Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (20 page)

Sarah hurried down the staircase and hugged Anming, towels and all. “It’s a long story. What are
you
doing here?”

The little Chinese girl backed away and set the towels on the staircase. “I couldn’t stand working in Fatt Cheng’s laundry for practically no pay.”

“But a brothel?”

Anming shrugged. “At least it’s better than twelve hours a day of steam and hot irons. After what I’ve been through, nothing here can shock me.” She frowned in puzzlement. “What are you doing here? You’re not—?”

“Oh, no. My sister is here. Her name’s Florrie.”

Anming’s eyes went wide. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Florrie’s your sister?”

Sarah nodded. “I tried to get her to leave, but she won’t go. It breaks my heart.”

“You know about the baby?”

“Little Addy was my niece. So sad she died.”

Anming’s brows drew together in a frown. “Are you sure? I heard Florrie’s baby isn’t dead. They took her away.”

Sarah caught her breath. “Addy’s alive?”

“Anming!” Here came Mrs. Northcutt stomping down the staircase. “Get back to work. You’re not allowed to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anming cast an apologetic look at Sarah. She picked up the towels and hurried away.

Mrs. Northcutt huffed herself up. Her face got red. She glared at Sarah. “Get out. You have no business here. If you come here again, I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

Sarah didn’t doubt her. She hadn’t seen a guard yet, but doubtless they were around and no doubt armed. Anming had disappeared. Nothing to do now but leave with as much dignity as she could muster. She wished she could come up with some scathing remark that would put the madam in her place, but nothing came to mind. Head held high, she walked out the front door, not saying another word.

Hiram waited outside. He took one look at her face and asked, “My God, what happened?”

She had to get away from this horrible place. “Wait ‘til we get back to camp, and I’ll tell you.”

Sarah waited until they were sitting by their campfire before she related the astonishing news about Florrie. When she finished, Hiram frowned in bewilderment. “She had a baby? Then it died, but maybe it didn’t? What are we supposed to believe?”

“I’m not sure, but I tend to believe Anming.”

“So do I. Florrie’s full of lies.”

“Maybe she’s not lying. In a place like that, they wouldn’t have wanted Florrie to keep the baby. What would be easier than to tell her the baby died? Without her knowing, they could have taken it away and—”

“And what?” Hiram flashed a rare look of anger. “What kind of a world do we live in that people could steal a baby from its mother?”

Sarah nodded a silent agreement. “I’ve got to talk to Anming again, but how? Mrs. Northcutt warned me never to come back. She wouldn’t let you in, either. Even if one of us did get in, how could we find Anming? By sheer luck, I saw her in the hallway, but that’s not likely to happen again.”

“Any chance Anming might come to us?”

“How can she? I never had the chance to tell her where we’re staying.”

Hiram grimaced. “We don’t have much money left. Maybe we should just go home.”

“Wait, I can hardly think straight.” Sarah placed her fingers on her temples. So many things to consider. She had to get organized, think of a plan. “We can’t leave yet. If Anming’s right, we’ve got a little niece out there somewhere. Think of it, Hiram, Florrie’s baby, our own flesh and blood. What would Ma think if we knew her very own granddaughter was out there somewhere, and we didn’t try to find her?”

Hiram took a moment before he answered, “What was I thinking of? We should stay, at least until we talk to Anming and find out what she knows. Truth be told, I…” In a wistful voice he continued, “There are times when I wish I could stay here and never go home.”

He had to be thinking of Becky. “I’m not surprised.”

He shook his head. “You’re thinking I’d like to stay away from that terrible wife of mine?”

“She’s not terrible, but—”

“I know what the family thinks of Becky, and they’re right. She’s a nag, know-it-all, and selfish to boot. But the funny thing is I love her.” Hiram’s voice nearly broke with feeling. “The way I figure, she’d be a lot easier to live with if I could give her what she wants. A child, of course, but that’s not happening. She wants nice clothes, a nice home—you know what I mean. But I can’t give her those things because I’m a failure in life.” Sarah opened her mouth to protest. He held up a hand and continued, “Just yesterday, a Frenchman came into town with seven thousand dollars in gold dust. Men are getting rich all around me, but what have I found?” He let out a bitter laugh. “My so-called big find in Gold Creek? Finding that nugget was a fluke. It’ll never happen again. Other than that, I’ve found five ounces of gold dust—enough for a couple of beers in this town.”

