1863 Saratoga Summer Read online

  Lorie smiled at her. “Actually, men seem to prefer the red or yellow colors. You must be a star. Are you going to work here?” Not waiting for an answer, she shrugged, with a delicate movement barely lifting her thin shoulders.

  Sinead replied quickly to the blunt question. “Oh, nae. I have a situation in New York City, taking care of several people in a grand house.”

  “Well, there must be money in that then,” Essie responded, with a quick nod, looking at the others with secret understanding.

  “Not really,” Sinead quipped. “I’m afraid the money left to my son is managed by his grandparents.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid they’re not too generous, but I really don’t mind. He’ll have the money when he’s grown.”

  “Hey there, I’m Helene,” barked the oldest-looking woman, who had been quiet. She sat in an ungainly position, with her legs stretched out in front, her ankles crossed, her bright lime-colored robe dangling on the floor. “I live on the third floor, too,” She added loudly, her mouth open in a wide yawn.

  “Are you all related to Pegeen?” Sinead asked, turning her back for the moment in order to fix the buttons on her shirt. When she turned back, they were staring at her, their mouths agape.

  Essie was the first to recover. Words spilled from her. “You might say we’re related in—in.” She stopped, leaned back then seemed to study Sinead. “Your father didn’t tell you …”

  Pegeen breezed through the door, juggling a plate of food and an empty cup. A frown etched her face and her eyes were as hard as gray chips of ice. “I’m sure her da never mentioned our living arrangements.”

  Puzzled, Sinead smiled and took the plate from Pegeen’s hand. “My, that looks utterly delicious, but it’s far too much for me to eat, especially this early in the morning.”

  “Well, eat as much as you can. Trust me, nothing goes to waste at this place.”

  “It’s not early,” Lorie said. “It’s well past the noon hour.”

  “My word, I’ve never slept this late in my life.” Sinead added, frowning.

  Helene offered, “Well, ducks, there’s a first time for everything.”

  The sound of the front door opening then footsteps approaching halted the conversation. Robbie rushed into the room, his arms filled with small bundles.

  He ran to his mother. “Mama, look what I got. My da bought me everything,” he babbled while hugging the packages, his eyes big and bright with joy.

  “How nice…” Her breakfast left untouched, Sinead beckoned her son over to her and hugged him close. “Let mama see. What did you get?”

  Robbie sat on the floor beside her and began ruffling through his packages. He pulled a plain blue shirt out of one. “Look. And it fits me perfect.” He held it up in the air.

  The women exclaimed over it until he tossed it over his head and dug out another shirt, a fine white one. “This one, too.”

  He stood, held it against his chest, twirled it in the air and threw it to one side. He dug back into the packages and pulled out a gray sweater and a pair of long gray trousers. He clutched the trousers to him, her eyes all shiny. “See, Mama. My first man’s clothes.”

  Bowes walked into the room. “Well, I can see ‘tis the wee fella’ who gets all the attention from you lovely ladies.”

  Pegeen stood. “Bowes, can I be getting ye something to nourish yer scrawny body?”

  “Nae, don’t bother. I’ll just eat what’s on this plate here,” he said, indicating Sinead’s plate.

  “That’s yer daughter’s, but I’ll make her another.”

  “Really, I thank you but I’m not hungry. I’ll eat after I wake up a bit more.” She turned to Robbie on the floor beside her. “And what else did you get? Tell me. Come. Show me everything.”

  “My da took lots of things back to grandda’s house. He said I can play with them while he’s working there. I’ll have to go out and help him very soon.” He spilled the remaining packages on the floor, pulled on her sleeve, hunched his shoulders gleefully and giggled. “My da got me a hammer. Just like his. And some nails and some boards and a pail and a shovel and a…”

  “Whoa, Rob, don’t be giving all yer secrets away to the ladies.” Bowes gave all of them a genuine, radiant smile then sat and chewed on a slice of ham from Sinead’s plate.

  Sinead looked up in time to see his eyebrows rise in a flirtatious manner. “And for a bit of information, where might my husband be?”

