1863 Saratoga Summer Read online

  The smell wafting from another room further in the building, almost overpowered her. Unwashed flesh and human wastes, combined with unmoving air, made Sinead feel much like she had the day before, dizzy and faint.

  Turning to leave though, was not an option she could exercise. There was too much at stake. She wondered how the many policemen who milled about could stand to work in such an environment. Perhaps, it was the same for the men employed by those in charge, too much at stake to leave.

  A rotund policeman, jaw slack and eyes dull, came from one of the offices to the right and passed her in the hall then turned back. “Lady, can I help you with something?”

  “Aye, I’m wanting to see someone in charge. That is, if it’s alright to do so.”

  “What do you want here? I need to know so I can take you to someone who can really help you.” He stared at her with glazed eyes.

  Sinead repeated what she told the men outside. “A neighbor told me my husband was here. Picked up for fighting he was, or so I was told.”

  “Come with me. I’ll introduce you to my commander.” He stared at her with contemptuous appraisal and lifted an eyebrow. “What’s your name, lovely lassie?” He grinned at his own cleverness.

  Humiliation heated Sinead’s face. She was embarrassed by the man’s blatant looks and outraged by the disrespectful tone of voice.

  When she didn’t answer, the officer asked again. “I need to know your name, darlin’, otherwise I can’t introduce you or fetch your husband when I’m told to do so.”

  “Sinead O’Malley, sir. Me husband’s Connor. He was brought here along with his brother…” Sinead’s eyes filled with tears. She was about to lie about Connor and his brother, whom she hadn’t even met. “Please, be taking me to yer commander or someone who can be helping me get me stupid husband and his drunken brother home to the children and their mother, who’s in mourning and would like to die just for the sight of her two darling boyos.”

  “Come this way,” he snickered, leading her toward the office he’d just exited. He held the door open and let her precede him into the room.

  The grimy office was filled with too much furniture, chairs propped up against one wall, desk lined up in the center. Although there was a window opened, the room was stifling. Little air circulated through the dim light infusing it.

  Sitting behind a large, gouged oak desk, a light-haired man with a huge, thick mustache held the focused attention of four men who stood at attention before him. The man’s eyes were narrowed, and the look of anger on his face was enough to quell Sinead and stop her in her tracks.

  The man shouted at the men facing him. “And the next time ye do something stupid like that again or I get another complaint from the wrong people, ye’ll be gone from yer jobs. Now, get the hell out of here—and behave yerselves on the street. I have no more time for the likes of ye four.” He coughed into his hand. “But keep yer eyes open from here on in. There’s too much going on with the new law for us to relax our vigilance.”

  The four saluted him and turned on their heels to leave the room. They marched as if in a drill.

  “Wait, ye fools, ye can’t leave without yer badges to pin on.” Exasperation and resignation dotted the man’s face.

  The four turned as one and moved in cadence back to the man’s desk. Their hands reached out at the same time as if a single string attached them and they took their badges.

  “Jaysus, ye’re like a bunch of puppets,” the officer shrieked. When the men retreated, he shouted at them, “Och, get out of here.” He waved his arm to the door.

  This time, he looked up and noticed Sinead waiting quietly and timidly in the doorway. The expression on his face changed, grew softer, as if he were embarrassed to have sworn before a young woman. “Now what would a sweet thing like you be doing here in me office?”

  All the snappy answers she had ready caught in her throat. Her ideas fizzled to nothing. With a keen sense of disappointment, she merely stood and stared, unable to mouth any words, while the man ‘s dark blue eyes, hooded like a hawk’s, stared at her.

  “Well, now, lass, ye’ can speak to me without fretting. I’m here to help ye with yer troubles, I am. I’m William Ryan, Commissioner of this motley group of madcap officers.”

  Sinead’s lower lip quivered. She drew a trembling breath and tried to smile at him.

  He gently smiled at her. “Let me guess. Ye’re here to get yer drunken, brawling man out of jail. Right?”

