“I should be angry with you, you know.”

“I know,” Sara Beth said, averting her gaze. “But you’re not, are you? Not really.”

There was no way Taylor could overlook the sweetness of her smile or the blush on her fair cheeks. Her hair had become mussed during her ordeal and the loose curls made her look like an endearing moppet. “No,” he said. “I’m not.”

Her grin spread and her greenish eyes twinkled mischievously. “Good. I’d be terribly sad if you were.”

“Sad enough to behave and stay safely away from the city center for a while?”

“Well…” Her soft drawl and the way she was gazing into his eyes made him melt inside like butter on a summer’s day. “Don’t look so worried. I promise I shall behave as well as is sensible.”

“That’s what worries me,” he quipped. When she reached up and gently caressed his cheek, his knees nearly buckled….

VALERIE HANSEN

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for all of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired lines.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

The Doctor’s Newfound Family
Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.

—Psalms 34:19

To my editor, Melissa Endlich, who believed in me enough to let me branch out and live a vicarious life in the old West, as well as get into plenty of “trouble” in the present.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Prologue

“A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.”

—Psalms 34:19

San Francisco, 1856

Chilling, midnight fog from the bay swirled around the two men standing together in the narrow alley bordering Meigg’s wharf. The taller one was clad in the tailored suit, coat and top hat typical of a wealthy merchant or banker while the other, shivering and nervously rubbing his own arms, wore the canvas pants, homespun shirt and cap of a dock worker.

The man in the tall beaver hat scratched a lucifer and lit his cigar with it, then slowly blew out a stream of smoke that was quickly lost in the mist. When he finally spoke, his tone was smooth and assured. “You understand what has to be done?”

“Yes, sir, Mr….”

“Shut up. No names. And if anyone asks, you and I have never met. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The workman chafed his calloused hands together to warm them. “When do you want me to do it?”

“In a few more days. I’ll get word to you when my plans are firm. Spend your evenings right here in old Abe Warner’s so you’re ready and waiting when the time comes. Just see that you stay sober enough to hit what you’re aiming at. There’ll be no further payment if you miss him and shoot me instead.”

“I won’t miss, mister. I know when to keep away from John Barleycorn.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“How will I know for sure which fella to shoot? I mean, won’t he be dressed just like you?”

“Probably. I’ll lure him down here to meet with me after dark, then light my cigar the way I did tonight. When I step back out of the way, kill him.”

“How’ll I see so’s I don’t make a mistake? What if there’s more fog, like now? The new gaslights ain’t workin’ hardly anywhere in the city.”

The elegant gentleman laughed quietly, menacingly. “I know that, you cretin. Who do you think arranged for the Board of Supervisors to stop paying those exorbitant gas bills? I want it dark, especially around here.”

“You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?”

“Yes. As long as you do as you’ve been told, all my troubles will soon be over.”

Chapter One

Something was terribly wrong.

Sara Beth awoke with a start. The darkness seemed filled with unnamed dread. She sat up in bed and strained to discern what had disturbed her usually peaceful slumber. At first she thought that perhaps there had been another minor earthquake, which were common in the city by the bay, but she felt no tremors. She did, however, hear plenty.

Downstairs, Mama’s voice was raised, pleading, and although Sara Beth couldn’t quite make out her stepfather’s words, she could hear the rumble of his gruff-sounding reply. That was very unsettling. Mama had married Robert Reese when Sara Beth was but five years old, and in nearly thirteen years she had almost never heard her parents argue.

Rising, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders over her long nightdress, tossed her head to free her heavy, reddish braid, and tiptoed to the adjoining room to check on her younger half-brothers.

Peeking in at the small beds, she noted that all three boys appeared to be sound asleep. Josiah was the youngest and the most restless. As long as he wasn’t stirring, there was a good chance none of the boys had been disturbed.

She gently eased the door to their room closed, went to the head of the stairs and paused at the banister to listen carefully. What she overheard made the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

“Don’t go, Robert,” her mother pleaded. “Please. For the sake of the children, if not for me.”

“You don’t understand, Isabelle. I work with the man. I owe it to him to give him a chance to explain before I take my findings to the authorities.”

“He’s evil. I can see that even if you can’t. How do you think he got so wealthy while we scrape by and live so meagerly?”

“Do you wish you’d married him instead? Is that it?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then stop acting as though you want to protect him.”

“It’s you I want to protect, not him. Can’t you see that?”

Sara Beth crept silently down the stairway until she reached a vantage point where she could see both her parents. Mama was still dressed, as was Papa. It looked as if they had never gone to bed.

Jerking his arm from his wife’s grasp, Robert Reese grabbed his top hat and greatcoat and stormed through the front door, not even glancing in Sara Beth’s direction as he passed.

As soon as he had slammed his way out, she hurried the rest of the way down the stairway to comfort her mother. “What’s happened, Mama? What’s wrong?”

Isabelle covered her face with her hands and began to lament. “I’ve buried one husband. Now I fear I shall have to bury another.”

“Oh, Mama! Papa Robert will be fine. I know he will. We’ll pray for him.”

Sniffling and wiping furiously at her eyes, Isabelle shook her head. “No, he will not be fine. Not unless I can talk some sense into him before he goes too far.” She cast around the cozy room, her eyes alight in the glow from the kerosene lamps, then moved quickly to her sewing table and took her reticule from the drawer. “You mind the boys.”

Sara Beth’s sense of foreboding deepened. She reached to restrain her mother, but was shaken off like a pesky insect. The older woman grabbed a hooded cape, threw it over her shoulders and strode purposefully toward the door.

“Mama. Wait. Where are you going?”

“Meigg’s wharf. If I don’t return by morning, go next door to Turner’s store as soon as they open and ask them to send someone to fetch Sheriff Scannell.”

“Why do you have to leave us?” Sara Beth asked, the quiver in her voice mirroring the trembling of her body.

“Because there’s evil in this old world,” her mother said. “And your father is determined to stand alone against it in spite of everything. I have to be by his side whether he wants me there or not.” She paused at the open door, her expression somber. “If anything should happen to me, go to Ella McNeil at the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society. She’ll take care of you just as she took care of both of us when you were a little girl.”

The last thing Isabelle said before she closed the door behind her was, “I love you, dear heart. Always remember that.”

Sara Beth didn’t even consider returning to her room or trying to sleep. She paced. She prayed. She fretted. Then she pulled herself together with a final, “Please God, help us,” and decided she must act.

She had no doubt that it would be foolish to venture out on foot at night, especially down toward the wharf, although her mother had done exactly that. She also knew that the fate of her entire family might rest on her being there to render aid. That was why Mama had gone after Papa Robert, wasn’t it? How could she do less?

It wasn’t as though Sara Beth had never been to Meigg’s wharf before. She knew the old man who ran the menagerie off the alley down by Francisco Street. Abe Warner had been friendly to her and the boys every time Mama had taken them there to see all his amazing animals. And he’d always let them feed peanuts to the monkeys that roamed free in his watering hole dubbed the Cobweb Palace.

That establishment was run-down and dirty even without all the resident spiders that he refused to kill, but the old man was jolly and Mama had deemed him harmless. If Sara Beth could reach that section of the wharf safely she knew she’d find sanctuary.

The trouble was, she couldn’t run off and leave her little brothers alone. Therefore, the first thing she had to do was rouse them and see that they were warmly dressed.

Lucas, the eleven-year-old, would help if she could manage to awaken him sufficiently. And Mathias was pretty self-reliant for being only seven. If they couldn’t manage to dress two-year-old Josiah properly, she’d tend to his needs herself.

