Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (17 page)

The next day, Sarah was washing the breakfast dishes when Hiram, eyes bright with excitement, came rushing in. “I’ve got news. You must come to the store. Is Ma upstairs?”

Sarah nodded.

“Good. She doesn’t need to know yet.”

“Know what, Hiram?”

“Come to the store. You’ll see.”

Despite his bad limp, Hiram moved at a fast pace as they headed for Bryan’s General Store. She had a hard time keeping up with him. Once there, he led her to a bearded, white-haired man standing next to the counter. Judging from the scruffy condition of his clothes, he’d been working a claim not so very long ago. His bloodshot eyes and bulbous red nose hinted at a fondness for alcohol. Hiram performed the introductions. The man’s name was Ethan Cartwright, and he’d just arrived from Hangtown. Sarah couldn’t imagine why her brother wanted her to meet this unkempt man until Hiram pointed to the sketch of Florrie still tacked on the wall behind the counter.
“
Tell my sister what you told me, Mr. Cartwright.”

The miner blinked his rheumy old eyes and spoke to Sarah. “Yep, I’m sure that’s your sister. If that ain’t her, then she’s a dead ringer.”

Sarah stood amazed and shaken, using all her willpower to keep her jaw from dropping open. “You—you saw my sister? You’re sure, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Like I said, a dead ringer.”

Hiram asked, “You said you saw her in Hangtown?”

“Yep, Hangtown.” The miner scratched his head. “The young lady was waiting tables at one of the saloons. T’was the Gold Star Saloon, best I can recall. That’s smack dab in the middle of Hangtown. Nice girl. Name was Florrie. She served me a beer or two.”

They asked more questions, but Ethan Cartwright could tell them nothing more. After he left, Sarah and Hiram looked at each other in stunned disbelief. “We’ve got to decide what to do,” said Hiram.

Sarah placed her hand on her chest. “My heart’s beating like crazy. Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know what to believe. The old man seems sincere, but he’s a boozer. Maybe he’s making the whole thing up, some kind of alcoholic delusion.”

“Maybe so, but what if he’s not? What if he really did see Florrie?” A bubbly laugh escaped her lips. “What if we found her? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

A worried expression crossed Hiram’s face. “Let’s not get too excited. I tend to believe him, but think about it. What would our sister be doing in Hangtown serving beer in a saloon? Does that make sense to you?”

Her spirits fell as quickly as they’d soared. “I guess not. You’re right. He’s just a crazy old man who’s seeing things.”

“So should we tell Ma and Pa?”

Her mind raced. She hated to get their hopes up, especially Ma. With her delicate health, how could she stand another disappointment? But what if, for some unimaginable reason, Florrie really was serving beer in a Hangtown saloon? Maybe this would be their only chance to find her. “We should tell them. Let them decide.”

That evening, with the whole family gathered in the parlor, Hiram revealed the news about Florrie. Ma gasped and sank into the nearest chair.

Sarah hastened to say, “It’s just a rumor.”

Hiram added, “Ethan Cartwright is a drunk. He could very well have been seeing things, and he probably was.”

Ma bent forward as if the weight of the world sat on her shoulders. She started slowly swinging her head back and forth, as if in complete denial of their words. She finally spoke in a strangled voice barely above a whisper. “Ethan Cartwright is God’s gift to me. In my heart, I’ve always known Florrie wasn’t dead. For whatever reason, I know she’s there in Hangtown.”

Pa looked dubious. “I’m not so sure, Luzena. Can we believe a rumor told by a drunkard?”

Ma clenched her fists. “She’s there, Frank. I know it. I want my daughter back. You’ve got to go get her.”

“Of course, if you feel that strongly.” He drew a resigned breath. “All right, I’ll go.”

Sarah heard the hesitation in her father’s voice, and no wonder. His health had deteriorated to where it wasn’t much better than her mother’s. There were days when he came home early from the store because he got dizzy and had to lie down.

“I don’t think you should go, Pa.”

Hiram’s firm young jaw clenched with resolve. “I agree with Sarah. I’m the one to go.”

Becky, who had been sitting on the sofa, shot up like a canon. “You will do no such thing, Hiram Bryan. Your place is here with me.”

Sarah waited for what was sure to come. Yet again, her spineless brother would give in to his bossy wife.

Hiram took his time answering. A strange expression came over his face, one Sarah had never seen before. It contained a combination of grit, resolve, and annoyance. “That’s enough, Becky. I’m going to Hangtown. Is that understood?”

