Page 11 of Whispers of Fortune (Golden State Treasure Book #1)

E LEVEN

“You’ll stay at Brody’s tonight.” Ellie dismounted.

Josh caught the reins of all the horses. “I’ll put them up. You two, get inside.”

None of them were cold anymore. They’d been riding in warm weather for hours, so the boys weren’t in desperate straits.

Annie emerged from the back door of the main house, carrying a kettle Ellie recognized as a stewpot. Annie would have been keeping it warm all this time and watching for them.

The boys fell off their horses more than dismounted. Brody watched them with a furrowed brow and sad eyes.“Give yourselves a few days to regain your strength before you run off again,” Ellie said with ample sarcasm.

Lock responded to that by collapsing. Brody was on his knees beside his brother instantly. Ellie decided to stay by Thayne.

“He’s probably just out on his feet. But it’s not a natural sleep.” Brody stood, then hoisted his little brother, who wasn’t that little, into his arms. Ellie ran ahead and got the door open. Brody took Lock into his examining room, and they followed him in. Annie set the pot on the stove and busied herself setting out plates and utensils on the small table in the same room as Lock. Ellie looked around and saw that Annie had kept busy today. The house was more fully furnished.

“We’ve set up two beds in the smaller bedroom and moved the boys’ things over.” Annie looked at Thayne. “Come and eat or you’ll be the next one to collapse. Ellie, you stay and make sure they’re fed. I’ll go get Josh a meal. Caroline is asleep. I shouldn’t have left her alone in the house.”

Annie scooped up food on one tin plate only and tapped her ladle hard against it. Too hard.

Ellie flinched. Her sister was annoyed, and Ellie couldn’t blame her. These two imps had made this day much harder than it should have been.

She left and closed the door with a slam.

Thayne gave his brother a worried look. As if he couldn’t resist, he went to the table and sat. He wolfed down the food. Ellie would have told him to stop, but instead she took a seat across from him and ate with almost as much enthusiasm.

As soon as her plate was clean, she went to Brody. Lock’s eyes were open now.

“Is he able to sit up, Brody? Good food and some rest will probably fix him up.”

Brody nodded, and together they eased Lock to sit up. With Brody’s arm slung around his brother’s back, they walked him back to the table.

Ellie quickly filled two plates, then gave Thayne seconds, herself too. The four of them sat there eating in silence. At last, as her plate emptied again and her belly quit complaining, she said quietly, “I think we need to work out a plan where you MacKenzies can hunt for the gold—”

“Treasure,” Lock interrupted.

Ellie resisted slapping him on the back of the head. “Treasure, then. You’re obviously very determined, and we don’t want any more incidents like today. Boys, please don’t run off again. And, Brody, you need to find a safe and orderly way to search for the treasure with your brothers.”

The boys, exhausted and nearly asleep on their feet, perked up enough to look at Brody, who nodded and said, “Fine, we’ll search for it. I’ll get the journal out tomorrow evening after you’re back from classes, and we’ll start planning.” He eyed his brothers. “Is that good enough for you? Will you please agree not to run away again?”

“We’re sorry, Brody,” Thayne said, his head lowered. “We just sort of ran wild when you took the journal away. It felt like our last chance at MacKenzie’s Treasure, so we went after it. I promise not to run off again.”

They all looked at Lock, who didn’t speak, but he was on his third helping of supper, so maybe he wasn’t plotting another escape.

A dull thud sounded from under the table.

“Ouch!” Lock glared at Thayne. Ellie suspected Thayne had just kicked his brother in the ankle.

“I promise too.” Then Lock turned to Brody. “I mean it, I won’t run off again. That mountain is a lot farther away and a lot colder than we expected. We’ll come up with a plan, and we’ll do it with your approval and help.”

Brody nodded at Lock. “Now let’s get you both up to bed. It’s late.”