Rushing up the stairs, she barged into the boys’ bedroom, raised her coal-oil lamp high and shouted, “Everyone up. We’re going on an adventure and we have to leave right away.”

The shot echoed through the rickety frame buildings and resounded along the docks.

An elderly, balding man in his nightshirt stuck his head out the window of his bedroom on the second floor of his establishment and squinted down through the fog, seeking the source of the noise.

Directly below, a woman screamed. Another shot was fired. Then another.

The old man ducked back inside, fumbled into his trousers, tucked in his nightshirt and stuck his bare feet into run-down boots as he pulled his braces over his shoulders. He didn’t know what had happened but he’d bet his bottom dollar that somebody was in need of a doctor. And he knew just where to find a good one. He only hoped that whoever had been injured could hold on long enough for proper help to arrive.

By the time Sara Beth got her brothers ready to go and led them out onto the street, the fog was lifting and there was a pale pink glow beginning to warm the springtime sky just over the hills to the east.

She had hoped to be able to tuck Mama’s little single-shot pistol into her pocket for protection, but when she’d gone to fetch it, it was missing, which was comforting because it was probably with her mother.

Sara Beth would be armed only with her wits, her courage and the “full armor of God” that the Bible spoke of. That would be sufficient. It had to be.

At the last minute she’d taken one of Mama’s bone knitting needles and had stuffed it up the narrow sleeve of her coat. It wasn’t much defense, considering the riffraff they might encounter, but it gave her courage a slight boost.

“Luke and Mathias, you tend to Josiah,” she said as she led them down the front porch steps and onto the street. “Take turns carrying him if you must. Just keep up with me, stay very close and don’t say a word, you hear?”

Luke obeyed as expected. Mathias was his usual ornery self. “Why?” he asked in a shrill whine. “Where’s Mama? And why do we have to go out in the dark? Papa will be mad.”

“If you must know, we’re going to meet Mama and Papa.” Sara Beth used her most commanding tone to add, “Do as I say or I’ll tell them you misbehaved and you’ll get a whipping.”

Mathias made a sour face and scrunched up his freckled nose, but he fell into step as instructed. Sara Beth turned away so he wouldn’t see her start to smile. There was a lot of her own orneriness in her little brother, and his antics often reminded her of herself. Luke was the serious one. Josiah was the inquisitive imp. But Mathias and she were kindred souls, never satisfied to bide their time and always questioning authority.

“I hope and pray I’m doing the right thing this time,” Sara Beth whispered to herself as she led the way along the plank walkway toward the Pacific shore. “I truly do.”

In the misty light of approaching dawn, she could see a few figures moving silently in and out of the deep shadows. Their presence gave her a start until she realized that none seemed the least interested in her or her little band of children. That was just as well, she reasoned, marching ahead boldly to allay her own fears, because until she reached the safety of the Cobweb Palace she was more vulnerable than she’d ever been.

The shortest distance to Meigg’s wharf was via Francisco Street, so that was the route she chose. Feral cats, busy raiding the rotting garbage dumped at the edges of the raised walkway, hissed and spat as she and the boys passed.

Time and again, Sara Beth glanced over her shoulder to make certain her little brothers were staying close as instructed.

The moist, damp air blowing ashore from the bay seemed to press in on her, its cloying smells almost overpowering. Never before had she noticed how filthy this neighborhood was. Nor had she anticipated how desolate it would seem at this time of the morning.

Always before when she had been there, the area had been bustling with all sorts of people, men and women, rich and poor, intent on their own business or simply out seeing the more colorful sights of the city. To find the neighborhood so apparently abandoned was unsettling.

Suppressing a shiver, she boldly marched on. They were almost there. Her breathing became shallow with anticipation, her heart pounding even more rapidly.

There were lights shining from the windows of the Cobweb Palace when she rounded the final corner. Moreover, many of the local inhabitants who had been out of sight during her approach had apparently been congregating in front of Mr. Warner’s menagerie building. The crowd there was considerable, and it was growing.

Sara Beth paused a moment to assess the situation, then gathered her brothers to her, relieving the older ones of baby Josiah.

“Keep close to me,” she ordered. “Grab a handful of my skirt and don’t you dare let go until I say so, understand? This crowd is very big and I can’t hold all your hands at the same time. We mustn’t get separated.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke said, his brown eyes wide.

Mathias, too, nodded, although Sara Beth could tell he’d be off in a jiffy if one of Abe Warner’s tame monkeys scampered up and wanted to play tag. Reinforcing her command she glared at him. “You, too, Mathias. Promise?”

He made a silly face. “Okay.”

“Good. Now come with me. I think I see Mr. Warner in the doorway of his store and I want him to watch you while I find out what’s happened.”

She didn’t voice all that she was thinking, partly because she didn’t want to frighten the boys, and partly because she wasn’t ready to accept that her parents might be at the center of the knot of men gathered on the rough, weathered walkway.

The moment Abe spotted her, he hurried over. “You children shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to come,” Sara Beth said, handing the still-sleepy Josiah to the trusted old man. “Is it…?”

“Come inside,” he said. “There’s no need for you young’uns to see all that. No need at all. No sirree.”

Sara Beth grasped his coat sleeve and stopped him. “Tell me. Please?”

She saw him look to the boys, then shake his head. The sadness and empathy in his expression told her more than any words could have. Much more than she wanted to know.

Biting her lip and fighting dizziness, she passed all her brothers into Abe’s care, then whirled and ran back into the street, pushing her way through the gaggle of onlookers.

A young, dark-haired man in a black frock coat was crouched down next to three bodies that lay on the walkway. Two had already been covered and he was laying the muddy folds of a wool cape over the face and upper torso of the third to mask it.

Sara Beth immediately recognized the fabric of her mother’s skirt and gave a little shriek.

The hatless man quickly stood, focused his dark, somber gaze on her and grasped her arms to stop her from proceeding.

She tried to lunge past him toward the bodies as she fought to free herself. “No. Let me go!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her fast. “I did all I could. By the time I got here they were gone to Glory.”

“No. That can’t be true.”

“Unfortunately, I’m quite certain it is,” he answered. “I’m a doctor.”

“But you’re wrong! You have to be wrong.”

“I am sorry, miss.”

Truth and sympathy were evident in the man’s darkly serious gaze.

Bright lights sparkled in Sara Beth’s field of vision. Her head spun and she felt wobbly the way she sometimes did during an earthquake.

Her mouth was dry, prickly. She took several shuddering breaths and blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts, to accept what her heart insisted was impossible. It was no use.

Darkness akin to a starless night began to close in on her. She sensed herself descending into a bottomless pit of hopelessness and despair.

No longer wanting to see or hear anything that was transpiring around her, she closed her eyes and let go of a reality too painful to acknowledge.

She was only vaguely aware of someone’s strong arms catching her as she sank blissfully into the welcome void of unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

Dr. Taylor Hayward’s boots clumped up the creaky wooden steps as he carried the unconscious young woman into Warner’s Cobweb Palace.

He laid her atop the bar rather than lower her onto the dusty floor. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be offended when she awoke to find herself the center of interest in the old saloon. In his opinion the bar was the cleanest area in the entire building and therefore the best choice as a makeshift fainting couch.

He didn’t think the girl was ill or would be in need of his services once she regained consciousness. She had simply received a shock when she had stumbled upon the grisly scene and would surely come around soon without medical intervention. Still, he planned to stay close to her until she was in possession of her full faculties and to offer smelling salts if need be.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched shout and a sharp pain in his ankle. He looked down to see a reddish-haired boy of about eight drawing back to give his shin another whack. Before the child had a chance to kick him again, Taylor lifted him by the back of his coat collar and held him at arm’s length.

