Ferry. Have you seen a tall, blond man?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. The foreigner? He went over to the Depot Hotel. Said
something about wanting to use their 'phone."
"Yes, that's he. Thank you," Alice said, guiltily. How long had he waited before
he decided to call her?
She walked slowly back to her truck, feeling the heat radiating from the black
paint. The still air smelled of dust, eucalyptus, and sun-warmed wooden buildings.
Cicadas clicked randomly. Alice took off her linen driving coat and folded it neatly
on the driver's seat. She reached up to touch her wide-brimmed straw hat, making
certain that it was pinned firmly in place. Then she took a deep breath and started
across the quiet street.
As she drew close, Alice heard a commotion, and she recognized the sounds
instantly. There was a fight going on in the saloon.
She stood outside the saloon, dithering. A respectable woman would never be
caught dead in this sort of establishment at any time, much less in the midst of a
brawl! But Siegfried was in there, and it was her fault because she was late.
In the next moment she heard Siegfried's protest: "I am Alsatian!" A pained
grunt accompanied a crash against the door, which flew open toward her
violently.
----
Chapter Three
Sonoma
Saturday, May 17
The door slammed into Alice, knocking her down to the sidewalk. Before she
could feel anything except disbelief, a man dressed in shabby field hand's clothes
sprawled next to her, a barstool flying loose from his hand to bounce into the
street. She locked startled gazes with him.
"Mrs. Roye?" he croaked.
Her disbelief vanished in horrified embarrassment. She knew this man! He had
been part of the crew who put in her new vines. Abruptly she realized that her
knees were exposed, and her bottom hurt. Abruptly, she shoved down her pleated
skirt. Her right arm awoke from numbness and began to throb with a dull pain.
Siegfried appeared in the doorway, a large reddened patch marring his cheek.
He gave her a quick assessing glance, then stared, astonished, as he recognized
her. "Ah-lees! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, hastily. How dare Siegfried make a spectacle of himself--
and me! As she tried to get back on her feet, Siegfried stepped toward her, hand
extended to help.
The workman next to her scuttled to his feet and interposed himself. "Don't
worry, Mrs. Roye," he declared, shoulders hunched menacingly. "I'll protect you
from that Hun."
"My wife needs no protection from you!" Siegfried growled.
"She ain't your wife," sneered the workman. "She's Corporal Bill Roye's
widow." He brought up his fisted hands, and held them waveringly at chest-level
like a woozy prizefighter.
"That's enough," said the man in the carpenter's apron as he stepped out of
the hotel, rolled-up sleeves revealing massive biceps. "You watch your manners
around the lady, George."
George took exception to the familiarity. "You stay out of this, Behrens." But
his fists lowered, and he took a step backwards.
Alice climbed shakily to her feet, disdaining Siegfried's outstretched hand. She
tried frantically to think of the proper response to being caught like this. Should she
flee, faint, or brazen it out? Damn Siegfried anyway for putting her in this
predicament! What sort of ruffian had Tati foisted on her?
"We dod't deed his kide aroud here." A second man, from his clothing
evidently George's companion, staggered out of the saloon. Fresh blood stained
the handkerchief he held against his nose. Alice groaned inwardly. More witnesses
to her humiliation!
"We don't need your kind around here!" Behrens interjected. "You'd better take
yourselves off before someone calls Sheriff Albertson!"
"But what about Mrs. Roye?" George protested, standing protectively near
her.
"She is no longer Mrs. Roye. She is my wife now," Siegfried pronounced.
George and Joe looked to Alice for confirmation, disappointment and dismay
clear on their battered features, waiting for her to speak. "It's true--Mr.
"Oh, yes, ma'am. The foreigner? He went over to the Depot Hotel. Said
something about wanting to use their 'phone."
"Yes, that's he. Thank you," Alice said, guiltily. How long had he waited before
he decided to call her?
She walked slowly back to her truck, feeling the heat radiating from the black
paint. The still air smelled of dust, eucalyptus, and sun-warmed wooden buildings.
Cicadas clicked randomly. Alice took off her linen driving coat and folded it neatly
on the driver's seat. She reached up to touch her wide-brimmed straw hat, making
certain that it was pinned firmly in place. Then she took a deep breath and started
across the quiet street.
As she drew close, Alice heard a commotion, and she recognized the sounds
instantly. There was a fight going on in the saloon.
She stood outside the saloon, dithering. A respectable woman would never be
caught dead in this sort of establishment at any time, much less in the midst of a
brawl! But Siegfried was in there, and it was her fault because she was late.
In the next moment she heard Siegfried's protest: "I am Alsatian!" A pained
grunt accompanied a crash against the door, which flew open toward her
violently.
----
Chapter Three
Sonoma
Saturday, May 17
The door slammed into Alice, knocking her down to the sidewalk. Before she
could feel anything except disbelief, a man dressed in shabby field hand's clothes
sprawled next to her, a barstool flying loose from his hand to bounce into the
street. She locked startled gazes with him.
"Mrs. Roye?" he croaked.
Her disbelief vanished in horrified embarrassment. She knew this man! He had
been part of the crew who put in her new vines. Abruptly she realized that her
knees were exposed, and her bottom hurt. Abruptly, she shoved down her pleated
skirt. Her right arm awoke from numbness and began to throb with a dull pain.
Siegfried appeared in the doorway, a large reddened patch marring his cheek.
He gave her a quick assessing glance, then stared, astonished, as he recognized
her. "Ah-lees! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, hastily. How dare Siegfried make a spectacle of himself--
and me! As she tried to get back on her feet, Siegfried stepped toward her, hand
extended to help.
The workman next to her scuttled to his feet and interposed himself. "Don't
worry, Mrs. Roye," he declared, shoulders hunched menacingly. "I'll protect you
from that Hun."
"My wife needs no protection from you!" Siegfried growled.
"She ain't your wife," sneered the workman. "She's Corporal Bill Roye's
widow." He brought up his fisted hands, and held them waveringly at chest-level
like a woozy prizefighter.
"That's enough," said the man in the carpenter's apron as he stepped out of
the hotel, rolled-up sleeves revealing massive biceps. "You watch your manners
around the lady, George."
George took exception to the familiarity. "You stay out of this, Behrens." But
his fists lowered, and he took a step backwards.
Alice climbed shakily to her feet, disdaining Siegfried's outstretched hand. She
tried frantically to think of the proper response to being caught like this. Should she
flee, faint, or brazen it out? Damn Siegfried anyway for putting her in this
predicament! What sort of ruffian had Tati foisted on her?
"We dod't deed his kide aroud here." A second man, from his clothing
evidently George's companion, staggered out of the saloon. Fresh blood stained
the handkerchief he held against his nose. Alice groaned inwardly. More witnesses
to her humiliation!
"We don't need your kind around here!" Behrens interjected. "You'd better take
yourselves off before someone calls Sheriff Albertson!"
"But what about Mrs. Roye?" George protested, standing protectively near
her.
"She is no longer Mrs. Roye. She is my wife now," Siegfried pronounced.
George and Joe looked to Alice for confirmation, disappointment and dismay
clear on their battered features, waiting for her to speak. "It's true--Mr.
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