Maybe the miners hadn’t been exaggerating after all.
When the women began to make their way down a roped-off path, he half held his breath, wondering if anyone would be brave enough to propose like Pioneer had when the Tynemouth women came ashore.
From what Abe had heard, the young miner had singled out a pretty lass from the group, stepped right up to her, and offered two thousand pounds if she agreed to marry him. Sophia had hesitated only a moment before saying yes. And less than a week later, Abe had performed the wedding ceremony.
Of course, Abe hadn’t approved of the hasty arrangements. He’d had a long talk with Pioneer the morning of the wedding, encouraging him to consider postponing until he had the chance to get to know Sophia. But Pioneer had insisted she was the one.
The last Abe had heard of Pioneer and Sophia, they were living in Johnson’s Creek, where Pioneer had his profitable claim. As far as Abe knew, the couple was getting along well enough, but he wouldn’t know for certain until the spring thaw when he began his circuit riding.
“Get on down to the wharf and pick out a bride.” Pete’s teasing from earlier resounded in Abe’s head and kicked him in the gut with the same longing as before. Though he needed to continue on his way to Christ Church Cathedral and his meeting with Bishop Hills, he couldn’t make his feet move and instead studied the bride-ship women.
They wore the plain skirts and cloaks of the poor working class. In fact, their garments were unkempt, making the women appear almost shabby. In addition, the women were pale and thin from their months at sea. Even so, their faces held an innocence and appeal that made them different from the prostitutes who lived in Victoria and the mining towns.
An interaction near the end of the wharf drew Abe’s attention. Someone had stopped one of the brides. From his hilltop position, Abe glimpsed a pretty face with especially fetching eyes. As she smiled at the man talking with her, dimples made a quick appearance in her cheeks.
When the man reached out and tugged off her headscarf, her long dark hair fell forward and framed her face, making her even more beautiful. She batted his hand, and her expression turned feisty. Her reaction must have made her more appealing to the man ogling her, because he yanked off her cloak, giving full view of her womanly figure.
Her dark brows furrowed and formed storm clouds as she jerked her cloak back around herself. She said something to the man, but over the distance and commotion, Abe couldn’t make out the words.
The man tipped his head back and laughed, clearly pleased with the woman’s spunk. As the man exchanged a grin with one of his companions, Abe recognized the swarthy young face—Dexter Dawson. Or Dex as he was known up in the mining towns.
Dex and his men caused trouble wherever they went, carousing, brawling, and stirring up dissension. They never stayed in one spot long enough to strike it rich, but somehow they always seemed to have plenty of gold. Abe couldn’t be certain, but he guessed Dex and his men stole from caravans loaded with gold that were heading out of the mountains back down to New Westminster and Victoria.
With a surge of alarm, Abe watched the pretty woman stride away. Dexter Dawson surely wasn’t thinking about marrying one of the bride-ship women, was he? Dex was handsome and charming and popular among saloon women. But he had no business interfering with these newly arrived brides. They certainly hadn’t come halfway around the world to get tangled up with the likes of him.
Abe lifted his broad shoulders and pressed his lips together. Maybe he needed to seek out the chaperones or speak to one of the members of the welcoming committee and warn them about Dex so that they could encourage the new arrivals to stay away from him.
With so many other God-fearing and upright fellows in the colony looking for wives, the women would have plenty of suitable options. He just prayed they would take their time and choose wisely.
three
Zoe blinked back a wave of dizziness. Her headache wasn’t completely gone, and the jarring of the carriage ride over to the hospital hadn’t helped, but at least the blinding pain had diminished. She’d been able to keep down toast and tea at breakfast, the first meal she’d eaten since setting foot in Victoria two days ago.
“Maybe I shouldn’t leave you here by yourself,” Mrs. Moresby said as the weight of the stairs creaked under her hefty frame. “I don’t think you’re entirely well yet.”
“I’ll be just fine, ma’am.” Zoe paused and gripped the rail. “You needn’t fret about me.”
Mrs. Moresby from the welcoming committee had been a godsend from the moment the brides had arrived at the Marine Barracks. The matron had informed them that the large house would be their living quarters until they found employment or a husband—whichever came first.
She’d also shown them around, provided additional clothing, and patiently answered all their questions. She’d even been there when the ache in Zoe’s temple had finally become so unbearable that she’d collapsed from the pain. Mrs. Moresby had been the one to accompany Zoe to her room, help her don a clean nightgown, and tuck her into bed.
The kind matron had tended her throughout the day yesterday, bringing her tea and warm compresses. When Mrs. Moresby arrived this morning, Zoe forced herself to get up and act normal, desperate to go to the hospital and discover how Jane was doing. No one else had visited the patients, and Mrs. Moresby hadn’t needed much persuading to allow Zoe to go. She’d even arranged to deliver Zoe in her own carriage.
“Maybe while you’re here, we’ll have one of the doctors take a look at you.” She was a giant of a woman with her wide shoulders, thick arms, and broad girth. Her hooped skirts brushed against the narrow stairwell, and the tall, colorful feathers on her hat dusted the low ceiling.
“The headaches just come and go, ma’am,” Zoe said, as she had already a dozen times. “My mum, bless her soul, tried everything she could to ease the pressure, but nothing worked except the passing of time.”
“Yes, but we have such good doctors here in Victoria. They might be able to discover what ails you and find a treatment.”
“I’m more concerned about my friend, ma’am.” Zoe had only needed to step one foot inside the hospital for dread to pound out its ugly rhythm. The dark, damp entryway had greeted her with the stench of death. The silence, the chill in the air, and even the somberness of an attendant on duty had only made Zoe all the more anxious to find Jane and Dora and haul them back to the Marine Barracks. Surely she could coax Mrs. Moresby to take her side. Maybe, with a little charm, she could even convince the woman to arrange the transportation.
At the second floor, she followed Mrs. Moresby down the hallway. They stopped in front of the closed door the attendant had indicated belonged to the quarantined women. In the room across the hallway, a man rested in a bed with a bloodied bandage around his head. At the sound of their footsteps, he opened his eyes and took them in.
“Why, hello there, beautiful,” he said with a weak smile.
“Hello yourself.” Mrs. Moresby paused with her hand on the doorknob and glared down her prominent nose at the man.
“I meant the compliment to the young lady.” He averted his gaze. “But you’re a fine-looking lady too, that you are.”
Mrs. Moresby glared at the man a moment longer before she swung open the door and bustled away in a flurry of swishing skirts and rustling feathers.