“Whoa, son. Take it easy.”

The wiry boy wriggled and swung his fists in the man’s direction even though his arms were far too short to reach his intended victim. “What’d you do to my sister?” he screeched.

“This young lady? Nothing. She fainted and I caught her so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself. That’s all. What’s your name?”

Still struggling and obviously intent on doing more bodily harm, the boy ignored the question. Looking past him, Taylor saw a slightly older child holding a toddler and standing next to the proprietor. Since none of the children was familiar to him, he called out, “Hey, Abe. Do you know this little rascal who’s tryin’ to take me apart?”

The old man nodded as he laid a hand on Luke’s head and stroked his hair. “Aye. That’s Mathias Reese, Miss Sara Beth’s brother. So are these young gentlemen. This is Luke and the baby’s Josiah.”

“Then suppose you tell them I’m an innocent doctor, not a mugger?”

Mathias started to relax but his eyes looked suspiciously moist. “You’re a doctor?”

Taylor lowered him carefully to the floor at his feet and released him before crouching to speak with him on his level. “That’s right. And it’s a good thing, too, because I think my ankle will need medical attention.”

The child glanced out the door to where the crowd was still milling around the recently deceased threesome. “Can you fix my mama?”

Taylor’s breath caught. Ah, so that was why the girl had fainted. Little wonder. She and the boys were apparently part of a family that had just been devastated in a matter of minutes.

He laid a hand of consolation on the boy’s thin shoulder before he said, “I’m sorry, son. I got here too late to help her.”

“Papa?” Mathias whispered. His lower lip was trembling and he was clearly fighting to keep from weeping.

Instead of answering, Taylor swept the grieving child up in his arms and motioned to Abe to join him rather than leave the unconscious girl unattended.

“Both their parents?” Taylor asked quietly aside.

The old man nodded again. “Afraid so. I don’t know what these poor little tykes’ll do now.”

“What about the other man. Who was he?”

“Can’t say. I think I’ve seen him around but I never did catch his name. He’s one of the regular dock workers is all I know. I didn’t see everything that happened but I do know that Mrs. Reese managed to shoot their attacker before she fell, too.”

“I suppose it was a robbery gone terribly wrong,” the doctor said. “What I don’t understand is why a refined couple like that was out wandering this neighborhood at night.”

Behind him, the girl stirred and moaned. Taylor passed Mathias to Abe Warner and grasped her delicate hand. As her eyes fluttered open, he was struck by the flecks of golden color in her beautiful, green gaze.

She blinked, managed to focus, and tried immediately to sit up.

Taylor gently restrained her. “Lie still. You’ve had a bad shock and you need a few more moments to gather your wits before you try to stand.”

Her eyes widened, misted. “Mama and Papa are both gone, aren’t they?”

Taylor knew better than to lie to her. “Yes. I’m afraid so. Are you the eldest of their children?”

She continued to stare at the ceiling of the dimly lit room and act as if she hadn’t comprehended.

“Miss?” Taylor chafed her wrist in his hands to help revive her. “Miss? Can you hear me?”

He saw her gather herself, mentally, before she answered, “Yes,” and again endeavored to rise. This time he assisted her and carefully helped her down from the bar. She seemed steadier on her feet than he’d expected, so he released her.

To his surprise, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and addressed him boldly. “Thank you for your efforts on behalf of my parents, Doctor. I left home in a rush and neglected my reticule but perhaps my father’s purse contains enough to satisfy your fee.” She paused briefly then added, “Unless he has been robbed.”

“Do you think that’s what led to this?”

“Of course,” she replied, yet there was something odd in her expression. Something that alerted the doctor to the possibility that she was hiding something.

“Would you like me to help you make final arrangements?” Taylor asked.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Sara Beth answered. “I’m sure Mr. Warner can assist me.”

“Well, please accept my condolences. If there is anything I can do for you in the future, feel free to call upon me. My office is located at the corner of California and Montgomery streets, above the Wells Fargo & Co. office.” He withdrew a card from his vest pocket and presented it to her. “My name is Taylor Hayward.”

For a brief moment, he thought she might refuse to take the card. Then, she pocketed it without comment.

The doctor turned to Abe Warner. “Can you handle everything in here for now?”

“We’ll be fine.” The apple-cheeked old man gave a wistful smile. “If I can manage my mischievous monkeys and all the birds and other critters in here, a few little boys won’t cause me no trouble.”

Taylor hoped Abe was right. He had an unsettled feeling about leaving the children in the elderly man’s care, yet it looked as if their sister was old enough and wise enough to eventually provide a stable home for them.

She was an extraordinary young woman, he mused. Her fortitude in the face of disaster was not only unusual, it was inspiring. Most women he had encountered, of any age, were flighty and prone to getting the vapors over the littlest fright or disappointment. Miss Sara Beth Reese had fainted, yes, but for good reason. And she had quickly pulled herself together and regained her sensibilities in a way that truly amazed him.

Polite society required that he keep his distance unless summoned, of course, but he would nevertheless try to stay abreast of the little family’s circumstances. Taylor had had the benefit of the support of both his parents all his life and he couldn’t imagine how he’d have managed without his father’s wise counsel and his mother’s tempering gentleness and abiding Christian faith.

He glanced back at the Reese children as he stepped outside. They had gathered around their big sister and were clinging to her as if she were the only lifeline from a sinking ship. He hoped—and prayed—that that was not so. There were many opportunities in San Francisco these days, but there were also many pitfalls and dangers, especially for a young, pretty woman with no family elders to advise and cosset her.

As Sara Beth comforted the boys and dried their eyes, she wondered why she, too, was not weeping. She wanted to cry but the tears would not come. Perhaps that was because she still could not force herself to believe her mama and papa were gone forever. Oh, she believed in heaven. That wasn’t the problem. Her question was how a benevolent Heavenly Father could have allowed her and the boys to be left so alone.

“I shall need to return home soon,” she told Abe Warner. “Will you escort us?”

“I’d be obliged,” he said, “but I can’t leave my store with all these goings-on outside. There’ll be the law to deal with and then—”

“Will you then arrange for a proper funeral?” Sara Beth asked. “I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“Of course, of course. Your pastor should be notified, too. What church do you attend?”

“First Congregational,” she said. “At least, Mama and I went and took the boys. Papa never seemed to have the time. He was always working.”

“That reminds me,” Abe said, frowning. “You’ll need to make sure that that workshop of his is secure. Lock it up good and tight, if you know what I mean. There’ll have to be an accounting and you wouldn’t want to come up short.”

“I don’t know a thing about that, either,” Sara Beth said. “Papa brought the gold dust samples home and assayed them all by himself. None of us were permitted to even watch from outside a window. What shall I do?”

“Leave everything just as it sits,” Abe advised. “Whoever assigned him to do the assay work will surely contact you and make further arrangements.” He shook his head pensively. “Always did seem a mite reckless to me, trusting outsiders to handle the dust—even a little of it. Then again, they say there wasn’t room for the entire operation under one roof at the mint yet, and your papa was an honest man. He’d had that job ever since Moffat and Company sold to Curtis and Ward, hadn’t he?”

“I—I think so.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry, Mr. Warner. I can’t seem to concentrate at the moment.”

“It’s the shock, I reckon. You’re right about needin’ to get on home and take it easy. I’ll arrange for someone to drive you.”

