The Lost Baroness Page 19

  "Gabe fell in the river when he was about three. He would've drowned if Katie hadn't screamed her head off. After that we couldn't get him near water. He didn't even like to take a bath. The rest of us kids were like little fish, always running off to the river to swim. But Gabe, he'd sit on the bank and watch us."

  "Gabe is your brother?"

  Well, at least she'd found her tongue. "Nope. He's Flower's boy, hers and William's. They're my godparents. When we lived in Cherry Vale, they were our only neighbors." He looked down, Her eyes had closed again, and she'd pulled back into herself. "Gabe, he was a holy terror. Never still a minute. Broke his leg the first time when he was about a year and a half, falling off the roof. He'd climbed up the woodpile and--"

  "You are making that up. No baby so young would climb on a roof."

  "You haven't met Gabe. I doubt I could make up some of the stunts he's pulled. Like the time he decided he was going to ride the pig..."

  Her elbow in his belly drove the wind from him. "I do not want to hear about this make-believe child. I will tell you why I do not like boats and then you will understand."

  "Hold on a minute." He went to the brazier and poured two cups of tea from the pot that sat on its grate. When he joined her again on the bed, she was sitting with her back to the wall, her posture telling him she did not want to be held in his arms.

  Buff settled himself, legs stretched out in front of him. "So why don't you like boats?"

  "Min far was a fisherman. I told you that. Sometimes he would take me on his boat." She hesitated, took several deep breaths before going on. "That is what he told me. I do not remember. I remember nothing before I was twelve."

  "Nothing at all?"

  She shook her head. "We were fishing off Tillamook Head. The seas were high, he said, because there was a fierce storm far out where we could not see it. He was worried the weather would get worse, so he had turned us toward home."

  "You remember that much?"

  "Nej. I only tell you what min far told me." Setting the teacup aside, she rose to her feet and paced the length of the room, all of five steps. Without turning back, she said, "When a great wave caught us and almost tipped us over, I fell into the water. I could not swim."

  "Your pa was a fisherman and you couldn't swim?"

  She shrugged. "He said he had never thought about teaching me. No one had taught him. He learned the first time he fell into the water."

  Buff swore under his breath. "He must have figured his method worked. You stayed afloat."

  He could see the whiteness of her knuckles even from where he sat.

  "There was debris--from a shipwreck. I fell into the middle of it, and was caught fast. It kept me afloat." Turning, she said, "Sometimes I dream of it still. So cold! And in my dreams, I sink. I go deep, until my chest hurts, until I must breathe. And I am caught in chains, that hold me so I cannot move.

  "They thought I would die, for I had breathed water. I was ill...for a long time. All that winter, I think, for I cannot remember anything before the spring." She buried her face in her hands. "I have tried to remember, but I cannot.

  "Only what min far told me. All the rest is gone...as if I had not lived at all until then."

  He sat up straight. "Siri, when did it happen? What month? What year?"

  "Does it matter?" She returned to the bed and sat down next to him, but not so close that they were touching.

  "It could. When?"

  "I was twelve, so it was 1859. In the fall, I think. Far never said, but once he mentioned I was sick for half a year."

  Well aware that what he was thinking was about as possible as finding a palm tree growing in Astoria, he said, "September? Could it have been September? Around the eighth?"

  "That is my födelsedag. How did you know?"

  "Your birthday? I didn't. But something else happened that day. There was a shipwreck, a little south of Point Adams..."

  "Oh! The little girl, the one you seek. Was that when...?"

  "As close as I can tell, that's when the ship she might have been on went down. There weren't many survivors, but some of them were girls. Trouble is, the records show one more girl than I can account for. It could be her."

  She turned to stare at him. "And you think that I--"

  "I want to, but... No, not really. Either way, I can't leave a stone unturned." He caught her hands in his. "It's just so damned coincidental! You look enough like Anders to be his twin. If you fell in the water that day--the same day the Dancing Goddess is supposed to have gone down...in the same general area...."

