“Yes, I am,” he said, emptying his coffee cup.
Once on the road, Thomas experienced a sense of blame about accepting the government contracts. With every step of the horse’s hooves, his mood only worsened and not even the gay red, white and blue banners decorating the tavern could alleviate his guilt. Inside, colorful streamers were attached to the bar as well as the table facing the door. Two men sat in attendance verifying names and handing out ballots.
“Good morning,” one said as they approached.
Thomas smiled with effort. “Morning Heustis. I see you got the early shift.”
Heustis checked off their names while the other attendant handed each a pencil and three ballots. “Yep. Figured it’s too early for the fistfights to start. The mouthier ones ain’t up yet.” He grinned, pointing to several deputies leaning against a wall. “Course, if’n it’s not, these guys will knock some sense into their empty heads.”
As Thomas and Reagan took positions at the end of the line, three boys too young to vote, entered the saloon. Finding it less than exciting, they swaggered to the bar and loudly demanded to be served.
The bartender, with his elbows propped on the countertop, didn’t move. “You boys know the saloon’s closed,” he said.
“Aww, just one little drink?” begged one, leaning in. “Since we’re not gonna vote, none should mind.”
“The bar is closed,” he repeated.
“Ye’re no fun,” another said. Hitching up his pants, he puffed out his undeveloped chest. “This ain’t th’ first time I’ve had liquor, neither.”
When the bartender continued to ignore them, the smallest spoke up, raising his chin to get a better view. “Ain’t you got nuthin’ fer us, Mister?”
Sighing, the bartender reached under the bar and pulled out three glasses, banging one in front of each boy. He went into the back room and returned with a crock. After pouring a cloudy liquid, he set the jar down and folded his arms.
“Well, you wanted something. Now you got it.”
The urchins looked at each other before picking up the glasses and drinking.
“It’s cider!” squeaked one.
“Thanks, Pops,” the oldest said, pushing himself upright. Clinging together, the boys began to sing as they staggered out the door.
“Pops!” the bartender muttered, gathering empty glasses.
When Thomas reached the booth he felt his own need of a drink, thinking the sooner he left, the better he’d feel. After marking his ballot, he emerged to see Reagan speaking with George.
“Good morning,” Thomas said, dropping his ballots into a box. “Are you here to observe or vote?”
“Neither. I saw your carriage outside and came to invite you to Mayor Hampton’s tonight. The telegraph office is staying open and Sam’s been assured it’s the first place they’ll send the results before closing for the night.”
Thomas was about to decline when Reagan spoke. “It sounds just like the diversion we need, eh father?”
George smiled. “Great. We’ll be gathering around seven. I’ve got a few more to round up yet. Of course, Katherine’s invited also.” As he turned to leave, Reagan touched his arm.
“Mr. Bruester, if you have a moment. I’d like a word with you.”
“Uh-oh!” George said, winking. “When he calls me Mister, he’s up to something.” Slapping Reagan on the shoulder, George headed for the door. “Speak with me tonight. I’ll have more time.”
Despite Thomas being unusually quiet on the ride home, Reagan felt buoyant that he had laid another brick toward his goal. The most delicate piece however, had yet to be formed. He simply had to find a way to capture Amanda’s betrothal.
Chapter Seventeen
The Burnsfield carriage slowed as it waited its turn to approach the Hampton residence. A riderless horse was tied to the rear of the carriage. Though curious about the election results, once Reagan received permission to court Amanda, he intended leaving the party.
Elizabeth stood at the door, smiling as their newest guests crossed the threshold. “Mr. And Mrs. Burnsfield, Papa will be glad you came.” Turning to Reagan, she offered her hand while her eyes swept his stylish suit and perfectly knotted cravat. “Reagan. It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”
“You look exquisite,” Reagan said, taking her hand. “The mayor must be proud he has such a striking hostess.”
“You’re too kind,” she said. She then turned to Thomas and Katherine who had handed their wraps to a servant. “I had such a wonderful time at Amanda’s ball and nearly swooned at Reagan’s ability to dance.”
