The canvas walls rippled with movement each time someone entered the building, and the thin wood floors were hollow as I walked across them. Why couldn’t a man like Cole Goodman get out of a building like this if it was on fire? Unless he was trapped in one of the brick or adobe buildings in town. I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps the fire wouldn’t affect Bess’s Place.
I didn’t want to stay around and find out.
The men were louder as I passed through the dining room and stepped into the kitchen. Sam, Paddy, and the children still sat at the table. They ate quietly as I closed the door, shutting out the ruckus in the front room.
Johnnie was now in his own chair.
“You can start hauling out the plates of food,” Bess said, nodding at the simple white plates sitting on a side table. They were filled with a hearty portion of bacon, scrambled eggs, flapjacks, and fried potatoes. “We don’t have enough plates for all the men, so they’ll have to take turns.”
“I saw Cole.” Sam didn’t look at Bess, but there was a warning in his voice. “I told you I didn’t want him coming back here, Bess.”
She paused as she put eggs on a plate—and then kept going. “I didn’t invite him.”
Paddy lifted his gaze and looked between Bess and Sam.
“I want him gone.” Sam cut his flapjacks and then stabbed a piece onto his fork. “If you don’t tell him to leave, I will.”
Bess kept working at the cookstove, and I was certain she wouldn’t respond, but then she said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Did Sam mean Cole Goodman? Was he aware of Bess’s relationship with the other man? Was something supposed to happen today that would push Sam over the edge?
Again, I didn’t want to be here when it all happened.
“Go on,” Bess said to me. “Start serving at the front of the room and work your way toward the back.”
I wasn’t sure which was the front and which was the back, but without another word, I grabbed as many plates as I could and hurried out of the kitchen.
“I’m hungry,” Hazel complained again as we trudged toward Portsmouth Square. The hills in San Francisco were steeper than I had first anticipated. It was exhausting to walk from one business to another looking for a job and a place to stay, but worse climbing the impossible hills under the hot sun.
“We’ll get something to eat soon,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how I would make good on that promise. We’d been trekking around San Francisco for hours after lunch and had no more prospects than when we started. After breakfast, I had helped Bess clear and clean dishes, sweep the dining room, and wash some of the bedding from upstairs. She had helped me care for Father and put him on one of the bunks so he’d be more comfortable. We had made and served lunch, and then I had taken Hazel to find another place to live.
But it was nearing suppertime, and we had been turned away from one hotel and restaurant after another. I had one more place to call on, but I had no hope we would find work.
“Can we go back?” Hazel asked, pulling on my hand. “My feet hurt, and I’m hot and thirsty and hungry.”
Her blond hair was a little darker than mine, and though I had tried to comb it and put it in braids, it was fine and silky and had slipped out of the bows. Her blue eyes looked up at me with such misery, I couldn’t help but feel pity.
“I’m sorry, Hazel. We can’t go back until we find somewhere else to live.”
“Why not? I like it at Bess’s Place. Johnnie is nice. He doesn’tyell or throw fits like other boys.” She tugged on my hand again. “Please, Ally. Let’s go home.”
Home. Had it been wise to take her away from New England to this godless country? I had thought things would be easier, but I hadn’t anticipated Father’s sickness or losing all our money on the way here.
It didn’t pay to climb the hill to Portsmouth Square when I knew the outcome of my inquiry at the California Hotel would be another denial. I’d been told to check there, but I doubted I’d find a position. Not with a child and sick father in tow.
Bess would need help with supper, and I couldn’t shirk my duties if I wanted to eat and sleep at her hotel for free. So, I did the only thing I could and scooped Hazel into my arms to head back down the hill toward Montgomery Street.
Hazel wrapped her arms around me, and with a squeal of happiness, she pressed her cheek next to mine. “When can I get a kitty?” she asked. “You said when we got to California I could get a kitty.”
I sighed. “As soon as we have somewhere to live.”
“But we live with Johnnie.”
“Only for a little while.”
Her bottom lip came out in disappointment, but she didn’t press her request. All she had talked about on the trip west was getting a cat. Just like everything else I’d hoped for or promised, it was still a long way off.
All I had wanted was to make it to California and get Father to the Yuba River in time to make some money and restore his fortunes. He’d been convinced by Ralph Waldo Emerson and other Transcendentalist friends that he should start a school in Concord for boys and girls. He and Bronson Alcott, Louisa May Alcott’s father, had tried to make a go of it, but both had lost almost everything in the process. The school was controversial, since they didn’t believe children should be taught out of books but through conversation instead.
