Home Before Sundown Page 25

  “Good boy, Thomas. Can you watch him a little longer? I want to see how Charlie is.”

  The little boy tightened his grip on the wood and gave a determined nod. “I watch.”

  George went to the bed. The linens were shabby and musty-smelling, and he shook his head in disgust. “Charlie. Pequeña.”

  “Georgie?”

  “Yes. How are you feeling?”

  “Awful.” There were tears in her voice. “My back hurts.”

  “I’m going to take a look, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “George, what should I do?” Noelle asked.

  “Do you know where your carpetbags are?”

  “No. That…Grandfather told the servants to put them in the lumber room, whatever that is.”

  “Okay, we don’t have time to waste looking for them. Take the pillow case off Charlie’s pillow and use that.”

  While Noelle did that, George carefully raised Charlie’s nightie and bit back a shocked groan. He wanted to take the belt to the man who had done this. Her poor little back. He poured some tepid water from a pitcher into a bowl, wet a cloth, and dabbed gently at the welts and cuts. Charlie didn’t make a sound.

  “You’re doing well, pequeña.”

  “I’ve got the case off the pillow,” Noelle said.

  “Good girl. Go down to your room and make sure no one sees you.”

  “They won’t. Grandfather won’t let them come to this part of the house after we’ve gone to bed. I…I never knew why, but I think now it’s because he didn’t want anyone to know he beat Charlie.”

  George clenched his hands into fists and drew in deep breaths, otherwise he’d take the firewood from Thomas and use it to kill the old bastard. “Pack what you need. Don’t forget anything you’ll miss, because we’re not coming back.”

  “Can we take Socks with us?”

  “All right.” The old bastard probably intended to have him sent to prison for theft anyway for taking the cash money from his son’s billfold, so taking the pony wasn’t much of a stretch. And while George was at it, he planned to see what St. Claire had in his pockets. “Do you have a riding habit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Change into that.”

  “Okay, Georgie.” She ran to the door and slipped out carefully.

  “Charlie, how are you doing?”

  “I-I’m all right.”

  “Sure you are, pequeña. I don’t have any liniment here, but as soon as I get some, I’ll put it on your back and you’ll feel much better. Thomas, how are you doing?”

  “I good. Can I hit him over the head? Noelle got to hit him a whole lot of times.”

  “Not now. If he starts moving, then you can.”

  “Good. Georgie?”

  “Yes, Thomas?”

  “I not Little Thomas no more?”

  “No, I reckon you’re not.”

  He puffed up his little chest. “I make you proud of me.”

  “I already am.”

  The door opened, and Noelle slipped back in. She was wearing a miniature version of a lady’s riding habit, had her coat over one arm, and dragged the stuffed pillow case behind her.

  “I brought my pillowcase too.” She held it up.

  “Good work, Noelle. Can you help Charlie get dressed and then get her things together?”

  “Yes, George.” Noelle ran to a chest of drawers and took out some clothes for Charlie to wear.

  “That’s my girl.” He helped Charlie get her nightie off, and then he cut it into strips. Once that was done, he stomped on the old man’s hand. The authorities would be brought in, and George would rather suspicion fell on him. When the hand was nothing but a shattered mess, George hogtied him, went through his pockets, and found a billfold that contained even more money than his son’s.

  Thomas sat cross-legged on the floor, sucking his thumb, watching him with interest.

  “Can you show me your room, Thomas? We’ll get you packed up, and then we’ll get out of this place.”

  “Okay, Georgie.” Thomas took his hand and led George to the tiny room.

  George gritted his teeth. The room was under the eaves and was barely large enough for a cot and a small chest of drawers.

  Thomas toddled to the cot, pulled his stuffed lamb over the side, and clutched it to him. George smiled at him, although he was growing anxious. They needed to get out of this house as quickly as possible.

  George pulled out the few clothes that were in the drawers, dressed Thomas, then scooped him up and hurried them back to Charlie’s room.

  Chapter 39

  George drew the bay horses to a stop in front of the tenement on East 21st Street and glanced over his shoulder. It had been a rough evening for the little ones, and they were fast asleep in the carriage. He hopped down, ran into the building, and tapped on Bart’s door.

  A man who seemed vaguely familiar opened the door. Oh, no. Had the Halls moved out?

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. I was looking for the family that lived here.”

  “George?”

  “Yes? Do I know you?”

  “You probably don’t remember me. Sam Pickett. I worked on your grandpa’s rancho.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember.” Although he actually didn’t.

  “Who is it, Sam?” Mrs. Hall appeared at Sam Pickett’s shoulder.

  “It’s George Pettigrew, Josie.”

  “Mrs. Hall, is Bart here?”

  Bart came down the hallway, yawning and rubbing his hair, but when he saw George, his face lit up. “Georgie?”

  George tried to make himself relax, but Bart knew him too well.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve got Noelle, Charlie, and Thomas out in the carriage. That bastard was beating Charlie with his belt. I won’t leave them with him.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Keep them here until I return the carriage? We’ve got to get out of town. I beat the daylights out of both Lewis St. Claire and his father.”