  “He’s already out at the house, preparing to work on a barn first. He’s got to build a barn quickly.”

  “A barn?” The word pounded a wooden stake through Sinead’s heart. She knew he was a horseman in Ireland, but never thought he would continue the work in America. Well, she’d have something to say about that, she would.

  “Aye. We met young John Morrissey on our travels this morning.” He turned to the others. “You girls know John, the sportsman, don’t ye now?” When they all nodded, he continued. “Believe it or not, the man and some friends are developing a race track off Union Avenue—just to handle another something for the crowds during the summers. Anyway, the man has some fine racing horses that are needing care and training before the races he’s scheduled for August.”

  “Horses?” Sinead stared at her da through hot and fevered eyes. She could barely contain herself. Hatred boiled within her and, with a rumble, roared through her body with enough force to almost knock her down, if she weren’t already sitting on the floor.

  “What horses? You know how I feel about those animals. I can barely ride in a carriage without a fear of the beasts charging through my body like a herd of wild elephants.” She shivered.

  Bowes’ clean-shaven face flushed red. He couldn’t meet his daughter’s eyes, his muscles flexing in his shoulders and arms, his hands fisted. “Well, that’s something ye’d best be discussing with yer man.”

  Sinead leaped to her feet. “I most definitely will.” The certainty of it swept her like a tidal wave and she stared at the floor in embarrassment.

  The ladies, who had been watching the entire procedure with wide eyes, slowly began to push away from the table. They stood and seemed to huddle together. Stale perfume floated in their wake to mix with the sour acid taste rising in Sinead’s throat.

  Essie gave Robbie a wave. “I’ll see you later, darling boy.” In the way of an apology, she said. “I have a two o’clock appointment to get ready for.”

  Lorie stretched, her robe falling open. Totally unembarrassed, she walked by Bowes with the robe trailing after her. “Bowes, I hope we see you later this evening for the usual festivities. Bring your new son with you. It seems like he might be in need of some cheering up by then.” Sneaking a scone from the table and popping it in her mouth, she smiled at Sinead and left the room. Gone less than a second, she darted back in, ran to Robbie and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. One of her breasts fell out of her nightgown. She casually shoved it back in and said, “I need some rest before I greet my client. See you all later…”

  Pegeen shouted, “Jaysus, you girls will be…” She glared after them then glanced at Sinead.

  Bowes groaned in the back of his throat and swallowed the “Jaysus” on the tip of his tongue. He rubbed the scar on his throat, avoiding Sinead’s gaze.

  The last few interactions brought Sinead’s head up. Her eyes widened as her mind hummed in an attempt to understand what he eyes had seen. She looked at the doorway where the women had gone, looked at Pegeen then at her da. A sore, bleeding ache spread to her chest. Sinead softly asked, in a mood clearly less than happy. “Da, what kind of boarding house is this anyway?”

  Bowes started to walk away. He turned back, ruffling his hair then straightening it. He clenched and unclenched his hands then examined his fingernails. “Well, now, Sinead let me tell you…”

  She interrupted. “Aye. Please do.” With a nod of her head in his direction, she moved slowly away from him and sat on one of recently vacated chairs. She folded her hands, her knuckle
s white, in the lap of her skirt. In a voice that seemed to demand obedience, she said, “I’m listening.”

  A fiery red blush invaded Bowes’ face and circled to the tips of his ears. He plastered a potent Irish smile, deceptively harmless, on his mouth, yet with utter confusion, he searched the pockets of his trousers, finally found a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow with the cloth. “Well, now daughter…”

  This time, Pegeen interrupted. “Robbie, I wonder if you would be helping me in the kitchen. I could use a laddie’s hand at me sink. It seems I have much to do and little help. Come, lad.” She held her hand out and Robbie grasped it, his little face shining with importance.

  His smile and the fire in his eyes lit up the room. “What about my bundles? I can’t just leave them here.”

  “We’ll come back in and get them after the kitchen is clean. How’s that for a fine idea?” she asked, shaking her head, making her hair flow like a gaudy rose-colored banner.

