened. “He was no saint. A good man, though. If there can be such a thing in the world.”

“In parts of the world, perhaps. I am less optimistic about the East Side.”

“It turns out some rough characters. But it’s not such a bad place.”

Jonah eyed him with disbelief. “You brought a gun.”

“So I did.” Reid sat back against the cushion and yawned. “Care to get some supper?”

“I think you’re ready for nothing more than a good night’s sleep. Have you….” Jonah hesitated. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven my presumption?”

Lashes lifted to regard him drowsily. “I might be so inclined, if you’ll do something for me.”

Jonah was disturbed at the thought of the request forthcoming. “Within reason.”

Reid chuckled. “Yours or mine?”

“Mine, of course.” The cab stopped, and Jonah looked out on a blurry but beautiful sight. He was thankful to be home, but it was a short-lived gratitude when Reid climbed out of the cab after him. Jonah was in no frame of mind to play host, but inviting Reid in to sit by the fire was the only civil thing to do. “If you’d like a cup of
tea—”

“I’d love one.”

Devoutly hoping no one was about, Jonah crept inside with Reid at his heels. Warm light poured from the partly open dining room doors, and Winnie fluttered into the hall, a cheery butterfly in her yellow dress and lace cap. “Jonah dear, you’re in time for supper….” Her eyes lit on Reid. “You’ve brought a guest. Well, we’ve plenty of room—”

Before she could go further, Jonah cut in. “Mr. Hylliard, may I introduce Miss Winifred Muncy. Winnie, this is Reid Hylliard, our cashier.”