The Doctor's Newfound Family. Valerie Hansen

      “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