Mission of Hope
Page 19
“If there are two happier people on God’s green earth at the moment, I’m sure I couldn’t find them.”
Nora rushed up to the reverend and grabbed his arm. “You are the dearest man in the world, Reverend.”
“Only just,” Quinn added, who was at that moment counting Bauers as the finest friend a man could have. “You see her home safe, now.”
“You’ve only enough time to make your appointment, Quinn. Off with you now before you’re late.”
Nora grasped his arm and kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe, Quinn.”
“Always,” he said. It felt like yanking his heart out of his chest to leave the room. “Watch for me, I’ll find a way.”
If there was ground under his feet as Quinn walked to his next training session with the major, he hardly knew it. Today, the Midnight Messenger walked on air.
Just as dawn was slipping strands of pink into the sky, Quinn leaned against the wall and sighed. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure?” Quinn had been dealing mostly with small-time grifters who’d started hinting that there were much bigger forces at work. When he’d relayed his suspicions, Simon promised to look into any large shipments that would be particularly attractive to the marketeers, and he’d identified one later that week.
“Gospel truth,” Leo said. “He’s only the front man. It’s Sergeant Miller that’s got the other half.”
“Theft from the inside? Why would the army steal from the army?”
“When some things fetch so high a price, ain’t too many men can resist. This kind of thing’s been happening all along. It’s just worse now. I know of three others besides.”
“Three other army men?”
“Well.” Leo cocked his head to one side. “One of ’em’s navy.”
Quinn let his head fall back against the wall. “Outstanding.”
“What’s the matter?” Leo flipped one of the coins and caught it midair. “Army own you or something?”
“No one owns me.”
“So, take them down with the rest of the lot. It’d be nice to see some of the high-ups fall.”
Quinn reconfirmed the address of the stockpile again with Leo. How this simple butcher got the information he had, he didn’t know. And didn’t want to know. Leo had friends in places Quinn hoped he’d never have to go. Even more than before the earthquake, there was a whole other city lurking under the one people saw. “You’re sure?” he said once more.
“Dead certain.”
“Let’s hope I’m not dead if you’re not certain.”
Leo made a derisive sound deep in his throat. “No one’d shoot you. You’re a legend.”
“Read some history,” Quinn said as he ducked back around the corner. “Too many times it’s the legends that go down first.”
Quinn managed to get half the shipment redelivered to the official camp the following night. It took four trips—one of which entailed an entirely too close call with a nasty fellow bearing a nastier knife. The other half found its way to both Dolores Park and one of the other unofficial camps nearby. A few things were just too large for one man to carry, and Quinn decided it was worth letting those go. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure how to tell Major Simon that it was one of his own army officers doing the stealing. On one hand, Quinn supposed Simon expected the ever-present corruption to work its way into army ranks eventually. On the other hand, Simon looked so pressed at their last meeting, Quinn feared the major might explode at such news. Is wasn’t as if things weren’t working. People in both the official and unofficial camps got help now. Quinn decided to bide his time, to look for another way than the Midnight Messenger to expose the grand-scale thieves. A way that didn’t entail him meeting the business end of an army pistol.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Papa came to sit beside Nora in the bay window as she stared out into the street after breakfast. If you didn’t peer too closely, things were beginning to look something close to normal. Streetcars went by, even if not nearly as often as they used to. Had it really been months since the earthquake? So much had changed, so many wounds were still fresh. Sam’s foot had completely healed, banks and shops had reopened, but Aunt Julia still cried, people still lived in shacks and stood in line and Nora could still not look at the photograph of Annette on the piano without getting a lump in her throat.
“So quiet,” Papa said, fingering one of Nora’s curls. “Yet, you still think louder than anyone I know.” Papa always said that he could hear her brain turning over a problem from across the room.
“The world is different,” she said, thinking it a vague and cumbersome response. Still, how could she even begin to talk to her father about all that was swirling around in her thoughts?
“I’m glad you see that,” he said, leaning back against his side of the bay window seat. “It is a far more dangerous place out there these days. These are troublesome times. I worry for you and your mother.”
Funny, Nora had meant the better sort of different. She had lived, she realized, in a glossed-over world. A delicate, cultivated world where faith was more of an intellectual, spiritual pursuit rather than a daily act of trust. God as “daily bread,” had become so much more real to her. God was somehow nearer. Clearer. She saw His hand in places she’d never even thought to look before.
Nora turned to her father. “Do you believe Reverend Mansfield when he says God sent the earthquake as punishment?”
“Do I think God smote San Francisco for her sins?” Papa sighed. “Most days, it’s easy to say no. But I’ve seen things that make me wonder. This seems to have brought out the best and the worst of our city. People have stolen from charity. But then people like Major Simon have done so much good.”
Nora decided to ask. “Do you think Major Simon is the Midnight Messenger?”
