Rapture's Gold Read online

  The child’s apparent savior then stood there, staring after her persecutors for a moment, breathing heavily, watching to make sure they either swam away or drowned. Harmony could not see what happened, but neither of the men reappeared, and the man who had thrown them into the water did not seem to care. He turned, the rage in his brown eyes changing to gentle concern. Harmony watched carefully as he approached, her natural instincts telling her she need not fear this man. His hair was so red it intrigued her, and his eyes were full of a sparkling kindness. In spite of being shorter than the men he had attacked, he had exhibited a mighty fury in her defense, and she saw now that his arms and shoulders were husky and strong.

  “Don’t you go running off now,” he told her gently. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She clung to her doll and carpetbag, pressing her back against the wall of a warehouse as he came closer and knelt in front of her. “Who are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  She swallowed, wiping at more tears. “I’m waiting…for my parents,” she whimpered. “They’ll be here…any minute.”

  The man looked around, unable to see up and down the docks because of the misty darkness. He frowned and turned back to her.

  “Where did they go?”

  She could not stop her breathing from being quick and desperate. She must believe they were coming! “They…went to talk to a man…a captain of one of the steamships. We’re all going west…my mama and daddy…and me.”

  The man sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “How long ago did they leave you here?” he asked, sounding almost angry again.

  “I don’t know, mister. The sun was still out. We’d just ate lunch. They told me to sit here and wait…and they’d come back. They’ll be here pretty soon. I know they will!”

  She started to cry harder and he grasped her arms gently. “All right. All right. Don’t get excited, honey. Did those men hurt you?”

  When she sniffed and shook her head, he felt rage in his heart at seeing such a beautiful child abandoned in such a place. If the two men had carried her off…

  “What is your name? And your parents’ names?” he asked.

  Her little chest heaved in frightened gasps. “Harmony. My name is Harmony Jones. My daddy…is Patrick Jones, but everybody calls him Patty. My mother is Sadie Jones. Daddy plays the banjo…and they both sing and can dance. They…make people laugh. We travel all over, singing and dancing and making people laugh. Mama is very pretty, with gold hair, curly like mine. Daddy has brown hair and blue eyes…and he always wears a jacket with red and white stripes on it.” Her tears flowed harder again. “Something terrible happened to them! I know it did, or they wouldn’t have left me here alone!”

  The man sighed and patted her shoulder. “Sure. That’s probably the reason,” he told her, not believing it himself. Many people had been abandoned here by westward-bound dreamers, often children. “But you know you can’t stay here all night, don’t you, Harmony? More men might come along like the two I threw in the river. Why don’t you let me take you to a warm house, where a very nice young lady lives. She’ll give you something to eat and tuck you into bed so you’ll be safe from ruffians. In the morning, we’ll go to the police and report your missing parents. They can search for them, and we can check the passenger rosters of the steamers tomorrow to see if their names were on any of the lists. Wouldn’t that be better than staying here where it’s cold and dangerous?”

  She studied his kind brown eyes and warm smile. Did she have any choice but to trust this man? “I…guess so,” she replied. “But I don’t know your name.”

  He gave her a wink. “My name is Brian O’Toole, and I own a warehouse on these docks. I was working late, lucky for you. I was just on my way home when I heard you screaming.”

  “A warehouse?”

  “That’s right. I own a big supply store in town, and I keep a warehouse down here for storing things that are coming in or going out—mostly things coming in from factories farther east, and going out to places in the West where supplies are often hard to come by.”

  She hugged her doll closer. “Who is the lady?”

  “Where I am taking you?”

  She nodded, and he picked up her carpetbag.

  “Her name is Rebecca—Rebecca Peters—and she will soon be my bride. Becky’s only eighteen, but she’s a woman, for sure, and I love her. You will too. She’ll take you under her wing like a mother hen.”

  Harmony studied him intently. Although he was only thirty, to her child’s eyes he seemed much older. Her curiosity about this man who owned a big store and a warehouse, and about the girl called Rebecca, stirred enough interest in her to calm her a bit. She wiped at her eyes again and reached out trustingly to take the hand he held out to her. Her tiny hand was lost in his big palm as he slowly began to walk along with her.