  When she tried to pull her hands free of his grasp, he realized he'd been holding her tightly enough to hurt. "If only you were a couple of years younger. And Danish." He slumped back against the wall. "Well, never mind. We need to think about finding your kids, and not worry about my search."

  Siri laid her hand on his arm. "I am sorry, Buffalo. I hope you will find her someday." She was chewing her lip.

  When he put his hand over hers, she blinked rapidly. "Look, Siri, I'm sure there's a way to get to Portland overland, but I'm not sure we'd be smart to try it this time of year. Are you sure you can't take a boat?"

  "Could you not go without me? Find mina barn and bring them back to me?"

  He considered. Sure, he could go up there to Portland, wangle his way inside the boarding house, and see if there were a couple of kids the right ages there. "Do you have pictures of your kids? Photographs? Drawings?"

  She shook her head. "Nej. I wanted to have photographs made for our rooms, but Valter said it cost too much. He said we could always look at the ones Martine had."

  So all he'd have to go on would be descriptions. Even though he'd come from a large family--or perhaps because he had--Buff knew that all kids below five or six looked pretty much alike, except for hair and eye color maybe. "Birthmarks? Anything that would positively identify either one of them?"

  Slowly she shook her head. "Nej. Nothing."

  "Well, then," he said, feeling like an ogre, "I guess you'll have to give up ever seeing them again. You'll not get anyone willing to kidnap a couple of kids without a definite identification."

  "Nej! Nej, nej, nej! I will not give up mina barn! I will do what I must to have them with me."

  "Good. I'll make reservations on tomorrow's steamer to Portland." He stood up, wishing there had been some other way to get her cooperation.

  * * *

  After Buffalo had gone out, Siri dressed in clothing Mrs. Leong had found for her. The shirtwaist must have belonged to a short, buxom woman, for it could have wrapped around her twice, yet would barely tuck into her skirt. The latter was too short, showing the tops of her boots. Ordinarily she would not have gone out dressed so, but today she had no choice. At least the wool shawl was large enough to hang past her hips and was warm.

  If Mrs. Leong was telling the truth, she was not only without work, she was homeless.

  Icy rain was again coating every surface with a crystalline glaze as she made her slow and cautious way up the street to the hotel. The gusty wind made her umbrella all but useless, until she finally closed it and used it for a walking stick.

  When she knocked at the back door of the hotel, Bao answered almost immediately. He motioned her inside. "Be quiet. She in parlor." When he said she with that particular inflection, everyone knew who he was talking about. Mrs. Welkins and Bao detested each other, but he was such a good cook that she put up with him.

  She removed her coat and hung it on a hook, then stood the umbrella under it. "She's very angry with me, isn't she, Bao? Mrs. Leong said she'd hired someone to take my place."

  "New woman start yesterday. She already in room." He shook his head. "Not nice person. Very holy."

  Stifling a smile, Siri said, "I have to talk to Mrs. Welkins. Maybe she'll understand why I couldn't get back."

  He shook his head. "Not understand. Not want to. New woman not smile. She like."

  "Oh, dear." More than once Mrs. Welkins had rebuked Siri
and Carleen for joking as they worked. Apparently the new maid was more to her liking. "Well, I still must try." She glanced into the mirror beside the door, and smoothed her hair. Her stomach churned.

  "What are you doing here?" Mrs. Welkins demanded, as soon as Siri came into sight.

  "I came to explain--"

  "I want none of your lies. You were off with the Lachlan fellow. Everyone saw you leaving town with him. I'll have no whores working in my hotel."

  "But--"

  "Get out! And don't come back. I'll send someone with your worthless belongings. Carleen packed them up for you." She sniffed. "I would've thrown them out, but she wouldn't let me."

  Siri straightened her shoulders and looked down at Mrs. Welkins "I will go, but you are wrong. This is a bad thing you do, not letting me tell you what happened." She started to turn away, then paused, holding out her hand. "You owe me wages since the first of January."

  "You forfeited your pay when you didn't show up--"

  "Nej, I did not. You will pay me. Now." She leaned forward, hands on the counter. "Or perhaps I will tell all the men how you treat me," she said, although she had no intention of doing so.