  Sinead felt a sense of freedom, having him take the burden of worry off her shoulders. Murmuring a prayer, she sighed and said, “Aye. And his brother, too.”

  “Och, the big ones, the O’Malley brothers, I’m betting.” The policeman laughed. “I put them in a holding cell together. I knew they weren’t part of the rowdy bunch we brought in from Clancy’s Saloon. They seemed a bit dazed, not quite sure of where they should be going or what they should be doing.”

  “They’re not usually rowdy. Only when they’re together,” Sinead blurted then realizing what she’d said, clenched her fists against her worn skirt and bowed her head. Her lungs felt thick, and the humidity of the day was making her perspire.

  The commander stood and strolled from behind his desk. He approached her.

  Sinead stepped back, his square body and swagger inspiring fear.

  What do I know about policemen, other than they supposedly are vicious and corrupt?

  He extended his hand. “Do ye have papers, lass, saying the man is yers and that he belongs here in this city?”

  “Aye, that I do.” She pretended to dig through her reticule until she’d mashed and wrinkled her paper more than they already were then dragged them out. “Here. Connor and I are legally married. By the priest and everything. And he brought his brother here with him.”

  The commander looked the papers over. With a face full of distant pity, he asked, “Why would such a newly-married man bring his brother with him to celebrate?’

  The stiff hollow question made Sinead wince. She opened her mouth to answer but the man spoke before she could fasten her mind around a single thought.

  “Never mind. ‘Tis none of me business. Just wait here. Ye might not like what ye’re going to see.” With that, he stepped past her to the door, pulled it open slightly and hollered out, “Charlie, bring those two O’Malley boys here. Quickly, man.”

  The name O’Malley acted like a douse of cold water on her fried mind. Her tongue slid along a dry bottom lip from corner to corner, wetting it.

  The commander turned and remarked, “Yer man is being brought here. ‘Tis best I leave the two of ye to settle things together. He’s a sight. Don’t be fainting on me now either, lassie.”

  She nodded, heard the footsteps coming closer to the room and paused. She saw the commander leave and gesture someone in.

  Connor O’Malley, his face bruised and battered but expressionless, stood in the doorway and pinned her with an angry stare. The very sight of him cut off her oxygen.

  Chapter Seven

  Connor O’Malley’s huge body filled the doorframe of the Police Commander’s office. He stood, tall and stiff, arms braced on each side of the frame, glaring at her with an angry heat coming from the depth of the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. The look pierced her and one raised fist seemed ready to do the same.

  With flattened lips and a sneer, Connor snapped, “Well, ‘tis most kind of you to arrive. I’m assuming you intend to get Egan and me released from this hellhole your da led us to when he didn’t return to the steamer’s pier. And, for your added information, my brother was sick on the journey over here and this set him back. I do not thank you for it.”

  Sinead, who had watched his expected entrance from under downcast eyes, looked up and stepped back until the oak desk hit her backside. Burning up, and freezing at the same time, a defensive bile of rose into the closed throat. A breath caught in her mouth and made a dry, gulping sound.

  The skin around Connor’s eyes was purple, red, blue
and yellow, colors of the most beautiful rainbows seen in Ireland. A beige substance oozed from the closed eye. Dirt outlined the seams of his face and neck. His lips were cut in more than one place and bled slightly. His entire face was bruised, battered beyond recognition, in the foulest of cruelties, and his clothing was torn and tattered.

  Fetid air returned to her lungs in a slow wheeze. A loud gasp flew from between the mouth open to receive air, making the loss of emotional control palpable, as Connor’s swollen face came into clearer focus. She stared at him. Warmth, like a pillow, jammed against her face. Hands, buried within the pendulous pockets of the billowy, creased skirt, fisted. Her lips sagged with shame, yet any attempt to close them went undone. Tears welled up and spilled out of sad eyes.

  Connor stepped further into the room and let the door swing shut behind him. The reek of raw sewerage saturated the air, surrounding him. He arched an eyebrow, which must have caused pain, for he grimaced.