“No, no. We can walk. I don’t have the price of a private hack and I don’t know when I’d be able to repay you.”

“There’s someone close by who has his own buggy. Never you fear. He won’t charge a penny.”

“But—”

“No argument, girl. I think he’s still outside. I’ll go talk to him and be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Mathias tugged on her skirt to get her attention. “Are we goin’ home, Sara Beth?”

“Yes, dear. As soon as we can.”

“What about…?” His lower lip began to quiver as he gazed out the open door.

“Mr. Warner will take care of things for us here,” she said, realizing that her real problems were only just beginning. “We need to get on home. I’ll fix some nice pancakes. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

Although she knew that it now fell to her to hold the family together, she had absolutely no idea how she was going to accomplish that feat.

Yes, she knew how to keep house and do the same things her mother had always done, such as sew and prepare meals.

But those were the least of her worries, weren’t they? With Papa gone, who would support them? Who would bring in the wages they’d need to survive, let alone flourish as they had been? Sara Beth had had only one serious suitor in the past year and repeatedly rejected his offers of marriage, with her mother’s blessing.

Perhaps that was why Mama had specifically mentioned the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society, Sara Beth reminded herself. The benevolent organization had begun as a part of her home church and she already knew many of the members. Mama herself had once worked for some of those dear ladies as a seamstress, until she’d met and married Papa.

Are my skills with needle and thread sufficient to do the same? she wondered. Was there a chance she might find the kind of gainful employment that had once kept her and her widowed mother off the streets? She prayed so. For if not, she and her brothers were going to be in trouble. And soon.

Abe found the young doctor in the alley, awaiting the arrival of the sheriff. “You bring your buggy, Taylor?”

“Yes. I was just coming in from a call outside town so I already had the horse in harness. I wouldn’t have stopped to hitch up otherwise.”

“Good. I’ve got a favor to ask. Miss Sara Beth and her brothers need a ride home. I’d take ’em myself but I don’t dare leave my emporium until the furor dies down a bit more. I figure I might as well open the bar and take care of the thirsty curiosity-seekers, too.”

The doctor chuckled wryly. “That’s what I’d have expected, you old reprobate. Don’t you know that rotgut is bad for you?”

“It’s a darned sight safer than the water we get from the water wagons,” Abe countered. “That stuff’s clear green sometimes, especially come summer.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” Taylor replied. “All right. I’ll bring my horse around and wait while you fetch the Reese children.”

“One of ’em ain’t exactly a child, if you get my drift. You okay with that?”

“I’m a doctor,” Taylor said. “And we’ll have the boys with us as chaperones. As long as Miss Sara Beth doesn’t mind riding with me, I’m sure no one else will think twice about it.”

The old man snorted cynically. “If you say so. Just keep your interest professional, you hear?”

“Have you taken it upon yourself to look out for the young lady’s honor?”

“I wish I could,” Abe answered, sobering. “An old codger like me is no good example for those boys, nor a fitting companion for a young woman of Sara Beth’s upbringing.”

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Abe shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Does she have grandparents? Aunts and uncles?”

“None, far as I know, although in a case like this folks sometimes crawl out of the woodwork lookin’ for a piece of the inheritance.”

“Reese had money?”

“I reckon. They live in a pretty nice two-story house over on Pike. You’ll see when you drive ’em home. Ol’ Robert worked for the mint for a couple of years before he and another fella went into the assay business for themselves.”

“Then that’s good, right?”

“I ain’t sure. Robert used to take lots of samples home with him. It was his job to double-check the official assay and he didn’t like to work with a lot of other people watching. All I can see is trouble ahead.”

“How so?”

“Can’t say for certain. It just seems to me that if anybody was to take a notion to help himself to some of that gold dust, now’s the time he’d prob’ly do it. Fetch the buggy. I’ll go get your passengers.”

Taylor mulled over the old man’s opinions and concerns as he led his horse and compact rig into the alley. He supposed he should be thankful for the opportunity to help the orphaned children, but he had to admit that there was more to his interest than mere altruism.

Something about the lost look in Miss Sara Beth’s eyes had touched him deeply, irrevocably. In an instant he had come to care about her far more than the circumstances called for. True, she was strong-willed, but she also reminded him of a lost sheep being circled by a pack of ravenous wolves. Given what Abe knew about the whole situation, it was little wonder the elderly man felt a fatherly bent toward the girl.

Taylor huffed and shook his head as his conscience kicked him in the gut. His personal feelings were far from paternal in regard to the lovely young woman. Her hair was the rich colors of autumn, spun into silk. And her eyes were jade gems, sparkling with the very flecks of gold her father had once tested. It was improper of him to notice such things, yet he had.

His outward behavior, of course, would always remain above reproach. He would never stoop to taking advantage of a woman, especially not one as innocent and needy as Miss Reese. He would, however, be more vigilant on her behalf than he would any of his other patients.

Taylor could already tell it was not going to be enough to simply check on her well-being via others. He was going to take a personal interest in the situation. There was no getting around it, no talking himself out of it.

As far as he was concerned, divine providence had placed him in this city on this night and had led him to make these particular acquaintances. It was therefore his duty to do all he could to help—with no thought of gain.

He had not become a doctor in order to get rich; he had chosen his profession because he truly wanted to benefit mankind. If he had wanted a more lucrative career, he would have followed in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, or in his grandfather’s as a judge.

Instead, he had studied medicine for nearly a year under the best minds at Massachusetts General Hospital, then had apprenticed for a while before he’d bid his family goodbye and headed west to practice.

More than half the time he wasn’t remunerated for his efforts, and if he was, payment was likely to be a sack of potatoes or mealy flour or an occasional scrawny chicken. He had thought, with the discovery of gold and San Francisco’s burgeoning economy, he’d easily find plenty of wealthy patients. Instead, he’d encountered more poverty and need than he’d imagined possible.

That was why he’d begun to donate his services at places like the city’s two major orphan asylums and had been so adamant in his insistence that San Francisco needed a care facility devoted solely to the illnesses of children. As it stood now, the poor little things who could not be tended at home were carted off to the city and county hospitals, where they were then exposed to all sorts of nasty diseases and were in the constant presence of morbidity.

His horse nickered, disturbing his musings. Taylor looked up to see the approach of his passengers. He tipped his bowler to them. “Are you ready to go?”

Spine straight, shoulders squared beneath her fitted woolen coat, Sara Beth nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Dr. Hayward. If you will assist me, then hand me Josiah, I would be much obliged.”

It worried Taylor to see her so apparently in control of her emotions. The boys seemed a bit sniffly, as children were wont to be anyway, but there wasn’t a sign of tears in their sister’s eyes.

As he offered his hand, he felt a strange hardness press into his palm. Pausing, he turned her hand over and saw what looked like the end of a smooth, thin stick. His puzzled glance caused her to falter ever so slightly.

“Oh. Forgive me,” Sara Beth said, withdrawing the needle and displaying it for him with a trembling hand. “As I was leaving home I thought I might need some method of protection so I brought along one of Mother’s knitting needles. I had forgotten about it until now.”

“I hardly consider a sliver of bone a suitable defensive weapon,” Taylor said. “You could have been hurt walking these streets alone at night.”

He saw her countenance darken, her expression close. “Yes,” she said, taking the baby and settling him in her lap where she could hold him close. “I might have been shot and killed, mightn’t I?”

Without further comment he lifted the older boys into the crowded buggy, squeezed himself onto the single seat and took up the reins.