Sarah couldn’t argue. Most of what her brother said was true. She would never agree he was a failure in life, but now was not the time to discuss it. She searched for the right words. “You never know what the future holds.” Oh, no, what a platitude. Why had she said such a stupid thing?

“You never know what the future holds,” Hiram repeated, mocking her words. Not like him at all. Face distorted with bitterness, he gazed down at his twisted leg. “I’ll tell you what the future holds for me. I’ll go home a failure, a cripple. I’ll use the nugget I found to buy a beet farm. Becky will be happy, but me? I’ll be digging up beets, hating every moment of it until the day I die.”

What could she say? “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

After a long pause, Hiram squared his shoulders. “All right. I’m finished feeling sorry for myself. Let’s get back to Anming.”

Thank goodness, her brother had gotten over his bad mood and was back to his normal easy-going self. She’d never seen him so bitter and upset. He’d never let on how much he was hurting. Like a typical man, he’d concealed his feelings well, and she’d never guessed his inner turmoil. She did now. She’d never take him for granted again.

For a long time, Hiram sat silent, looking up at the treetops. In a wistful voice, he finally continued, “We don’t have much money, but let’s stay at least until the money runs out. That should give us some time to look for Florrie’s baby.”

Until this moment, Sarah hadn’t realized how much she wanted to stay. Now that Hiram agreed, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Now they could find out more about Florrie’s baby, one way or the other. And then also…
Jack
. No, no. She was through with him. Through forever, and she had to stop allowing him to creep into her thoughts. “If we run low on money, I could start baking apple pies.”

“You’d make a fortune.” Hiram’s eyes twinkled. “You should do it. You could be Hangtown’s Queen of Pies.”

They were back to light banter, thank goodness. “Seriously, I just might. I’ll write to Ma and Pa tomorrow and let them know we plan to stay a while.”

“What about Anming?”

“Somehow I’ll find a way to talk to her.” At the moment, she had no idea how.

Later that night, Hiram stomped out the campfire and went to bed in the wagon. Holding a lantern, Sarah was about to go to bed in their tent when the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves made her turn her head. No doubt someone was just riding by, but no, whoever it was stopped at their campsite. She raised the lantern high.
Jack
. He was riding Bandit, the horse she loved most except Rosie. She set the lantern on the ground and hurried to the horse’s side. “Bandit!” She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his thick mane. “I’ve missed you, old friend. How good to see you again.”

“Hello, Sarah.”

She looked up. Jack sat on his horse gazing down at her. “How did you know where I was?”

He swung from the saddle. “Now that you’ve said hello to my horse, do I rate a greeting?” His left brow raised in amusement.

She wanted to laugh but stopped herself. “I thought I told you—”

“You were easy to find.” He stepped into the circle of light from the lantern, casual as ever, a disarming grin on his face. “Word gets around. There aren’t that many good-looking women in this town.”

“I clearly said I never wanted to see you again.”

“We’re going to start over.” He walked to a seat by the campfire and sat down. “Come sit.”

She ought to refuse, demand he leave, but his voice held such authority she’d rather not defy him, at least not yet. Besides, she was not only curious, his near-irresistible charm was getting through to her again. Taking her time, she walked to the remains of the campfire and sat across. “What do you mean, start over?”

“I mean exactly that. You recall our last meeting?”

How could she forget? “I remember.”

“Your first words to me were, ‘Why, Jack McCoy, how lovely to see you again.’”

“As I recall, yes.”

“Would you care to rephrase that?”

“Why…why…I…uh…” What was he getting at?

“I’m asking because you weren’t happy to see me, were you?”

“No, I was not.”

“You were being sarcastic.”

“Yes, I was.”

He nodded as if she’d just confirmed what he already knew. “You were angry with me. You still are, and I don’t blame you. When we parted in Gold Creek, I acted like I didn’t care. After that, you never heard from me.”

“You might have at least dropped me a line.” She accompanied her remark with a careless shrug. No need to mention the ache in her heart each time the mail had arrived and no letter from him.