  Feeling as if she needed to do something, Sinead ran to the wall, grabbed a chair and dragged it across the floor to him. “Och, Lord, I’m thinking ye better sit before ye fall.”

  “I’ll not be sitting another minute in this place. I’ve had enough of its hospitality in the hours I’ve already spent here. Can’t we just leave?” he asked in silent disapproval.

  The stiff, hollow question made her wince with rejection. She covered a strong urge to pout, swallowed the protest over his behavior and wondered why the terse words bothered so much.

  Remembering what her da said about proper behavior inside, she shrieked, “It wasn’t my fault, you and that poor fellow were lying about in the roads, roaring up to the skies. It wasn’t my fault you and your brother got into a drunken brawl.”

  “Drunken brawl is it! Neither of us had a chance to take more than a bite of food or a good swallow of the lager before some of your friends started an argument with us, an argument they were looking for.”

  Sinead huffed an puffed and pulled herself up straight. “There are no friends of mine in that saloon, or any other, for that matter.”

  “Then they were friends of your da’s. Maybe that’s why they were so crazy to pound us into the floor of the establishment.”

  Her eyebrows lifted at his tone of voice, a tone that scraped across the very edge of thinning patience. “Neither my da or I had anything to do with your fighting.”

  “So you keep saying. Forget it, for now,” he said, glowering in a threatening way, bunching his fists and unconsciously aiming one at her. “I just want to leave here and take my brother to a place where he can regain his strength.” He glared with controlled dislike—hard, cold and immense.

  Sinead strove to remain cheerful. “I don’t know where to take you. I can’t take you to the house where I live. Not with all those bruises and your eyes blackened. The Dewitts will know you’ve been fighting in saloons.” She turned away from him and shook her head, her eyes downcast. “I don’t know what they’ll think of me for marrying a man such as you.”

  “Now, isn’t that just too bad what you think you know. Or what they think. Those attitudes sounds perverse, like they…”

  She wheeled back to face him. “Aye, it would do immeasurable harm to Robbie’s future. I would not have them know anything bad about you,” she whispered, her body hunched and beginning to tremble with fear then anger erupted. “I don’t suppose you’ve even given a single thought to the happy and excited child, who’s waiting in the carriage to see his new da.”

  Hands fisted, Sinead stomped back and forth in front of the desk, fully understanding the foolishness, which had caught her in its net. A refusal to go along with her da’s scheme would have been the thing to do.

  “Take Egan and me to your da’s home, or if you’re that embarrassed, take us to a hotel,” he hollered. “You don’t seem to have a choice.” He pointed to the door in a wide, expansive gesture. “We must go somewhere, preferably as far away from you and this situation as we can get.” He pounded his closed fist into an open hand for emphasis.

  Sinead swayed then squirmed. A trickle of sweat made its way from her armpits across her chest. The underclothes stuck in sticky folds. She put a hand over her mouth as her breakfast slid upwards in her throat. She struggled to regain control.

  She stopped pacing, coughed once. With hands folded in solemn piety and utmost patience, she looked up and tried to explain the situation to this ill mannered oaf who was her husband. “You don’t understand. I have no house. I live at the Dewitts. That’s where I take care of Robbie. And my da lives in a small room at a boarding house.”

  “Then take Egan and me to your da’s, where we can get a room, or a hotel,” Connor said with finality, as he stepped closer.

  “There are no vacant rooms. They’re all taken and they’re not in the best part of town.”

  “I don’t care about that. Take me to a hotel if you have no other place. I have to tend to Egan’s and my wounds.”

  “Och, for heaven’s sake.” Sinead stamped one foot. “That would not be right and proper. You’ll need care.” She tilted her head and asked in a voice huskier than usual, “Does your brother look as bad as you do?”

  She ogled him, trying to look calm and expressionless but hanging on every word in an attempt to come up with a solution to their dilemma. How did this fiasco get to be their problem? The very idea made her furious, but another thought hammered away in her brain.

  Robbie would see him. Connor might scare a small boy under ordinary times, just with the size of him, but he was doubly scary now. What tale might the child carry home? What might the child say to his Dewitt grandparents?