Perhaps he had overstepped propriety in his concern for the young woman, Taylor reasoned, but someone had to tell her she had behaved in a most foolish manner. If that decision to follow her parents into the dangers of the night was typical behavior, she wasn’t nearly as mature and level-headed as he’d first thought. Nor was she likely to be able to properly care for what remained of her family by herself.

Chapter Three

The steady, rhythmic echo of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and brick-paved streets provided a soothing tempo until they had proceeded far enough from the busiest areas of the city to encounter hard-packed dirt dotted with muddy potholes.

To Sara Beth’s relief, all the younger children had nodded off before the doctor’s buggy had reached the portion of Pike Street where their home stood.

“This is it,” she said, stifling a sigh and pointing. “That two-story, gray clapboard with the double porches. You can let us off in front.”

As the doctor climbed down to hitch his horse to a cast-iron ring, he paused. Tensing, he held up his hand to stop her instead of continuing around to help her disembark. “Wait. Stay there.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think I see someone on your porch.”

“That’s silly. There can’t be. Why would anyone…?” Peering at the house, she realized he was right. There was someone on her front porch. And another man on the upstairs porch that mirrored the structure at ground level. Judging by their shadowy forms, both men were carrying rifles.

Sara Beth remained in the buggy as she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “Who are you? What do you want?”

The gunman on the lower porch stepped off and started along the boarded walkway toward her. There was no mistaking the menace in his movements. She might have assumed she was overreacting but the buggy horse also seemed nervous, almost unseating her when it suddenly lurched backward to the end of its tether and stamped its hooves.

The man paused halfway to the street and struck a stalwart pose, his boots planted solidly apart, his rifle spanning his chest. “This house is off-limits,” he said. “Sheriff’s orders.”

“But that’s impossible. I live here,” Sara Beth insisted.

“Not any more you don’t. This property is sealed. No one can come or go,” the guard replied.

“That’s ridiculous. My father, Robert Reese, is the owner.” The gunman’s cynical chuckle chilled her to the bone.

“That’s what you think, little lady. I have it on good authority that this property belongs to the U.S. government now.”

“Who told you that? Who sent you?”

“I get my orders from Sheriff Scannell, like I said.”

Sara Beth was not about to concede defeat. “Where did he get that authority?”

“From Judge Norton, I reckon.”

The doctor had gotten back into his buggy and was again taking up the reins when Sara Beth noticed him. “What are you doing? I’m not going anywhere. This is my home and I intend to claim it.”

“Over their objection?” he asked. “I think that would be more than unwise, miss. I think it would be suicide.”

“I’m not afraid of them, even if you are.”

“Very noble, I’m sure. However, I have only a pistol and you are armed with a knitting needle. How do you propose we overwhelm at least two men with rifles and sidearms?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice rose. “They’re in the wrong. We can’t simply give in to such unfairness.”

“We can retreat to fight another day,” he said. “Hang on.” He gave the lines a snap and the horse took off smartly, pushing Sara Beth back against the padded seat in spite of her efforts to lean forward.

She bit her lower lip and fought a swelling feeling of exasperation and powerlessness. This couldn’t be happening! Everything she and her family owned was locked up in that house. She didn’t even have a hairbrush or a change of clothing for herself or for the boys.

The doctor slowed the horse’s pace when they were several blocks away. “Where to?” he asked.

“What?” She blinked rapidly to quell her tears of frustration.

“I can’t very well take you home with me and I don’t think the Cobweb Palace is a fit place, either. Do you have friends or family you could stay with until we get this mess sorted out?”

She noted his use of the pronoun “we,” but chose to ignore the implication. “I have no family in San Francisco and Mother’s friends are mostly affiliated with the Ladies’ Protection and Relief Society.”

Sighing, she said, “I had hoped to delay this decision, but I suppose I have no choice. We shall have to go straight to their orphan asylum. Do you know where it’s located?”

She was relieved when he told her that he did. However, when he added, “I’ve had the sad duty of treating some of those poor little ones,” her spirits plummeted. She and her brothers were now on a totally different social stratum, weren’t they? In a matter of hours they had gone from being part of a middle-class family to being destitute, just like the dirty street urchins who begged along the piers and alleys down by the wharf.

Raising her chin and closing her eyes, Sara Beth vowed that as long as she had breath in her body, her remaining family would never have to beg. She would work somewhere, do something that generated an honest living, no matter how meager, God willing.

And, please Lord, show me how to get our house and belongings back, too, she prayed silently. She didn’t know how she’d manage to accomplish that, but she would not give up trying, no matter what.

There was no need to hurry the horse along once they were in the clear, Taylor concluded. It was nearly morning. Although the city would soon be bustling with its usual daytime activities, there was probably at least an hour more before the keepers of the orphanage would rise and begin to prepare the first meal of the day.

Mulling over the plight of his passengers made him so angry he could barely contain his ire. It was fraud and abuses of the law such as these that had brought about the formation of the Vigilance Committee in the first place. The ballot boxes had been rigged, the honest votes nullified by internal corruption and the offices such as judge and sheriff sold to the highest bidders. Little wonder someone in power had had no trouble getting quick control of the Reese home and laboratory.

His own father and grandfather would have been astounded to hear of the despotism rampant in the city. Reform was urgently needed. And as far as he was concerned, men like him were charged, by their own innate sense of honor, to rise up and facilitate a change.

That was why he had joined the Vigilance Committee and why he was still an active member of the widespread secret society. He might not have been able to help Miss Sara Beth immediately, but he would help her. Someone was going to pay for turning her and her little brothers out into the night. He was going to see to it.

The horse ambled along the Montgomery block of hotels and up Sacramento Street past the four-story brick Rail Road House, a hotel that boasted accommodations for up to two hundred persons at one time, clean bedding and fresh water. The little figure of a locomotive atop its weather vane was said to anticipate San Francisco’s eventual joining with the rest of the States by rail.

Taylor glanced at Sara Beth as he guided his horse up California Street and onto the sweeping, tree-lined drive that led to the orphanage. The building had been, and still was, a palatial private home, although living quarters for the host family were separate from the housing for the orphans and live-in staff. Ella McNeil, the matron, watched over her charges and managed the house with an iron hand. Unlike the Reese children, many of the other orphans had been living on the streets, unsupervised, for months or even years and were therefore in dire need of discipline and moral guidance.

“Miss?” Taylor said quietly. “We’re here.”

Sara Beth opened her eyes and nodded. “I know. I haven’t been asleep.”

“Would you like me to come in with you?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. I can manage Josiah, but I can’t carry them all. And the older boys may be upset when they realize where we are.”

“I understand.”

He climbed down and circled the buggy to assist her.

She passed him Josiah, then gently woke Mathias and Luke. “We need to get out here, boys.”

Mathias rubbed his fists over his eyes and yawned. “Are we home?”

“Not exactly,” Sara Beth said. “We’ll be staying here for a bit while we get Papa’s affairs settled.”

Luke leaned past him to look. “What are we doing here? Where are we?”

“I wanna go home,” Mathias began to wail.

“Give him to me,” the doctor said. “I’ll handle him. You, too, Luke.” He held out his arms and took the boys from her one at a time, setting all but Josiah on the ground at his feet and offering Sara Beth his free hand.

When she placed her smaller, icy fingers in his, he felt an unexpected pang of pity. That would never do. A proud woman like her would surely take offense if she even suspected that he was feeling sorry for her.

She faltered once with a little stumble, causing him to reach to cup her elbow.

“I’m fine, thank you. I can manage,” she said, righting herself and marching proudly up to the ornate front door of the stone-walled mansion. She rapped with the brass knocker and waited.

