Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(19)

Becky drags one of the room’s two chairs to the center of the floor and sits like a queen on her throne, hands folded in her lap. “Our original plan to come to the city, get the house, and depart directly isn’t going to work,” she begins.

“I’ve got my freedom papers, but I don’t have any word on Adelaide,” Hampton adds. “The postmaster says it could be a few days or a few months until the mail comes next. It all depends on when the ships arrive. So I might have to stick around.”

“Hardwick’s going to break our agreement and cheat Glory out of its charter if he can,” I add.

This is news to some, including the Major, who frowns. “People could lose their homes,” he says.

“Once word gets out that our charter’s not coming,” Becky points out, “we’ll start having trouble with claim jumpers again. The promise of a proper town has given us a lot of protection.”

“Once California is declared a state,” Tom says, “we’ll have legal recourse. Until then, the contract gives him a loophole.”

“By then it might be too late,” I say.

Becky says, “But one thing at a time. Right now the problem I care about is my house. Tom, did you think of something?”

He shakes his head. “Hardwick wants my help with his auctions—many involving properties of dubious provenance—and he needs legal assistance managing the contracts and bills of sale to alleviate questions of legal ownership. Your house is currently stored in one of his warehouses. Working for him might give us another option for recovering it.”

Maybe that’s why Tom was so eager to hear Hardwick out—so he could help us. Henry was right; Tom would never betray us.

“What if we buy it?” I suggest. I reach out with my gold sense, assuring myself that all the money we need is right there. In my mind, my saddlebag shines brighter than a full moon.

“The auction is a week from Tuesday,” Becky says. “Staying almost two weeks in this city will cost a mother lode. And there’s no guarantee we’ll be the highest bidder.”

“Almost every item has a ‘buy now’ price,” Tom says. “I could find out the price for your house. It’s likely to cost twice as much as you’d pay for it at auction.”

“Let’s do it,” I say. “I’ll chip in. Let’s just buy it and get out of town.” And away from Hardwick and Frank Dilley and everything else that’s making me feel as tangled up as a squirrel’s nest. The wind blows outside, shaking the roof tiles. “There’s something bad here,” I say. “It’s like . . . it’s like a snake’s rattle, warning us to back off. Let’s buy the house, however much it costs, and get on our way.”

It’s a reasonable request. Everyone can see that, I’m sure.

But Becky’s frown deepens, and she raises one finger in the air.

“So let me get this straight,” she says. “My dear late husband, Mr. Joyner, already paid once in full to ship this house to California for me. Now the petty self-appointed bureaucrats of this territory want me to pay a second time to reacquire my property. And if I want it in a hurry, without the disadvantage of bidding against strangers after a costly stay away from home, then I have to pay for it a third time.”

“That’s about the size of it,” the Major grumbles.

“No!” She jabs her finger at him. “It’s wrong, and it won’t stand.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” he asks. The baby is nearly asleep on his shoulder. She has recently discovered the wonder that is her thumb, and her tiny cheek pulses with drowsy sucking.

“Have you decided to steal it back?” Tom asks, brightening.

“I can’t steal back what’s already mine,” she says. Olive, sensing the tension in the room, scoots over to lean against her mother. Becky strokes her daughter’s bright blond hair and says, “But I have a plan.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Henry says.

“Henry Meek,” she says. “How would you like to be my husband?”

“What?” Henry gulps.

“What?” the Major adds.

“She just wants someone to pose as her husband,” I say gently. “Remember? We discussed the possibility last fall in Glory.”

“I can do that,” the Major says, a little too eagerly.

Becky shakes her head. “The Joyner family is well known back in Tennessee, and it’s possible there are a few folks right here in San Francisco who are familiar with my late husband, at least distantly. Henry can pass for Andrew at a glance. But you, Wally, you’re . . .” A little smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “You’re as different as can be.”

Henry straightens. “I was quite the thespian in college,” he says. “And I would be honored to pose as your fine gentleman spouse.”

The Major does not seem convinced, but Becky brightens, saying, “Then this is what we’re going to do.”





Chapter Six


Noon the following day finds me and Jefferson sitting on the wagon bench in front of our hotel, keeping an eye on the Custom House across the plaza. Jeff’s arm is settled across my shoulders, and I lean into him, loving how easy it is now that we’re affianced. When I want to hold his hand, all I have to do is reach for it. When he wants to press his lips to the top of my head, he doesn’t hesitate.