1863 Saratoga Summer Page 6

  Connor heaved a loud sigh of relief and stared at the lovely creature, now bent over, half crouching as if ready to attack. Although she listed to one side, at a funny angle, her blue eyes stared up at him. Tendrils of hair, the soft color of unripened strawberries, fell down the sides of her flushed face, curled and tangled over her ears. She was breathtaking, despite her look of horror.

  Now, he smiled broadly. Tipping his head in her direction, he said, “’Tis a lovely afternoon, wife. Allow me to introduce myself. Connor O’Malley, your husband and servant.”

  “You certainly look like someone’s servant,” the older woman exclaimed.

  His wife’s mouth fell open. The racing of her heart pulsed visibly in the vibrant stretch of her neck. She tried to speak but words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She gasped for air.

  Fascinated, Connor watched her eyes roll up into her head and her body pitch across the older woman’s lap in a graceless heap. Connor was shocked. The one who was truly his wife had fainted away at the very sight of him.

  He turned to Bowes, his dark eyes further shaded by the twisting of his eyebrows, the furrowing of his forehead and the length and unruliness of his hair. The woman’s obvious fear made him push away from the carriage, eager to leave, his need for acceptance a thumping bass counterpoint to the high pitch of their anxiety. “Sir, with your permission, I’ll return to the ship, retrieve my brother Egan and our belongings. I seemed to have caused your lass some difficulty. For that, ‘tis most sorry I am.”

  “Aye.” Bowes Brennan howled with laughter, his body doubled over, and tears of good humor ran down his face. He straightened, tried to put on a serious demeanor and slapped his knee. “Ye’re an Irish laddie running after me own sweet heart. Call me Bowes, son.”

  Connor grinned. He shook his head and turned back toward the ship. Still shaking his head he mumbled aloud, “’Twas not the welcome I expected but…well, there’s nothing to be done for it now.”

  Chapter Four

  Adelaide Dewitt was angry, more furious than she had ever been in her life. For whatever reason this Irish marriage thing happened to help Jane in her attempts to wrest young Robert from his blood family, it was more than Adelaide could bear. Her face flamed with horror and her fists balled into angry hammers.

  No doubt, her husband would be ashamed of what she knew would be poor behavior. With her rage escalating, she refused to worry about his feelings.

  I have rights! she thought.

  Her eyes felt like fire, burning with unshed tears welling up in them. She glared at Jane, who had fallen across her lap. No help would come from that direction. The girl was as limp as a dead varmint…totally incapacitated.

  Adelaide shoved the foolish girl from her lap and onto Tibby’s. “Here. You hold her sorry Irish self.”

  With a look of disgust on her face, Tibby pushed Jane up against the back seat and held her upright shoulder to shoulder. Jane’s head lolled back onto the small headrest of the carriage. Her mouth hung open.

  Glowering at Jane with utter distaste, Adelaide lost absolute control of herself. The cool, calm outer demeanor, along with any former dignity she might have garnered over the years, fled with her fury. She reverted to the little barefoot Dutch girl she was while growing up in the wilds of Albany, before her husband visited that city and saw the financial advantages of marrying her.

  Any sophistication she had gained in her life was gone. She stood up. The carriage swayed. Her balance was off and she tottered back, half onto the seat, half onto Jane. She quickly rose again. This time, she spread her feet on the carriage floor and held onto the side of the carriage for a moment to balance better.

  Connor watched her, unable to move in any direction, so intent was he on the ensuing scene. No doubt, he had never seen a woman act like this. He wanted to help Jane but was afraid to step into the fray.

  Adelaide knew her mouth was moving as rapidly as her thoughts, but no words came out that she could hear, only gurgling sounds. She gasped for breath, trying to speak. Distressed that her words of condemnation wouldn’t surface, she decided to take action.

  With the long cloth handle of her reticule grasped tightly in her hands, Adelaide swung around it around her head several times until its momentum nearly carried her out of the carriage. She stood, teetering and swaying, her balance askew, the reticule ready to fly out of her hands.

  “I should have known this whole rotten thing was your fault,” she screeched with venom.

