was glad that Emory was with him because the older man was well-known and was therefore able to readily convince the celebrants to form a vigilance committee and join in the search for Aaron.
Leaving the saloon in the company of dozens of inebriated, raucous men, Thorne jumped up on the edge of a watering trough and grabbed a porch support post for balance while he waved and shouted to command everyone’s attention.
“There will be a large reward for my brother’s return,” he yelled, pleased to hear a responsive rumbling of excitement in the crowd. “He’s a city fellow from New York so you should be able to pick him out from amongst the prospectors and immigrants. He was wearing a brown suit and vest. His hair is lighter than mine and he’s a little shorter. He has no beard or mustache. If any of you spot him, I can be reached through the Montgomery House Hotel or the freighter Gray Feather. She’s moored close to the main pier. Let’s go, men. Time is of the essence.”
Stepping down, he started off with the others. He would have preferred to head a sober search party but under the present circumstances he figured he was fortunate to have found a group of able-bodied men awake and willing to help at this time of night.
“It’s all Chinese down that way,” Emory told him, pointing. “Your brother’d stick out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood. The sheriff said he wants us to check the wharf while he and some of the others look in the gambling and fandango houses we still have. Come the first of April, bawdy houses’ll be banned on Dupont, Jackson and Pacific. Don’t know what this city’s comin’ to.”
“All right,” Thorne said. “I probably know the waterfront as well as most of the folks who live here.”
“Been a sailor all your life?”
“In a matter of speaking.” Thorne didn’t think this was an appropriate time to mention that he had long since graduated from employee to employer. Nor was it a good idea to flaunt his wealth in a town with a reputation for lawlessness and greed, mainly thanks to the gold rush. San Francisco had come a long way from the canvas and board shacks he remembered from 1850 but it still hadn’t managed to attain anything resembling the degree of civility Aaron and Naomi were used to back in New York.
Although Thorne’s clothing bespoke a full purse, his actual worth far exceeded the external evidence. And that was the way he wanted it. He’d found out the hard way that if a man had money there was always someone eager and willing to separate him from it, one way or another. That much, he had learned from Louis Ashton.
The difference was what lay in a man’s heart, not what lined his pockets, Thorne reminded himself. He would gladly pay whatever it took to get his brother back and not miss a penny of that money. Unfortunately, if Louis’s hired thugs were responsible for the abduction, he feared that Aaron’s freedom was not going to be for sale at any price.
Although Charity had wanted to join in the search, she knew better than to venture out onto the streets unescorted, especially after dark, so she had stayed behind to try to comfort Naomi.
By dawn the poor woman had sobbed herself into exhaustion and had finally fallen asleep. Although Charity was weary, too, she took pity on Jacob and kept him beside her while she did her morning chores and helped prepare breakfast for the remaining hotel guests.
Fortunately, the current Montgomery Hotel didn’t house as many souls as it had before being rebuilt. Now that they were able to offer private rooms, the income from the establishment had improved while the workload had lessened. For that, Charity was doubly thankful. She didn’t begrudge her father his ease but she sometimes did wish he’d contribute more to their daily necessities.
She shook off the negative feelings and reminded herself that she was blessed to have a roof over her head and to be in the company of a papa who loved and forgave her in spite of her folly as a younger woman. That she had survived at all was a wonderment. That she and Faith had both managed to locate their father and work together for the common good was almost miraculous, given the hardships and dangers they had faced.
Jacob had been gripping a handful of Charity’s skirt ever since she had awakened and dressed him and she had allowed it because he seemed so determined, so needy. She felt him give her apron a light tug. Smiling, she looked down and asked, “Are you hungry, dear?”
The little boy nodded and her smile grew. What a darling. The depths of his chocolate-brown eyes sparkled and his thick, dark lashes would have been the envy of any girl.
Leading him to a table in the kitchen she lifted him onto a chair and said, “My, what a big boy you are. You sit here and I’ll fetch your breakfast before we serve the others so you can eat first. Would you like that?”
Again he nodded and grinned, showing even, white teeth and dimples.
“You’re spoiling that child,” Annabelle Montgomery said as she kneaded dough on the opposite end of the table. “Not that I blame you. He’s a cute one, all right. And such a little man. So brave, what with his…” She broke off and glanced at the ceiling.
“Yes, I know,” Charity answered. “I’ve explained that his mama is ailing. Jacob is going to stay with me today so she can rest.”
“Good idea. I don’t suppose he’d like some flapjacks and homemade jam.”
The little boy’s head nodded so hard his dark curls bounced.
“My, my,” the proprietress said, “looks like he just might. While this dough rises a bit I’ll run out to the spring house and fetch some cool milk.”
“I should do that for you,” Charity said.
“Not this morning. You’re needed here.” Annabelle’s gentle gaze rested on the child and she shook her head slowly, sadly. “Perhaps we’ll hear from our Emory soon and we can all relax. I’ve been prayin’ hard ever since he left.”
“So have I.” Laying her hand atop the boy’s head Charity stroked his silky hair. “I meant for Papa to find the sheriff and then come home but I should have known he’d want to stay and help in the search. I just worry about him, that’s all.”
“So do I,” the portly proprietress said.
To Charity’s amazement she thought she glimpsed moisture in Annabelle Montgomery’s eyes as the other woman wheeled and left the room.
Thorne returned with Emory several hours later. Charity had set aside biscuits, as well as extra servings of ham and a bowl of red-eye gravy, assuming they’d be famished when they finally came home.
She was seated in a rocker in the hotel parlor, Jacob asleep in her arms, when the two men walked in.
Thorne approached her while Emory headed upstairs.
“Did you find your brother?” she asked.
“No. The sheriff is still keeping an eye open but there was no sign of him in any of the usual places.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“There are plates of food waiting for you and Papa in the warming oven over the stove,” she said, continuing her slow, steady rocking. “I’d get up and serve you but as you can see, I’m