Katherine smiled. “He must’ve inherited a bit of his father’s magnetism. As I recall, my first dance with Thomas was equally inspiring. Let’s hope he uses it wisely.”
Appearing beside Elizabeth, Mayor Hampton beamed. “Welcome! George said he’d snared the Burnsfield clan.” He scanned the hallway. “But where’s your lovely daughter, Amy? Not taken a chill, I hope.”
“Oh, no,” Katherine said. “She’s spending the night with a friend. It seems their talk centers around the season’s fashions and the subject of boys. She’s decided both are quite beyond her understanding.”
The mayor laughed. “Unfortunately, given a few more years, that’ll completely change.”
Thomas nodded his agreement. “So far, we’ve avoided the pitfalls of young infatuations. But tell me,” he said, indicating Elizabeth, “how have you managed to keep such a beautiful daughter unattached? I must know your secret, so I can keep Amy into my old age.”
“That my friend is a mystery even to me.” Hampton cleared his throat. “However, I fear someone may’ve caught her eye, for she’s been unduly distracted of late. I can only lay blame to some swain who’s captured her fancy.”
“Papa!” Elizabeth reddened, glancing furtively at Reagan.
“All right, daughter. I’ll be quiet and leave you to your duties. No telling how much longer I’ll have the privilege of having you in my home. Come,” he said, offering his arm to Katherine. “I have guests anxious to speak with your husband about Douglas’s chance of winning the Southern vote.”
As the mayor escorted the Burnsfields to the drawing room, Elizabeth laid a hand on Reagan’s sleeve. “Please forgive my father. He can be frightfully indelicate.”
“Let’s just say that for tonight the mayor is only a father and enjoys teasing his daughter,” he said warmly.
Elizabeth sparkled as she tucked her hand inside Reagan’s arm. Knowing he would be among the guests, she had chosen a flattering muslin gown decorated with braids and tassels. Though modestly designed, the gown accentuated her form and she hoped, would snare Reagan’s eyes.
As they entered the drawing room, Reagan noted among the guests George Bruester conversing with his business partner, Ezra Spelding. Leroy stood nearby, looking dejected as he sipped wine. After a quick sweep of the room, Reagan saw that Amanda was absent and surmised she had made good on her promise to visit her Aunt Gabriella.
“Ah, my friend!” Beauregard approached, smiling widely. “You came to see how Ohio votes.” He made a show of kissing Elizabeth’s hand. “Belle amie, have I told you how exquisite you look this evening? Don’t you agree?” he asked Reagan.
Reagan wondered what was wrong with Beau. Of late, his interruptions were becoming an annoying habit. Subduing the urge to put the Frenchman in his place, he instead smiled at Elizabeth. “As a matter of fact, those were the very words I used when I came in this evening.”
Beau winked. “Then we are in agreement again Monsieur, no?”
“Gentlemen, all this praise mustn’t keep me from my duties. Beau, if you’ll please excuse us, I have to get Mr. Burnsfield some refreshment.” Touching Reagan’s arm, she tried directing him toward the sideboard.
Beauregard held up a hand. “Please, allow me.” Turning, he signaled a servant carrying a tray. “Monsieur, over here.” The servant approached, offering various liquors.
El
izabeth declined with an annoyed shake of her head while Reagan selected a dark wine. Beauregard chose a snifter of brandy. Swirling the liquid, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Intoxicating!”
“I thought you had no interest in elections, Beau. I’m rather surprised you’re here,” Reagan said.
“Oh, I received an invitation from Mr. Bruester as I took my constitution past the saloon,” he said.
“In the middle of town?” Reagan looked askance.
Beau nodded. “Oui. As I was saying, I was taking my morning walk when Mr. Bruester spied me from afar. He said my presence would be much appreciated at the Mayor’s home since we are all such good friends now. I think to myself, mais oui! I can meet all my friends and see also who wins the elections.”
“George was at the saloon, that’s true,” Reagan said. “But none of the businesses were open.” He looked perplexed. “Except of course, the one place always open…”
“De Sot!” Beauregard cast Reagan a piercing look. “I correct you, my friend. Perhaps, while walking I became a little…lost. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so close.”
