The Last Honest Seamstress (14 page)

"You'll have to go back tomorrow. I'm afraid Elizabeth won't let you get by with less."

"Not if I'm needed at the Armory." As Sterling helped her up into the buggy seat, her attention was caught by a small girl. The tiny thing, who couldn't have been more than two, played in the shade of the tent next to her mother. She wore a smock stained with ashes and smoke, ripped at the hem. Her mother looked tired, defeated. Fayth's heart went out to them. They must have been left homeless, too. But they had nowhere to turn, save the tent that the Tacomans were erecting to house homeless women. Last night they hadn't even had that.
 

While there had been a flurry to erect shelter for the men, somehow the women had been forgotten. Fayth shuddered in the heat. At least she had only herself to provide for; what must it be like for that mother? A woman who must be close to Fayth's age? Sterling urged the horses on. The little girl disappeared from view.

Fayth stared straight ahead. Seattle was nothing more than a black and white photograph, she thought. Except for the taunting blue sky overhead, the city was colorless. Fayth squinted against the sun. "Not when I'm through," she whispered.

Con sat at his desk and watched Tetch leave his office. The poor son of a bitch was convincingly shaken. Con should have fired him, but he owed Tetch's father too great a debt. However, it didn't excuse Tetch's lack of responsibility, or lessen Con's losses. Con had put him in charge of the cash box. Stolen!

Con thumped back in his chair remembering their conversation.

"Stolen?" he'd asked.

"Evidently someone took it in the mayhem when we docked, sir. There were people everywhere; security was nonexistent," Tetch replied unevenly. "I've already notified the police."

Con's expression narrowed. "Lot of help they'll be. They're up to their asses in looters."

"Yes, sir."

"You scoured the hold?"

"Yes, sir. Not one coin left behind."

"No one saw anything?"

"No, sir."

"How much did we lose, best guess?" Con was so angry he could barely speak.

"May's receipts."

"A month's worth of receipts!"

"We never bank until the tenth."

The urge to physically punish Tetch for his stupidity was almost insuppressible. Why hadn't the fool secured the cash in the safe in Con's quarters rather than stowing the box in the hold?

"Keep me apprised of any news." Con dismissed him before he gave in to temptation and threw him out of the office bodily. Part of this was his own fault for trusting Tetch and his sticky fingers. But even Con couldn't imagine Tetch would boldly steal an entire month of receipts and expect to get away with it.

Con came back to the present. What was he going to do now?

Fayth walked into the dining room the next morning dressed in a deceptively simple, pink silk gown, so new the seams had barely cooled from the touch of the iron. Her hair was brushed up and back in a regal pompadour with soft wisps curling around her face. She carried a small twine wrapped package under her arm. Mrs. Beard, Elizabeth's housekeeper, did a double take when she saw her.

Miss Sheridan, you look a vision. Your gown, it's . . . wonderful."

"Thank you. I designed it years ago, but just finished it last night. Elizabeth's left for the Armory?"

"Half an hour ago. May I fix you some breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I'm in a hurry. I'm afraid I fell asleep early this morning. I hadn't meant to. I must be getting older. I used to stay up sewing all night and not feel the worse for wear the next day."

"It's the recent strain, Miss Sheridan. Go easy on yourself."

"Is Sterling here? I need to get to the relief tent."

"Mr. Kelley is upstairs. He should be down directly. Shall I let him know that you need a ride?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Beard. You're a gem."

By the time Fayth arrived at the tent, all the cots had been collected and tables installed in their places. Her heart raced as she scanned the eating masses until she found the little face she sought. She approached the toddler and her mother cautiously, with a friendly smile.
 

"I have something for your little girl. May I give it to her?" Fayth asked the mother.

"We don't accept charity." Though Fayth did not lift an eyebrow at her ridiculous statement, the mother blushed. "I mean, any further than we have to. I have to feed my child."

"I'm not condemning you. What hypocrisy that would be! I'm living off the charity of relatives right now myself."

The woman eyed her new dress suspiciously.

"I lost everything in the fire, the same as you, I suppose."

The woman didn't reply.
 

"I'm a seamstress."

"Huh, that I can see." The woman pulled her child to her.

Fayth ignored the insult. "I've made something for your little girl."

She leaned down close to the woman and the girl. "A friend of mine told me, just after the fire, as the city still smoldered, that Seattle would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I believe him. I believe we will. But in the meantime, it struck me, there's no color in this city. So I made a vow. I would create some. Wouldn't you like your daughter to be part of that, part of the revival?" She held the package out to the woman who took it cautiously.
 

Moments later the twine lay on the floor and the little girl was dressed in a bright yellow smock, preening before her mother. The women around them showered the girl with attention. Fayth pulled from her pocket a handful of colored fabric scraps looped with pins and began passing them out.

"Wear your badge with pride, ladies!" she shouted. "We shall start the revival here! Today!"

A cheer resounded.
 

"We will restore Seattle to a greatness beyond her former glory. When historians of the future look back on this time, they will say,
Seattle would certainly have died without the colorful spirit of its women!
"
 

The mood became optimistic. Fayth was surrounded by hands reaching for pins, so occupied she barely caught sight of the slight form of an adolescent boy studying her with intensity from the door of the men's tent. Billy? Her attention was momentarily diverted. When she looked back, he was gone. It must have been someone else.