  Her hand was gripped, none too gently, in a hot, immovable grasp. She needed to keep her wits about her and keep her feet on the ground.

  “Well, are you going to answer me? Connor demanded to know. “If not, just get Egan and me released. We’ll find our own way around town.”

  Suddenly, she remembered her da’s advice about screaming to amuse the police. Perhaps, it might distract Connor. Sinead raised her voice in a way she never had. “Find yer own way about town, is it? Aye, like ye and yer foolish brother did last night?” Fascinated, Sinead watched his anger surfacing in slow waves.

  His voice was low, threatening. “All you had to do, lass, was send your da back for us. ‘Twas wrong of you to keep him at your side.”

  The lower his voice went, the higher hers rose. “I didn’t, ye know. Me da dropped me off and let others help me into the house.” She brought one boot to the floor in an angry stamp. “I was heat struck, too weak to do anything except escaping to me bed. Me da left immediately.” She scowled up at Connor. “How was I to know anything? I thought he went right back to get ye. I only learned later he was delayed.”

  “Delayed, is it? A likely story,” he shouted.

  Fury swept through her with the swiftness of a summer storm, hot, steady fury that sustained and protected her from further wounds. “And a true one,” she screamed, surprised at her vehemence. “If ye don’t believe me then take it up with me da,” she added in a loud, shrill voice, wanting to lacerate him further with the scythe of her tongue.

  “I will at that.” Connor’s face turned ashen. A jaw muscle twitched, and his mouth set in a firm line. He reached for her elbow then swung her around toward the door. “Now, dear, sweet wife, let’s get out of here.”

  His grasp pinched. Someone pounded on the door and pushed at it. Discordant notes from their fight hung in the air.

  “Come in,” both Connor and Sinead called out as one.

  A haggard Egan poked his head in. “Connor, if the two of ye are through with yer fussing, could yer lovely wife come out here to sign some papers?” He took a deep breath. “I have to get out of here. I’m getting sicker by the minute, just from the fumes of the place.”

  “Aye, Egan. We’re coming, lad.”

  Without letting go of Sinead’s arm, Connor went to the door. He made an elaborate gesture of holding it open for Sinead. He yan
ked her close. “And that, dear wife, was the brother you maligned. Did you see how poorly he’s feeling?” he asked, shaking her arm, none too lightly.

  Sinead tore her arm from his grasp and stalked passed him. She marched out of the room into the narrow hallway and almost fell over from the cloying smells, which had gotten worse. Connor and Egan followed her.

  Connor caught up to her. This time, he took the elbow with less force. “You don’t want to be walking about in this place without some protection, lass.”

  “Missus, you’ll be having to sign papers at the tiny desk. There, at the far end,” Egan said, pointing down the hall and smiling politely. He nodded. “And hello. I’m Egan, the misfit’s youngest brother. Glad to be finally meeting up with ye.”

  Seems that one of these brothers was softer and more humorous, she thought, raising her eyebrows a bit. At least, Egan showed humor and a bit of manners. Most men made advances like bulls, awkward and rough.

  Sinead wiggled her arm away from Connor and stormed the length of the hall. The closer she got to the desk where she needed to sign the release papers, the closer she came to the bars of the holding cells and the more she wanted to gag. Men reached out between the bars. They made coarse remarks.

  The smells of urine, stale whiskey and vomit were overbearing. They floated toward her like the rapids of a rushing stream. She almost turned away but looking up at scowling Connor who walked beside her, she noticed the men grew quieter as he passed their cells.

  The policeman behind the small desk called out. “Those men can’t leave here until you sign these papers, lady. I have them ready for you. All you have to do is put your signature to them. If you can.” He chuckled to himself then shouted, “If you don’t know how to do that, ma’am, make an ‘x’ where you see the red mark.”

  Holding her breath against the odors surrounding them, Sinead moved to the desk, bent and signed her name with a flourish on two sheets. One had Egan’s name at the top, the other Connor’s. Once they were signed, she turned swiftly and bumped into Connor.