Wilderness Courtship. Valerie Hansen

for him. In the space of a few brief days and nights she had grown to love the little darling as if he were her own and it pained her to see him so rejected and forlorn.

      Leaving the portly, confused-looking man behind, Thorne led Naomi to the settee in the parlor where she perched primly on the edge of the velvet-covered cushions as if she were visiting strangers.

      “I can’t stay long,” she said, removing her gloves and tucking them into her reticule. “Mama is waiting for me and she doesn’t like it when I’m late for supper.”

      “Where is your mother?” Charity asked.

      “Just up the road, I think.” Naomi frowned momentarily. “I’m not really sure. I seem to be lost. But I know Mama will take care of me as soon as I can get home. She loves me, you know.”

      “I’m sure she does,” Charity answered. Looking to Thorne she saw that he, too, was at a loss as to how best to respond.

      “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and have dinner with us,” Charity said. “I’m sure your mama would want you to.”

      “Do you think so?”

      “Yes, dear, I do. Mrs. Montgomery is roasting a brace of California quail that one of our guests brought us.” She raised her head to sniff and added, “They smell delicious, don’t they? And you must be famished.”

      Naomi nodded, still seeming befuddled. “Yes, I guess I am hungry. I don’t know why I should be, though. Mama made me a wonderful breakfast this morning.”

      Eyeing Thorne to make sure he understood that she expected him to stay close by and observe, Charity said, “Actually, I need to go help in the kitchen and set the table. Would you two mind watching Jacob for me while I do that? He’s a good little boy so I know you won’t have any problems with him.”

      When Naomi didn’t answer, Thorne held out his arms and took the child from Charity. “We’ll be glad to, ma’am. Let us know if we can be of any other assistance.”

      Seeing the subdued two-year-old clinging to his uncle’s neck while Thorne gently patted his back gave Charity a surprising pang of longing and blurred her vision enough that she turned and hurried away to hide her emotional reaction. That was what love should be like, she concluded. Simple and pure and safe, the way the child trusted that hardheaded yet tenderhearted man.

      Too bad adult love couldn’t be like that, she added, recalling her horrid marital experience. If she’d learned anything from her frightful days as Ramsey Tucker’s wife it was that she wanted no part of the intimacy that marriage demanded. All she could recall of the few nights when he had accosted her was her own sobs and the way he had beaten her into silence. The only good thing about that was the oblivion of semiconsciousness that had spared her from feeling or hearing most of his disgusting advances.

      Biting back tears, Charity busied herself by spreading a fresh linen cloth on the long, rectangular dining table and beginning to place the dishes and silverware. It had been a long time since she had questioned her current life or had entertained the slightest notion that there might be a different kind of happiness waiting for her just over the horizon. That notion was staggering. And frightening.

      Rejecting it outright, she reminded herself that she was perfectly content to look after her dear papa and tend to the chores of the hotel. That was her lot in life and she was comfortable with it.

      So why did she suddenly feel such a stirring of dissatisfaction? The Good Lord had rescued her from servitude to an evil, disreputable man and had reunited her with her loved ones. Why wasn’t she the happiest woman in San Francisco—or in the whole country, for that matter?

      “I am happy. And I love it here,” she murmured.

      Mrs. Montgomery chuckled from across the room as she used a corner of her apron to blot perspiration from her forehead. “I’m right glad to hear that,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, girl.”

      “You don’t have to fret about that,” Charity said. “I’m never going to leave Papa. I promised him that long ago and I aim to keep my word.”

      Thorne held the child close and continued to stroke his back while Naomi prattled on about her life as a little girl. There was no doubt in Thorne’s mind that his sister-in-law was a very sick woman. What he could hope to do about that without Aaron to help him was a different question.

      The searchers had narrowed down the possibilities of Aaron’s disappearance to one of two packet boats that had left the harbor with the mail soon after his abduction. That, or he had been spirited away overland, which was an unlikely scenario given the inherent difficulties in getting all the way back to New York via that route. Thorne had to assume that delivering Aaron to Louis was the kidnapper’s assignment, else why take him at all?

      No, Thorne had reasoned, they had to have left the city by sea. Since there was no use trying to catch up to the individual boats at this late date he had telegraphed ahead and already had dozens of men working on the puzzle. Until one of them wired back that he had located Aaron, there was nothing for Thorne to do but keep his vigil at the hotel.

      He was relieved when Mrs. Montgomery summoned everyone for dinner. As soon as his gaze met Charity’s he shook his head slightly in answer to her unspoken query.

      She relieved Naomi of her hat, gloves and reticule, then guided her to the same chair she had occupied the last time she and Aaron had eaten at that table, hoping it might trigger her memory. It didn’t.

      Thorne took a seat opposite his sister-in-law and gave Jacob the chair beside him, as usual. Many of the guests they had met during their stay had moved on. At present there was only Charity and her father, the proprietress and the young desk clerk, Thorne, Jacob, Naomi and two single men sharing the table. To Thorne’s disgust, one of them resembled the fool who had tried to take Naomi out for a stroll and the other was the prattling idiot who had delayed him so long that she had almost escaped.

      Thorne tried to make polite conversation with Charity while tolerating the other men for the sake of propriety. He was running out of things to say when a gangly, hatless youth with black elastic bands holding up his shirtsleeves burst into the hotel. His boots clomped on the wooden floor as he made straight for the dining room.

      “Mr. Blackwell. I’m plumb glad I found you,” he said, panting and looking extremely agitated.

      Thorne’s breath caught when he recognized the telegrapher. He pushed back his chair and stood. “What is it? Do you have news?”

      “Yes, sir.” The younger man handed him a slip of paper.

      Reading it, Thorne tried to hide his distress. One quick glance at Charity’s concerned expression told him he had failed.

      She arose and circled her chair to join him. Gently laying her hand on his coat sleeve she urged him to share the message. “What have you learned?”

      “They’re absolutely certain that they traced Aaron and two other men to the port of Los Angeles, where they all boarded a ship bound for New York, as I had suspected they might.”

      “Then that’s good news, isn’t it?”

      He shook his head. His heart was pounding and the hand that held the paper was trembling. “No. Not if he actually was aboard the El Dorado, as they believe. That ship just sank in a hurricane off the coast of Mexico with all hands reported lost.”

      Feeling Charity’s fingers tighten on his forearm and seeing the compassion in her blue eyes, he covered her hand with his before he said, “It appears Jacob has no one left to look after him and his mother but me.”

      “What are you going to do?” Charity asked softly.

      “I don’t know.”

      From across the table, Naomi spoke as if she hadn’t understood a thing they’d just said. “I must be going home to my mama soon. She’ll be worried.”

      Thorne’s gaze traveled from Naomi