Thorne was astonished that the slightly built young woman had agreed so easily. Now that she had, he was having second thoughts. Was he doing the right thing by including her in their traveling party? He knew having a female companion was best for Naomi and the boy but he wondered how much more trouble it was going to be looking after an extra woman, especially if the journey was as arduous as he feared it might be.
Then again, anyone who had crossed the great plains in a wagon and was now tolerating the constant earth tremors in San Francisco had to be made of sterner stuff than the average person. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to all the shaking in that city, although its citizens seemed to take it in stride.
He huffed as he turned and headed back downstairs. They’d be safe enough in a hotel this substantial unless another big shake started more fires like the ones the citizenry had experienced several years back. Volunteer fire companies had been organized to handle small blazes but it was easy for fires in multiple locations to get away from them no matter how often they trained or how diligently they worked to douse the flames.
Once the city water system was completed that would help. So would rebuilding in brick as many had lately, he told himself, but there was still plenty of flammable material around, especially in the poorer sections of town.
Suddenly uneasy, Thorne paused at the base of the stairs and stood stock-still, his hand on the newel post. It hadn’t been his imagination. The ground was trembling. Again. He could tolerate the pitching of a ship’s deck in a storm at sea much easier than he could the unsteady shore. At least on board his ships he could predict oncoming swells and brace to ride them out. Here on land the shaking always took him by surprise.
He was still standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for further tremors, when Charity joined him.
He glanced past her. “Where’s Jacob?”
“He fell asleep on my bed so I covered him, shut the door and left him there. He’s exhausted, as well you can imagine.”
“We all are,” Thorne said with a sigh. “I must apologize for putting you in such an untenable position. If you don’t wish to accompany my party, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “I knew that as soon as I looked into that poor little boy’s eyes.”
“You’re very kind.”
“No, I’m not. I have a lot of mistakes to make up for and helping you fulfill your obligation to your brother will start to pay that debt.”
“I can’t imagine what you could possibly have done that would call for such penance.”
“It’s not only what I did, it’s what I didn’t do when my sister needed me. It’s only by the grace of God that she survived and we were reunited.”
“Then you and I have even more in common than I thought,” Thorne said with empathy. “I have often wondered why God continually spared my life during my years at sea.”
“Really? Perhaps we were destined to work together for the common good.”
His eyebrows arched. “Perhaps.”
“Where’s Naomi?” Charity asked. “Not gone off again, I hope.”
“No. Mrs. Montgomery and your father are looking after her for the present.”
“Good.” Charity stepped down and led the way to the parlor as she continued to speak. “My life began on a small farm in Trumbull County, Ohio. I thought I understood what hard work and deprivation were but until I crossed the prairie in a wagon train I had no true picture. That was the worst experience I have ever had.”
Thorne stood until she had seated herself on the settee, then chose a nearby armchair. “Then you shouldn’t go with us to the territories. It will be much more primitive up there than it is here.”
“It wasn’t the lack of amenities that bothered me. It was being married to evil personified, himself.”
“You were married?”
“Yes. I thought my father had told you.”
Thorne hoped he was successfully hiding his initial shock. “No. All he said was that you had undergone some terrible experiences during your journey. He never mentioned marriage.”
“Hmm. I see.” Lacing her fingers together in her lap, she paused for a moment before she went on. “I suppose you should know more particulars about my past before you actually hire me.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is,” she said, stiffening her spine, raising her chin and staring at the opposite side of the room as if she were gazing into the past. “I was very young. Just sixteen. We were halfway to California when my sister, Faith, was kidnapped by men we thought were Indians. I feared I’d never see her again.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, there’s more,” she said with resignation as her eyes met Thorne’s. “I didn’t know it at the time but the wagon boss, Ramsey Tucker, was not only responsible for Faith’s disappearance, he got rid of her because he had designs on my father’s gold-mining claim and she was too smart for him. She saw his true character while I was blind to it.”
Thorne waited patiently for her to continue, aware that she was struggling to find the proper words and assuming she was trying to explain without exceeding the bounds of propriety.
Finally, Charity said, “Without my sister I was all alone, single and unescorted, and therefore in a terrible predicament, as you can imagine. I was so overwrought and afraid that I took the easy way out. I misjudged that horrid man and let him talk me into marrying him in order to continue the journey and find Papa again.”
“Are you still married?” Thorne asked quietly.
Charity’s eyes widened. “No! Nor was I legally wed in the first place, as it turned out, which makes everything even worse. Before he was killed, my so-called husband confessed that he was already married and had therefore led me, and countless other women, astray for his own disreputable gains.”
She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands and Thorne noted that her knuckles were white from the pressure of her tight grasp.
“Surely, none of that was your fault,” he said kindly.
“Wasn’t it? I try to think about those awful days as little as possible. No one here knows much about my past. Not even Mrs. Montgomery.”
“Yet you just told me. Why?”
“Because I could be considered a loose woman, especially if we were to encounter any of the other folks who crossed the plains on the same wagon train or were present in the gold camp when my…husband…was killed.”
Thorne had to smile. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his own hands. “Perhaps it will help if you know how I came to be called Blackwell while my brother is an Ashton.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Charity said.
“Still,