  She thought she heard Mrs. Welkins mutter "Whore," under her breath, but said nothing. Not until she had her money in her hand.

  When she'd counted the money, Siri put it into her pocket. "I am not a whore," she said. "I am a good woman. But you are not. You are ond, en häxa! I am almost happy I work for you no longer."

  She managed to walk steadily until she was around the corner, then her steps faltered as her knees threatened to give way. Although she shook with a terrible rage, she knew she had just made a great enemy. Mrs. Welkins would tell other innkeepers that Siri Trogen was a whore, and none of them would hire her.

  "What'd you call her?" Carleen came down the stairs as Siri passed them. "A battleaxe? That's what it sounded like."

  "I called her an evil witch. She is one," Siri said, as she slapped the kitchen door open.

  "Did she give your job back?"

  Siri shook her head. "Nej, she did not." Her rage faded as she paced the length of the kitchen. It gave way to fear. She sank on to the settee and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Carleen, what am I to do? I have no place to go, no money."

  "But I thought... Isn't Mr. Lachlan--"

  "He is not keeping me," Siri snapped. The umbrella in its stand mocked her. Who had paid for it? "He is helping me to find mina barn. That is all." But her voice faltered on the last three words.

  "Well, I'll bet he would keep you, if you played your cards right. That night--when your room was broke into, the way he looked at you..." She shivered. "I'd give a pretty penny if a man looked at me that way, all hungry, but tender, like he was right fond of you."

  "He is a gentleman," Siri said. At least those words were true. "Mrs. Welkins said you had my things. I will send someone for them. And I thank you."

  "What're friends for?" Carleen gave her a quick hug. "Where are you staying? If you need a place, my mother--"

  "Nej, I have a place to stay, for now, at least. Mrs. Leong has a room for me."

  "Oh, my, aren't you scared to stay there?" Carleen cast a wary glance over her shoulder, but Bao was no longer in the kitchen. "What if Li Ching finds out you're there? Next thing you know, you'll be sold into slavery."

  Siri had to smile. "Oh, I do not think that will be a problem. Mr. Lachlan is well-respected by the Chinese. They know I am his...friend."

  "Well, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. Not for anything." Another quick, one-armed hug, and Carleen was on her feet. "Look, I've got to get back to work, before the old witch catches me." She winked. "So you really called her an old witch. Too bad you didn't say it in English." With a last wave, she was gone.

  In a moment she was back, smiling widely. "I have something to tell you. I'll come over tonight." She disappeared, leaving the door swinging widely.

  Siri knew she should get back to the Chinese store. There was much to be done before tomorrow.

  Instead she sat in the empty kitchen, overcome by an enormous lassitude.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Jaeger entered the empty hotel lobby, he heard the red-haired maid speaking with someone. He made sure the door to the library was closed, then he tiptoed down to the landing where he could listen. The other speaker's voice was indistinct, but after hearing what Carleen was saying, he decided she was the other maid, Siri, who Mrs. Welkins said was no longer employed by the hotel.

  What is she doing here, then?

  He listened a moment longer, then decided the women were saying nothing of interest, so he went up to the third floor. Curious, he detoured to the north hall and listened briefly at the door to Mr. Lachlan's room. There was no sound. Quickly he used the key he had stolen from the hôtelier's desk. The room was empty, the arrangement of brush, comb, and water glass on the bureau as he had left it three days ago. Lachlan had not returned here.

  So. Perhaps he has found other lodging.

  Astoria was not so large that Jaeger would have difficulty discovering where it was.

  * * *

  By the time Buff got back to the Chinese store, the weather had gone from miserable to downright frightful. The word on the docks was that bad weather was coming. Most Astorians seemed to pay no attention to the incessant rain, and considered anything under a full gale a gentle breeze.

  If they didn't go to Portland tomorrow, it might be a while. Siri would be frightened enough aboard a boat on calm water. He didn't want to make matters worse by forcing her to travel when the river was rough.

