Rescuing the Heiress (11 page)

Michael was just bidding his mother a fond farewell when Annie burst into the kitchen. Her hair was still ratted and her face streaked with dirt and tears. To his chagrin she was behaving irrationally, hurrying around the room and throwing food into a basket without bothering to even wrap it in a napkin.

He was about to tell her that he already had all the supplies he needed when she suddenly froze, covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

“There, there,” Mary said soothingly, taking the young woman in her arms and patting her back. “You'll be all right. Sit down while I make you a nice cup of tea.”

“No!” Annie pushed her away. “I have to go back to my mama's. I have to help her.”

“Oh, darlin',” Mary crooned. “You can't be goin' down there all alone again. It's too dangerous.”

Sniffling, the maid swiped at her tears and shook her head. “I'm not going alone. Tess is going with me. I have to get the buggy ready.” She broke away and dashed toward the back door, brushing past Michael as if he were invisible.

Watching through the open door, Michael saw her race toward the carriage house. His heart sank. Until a moment ago, he had thought the situation couldn't possibly get any worse. Now, he knew better.

Giving his mother a peck on the cheek, he turned to leave.

“Are ye goin' back to work?” Mary asked.

“In a manner of speaking. The first thing I need to do is stop Tess.”

Mary snorted. “Oh? And how do ye propose to do that?”

“I'll reason with her. Tell her how bad it is down below. She'll have to listen.”

“Will she now? I'd like to see that.”

“What else can I do? It's bedlam out there.”

“I don't know. But giving that hardheaded girl orders isn't the way to go about it. You'd have a better chance of standin' on the tracks in front of a steam engine and expecting to hold back the train with your bare hands.”

That opinion was so accurate it made Michael smile. He nodded. “I'll think of something.”

 

By the time Tess reached the stables and joined Annie, there was a horse hitched to a buggy all right, but it wasn't her faithful mare.

She stopped, hands fisted on her hips, and stared at Michael. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Helping you get back to Annie's mother's safely,” he replied, standing tall and showing no sign of being cowed by her display of righteous indignation.

“I'm taking my own horse,” Tess insisted. “Unhitch your animal immediately.”

Michael was slowly shaking his head as he held the gray gelding's bridle and led it a few paces, then fiddled with the length of the trace chains before he looked back
at her. “No,” he said flatly. “This horse is used to noise and strange smells. He's far less likely to bolt.”

“My mare is fine.”

“Here, she may be. And even that's not certain. Drive her by the worst of the damage and she's bound to smell death or fire and start to act up.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” In the back of Tess's mind she could see Michael's point but a rebellious tendency kept her from admitting as much. She stood her ground. “Well? I'm waiting. Remove your horse this instant.”

“If I do—and I don't promise I will—how long do you think it will take you and Annie to get your mare into harness in his place? Do you have that much time to waste? Or should you stop arguing and get in the buggy so we can all be on our way?”

Tess felt Annie grab her arm and hold so tight it pained her.

“Please,” the maid pleaded, “let's just go. You can argue with Michael all you want after we find my mama.”

Although it went against her personal preference, Tess had to agree. “All right. Get in. I'm driving.”

Instead of offering his hand and assisting her to climb into the buggy as he had in the past, Michael leaped into the driver's seat and took up the lines.

Tess pulled herself up and tried to shove him aside with no success. “Move over, sir.”

“I think not,” he said, giving her one of those grins that always used to curl her toes.

In this case, however, Tess seemed immune to his
Irish charms. Disgusted, she plunked down on the seat next to him while Annie climbed into the back to ride amid their provisions.

Tess kept her arms crossed and her spine rigid until they pulled out onto the road and started down the hill. She had to give up and grab hold when the buggy began to zigzag around piles of fallen masonry and bump over ridges of buckled cobblestones.

Thankful that Michael was driving, she watched him expertly squeeze the rig through newly narrowed passages and past hazard after hazard as they traversed the normally broad, open streets.

What she beheld was horrendous beyond words. Horses lay on their sides, unmoving though still in harness. Buggies and wagons were smashed. Whole city blocks of row houses had been reduced to matchsticks or were leaning so precariously they looked as if the slightest push would send them tumbling down one after the other.

