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