Wilderness Courtship (8 page)

Struck by the significance of that thought, he stared. His heart leaped. Why had he not seen it before? The darker hair, the deep brown eyes, the stockier body…the child looked a lot more like him than he did Aaron. Had it happened to his family again? Had the wrong man been called “Father”?

He set his jaw, his anger building. If Naomi were in her normal state of mind, she would know. Even if she lied, he felt he’d be able to discern the truth from her words and expression. But now that she was as incapacitated as a babe herself, he might never find out.

Did he really want to know?
Oh, yes.
If he could prove to all concerned that Jacob was not Aaron’s son, perhaps he could then convince Louis to leave the boy alone and let him and his mother escape.

Was such a thing possible? Thorne’s remembered guilt was intense. He had not meant to sin. Even though he had not seen it as such at the time, he’d understood that what had happened was morally wrong. That was why he had begged Naomi to break off with Aaron and marry him, instead.

She had stolen into his room late at night, after he and Aaron had been drinking heavily to celebrate Aaron’s recent betrothal, and had slipped under the covers beside him before he had realized she was even there.

In the ensuing frenzy, Thorne had lost his self-control. He had rued the mistake almost immediately.

“We—we can make it right,” Thorne had told her as she had started to leave his bed. “Marry me, Naomi. I can make you happy.”

“On a smelly old boat? At sea? Not in a million years.” He remembered the scorn in her expression, in her tone. She’d swept her slim, silk-clad arm in an arc that encompassed the lavishly appointed bedroom suite. “I want all this, Thorne. A mansion, money, the prestige of becoming an Ashton of the New York Ashtons.”

“Then why did you…?”

“Because you’re a beautiful man and I fancied you,” she’d said with a half smile. “You’re going away tomorrow and I wanted to say a personal goodbye, one I’d never forget.”

Thorne had arisen, gathered his things and left the house hours before the rest of the family had awakened. Aaron, however, had followed him to the dock and had insisted on an explanation of why Naomi was sobbing inconsolably and why he was leaving New York so abruptly.

Although Thorne had not gone into detail about their assignation, he had confessed to asking Naomi for her hand in marriage. When Aaron had struck him in response, he had simply stood stoically and accepted the punishment, knowing he deserved much worse.

Later, when he had nearly drowned at sea and had turned to God for salvation, he had repented and had believed his sin was forgiven.

He still believed that. Now, however, it looked as if the consequences of that sin had come back to change his life even more than he’d dreamed. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

Leaning his elbows on the railing of the upper deck, he clasped his hands and stared into the distance at the lighthouse that marked the deep water entrance to the bay. His thoughts spun and wandered like an oarless rowboat caught in a cyclone.

If what he now imagined was true, he was partly responsible. Not only had his indiscretion possibly hindered his brother’s marital bliss, it might have created the very reason for Louis’s vendetta. Even if the old man did not suspect what Jacob’s origins might be, the boy’s looks may have reminded him too much of Thorne as a child and therefore predisposed him to feel hatred.

“So, what do I do now, Father,” he prayed in a whisper. “What do I do?”

The answer came immediately, not as a spoken word but as a firm assurance. His course was set. He would follow the plan that most benefited his brother’s family. Then, if Aaron returned, he’d be able to tell him he had acted honorably. This time.

Chapter Eight

C
harity was enough aware of Thorne’s moods to realize that he was tormented by something. What could be bothering him, however, was a puzzlement. If anyone in their party had reason to act sad or upset about leaving San Francisco, it should be
her.

Bidding her father and his intended bride farewell at the hotel had been a heartrending experience. Softhearted Annabelle had gotten teary-eyed and even Emory had sniffled when Charity had hugged the two of them goodbye. Their wedding was only a few weeks off but she’d had to depart with Thorne’s party so she had promised to celebrate with them when she returned. If she returned.

That recent memory caused her to recall equally reluctant goodbyes when she and her sister had packed all their worldly goods and had left Ohio by wagon train. In the ensuing four years, Charity felt as if she had lived a whole lifetime and was now wise far beyond her true age. Maybe she was. She’d certainly lived through more than enough danger and trauma to last her the remainder of her time on earth.

And
now?
she asked herself. It was foolish to worry about the future when she had no control over it, but her active imagination kept suggesting scenarios right out of her worst nightmares. What if they became separated? What if Naomi wandered off and got lost? What if the man who had attempted to steal Jacob tried again—and succeeded?

Charity tightened her hold on the child until he began to squirm.

She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to squeeze you too hard. I was just giving you a special hug.”

“Okay.” Putting his arms back around her neck, he ducked inside the brim of her bonnet and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

Laughing lightly, she stood at the outside railing on the upper deck and pointed. “Look over there? See the new lighthouse on Alcatraz Island? The light in it had to come all the way across the ocean from France. Maybe one of Uncle Thorne’s ships brought it.”

“He has sails on his ship,” the boy said, looking up at the fluted smokestacks of the steamer. “It’s big.”

