Chapter 5
San Francisco, California
“Ally.” Hazel shook my shoulder. “Wake up. Something’s wrong.”
I opened my eyes and found Hazel on her knees next to me. My pulse jumped as I sat up. “What is it? Fire?”
“No.” Her blue eyes were large and frightened. “Something’s wrong with Johnnie.”
Frowning, I followed her pointed finger and found Johnnie sitting on the stool he’d occupied the morning before. His brown eyes were troubled as he stared at me, but he did not move or speak.
Daylight seeped through the canvas walls, telling me it was morning. But where was Bess? Yesterday, she’d already been in the kitchen working on breakfast when I woke up.
“Is something wrong, Johnnie?”
He didn’t respond but kept looking at me with those terrified eyes.
I rose off the pallet and walked to him. “Where is your mother?”
His lips began to quiver, but that was the only reply he gave.
The door to the front room opened, and Paddy appeared. Half of his face was lifted in a smile that slowly faded as he looked around the kitchen. When his gaze rested on me, he asked, “B-B-Bess?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up, and Johnnie was sitting here, but I haven’t seen her.”
He looked at the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, but fear seemed to keep him in his place.
Had Bess snuck out after I fell asleep? I had probably only been sleeping in this path for thirty minutes or so.
The back door opened like it had yesterday, and Sam appeared. He paused and looked at each of us, then at the cold cookstove and the empty worktable. “Where is Bess?”
Neither Paddy nor Johnnie answered, so I finally said, “We don’t know.”
Sam stepped into the kitchen and walked over the pallet that Hazel and I had slept on. He pushed open the bedroom door and entered Bess’s room.
“Bess?” he asked, his voice filtering through the canvas wall. “Are you feeling poorly?”
There was no answer as he moved away from the door and farther into the room. All I could see from my vantage point was the end of the large bed.
“Bess?” he asked again, a little louder.
Again—there was only silence.
“Paddy!” Sam yelled.
Paddy ran into the bedroom, and I followed.
Bess was lying on the bed, unresponsive.
Sam knelt beside her, his hand on her cheek. “Bess, wake up.”
Paddy was on the other side of the bed as he stared in shock. “She-she-she dead?”
“Wake up,” Sam said again, his voice tight with emotion and panic. “You can’t leave us here without you, Bess.”
My eyes were wide as I put my hand over my mouth. “Is she dead?” I whispered.
He slowly pulled his hand away and lowered his head, the answer written in the slope of his shoulders and the grief on his face.
Bess was dead.
“Doc-c-ctor.” Paddy pushed me to get out of the bedroom, frantic and desperate.
“It’s too late,” Sam said halfheartedly. “She’s been dead for hours.”
Paddy either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He ran out of the building without closing the back door.
I stood where Paddy had pushed me, shaky and uncertain.
What had happened? Why had Bess still died when there had not been a fire?
Johnnie sat at the table like a statue, though his eyes had filled with tears and his face revealed the harsh reality he was facing.
Hazel crossed the room to embrace him. She hugged him tight, even though his hands were still resting in his lap. Slowly, Johnnie closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and wept.
They were so young, so na?ve and innocent—yet life had taken so much from both of them. Tears stung my eyes as the injustice of it broke my heart. I turned my gaze toward God. Why did He allow suffering in His world? Where was He in moments like this, when life was unfair and uncertain?
“Leave me,” Sam said, his voice breaking with emotion.
I stepped out and closed the door, not sure what to do.
There were boarders upstairs, including Father, who would want breakfast, and Johnnie and Hazel would need to eat.
I didn’t know the first thing about lighting a cookstove or preparing a meal, especially one on such a large scale.
But there was no one else who would do it.
More importantly, I needed to comfort Johnnie and reassure Hazel—
The back door slammed open, and I jumped.
Cole Goodman stood over the threshold, his eyes wild with worry. “Where is she? Where’s Bess? I saw Paddy running down the street, and he told me something is wrong with her.”
It hadn’t taken long to realize Sam didn’t like Cole, and probably for good reason. If Cole was having an affair with Bess, it made perfect sense.
I didn’t respond, so Cole stepped over the pallet and pushed open the bedroom door.
Sam was still kneeling next to the bed as he held Bess’s hand.
He looked up at the sudden entrance with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks.
His sorrow immediately turned to rage as he leapt to his feet and grabbed Cole by the throat, slamming him against the door frame.