Papa stroked his beard, smiling. “Well, now, I have to say I haven’t given the idea consideration. I’ve always guessed he had something to do with all of it, but is he the actual man? I couldn’t say. He strikes me as a bit…” Papa hesitated “…too mature for such exploits himself. It’d be quite a story if he were, wouldn’t it?”
Messenger or not, it was certainly hard to improve on Papa’s opinion of Simon.
“I do know,” Papa continued, leaning in, “that he greatly admires you. You should be very flattered, my dear.”
Nora didn’t know what to say. Papa mistook her downturned eyes as modesty instead of bafflement, and perhaps that was for the best. How on earth could she ever tell her parents what she felt for Quinn? They’d never understand, nor would they ever approve. She did not yet know if she could be brave enough to defy her whole family. When Quinn looked at her, she felt strong enough to challenge the world. But here, alone, she faltered.
Papa tipped up her chin, much as he had done when she was a little girl. “What are your feelings on the matter of our renowned major, Nora? I’m of the mind he is seeking a match, and I’d like to know where you stand.”
Nora had hoped it would not come to this. There seemed no way through this conversation without an outright lie to her father, and she didn’t want that. “Where I stand? In regards to Major Simon?”
“Exactly. Should he come seeking a match, what would your answer be?”
“He is very well regarded.”
She was stalling and Papa knew it. “That’s true enough, but I am not asking what others think of him. I want to know what you think of the man.”
“I think him well-bred, distinguished and very clever. He is certain to do great things.” She didn’t lie. Major Simon was those things. But he had not captured her heart. She could no more make herself love him than she could make herself stop loving Quinn.
She loved Quinn.
“Do you care for the man?” Papa asked it so tenderly, she couldn’t lie to him. Most especially about this.
“No,” she said softly. “He is an admirable man in many respects, but he has not captured my affections, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Perhaps before. But now her heart was no longer hers to give to someone else. She knew that if she married Major Simon, it would be turning from love forever. She knew so many women who took a sensible, lukewarm marriage on themselves without a moment’s hesitation. A lifetime of mutual regard, of domestic partnership. Before the earthquake, before all that had happened to her, she suspected she could have done the same.
She could not now.
“I can’t say.” It was the closest she could come to the truth without rejecting Papa outright. Even the concerned disappointment in his eyes just now was painful to bear.
“You are old enough to know your own mind, Nora.” Papa sat back. “But you have also been through a terrible ordeal. Let us simply say that more time is needed. It would be too soon and too cruel to move in such a direction in light of your Aunt Julia, anyway. But we will talk of this again soon, hmm?”
Nora could only nod. Nod and trust that Quinn had indeed found a way. Be very, very mighty, God, she prayed for what seemed like the hundredth time since leaving the Grace House chapel.
Nora was out in the tiny garden, tending to a forlorn patch of flowers she was trying to coax into bloom when a pebble fell at her feet. She thought nothing of it until a second fell a foot or two away toward the backyard fence. And then a third, closer to the edge of the fence. Someone was trying to get her attention from the other side of the fence. It didn’t take much imagination to wonder who it was luring her to the secluded corner of the alley. Peering into the kitchen window to ensure no one watched, Nora nevertheless gathered up the weeds she’d just pulled and made it look as if she was meaning to toss them beyond the fence.
Quinn’s face beamed as she turned the corner, and his smile melted her heart. She did love him. The world felt disjointed when they were apart and centered when they were together, no matter what the circumstances. She realized, as she slid her hand into his, that any efforts to build a future without him would never work. His future had been intertwined with hers. Her heart had moved from “if” to “how.”
Quinn pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I can’t seem to breathe without you.” She felt his deep breath and knew what he meant. She’d become so acutely aware of his absence, so needful of his presence that it did feel as if she choked without him. He pulled her back to look at her. “Ma suspects.”
“How?”
“Well, it might be closer to say she suspects something. She told me this morning I looked…oh, what was the word…besotted. And she had the oddest look when she said it. Something halfway between a scowl and a smile, or both together, maybe.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I feel distracted all the time. You make it hard for a man to concentrate, did you know that?”
Nora melted against his chest. “How much longer? We don’t have much time.”
“We’ve time enough.” When she shook her head, he pulled back to look at her again. “What’s the matter?”
“Papa asked me to consider Major Simon. Wanted to know what would be my reply if the major…declared his intentions.”
She felt Quinn stiffen. “Has he?”
“Not directly. But believe me, he’s getting plenty of encouragement from Mama and Papa. I suppose I should be glad my father asked my opinion at all, from the way he talks.”
“He’d better ask your opinion. You’ve the right to your own mind on this, surely.”
Nora pulled out of his embrace to pace the alley. “He feels I’m too troubled by all that’s happened to see clearly. I hesitated all I could, but he saw that hesitation only as confusion, not reluctance. I couldn’t lie to him. I couldn’t say yes just to please him, but I couldn’t say no yet, either.”
“You’ll have to tell him outright, sooner or later.”