“I know. Did you have fun riding on it?”

“Uh-huh. I even got to turn the wheel.”

“Good for you. Was it hard to do?”

The dark curls bounced as he shook his head vigorously. “Nope. Uncle Thorne helped.”

“I imagine he did.” Grinning, Charity was once again amazed at how quickly the child’s zest for life was able to lift her sagging spirits. Seeing the world through his eyes gave everything a lovely quality of newness and a sense of discovery that was missing in the jaded views of most adults, including her.

Watching others waving farewell to loved ones on the docks, she wished her father had been free to come down to the shore to see them off. Unfortunately, Emory and Mrs. Montgomery would be up to their elbows in the hotel kitchen by now, preparing to feed the guests. That kind of endless toil was one part of Charity’s daily life in San Francisco that she was positive she would not miss.

Beneath her feet the painted wooden deck trembled from the vibrations of the engine. Pale smoke billowed from the
Grand Republic’
s twin stacks. A shrill whistle near the pilothouse suddenly came alive and blew two long blasts, making her jump.

Seeing the boy’s equally wide-eyed response, she was quick to speak. “My, my, that was loud, wasn’t it? I think that means we’re about to cast off. Shall we go over to the other side and watch the paddle wheel turn?”

“Yeah!”

Charity saw Thorne and Naomi standing together at the far railing as she approached. It was clear from Thorne’s posture that he was being protective of the other woman. Charity knew that was as it should be, yet she experienced an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Instead of surprising them, she announced her arrival with a pleasant, “Hello again. Can we see the paddle wheel from over here? I promised to show it to Jacob.”

Thorne stepped aside to make room for her and the boy next to an ornately carved, white-painted post supporting the roof above that portion of the passenger deck. “Take my place,” he said. “I’ve seen it all before.”

To Charity’s astonishment he stepped close behind her as soon as she had joined Naomi. His presence was so strong, so dizzying, she wondered briefly if she should pass him the child for safety’s sake.

Instead, she sat the little boy on the railing with his back to her and held on to him tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally slip off.

The
Grand Republic
hissed and moaned and creaked while it slowly backed away from its moorings. Brown pelicans, startled by the noise, took flight from the ends of the piers. Flocks of soaring, diving gulls followed the boat’s turbulent wake, squawking and vying for the best positions close to the water.

The paddle wheel soon reversed directions, then picked up speed as the packet boat headed out to sea. It began to lightly splash those passengers brave enough to remain too close. Jacob giggled and swatted at the salty drops.

“We’d better move back,” Thorne said. With his arm around Naomi’s shoulders, he guided her away through the dispersing crowd.

Charity scooped up the child and followed. She couldn’t help noticing that Thorne seemed uneasy, as well as morose.

As soon as he had settled Naomi on a white-painted bench beside the pilothouse, Charity touched his sleeve and drew him aside. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, mister. I told you I can tell when a person isn’t being truthful. You’ve been acting strangely ever since we boarded.”

He nodded as he scanned the crowd milling around on the passenger deck. “All right. One of our friends from the hotel is also aboard.”

She gasped. “Not the man you were chasing!”

“No. Not him. The one who was listening to us talk in the kitchen yesterday.”

“He did say he was looking for a boat headed north, too.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’d meant to ask what you’d found out this morning and didn’t have a good opportunity. Had that man you chased across the roof shown up at the hotel again?”

“No. Nobody has seen hide nor hair of him since yesterday. When the clerk went up to check his room, I went with him. The room was empty except for the usual furnishings. Everything personal was gone.”

Her brow knit. “How? If he never came back after he tried to steal Jacob, how could he have gotten upstairs to pick up his belongings?”

“I haven’t an earthly idea.” Thorne removed his hat and raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Did you notice if he seemed overly friendly with any of the other guests?”

“Such as the one who’s on board, you mean?”

“Particularly him.”

“I’m afraid not. They may have spoken in passing from time to time but many of our lodgers did that. I never saw those two in the same place except at meals.”

“Okay. We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, for the present,” Thorne said. “I’ve had our bags taken to the stateroom I reserved. All except mine, that is. I’ll be sleeping in a chair in the saloon with some of the other men.”

“You don’t have a berth?”

“No. I could only find one available room on a boat that was sailing immediately. Since the episode with Jacob, I thought it was more important to leave quickly than to wait for better accommodations.”

“That makes sense.” Charity sighed. “All right. I’ll need to know where the facility is for our little man pretty soon.”

“There’ll be a commode in your suite. Use that. I don’t want any of you wandering around outside unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Don’t even trust your steward.”

She lowered her voice. “Do you still think we’re in danger?”

“I don’t know. I’d rather assume so and find out I was being overly cautious than be lax and suffer the consequences, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just that I have never seen the coast and I’ve heard it’s beautiful. I thought it might be enjoyable to watch it pass. If you think it’s unwise to do so, I won’t venture out.”

“I can call for you from time to time,” Thorne suggested. “If you don’t mind
walking out
with me.”