“You would show your face here?” he yelled.
Cole clawed at Sam’s hand, his face turning red. “I loved her.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and he shook with fury.
I grabbed the children and pulled them to the opposite corner of the room near the cookstove, drawing them into my arms as fear wound around my heart. Would Sam still try to kill Cole and end up hanging for it?
Johnnie and Hazel trembled in my arms as I attempted to shield them from the conflict.
“You used her,” Sam said through bared teeth. “That’s not love.”
Cole gagged and sputtered as his eyes bulged, but he was no match for Sam’s immense strength.
“You’re not worth it.” Sam let Cole go, and the man crumpled to the floor, gasping and reaching for his neck. “I only wish I had been there that night, and then I would have been justified in killing you.”
Cole tried to get on his hands and knees.
Sam watched him with disgust. “Get off my property.” He rested his hand on the pistol he always wore at his side. “And if I ever see you here again, I will not be so kind.”
Hazel whimpered, and I tried to shush her, hoping we didn’t draw Sam’s attention as Cole stumbled to his feet and left the building.
Sam’s broad chest rose and fell on deep breaths as he slowly lifted his gaze to mine.
Anger and grief mingled in his brown eyes, but it slowly faded and was replaced with sadness.
“Johnnie.” Sam’s voice caught as tears filled his eyes again.
Johnnie pulled away from me and raced across the kitchen.
Sam squatted and captured the boy, lifting him off his feet in a hug so fierce and protective, it took my breath away.
Moments ago, Johnnie had been cowering from fear, but he clearly wasn’t afraid of Sam. The boy loved his father with abandon, and the father loved his son equally.
Sam returned to the bedroom with Johnnie, closing the door behind them without a word.
Hazel and I sat in the corner of the room, silent and unmoving.
What kind of place had God brought us to? These people were rough and scary—and surprising.
“We’ll need to try to make something to eat,” I whispered. “And check on Father.”
“I don’t like this place anymore, Ally,” she said as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I want to go home.”
“I don’t like it, either.” I held her for another moment, wishing with all my heart that we could leave. But it was too late to go back.
Paddy returned with the doctor as I tried to start a fire in the cookstove after checking on Father. He was much the same as the day before, though a bit more comfortable in the bunk bed. I didn’t tell him about Bess because I didn’t want any of the other men to hear. Not yet. Not from me.
After the doctor arrived, Sam, Paddy, and Johnnie stepped out of the bedroom while he examined her. Without a word, Sam lit the fire and stoked it while Paddy went for the water, his silent pain so intense, it made me want to weep.
These three men had loved Bess deeply, though I wasn’t certain what Paddy’s relationship to her had been. Were they siblings? Did his paralyzed face have something to do with his inability to speak? Either way, his devotion to Sam, Bess, and Johnnie was unmistakable.
Johnnie and Hazel sat on the floor together, and Hazel simply held his hand. His tears had dried, but grief was raw in his eyes. When he leaned his head on her shoulder, she gently patted his cheek. “If we had a kitty,” she whispered, “that would make us both happier.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d cook something for the children,” Sam said, his voice gruff but gentle. His British accent was cultured, though it didn’t match his rough exterior. “I’ll let the men know there won’t be any meals today.”
I nodded, not willing to tell him I didn’t know how to cook. It would only complicate matters. I’d find a way to make do.
As he worked on the fire, I noticed a strange scar on the pad of his right thumb. It wasn’t large, but it had smooth edges and was easy enough to see. I didn’t want to stare, but curiosity got the better of me.
It looked like it had been made with a branding iron and was in the shape of an M.
Our gazes caught, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
He pulled his hand back and nodded at the stove. “That should do.”
Paddy came back with the water, and without asking, he started to make the coffee. I looked through the store of supplies, unsure what to do with the ingredients. When I found the eggs in the cupboard, I decided to scramble them.
Sam’s voice carried through the canvas walls from the front room as he told the men there would be no meals today. Several of them complained and asked why, but he didn’t respond.
When he reentered the kitchen, he glanced at the bedroom door and then went to the table and took a seat. Putting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and clasped his hands, bringing them up to his mouth.
I cracked eggs into a bowl as Paddy finished making the coffee, and then he began to pace.
It wasn’t long before the bedroom door opened, and the doctor came out. He wasn’t the same man who had examined my father the day we arrived. This man was older, with a kinder, wiser face.
Sam rose.