Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  He was approached at once by the chargehand, a man in his forties, John guessed, a man whose hair was coated with fine white dust from the china clay. He regarded John from steady, though narrowed, eyes and waited for him to come within talking distance.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ He took in John’s good clothes, the set of his shoulders and the confident manner John knew he drew around himself like a cloak.

  ‘I’m looking for Daniel McCabe,’ John said. ‘I would like a word with him, perhaps you’ll tell him I’m here. John Pendennis is the name.’

  ‘English, is it?’ the man said easily. ‘Well you won’t find Mr McCabe here today. He’s at home with his family. I could fetch Mr Dundee for you,’ he volunteered. ‘He’s in charge.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ John said. ‘Where does Mr McCabe live?’

  The man hesitated, torn between politeness to a stranger and the wish to protect his boss from any intrusion.

  ‘You might as well tell me,’ John said reasonably. ‘I could learn as much from any man in the saloon bar.’

  Seeing the sense of this, the man nodded. ‘Right, you can find him in Rosemary Street, the big new house on the edge of the town.’

  John considered asking if he could look around but decided against it. The chargehand would simply refer him once more to Binnie Dundee.

  As he left the site of the pottery, the smell of the stone and clay washed over him bringing a sense of nostalgia and he realized that he was homesick for Cornwall. Well Cornwall was a long way away, far across the sea. In any case, there was nothing for him there, not yet at least. John would return, a successful businessman, and then Treherne could look out.

  Anger filled John as he retraced his steps back towards the town. He thought of how Treherne’s bailiffs had turned him out into the street when his father was so sick he was unable to stand. Treherne’s inhumanity had to be witnessed to be believed. But one day he would be punished for it and John would be on hand to see his downfall.

  John acknowledged to himself that he had lost respect for his father, had grown tired of his weaknesses, of his inability to run his affairs. His refusal to allow John to take over had been a constant source of aggravation between them but, still, his father should at least have been allowed to die in his own bed.

  Daniel McCabe’s house was rambling and yet charming. Flowers of a sort John could not identify grew around the windows and trailed onto the porch roof, bringing a splash of colour to the whitewashed building. Daniel McCabe was, obviously, a rich, successful man.

  Through the open door John could see the trappings of success; the fine polished floor was scattered with deep carpets. The furniture was highly polished and fashioned in good hard wood. A brass oil lamp with an ornate shade took pride of place on the table in the hall and an enormous oil painting took pride of place on the far wall.

  John knocked as loudly as he could and waited. From inside he could hear sounds of laughter and for a moment he wondered if his timing was inopportune; it seemed the McCabe family were having some sort of celebration.

  A maid greeted him, her skin was such a deep, warm brown that her teeth gleamed white as she smiled. Her hair sprung away from her head eluding the grasp of the white cap that seemed to be in danger of falling off at any moment.

  ‘I would like to see Mr McCabe, if it’s possible,’ John said politely and the maid gestured for him to step into the hall. She disappeared and John was able to have a good look at the room which was much larger than he had imagined. A curved staircase wound upwards and a cooling breeze drifted in through the large, open windows.

  A bluff, red-faced man with a full set of moustache and whiskers came into the hall and stared at John through piercing blue eyes.

  ‘Susie tells me there’s an Englishman to see me. Now how important can your business be, sir, to disturb me on the day when I am celebrating the christening of my third grandson?’

  ‘I’m John Pendennis and I apologize for calling without an appointment,’ John said. ‘But I will be returning to England in a little over a week so time is short.’

  ‘Sit down, then. I can spare a few minutes I suppose.’

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ John said. ‘I have come to Troy knowing there is a growing potting industry here in the region. I’m looking to set up in business myself and I wondered if the town could support two potteries.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Dan chuckled. ‘But there’s plenty of land hereabouts and you could surely try, sir, no-one can stop you doing that.’ He looked at John closely. ‘Mind, you are a well-set-up young man, a gentleman by the way you look and sound. Perhaps I could find a place for you myself.’

