Free Josiah's Treasure by Nancy Herriman Page A

Sarah to know about Phoebe right away.” Minnie turned to Sarah. Lottie was her partner, but it would be Sarah’s decision if they took on another girl. How they could afford to, given Daniel, she had no idea.
    “Phoebe, that’s her name,” Minnie continued, sensing Sarah’s uncertainty and sounding a tad frantic. “Pretty, isn’t it? Says she’s French. She’s a dress and cloak-maker alongside my sister. My sister says her needlework is first-rate, and she has embroidered designs of her own creation on some of their customers’ collars. Best yet, she’s good at talking with folks and pretty. She might make a smart shopgirl. But her ma died not long ago and she has huge debts to pay because of the doctor bills, and she’s thinking of working the streets in the Barbary.”
    Sarah’s fingers must have pinched Rufus’s skin, because the cat mewled a protest.
    “Not there,” Lottie whispered.
    Sarah tried to catch her breath. She could not let anyone make a choice to work the alleyways of the Barbary. Daniel Cady and the threat he posed would have to be set aside. Because there was another girl for them to help. Another homeless cat with a broken tail.
    “Will you help her?” Minnie asked. “Emma’s already said she can take her in.”
    Lottie nodded. Sarah handed Rufus to her. “Tell Emma to get ready for her, Minnie. We’ll meet her at her boardinghouse in an hour. With Phoebe.”

    “I expect, if the documents are as described, we should have no problem presenting your case, Mr. Cady. They will make a very solid set of evidence as to your identity in addition to this telegram from your father.” Mr. Sinclair darted a hasty smile, white teeth flashing beneath his ample mustache as he ran a trimmed fingernail across the crease in the telegram and returned it to Daniel. He had the round face and belly of a man who indulged his tastes and eyes that glittered with conceit. A heavy dosing of his citrusy Farina cologne permeated the closed room, causing Daniel to question Sinclair’s ability to smell. At the lawyer’s back, a tall window framed a scene of the turreted bank building across the street, a pompous view of a pompous property. Appropriate for a pompous man. “My review of the will revealed the omission of your name and that of your sisters—Mr. Josiah Cady was very thorough in his claim that you were deceased—so I will be so bold as to say the judge shall declare you the proper beneficiaries of the estate. Without demonstrated intent to leave no bequest, probate rules in favor of children.”
    “I’m happy to hear it.” Daniel tucked the telegram into his inner coat pocket and reclined into the curved arms of the office chair. He didn’t have to like the view or the lawyer. He merely had to pay the man for his services and be done with him. “How much do you think my sisters and I will receive?”
    “Once all the properties are sold and all taxes and fees are settled, I would say around twenty thousand total.”
    “That’s all?” Much less than the thirty thousand his father had bragged he was worth. Leave it to Josiah to exaggerate his value. Or to do an exceptional job of hiding his riches.
    “Twenty thousand is no small change, Mr. Cady.” Sinclair tucked a thumb into his silk waistcoat pocket. “Enough to fund your business venture and build that house you were telling me about, with money to spare. There might have been more, if the mining claim your father staked in Grass Valley hadn’t turned out to be a bust.”
    A failed investment. Josiah had been a fool to the end. “Is it possible my father could have placed some of his proceeds in a secret account somewhere? Or bought property we don’t know about?”
    The lawyer shrugged, his heavy gold watch chain winking with the movement. “If he did, he probably took that information to his grave. Unless he let Miss Whittier know its whereabouts. Your father seems to have been awfully fond of her. I always find it peculiar