  “Did you now?” That seemed to amuse Sam Pickett.

  “The children can stay here until you get back.” Mrs. Hall exchanged glances with Sam Pickett. “Sam and Bart will help carry them in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bart and Sam Pickett followed George back out to the street. Bart took Noelle and Sam took Thomas. George eased Charlie up, being careful of her back.

  “Mr. Pickett, could you get the pillow cases? We couldn’t take the time to find their carpetbags.”

  “Got ‘em.”

  They entered the building and hurried down the corridor and into the apartment.

  “What are you going to do with the horse?”

  “What horse?”

  “The one you have tied to the back of the carriage.”

  “She’s not a horse, she’s a pony, and she’s coming with us.”

  “Leave her in the backyard for the time being.” Sam Pickett put Thomas down on a pallet in the front room.

  “Would you mind…?”

  “Not at all. I’ll take care of that now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Bart asked after Sam Pickett left the room.

  “Yes. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

  “George, I’m gonna get Frank.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. His father knows Lewis St. Claire. He might get word back to him what I plan to do.”

  Bart turned white. “You don’t trust Frank anymore?”

  George gripped his arm. “These are my sisters and brother. I won’t risk them.”

  “Frank just got back from Washington. Whatever his father may’ve done, Frank wasn’t involved.”

  “All right, but if he even hints that he’s telling his father, I’m taking the kids and leaving, and you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

  “George!”

  “I’m serious, Bart.”

  He looked sick but nodded without hesitation. “Okay.”
<
br />   “Okay. Bart—”

  “I know, Georgie. I understand. Get going. We’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

  * * * *

  George rubbed down the bays, made sure they had hay and water, then put away the carriage before he went to the crowded space behind the tack room that had been his home for almost a year. He gathered up his belongings as well as the toys the children hadn’t been permitted to take with them, and headed back to East 21st Street.

  When he got there, Bart and Frank were sitting in the front room, cradling Noelle and Thomas. Charlie lay on her stomach to spare her back, but they were all awake.

  They jumped up, and the three of them engulfed him in hugs.

  “We thought you were never coming back!” Charlie said in a watery voice.

  “I’ll always come back for you.” He leaned down and scooped her into his arms, once again being careful of her back.

  “Mrs. Hall put something on my back. It feels better.”

  “I’m glad, pequeña. See what I brought you?” He’d found the presents in the carriage, and he gave Charlie a little red-haired dolly dressed in riding clothes. “And this is for you, Noelle.” Her doll wore an elegant gown with layers of lace and a bustle. “I didn’t forget you, Thomas.” George handed him a wooden box that contained toy soldiers.

  “Thank you!” they all cried.

  Bart stepped close to George and swept him up in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “These past months have been awful.” George leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “It’s felt like forever since I kissed you.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it has been.”

  “George.” Frank rose from the sofa and offered his hand. “Bart told me what happened. I’m sorry. I’m sure Father didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Frank.” George took his hand. “I suppose, but the offer of cash money in the collection plate would be hard to turn down.”

  “No matter how well off a parish is, it’s always welcome. Not to say Father sold you out.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Just the same, I promise I won’t say a word to him.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  George sank down onto the sofa and pulled the children onto his lap.

  Just then, Sam Pickett strode into the room. “You’re gonna have to leave town.”

  “Excuse me?” George had planned that, but he didn’t understand why Sam Pickett felt the same way.

  “I went to the house in Gramercy and did a little snooping around.”

  “And?” George kept his tone cool.

  “All hell is breaking loose there. The groom returned and found Lewis St. Claire out cold in the stable and trussed like a Christmas goose. He woke the household, and they discovered Julius St. Claire badly battered.” Sam Pickett gazed at Noelle. “It seems you pack a pretty hefty wallop, little lady.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George said. How could he know Noelle was the one who had hit Julius St. Claire? “That was my doing.”

  Noelle slipped her hand into George’s and gripped it tight. “I told Frank, Georgie, and Mr. Pickett must have overheard,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She stared back at Sam Pickett, defiance in her eyes. “George taught us how to protect ourselves. I wasn’t going to let that bad man hurt my sister any worse than he already had.”

  “How long has that been going on, Charlie?” George knew it had to have been within the past two months when he was unable to see them. They would have told him otherwise.

  “It started right after Thomas’s birthday. I don’t know why he was so angry with me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Noelle cried.

  “He said if I did he’d beat you too.”

  “I should have done more than break his hand.” George turned to Sam Pickett. “Are you going to turn us in?”

  “Now, why would I do that? Bart is Josie’s favorite son, and you’re Bart’s favorite person. Not likely I’d do some fool thing like that—Josie would boot me out on my a—” He glanced at the kids. “—rear.”

  “You’d better believe I would.” Mrs. Hall came in with a tray holding glasses of milk for the little ones and cups of coffee for everyone else.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hall. And thank you too, Mr. Pickett. But as far as anyone is concerned, I’m the one who knocked Julius St. Claire unconscious. If anyone asks, that’s my story, and I won’t change a word of it.”