  “That’s quite a name you have there,” he told her. “Harmony. It’s very different, and very pretty.”

  “Thank you, Mister O’Toole.”

  “You must call me Brian. How old are you, Harmony?”

  “I’m six years old. Mama and Daddy were going to start me in school soon. Is there a school here?”

  “Oh, yes. We have lots of schools.”

  As they walked along quietly, Harmony looked back, but she could no longer see the barrel where she’d been sitting. An aching loneliness crept through her, for she suddenly feared that she was never going to see her parents again. Her mind was filled with confusion and despair. This man was helping her, yet she didn’t even know him. What if the woman called Becky wasn’t really kind? What if this man had some evil fate in mind for her? She kept staring up at him as they walked, intrigued by his red hair and the abundance of freckles on his face and arms. Surely he didn’t mean to do her harm. He had risked his life to save her from the men who had attacked her. She wondered if he was one of the rich men her parents often talked about, a man who had everything. After all, he did own a big store and a warehouse, and he dressed nicely. Whatever he was, there was no doubt he was all she had at the moment, and with every passing second his valiant efforts in her defense became more magnified. She was quickly coming to the conclusion that perhaps he was the strongest man in the world.

  He led her away from the docks and up a dark, cobblestoned alley to a wide street that was well lit. There he hailed a passing carriage and gave the driver some instructions; then he got in, plopping Harmony on the seat across from him. He had not said anything or done anything that indicated he meant her harm, and the genuine concern in his eyes continued to reassure her that everything would be all right. She clung tightly to the rag doll and stared at him.

  “Sadie and Patty Jones, you say?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you know which ship they were to board?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are they young? Old? In between?”

  She blinked, breathing with more regularity now, feeling calmer. “In between, I guess,” she replied. “Mama always said she was too young when she had me.”

  He grinned and leaned back. “Yes. Well, I suppose to you even twenty would seem old. I’ll bet she’s no more than twenty-five, if that much. These drifting entertainers often get started young at everything in life.” He studied her closely, his eyes running over her pudgy little frame, her angelic face, and her spell-binding green eyes. What things had this child been through, seen, heard? How many places had she been? It would do no good to ask if her parents had been cruel to her, for children usually defended their parents, no matter how bad they were. “I’ll say one thing,” he added aloud. “If I had a charming little girl like you, I’d not let her out of my sight for even one second, especially not on the docks of St. Louis.”

  “But they didn’t mean to be gone so long,” Harmony said. “They were going to come right back. They told me so.”

  He sighed and nodded. How could he tell her what he thought really had happened? There was little doubt in his mind that she had been left delib
erately, and when he checked the steamship rosters the next day, he wagered he’d not find the names of Patrick and Sadie Jones on any of the lists. They wouldn’t register under their own names. They were most likely on their way west to make their fortune, and the little girl was a bother to them. No. He would not tell this poor little girl that her parents were not coming, for she believed they were—and for now she had to believe it. As time passed, she would come to understand what had really happened without his having to explain it.

  The carriage bounced over the streets, finally coming to a halt in front of a row of houses that all looked the same. The street was well lit and very neat, and all the houses had concrete steps leading up to double doors with frosted glass windows in the upper panels. Brian O’Toole climbed out and lifted Harmony down; then he paid the driver of the carriage and took Harmony’s hand, leading her up the steps. Inside, he knocked on a polished oak door, one of many in the hallway where they stood. After several minutes a young woman’s voice responded.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Becky,” Brian replied. “I know it’s late, but I have a little problem here.”