When the door swung open and the matron saw her, she greeted her with open arms. “Oh, darlin’, I heard what happened. It’s awful. Plum awful. You come right in and make yourself at home. We’re proud to have you.”

As Taylor watched, the stalwart young woman became a child again. Catching back a sob, she fell into Mrs. McNeil’s ample embrace. Taylor could see her shoulders shaking with silent weeping as the older woman patted her on the back. He didn’t want her to suffer, but he knew that the sooner she began to properly grieve her enormous loss, the sooner she’d recover.

“Let’s take the boys in and get them settled,” he suggested as soon as the two women stepped apart.

Ella wiped her eyes with the corner of her starched, white apron. “Land sakes, yes. I’m forgettin’ my manners. You come along, now,” she said to Luke and Mathias. “We’ve got gobs of other boys for you two to meet and a bunk you can share.” She glanced at Josiah in the doctor’s arms. “Do you think the littlest one will be all right in there or shall we send him to stay with the infants?”

Before Taylor could reply, Sara Beth snatched up the baby and shook her head. Her tears were gone except for slight dampness on her cheeks. “Josiah stays with me. I won’t have him put with strangers.”

“Of course, of course.” The matron rubbed the girl’s shoulder through her coat. “It’s been a long, trying night for all of you. We’ll talk more about making permanent arrangements later.”

No one had to tell Taylor what Sara Beth’s reaction to that would be. He knew she’d resist before she opened her mouth.

“There’s no need. We won’t be staying. As soon as I get my father’s business affairs settled I’ll be going back home,” she said flatly. “I did want to discuss possible employment for myself, though. Mother’s needlework was finer than mine, of course, but she was my teacher and I promise to do my very best. Is there a chance I could work for you like Mother once did, Mrs. McNeil?”

Taylor could see that the matron was hesitant. He privately caught her eye and gave a silent, secret nod.

To his relief, she said, “I’m sure we can find something. Perhaps part-time in the kitchen. Would that suit?”

“Anything will do,” Sara Beth said. “If you will show me where to place Josiah while he naps, I can start immediately.”

“Nonsense,” Ella said. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. First, we need to get all of you settled and then fed. When you’ve rested, we’ll talk further.”

Sara Beth’s deep sigh as a result was almost a shudder. “Thank you. I am weary. And there is so much on my mind right now I can hardly think.”

“Little wonder,” the doctor offered. “It’s been a long night for all of us. Will you be all right if I take my leave?”

Whirling, she acted surprised that he was still there. “Of course. And thank you for looking after us.”

“My pleasure,” he said with a slight bow. He touched the brim of his bowler and smiled at the matron, too. “Ladies. If you’ll excuse me?”

He managed to retain the smile until he had turned away and walked back outside. There was a deeply troubling wrong to right and no time to waste. If Abe Warner had been correct in his assumption about the gold samples kept in Reese’s private assay office, it might already be too late to preserve their integrity.

Nevertheless, he had to try. And his first stop was going to be the Coleman house. William T. Coleman was the president of the Vigilance Committee, and although their roster was kept by number rather than by name, most of the members knew whose loyalty could be counted on in an emergency.

Taylor mounted his buggy and shouted to the horse as he snapped the reins. There was no time to waste. A helpless family was being mistreated and he was not going to stand idly by and watch it happen.

The middle-aged gentleman arrived on Pike Street in a cabriolet pulled by a matched pair of sorrel geldings and driven by a hireling in a frock coat and top hat.

As he disembarked in front of the two-story frame house, he grinned. This plan had come together even better than he’d anticipated. With Isabelle dead, too, there was no one left to stand in his way, no one who might know what Robert had discovered and thereby ruin his reputation. Or worse.

He strode up the front walk and onto the porch where he was met by the sheriff and two other rough-looking men.

“Sheriff Scannell,” the gentleman said with a slight nod. He eyed the others with undisguised loathing and didn’t offer to shake anyone’s hand, though his own hands were gloved in pearl kidskin to match his cravat. “I see you’re keeping company with the usual riffraff.”

The sheriff laughed raucously and spit over the porch railing. “Meaning yourself, I suppose, Mr. Bein? You decide yet how you’re goin’ to explain all this?”

Bein grinned. “As long as the losses are credited to Reese instead of to me, I won’t have anything to explain. Harazthy is so engrossed in that new vineyard of his, he barely notices what goes on around the mint.”

“What about the Vigilance Committee? Ain’t you worried about them?”

“Not in the least. I have it on the personal authority of Governor Johnson that Sherman is about to be made Major General of the second division of militia for San Francisco. He’ll soon take care of the vigilantes.”

Scannell shrugged and spat again before wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. “All right. If you say so. It’s your funeral.”

Leering cynically, William Bein snorted approval. “Not my funeral, gentlemen, my partner’s, may he rest in peace.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief folded into the shape of a packet and monogrammed with the initials R.R. “Take this and see that it’s placed in Reese’s workshop, Sheriff. Don’t make it too obvious, but be sure the gold shavings and dust are still in it when it’s found. Do I make myself clear?”

“You think we’d steal from you?”

“In a heartbeat, if you thought you could get away with it,” Bein answered. “Only this time you can’t. We all need that gold to be discovered in Reese’s possession. And since he and Isabelle are both dead, no one will be able to refute the charges against him.”

“What about the girl? She came back here.”

“What? You didn’t let her in, did you?”

“No, sir. We sent her away. She never got out of the buggy.”

His eyes narrowed below bushy, graying brows. “What buggy? Reese didn’t even own a horse, let alone a rig.”

“I think it was that doctor what brought her,” Scannell said. “You know. The young one with the shingle on the second floor over the Wells Fargo office.”

Bein cursed colorfully. “Oh, I know him, all right. He and Coleman are thick as thieves. He’s sure to inform the Vigilance Committee.”

“I thought you said you weren’t worried about them.”

“I’m not. I just don’t want any further trouble over this.” He glanced sideways at the hired thugs who were still standing guard at the corners of the broad porch. “If need be, we may have to eliminate the girl, too.”

“Oh, now, I don’t know as I like that idea,” the sheriff said, edging away from the well-dressed man. “She’s just a young thing. Pretty, too. It’s bad enough her mama had to die the way she did.”

“Only because she stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong,” Bein countered. “You lost one of yours in the gunfight, you know.”

“I know. But Billy wasn’t all that bright to start with. He never should of showed himself when he shot Reese.” He was slowly shaking his head as he spoke. “Is it true that the woman got him?”

“That’s my understanding,” Bein answered. “Which should prove to you that her daughter may be someone to be reckoned with. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to go to jail just because some stupid woman points an accusing finger at me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Nodding soberly, Scannell perused the broad street. “All right. You look into it and get word to me if you need me to eliminate the girl, too. I won’t like it, but I’ll see that it’s done.”

“Good man. And keep your mouth shut about this,” he added, eyeing the packet of gold the sheriff was about to deposit in Robert Reese’s workroom. “Now, go get rid of that evidence like I told you to.”

“What’ll you be doing?” the sheriff asked.

“Offering my condolences to my partner’s grieving family,” Bein said with a self-satisfied smile. “As soon as I find out where the children went, their loving uncle Will is going to offer them a nice settlement and see that they have passage on the next ship back to Massachusetts, where their parents came from.”

“You think they’ll go? Just like that?”

“When they learn that this house and everything in it has legally passed to me upon the death of their father, I don’t see what other choice those little brats will have, do you?”

