Her nervousness about what may lurk behind finally gets the better of her. “Ha-ya!” she cries, yanking the reins. “Up! Get ’er up!” And Duncan does, heading down the road at a trot, rising to a full gallop as she flicks the reins side to side, steering them into the pasture. She loves the feel of the horse beneath her. He’s pushing himself. He’s dealing with the pain in his foot. He’s taking her out of harm’s way, into the safety of this home. Hooves beat thunder over the open field, echoing in tight as she passes a small stand of trees.
Reaching the side of the yard, she can feel Duncan limping more. She slows, patting his neck, a bit angry at herself for making him work so hard, but proud of him for doing it. They limp onward. Her face is dirty and her skirts wrinkled from time in the saddle.
Agnes Quincy hurries over to meet her, giving her a solid farm-woman hug.
“Goodness, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, dear!”
“I didn’t expect to be here,” she admits.
Agnes can sense that Amanda’s in trouble. The two whisper to each other as Duncan limps off toward the backyard, looking for clover, water, and shade. Once Agnes understands what’s happening, Amanda is taken in, like a stray kitten in need of a meal.
“We have soup on the stove, dear, and fresh bread. I don’t have any butter yet. That’s this afternoon’s chore. But …,” she looks toward her kitchen, “let’s see what else we can find.”
Famished, Amanda sucks down the soup, some leftover baked beans, and a wonderful yellowish bread that steams from its center as she breaks it open. It smells amazing and tastes like cornmeal mixed with some other grains—a typical end-of-the-week concoction that farm wives are so good at throwing together.
All through the meal Amanda apologizes for the urgency in her arrival. “I just … I didn’t know where else to turn. He’ll look for me at all of our friends’ houses. He doesn’t know you at all. So I thought … well … I’m sorry.”
“Nonsense!” Agnes pats her hand. “Now don’t you even mention it, dear. You’ve had a tough time these past few days, and we’re happy to help.”
Agnes gives a long sideways glance at her husband, who’s just risen from his nap. He wears brown workpants and the top to a set of gray long johns. Thick suspenders are off his shoulders and hanging to his knees. Amanda senses both love and worry in Agnes’ gaze.
When Amanda first met the couple, she’d thought that Elmer was rather pale and thin. Looking at him now, the word “gaunt” comes to mind instead. His skin looks bluish white. His breathing is shallow. As he notices Amanda looking, he smiles, fixes his suspenders, clears his throat, and whispers in a gravelly voice.
“Well then, what have we here? Hello again, young lady!”
“Hello Mr. Quincy,” she smiles.
“Young Amanda is paying us a visit, dear,” says Agnes. “But I fear it’s not for a good reason. She’s in a bit of trouble.”
“Is that so?” He dishes himself a painfully small cup of soup and grabs a tiny chunk of bread before he joins them at the green wooden table. “Well, we’re glad you came here. Glad we can help. You seem like a fine girl.” He dunks the bread and nibbles at it, looking first at his wife, and then at Amanda. “So what seems to be the trouble?”
Agnes quickly brings him up to speed on Amanda’s escape, and her decision to seek refuge with them instead of staying closer to home.
“She’s expressed an interest in possibly returning to Boston, Elmer. I’m sure we can help her get to a train or something.”
For the first time, Amanda looks closely at Elmer, and she has a suspicion why he looks so ill. It’s a look she’s seen before. It’s probably cancer. The old man has the identical look of a neighbor of hers who died from a bad cancer a few years before she left Boston.
At least everyone assumed it was cancer. Hushed whispers around the parlor during his wake raised suspicions but never quite confirmed it. Polite company never seemed to want to discuss the dreaded disease. Just saying the word seemed to carry some risk. A curse. A death sentence best left to whispers.
Amanda glances along the kitchen counter until her eyes come to rest on a dark brown bottle with a glass stopper. The stopper is barely pushed into the neck of the bottle, as if Elmer lacks the energy to press it harder. She immediately recognizes the container. It’s morphine. Swig as needed for pain and the doctor will always leave another bottle when he visits. It’s the only escape, short of death, that a cancer patient can find.
