Tuesday evening, December 28, 1880
“I can’t believe how much I missed by going up to the ranch early,” Laura Dawson exclaimed. “But it was nice to be with Mother and Father for the few days before Christmas to help with all the preparations, including decorating the tree. Father even let me put up tinsel. And little Frankie was so excited by the whole idea of Santa and presents.”
Kathleen always marveled at the family resemblance between Laura Dawson and her oldest brother Nate, despite the ten years in age between them. Both were tall and slender, with a sort of grace to how they moved. Her mistress said they both favored their mother’s looks and that Mr. Nate claimed his mother inherited her coloring from some ancestor with Shawnee blood. She guessed that might explain their high cheekbones and dark complexions. Thank the heavens, Miss Laura didn’t have her brother’s nose, which her mistress said made him look like a fierce bird of prey. No, Miss Laura had a perfectly ordinary nose and the sweetest smile. And a kind of enthusiasm that at times made her seem even younger than her twenty-one years.
Kathleen was glad that Miss Laura had decided to continue to live in the boarding house this fall, despite the hour-long trip across the bay to Berkeley where she’d started attending the University. When her classes were over, she came back to the city and worked nearly six hours at her job as a typesetter. That’s why she usually ate leftovers in the kitchen when she got back to the boarding house.
Kathleen handed her a cup of tea and placed a thick ham sandwich in front of her, knowing the young woman was always ravenous when she got home.
“Oh, thank you so much. Mother packed me a lunch to eat on the train, knowing I was going straight to my job from the station, but that was a long, long time ago. My forewoman, Iris, said she was glad I was able to make it back to work today, because a lot of last-minute orders to print invitations came in yesterday. Evidently the huge rain storm on Christmas Eve caused a slew of canceled parties that have now been rescheduled for New Year’s Eve.”
Mrs. O’Rourke, who was busy punching down the dough for the morning rolls, said, “Were your family pleased by our Annie’s good news?”
“Oh they certainly were, although my other brother, Billy, teased Nate unmercifully. But that’s just his way. Billy’s wife, Violet, wasn’t as excited as I expected, given all her previous platitudes about what a woman’s proper role in life should be. Maybe she was feeling out of sorts because of her pregnancy. She’s only in her seventh month, but she’s huge. Do you think it’s possible she might be carrying twins?”
“Well, our Annie did say that Mr. Nate’s brother wants a large family, so if that proves to be true, he’ll be happy,” Mrs. O’Rourke replied.
Laura laughed and said, “Billy will be insufferable if that’s the case!” In a more serious tone, she said, “Mother told me she’s worried that Violet isn’t taking good enough care of herself. First becoming pregnant again, so soon after the birth of little Frankie, then the whole bother over her brother and then her mother’s shenanigans. Must say, I’ve begun to feel sorry for Violet. Can you imagine if she does have twins? Then she’d have three children under the age of three.”
Ever since Kathleen learned that Mrs. O’Rourke wasn’t able to have children, she felt uncomfortable when the subject of babies came up around her. Consequently, she decided to shift the conversation to a different topic. She said, “I was glad that the mistress and your brother decided to stay at the ranch for a few more days. They needed the break after everything that happened this past month. But I was looking forward to getting some advice from them.”
Laura sat up and said, “What about? Anything I can do to help?”
“Well, miss, you see, I’m concerned that something bad might be happening to one of our neighbors, Mrs. Ashburton, the woman who lives two blocks away on Eddy.”
Kathleen went on to tell her about the arrival of Mrs. Ashburton’s son Rafe and how he’d thrown her friend Mary Margaret out of the house Sunday night. She added that Mary Margaret was convinced that the son wasn’t taking good enough care of her former mistress.
“My goodness gracious,” Laura said when Kathleen finished. “And where is this Mary Margaret now?”
“She’s back in my room, asleep. Mrs. O’Rourke said she could stay, at least until Mr. and Mrs. Dawson return. She’s been a big help this week with all the cleaning Mrs. O’Rourke wants done. You don’t think your brother and mistress will mind, do you? I was hoping that Mrs. Dawson might be able to write her a reference if Mary Margaret can’t get one from Mrs. Ashburton.”
“Of course Annie and Nate won’t mind. And I am sure they will be glad to help out. She doesn’t have any family in town?”
“No, she came to America from Ireland when she was thirteen. She traveled west with some distant cousin, who got her the job with Mrs. Ashburton and promptly disappeared. That was ten years ago.”
“Well, she’s got a good friend in you. Maybe the son will figure out soon enough he needs some help with his mother. If not, I’m sure Mary Margaret will be able to find a new position. But you seemed to think Mrs. Ashburton herself was in danger. What did you mean?”
“Well, Miss Laura, I don’t know that she’s exactly in danger,” Kathleen said. “Mary Margaret says her mistress…her former mistress…isn’t all that healthy. She suffers terribly from pain in her lower back and legs and has a very delicate digestive system. My friend is worried that the son isn’t taking care of her. Particularly after what we learned from Davey, the butcher’s delivery boy.”
“The butcher boy?”
“Yes, Davey is a bit of a gossip, and when he saw that Mary Margaret was here this afternoon, he asked her if Mrs. Ashburton was away, maybe visiting family.”
“Why did he think that?”
“He said that when he stopped by to deliver the usual order yesterday, a strange man answered the door. Said he didn’t want the chicken, but to bring him some prime steaks and an order of pork chops instead. Also asked which grocery nearby delivered.”
Laura frowned and said, “I don’t see why this has your friend upset. It stands to reason a full-grown man might want different food than a frail old lady.”
“When Mrs. O’Rourke said the same thing, Mary Margaret told me it would be one thing if he had added to the usual order. But the only meat that Mrs. Ashburton can stomach is chicken or beef broth. She says there was only enough chicken left in the house to make it through until today. So what she wanted to know is what’s Mrs. Ashburton going to eat for the rest of the week?”