“I’m sure that was the case, Mr. Barrington,” Elizabeth said, looking past Beau’s shoulder. She brightened suddenly. “There’s someone I wanted to introduce to Reagan, so if you’d pardon us?”
“Miss Elizabeth.” Looking apologetic, a young maid came toward them. “There’s more carriages arriving, Miss Elizabeth. Your father told me to let you know so you could greet the guests.”
Elizabeth pressed together her palms, forcing the irritation from her voice. “It seems duty calls,” she said. “Please, enjoy yourselves, gentlemen.” She then nodded to Reagan. “I’ll make those introductions later.”
As Elizabeth turned away, Beauregard stepped close. “Outré, why can’t you be more discreet!”
Reagan regarded him with an upraised brow. “I wasn’t the one who blurted out that you took your morning exercise past the saloon, which just so happens is next to the brothel!”
“Oui, but if you would’ve kept your mouth shut, Miss Elizabeth would not be at this moment putting two and two together. I will now be her jack-a-nape! The butt of her jokes.”
“Which reminds me,” Reagan said, frowning. “Why do you intrude every time I’m in the company of a woman? Don’t you have enough diversions to keep you satisfied?”
“Why? Why? I can’t believe you ask me that!” He threw up a hand. “I do you a favor, cher ami. I see Elizabeth make Doux Yeux at you.”
“I’m afraid my French doesn’t cover that expression,” Reagan snapped.
Beauregard pointed two fingers at his own eyes. “She makes tender glances at you, Monsieur. I think to rescue you from la femme.”
“You, rescue me? In truth, it is I who should be rescuing all the fair damsels from such a rogue as you.”
Beauregard set aside his snifter, considering the pleasure of unsheathing a rapier sharp retort. He was denied his bit of fun however, for across the room Katherine had sensed Reagan’s agitation and decided to interject some motherly interference.
Feeling a gentle touch, Beauregard turned. “Madam Burnsfield, it is good you come. I am about to settle a disputation.”
“Oh? What has my son done this time?” She looked pointedly at Reagan. “Because if he doesn’t behave himself, I’ll make sure his bedroom stays as cold as an icebox while he’s home. It’s the least I can do, since I can no longer spank him.”
Beau’s pique immediately dissolved. Katherine had shown him too much kindness to cause her distress. “Tis nothing, Mademoiselle, but a misunderstanding between two morons that haven’t the sense to quit while their tongues are ahead.”
“I had hoped to avoid this, but it seems Reagan’s behavior requires an explanation,” she said, sighing. “As you can see, Reagan’s not been himself lately. I’m afraid he’s not well.”
Reagan looked mildly amused, but remained silent while Beau tapped a finger against his mouth.
“I suppose,” he said, squinting one eye. “Reagan’s been under some stress with the new mill.”
Katherine’s eyes twinkled. “If you want the truth, he’s even mentioned spooks and fairies and forest sprites.”
Beau stared, open-mouthed. “He did?” He turned toward Reagan. “Sacrebleu,” he whispered. “I had no idea!”
Reagan gave his mother a pained expression. “Is this really necessary?”
“But Reagan, I don’t want Beau thinking this is how you normally act.”
The Frenchman shook his head sorrowfully. “You’re a very sick man, cher ami. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reagan set aside his wine. “Because, my dear mother is fabricating the whole thing to punish me. And, she’s going to recant her story, aren’t you, Mother?”
Katherine pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and daubed her eyes. “The doctors have assured me-”
“Doctors?” Beau’s eyebrows shot up.
“There are no doctors,” Reagan snorted, crossing his arMs. “Look, I’m sorry Beau. I’ve been rude, and perhaps jumped to the wrong conclusions. I know you’d never deliberately trample upon my relationships. There,” he said, barely containing his ire. “Is that satisfactory, Mother?”
Katherine touched Beau’s shoulder. “Could you leave us a moment? I’d like to have a private word with my son.”
“But of course!” He cupped her hand in both of his. “And rest assured Madame, your secret is safe with moi.” Beau clasped a brotherly hand on Reagan’s shoulder before making his way toward a group gathered around Camilla Muelder.