  Sam Pickett nodded. “You can’t stay in the city.”

  “I know. That’s why I plan to get us out of here. And I’m not telling you where, just to keep you all safe.”

  “Okay.”

  “George, I’m going with you.” Bart crouched before him and rested a hand on his knee.

  “But your family?”

  “Ma’s got someone.” He glanced up from Mrs. Hall to Sam Pickett. “It’s safe for me to leave them.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going too.” Frank had a determined look on his face.

  This felt like old times, with the three musketeers together once again.

  “What will you tell your parents?”

  “That I’ve got a job offer out in California. Lawyers will be needed out there. I’ll figure some way to get mail to them.”

  George nodded. “On the walk back from Park Avenue, I did a lot of thinking, and I’ve come up with a plan. Just hear me out before you go telling me how cockeyed it is.”

  “I thought I was the one who always came up with the cockeyed plans,” Bart teased.

  “Then I reckon it’s my turn.” George squeezed Bart’s knee and began to reveal what he had in mind.

  * * * *

  There were fewer objections than he’d expected when he told them whoever the authorities sent after him would be looking for a man and three children, but they weren’t likely to be looking for a girl and three boys. He planned to disguise Noelle and Charlie as boys and himself as a woman.

  Sam Pickett tugged on his lower lip. “You can stay here while you wait for the clothes, but I think it might be a better idea if you hide out in my office until you’re ready to get out of town. No one will come looking for you there—even the police won’t go there unless they’re in pairs.”

  “Is it safe enough for my sisters?”

  “Yeah. The gangs may go after everyone else, but they look out for the women and girls who live there.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Bart assured George.

  “But who’ll stay with the children while I go to Mr. Feinstein’s?” The pawnbroker also dealt in secondhand clothes. Occasionally, servants would come to him to pawn the clothes their employers had condescended to give them.

  “You will, because I’m going to Broome Street.” Bart rubbed George’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “Let me do this for you.”

  “But—”

  “Mr. Feinstein will remember me from when I went there with you.”

  “And I’ll go with him. He’ll need help carrying all the clothes.” Frank had a wry grin on his face. “You’re going to make a pretty woman, George. I reckon Bart will have to marry you.”

  “What?” George felt his jaw drop.

  “Sure. If a pretty woman doesn’t have a man to protect her, she’ll be fair game for any man with half an eye.” It was obvious Frank thought he’d get George’s goat by saying something like that, but he hadn’t been there when St. Claire had attempted to attack George, hadn’t heard his words.

  “That’s a good idea, Frank,” George said blandly, and now it was Frank’s turn to have his jaw drop.

  It dropped even more when Bart went down on one knee, took George’s hand in his, and said, “Miss Pettigrew, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  George pressed a hand to his heart and fluttered his lashes. “Why, Mr. Hall, I would be delighted.”

  Frank burst into laughter and shook his head. “You two…”

  * * * *

  Before Bart and Frank
left for the pawnshop, George took Bart aside. “Captain Marriott mentioned he’d be taking wagon trains out from either St. Joe or Independence, Missouri. I need you to send him telegrams, asking him where he wants to meet us.”

  Bart’s eyes lit up. “We’re going west? To your valley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Georgie, I was serious when I asked you to marry me.”

  “And I was serious when I said yes.”

  “Good. Once you’re dressed like a woman, we’ll find a preacher and get married.” Bart glanced around, and when he saw they were alone, he swept George into his arms and kissed him. “Just practicing.”

  George caressed his cheek. “Hurry up. We’ll be waiting at Mr. Pickett’s office.”

  Chapter 40

  Bart reckoned that since George had handled various types of wagons, carts, and carriages, it made perfect sense that he’d take the reins of the wagon he chose. Originally they’d planned to use a Conestoga wagon, but a single look had George shaking his head.

  “It’s more than a thousand miles to the Dakota Territory,” he said. “It will be too heavy to make the journey.

  So instead, they’d bought a good-sized farm wagon that had canvas to cover the top. George found a team of six mules to pull it, and a couple of horses for Bart and Frank. Noelle—now going by the name of Chris—would ride her pony, and Charlie and Thomas would be in the wagon with George, along with La Gata and a kitten from her last litter.

  Bart would have liked to ride with his wife—they were on their honeymoon, after all—but he’d have the opportunity to share a bedroll with George.

  They’d received a wire from Captain Marriott while they were in Lancaster. Captain Marriott had returned from California and suggested they meet up with him in St. Joe.

  “Reckon it might be a better idea if we waited for him here?” Bart asked. “Going there first, and then north to the Dakota Territory…that’s gonna add more than five hundred miles to our trip.”

  “I know, but…I think it’s a good idea if we head for St. Joe. I’ll tell you the truth, Bart. I’m getting nervous sitting around in Lancaster.”

  He studied George’s eyes and could see how it was bothering him. “You’re afraid someone from back home might spill the beans?”