time stopping at pharmacies to buy jugs of fuel. Imagine the inconvenience.”
“No more so than having to feed and water horses,” she countered. “You should know all about that. Those fire horses you care for are beautiful animals. When they race through the streets as a team it’s a thrilling sight.”
“How would you know?”
She tittered behind her gloved hand. “I have seen them in action many times. And you driving them, if you must know.”
“Have you, now? That’s a bit of a surprise.” When he turned slightly farther and smiled at her, he saw her gather herself and raise her chin.
“I can’t understand why it should be. Station #4 is not too far from Father’s bank and it is impossible to ignore that noisy, clanging bell and that steaming engine racing through the streets at such reckless speeds.”
“It’s only reckless if unheeding pedestrians step in front of us. The bell is meant to be enough warning for any sensible person.”
To Michael’s surprise, she agreed with him. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t mean to sound disparaging. I think your profession is most honorable.”
One more quick glance showed him that she was smiling behind the veil and it was all he could do to keep from breaking into a face-splitting grin at her praise. There was something impish yet charming about the banker’s daughter. Always had been, if he were totally honest with himself.
Someday, Michael vowed silently, he would find a suitable woman with a spirit like Tess’s and give her a proper courting. He had no chance with Tess herself, of course. That went without saying. Still, she couldn’t be the only appealing lass in San Francisco. When he was good and ready he’d begin to look around. There was plenty of time. Most men waited to wed until they could properly look after a wife and family.
If he’d been a rich man’s son instead of the offspring of a lowly sailor, however, perhaps he’d have shown a personal interest in Miss Clark or one of her socialite friends already.
Would he really have? he asked himself. He doubted it. There was a part of Michael that was repelled by the affectations of the wealthy, by the way they lorded it over the likes of him and his widowed mother. He knew Tess couldn’t help that she’d been born into a life of luxury, yet he still found her background off-putting.
Which is just as well, he reminded himself. It was bad enough that they were likely to be seen out and about on this particular evening. If the maid Annie Dugan hadn’t been along for the ride, he knew he’d have had a lot more questions to answer; answers that could, if misinterpreted, lead to his ruination. His career with the fire department depended upon a sterling reputation as well as a Spartan lifestyle and strong work ethic.
Michael had labored too long and hard to let anything spoil his pending promotion to captain. He set his jaw and grasped the reins more tightly. Not even the prettiest, smartest, most persuasive girl in San Francisco was going to get away with doing that.
He sighed, realizing that Miss Tess Clark fit that flowery description to a T.
Tess settled back on the velvet tufted upholstery in the rear seat of the cabriolet and watched as they finally turned south on Van Ness and approached the center of the city. The streets in this district were well lit and broad enough to accommodate plenty of traffic, yet still seemed terribly crowded.
Parallel sets of trolley tracks with a power line buried between them ran down the center of the thoroughfare. These lines sliced their way through the cobblestones in much the same way the cable for the cable cars did, except for the fact that the trolleys were driven by electric power. Traffic increased rapidly and included quite a few of the infernal motorcars that Michael had spoken so strongly against.
Tess leaned forward and placed one gloved hand on the low back of the seat near his elbow while pointing with her other. “There’s an automobile. And two more. See? They seem to be much easier to maneuver, particularly over the ruts of the streetcar tracks, no matter how the driver approaches them.”
“That’s only because most buggy wheels are narrower,” he argued, carefully maneuvering the cabriolet between a parked dray and one of the modern streetcars as it passed. “I can’t believe how some people drive with no concern for anyone else. It’s little wonder there are so many accidents these days.”
“Father says the motorcars will put an end to that because there won’t be any horses to get frightened and bolt.” She noted how hard Michael was working to control her spirited mare in the presence of the unusual, sputtering vehicles. Some of the other teamsters were having similar difficulties. “See what I mean?”
“All I see is that there’s probably not going to be a good place to leave this rig near the pavilion,” he replied. “Would it be all right if I let you ladies off near the door and then looked for a spot around the corner? There should be more room on Market Street, as long as the drovers have their cattle rounded up and moved on by now.”
“Of course,” Tess said, hoping her inflection wouldn’t inadvertently reveal a desire to remain near the handsome fireman. “You can stop anywhere. I see the banner. This is where we belong.”
“In your opinion.” Michael huffed. “I don’t believe I have ever seen so many women gathered in one place before. There must be thousands.”
Tess tensed. “Wait. How will you find us again if we go inside without you?”
“I don’t know. If you weren’t wearing that enormous hat I could probably spot you in the crowd by your pr— By your hair.”
“You were going to say pretty, weren’t you?” She smiled, amused by the way his cheeks grew more ruddy in the light from the streetlamps surrounding the enormous meeting hall.
“It would be wrong of me to mention such things, Miss Clark.”
That made her laugh softly. “But I would find it delightful if you did. Does that embarrass you, Michael?”
“Of course not.”
He brought the buggy to a halt as close to the curb as possible, then quickly helped both young women alight and saw them to the curb before once again climbing into the driver’s seat.
“Take off your hat after you get inside,” he called over the din of the crowd. “I’ll find you.”
She knew that her eyes must be twinkling because she was keenly amused when she shouted back, “And how will you do that, sir?”
Michael paused just long enough to lean down from his perch and say more privately, “By your beautiful, dark red hair.” Then he flicked the reins and the horse took off.
Beside her, Tess heard Annie sigh. “Oh, my. That man’s smile could melt butter in the middle of winter.” The shorter girl had clasped her hands over her heart and was clearly mooning.
For some reason Annie’s overt interest in Michael needled Tess. She knew it was foolish to allow herself to be bothered, since the maid was a far more likely social choice for him to make than she was.
Nevertheless, Tess was surprised and a little saddened by a twinge of jealousy. What was wrong with her? Was she daft? Just because a man was stalwart and handsome and so glib-tongued that his very words sent shivers up