  ‘What sort of place?’ John was prepared to listen to any suggestion that would advance his prospects of becoming rich.

  ‘I have been thinking of opening another pottery myself, expanding shall we say? Now as I hear it you and your friend have had experience in the potting business. You’ve come here already owning a parcel of land over in Indian country. My advice to you is to forget that. It’s going to be too damned hard to fight off the folk who are there; the Indians who think the land is rightfully theirs. They don’t hold with buying and selling, they think the earth is there for all to share and in my opinion, they got a point.’ He shrugged. ‘So you might be better off working for me.’

  ‘You are well informed about my affairs,’ John said dryly. ‘And you seem to own more than a fair share of land yourself.’

  ‘Maybe I do but the land was going begging. I made Troy a town where folks can work and earn a decent wage. As for being informed, I make it my business to be,’ Dan said, smiling. John cursed Watt and his loose tongue; he had got drunk with one of the men working for McCabe and must have told him everything.

  ‘Well, you’ll know that I have no money of my own,’ John said. ‘I’ve been sent out here to reconnoitre the place, to learn the layout of the land that’s owned by my boss back home.’

  Dan looked at him shrewdly. ‘I like your honesty, son.’ His tone had warmed, John noticed. ‘Think it over, son, and then come to see me here in a day or two. Make it evening time and I’ll be sure to be here. We’ll talk again then.’ He rose to his feet, a big man in every sense of the word. He held out his hand and John took it, aware of the favour in Dan’s eyes.

  ‘You are a gentleman, anyone can see that,’ Dan said. ‘You have looks and brains, you could go far out here. America is the land of opportunity, remember that, son. Now, I must go and see my grandson. The maid will see you out.’

  As John retraced his steps along the streets where the more affluent lived towards the lower end of town where boarding houses and stores and bar rooms nestled side by side, he thought over what Dan McCabe had said. Would it be so bad to work here, to put down roots in a new place? Instead of working for Joe Mainwaring he would be working for an American who knew his way around, a man of property and a man well respected by the townsfolk for his integrity.

  America might well be a land where any man could become rich, and rich is what John wanted to be. McCabe’s offer could not be dismissed out of hand, it was well worth considering, but for now he would keep the offer to himself. Watt was a good honest lad but he was sometimes naive, giving away too much.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Watt was sitting outside on the steps of the porch of the boarding house when John returned home. He was looking brown and fit; he was a handsome man and would probably have more than his fair share of women running after him out here in America.

  ‘Just walking about, finding out the lay of the land. That’s what we are supposed to be doing, isn’t it?

  ‘I suppose so,’ Watt said as John sat down next to him. ‘Though I can’t see that we’ll have any luck round here. Mr McCabe and Binnie got it all sewn up. As for the parcel of land belonging to Joe, I don’t think it’s worth a light.’

  ‘I suppose we could hire a pair of horses and take a look further up the Hudson,’ John suggested. ‘We could take so
me food and camping stuff and at least have a look at the land.’

  ‘Yea, I expect we could but do you think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘Why, what are you afraid of?’ John smiled knowing the answer only too well.

  ‘I’m afraid of getting an arrow in my back,’ Watt said. ‘I hear some of these Indians can be a touch unfriendly.’

  ‘You’d be unfriendly too if someone was trying to take away what belonged to you.’ John was suddenly serious. ‘I know first hand how that feels and it’s not pleasant.’

  ‘Well then?’

  ‘Well then, let’s take a look, talk to the Indians, tell them we mean no harm.’

  ‘And I thought I was the daft one!’ Watt said. ‘You can’t talk to shadows; the Indians hide behind the rocks and attack without warning.’

  John digested this in silence and then nodded. ‘I expect you are right. Still, I think we should at least take a look beyond the boundaries of West Troy. We can hardly go back to Joe Mainwaring and tell him we saw nothing.’

  ‘That’s fair enough,’ Watt replied. ‘Shall we set out tomorrow then, ride a couple of miles up river?’