Tilda was exhausted and had been for days. She’d lost the MacKenzie boys somewhere in Cheyenne, Wyoming. When the boys vanished, she figured they’d hopped off the train, waited until she wasn’t looking, and had gotten right back on. With all their whispering about gold, she doubted very much they hopped back off until they’d reached Sacramento, California.

Sutter’s Mill. The destination of the forty-niners during the gold rush was close to Sacramento, which was a large city. How could she ever find those boys there? And had they stopped there or traveled on? They’d been missing for going on two months now. The thought of finding them was overwhelming.

Tilda rode on day and night, through storms and long stretches of silence. Finally, what seemed like endless prairie gave way to majestic mountains that took her breath away.

Every time the train stopped, she wandered whatever small town it happened to be and asked about the boys. In a big city like New York, two mostly grown boys might slip into an alley and live without anyone noticing. But in these small western towns, if someone saw two boys alone, no doubt skulking around searching for a meal, they’d be remembered for sure.

In Fort Bridger, Wyoming, someone remembered a rash of thievery right about the time the boys would have been passing through. Only food was stolen, and it was put down to stray dogs or hungry children. But that explanation didn’t satisfy everyone, so it was discussed and remembered.

In Reno, Nevada, she heard a report on the boys that made her feel like she was indeed on the right path.

“Why, yes, those boys were here,” a woman said, stepping out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. “At the time you’re asking about, two boys showed up at the back door of my diner. They seemed like good boys, but very hungry. I could see they were in a bad way. I saw no sign of parents, and usually when folks get off the train, they eat at my diner, so I’d have noticed a family with two boys. I feared that something had gone wrong for the boys; I tried to get them to tell me what trouble they were facing. They denied any such trouble, only offering to work to pay for a meal.”

Tilda nodded. “Two boys. One taller and with dark hair? They’re brothers, and the younger one has blond hair.”

“That has to be them,” the woman replied. “Said their names were Joe and John Smith. I suspected they were lying, but I didn’t fuss about it. They offered to sweep up or wash dishes. I let them do both. Told them to eat first, though. No hungry boy is going to come to my door and walk away without a full belly. I was a little afraid they’d eat and then run off, although I wasn’t about to scold them if they tried that. In the end, they were a lot of help to me and more than earned their meals. I invited them to stay around for a while longer, but when that train whistle blew, they were off and running.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Tilda, “for helping them out. Those boys’ real names are Thayne and Lochlan MacKenzie. They were riding on an orphan train, and I was in charge of them. I wasn’t watching them closely enough, and they jumped on the train that was pulling out and rode away. I didn’t even know they were gone for quite a while.”

The lady kindly nodded. “There are other small towns ahead and water tanks where there are no towns. The train had to stop every fifteen miles or so to fill up, but I’d say the boys were headed for California. I heard them talking, something about a treasure. It made me think of the gold fields. I don’t know for certain, of course, but the way they ran for the train told me they had a destination clearly in mind.” She paused, then added, “I watched to see that they made the train, and if not, to fetch them back here. I never saw them climb on as any regular passenger would have. I suspect they stowed away. Railroad detectives and conductors can be harsh on unpaid riders. ’Course, if they were riding since Cheyenne, I suppose they found a good hiding place. I surely hope so.”

“Thank you again for your help. It eases my worries knowing they got a good meal here.” Tilda gave a sigh. “But only a bit. I’ve no idea what they are after.”

Tilda reached Sacramento at last, although she had no idea how to find two resourceful ... or to be more exact, two sneaky young men in such a big town. As she sat there thinking, she felt a bit overwhelmed and demoralized. Did Sacramento have street urchins like New York did? After praying for inspiration, it occurred to her that a parson might know where to find children around here who had no home.

When she got an idea while praying, she took it very seriously. Gathering her strength, she stood, took a firm hold of her satchel, and headed down the cobblestone street. She set out to see what the business section of the town looked like. Along the way she kept her eyes open for ragamuffin children, churches, and a sheriff’s office. Information might be gained from any of those three sources.