  “Okay…”

  When Robbie nodded to her, she turned back to the dining room for a quick word. “You two can get on with yer conversation once we’ve left. I have a sad feeling this won’t be the most pleasant of talks.”

  “I’m going Mama.” He gave Sinead a small wave and followed Pegeen into the kitchen.

  Sinead said nothing, merely stared at her hands clasped tightly together, her lips curled in disgust.

  Bowes shuffled from one foot to another and studied this daughter he loved to distraction. Full of rage and defiance, she is, he thought. Boiling with anger, a difficult woman to please.

  He always tried to do his best for her, her sister and, now, the youngster. It was unfortunate her sister died, but it wasn’t his fault. The disease took her away from them both. Sinead had no right to be angry with him, especially in this circumstance. He coughed into his hand to divert Sinead’s attentive stare.

  He found them a place to stay during the Saratoga Season, an almost impossible thing to do. He’d known only Pegeen would take all of them in, this late in the summer.

  He was reluctant to speak to his own child. “Well, I suppose you want some sort of explanation…” His words trickled off. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  “Really, Da?” Sarcasm dripped from her mouth. “Only say as much as you feel is necessary…” Sinead didn’t look at him, nor did she move a single inch

  His confidence in the face of her cold anger melted like ice in the noonday sun. “This town is filled to the brim during the Season. Places are taken well in advance of the summer. I knew we would be finding enough lodging for all of us, here. Pegeen doesn’t use the boarding house as…”

  “Then why didn’t you have us stay in Albany?” Her words were level, her face calm.

  “Several reasons. I have a home here.”

  Sinead snickered with scorn.

  Instead of the embarrassed flush, Bowes’ face grew mottled with anger. It felt overly warm. He stammered, “What if the Dewitts…found out ye were there…in Albany… and tried to take Robbie from ye then? What would ye have done? Run off foolishly is what ye’d do, for sure. Well, I saved ye the trouble. I did it for ye.”

  She laughed a small, tinkling, mirthless sound. “So your solution was to bring us to a house of ill-repute?” Her insulation from anger fled. Her heart froze, while tears stung her cheeks. A wet, choking sound erupted from between her lips. “Perhaps, Robbie should be taken away from the likes of you and me.” Sinead brought her elbows up onto the table, and her head tilted to find sanctuary in her hands.”

  “Ye don’t mean that for an Irish minute. Ye wouldn’t be giving that sweet child up if yer very life depended on it. Would ye, now?” Bowes moved to her and put his hand on her shoulder in a profound, silent gesture. “Be getting hold of yerself, sweetheart, and I’ll think of something before long.”

  Sinead pushed his hand from her shoulder and wheeled around in the chair to face him. “You’ll think of something. I’m through with you and your thinking for me. Look at the trouble I’m in already.”

  His temper boiled when she turned on him like that, plus, he harbored a wicked hatred for martyrdom. “Ye’re in no trouble, lass.”

  “No? I still don’t have control of Robbie. I’m married to a man I barely know. I’m sitting in a whorehouse with my child and my father doesn’t think of those things as trouble.” Her voice was as icy and hollow as an empty grave in winter.

  “Look at things positively for a change. Ye’re married to a good man who will take care of ye and yer son, and he’ll fight for ye to gain Rob’s custody. And, in turn, he’s asked nothing from ye.” He paced the room, his body straight and tense.

  “Nothing from me, is it?” Sinead’s voice reached higher notes than it had ever reached. She shouted at the top of her lungs. “He wants what every man wants, a woman in his house to cook and clean for him, a woman in his bed to gratify his baser needs and produce his children. And if I do all that, what happens to Robbie then?”

  “Whoa there, lassie. “ Huffy at the ladies being attacked by his own daughter, without her having any true knowledge of their situations, Bowes whirled around to face her. “‘Tis women like that, like yerself, with those thoughts, who force men to seek the very women ye’re so against here. If there wasn’t a need for such ladies, they wouldn’t be here at all. And those here…ye’ve only to talk to them. They’d much rather be in yer shoes, missy.”

