Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(50)

I stare at him in horror. “I hope all your crewmates survived.”

“We got safely into the ship’s boats, not a soul lost. But the ship and all the cargo sank to the bottom of the ocean. Lost everything except the clothes on our backs.”

I rub Peony’s nose, and she nuzzles my face. I lost everything once, everything except this horse and Mama’s locket. “That sounds awful. I’m so glad you—”

“Lee?” A familiar female voice shouts down into the hold. Peony’s ears flick with recognition. “Lee?”

I drop the brush and run to answer. “Mary?”





Chapter Fourteen


My friend stands at the stable door, and even though she’s supposed to be back in Glory, taking care of the Worst Tavern, I’m so glad to see her. She’s wearing a printed wool challis dress, with beautiful patterns in swirling red and purple. I throw my arms around her and hug tight, before remembering she doesn’t much like to be hugged.

I step away sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m just really glad to see you.”

“I forgive you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“About a week after you left Glory, I missed you and decided to come to San Francisco to find you.”

I study her face. “That sounds like a bunch of hogwash.”

She frowns.

“Mary? What happened?”

She becomes fascinated by the bridle hanging beside Peony’s stall. “Nothing. I mean, I left before something could happen.”

“Mary! Tell me!”

Her frown deepens. “It wasn’t safe for me, all right? Once my friends left, everyone expected me to . . . be like I was before. Some of the men were . . . demanding. They just assumed that because I’m a girl from China, I’m in a certain line of work. So I left.”

“Oh. I see.” And I do. Mary was a prostitute before she joined up with us in Glory. At barely seventeen years old.

“This town is even bigger than when I was here last,” she says, but I won’t let her change the subject just yet.

“What about the Worst Tavern? Becky left you in charge.” She glares, and I hold up my hands in protest. “Not judging. Just asking.”

She sighs. “Old Tug and some of his Buckeyes are working the place in shifts—when they’re not working claims. They’re terrible cooks, but no worse than Becky.”

“And how is Tug? Wait . . . is he one of the fellows who—”

“No! He’s the best man in Glory, if you ask me. Kept an eye on me as best he could, but he couldn’t be there every waking moment. Even Wilhelm could only loom so much. But you and Becky and the Major—you’re the leaders in our town. And once you left . . . one of the Buckeyes’ claims was jumped. And a group came down from Rough and Ready trying to make trouble. Almost had our very own gunfight, but Tug talked them down. It’s just not the same without you all there.”

“So you set off for San Francisco. All on your own. Mary, that was dangerous! You could have—”

“Hey! I stowed away on a ship and traveled across an ocean all by myself. And if I recall correctly, you covered half a continent with nothing but your mare and a saddlebag. So don’t be lecturing me about it now!” Her eyes are bright and fierce, made more so by the meager lantern light.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry we left you there all alone.” It doesn’t set well, that Glory could turn out as lawless and frightening as any other frontier town. As if Glory’s residents are a parcel of naughty children who play dangerously when their mama and daddy are away. That could be Glory’s future, instead of the “sanctuary” Jefferson imagines.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Mary says. “I was the addle head who said she wanted to stay.” The fight melts out of her, and she leans against the stall, looking a little defeated. “If I go back there, it has to be with friends. And when I do, I think maybe I should find someone who will marry me. A single girl from China . . . it’s just not safe. You know, California isn’t a very good place, if you’re not white.”

She’ll get no argument from me.

“But now I’ve found you—which, by the way, was easy as pie. Everyone knew you from your description. Not many white women in San Francisco.”

This does not sit well at all.

She says, “I can stay here, right? You don’t mind?”

“Of course. Actually, we might be able to use your help with something.”

I fill her in on everything that has happened with Hardwick. By the time I’m finished, she’s grinning like a kid at Christmas. “This will be fun,” she says.

After Mary leaves to claim a cabin of her own, I go to my room and grab my saddlebag. It’s easier to heft than I’d like. I spent so much money buying the Charlotte. Doing something about Hardwick is proving more complicated and expensive than I expected.

I sit on the floor at the end of my cot, saddlebag between my feet. Inside is a small pile of gold. A few eagle coins remain, along with a handful of gold nuggets I could get assayed if I need more money—though plenty of folks here take raw gold in payment. Still, there’s more saddlebag than gold by weight.

Back in Glory, I practiced working with gold every day, and although I’ve had a few opportunities here in San Francisco to use my witchy powers, I need to be more disciplined about it. No one becomes a dab at something by laying about, Daddy always said.