Amanda stammers, “I ... I’m interrupting. You’re not well. You don’t need me here complicating things. I should …”
“Nonsense child,” Agnes assures her. “This old farm doesn’t have enough visitors. If it wasn’t for the pastor who comes out once a week, and occasionally our neighbor Carl, why, I don’t think we’d see another soul from one month to the next.”
Amanda leans back, looking at both of them. “But you’re …,” she nods directly to Elmer, “I mean, I’m sure you barely have the energy to sit here with us right now.”
He leans forward, eyes locked on to hers, clearing his throat with the conviction of a politician about to make a speech.
“You’re very astute, young lady. I am not doing well at all. I’m sure you could tell that back when we were at the shore. I mostly sat in the wagon.” He lets out a low cough, then clears his throat. “But my wife also is correct when she says you are not intruding. I hope you will listen to her. Just having someone around, especially someone with your youth and energy, is enough to brighten up this room. Let me tell you, dear, we really need to have these rooms brightened a bit.”
“Well, yes. I could … I mean, I do want to stay. But … I should sleep in the barn,” she continues, “and be on my way in the morning.”
“You will certainly not sleep in the barn,” Agnes insists. “You’ll sleep in our spare room, and have breakfast with us in the morning. And you’ll stay as long as you like, you hear?”
With a slight tilt of her head, Amanda sits, considering. These are kind people. Kind to her on the road, kind on the way back from the beach, and kind to her now, – here in their home. It restores her faith in how nice people can be. And the love they show toward each other also shows her how a man can treat a woman, at least when he's a good man.
"I do thank you then. It's very gracious of you."
They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting near the fire, even though the day is far from cold. Agnes serves tea. It’s been years since Amanda has seen such a lovely teapot. It’s blue and white, with painted flowers on the side and a rim of bright gold. Agnes handles it expertly, her spotted hands pouring and lifting, with a slight bounce, at just the right moment. She doesn’t spill a drop. They can tell that Amanda is distressed by her situation, so Elmer starts to tell Amanda a meandering but strangely interesting story about his brother, a fellow veteran of the Union Army. The brother was wounded at Harpers Ferry.
“We all thought he was done. Apparently he was under a tree that was cut in two by a cannonball. A huge branch fell, landing on him and knocking him out. He also got pieces of the shattered cannonball in his shoulder. Dang thing split into pieces when it hit the tree. Rebels didn’t always have the best quality armaments. Anyway his fellow soldiers found him right quick and pulled the branch off him, but he was unconscious for days. I managed to get leave—I was in Virginia at the time—and went to see him. Said my good-byes, I did. Stood right at his bedside. Never expected to see him awake again.”
Elmer leans forward. “But I did see him. We all did. Here it is, more than twenty-five years later, and my brother is still around. Not the same as he once was, mind you. Limps like hell. Slurs his words now and then when he’s tired. But he’s alive and well. Wasn’t even married when he was wounded, but he met a nice girl and he went on to be the father of four and grandfather of one so far.”
He looks at Amanda. “Back twenty-five years ago I never dreamt that he’d outlive me. Not with all that damage he had. But he’
s still going strong and I’m winding down. A body never really knows what’s going to happen. Do they?”
She smiles slightly. “No sir. I guess they don’t.”
“Just like you didn’t know what you were getting into when you got married. Things just happen … things that are out of your control.”
She looks at him, then looks down at the floor.
“That’s all I really have to say about it. Things happen. You make your guesses about what life might bring you. You make your plans, but you never really know what you’re getting into. It’s half chance. You can’t feel bad about your choices when you guess wrong. At least you took a shot at it.” He smiles at her. “I know how women like to talk. Men too. But no matter what the women at your parish might say, you did what you could do, dear. It’s not your fault if things failed.”