  She swung the reticule at Bowes Brennan’s head. “This is another mess you conjured up with your foolish little people and your silly ghosts of days past.” When the handbag connected with Bowes’ head, Adelaide swung it around in the other direction but missed his head by the narrowest margin.

  Bowes ducked and swayed from one side to another. He rolled on the balls of his feet and took several steps back until he bumped into Connor.

  “All you Irish are the same, from that Cavanaugh who married my daughter then yours, to the one you brought here. And just how do you think this marriage will go?”

  She swung the reticule yet another time and missed Bowes’ head again. “You insect, you. This was all your fault. Your fault…your fault…” Adelaide’s words were garbled. “You’ve made my husband’s life a misery with your schemes. You have no understanding of people or their needs…all for the sake of a small boy who barely knows you.”

  Bowes took a step closer. He reached out to Adelaide. “Now, missus. don’t be getting yerself all riled. Yer mister would be quite upset if he saw ye now or if ye were to arrive home all flustered. And for no godly reason.”

  “No reason. It’s you. You’re a schemer, an unreasonable seeker of your own way.”

  “My way?” he asked in a soft voice. “Just because it doesn’t agree with yers? Is that the whole of it, now?”

  “It was your fault Jane married that hulking brute Cavanaugh in the first place. Your stupid suggestions sent her in his direction to wheedle and nag at him. He was too sick to refuse…” she screeched while still trying to whack him.

  “It wasn’t me choice. I didn’t want her to marry an old, crippled man who would never be able to give me grandbabies to dance on me knees. She did it for the boy. ‘Twas her promise to save the boy from Protestantism and the misplaced Republicanism of his grandparents that got her married.” Bowes ducked again.

  Adelaide’s eyes narrowed. She scowled at Bowes with undeniable hatred. “You lie. As always. You thought it would make your daughter rich.”

  Bowes turned away with a look of disgust on his face. He shrugged and turned to Connor, a manly scowl on his face. “Ye just can’t talk to women. ‘Tis something ye should learn, boyo. Aye, learn it now while ye’re young enough. Women have their own female ways of dealing and doing things. They’ll hear nothing from any man of sense. Isn’t that the way of it, now?”

  Connor was hearing these parts of his wife’s story for the first time. He didn’t understand it all but paid close attention to the Dewitt woman. Her accent being somewhat foreign to him, he missed some of her tale of woe. He was not pleased with the little he could understand. Did Sinead fool him, filling him with lies? His muscled arms crossed over his chest and a scowl deepened the angry look on his face.

  And, why is the Dewitt woman continually calling Sinead, Jane? Connor thought while watching the young woman start to move.

  Sinead groaned and tried desperately to rise, to sit upright. Her face was bright red. She wobbled, as if she would faint away again.

  Connor’s long arm snaked up to grab the reticule from Adelaide, who still swung it with abandon. “Madam, ‘tis not the way to handle difficulties. Peace is to be desired above all. If ye have it, difficulties can be solved. Always.”

  He moved closer to the carriage and gently settled Adelaide back in her seat. He bent over her then took his wife’s elbow. With little effort, he helped Sinead to sit up straight. “There, lass, that should help ye in your struggles to rise.”

>   He saw Sinead’s face pale with bewilderment. She looked around as if she didn’t know where she was. She shook her head and looked directly at Adelaide. Perhaps, she heard what the Dewitt woman said. “Are you feeling better, lass?” Connor asked.

  “That I am. Thank you. ‘Tis the heat, and me worries over this day.” She reached between her bosoms and pulled out a lace hanky. With careful strokes, she blotted the moisture from her cheeks and chin.

  “Aye. I agree. ‘Tis over hot and the situation does seem to be a bit awry.”

  “It is at that. We’ll talk later.” The sadness in her blue eyes drew him in closer. She spoke directly to him. “Maybe later, we’ll see if we can make some sense out all this. ‘Tis a bit of a turmoil, for sure.”

  Shouts erupted from another wharf and from the street just ahead. Everyone in the entire area turned to see what caused the ruckus. Many people climbed back onto their carriages, vendors closed up their carts and moved on. Sailors scurried back to their ships. Connor wondered what could be going on terrible enough to make everyone leave the area.

