Читать книгу Bay City Belle - Shirley Kennedy - Страница 8

Chapter 2

The North Maine Woods, 1870

Yancy McLeish lived deep in the woods. If he had his choice, he would never get farther than a mile or two from the log cabin that nestled amidst tall firs, pines, and cedars, overlooking the blue waters of Moose Lake. What with hunting, fishing, and trading with the local Indians, he could pretty much never leave, but he liked his coffee in the morning, a habit he’d picked up in the army. He liked sugar to sweeten it with, plus a few odd items he couldn’t grow, shoot, or hook on a line, so much as he hated to, there were times when he had to make the five-mile trek to town.

And besides that, he had to pick up his mail. As he rode into Jackman, towing his pack mule behind him, he didn’t look forward to his visit to the Jackman General Store and, in particular, Mrs. Louella Pierce, store clerk, postmistress, and persistent busybody. He’d be polite, like he always was, but had to brace himself for that moment when he walked into the store and she’d loudly declare, “There he is! One of our brave boys in blue! You’ve got mail, Captain McLeish.”

For one thing, the mail she sounded so excited about never amounted to much, nothing more than an occasional letter from one of his old army buddies who knew where he was, or maybe a catalog or two. For another, he wasn’t “Captain” anymore, nor was he wearing blue. After his discharge from the Union Army, he couldn’t get out of his uniform fast enough, couldn’t burn it fast enough. And brave? Anyone who managed to live through the hell of those so-called “heroic battles” didn’t give a damn about brave. They were grateful they’d survived the slaughter and happy to still be alive.

Yancy reached the store, tied his horse to a hitching post, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

“Ah, there’s Captain McLeish! Our brave boy in blue.”

Good God. “Hello, Mrs. Pierce. Just came to stock up on a few things. Pick up my mail.”

The round little woman with sharp blue eyes looked like she was chomping at the bit to tell him something. “I’ve been waiting for you to come in. Wait till you see.” She trotted to the mail counter at the back of the store, ducked behind it, and came up with a letter. “Look! It arrived a week ago. I thought you’d never come in. Mercy me, it’s clear from San Francisco.”

His heart jumped, but he didn’t let it show. “Is that so?” He gave a mildly interested shrug and reached for the letter. Without giving it a second glance, he stuck it in the buckskin pouch hanging from his belt. “Thanks, Mrs. Pierce. I’ll read it when I get home. I’ll be needing some supplies. Coffee to begin with…”

He wasn’t being spiteful and took no pleasure from the look of disappointment on the postmistress’s face. How could he explain he did everything alone now and wasn’t about to share his personal life with anybody? He’d learned a lot of things from the war, but the main thing he’d learned was if he didn’t let himself get involved with anyone, then he wouldn’t get hurt. Besides, he liked the solitude and no one giving him advice, telling him what to do.

When he left, he slipped out quietly, grateful Mrs. Pierce was busy helping another customer. He packed up the mule and had mounted his horse when she followed him out, bursting through the door and down the steps like her life depended on it. “Wait up, Captain. I wanted to talk to you. Did you know we have dances at the church every Saturday night?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you really should come sometime. We’ve got girls galore who’d love to meet a handsome hero like you.”

He wasn’t a hero, and handsome? She had to be joking. Years ago, Mother used to embarrass him when she bragged about how tall, lean, and good looking he was, how all the girls were attracted to him. Four hard years in the army took care of that. Now he was more like tall and gaunt, and when he looked in a mirror, two war-weary eyes that had seen too much looked back at him. “I’m not much for dancing, Mrs. Pierce.”

She beamed, all rosy cheeked and friendly. “Well, you keep us in mind now. If ever you want to meet a pretty girl, you know where to look.”

“I’ll do that.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and rode away, leading the loaded pack mule behind him.

Only one person in the world could be writing him from San Francisco. He figured to wait till he got home to open the letter but hadn’t got a mile out of town before curiosity got the better of him. He reined in his horse, pulled the letter from the pouch, and examined it closely, front and back. Postmarked San Francisco. George Washington stamp in the corner. Fancy that. His brother had seen fit to spend three whole cents on him, and he couldn’t imagine why. He unfolded the letter. Of a heavy, quality parchment, it had a fancy gilt letterhead at the top. Good for old Ronald. He’d always wanted to be the biggest toad in the pond, and now it looked like he was.

Bank of the Golden Gate

From the Desk of the President

My Dear Brother,

Ever since you were discharged, I’ve been trying to find you. With the help of an agent from the Pinkerton Detective Agency, I finally tracked you down. I must confess, I was astounded when I learned of your present whereabouts. I’m aware of the many travails you went through during your time in the Union Army, but for the life of me I cannot imagine why you’ve taken to the woods. According to the agent, you’re living entirely alone with nothing but Indians and bears for company.

Did you know Mother has come to live with me? Lately she’s been ailing and longs to see you. She thinks, as do I, it’s high time you came out of the wilderness. My bank continues to prosper. Why not come to San Francisco and work for me? I have made a fortune and so could you.

Yours truly,

Your brother, Ronald J McLeish

At the sight of that signature, Yancy burst into laughter. I know who you are, Ronald. Just like him, though, a stickler for proper protocol, proper behavior, proper everything. When they were growing up, Ronnie was the good little boy, a parents’ joy, so well behaved he’d never been spanked. Whereas Yancy could still feel the sting of the birch rod on his backside, delivered by his fuming father. Why can’t you be more like your brother?

