Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(49)

“I don’t know,” Becky says. “It seems far-fetched.”

“He mentioned something last night,” I say. All the faces turn toward me. “I accused him of not respecting the law. He told me he respected laws so much, he wanted to make them.”

Henry leans back in his chair and folds his arms, as if putting a period on his argument.

“This is a good thing, right?” the Major says. “He’ll be out of California and out of our hair. We can go back to living our normal life.”

“How can you think that?” I snap.

The Major looks at me, genuinely confused.

“He paid to exterminate Indians—whole tribes of them, all of their families, destroyed. Muskrat is probably dead, and it’s because of him. He ignores the rights of free men, and profits off buying and selling people’s lives. He takes advantage of the poor and people without legal protection, and gets rich by using the law to rob people of their hard-earned wages.” I point across the table at Becky and the kids. “He steals from widows and children. It’s bad enough that he does it out here, but what if he’s in charge of the whole country? Think about everyone he’ll hurt.”

By the end, I’m shouting. My face is hot with anger. The longest silence yet follows, broken only by the uncomfortable shifting of Becky’s children in their chairs.

“Ma, may I be excused?” Andy whispers.

“Olive, take your brother, and the two of you go play in our room for now,” Becky says.

Olive quickly gathers up her brother and flees.

“You’re right, Lee,” the Major says softly. “It was a thoughtless thing for me to say.”

I overreacted, and I’m fixing to apologize, but Jefferson says, “Once Hardwick leaves California, we can’t touch him. The minute he sets sail on the Argos, our chance to stop him is gone.”

“The auction is Tuesday,” the Major says. “How can we stop him before then?”

“I wish I knew.” I stand abruptly, gather my dirty dishes, and carry them to the washtub, where I stack them loudly.

Jefferson brings his dishes over. “Do you want to talk about it?” he whispers.

Guilt twinges in my chest. I’m being rude. “No, I want to think. But thank you.” I should scrape and wash my own dishes, but I leave them and flee down to the hold to see Peony.

It’s neat and tidy, with four separate stalls and space to store the wagon. The stalls have fresh straw, and somebody has mucked them out recently, so it smells familiar—like the clean barn my family always kept. The last time I set foot in that barn, I was hiding from Hiram, waiting for my chance to escape.

And once again, it only serves to remind me that this is not home. Not really. Not yet. No place can be home until we’re safe from Hardwick and people like him.

Peony snorts when she sees me, shuffling eagerly. I imagine she’s tired of being cooped up in here. I find a brush and groom her.

“Sorry I’m not taking you out for fresh air,” I say. “You deserve better. We all deserve better.” She nuzzles my hand for the treat I didn’t bring, so I spend extra time cleaning her coat, especially the little swirl of hair on her withers she likes brushed just so.

Thumps on the ramp signal someone stepping down into the hold, and I have the urge to hide, but within a split second I realize that hiding will not stop Hardwick or solve any of my problems.

Melancthon approaches with that peculiar rolling gait of his, like he’s compensating for waves that aren’t there anymore. He pauses when he sees me.

“You did a good job down here,” I tell him. “The horses seem as comfortable as can be expected.”

He nods. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I was around any kind of creature that couldn’t swim.”

“Peony swims just fine. Most horses do.”

“Huh. Haven’t worked with horses since my canal-digging days. Would rather be on the water, though.”

“Weren’t you ever afraid?” I ask.

“Of horses?”

“No, of sinking, when you were sailing the ocean.” I touch the smooth, curved hull with my fingertips, thinking of the ship Hardwick will sail to New York. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t make it that far. Which I recognize for a bit of meanness, considering all the other people aboard. “This doesn’t look like much to keep between you and the bottom of the sea.”

He grins, pounding the hull with his fist. “Those are three-inch planks, and the hull is double planked, so that’s six inches of solid oak between us and the water. We needed it, the one time we took her around Cape Horn.”

“So it’s hard to break the hull of a ship like this.”

He rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Not if you drive it onto rocks, or get rammed by another ship, I suppose. But that takes a particular kind of bad luck. Although I once had the misfortune to be aboard a ship that capsized, so I figure I’ve used up my bad luck for a spell.”

“Capsized?”

“Another whaling ship, the Salem—got caught in swells in the North Atlantic. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but we only had half a hold full of cargo, and a new cargo master who didn’t know better, and the barrels broke loose in the waves. Shifted from one side to the other, before we could stop them, making the ship roll more with every wave until it rolled right over.”