He ran his fingers through his blond hair. “Oh, it’s just there’s something I’ve been wanting to share with you for quite some time.”
Clare placed the lantern on the table beside them and took both of his hands. “Tell me, Andrew. What’s on your heart?”
He gazed at her for a few moments with nurturing in his eyes. “I never liked the newspaper. Not the ink on every part of my body. The stress of the finances. The customers clawing out my eyes, and the community kicking my ankles.”
“What?”
“That was my father’s newspaper. The great Charles Royce. And I kept it going for him. But then, it was you. You are such a talented writer, and I know how important—”
She put a finger to his mouth. “Say no more, Andrew. I am tired. Very, very tired.”
“You as well? I am so glad to hear this. I mean, not that you’re tired. But that, you know what I mean.” He put his hand to her face and smiled.
“Yes.” Clare melted at his touch. “And now, my love, I have a secret I have been keeping from you. A deep yearning. One I have ignored because it has been impractical. Impossible. Not even worth mentioning.”
She took the Atlantic Telegraph Company stock from his hand and held it up. “Until now.”
Chapter 59
The Wedding Gift
“Should we have spent so lavishly?” Clare shifted in her green glass-beaded gown, feeling both uncomfortable and awkward in her dress shoes.
Andrew took a sip from his glass of cider. Then he spoke above the playing of the string quartet, whose music was encouraging the merry feet of dozens of ballroom-dressed dancers, exchanging partners with laughter and cheers. “You told Caitlin she could have the wedding of an Irish princess.”
“Yes, and she must have thought I said English queen.”
He curled a finger around his glass and pointed toward Caitlin dressed in a long, slender white dress. Standing beside her was Owen, graciously accepting handshakes and congratulations. “How could you deny such joy to your sister and the Daily’s most valuable employee?”
Clare nudged Andrew with her elbow. “I thought I had that honor?”
“You used to be the most valuable until, of course, you retired to begin writing your novel. And I suppose Owen won’t be an employee much longer either.”
“Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t be concerned about money on a day like this. With Cyrus’s generosity, this is hardly a strain. And Caitlin does look so happy.” Her sister glanced over to them and smiled broadly.
“And there is . . . much to celebrate.” Andrew gave her a knowing nod.
She tapped him on the chest of his long-tailed black suit. “Now don’t you go giving away our little surprise before its time.”
“I cannot preserve the secret anymore. Could I at least confide with the holy man?” Seamus was across the room, still wearing the black suit and white collar he wore to perform the nuptials. He had his arm locked with Ashlyn, who flowed with elegance in her navy dress, and they both were in cheerful conversation with Grace and Anders, who seemed to be enjoying his first visit to New York.
“You best be kind to Seamus,” Clare said, “as he is now much better connected than either you or I. Who would have believed that?”
Andrew pointed and Clare followed the direction of his finger to the edge of the dance floor, where Garret was patiently teaching his sister, Ella, how to dance. “He’s become a real gentleman,” she said. “So much so that I am afraid he won’t share with us his true feelings. Do you think he will be fine with our decision?”
“He seemed genuinely excited, I must say.” Andrew set his empty glass on the tray of a server passing by. “If not, at least Garret will have many years to get over his deep regret.”
“Which means only one family member remains for me to fret about.” Clare waved to try to catch Davin’s attention, who leaned with his back against the wall, his arms crossed. Finally he noticed Clare, and with some reluctance he ventured his way toward them.
Clare straightened out his tie and dusted off his shoulder. “Look how handsome you are without that scruffy beard you’ve been wearing. There now. I can see around this room at least a handful of delightfully eligible young ladies, each no doubt grieving your sour disposition.”
“I am terribly sorry. Is it that obvious?”
Clare gave an “I am afraid so” nod.
“All right then, I will do better. It’s the least I can do for Cait.” He held out a hand to Andrew and they shook. “This is truly a wonderful wedding you’re hosting.”
“It is all Caitlin’s doing. She had been planning her wedding for more than a year. It’s just . . . with Andrew and my recent good fortune, we were able to sweeten her arrangements a tad. And she’s never been pampered before. Never in her whole life.” Then Clare sighed and straightened the rose pinned to his coat. “But we were discussing you, dear brother. How are you?”
“Me? I am doing well enough. The farm is coming back nicely and I enjoy the labor. Seamus and Ashlyn have been so generous with their hospitality.”
Clare could see there was something else. “But?”
He hesitated. “I haven’t shared this with them yet, but I’m feeling as if I should be . . . going somewhere. There is a stirring in my spirit I can’t explain.”
“Clare, Andrew, what a magnificent celebration this is.” They all turned to see they were joined by a gray-bearded man outfitted in a Union officer’s dress uniform.
“And we are so pleased you made the trip out here.” Andrew put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’ve been a dear friend to us.”
“General Blaine,” Clare said. “This is my brother Davin. He served in the Irish Battalion and then Sheridan’s regiment.”
“Is that so?” The general’s eyes were glazed with drink, which he must have smuggled in with a flask.
