Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(18)

“The room’s barely larger than a wardrobe,” Becky says, hunching over to avoid the bare rafters. “But the children have endured worse.”

The Major shifts the baby to his shoulder and pats her on the back to burp her. “There were only two rooms available. Twenty-five dollars each per week, rent paid in advance. I took them both. Apparently a fire took out a lot of buildings last month.” He points up to the bare rafters. “They barely finished this place before they moved on to the next. We’ll have to sleep in shifts.”

“Oh, dear,” says Becky, in a tone that I’m pretty sure means This won’t do. “San Francisco has not been kind to us so far. At least Hampton got his freedom papers!”

Hampton waves them triumphantly.

I sense someone approach and turn to see Henry, clean-shaven and hair slicked neat as you please. A silk cravat hangs around his neck, a brighter blue than fashionable.

I say, “I thought you’d be out looking for a teaching job.”

“The new state constitution requires public schools,” Henry says, “but it seems no one has gotten around to building them. I was told the first school will be built in Monterey.”

“So what are you going to do?” I ask.

“Some wealthy white and Mexican families hire tutors, so I’ve set up a few meetings.”

“Poor Henry,” I say. “Sounds like you’ll have to get up early for a change.”

“No. I’ll meet them tonight.” His eyes sparkle. “In gambling dens.”

“Oh, dear,” Becky says again.

“You’re a terrible gambler,” I point out. “Even I can tell when you have a good hand.”

Henry blinks. “I’m only doing it to make connections, of course.”

Jefferson, having stabled the horses and wagon, makes his way down the hall with our bags. He drops my saddlebag on the floor with a heavy thump. “What did you pack, Lee, a bunch of rocks? Oh, hello, Henry.”

“Have you seen Tom?” Henry asks. “I hope he had better luck than I did.”

I say, “He’s interviewing for a post with Hardwick. And I have a bad feeling.” I explain everything that happened.

“You don’t have to worry about Tom,” Henry assures me.

“I wish I could be sure. He’s . . . different.”

“Working in your uncle’s mine was hard for him. He . . .” Henry hesitates, considering. “Well, he gets wound up at night and can’t sleep because of it.”

“I can understand that,” I admit.

“Tom has been hard to read lately, it’s true,” Jefferson says.

“He’s the one who should be a gambler,” the Major points out. “He has such a poker face.”

“No one should be a gambler,” Becky says.

Henry squeezes my arm. “Give Tom some time. I know he’s intently focused right now. He thinks we’ve got a better chance to practice our professions here, and the sooner we get to work, the more of a head start we’ll have on everyone else.”

I can’t help the little sigh that escapes. “Sometimes I just wish things could go back to the way they were, when it was just us, relying on each other. Looking to stake our claims and make a better life for ourselves.”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Henry says. “We’re just staking a different set of claims now.”

“But if the three of you stay in San Francisco, I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too,” says little Andy from the floor. I should have realized he was listening carefully to every word. “I’ll miss you the most.”

“Then you must continue to work on your letters,” Henry says. “So we can write to each other every week.”

The stairs creak, and Jefferson says, “Hey, Tom. We were just talking about you.”

“Speculating on my prospects of future employment?” Tom asks as he strides toward us.

“Praising your immaculate presentation and good looks,” Henry says.

“Don’t let me interrupt you then,” he says dryly.

“Did Hardwick offer you a job?” I ask.

“He did.”

“Did you take it?” My voice is a lot louder than I intend.

Tom pauses. “I asked for time to consider his generous offer.”

I want to follow up, demand to know why he didn’t reject it outright, but a door to another room slams open. A large man reeking of booze and wearing only an undershirt, thrusts his bald head into the hall. “If you all want to have a confab, that’s why God invented parlors. Get yourselves downstairs and use one—some of us are trying to sleep!”

He slams the door shut again.

After a brief pause, Henry whispers. “Anyone else tempted to start a rousing chorus of ‘Used Up Man’?”

Becky can’t hide her grin as she waves us all into the tiny room, then closes the door behind us. We take seats on the cots, the two small chairs, the floor. I grab a spot beneath the single window. The rough wood of the unfinished wall makes my back itch. Jefferson squeezes in beside me, and Andrew comes over to show off his wooden animals. Jeff agrees that they are very fine animals and makes an appropriate variety of barnyard and woodland sounds, which somehow makes me want to kiss him even more than usual.