  Bowes moved to the front of their carriage. “Laddie, I have to get these ladies safely home. There are things afoot in this city that are not going well for those involved. See a bit of the way down this very street? There are a few Irish pubs for the local seamen. Fetch yer brother, yer trunks and wait for me in one of them. They all know old Bowes. I’ll escort the ladies home and come back for ye young fellows.”

  Connor saw the distress written on the man’s face and answered, “Aye. I’ll do that.” He turned away from the carriage toward the steamer but quickly turned back to say, “I’ll be seeing you a bit later, wife.” He stared at her lovely face, hoping for a reaction of some sort, but none was forthcoming.

  Sinead nodded and looked down at her lap. “Da, let’s go.”

  “Aye, we’d best go home quickly. We’ll sort all this out later, daughter.”

  Bowes settled the ladies securely in their seats and climbed on to the driver’s. He cracked his whip and gave a jerk of the reins. The horses took off and weaved their way around several of the carts remaining in the waiting area near the piers. Within moments he managed to get onto the street and down it. He drove away from the harbor without a single glance backwards.

  Connor watched them go, shrugged and turned back toward the ship. He’d get Egan, their goods and go to one of the taverns Bowes suggested. He wasn’t quite sure which one. Well, it was of no consequence. He was hungry and could use a pint. He knew Egan would enjoy that too. He smiled as he thought over the events of the day and chuckled when he thought of the beautiful woman he’d have at his side. Suddenly, consummation of the marriage seemed much more appealing.

  ~*~

  Egan stood by the steamer’s railing, exactly where Connor left him. Their trunks were safely tucked behind him. Connor could tell by Egan’s frown and foul expression he had kept his gaze on the actions at the carriage.

  His first words proved it. “What was going on over there? From the little I could see with the ships swaying into my way, one of those ladies took exception to your presence.”

  “Not mine, particularly, although I’m thinking one of them did,” Connor said, puzzled. “I don’t quite know what to make of the whole situation.” He frowned and pushed his hair from his forehead.

  “Well, through the haze from the heat and the light rising from the waters of the bay to make things fuzzy, seemed like they didn’t have much respect for your wife’s da either.” Egan began to laugh then snickered, while patting Connor on the back. “I thought the swinging handbag would take his head from his shoulders.”

  “I think the older woman, Adelaide Dewitt she’s called, has a problem with my marriage, and with Bowes Brennan, who must have been the one to perpetrate the occasion. And I don’t quite understand the reason for it all, but I’ll find out before long, for sure.” Thoughtful, Connor stared out at the ships in the harbor. “And why do those names, Bowes and Brennan, sound so familiar to me?”

  “’Cause da mentioned them for days on end before we left. It almost seemed like he was testing us with the name to see if we liked it. Didn’t want us to forget it, I’m thinking.”

  “Why, I wonder. Well now, it sure does ring a bell, regardless of the reason.” Connor smiled at his brother, bent and swept his trunk onto his shoulder. “I think it’s time to be moving our feet to shore. Do ye think ye can carry your trunk? If not…”

  “Aye. I’m not really ill any more. I think ye enjoy fussing over the likes of me, me being younger, of course,” Egan said, struggling to lift his trunk. It wobbled, tipped to one side but Egan caught it and managed to settle it on his shoulder.

  Connor watched him to make sure he could heft the trunk with ease. Egan seemed to be under no strain, other than the slight buckle of his knees with the initial swing. Connor nodded and the two headed out, wending their way through crates and barrels left on the lower deck of the steamer.

  When they reached the gangplank, a deckhand saluted the two of them. “It’s a good thing you’re leaving now. We’re about to pull the gangplank back onto the ship. Can’t take any chances at night here in this area.”

  “We’ll be off in a second,” Connor said with a smile. “And thanks for the lovely voyage. I enjoyed most of it until everyone got sick.”

  The hand smiled and nodded. “It usually happens once with every crossing.” He chuckled over his own joke. “I hope you get to your destination safely. This is a dangerous place at night, especially on a Saturday when folks don’t need to work the next day. Watch out for gangs of men or boys lolling about away from the gaslights.”