“Lieutenant Hanley, sir.” Davin shook his hand. “Or should I salute?”
“Careful, son.” The general leaned in and swayed. “I detect a few rebels in our midst.”
Davin turned to Clare. “The general’s name sounds familiar. What am I remembering?”
Clare cleared her throat and looked to Andrew. “General Blaine is our friend who worked as the army’s liaison with the Pinkerton Agency.” She feared where this was heading.
“Is he the one you spoke about in regards to Muriel?” Davin looked at the general with renewed interest.
“Muriel?” The general faced Clare.
“Yes. Remember the young lady who had been in our house?”
“Oh. The reb spy.”
Clare put her hand on Davin’s shoulder. “Yes, but I suppose this isn’t a good—”
“Ah yes.” The general’s eyes lit up. “This reminds me, I need to fess up on a little lie.” He turned to Davin. “National secrets and all.”
“Really, General.” Clare pleaded with Andrew for assistance.
“I told you she was killed. But that wasn’t the truth. I couldn’t tell you then, but I can now.”
“What?” Davin asked. “What was the truth?”
The general gave Davin a dismissive look and continued to speak to Clare. “She turned, the little lady. Arranged to fake her own death and the Pinkerton boys helped her with that. Then she worked for us. Old General Sherman has her to thank for Atlanta.”
“So she’s alive?” Clare asked.
“I don’t know about that. Can’t be too loved by either the North or the South. More than a few people would string her on a tree if they recognized her.”
“Then why would she do it?” Andrew reached for Clare’s hand.
“Turn?” The general laughed, loud enough to draw attention. “That’s the humorous part of it all. She told them the reason was she fell hard for a Union soldier.” He looked at Davin. “Now that’s a fella I’d like to salu
te.”
Clare could see the emotion churning in her brother’s gaze and she needed to rescue the day for Caitlin. “Andrew, do you think now would be a good time . . . for our announcement?”
“Already?” He met her stern eyes. “Yes. Of course. I’ll gather the others.”
It was not a simple task to sweep the bride and groom away from their admirers off into a private adjoining room, but Andrew could be resolute when given an assignment. Clare’s sudden nerves as she stood before her brothers and sister underscored the levity of what she was about to share. She signaled to her husband.
Andrew reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Owen. “This . . . is our wedding gift. We pray it is received with the joy of our intentions.” Then he shuffled over to Clare and held her hand as they watched with anticipation.
“What could it be?” Caitlin leaned over Owen’s shoulder as he tore carefully at the envelope. Once opened, he slid out a long document, and the two of them read through it with confusion forming on their faces.
“I don’t understand.” Owen held up the papers.
“It’s the deed to the New York Daily.” Andrew squeezed Clare’s hand. “The newspaper is yours.”
Clare worried she saw disappointment in their eyes. “Of course, unless you don’t want it.”
“Of course, we do.” Owen burst into a beaming smile. “I’ve dreamed all of my life of owning my own newspaper. And the Daily is the best of them all.”
“Well,” Andrew said, “maybe not the best, but it’s been with the family and we’d like to keep it that way.” He put his arm on Owen’s shoulder. “But that’s after we put in the new press, and we’ll have an account to help you keep operations going. We don’t want the two of you to get old as quickly as we have.”
“That’s wonderful. Amazing.” Caitlin held back her tears. “But what about you? What will you do?”
“That?” Clare glanced toward Andrew. “That’s something else we need to discuss with all of you.”
Chapter 60
The Sea Air
Monterey, California
October 1866
Davin felt alive again with California flowing through his veins.
The voyage from the East began with many reflective hours spent gazing out the windows of whistling, smoke-spewing trains. The great, shining engines blazed across newly laid tracks, and he reveled in the landscape of a healing nation unfurling in all of its youthful promise.
Then he chose horseback to savor his return to the soil where he once harvested prosperity. He traveled through the High Sierra, with its majestic mountains lofted with granite spires and alpine forests dusted with early season snow. In the hills of gold country, Davin passed burro trains and wiry, bearded, sun-reddened prospectors, their shovels and picks slung on their shoulders as loosely as their dreams. Then he traversed alongside undulating hills and winding rivers, past verdant farmland and ranches spattered generously with grazing cattle.
To the burgeoning metropolis of San Francisco, the still-untamed Barbary Coast. With its harbors awash with tall-masted ships and billowing steamships bearing eager-eyed passengers. They arrived from the farthest reaches, of many tongues and nations, yet shared the same hopes for riches and a better life.
Much was different since he left this rustic territory six years ago, as California was mostly isolated from the bugle calls, the cannon shot, and the winds of devastation. But the greatest change was deep within his soul. Because of this, he was seeing all of this country as a new man and for the first time again.
It grieved him to think of how much of his journey in years past he had squandered, distracted by the inner callings of his desires. Sending him on long, thorny trails leading only to emptiness and unfulfilled expectations.
He yearned to do as Seamus had taught him, to hear those sweet melodies that had so ably guided and ministered to his brother. Was that not what brought Davin here? Across this distant land? Or was this another wild pursuit?