  ‘Let’s leave first thing.’ John was thinking of his proposed meeting with Dan McCabe. He would like to learn a bit more about the country before he committed himself to anything. ‘We’ll need to make an early start, we’ll need to ask around for horses and to find ourselves a guide.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Watt said leaning back against the wooden post and closing his eyes. ‘This sun makes me feel sleepy. I’m sure I could get used to living an idle life out here, just eating Mrs French’s food, drinking beer down at the saloon and sleeping.’

  ‘Well, you need money to do that,’ John said. ‘And you won’t get it by sitting around on your backside, that’s for sure.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that.’ Watt opened his eyes and there was a hint of anger in them. ‘From the time I could walk, almost, I worked at the pottery. I worked long hours too, sometimes not getting enough to eat. We haven’t all had the easy life you’ve had, mind.’

  John was silent. Watt was right, his life had been easy up until the time that Treherne had taken it all away from him. But he would rise to the top again, no-one would keep John Pendennis down for long.

  The next morning John was up early. He walked the streets trying to find a guide willing to ride with him. He quickly learned that no-one was prepared to take off up country without several days notice. It was clear that the trip would take more than a few days to plan.

  Still, unprepared as he was, it was with an unaccustomed sense of eagerness that John made his way, the next evening, to Dan McCabe’s gracious house. He had taken extra care with his appearance and knew he looked every inch the gentleman. It seemed that Americans were impressed with a well turned-out, well-spoken Englishman.

  Susie smiled a welcome, revealing her strong white teeth. John bowed to her and she looked down in confusion, stumbling as she led the way into the garden at the back of the house. Dan was not alone, a lady sat close by and alongside her were two young, beautiful women, dresses spread out around them like the petals of a flower.

  ‘This is my wife,’ Dan said, ‘and, Mrs McCabe, this is the English gentleman I was telling you about.’

  ‘Welcome to my humble home,’ Mrs McCabe said in a soft voice. ‘These are my girls, Josephine and Melia.’

  John was aware of how well set-up Binnie Dundee had become by marrying into the McCabe family and he saw now that he was being viewed as a potential suitor for one of the single daughters. He was quite taken by Melia who was bubbly and flirtatious and whose eyes met his with a provocative challenge, but marriage, he wasn’t ready for that yet.

  Susie brought a tray heavy with china. John resisted the urge to take it from the girl. He felt such an action would be frowned on.

  ‘Have a drink, John. It’s all right if we call you that, isn’t it, son?’ Dan did not wait for a reply. ‘We don’t stand on formality here, we all go by Christian names. It’s more friendly, I guess.’

  Melia was staring at him from under her lashes and John was aware of the perfume that seemed to rise from her skin. She was a lovely girl, slim but with curves in all the right places and she was obviously panting to get a man in her bed.

  John made a point of smiling at her and she dimpled charmingly and it was plain that she did not suffer from shyness. ‘Where you from in England, John?’ she asked moving a little closer to him.

  ‘A place called Cornwall, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.’

  ‘Well then you are wrong, John, Cornwall is right down south of the country and the coastline is rocky and sometimes the seas are treacherous.’

  John concealed a smile. Melia McCabe had been doing her homework. ‘You are quite right, of course. Brains as well as beauty, you are going to make someone an excellent wife.’

  He was playing her along, he knew it but she did not. She seemed to radiate the smug self-satisfaction of a job well done and if he had any doubts her triumphant glance towards her sister dispelled them.

  Mrs McCabe leaned towards him. ‘I know you and my husband want to talk business but I hope you will join us for a meal later?’

  ‘That’s very kind of you and yes, I would like that very much.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ Dan said, ‘these women will gossip to you all day. Let’s get out of here or we’ll get no business done at all.’

  They walked through the long garden at the back of the house and John was grateful for the shade of the trees as the heat that had persisted all day was lasting well into the evening.

  ‘I’m going to make you an offer, a very good offer,’ Dan said. ‘I want you to open up a new business for me over in Albany. You will be given a salary fitting for a man of responsibility and I’ll arrange for a house to be put at your disposal.’