Chapter Four

The more time Sara Beth spent at the orphanage, the more she remembered about her early life there. Although she had been five when Mama had married Papa Robert, there were familiar smells and noises in that big old house that tugged at her consciousness and made her heart pound.

Friends she had made back then, children she fondly remembered, were, of course, long gone. Those who had come along later and replaced them, however, were so like the ones she recalled that she suddenly pictured herself as very young. And very scared.

Lucas and Mathias had quickly found other boys to interest them and had wandered off to explore the facility, while Josiah had fallen asleep in Sara Beth’s arms. She didn’t mind carrying him. Truth to tell, she was loath to even consider putting him down. It was as if she needed the little one’s nearness to comfort her, rather than the other way around.

“Let’s get you something to eat and a nice cup of hot tea,” the matron said, ushering Sara Beth into the expansive kitchen where several other women were already hard at work.

The aroma from the pot of gruel bubbling on the top of the woodstove nearly turned Sara Beth’s stomach. That was another of those old, pungent memories, this one best forgotten, she realized with the first whiff. Mama had never prepared that kind of breakfast for any of her family after they’d left the orphans’ home, and Sara Beth assumed that memories of being destitute were at the heart of her mother’s choices. That certainly made sense.

She blinked in the steamy atmosphere, hoping she was not going to disgrace herself by becoming ill. She knew Mrs. McNeil did her best to stretch the meager rations and was not to be faulted if their palatability suffered as a result. That conclusion, however, did little to relieve her unsettled stomach.

“Ladies, this is Miss Sara Beth Reese, an old friend and former resident,” Ella told the other women. They looked up from their labors and she pointed to each in turn. “That’s Mrs. Clara Nelson, our cook, and Mattie Coombs, her helper.”

Sara Beth managed a wan smile. “How do you do?”

“Fair to middlin’,” Clara said with an impish grin, made more amusing by her twinkling blue eyes, apple cheeks and snow-white hair. “You visitin’ or stayin’?”

“Visiting. But I do want to make myself useful while I’m here. I’ll be glad to help however I can.”

Mattie snorted as if in disbelief, turning her thin wiry body back to the stove. Clara welcomed the offer. “You surely can,” she said. “As soon as you’ve eaten a bite you can help me serve the boys while Mattie takes care of the girls.”

“Oh, good. My brothers are here, too, and I’d like to look in on them.”

Mattie huffed. “I knowed she was stayin’. She’s got that look about her. Same as they all get.”

Did she? Sara Beth supposed there was a lost quality to her demeanor, although she was not about to openly acknowledge it under the present circumstances. As soon as she had a chance to talk to Mrs. McNeil in private, however, she intended to tell her everything and ask for advice.

The more she pondered the situation, the more she felt there had to be a connection between what she’d overheard her parents discussing and their untimely deaths. Not that their conversation made much sense, even in retrospect.

For one thing, Papa had mentioned someone he worked with in a disparaging manner. The Reese family had treated his partner, William Bein, as part of their intimate circle, including him in social events and even asking the children to call him “Uncle Will.” Surely he could not be responsible for anything that had happened.

But there certainly could be other nefarious forces at work, she reasoned. Papa had often expressed disdain for Sheriff Scannell, and that man was proving every bit as disreputable as rumor had painted him. Plus, there was the gold to consider. Anyone who knew that Papa worked for the new mint must also assume he would have samples of gold on hand in his lab. Sara Beth knew many a man had died for riches, especially in the years since 1849.

Reviewing the tragedy, her thoughts drifted to her new benefactor, Dr. Taylor Hayward. His was a difficult profession, one that rarely produced a better cure than most grannies could mix up from their favorite roots and berries. Men like him were an asset to the wounded in wartime, of course, but otherwise might just as well stay in their offices and let the citizenry treat themselves for the ague and such.

Chagrined, she felt empathy for the man. He had obviously attempted to help her parents, and for that effort alone she was grateful. His lack of ability was less his fault than the fact that doctors were little more than hand-holders and tonic dispensers—unless they had served on the battlefield or studied in one of those fancy hospitals back east. At least that was what Papa had always said when he’d gotten sick after spending long, tedious hours in his lab.

Dr. Hayward’s presence at the scene of carnage on the wharf had been very comforting, she admitted. But then, so had Abe Warner’s, and his calling was not in the healing arts.

Thoughts of the kindly old man brought a slight smile to her face. In a day or so, after she got her thoughts sorted out and decided what course to take, she’d have to walk over to the Cobweb Palace, thank Abe for everything and assure him that he needn’t worry.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it as a sigh, Sara Beth realized that she had no certainty that her family would be all right. The way things looked, she would be fortunate to salvage their personal belongings, let alone reclaim the house on Pike Street. And if Papa Robert’s laboratory was not safeguarded, there was no telling how much trouble the mint might cause her.

Surely they wouldn’t expect her to be responsible, would they? The sheriff was the one who had moved in and posted guards. Therefore if there were any discrepancies, the explanation for those should lie at Scannell’s doorstep.

Only that particular lawman’s reputation was built on graft, not honor, according to the talk she’d overheard at church and in her own parlor. His election had been questioned from the beginning, and ballot boxes with false bottoms had been written about in the evening Bulletin. Its publisher, Mr. James King, had been crusading against corruption in San Francisco for months and had even withstood threats on his life in order to continue to print the truth.

“That’s what I’ll do,” Sara Beth murmured, elated by her idea. “As soon as I have a chance, I’ll pen a letter to the newspaper and ask for information about my parents’ murders.”

Would Mr. King print such a thing? Oh, yes. He was an honorable gentleman who stood firm against the riffraff and evildoers who lurked among the good people of the city. He would gladly print her missive. And then perhaps she’d see her parents avenged.

Thoughts of allies and admirable men brought Dr. Hayward to mind once again. Not only did he cut a fine figure, there had been benevolence and caring in his gaze. As soon as she was able, she planned to somehow repay his kindnesses. Until then, she would simply take each moment, each hour, each day, one at a time.

To sensibly contemplate the future, when her heart was breaking and her mind awhirl, was more than difficult. It was impossible.

The sun was rising and the city was coming to life as Taylor drove slowly down crowded Sacramento Street and past the What Cheer House. Hotels had proliferated in San Francisco until there were nearly sixty, although none quite as accommodating as the one R. B. Woodward ran, especially if a fellow wanted a warm, clean bath and a decent meal.

Freight wagons and vendors made up the bulk of the traffic to and from the docks. This was not the best time of day to be trying to squeeze a flimsy doctor’s buggy through the main streets, wide though they were, so Taylor headed for the livery stable to leave his rig and complete his errands on foot.

There were times, like now, when he almost wished he were back studying at Massachusetts General Hospital. He had been happiest while learning his trade, always eager to follow successful medical men on their rounds and observe the latest techniques. Everyone agreed that the best teaching hospitals were in Germany but given the state of his purse, such a trip was impossible. Someday, perhaps, he’d manage to travel overseas to study. In the meantime, his place was right here in San Francisco.

“Helping Miss Reese,” he added with conviction. He had not been in time to save her parents, but he was going to assist her in every way possible. It was the least he could do.

Leaving his horse and buggy, he made his way along the boarded walk to the Plaza on Portsmouth Square and passed the Hall of Records. As soon as he’d talked to Coleman he’d come back here and see if he could find out who owned the house in which Sara Beth and her family had lived. If, as the sheriff had claimed, it belonged to the government, then he didn’t see how she’d ever win it back.