“You know it’s not that simple. My parents’ anger aside, Major Simon isn’t the kind of man to take such a rejection easily. I fear he would make things very difficult for my family, if not just you and I.”
Quinn’s features darkened. “If he knows your heart is elsewhere, why would he pursue you?”
Nora leaned back against the fence. “Papa says matches of quality can’t always be about love. He’s going to ask me to trust him for what’s best for me, I know it.”
He looked at her, intensity sharpening his gaze. Quality had been exactly the wrong word to use. “And will you?”
“No,” Nora said, turning to face him. “Even as I was talking to him I could see how impossible it was.” She took a breath, realizing now was indeed the time to say it. “I love you. My life lies with you. I can’t turn my back on that even if it made all the sense in the world.” She put her hands on his chest. “You’ve got to find a way because I’ve got to be with you.”
Quinn took her face in his hands, staring so deeply into her eyes she felt the ground drop out from underneath her feet. “I love you, Nora.” His voice was deep and warm, yet very serious. “I’ll not let another man take what I know God’s given to me. We belong together. The how and the when, they’re just details. You hang on to that. I love you.” He kissed her—a declarative, powerful kiss that seemed to stake his claim to her heart and dare the world to do anything about it. They were so much stronger together than they were apart.
It seemed far too short a time before he sighed and said, “You’d best get back. I’ve loads to do and your ma will worry if she looks out the window and sees you gone.” He kissed her hand, grinning as he had that first time back in Reverend Bauers’s study; a cocky, dashing smile that melted her heart all over again. “I’ll come again soon. Count on it. You hold fast and leave the rest to me.”
Quinn pulled on his boots with a troubled heart. Simon was stepping up his pursuit of Nora. He was also stepping up things all over the camp and the regiment—the man was on the move. Toward what, he couldn’t say. He had the most foreboding sense of collision, however. Of the impending crash of so many intentions—his, Nora’s, Simon’s—that worked against each other. If Simon succeeded, if he brought the relief efforts out from under the corruption, it’d be partly through Quinn’s own hand as the Messenger. And Quinn would come out as a man of position because of it. Her parents might hold him in higher regard once they knew he was the Messenger. Yet, there was the stark truth that even with an army commission and the shot at a draftsman’s training, he still couldn’t compete with Simon’s pedigree and standing. Would it even matter if Nora expressed her own mind on the subject? Simon’s success meant his own, but it still might not prevent his defeat where Nora was concerned.
And then there was the small matter of army corruption. Could the Midnight Messenger really be selective in exposing the grifters? Make trouble for the small-time marketeers on the outside but leave those inside the army alone? Or did he have to bite the hand that fed him and trust God with the consequences? I’ll need so much wisdom tonight, Lord, You’d better be watching my every move. Tonight he was tackling one of the larger shipments rumored to have been diverted by Sergeant Miller, right under Simon’s nose. How it would all end, Quinn had no idea.
The shipment that night involved a variety of things—foodstuffs, building materials, medical supplies, dry goods. The selection wasn’t that unusual, but the quality was the sort that would bring a particularly high price to the right set of deep pockets. He’d managed one trip to fetch the wayward goods without incident and was doubling back for a second when he spotted the sergeant himself standing guard. Someone had evidently realized things were
going missing. By the time he’d managed to fill his duffel a second time, he’d been spotted. Shouts turned to drawn pistols, and Quinn found himself dodging bullets as he made his escape. It was far too close a call to chance a third trip—the rest of the goods would have to fall into the wrong hands. Not only that, but the shouts he heard as he fled made one thing crystal clear: the army grifters knew the Midnight Messenger had discovered them. How Simon would handle it from here, Quinn could only guess. There was no hope of keeping it quiet any longer.
Simon was curt with Quinn the next morning, but said nothing at all about the night’s developments. It seemed odd—foolish, even—not to deal with the problem at hand, but the major’s tension was all too obvious. Perhaps he had some reason for not discussing it. He was, after all, a very clever man who knew the army’s intricacies far better than Quinn did. When he handed Quinn a relatively minor list of supplies for the Messenger this evening—hidden at a location off Fort Mason property this time—Quinn assumed Simon was backing off until a strategy could be developed. Minor was good. The location was also appealingly close to Nora’s house. If he were quick about it, he might find a way to see her or at least leave some kind of gift. That proved too enticing an opportunity to miss. Quinn hadn’t had a night he would classify as “minor” in two weeks.
The evening proved far from minor. Rather than an easy delivery, Quinn found himself escaping down the alleyway at full speed. The small stockpile of fabric and beans in no way merited the four men with very large pistols who were guarding it. Quinn ducked left as shots whizzed by him to the right, hearing a tin in his duffel hiss as it took an entirely too-close bullet. Where had all these armed thugs come from in this neighborhood? Why now, when tonight should have been easy pickings? Panting, Quinn tucked and rolled behind a barrel as another handful of bullets peppered the wall to his left.