Tilda had been walking for a while when she came to a crowd of people exiting a small white church. It was the first time she wondered what day of the week it was. She had to guess Sunday.

An older man with a Roman collar shook hands as folks left the building. Several friendly people greeted her. With a smile pasted on her face, she nodded at each of them.

A nicely dressed woman, standing beside a man—no doubt he was her husband—noticed Tilda and came down the steps. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Moore. Parson Moore is my husband. Are you new in town?”

“I’m Tilda Muirhead. Yes, I’ve just stepped off the train.”

“I heard it pull in. It creates a real commotion, and this morning it arrived right during my husband’s sermon. He had to speak up.”

“I’m in town searching for a pair of young boys who are runaways. I have no idea if they stopped in Sacramento, but I have reason to believe they came at least this far. I was with them in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and I’ve been after them ever since. It occurred to me that a parson may know if two boys with no parents have been seen in town.”

Mrs. Moore’s brow furrowed as she listened. She rested a hand gently on Tilda’s arm. “You poor thing, you must be worried sick.”

Tilda nodded and felt the burn of tears. Mrs. Moore’s kindness almost did her in. She fought back the urge to start crying and dump all her problems on this kind lady.

“Have you eaten? I have a chicken roasting at home, and it’s more than my husband and I can eat. It’s just the two of us these days. We’d love company. I can’t think of two boys wandering around in town lately, but my husband might have noticed something. And if he hasn’t, he’ll know who to ask next.” Mrs. Moore’s arm slid across Tilda’s back. “Please, come with me.” She waved at her husband, then pointed to the house next door.

He nodded his understanding. Mrs. Moore then guided Tilda to the first comfortable place she’d seen in a long time. The warmth of it almost made her burst into tears.

Loyal had been forced to hand over the key to his parents’ front door. They didn’t know he’d made a copy of the key that unlocked the French doors that led from the garden into the ballroom. He’d known better than to steal the actual key, as Father paid too much attention to detail for it to go missing. But Loyal had thought to make a copy before their last ugly fight. He’d picked this less-used door deliberately, hoping Father wouldn’t change the locks on every door in the house. Turning the key, feeling the well-oiled lock give way with a quiet click, gave Loyal deep pleasure.

Father never should have turned him out. The whole world was told the story that Father was displeased with his son for treating his fiancée poorly. But that was just part of what had happened. Loyal had helped himself to money from Father’s bank. And from Father’s safe. And to pieces of Mother’s jewelry. Loyal had turned up drunk a few too many times. He had a liking for a good poker game, and the ticking of a roulette wheel made his mouth water.

Yes, Loyal had kept his mistress in fine style, but that was something he’d learned from his father.

Mother had to know about the string of women Father kept. Yet nothing was ever said about it. It was only later that Loyal learned he wasn’t supposed to let Beth Ellen Hart know about his mistress, at least not until the ink was dry on the marriage license.

Beth Ellen had found out and had broken off their engagement. Father had been disgusted with Loyal’s carelessness, but it was the gambling and stealing that had been Father’s last straw.

How was Loyal to know Father had a last straw? He was rich beyond belief, and he’d always turned a blind eye to Loyal’s expensive hobbies. That is, until he hadn’t.

Slipping through the ballroom, Loyal made his way to Father’s office. The house was dark. Loyal had watched as the lights went out one by one before he’d come in. Once in Father’s office, Loyal moved to the picture hanging on the wall behind his father’s desk, tipped it sideways, and with his fingers trembling with excitement, he opened the safe.

The old fool hadn’t changed the combination lock.

Swinging the safe door open, he saw the stacks of bills Father liked to have on hand at all times.

Loyal might be able to help himself again if he could avoid detection, so he reached behind the cash that was up front and pulled out a few nice-sized stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Loyal had worked in Father’s bank for years, and he judged the stacks to amount to two thousand dollars. On impulse, he reached in again and took a few more stacks and itched to take it all.