  Harmony could hear locks being unhooked, and then the door opened slightly and a very pretty young woman peered out at them. Her face lit up when she looked at Brian O’Toole; then it reddened slightly. “I’m in my robe, Brian.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I need your help. I found this little girl on the docks. Her parents have disappeared. Two men attacked her, and she’s got to have a place to stay tonight. I thought maybe you could—”

  Before he finished speaking the door was flung open, and the young lady took Harmony by the hand, leading her inside a cozy, nicely furnished apartment. Rebecca said, “How awful. You must be starving and cold, you poor thing.” Harmony liked the young woman right away, and before long her stomach was full of warm oatmeal and, dressed in the flannel gown from her own carpetbag, she was put to bed on a sofa, under several warm quilts. All the while the young woman called Becky repeatedly told Brian O’Toole that he must do everything he could to find the “sweet child’s” parents. She also fussed over Brian’s bleeding knuckles and carried on about how he was going to be killed someday, walking those “awful docks” among those “scurvy men.”

  Harmony quickly fell asleep due to the strain of the day, a suddenly full stomach, and the wonderful warmth of the quilts. Her last thoughts were that her parents would be found, perhaps tomorrow. And as she fell asleep she vaguely remembered whispered words between Brian and Becky, some kisses, and light laughter just before Becky insisted Brian O’Toole leave before her reputation was ruined and the landlady had words with her.

  “You will find her parents, won’t you?” Becky asked as Brian went out the door. His only reply was a sigh, and Harmony did not see him shake his head doubtfully.

  The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. The police found no trace of foul play, and no one named Sadie or Patty Jones had registered on any ship or wagon train. When Brian O’Toole married Rebecca Peters, the child moved with them to a large, fancy house, and she was enrolled in school. She was treated more like a little sister than a daughter by Becky, for Becky was young herself. But Brian was somewhat fatherly, and Harmony found herself beginning to think of him as a father. He was her friend, her protector, her provider. In her loneliness she looked to Brian O’Toole more and more for security and comfort, praying every night that she would always be able to stay with him.

  But the fact that someone had helped her and given her a home did little to ease the terror in Harmony’s little soul at the memory of that night on the docks. Slowly but surely she admitted to herself that her parents had left her there on purpose, and the awful emptiness she experienced at being abandoned was a feeling she wanted to forget but could not. Somehow she knew, even at her young age, that she would never forget that feeling, and already her mind was building its defenses, determining that she would never again feel that afraid or that helpless. She decided she would never again trust anyone who went away and promised to return. She knew that Brian O’Toole would never go away, for he was rich. He owned a supply store and a warehouse in a big city. He didn’t need to travel around like her parents. He had everything right here. And even if he did go away, he would not go alone. He would take his beloved Becky with him, and he would take Harmony—and his brother.

  Harmony did not like Brian’s brother, Jimmie, who at fifteen came to help Brian with the store shortly after Brian and Becky married. Jimmie was tall and gangly, also with red hair and brown eyes, but he was not nearly as good-looking as Brian. He was a spoiled boy, sent to St. Louis from New Orleans by Brian’s grandparents, who had raised the lad after Brian’s parents had died. The older couple had hoped that working in Brian’s business would give the boy some direction in life and help him settle down, for Jimmie had left school and did not last long at any work he tried. When he arrived at the O’Toole household, there were a few days of bedlam and arguing, during which Harmony kept a low profile, fearing that she would lose her happy home to Jimmie, whom she disliked right away. But it was not long before a stern Brian had the boy working long hours, so that Jimmie was almost never home, and when he was he soon fell into an exhausted sleep. Jimmie had been the only cloud in Harmony’s new life in the O’Toole home. But Brian had quickly blown that cloud away.

  Harmony spent her days helping Becky: cleaning, sewing, cooking, and doing everything she could to make herself worthy of being allowed to stay in that beautiful house with the people she was growing to love. Months turned into years, and Jimmie matured, although Harmony continued to dislike him. Poor Becky suffered three miscarriages, and her bright happiness began to fade, turning to self-pity and sorrow over not being able to give Brian O’Toole a child. Harmony’s own devastation at the realization that her parents had abandoned her was relegated to the recesses of her mind, deliberately buried there to avoid terrible hurt, and she turned her thoughts and heart to the people who had given her a home. She helped Becky as much as she could, for the young woman so often seemed ill, and she put up with constant teasing and derisive remarks from Jimmie whenever the young man was around, for he resented her presence, knowing Brian liked the abandoned girl better than he liked his blood brother. Jimmie called Harmony names whenever he could get away with doing so, and he constantly reminded her that she was living in a “borrowed” home and she’d better watch out or she’d be cast out into the street.