  Siri. Was he being cruel to her to insist she come with him? He didn't really understand her fear, for all he'd made sympathetic noises when she'd told him of her near-drowning.

  He wasn't at all confident he could identify her kids beyond any doubt, no matter how well she described them. Great God! He could just imagine snatching a couple of kids and bringing them back to her, only to find they weren't hers. A good way to get himself lynched.

  Not to mention the grief he'd cause the kids and their folks. That was the justification he'd offer Siri. She'd never cause another woman to suffer as she had.

  Satisfied he had the right tack to take, he made his way back to the Chinese store. This morning he'd made arrangements with Mrs. Leong for Siri to stay as long as she needed to, and for her possessions to be stored there.

  What a place it was! A warren, hidden in the center of a block, looking like a warehouse, with high, blank walls. The only entrance, as near as he'd been able to tell, was through the Chinese store. He'd bet there were others, ones he'd never be allowed to see. Li Ching might have welcomed him, and might treat him with civility because he was Silas' nephew, but when push came to shove, Buffalo was not Chinese, and therefore not to be trusted.

  Siri was not in the room.

  "She go hotel," Mrs. Leong said, obviously disapproving, when he entered the store. "Not listen when I say Chu bring her belongings."

  Buff looked out the dirty window. It was nearly full dark. "How long ago?"

  "Long time. Little while after you go out."

  Shit! Buff pulled his hat and coat back on. "I'm going after her. How do I get in if you're closed?"

  "You knock. I hear."

  How the hell did Siri figure to carry everything she owned down that hill one-armed? Damned independent woman. Just like his sisters.

  Once he started up the hill to the hotel, he knew she could not have carried anything, not and kept her feet. Every surface was ice-covered and getting worse every minute. If it weren't for the deep, broken ruts, frozen almost solid now, he'd have never made it ten yards up the street.

  * * *

  Siri eventually found the energy to return to the Chinese store. She wrapped her shawl over her head and shoulders and stepped out the back door.

  The world glistened. In the light from windows and the few street lamps visible from the hotel, golden sparkles blinked from branches, fences, even t
he rough surface of the street. A fine mist filled the icy air, giving the view an unworldly appearance, as if she stood at the bottom of a pool of clear, pure water.

  Cold water. She shivered. Deciding the umbrella would do her more good as a walking stick than in keeping off the mist, she carefully descended the wooden steps and made her way across the narrow back yard to the street. She discovered that if she kept to the grassy verge of the street, she could half-step, half-slide along. Unbalanced, because she could not swing her strapped arm, she placed each foot carefully. At the first corner, a half-block away, she almost fell. The umbrella went flying as she reached for a fencepost, caught herself at the cost of a splinter and a scraped palm. Then she had to lean over and pick up the umbrella from the icy grass.

  Clinging to the fencepost, she took a few moments to catch her breath before going on. With tiny, mincing steps, she crossed Wall Street. An orchard occupied the next half block, apple trees gnarled and twisted, looking like the trolls far had told her of when she was a child. Again she shivered, but this time only partly because of the cold. She had never realized how kuslig, how frightening, the orchard seemed in the dark. Still, she forced herself to take slow, careful steps, for the street was steep here, and if she fell she might slide all the way to the river.

  Eyes aimed at the ground just before her, attention totally on choosing the next secure foothold, she did not see the man until he was upon her.

  * * *

  Jaeger watched the woman approach. She was distracting Lachlan from his quest. It was time he resumed seeking the Thorssen heiress.

  Jaeger wanted to go back to Europe. He had been away from his homeland far too long, first pursuing the swine who had carried the Graf's stolen diamonds from Düsseldorf to Hawaii, then following Lachlan. He was sick of America, sick of the rough denizens of this godforsaken town, sick to death of crude manners and plain food and ugly, utilitarian clothing.

  The woman passed the pile of tree trimmings he crouched behind. She was moving slowly, picking her way along the ice-slick verge. When she was just beyond his position, he leapt, knife held low, its blade uppermost.