He resisted with a grim scowl. It should all be his.

Tucking the cash in his pockets—he’d been sure to wear clothes that had generous pockets—he crept up the back stairs. Had Father thrown Loyal’s clothes out? Had he stripped the room clean?

Mother had always been staunchly protective of her only son. He hoped her sentiment had kept the room as a shrine. Or maybe she’d kept it hoping Loyal would be restored to her loving arms one day.

Sonny had said Loyal needed to steal enough money to dress himself up. But if he could just steal one good set of clothes, he’d be able to keep the money. All this because Sonny had heard stories about buried treasure.

Well, it’d be fun to search for it, and so Loyal played along.

He vividly remembered which floorboards squeaked from years of sneaking in late at night. And not many squeaked. Such things annoyed Father. He went into his old room.

It was a shrine for a fact. Good old Mother had kept Loyal’s room just the way it was when he left it. He went straight to his dressing room and then to the large closet. It held all his clothes. Probably out of style now. Loyal hadn’t asked if that was important to Sonny’s plan. Just who were they trying to impress anyway?

Loyal found a satchel on the floor and quickly filled it with a suit and shirt, boots, a neckcloth. Everything a well-turned-out gentleman needed.

He stepped out of the closet just as a lantern lit up. Whirling toward the light, he saw Father.

A grim-looking old man. He’d had gray hair the last time they’d met, but now it’d gone all white. His shoulders were bowed, and there were deep creases in his face.

“I see you’ve stooped to housebreaking now.” Father sounded disgusted. And tired.

Loyal hadn’t seen him in years. They didn’t run in the same circles these days.

“You look like you could use a change of clothes.” Father’s eyes slid over the jacket Loyal wore. His eyes paused on Loyal’s bulging pockets. “How much did you steal?” Father huffed out a laugh with no humor in it. “I never thought to change all the locks and change the combination on the safe. Foolish error.”

“You’ve gotten old.” Loyal felt a strange desire to hurt this man. “You should have kept your son close. I could have taken some of the workload off your shoulders.”

“The bank would have folded at the rate you were stealing money from it. That added to the load. I made the right choice to get rid of you. Now take what you’ve stolen and don’t come back. You won’t be able to get in a second time.”

Loyal walked toward Father and stopped when they were face-to-face. Their eyes met and clashed. They’d always been the same height, though now Loyal was taller. Father had shrunk with the passing of time.

“You’re not even going to try and stop me?”

“I’m putting a stop to this, but no. I don’t trust you not to turn violent. You look worn down, drunk as usual. But I’m sure you could still do harm. You’re bloated up. Those clothes may not fit you anymore.”

Then Father’s eyes changed. Loyal saw something in them he hadn’t seen since he was a child. Not love. Father didn’t go for such soft emotions. But maybe there was a wish in Father’s gaze.

“If you made promises to me, Loyal, we could try again. I wouldn’t trust you, at least not at first. Money would be locked away, and you’d have no access to funds at the bank or to your mother’s jewels. But if you want to get off of this dark trail you’ve set your feet upon, we could try. You could come home. Your mother would like that.”

It wasn’t begging, and Loyal would have liked to see the old man beg. But it was close, and it gave him some satisfaction.

“Here’s my answer.” Loyal slammed a fist into his father’s stomach. With a dull grunt, Father clutched his belly, curled forward, and slumped to the floor. Loyal snatched the lantern out of Father’s hand to keep it from breaking on the floor, maybe burning the mansion down. The idea had merit, but not today.

Standing over him, Loyal set the lantern aside and said, “I chose to punch you in the stomach so you’d have no bruises on your face that needed explaining. You’re welcome.”

He picked up his satchel, smiling as he patted the cash in his pockets. Then he left the room, and left his father in a heap on the floor. He went down the back stairs and out through the ballroom. He didn’t bother locking the door behind him.