  Harmony didn’t believe his threats, yet they haunted her, dredging up old fears, making her work even harder to please Brian and Becky O’Toole. She was a bright girl, and Brian began taking her to the store with him, letting her help, much to Jimmie’s resentment. By the age of thirteen, Harmony was helping to keep the books, filling out orders, and becoming more of a help than Jimmie had ever been. Brian bragged about her nightly to Becky, boasting about the clever mind and business instincts Harmony possessed even at her young age. Jimmie would glower at her when he did that, but Harmony paid no attention. She was pleasing Brian O’Toole, and that was all that mattered. She owed the man everything, and she would do whatever she could to earn her keep, trusting that the man had grown to love her and certain in her own heart that she loved Brian like a father.

  Never had her own parents treated Harmony the way Brian and Becky treated her, and although she resented and now almost hated her parents for abandoning her, she realized that the life she’d ended up living with Brian and Becky O’Toole was much better than the kind of life she would have had with her wandering parents. Still, she could not forget what might have happened to her at the hands of the two men who had attacked her on the dock, or that she would have had her parents to thank for that. When she thought of that night of terror she could not help but hate Patrick and Sadie more and more as she got older. They had left a helpless child on the docks to meet whatever fate might befall her, not even caring; the innocent, trusting love Harmony had once felt for them had vanishe
d. The only thing that kept bitterness from overtaking her was the kindness she had found with the O’Tooles.

  From a blonde little girl Harmony grew into a young teen, her babyish looks melting into beauty which promised to increase when she became a woman. Golden hair hung in gentle waves nearly to her waist, and her green eyes were catlike and provocative. By the age of fourteen her firm young figure was rounding to enticing proportions, her waist was tiny, her breasts were blossoming, and her cheeks were a natural pink. But her heart and soul held the innocence of the six-year-old child found on the docks. She still did not know the intricacies of the relationship of a man and a woman, nor did she even care to know.

  She was simply Harmony Jones, adopted daughter of Brian O’Toole. There were no legal papers. The situation was merely understood, for although Brian often talked of putting something on paper, he never got around to it because of his busy schedule. Harmony didn’t care. She loved and trusted the man. He was her father, whether papers said so or not. They got along well, and she worked hard at the store, taking on more and more responsibility, as did Jimmie, who finally began to behave the way a mature young man should. He still was not nearly as business minded as Harmony was becoming, but proud that his younger brother was finally making something of himself, Brian made him a full partner.

  It was in her fourteenth year that other changes began to take place in Harmony’s life, for that was the year a new gold strike was made near a town called Cripple Creek, Colorado, in that faraway place called the West, the place to which her parents had fled so long ago. All over St. Louis there was talk of gold, and there was a surge of business at the supply store as thousands of men became wrapped up in the quest for gold, many of them coming to O’Toole’s to stock up for their westward ventures. Harmony watched with growing fear as these men boasted to Brian about the riches lying in wait out west, telling him that he ought to leave the store to the care of Jimmie and Harmony and seek his fortune in the gold hills of Colorado. Until that time Brian O’Toole had resisted such talk, for he had heard it many times in this city that was a springboard for west-bound travelers. But something was different now. There’d been a sadness about Brian O’Toole since Becky had had another miscarriage that past winter. Even Becky had changed. The pair suddenly seemed to have given up on life; they were drifting apart. Somehow the latest miscarriage, and the depression Becky had fallen into, had affected Brian, and he often said that it might be best if he went away for a while. Harmony tried to ignore such talk. Surely it resulted from his disappointment over not having any children of his own. Surely it was a temporary thing. Becky would recover soon and be her bright, happy self again. Maybe she would even be pregnant soon. But on a rainy spring night in 1893 Brian O’Toole called Harmony into his study, after first talking to Jimmie for over two hours.