Amid gasps of surprise, Hiram limped from the room.

Becky stared after him. “Well, did you ever!”

About time
. Sarah followed after her brother and found him sitting on the porch steps. Without a word, she sat beside him.

Hiram cast a warning look in her direction. “You don’t have to say it. It was about time I stood up to my wife.” His expression softened. “And, yes, you had something to do with it.”

Sarah would have liked to discuss her part in his bold decision, but she had something more important to say. “I’ve thought it over. I’m coming with you.”

Her brother’s eyebrows raised high. “Really? That’s fine with me, but neither Ma nor Pa is going to like it. You may be twenty-nine, but Pa still thinks of you as his precious little girl who’s got to be sheltered from the big, bad world.”

“Even after all I’ve been through?”

“Yeah, even after all you’ve been through.” A small smile touched his lips. “That includes your little escapade helping the Chinese girl.”

“You know about that?”

“Did you think you could keep a secret in a town like Gold Creek? Of course, I knew. Everyone knew except Ma and Pa. And that crazy Au Fung, I hope.” He grew serious. “Ma won’t want you to go.”

“If I can help find Florrie, she’ll understand.” She grinned at her brother. “She’ll do anything to find her favorite daughter.”

Hiram ignored her attempt at humor. “Didn’t Jack McCoy say he was going to Hangtown?” He slanted an inquisitive glance. “Do you want to see him again?”

Leave it to her perceptive brother to ask a soul-wrenching question. She’d give him an honest answer. “Jack McCoy is out of my life forever. If I met him on the street, I’d pass him by without a word.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. We are done forever.”

“Almost there.” Hiram flicked the reins over the oxen and glanced at Sarah, sitting beside him. “Hangtown, dead ahead.”

She could hardly sit still. “Just think, Hiram, we might soon be seeing Florrie.”

“Let’s hope this journey hasn’t been for nothing.”

It hadn’t been easy. Pa hadn’t yet sold the oxen and wagon, so they were able to travel in relative comfort. Still, they’d left Mokelumne City nearly a week ago. The road leading into the Sierra Nevada Mountains became rougher as they traveled through huge groves of pines and evergreens, past streams full of icy water that had recently been snow. As they approached the main street of town, she grew ever more anxious. “What if she’s really here? What will we say?”

A flash of humor crossed Hiram’s face. “We might want to ask what she was doing in Hangtown serving beer.”

“Be serious.” She gave her brother a friendly nudge. “If what Mr. Cartwright said is true, then she must have been kidnapped or forced in some way.”

“We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”

Night was falling as they came to the main street of town. “Look how big it is, at least twice the size of Gold Creek,” Sarah remarked. Hiram drove the wagon slowly past stores of all descriptions lining both sides. A blacksmith’s shop, stable, butcher shop, two general stores, three banks, and countless hotels and saloons. As in Gold Creek, the street teemed with activity. Horses, buggies, and wagons jammed both lanes. Miners on foot crowded the wooden sidewalks. Men were everywhere, but like Gold Creek, women were scarce. As they drove, Sarah impatiently examined the sign on each saloon. El Dorado. Mansion House. The Oriental. And then—she clutched Hiram’s arm. “There on the left—The Gold Star Hotel & Saloon.”

“I see it.” Hiram tried to act his usual unruffled self, but the rasp of excitement in his voice gave him away. He pulled the wagon to a stop in an empty space not far from the wide-open double doors of the Gold Star. “You’re sure you want to do this right now? Maybe we should find a place to camp first, and then—”

“Now!” Sarah scrambled from the wagon and hastened across the muddy street, Hiram close behind. A piano tinkled as she walked through the doorway. She stopped to adjust her eyes to the dim, early evening light. The saloon was already more than half-full. Men sat at round, wooden tables playing poker, drinking their whiskey or beer. Across the room, a long, dark mahogany bar stretched from one wall to nearly the other. Two bartenders worked behind it. Could Florrie be working here today? Her gaze swept the room. Waiters were carrying huge trays of pitchers of beer to the tables. All men. Not a waitress among them.

They walked to the bar. “What’ll ya have?” asked the older of the bartenders, a heavyset man with a drooping mustache and a white apron covering his big belly.

“We don’t want a drink. We’re looking for someone.” Hiram pulled the tattered sketch of Florrie from his pocket and handed it to the bartender. “We’re looking for our sister. Have you seen her?”