Then, as Tess observed more and more of the damage and heard survivors keening over the bodies of the dead and dying, she wilted. Tears blurred her vision. Awe and fear filled her heart.

One hand gripped the side of the seat, her knuckles white from the sheer force of her grasp.

When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was tremulous. “Oh, dear God,” she said prayerfully, “help these poor people.”

Beside her, she sensed the intensity emanating from Michael. It wasn't only the muscle power he was
employing to handle the nervous horse amid such chaos, it was far more. His entire persona was as tight as a drum, his large, capable hands fisting the reins as if they were about to be snatched from him by a malevolence beyond imagining.

Tess could finally understand what he had been trying to tell her back at the house. This devastation was beyond human comprehension. Looking at what was left of the once-familiar streets and neighborhoods, Tess wondered how anyone, anywhere, could have survived.

M
ichael would have done almost anything to keep Tess and her maid from having to view all this carnage but since they had insisted on coming, he figured it was best if he stayed with them as long as possible.

He had originally thought that the screaming during and immediately after the quake had been the worst part. Now that he was back in the thick of it, however, he realized that the murmuring, moaning and pockets of eerie silence could be just as bad.

Some men, women and children roamed the littered streets as if in a daze, barely cognizant of their surroundings while others were already lugging trunks and other belongings down the streets toward the railway station, the docks or the ferry terminals.

“You should have turned back there,” Tess said, pointing. “Mrs. Dugan lives on Geary Street.”

“We can't get through that way,” Michael replied. “I tried earlier. Whole teams and wagons are buried under deep piles of rubble. The drivers are probably trapped beneath tons of bricks, too.”

“Oh, my.”

“That's not all,” Michael went on. “Look over there. See all those loose wires hanging down?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because they may be very dangerous, depending on whether they're electric, telegraph or telephone lines.” He cast her a sober glance, meaning it to serve as a warning. Instead, she grasped his arm and held tight.

“Then you will be in terrible danger. How will all the rescuers manage?”

“I don't know. Let's take one crisis at a time,” Michael said. It was his fervent hope that they'd quickly locate Annie's mother so he could be on his way again. He wasn't ready to think further ahead than that. The prospects were too demoralizing.

He carefully maneuvered the buggy through the rubble as far as possible, then stopped and climbed down. “Come with me. We'll go the rest of the way on foot.”

“But what about Father's rig? If I abandon it he'll be furious.”

“Suit yourself.” Michael was already starting to unhitch his horse. “If I were him, I'd be more concerned about my family. Where was he this morning, anyway? I didn't notice him when I was at the house.”

“Your mother said he took some of the servants and went to check his bank. He takes that responsibility very seriously.”

“Ah, so that's why he wasn't underfoot giving orders. I wondered why we didn't hear him bellowing when you decided to make this trek.”

“He would have understood. He might even have come along to help us.”

Although Michael strongly doubted that Gerald Bell Clark was that altruistic he chose to keep his opinion to himself. So far Tess seemed to be going along with his sensible suggestions pretty amiably and the last thing he wanted to do was antagonize her.

Continuing to unhitch while his passengers retrieved cargo, Michael quickly led the horse out from between the shafts and tied up the long driving reins so they wouldn't foul or drag. He fastened a few bundles of their meager supplies to the horse's harness as Tess handed them to him.

“Are you sure Father's rig will be all right here?” she asked, hefting one of the picnic baskets Mary had prepared for them and leaning to one side for balance as she carried it.

Michael almost laughed at her naïveté. “Look around you. Do you think something like that really matters?”

“No,” she said, sighing poignantly. “I suppose it doesn't.” She looked to Annie. “I can't quite tell where we are. Is your mother's house close by?”

“Yes. Follow me,” Annie said, taking the lead by stepping over more rubble in the street and wending her way west.

Finally, she paused and pointed. “There it is. See? The gray house with the porch that's fallen into the street.”

Foreboding gripped Michael. Could anyone have lived through the crashing force of that building's collapse?
Sure, Annie had survived—and so had most of the other firemen who'd been asleep in the station house with him this morning, so he figured anything was possible. It just wasn't very likely.

“Where were you when it happened?” Tess asked Annie.