The thought of that sweet, innocent young woman having to take up permanent residence at the orphanage cut him to the quick. Yes, it was well-run. And, yes, it was useful as a temporary shelter. But that was where his approval ended. The place was too cramped, too crowded, and that meant that chances of sickness rose appreciably, especially when summer miasma engulfed the city.

He wasn’t sure he believed the experts who claimed that the air itself caused illness, but he did know from experience that the more children who were housed together, the greater the chances that they would catch whatever diseases their companions suffered from. That was a given. And as long as the Reese children and their sister resided with the other orphans, they would be in mortal danger.

The day sped past. Sara Beth saw to it that her brothers were settled in the boys’ dormitory and had gone with their fellows to afternoon classes at a nearby school. This new life seemed to suit them a lot better than it did her and Josiah. The little boy had fussed most of the day, wearing her patience thin until she had finally agreed to let him be taken to spend the daylight hours with the other babies under the age of three.

Their parting had brought tears to her eyes, especially when he had begun to sob and reach for her. “No, you need to go with Mrs. McNeil,” Sara Beth had said firmly. “Sister has work to do and I can’t do it if I’m toting you around.” She’d patted his damp cheek in parting. “Be a good boy, now. I’ll pick you up after I finish my evening chores. I promise.”

Now, up to her elbows in dishwater, she started to yearn for her former life, then stopped herself. “Don’t,” she said softly. “That’s gone. Over. You have to make do. Mama did and you can, too.”

“That’s the spirit,” Clara said as she added more soiled tin plates to the stack by the sink. “Never give up and you’ll be much happier. I know I am.”

“Have you worked here long?” Sara Beth asked.

“Since my Charlie passed on. Cholera got him right after we arrived. We was goin’ to start a little restaurant and get our share of the gold dust the honest way.” She sighed, her ample chest rising and falling noticeably with the effort. “I figure at least this way, my skills in the kitchen aren’t going to waste.”

“I wish I were talented in some special way,” Sara Beth said. “Mama had been training me to keep a nice house, just as she did. Beyond that I know very little.”

“You can read and write, can’t you?”

“Yes. Of course. As a matter of fact, there is a letter I plan to pen as soon as I have a spare moment. Do you know where I can find paper and ink?”

“Ella can give you whatever you need,” Clara said with a smile. “I swan, that woman could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

“She is amazing, isn’t she? I don’t know what I’d have done if she hadn’t let me stay.”

“What about your parents? Are they both gone?”

Sara Beth nodded solemnly. “Yes. I shall have to pay to have them buried and I haven’t a cent.”

“There’s plenty of paupers’ graves in Yerba Buena Cemetery. That’s where my Charlie is laid to rest. The only thing that bothers me is not having a headstone. Practically no one does, so I guess that makes us all equal, rich and poor.”

“I suppose so. Mr. Warner has promised to make the arrangements for me.”

“Old Abe Warner? Then let him. He may live like poor folks but that saloon of his has to be rakin’ in the gold dust by the bucketful. How’d you come to know him, a fine lady like you?”

That question amused Sara Beth. “Mama loved his menagerie. We used to take our constitutionals down by the waterfront and we’d often stop to feed the monkeys or those beautiful big birds he kept. I even saw a bear there once.”

“I reckon he needs all those critters to clean up the garbage. From the looks of his place, he could use a few more, too.” She chuckled, then added, “That’s better. I know you could smile if you tried.”

“I hate to. I mean, it seems wrong, somehow. My family has been decimated and we’re in such dire straits we may never recover, yet part of me feels a sense of joy.”

“That’s the Lord tellin’ you He’s got the answers,” Clara offered. “They may be a while in comin’ and may not be the ones you asked for, but He’ll look after his children. I’ve been sure of that ever since I walked through these doors and found my own place of refuge.”

“Do you think it’s ungrateful of me to wish to leave?” Sara Beth asked.

“No, dear, not at all. Just keep an open mind and heart and listen to God’s leading.”

“Even when I feel as if I’m spinning in circles?”

“Especially then,” the cook said, pausing to give her a motherly hug. “Now, get to washin’ them dishes so we can bank the stove and get ready for bed. I don’t know about you, but I’m plum tuckered out.”

Turning back to the pan of sudsy water, Sara Beth gave silent thanks that Clara was such a wise woman. Now that Mama was gone she’d need friendly counsel like hers and Ella’s in order to reform her life, plan her future.

Was it possible to decide anything this soon? she wondered absently. Not really. What she could do, however, was follow through on her idea to contact the Bulletin and see if they would champion her cause in regard to her home. They had often taken up the needs of the community and had revealed corruption in city government in spite of threats to their presses and persons. Surely, given this situation, Mr. King would take pity on her plight.

But first he must be properly informed, she added. Her jaw muscles clenched and she nodded to affirm her decision. As soon as she had brought Josiah to her cot in the girls’ quarters and had gotten him settled for the night, she would begin to write to the newspaper.

Such a letter would require much thought and careful expression but she was capable. Her penmanship was beautiful and her mind keen. All she’d have to do was make certain she didn’t alienate too many important people and yet stated her case in indisputable terms.

Such a goal seemed unattainable, yet Sara Beth was resolute. She could not hope to seize control of her assets by force so she would do it by her wits.

Finishing the dishes, she toted the heavy dishpan to the back door and threw the water onto the steps to clean them, too. At home, she might have tarried long enough to sweep the porch, but not tonight.

Tonight she had a letter to write. A letter that might very well be the most significant missive she had ever composed.

Taylor Hayward had been disappointed in his earlier meeting with W. T. Coleman. The man had been too secretive to please him and had beat around the bush regarding what the Vigilance Committee might be able to do in respect to the contested Reese holdings.

“That’s up to Bein,” Coleman had insisted. “He was Reese’s partner and as such has control of the assay office.”

“Fine. But what about the family home at the same address? Surely we can’t allow him to pitch the surviving family members out into the streets.”

Coleman’s thin shoulders shrugged and he blanched enough that his already pale skin whitened visibly. “It’s not that simple. Not anymore. Governor Johnson is talking about putting that general, Sherman, in charge of the militia, and Mayor Van Ness agrees. If they do that, we’re in trouble.”

“I’ve never known you to back down from a fair fight,” Taylor said.

“I didn’t say I was backing down. I’m just telling you that it would be wiser to bide our time. All the newspapers except the Herald are already on our side.”

“Which is to be expected since James Casey is running it and he’s as crooked as they come,” the doctor argued. “I’d heard that Casey was thrown out of the Drexel, Sather and Church building by Sherman himself over an editorial so full of lies that even a mule could have recognized its falseness.”

“Doesn’t matter. We still have to tread softly.”

Taylor was beside himself. He paced across the office, then wheeled to face the man he had been counting on for aid. “Suppose there’s more to it than what appears on the surface? Suppose Bein is trying to pull a fast one on the government? What then?”

“Then the sheriff should be in charge.” Coleman raised his hands, palms out, as if prepared to physically defend himself. “I know, I know. Scannell bought the office for a whole lot more than he’ll ever earn legally. That’s common knowledge. But it doesn’t change anything. We can’t wrest control of the whole city from the hands of those criminals unless we’re sure of major citizen support. That’s all there is to it.”

“What will it take to gain that?”

“I don’t know,” the obviously weary and worried businessman said. “But we can’t continue this way for long. When the time is right, we will act, I promise you.”

“What if it’s too late for the Reese children?”

“That can’t be helped.” Coleman ran a slim finger beneath his starched collar as if his cravat were choking him. “I’m not looking forward to the bloodshed that may result.”

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