  Connor and Egan marched down onto the dock. They turned and gave the deckhand a hearty wave. For some reason, the entire nest of piers looked strangely desolated.

  Connor wondered why much of the frantic activity had stopped and where many of the people went. Although there were some wagons and carts on the wharf, a quiet, muted atmosphere hung over the area, except for the slapping of the ships in their berths.

  Having little to say at the moment, the two crossed the street and stood under a lit gas lamp. Egan shifted his trunk to his other shoulder.

  “Is it too heavy for you?” Connor asked, frowning with concern.

  Egan grimaced but laughed. “No. ‘Tis light as a feather, for sure. Only needing a few rock to weight it down more.”

  Connor decided to tease him to see if he could recapture some of Egan’s usual humorous bent. “I’ll take it if you want, wee brother.”

  When Egan shook his head, quirked up a corner of his lip and tried to shrug, Connor relaxed. He glanced down the thoroughfare at the number of pubs, taverns and saloons located there.

  “I’ll be…I don’t remember which pub Bowes told me to visit while we wait for him. I wish we could go someplace to get cleaned up.” Connor crossed the street and said, “I get the feeling Bowes Brennan might not be too reliable.”

  “I wondered about it meself when I first laid eyes on him.” Egan replied while following Connor over the cobblestone street. He adjusted the trunk a bit and pointed to a small pub, tucked between two larger ones, which were much seedier and dirtier-looking. The small pub looked quiet and clean. “That pub over there looks a likely place. At least, it has an Irish name on the front. Let’s go there. Get some food. I’m starving.”

  “That’s a good sign. Makes me heart flutter with happiness,” Connor responded. “You weren’t hungry the last few weeks of the voyage.” He looked up at the sign hanging across the front of the building above the doorway. “Clancy’s Saloon. That’s a new one—saloon.” He headed for the doorway. “Well, come on, Egan. Clancy’s it is then.”

  The brothers stood near the building and watched as sailors, day laborers and journeymen, all Irishmen, darted in and out of the saloon. None of them stayed for any length of time. A few left with pails of lager. Each time the door opened, a fog of tobacco smoke and the sour smell of porter floated out the doorway. Conno
r looked at Egan who shrugged, smiled and nodded to the door.

  Connor could hear a noisy argument emanating from inside. He pushed the swinging door in with his foot and held it open so Egan could precede him. The interior, with dark wooden slats halfway up the walls, was dim. As the two entered, all conversation in the bar stopped.

  Once inside, the brothers stood still for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the interior. They glanced around the long room to get their bearings. The entire bar gave off a somber air, as if something was going on there, which couldn’t be seen by the naked eye.

  Connor scanned the room, into the deepest parts of the establishment. His shoulders prickled with unease. He turned to look at the door and vowed not to go too far from it. Nevertheless they placed their trunks down, near to the only bank of windows decorating the front of the place.

  A single, wooden bar, shining and glistening even in the gloom, ran the length of one side of the room. Only soft gas lamps, connected to the back wall, lighted it. Off to the right, there was an alcove, with a stage covered by a long, dark velvet curtain. With only short candles, on tables, for illumination, the furthest reaches of the barroom were nearly black as night.

  A few stools faced the bar, two taken by men, crouched over and sitting half in the dark. Most of the men stood around the bar, singly or in small groups of two or three. Toward the back of the long room, another group of men sat at the three small, round tables.

  Not wanting to disturb the strange, ominous silence, Connor moved to the bar and softly spoke to the barkeep. “Sir, would it be possible for me brother and me to get a bite of food?”

  “All I got is Mulligan stew. Just about to the bottom of the pot,” the man retorted.

  “That’ll be fine. It’ll stick to our bellies, I’m thinking.” This city definitely wasn’t a place to inspire one with the notion of wild and free, Connor thought to himself.

  The barkeep walked the length of the bar and announced loudly, “Two new ones, just off the boat. Give them a break for what’s probably their first meal on shore, and mind yer manners.” He disappeared behind a small door set at the end of the bar.