The man behind the bar took his time examining the picture. “Hmmm.” He scratched his chin. Finally he looked up. “Sorry, can’t say that I have.”

“Her name is Florrie,” Sarah said. “We heard she was working here, that she was serving beer.”

The bartender shook his head and slapped the picture on the bar. “Haven’t seen her. She couldn’t have worked at the Gold Star. They hire only waiters, always have. The only women who work here are—”

“Jess, let me take a look.” The other bartender, a younger man with a fresh, clean-shaven face had been pouring beer into pitchers with an ear cocked to their conversation. He came over and picked up the picture. At first glance, his brows flickered. Sarah and Hiram exchanged anxious glances. Could it be he knew her?

The older bartender frowned. “We don’t know her, never saw her,
right, Ed
?”

Ed, the younger one, got a stubborn set to his chin. “I don’t see it that way, Jess. This here’s her family. If they want to know where she is, then we ought to tell them.”

Sarah’s heart leaped. “Then you know her?”

Ed looked up from the picture. “Her name’s Florrie?”

“Yes, Florrie!”

Jess, the older bartender, gave a careless shrug. “None of my business.” He walked away.

Sarah hardly noticed. She waited with bated breath for Ed to speak again.

“If her name’s Florrie, I know her.”

“Did she work here?” Hiram asked.

“She did, but only for a little while. She’s gone now. I can tell you where she is, though.”

“Please do.” Blood pounded in her temples. How she managed to get a word out, she didn’t know. She clutched Hiram’s arm. He, too, looked as if he was trying to control his emotions.

Ed continued, “It’s on the next street, a big, two story, wooden frame with a red door. She’s there.”

“Is she all right? She’s not sick or anything?”

“Far as I know, she’s fine.”

“Is there an address?” Hiram asked.

Ed got a strange look on his face. “You don’t need an address. Go one block over to Pacific Street. Turn right, look for the red door. That’s all I can tell you.” Abruptly, he turned and went back to pouring beer.

They made a quick exit from the Gold Star Saloon. With a springy bounce in her step, Sarah headed for the wagon. “I can’t believe this,” she called over her shoulder. “I never thought it would be this easy.”

Hiram followed close behind. “Neither did I. Only…”

“Only what?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling, Sarah.”

After she crossed the busy street, she turned to face him. “About what?”

Hiram’s face was unreadable. “I don’t know exactly, but brace yourself. You’d better be ready for anything.”

They had reached the house on Pacific Street and were approaching the front door when it burst open and a drunken man in gentleman’s clothing staggered out and down the steps. They stepped aside to let him pass and continued to the porch where a stern-faced, middle-aged woman met them at the door. She wore a fancy maid’s costume—starched white cap, black dress, frilly apron tied in a big bow in the back. She smiled at Hiram, caught sight of Sarah, and frowned. “What do you want?”

Sarah spoke up. “We’re looking for Florrie Bryan. Is she here?”

“No.”

The maid started to shut the door, but before she could, Hiram stuck his foot over the threshold. “Florrie Bryan is our sister. We know she’s here, and we want to see her.”

The maid hesitated, gave a curt nod, and swung the door wide. “Wait in the hall. I’ll tell Mrs. Northcutt you’re here.”

The heavy aroma of jasmine met Sarah’s nostrils as she and Hiram stepped into a marble-tiled entrance hall that had a wide, carpeted staircase leading to the second floor. Soft piano music played from somewhere, accompanied by the murmur of voices and tinkling glasses. Lips pursed with annoyance, the maid disappeared up the staircase. “What is this place?” Sarah asked.

Hiram nervously looked around. “I hope it’s not what I think it is.”

The piano music came from a room off the hallway. Sarah had to take a peek. She stepped close and peered into what must be the parlor.
Oh, my.
This
wasn’t the modestly furnished room she expected. An expanse of plush red carpeting covered the floor. A large, crystal chandelier hung from the ornately carved ceiling. Gilded mirrors and gaudy paintings lined the walls, and rich, red velvet drapes covered the windows. A huge portrait hung behind a mahogany bar at one end of the room. In it, a beefy, completely nude woman lay in a languorous pose propped on one elbow, chin in hand, bemused smile playing on her ruby lips. Every man in the room was nicely dressed, no miner’s scroungy attire among them. Most of the women wore gaudy gowns, so low cut it was a wonder their bosoms weren’t totally exposed. A couple of women wore no gown at all, just a lacy chemise and ruffled garters. One was sitting on a gentleman’s lap, ruffling his hair.