Davin rode his gray stallion across the sprawling green field, which he shared with meandering sheep who watched him with curiosity as they chewed tall grass. He continued until arriving at the edge of a dark, rocky sea cliff. Carefully, he leaned over his saddle causing the leather to squeak, and he peered along the sweeping coastline, where deep shades of blue waters arrived at the sandy shore with white, frothy waves.
He breathed in the crisp sea air and enjoyed the sky dances of seagulls.
This was it. It was time.
Davin turned the reins and they were trotting southward toward a group of buildings sprawled along a broad plateau. Once close he saw a small country house, a barn, and a shed; each built with wood that had grayed over time by the ocean’s burnishing winds and salt air.
Davin worked his way around a slatted fence to the gate. There hung a sign that creaked in the wind. The words painted on it read: “The Cliffs Veterinary.” He dismounted, feeling the wear of a long ride in his thighs. He opened the wobbly gate and entered, leading his horse behind him.
In the field, he discovered the purpose of the fence, as animals wandered about, including a cow that was limping and a sheep that appeared injured by shears. He passed by wooden tables covered with rusted wire cages occupied by rabbits, raccoons, birds, and other creatures.
Davin heard a muted conversation ahead and noticed a wagon in front of the barn, its horse standing patiently.
“Make sure you feed her twice a day. The milk should be warm but not too hot.” The voice he recognized.
The barn door opened and a boy holding a foal in his hands emerged with a man similar enough in appearance to be his father. The man seemed startled to see Davin lurking but recovered and gave him a tip of his wide-brimmed black hat.
With his heartbeat ascending, Davin observed as the boy gingerly placed the baby horse on straw in the back of the wagon before climbing in with it. And in a few moments they were moving, then out the gate and heading away.
“May I help you, sir? Is something troubling your horse?”
Davin took off his hat, combed back his hair, and turned slowly, praying he would be well received. He couldn’t think of the proper words, so he just stood there with his head bowed.
“Davin?” The bucket of milk the woman had in her hands dropped to the ground with a thump, causing white rivulets to form on the soil. She wore working clothes, a long leather apron, and tall black boots. But with her curly red hair tousling in the breeze, fair complexion, and soft blue eyes, she appeared more beautiful than Davin remembered.
Muriel put her hands to her mouth and started to cry. “I am so sorry. Look at what a mess I am. What are you doing here?”
“Muriel.” Davin said her name with a full expression of the joy and relief he was experiencing to his core. He had dreamed of this moment so many times when he had fallen asleep on the train and on those nights on the cold ground staring up at the stars. But this was beyond what could be imagined. It was a feeling of completeness, a profound affirmation that this wild vision of his destiny was one the two of them shared. “Do you know just how difficult it is to find a spy when she doesn’t want to be found?”
“Apparently not difficult enough.” Muriel grinned. “Besides, I did give you quite a clue.”
Davin reached into his pocket and pulled out the note she had left for him, which was now soiled and torn. “Let us see. ‘Whence again ye shall find the gold in your heart.’” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“What? I’m a doctor not a poet. It seems clear enough to me. Go back to the place where you found the gold the first time.”
“This is Monterey, not Sutterville.”
“I got you to California. Besides, I needed to be convinced the gentleman would make significant effort to prove his true affection to the lady.”
“It was a general who got me to California. H
e said you wouldn’t be welcome in the North or the South, which along with this note led me here. To this . . . rather large territory.”
Muriel put her hands on her waist. “There aren’t that many women doctors.”
“Which brings up another difficulty in my search.” He waved his arms around them.
“Oh, yes. Well, a woman doctor to animals. I suppose the gentleman has proved his merit.”
“What is this?” Davin asked with a smile.
“The Cliffs Veterinary. It appears the world is not ready for a female physician, but they seem willing to let me tend to their animals.”
“It’s all the same, no?”
“Not so, I am afraid. If you haven’t noticed, you have neither hoof, beak, nor tail.” She cupped her hand by her mouth as if to shield the conversation from those in the cages. “Don’t tell my patients, but I’ve had to all but start over in my education. Reading books and fortunately finding an old, dear, retired veterinarian who has nearly adopted me. I even call him Doctor Dad.”
She smiled sweetly and Davin held his hands out to hers, which she awkwardly clasped with moist palms. “Muriel. I am so . . . terribly sorry.”
She squeezed his hands and tilted her head. “For what?”
“I . . . betrayed you.”
“Betrayed me?”
“I reported you. After I left Seamus’s house, I was confused. And angry. And worried about my brother and his family.”
“Davin.” She shook her head.
“What?”
“The war ended, am I correct?”
“Well. Yes.”
“Then let’s not bring it here. Not today.” Muriel covered her eyes with her hand and looked into the sun. She turned with a whimsical grin. “There’s something I want to show you. Something I want to share with you.”
The mystery had never evaded this woman. Davin nodded.
“Good.” She started to unfasten the tie on her apron and walk toward the house. She pointed to a large bucket of water. “You seem a little road worn. Why don’t you use that?”
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