Had it been folly to use the precious material for something so frivolous when she might have found a rich woman willing to pay to have a dress made? What if the vault of Jacob Finn's bank had melted and all her remaining assets were destroyed? If it had been folly at all, it was a kind of folly that could not be measured against dollars, only against hope.

Billy burst into the shipmaster's quarters, chest heaving and breathless. "I found her, Captain!"
 

Con finished the entry he was writing in the captain's log before looking up at Billy, even though his heart pounded with excitement. "You're sure?"

Billy gulped for air twice, nodding.
 

"Where is she?"
 

"The relief tent them Tacoma folks set up, just like you heard. I almost gave up, had to wait around all morning. She was late showing. Missed the breakfast rush."

"She's not staying there?" If she was living in that forsaken tent, he was going to swoop in and rescue her, against her will if necessary.

"No." Billy hedged, acting as if there was something he didn't want to say.

Damn. Whatever it is isn't going to make me happy.
 

"No?" Con hoped he could draw it out of Billy without having to command him to tell everything he knew. "You're sure?"

Billy shrugged. "She showed up in a fancy carriage driven by some stuffy looking dandy dudded up in banker's clothes. He helped her down like a gentleman, looking real possessive and protective of her."
 

Not her banker then
, Con thought.
 

Billy looked too pleased as he relayed the bit about the man. Then again, he would. Billy didn't like Fayth for the simple reason he felt Con deserved a better woman—specifically, the sea. Billy didn't see any reason a man needed more.

A gentleman? Con gripped the pen he was holding so tightly his knuckles turned white. He made a note to find out who the
gentleman
was. He hoped to hell whoever he was, he was a gentleman and not a scoundrel. Or worse, her new husband. She couldn't have gotten married in just two days, could she? "And?"
 

"She was all dressed up in a fancy new dress." He paused as if for dramatic effect.

Con waited.

"I could tell it was new. Everyone could. It was this light pink color. Fancy cut, looked society, like it come straight from New York. And her hair was all floofed up."

"Floofed?"

"You know, combed up big and fancy. I don't know what they call it. She walked into the main entrance and straight through the men's tent like a queen. Head high, kind of determined like." Billy shrugged, obviously warming to his role as informant. "You ought to see her now. Every eye in the tent followed her as she walked along. Got her share of catcalls, I tell you. And propositions, too. Dressed up like that she's kind of pretty."

That was some admission coming from Billy, who clearly was threatened by Con's attention to her.
 

"And how did she respond to all the attention?"

"Ignored it, like a lady should." Billy paused again. "'Course, maybe it was the gentleman she had on her mind."

"Is that all?"

"No. I stayed to see what she was up to, like you said."

"And?"
 

"She marched into the women's tent and gave a present to a little girl. Then she started making speeches to the women and handing out these bright ribbons, or something. She was talking about revival and Seattle. Something about phoenixes and bright colors."

Con allowed himself a sliver of hope. Fayth was becoming a phoenix, was she? At his suggestion? He opened his mouth to give Billy his next orders.
 

Billy anticipated him, cutting him off. "Damn, damn, damn! Why do I have to be out spying on girls when I should be here learning how to be a sailor?"

"Because your captain gave you an order."

Billy scanned the open logbook. "You're going back out onto the Sound to conduct another sightseeing trip, aren't you? And I'm going to be landlocked!"

"Yes."

"Hell, when you were my age you weren't stuck on land; you were out getting a reputation as the Con."

Con stood and put his arm around the boy. He wouldn't stand for insubordination from his men, but Billy was still in training. "Look, Bill, after I take this last group of Tacomans on a sightseeing tour, we'll get back to business as usual. I promise to stop neglecting your education."

Billy nodded. "You donating the money from this tour to the relief fund, too?"

The Captain nodded. "Wouldn't be right to profit from another's tragedy. We're called to help those in need."

"Seems like you had tragedy, too. Others are already starting to rebuild their wharves. Heard that Yesler's will be reopening shortly."

"Don't worry, Billy. I'll be going to see Finn about financing right after this last tour."
 

And I'll be taking care of Miss Sheridan, too,
he thought.
 

Con pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and pressed it into Billy's hand. "For a job well done. Now get out there and back to it."

Men don't realize a woman dresses as much for herself as she does for them.

Fayth struggled to make a perfect bow of the sash on her latest creation and prepared for her third day at the relief tent. She dressed to enhance her new, colorful image. Wearing the bright clothes made her feel alive and vibrant, and was already creating the stir she wanted. A beautiful dress made her feel confident. She needed confidence more today than ever. Yesterday, she had heard rumors that they had uncovered most of the bank vaults and some of the vaults of the larger stores in town. The militia had guarded them all night and was most likely eager to be relieved of that duty. The citizens were all anxiously awaiting their opening. For many, like Fayth, the money they placed in the bank was all they had left. If the banks went under and didn't honor their deposits . . .
 

Fayth didn't want to think about it. The vault at Jacob Finn's bank had to have held. When they opened it all her money would be there, along with everyone else's.
It just had to be.
 

Her thoughts whirled around the idea of getting her money. Once she was sure she had some capital left she would purchase or rent a tent. The city government had already passed an ordinance allowing businesses to erect temporary tents to conduct business until permanent buildings could be built. As soon as the militia pulled out, Seattle was set to be a regular tent city. She heard that the lines were already long to get the permit.