Katherine held her tongue until Reagan gave her his full attention. “I realize your responsibilities can be difficult,” she said. “What I don’t understand, is taking your frustrations out on those closest to you. It’s not like you, and recently it’s become a habit.”
“You’re right,” Reagan said, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize again to Beau. He’s always been your favorite.” He patted her hand reassuringly. “Let’s find Father before he misses you.” He led her past several groups until they found Thomas conversing with the Mayor and Judge Ambrose McCleary.
“There you are!” Thomas smiled as he placed his arm around Katherine’s waist. “Judge, this is my wife, Katherine. Katherine, this is Judge McCleary, the most feared Justice in the court.”
McCleary laughed heartily while taking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Don’t let it get around that I don’t actually eat children for breakfast, though. It might strengthen a few weak knees that come before me.” He gestured with his hand. “And this must be Reagan. There’s no mistaking the resemblance, I’m afraid.”
Reagan extended his hand, feeling surprising strength in the magistrate’s grip. “Guilty as charged,” he quipped. Polite laughter rippled through the group as conversation returned to the prevailing topic.
“So, which delegates will cast the Ohio vote, Republican or Democrat?” McCleary posed the question to Reagan. “Your father seems rather reluctant to venture a guess.”
“We won’t get official word of who wins the Presidency for a day or two,” interjected Mayor Hampton. “But once we know which party takes Ohio, we’ll surely know who’ll be in the White House.”
Reagan grinned. “I agree with the mayor. Whoever takes the Northern vote will also win Ohio.”
“Ha! You’re just as disinclined to comment as Thomas,” the judge huffed in good humor. “What is it about businessmen that keeps them from expressing their views?”
Thomas smiled. “Well, for one thing, we sell lumber to members of both parties.”
Casually scanning the room, Reagan spied Derrick Banning. Handsomely dressed as usual, Derrick was in conversation with Lorelda Hargrove, who for once seemed comfortable being away from Camilla’s side. With any luck, she would keep Derrick occupied long enough for him to locate George. Excusing himself, Reagan found the banker with a plate in his hand, looking over the appetizers. As George turned, he nearly collided with Re
agan.
“Reagan my boy,” he said. “It’s only you. I nearly spilled my food and this is the only supper I get.”
“Surely you didn’t spend the entire day extending invitations, did you?”
“Naw,” he said. “It’s just that when Emily discovered I accepted the Mayor’s invitation, she decided we wouldn’t have time for a proper meal.” He popped a morsel into his mouth. “Besides, she wasn’t too happy I consented to a few drinks along the way. But I didn’t tell her the half of it.” He grinned before thumping his chest. “I had a lot more than just a few!” Leaning close, George shut one eye. “Let me give you some advice about women. Don’t ever let them have the upper hand. If you do,” he said, shaking his head, “they never give it back.” He peered at Reagan suddenly. “Didn’t you have a question? It seems you were, uh, going to ask something…” He scratched his head. “You know, at the saloon.”
“I did have a request,” Reagan began. “Perhaps, it should wait for another time. With all your uh, drinks, I’m afraid you might forget our conversation.”
“Nonsense!” He waved his hand before devouring another tidbit. “I’m perfectly capable of making a decision. And, if it’s about courting my daughter, then yes, you may,” said George with a sudden hiccup.
“Just like that?” Reagan asked. “No questions about my intentions?”
George wrapped a fatherly arm around Reagan. “If I had to stop and question every young man that asked to court my daughter, I’d not be free to do anything else.”
Reagan looked dismayed. “That many?”
“It’s mostly been invitations to family dinners. So far, Amanda doesn’t seem to have a favorite, though Emily seems to approve of just about all of them.”
“But, I have more than a passing interest,” Reagan said. “I think it’s important I express my intentions.”
“All right. All right.” George sighed and withdrew his arm, giving his best impression of interest.
“First of all, I want you to know my intentions are honorable.” Now that the moment had arrived, Reagan found it surprisingly difficult. He cleared his throat before continuing. “However, since my frequent and prolonged absences put me at a disadvantage, I’d like permission to accompany Amanda without a chaperone, if one cannot be arranged on such short notice.”
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