“I want you to know I…” Despite his casual manner, she could see he was struggling for words. “No matter how it looks, I have feelings for you, Sarah. I’ve missed you.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “‘Missed’ is hardly the word, but we won’t go into that. I don’t know why you and your brother are in Hangtown, but whatever the reason, I’m here to help in any way I can. I wanted you to know that.”

The old hurt still lingered. She should tell him goodbye, don’t ever come back. But on the other hand… The light from the lantern flickered. It would soon go out, but it didn’t matter. Every good-looking inch of him was etched in her memory. Oh, no, she couldn’t turn him away, and yet she could never let him hurt her again. “All right, we’ll be on speaking terms, but I want it clear we’re just friends and nothing more.”

“Of course.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean, Sarah. I won’t touch you.” He laughed softly. “Unless you say otherwise.”

“No chance of that.” He’d better not mistake the firmness in her voice.

“That’s settled then. Let’s talk. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. One thing I want to know right now.”

“And what is that?”

“What the hell were you doing in a whorehouse?”

* * * *

Next morning, Ben Longren was standing behind the counter of Longren & McCoy’s General Store when Jack walked in. Ben took one look and inquired, “What happened to you?”

Jack shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been dragging around here like you lost your last friend. Now you look like you just discovered the world’s biggest gold strike.”

“Must be the weather.” Leave it to his friend to catch his change of mood. He hadn’t wanted to admit, even to himself, how Sarah’s crushing words had knocked the wind out of him
.
She would never know his surge of relief last night when she’d said,
we’re just friends and nothing more.
He’d
wanted to swoop her into his arms, kiss her in a way she’d never been kissed before…

“Did you talk to Sarah?” Ben asked.

“I did.” Ben was the one who worked in the store all day and picked up all the gossip. Not much stayed secret in a place like Hangtown. When rumor spread that a respectable lady named Sarah was seen visiting Hannibal Palmer’s fancy whorehouse, he immediately knew who she was and told Jack. “It’s a puzzlement. Why would a pretty little widow like Sarah visit such a place?”

A customer came to the counter and paid for a purchase. Jack waited until he left. “You were right, Ben. It was Sarah who paid two visits to Palmer’s establishment. You would never guess why…”

He told Ben about Florrie, the baby, the Chinese servant girl named Anming. “Sarah wants to talk to her. The madam who runs the place won’t let Sarah in again, but there’s got to be a way to reach her.”

Ben rubbed his white-bearded chin. “I dunno, Jack. You don’t want to tangle with a man like Hannibal Palmer. He’s got a lot of influence in this town.”

“According to Sarah, her sister believes he’s a kind-hearted philanthropist.”

Ben hooted with laughter. “Hannibal Palmer is rich as Croesus and as evil as they come. He’s one of the lucky ones—got to the diggings back in forty-nine when there really were nuggets lying all over the ground. He staked a claim on the American River that paid twelve thousand in gold in eleven days. Golden Hill, it’s called.”

“I’ve heard of it—one of the richest strikes in the gold country.”

“Yep, the dang thing’s still paying off. He didn’t stop there, though. Hannibal Palmer’s got his hand in all sorts of dirty dealings, from a string of brothels to jumping claims and running people off. Mostly foreigners. They say he’s the one responsible for running a bunch of Chinamen off their claims, and worse. He’d just as soon murder them as not. He employs a bunch of men, all with guns, to do his dirty work for him.”

“I don’t care if he’s the devil himself. How can we get to Anming?”

“It won’t be easy. They keep a close eye on them who work there. You say the girl’s Chinese?”

Jack nodded.

“Then she’s probably more a slave than a servant. I doubt they ever let her out. There are those who think a Chinese person is less than human, and Hannibal Palmer is one of them. He’s sure to have thugs with guns guarding his brothel.”

“I’ll think of something.”

Jack was about to turn away when his friend got a gleam in his eye. “Wait! I’ve got an idea.”

* * * *

The next few days, with Hiram’s help, Sarah spent her time baking apple pies and selling slices to her neighbors in the camp. She became an immediate success with the first one she sold. Drawn by the aroma of apples and cinnamon, hungry miners lined up while the pies still baked over the campfire. They gladly paid a dollar a slice, grumbling only when they couldn’t buy more. “If only I had a big oven,” Sarah complained, “I’d make a fortune.”