  Suddenly, Sinead met his angry gaze with a sad stare. She murmured, “You never mentioned to me that Connor was a horseman, a horseman with ambition. You seemed to have let the information slide somehow. I never heard a word about horses until I got that letter from him. Can’t you just see me as mistress of a horse farm?” The laugh that tumbled from her body was anything but filled with humor. It reeked of the highest form of anguish.

  “Don’t ye think it’s about time ye gave up this fear about the beasties? Like it or no, ye’ve been around them all yer life and nothing’s happened to ye.” The memories Sinead faced almost brought Bowes to his knees. He sensed what she would say, and his shoulders sagged.

  “They killed my mother,” she whispered.

  “One did. It was an accident as I’ve told ye many times before. The poor stallion was only doing what comes naturally to them. Yer ma shouldn’t have been sitting on that fence with a new horse in the paddock, one she didn’t know anything about. She knew better than that.”

  “Well, she paid for her indiscretion with her life. And I had no ma growing up, no life that was ordinary, no friend until Adelaide Cavanaugh took me under her wing.”

  Bowes stopped and took a long look at his daughter. He studied her for a moment then spoke in a soft voice. “Sinead, I have to admit I don’t like what I’m seeing in front of me, and I feel poorer for the picture. What has happened to ye, child? What have I done to ye so bad ye can’t pull yerself together and get on with yer life?”

  She gasped at what she considered harsh words, given the circumstances. She swallowed. Tears welled in her eyes.

  He knew he should stop but couldn’t. “I’m ashamed of yer whining about the things that have happened in yer young life, things that have passed ye by as ye claim. ‘Tis yerself lettin’ them pass ye by, stopping ye from doing the things normal to a woman yer age. Pull yerself together daughter. Get on with the life God gave ye…the business of living.”

  Sinead rose to confront him. “I think ye’ve said just about enough.” She barely resisted blurting out more, allowing the hurt on her face to speak for her.

  Bowes reached out to touch her, but she drew back.

  A deep well of longing opened up inside her. She gave her father an unreadable look then stooped down and swooped all of Robbie’s bundles into her arms. Her back straightened. She hurried through the dining room doorway, down the short hall and out the front door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  What possessed her to attempt this foolish parade toward the possible destruction of her life, as she knew it
? To Sinead’s everlasting misery, the tolerable kind, life had passed her by. She wondered if she was continuing to hide emotions from herself. No, she decided, firm in the convictions of what she didn’t know for sure.

  From the Circular Street boarding house—how could she call that place a boarding house? To the civilized end of Union Avenue was the longest walk she had ever taken alone. And she proceeded on this determined march in the heat of red-hot, sorrowful regrets over her past, simpering and sniveling temper at what her da said to her and apprehensive dissatisfaction with what she believed loomed ahead of her. Although disoriented, she fully intended to change her life, this very day, if she had a say in it.

  When she strode past a particularly dusty section of the road, a sign informed of the track being built for the racing of horses. She stood for a moment and watched, with a warped gaze, the men in the field, stirring up dirt. Drawing herself into a straight line and sticking her nose in the air, she spit on the ground.

  Proud of herself for doing something she’d never done before, something disgusting and coarse, she turned and spit again, not caring if she were seen by anyone. The second bit of spit knocked the pride out of her. He hand covered her mouth, and she staggered away in shame.

  Her stocking-less thin boots were forming blisters on her feet and the sides of her smallest toes. The boots rubbed with every step, as she felt her overheated feet slipping and sliding around, leather scraping at her heels. Unable to walk farther, she sat down by the side of the road beneath a tree offering shade. With a sigh, she leaned against the trunk.

  Her heading to her father’s house was beyond her. She wasn’t the least bit sure what the skewered reasoning for going in that direction was. She couldn’t understand her motivation and she needed to think. Her eyes involuntarily closed and didn’t open until she heard the sound of carriage wheels on the road. Thinking it was probably her father, she stood and waved.

  The large wagon, filled by five burly men in work clothes, went by at a fast clip then stopped, turned around and turned around again. It stopped again directly in front of her.