Charity blushed at the intimate connotation of his offer. “I wasn’t hinting that I wanted to be treated as if you and I were
courting,
I assure you.”

“I know you weren’t.” He smiled wryly. “If I had thought so, I wouldn’t have offered to escort you.”

Thorne had guided Charity, Naomi and Jacob to their cabin, made sure the women would lock the door, then had proceeded to the saloon to reconnoiter.

Leaving the damp, still-foggy atmosphere on deck, he entered the interior seating and dining area. Smoke from a multitude of tobacco users was drifting in visible layers that rippled and eddied every time a door was opened and closed.

The saloon was clearly designed more for the usual pleasure of gentlemen than of ladies. Yes, there were side chairs upholstered in red velvet and matching swags with gold braid and tassels decorating the windows, yet the room was definitely a masculine bastion, as witnessed by its almost exclusively male occupants. Most of the men were bellied up to the bar or seated around the small, rimmed tables and bending an elbow in a show of camaraderie.

Thorne had not taken another drink of whiskey or any other spirits since the fateful night he and Aaron had gotten drunk together and Naomi had come between them. The only time being a teetotaler bothered him was in instances like this, where he thought it best to try to blend in.

He approached the bar and leaned against it sideways, not ordering until he was pressed to do so. “A shot of whatever you’re serving,” he said, knowing he wasn’t going to actually drink it.

“Yes, sir. Coming up.”

Thorne paid the bartender, then nonchalantly fingered his glass while he continued to size up his fellow travelers. Most were citified, as was to be expected on this first-class level of the steamer. Those who had to work for their passage or who had been unable to pay much fare were delegated to the lower decks, in second and third class, with the cargo and livestock.

There were friendly card games already underway at several of the round tables where meals would later be served to those who could afford them. Judging by the appearances of the players, none was professional, although a few seemed to take the games of chance rather seriously.

“Speaking of serious.” Thorne muttered to himself. Looking across the room he easily spotted Cyrus Satterfield conversing with another individual. The second man was a shade taller than Satterfield and appeared to be thinner.

Thorne stiffened. Could that be the same man he’d chased over the rooftop? Since both travelers were wearing overcoats it was impossible to tell if the second was as lanky as the scoundrel who had recently tried to abduct Jacob.

Leaving his drink untouched, Thorne strode across the room toward the other men. Now that the
Grand Republic
was underway, there was no avenue of escape, short of jumping overboard and swimming to shore. If this fellow was the one he sought, the one who had bothered his helpless nephew, Thorne was more than prepared to help him leap over the side.

Without introduction or even a polite hello, he grabbed the thinner man by the shoulder and spun him around, much to the astonishment of those passengers standing close by.

Thorne immediately knew he’d made a mistake. This fellow was tall and wiry, all right, but he had a thick, well-waxed mustache that must have taken a year or more to grow and shape so elegantly.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne said quickly. “I thought you were someone else.”

Giving him the once-over and frowning, the man he had accosted simply walked away. That left Thorne facing only Cyrus Satterfield.

“Do you always come on so strong?” Satterfield asked.

“If I think I need to.”

“Well,” he said, chuckling wryly, “in that case, remind me to stay out of your way.”

“Leave my sister-in-law alone and we’ll have no more trouble,” Thorne told him.

“My error.” The thickset man gave a slight bow and arched an eyebrow. “I had understood that the lady was a widow or I never would have offered her my arm.”

“
If
my brother is dead, and I’m not saying that he is, his widow is my concern, not yours.”

“Not a very friendly attitude,” Satterfield said, tipping his head back to blow smoke into the already-thick atmosphere. “But have it your way. The widow is all yours.”

The last was spoken with a sneer that was almost insulting enough to prompt Thorne to take a swing at the pompous fool. He refrained. No sense getting into a melee and drawing attention to himself or his party. If Satterfield was a man of his word and did keep his distance, no further action would be necessary.

If he broke his promise to leave Naomi alone, however, Thorne was more than ready to impress him with his folly, to whatever degree the situation demanded.

Charity was still tense and jumpy and the closeness of the tiny cabin did nothing to soothe her nerves. Neither did the restless little boy. The projected journey of six or seven days and nights promised to be most trying. Although she was able to catch glimpses of the passing terrain as the sun rose and eventually burned off the coastal fog, she couldn’t see nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity. Or Jacob’s.

Finally she decided to don her shawl, open the cabin door and stand there with him in her arms so they could both safely observe the changing landscape.

Beams of the rising sun bathed the coastal hills in golden-green light. Mighty live oaks stood in groves like sentinels over the vast ocean beyond their shores.

There was raw beauty in the ruggedness of the coast with very little evidence that man had altered God’s handiwork. Here and there, Charity caught a glimpse of what could have been signs of settlers or Indians but by and large the landscape was unsullied.

She was still marveling at the passing scenery when Thorne appeared on deck and approached her.

“I thought you promised to stay in your cabin,” he said gruffly.