They drink more of the tea, then Amanda helps Agnes clear the table.
“Will you be okay?” she asks the old woman when they’re alone. “I mean, after he’s gone?”
Agnes nods, but stares into the sink as she places a glass in a soapy metal pan. “Yes, I’ll be all right. Financially anyway. We received a bit of money from an uncle of Elmer’s a while back, so at least the farm is paid off. Got a little in the bank too.”
“Is that the same uncle who gave you that steam wagon?”
Agnes laughs. “That cursed thing? Yes. And I’ve always hated it. Scares me to death, going that fast, and all the noise and the sparks.” She shakes her head. “It isn’t much more than a toy for Elmer anyway. He only drives it on special occasions. I’ll be happy to never ride in it again.”
She scrubs a clear glass, holds it to the light, and then hands it to Amanda, who plunges it into a pot of hot rinse water. They repeat the process for each of the dishes, then use the dirty water to wash the sooty tops of the kerosene lamps.
They talk more about Elmer’s long-since deceased uncle. He owned some kind of machine shop and made a good bit of money during the war. He had no children of his own, so he spent his money on silly contraptions like that wagon. “He left a little something to all of his nieces and nephews when he died. Elmer got the wagon. I would have preferred a good plow horse.”
“Where did it come from?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s a lot older than you think. You probably know it’s not much like the new automobiles that you hear about. Elmer thinks it was built for use by the Union Army during the war. They hauled equipment by train, but the train tracks didn’t usually reach to the frontlines. The wagon was sort of a small locomotive built so that it didn’t need a track. It has basic steering, and they could swap out different kinds of wheels depending on the terrain. He doesn’t think it got much use during the war though. Turned out to be too temperamental.”
Amanda nods. “The day it carried us to the beach, Mr. Quincy said he’d made some repairs on it.”
“Oh yes, he’s tinkered with the foul thing a good long time. Even towed it to a blacksmith once. The silly tank had rusted out, but they patched it and cleaned it all out. Elmer worked for the railroad back in the seventies, so he knows a good bit about steam power and how it all works.”
Amanda collects the clean lamp chimneys and dries them, switching from a towel to the bottom of her apron when the towel becomes too wet.
“So, dear, enough about my future without Elmer. What will you do for the long term? Do you think you’ll leave him for good?”
“I don’t know. I have to leave for now anyway. I just need to figure out where to go.”
Agnes places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Well, it’s a hard decision, but not a bad one I’d say. Still, you know what will happen. A separated woman. Or divorced, if you manage to obtain a divorce. Well, the world won’t always look kindly on you, dear.”
“I know.” Amanda thinks for a moment. “I don’t even know how to get a divorce. I’ve never looked into it.”
“Well, I think the law will only give you one if you can prove adultery, long absence, or cruelty. Sounds to me like you might qualify for the later. But if he fights it, it can be pretty tough to prove.”
Amanda nods. “Not very fair, is it?”
“No dear. It’s not fair at all. But then, the laws weren’t written by women, were they?”
“I might be better off just disappearing. Going somewhere and starting over and not even worrying about what I’ve left behind here.”
Agnes pours out the dishwater and wipes her hands. She pulls off her apron and hangs it on a nail beside the sink. But she holds onto the material for a moment, studying the faded checkered pattern. “He gave me this. Ten years ago at least. Silly present, don’t you think? Not very romantic. But still.” She blinks several times.
“Do you have family in the area?”
“Yes,” Agnes nods. “And so does he. A few miles away. Believe me, that’s a godsend now that he’s sick. His sisters and nephews have been a real help around here.” She smiles at Amanda. “How about you, dear?”
“Family? No. No one on the Cape. Not anywhere around here really. My mother died two years ago. I have a brother who settled in Chicago. We’ve fallen out of touch. I might still have a cousin in Boston, but I don’t know how to make contact.” She can see the worry in Agnes’ eyes.
“Listen, I do have old friends in Boston. I just need to get there. I can take the train. Duncan is too lame to make the trip.”