  ‘And in return?’ John asked, his thoughts racing.

  ‘In return you will work your balls off just as if the business was your own. If ‘n when you build it up to a respectable level of profit, I would consider making you a partner.’ He changed tack suddenly. ‘You like Melia?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ John said. ‘She is a very lovely young lady.’

  ‘Rich too,’ Dan said laconically. ‘That always helps.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ John said. ‘Indeed I’m surprised that your daughters haven’t been snapped up already.’

  ‘No-one good enough round here,’ Dan said. ‘If any of the locals had any spunk then I’d give my girls away with a good heart but no-one matches up to Dan McCabe’s idea of a good man.’

  ‘But you know I’ve nothing to offer,’ John said, not really convinced that he wanted to accept Dan’s proposal. On the other hand he was not about to make any hasty decisions.

  ‘You have breeding, son. You have education. As for money, I have more than enough of it. You came from a good family back home?’

  ‘I did that,’ John affirmed. ‘My father owned a big house and a thriving business until he became too sick to continue with it.’ It was as close to the truth as John was prepared to come.

  ‘I’m a good judge of character,’ Dan said. ‘And in any case, Binnie, my son-in-law, knows a thing or two and he told me you must be a gentleman by the way you act and talk. In any case, I could see that much with my own two eyes.’ He smiled. ‘You would be on trial, of course, and I would send Binnie out from time to time to see how you’re doing. That boy has a good business head on him and he knows the working of the pottery inside out. I trust Binnie with my soul as well as my money.’

  ‘Give me a day or two to think about it,’ John said. Dan looked at him carefully and then nodded.

  ‘Cautious, I like that in a man. Come on then, let’s go and eat some of Mrs McCabe’s apple pie. You ain’t tasted nothing till you’ve tasted my wife’s cooking. A real lady is Mrs McCabe.’

  The meal was delicious and Mrs McCabe beamed when John accepted a second helping of her apple pie. ‘You sure ha
ve a fine appetite, John,’ she said. ‘I like that in a man, shows he’s healthy and sound.’

  Binnie Dundee was late joining the family meal. He looked across at John and nodded in a somewhat guarded way.

  ‘Watt told you how we grew up together?’ Binnie asked. There was a strange look in his eyes and John sensed there was more behind the question than at first appeared.

  ‘No, not really. Watt doesn’t talk about the past much at all.’ Was that relief he saw in Binnie’s face? John smiled. ‘I think he’s outgrown his childhood, he’s more interested now in being a man.’

  Binnie winked. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

  ‘Now, boys, careful what you say in front of the ladies,’ Dan said easily.

  Mrs McCabe rose to her feet. ‘Well, you can talk to your heart’s content, me and the girls have got work to do.’ Obediently, her daughters followed her but not before Melia had cast John one last, lingering glance.

  ‘Get the liquor, Binnie,’ Dan said expansively. ‘Let the men enjoy a real man’s drink.’ Binnie left the room to reappear a few minutes later with a jug and three mugs.

  ‘Good stuff this,’ Dan said pouring the drinks in generous measures. ‘I know because I make it myself. Go on, John, taste it and tell me you’ve tasted better.’

  John took a tentative sip at the drink, it was smooth in his mouth but as he swallowed it seemed as if a fire had been lit in his throat.

  ‘It’s good stuff, all right!’ He coughed and Binnie laughed at him.

  ‘After a few of these, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.’ Binnie topped up his mug; he was, it seemed, used to the potent drink. That was strange, Watt had claimed that his friend drank only cordial. But then perhaps Binnie had needed to keep his wits about him. Watt clearly knew something about the man, something that was supposed to remain a secret.

  The darkness was beginning to close in, shadowing the trees and the rich gardens in a mist. The men had been driven out onto the porch while the ladies saw to clearing away the debris of the meal. John sipped his drink slowly; he did not want to be witless, not now, because there was a great deal riding on his behaviour tonight. Could be his whole future.