“Sleeping. Mama made me a pallet in the parlor.”

That was apparently the portion of the home that was partially propped up on broken, misplaced rafters, Michael noted. The rear section, however, lay nearly flat on the ground.

He led the horse as close as he could, then hitched it to a lamppost, hoping it wouldn't run off if more tremors occurred.

Tess and Annie were already approaching the tumble-down house. Michael caught up to them.

“I was right there,” Annie said, pointing with a trembling finger. “See? There's the corner of the gray blanket I was sleeping on.”

“Where was your mother's room?” he asked.

Annie stared, wide-eyed. “Over there. Under the part of the roof that's on the ground.”

“All right. We'll move as much loose lumber as we can and see if we can tell anything. If we still can't, we'll hitch the horse to the main rafters to pull them off. There's no other way we can possibly budge anything that big ourselves.”

“But what if Mrs. Dugan is trapped under there?”

Tess asked, grabbing his arm and halting him. “We can't
move too much until we're sure we won't be hurting her.”

It was an effort for him to ignore Tess's touch even though the sleeve of his shirt lay between them. “One decision at a time,” Michael said, pulling away. “You two start over there nearer the street. I'll take this section because of the heavier timbers.”

To his relief, both women hiked their long skirts to their boot tops and waded into the debris without further questioning of his authority.

When he heard Tess say, “Come on, Annie. I'll pass the pieces to you and you can toss them into the street,” he wondered if she knew why he had assigned the tasks the way he had. Perhaps. He wanted to be the one to clear this section because he was relatively certain that Annie's mother lay beneath it. He couldn't protect the poor girl from the loss of a loved one but he could at least soften the initial blow by not letting Annie be the one to uncover the remains.

Tess was giving him a telling, sidelong glance and she nodded slightly when he looked over at her. She
did
know. And she, too, was trying to protect Annie. In spite of the dire circumstances, that conclusion warmed Michael's heart and made him proud. Not everyone who preached equality practiced it. Tess did both.

 

Tess's long, loose tresses were not only getting caught on the refuse as she labored, the hair that lay draped over her neck and shoulders was making her beastly hot. She drew the back of her wrist across her forehead to sweep
away perspiration, hoping her face wasn't half as gritty as it felt.

Straightening to stretch her aching back, she sniffed something odd on the air. There was the usual scent of the ocean, as well as odors from countless other unpleasant sources, but this was different. This was far worse.

She glanced at Annie and saw that the girl was also wide-eyed with concern. What about Michael?

“Hey!” Tess shouted over at him. “Do you smell smoke?”

He whirled. “Yes. Get out of here.”

Instead, Tess hurried to his side by stepping on what was left of the porch roof. “No. Let us help you.”

“You can't do anything. Look.” He pointed to puffs of smoke starting to rise from what was left of a nearby building. “It's liable to be too late in a few minutes. That fire's close and the wind's blowing this way.”

Annie covered her face with her apron and began to sob hysterically while Tess tore at the remaining broken boards that still covered the area where Rose Dugan had lain.

“Go get my horse and back him in here,” Michael shouted, grabbing Tess's shoulders and giving her a turn and a push to start her in the right direction. “We can't delay any longer.”

“What if Annie's mother is alive under there?”

“Then we'll get her out, God willing. We can't leave her to burn to death.”

“Where's the fire department? Why don't they come?”

“The stations that weren't destroyed have to be fighting
as many fires as they can handle already,” Michael said, gritting his teeth and grabbing another armload of splintered wood. “Hurry up with that horse.”

Tess couldn't fault the overwhelmed and undersupplied professional firemen who were risking their lives to try to save what was left of the city. She simply hoped and prayed that her meager efforts would be sufficient to help rescue the tiny sliver of suffering humanity that was currently relying upon the three of them.

“Dear God,” she murmured, directing her plea heavenward as she tugged on the bridle of the stalwart fire horse and urged it to enter the field of splintered boards, “Show us where to look? Where to pull? Please?”

No booming, divine voice echoed from the sky but Tess nevertheless felt a sudden sense of peace and surety.

She turned the animal, gathered the harness traces and passed them to Michael, then watched as he fastened the ends around the nearest heavy beam.