“Now now, you can stay here if you need to, dear. Lord knows I could use the company.”
Amanda shakes her head. “No, you have your own problems right now. And I need to make myself scarce. I would like to come back and visit though. Sometime. Maybe in the fall.”
Agnes smiles. “I’d like that, very much.”
They return to the parlor to find Elmer asleep on the davenport. His wife covers him with her shawl, kissing his forehead. Amanda feels a pang of jealousy for what they share. Despite the looming end, she sees a kind and gentle love that she and Wayne were never able to build. But she would have shared such a love with him, if he had allowed it. Amanda so longed to build that trust and intimacy. But he was content with a few grunts of alleged intimacy, followed by sleep.
Ostensible lover by night and a stranger by day.
Before bed, Amanda leads Duncan into the barn. Finding an empty stall, she waters him, gives him fresh hay and carrots. She rubs some liniment on his leg and strokes his nose until her own legs grow tired.
That night she sleeps restlessly in the Quincys’ spare bedroom. Her path seems so uncertain. She lacks even the train fare for her escape trip to Boston. With some dread, she knows she must somehow get back to her house, to sneak in and retrieve some money and the silverware that she claimed on the beach. It’s risky, but it’s the only way she’ll survive.
She rises with the sun and finds Agnes and Elmer already awake. Elmer limps in the back door, brushing oats off his faded blue work jacket. It’s good to see him up and about, Amanda remarks.
“Good days and bad, my dear. You’ve seen me at my worst and now my best, such as it is.”
He jerks his thumb back toward the barn. “That horse of yours isn’t going anywhere.”
She nods.
“He’s got a lame leg. Front right.”
“I know.”
“It’s good and swollen. He needs to sit tight for a few days.”
“But I … need to get back to my house!”
Agnes’ eyes widen. “Whatever for, child?”
“I think you know. I need to get what’s mine. I need …,” her voice trails off.
“You need money. Things of value so that you can leave.”
She nods.
Agnes walks toward her. “Because they could be your ticket out?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you. But now I don’t know what to do if Duncan can’t make it at least that far.”
“It’s very dangerous for you to go back there, you know. You’re fool
ish to try. What if he catches you? What if he has you arrested?”
“I’m not worried. These days he goes into town to drink almost every afternoon. He mostly goes to Kelly’s or to The Orleans Inn.”
Elmer laughs. “Snow’s Folly? You know that place was built with cargo claimed from a wrecked schooner, don’t you? Wrecked right on the same beach where we met you, I believe.”
Amanda nods. “Yes, I know. Wayne told me the story.”
“Look, dear, if you decide to go home while he’s out, I’m definitely going with you.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Quincy. I couldn’t. I won’t put you in danger. I have to do this alone.”
“You’re right. You won’t put me in danger because we’re going to do it tomorrow, and we’re going to do it like this.” She starts to move things around on the table. “We’ll do it so that you don’t get caught.”
“Give me a rough idea of the layout of your farm and where it’s located.”
Agnes arranges glasses and salt shakers, mapping out a route back to the farm. After a few minutes of discussion, she offers some ideas.
“You see? If we hide here and wait for him to leave, then we can see all the way to here, and we could slip through here ….”
Amanda points and talks and moves the items around. Slowly, a raiding plan begins to take shape.
Chapter 15
The Mark
The first time Devlin Richards tries to follow Rudolf Baines he doesn’t have much luck. Baines stays with his group as they leave the pub. Devlin ends up walking with them for a time, making small talk and hoping that the group breaks up. That doesn’t happen. They stick together until Devlin realizes he risks wearing out his welcome.
The group returns the next night, again talking to sailors and gathering information about the wreck of the Gossamer. They also talk about the comings and goings of ships at the local piers.
Again Devlin follows the group as they head outside. When the men see him, their voices drop. He lingers several feet away, lighting a cigarette and pretending he’s having trouble with the match.
Wreck of the Gossamer Page 10