The makeshift rig was ready in seconds. It was now or never.

Michael signaled and shouted, “Pull!”

Tess gritted her teeth, hiked a handful of skirt, grasped the horse's reins just below the bit and pulled as she shouted, “Git up! Go!”

The big gray leaned into the task, his muscles bunching, the leading edges of his wide front hooves digging in.

At first, nothing budged. Then she felt the load he was hauling give way and shift. He edged forward.

Afraid to look back, almost afraid to breathe, Tess continued to lead him slowly away, step by cautious step.

When she heard Michael shout, “Stop! I see her!” with such evident passion and exuberance, she whirled and stared. “Is she…?”

“She's alive,” he yelled. “She's moving!”

Overcome, Tess leaned against the horse's neck and began to silently thank God.

 

Annie helped her mother crawl out from under her bed and Michael swung Rose into his arms so she wouldn't have to try to walk through the rubble.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The older woman was both weeping and grinning as she clung to her daughter's hand. “Fine, fine.” She cast a fond look at Annie. “I knew you'd find me.”

“Tess helped,” Annie said. “And Michael. I couldn't have done it without them.”

“Then thank you. All of you,” Rose said, half sobbing.

Michael was pleased to see that the older woman seemed to be in good condition, especially considering the fact that she'd had half a house sitting on her for several hours.

Tess was apparently just as surprised as he was because she quickly joined them to share a hug with Annie and ask, “What happened? How did she survive?”

Michael answered, “The old, solid oak bed she slept in supported the rafters enough that they didn't bear
down on her. She's scratched and bruised but otherwise every bit as well as she claims to be.”

“Prayers were answered,” Tess said.

“Amen to that.” They had reached the horse and he paused with his burden while Tess took its bridle to lead. “We'll hitch up the wagon again. I want you all to go to a refugee center and get checked out,” Michael said, concentrating on Tess. “Mrs. Dugan needs to see a doctor and you may have injured your hands when you were digging.”

“I agree about the doctor for Rose,” Tess said. “But Annie and I are fine.” Her brow knit. “I don't suppose she'll want to leave her mother, though. I can understand that. If my own were still alive I'd want to be with her.”

“Good. Then it's settled. I'll carry Mrs. Dugan back to the buggy so she can ride while you lead the horse to keep him calm. Can you manage that?”

“Yes, but I should be getting home,” Tess said.

To Michael's ears she didn't sound nearly as convinced as she usually did when she made a declaration like that. “Why? Your father may not come back for days. Not if he's as worried about the money in his bank as you think he is. Besides, my mother knows where you went and why. If Mr. Clark asks, she can assure him that you're fine.”

“Am I fine?” Tess asked softly.

It concerned him to hear less and less strength in her speech, to see the sparkle leave her beautiful green eyes.
Clearly, she was exhausted yet unwilling to admit how weary she was.

“You will be,” Michael told her. He was relieved to note that the Clarks' buggy was right where they'd abandoned it. The only things missing were a few household items from the back that they hadn't taken with them.

He placed Rose Dugan gently on the seat and assisted Annie aboard so she could sit close to her mother and steady her. Tess had already backed the horse between the shafts and was starting to hitch it to the tugs and breeching straps when he finished getting the others settled.

“Here, let me do that,” Michael said, rushing to her aid. “You're tired.”

“I may be tired but I'm not helpless,” Tess insisted.

He might have backed off then, if he hadn't seen her trembling and sensed how close she was to losing control of her emotions.

Instead, he took those dainty hands in his and gently held them still. “I will never think that of you. This ordeal has been a terrible strain on everyone. If you won't rest for your own sake, do it for Annie and Rose. You need to be strong to look after them.”

“I'll manage.”

“I know you will.” He turned slightly so Tess could see past him. “Look at their house. Even if Rose isn't badly injured she may be too upset to function. They'll need someone who is both intelligent and levelheaded. They'll need you.”

He smiled, wishing their circumstances were different
so he could take Tess in his arms and comfort her the way Annie and Rose were comforting each other.

To Michael's delight, a wan smile began to lift the corners of Tess's mouth. She nodded. “I do understand. You're saying that this is only the beginning of our trials, aren't you?”