Yancy tucked the letter back in the pouch, flicked the reins, and touched his heels to the horse’s flanks. Father was gone now, but maybe, if he was looking down from heaven, he’d be thinking his unruly younger son turned out better than he figured. At least when the war started, he hadn’t hightailed it to California like Ronald did. At least he stood and fought for what he believed in. For four endless, agonizing years he’d stood and fought. Come to think of it, maybe Ronald was the smart one after all, getting himself rich in the Golden State while his brother dodged mini-balls, ate unspeakable grub, held dying comrades in his arms.

He hoped Mother was all right. She deserved the best, and if Ronald could give it to her, then fine. In fact, he wished his brother all the luck in the world. He wouldn’t be going to California, though. Not now, not ever. All he wanted was to live by himself in the wilderness, away from the world and all its suffering, until he died.

* * * *

Looking back, Belle couldn’t remember much about the excursion to the riverfront. She knew she’d done her best to act normal for the children’s sake but had gone around in kind of a daze, all numb inside, so shocked at Victoria’s words she could barely function. When they returned home, she pleaded a headache and retired to her room. That way, she wouldn’t have to go through a charade at dinner, pretending to be her usual cheerful self while hiding her anguish. Instead, she would visit Bridger. Only he could understand the terrible hurt that kept welling within her.

He frowned when he saw her. “You look awful. What happened?”

“Oh, Bridge…” She sank to the chair by his bed and related how she’d accidentally overheard Victoria and her devastating words. “Of course, I had no idea she felt that way. If I had known…” She swallowed the sob that rose in her throat and threw up her hands in despair. “I’m so hurt. She should have told me. What am I going to do?”

Bridger handed her a handkerchief. “First off, you can blow your nose.”

With the trace of a smile, she did as she was told. “Then what do I do?”

“What do you think?”

“Nothing, I suppose. Victoria needn’t know I overheard. I’ll go on as before, only I won’t be so involved with the children. But I love them so much....” For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut, on the verge of tears again. “I wish Mother were here.”

“Well, she’s not. If you want the truth, you’re better off without her.”

She stared at him amazed. “How could you say such a thing?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” He shoved himself up on the pillow, wincing as he did so. “She was a wonderful mother, best in the world, and I miss her more than you’ll ever know. But she ran your life, Belle. You never had to think for yourself. Mother had a rule for everything. All you had to do was follow along and you were fine.”

“Well, she’s gone now, and I’m thinking for myself.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still the little girl who follows Mama’s rules. Sorry. You should see the look on your face. It’s true, though. You still follow what she taught you. Be polite. Don’t hurt anyone’s feelings. Keep your opinions to yourself because you don’t want to offend anybody.” He tilted his head back and gave her a piercing gaze. “And always be aware of what other people think because that’s how you should live your life—according to what other people think about you.”

She stared at him wide eyed. “I’m absolutely mortified. Is that your opinion of me?”

“Yes. But you should also keep in mind that you’re my wonderful little sister, and I love you more than words can say. It’s just… I worry about you. You’re withering away here. You need a life of your own, but you’re too afraid ever to break away.”

“You mean I should be like Allegra? Answer that stupid ad?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve never been alone. The very thought of traveling across the country by myself is terrifying. I couldn’t do it.”

“Understandable. Far as I know, you’ve never been any place by yourself.”

“I suppose I haven’t. When I grew up, Nanny never let me out of her sight, rest her soul. Now I’ve got Weldon to drive me around. I couldn’t hitch up a horse if my life depended on it.”

“Spoiled rotten.”

“You’re right, I am.”

“But not entirely. When I look beyond all those ruffles and bows, I see a woman who’s made of sterner stuff.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. When the Yankees were here, and we were starving, you got out and hustled and found us something to eat.”

Her spirits rose. Nothing meant more to her than her cynical brother’s rare praise. “So you honestly think I could travel clear across the country by myself?”

“Why not? You know I’ve got money saved up. I’ll give you the return fare, so if you don’t like whoever you finally choose, then you can just come home.”

She couldn’t think what to answer, had to take a moment to absorb his startling offer. Up to now, Allegra—the Matrimonial News—the ad—had been nothing more than a trivial topic of conversation that provided a laugh or two. But now? “That’s awfully kind of you, Bridge. Honestly, I don’t think I’m up to actually doing it, but I’ll give it some thought.”

“Which means you won’t. Come on. You won’t be committing yourself if you at least write to the man.”

Victoria’s words kept echoing in her head: She’s stolen my children away from me. “I love my sister. Nothing she could say or do would ever change that.”

“Of course.”

“But then I keep thinking, how can I stay, knowing how she really feels?”

“Look at it this way. What have you got to lose?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Up to that moment, she hadn’t given a thought to actually becoming a mail-order bride. It had seemed such a totally outlandish idea. What would the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy say? She could only imagine the scorn and ridicule they’d heap upon her head if she did such a thing. On the other hand…

She hated to admit it, but Allegra was right. You can talk all you want about loyalty to our glorious dead, but that won’t warm my bed at night.

And it wouldn’t warm hers, either. “I’d need a copy of the Matrimonial News.”

“You can’t ask Allegra?”

“Are you joking? Certainly not.”

“Not a problem. I’ll ask Weldon to get you a copy.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

Bridger grinned. “Of course not.”

* * * *

Yancy peered into the near-empty bag of flour and frowned. Time for another trip to town, a prospect he disliked more than ever. Not only had Mrs. Pierce stepped up her relentless crusade to entice him to one of her church dances, the last time he went, another letter from Ronald awaited him. Mother wasn’t well, he wrote yet again. Really? Knowing his brother’s tendency to exaggerate, he didn’t believe it. Last time he saw her she was fine.

He’d go to town tomorrow. Today he’d go fishing, maybe catch a salmon from the lake or a brook trout from the stream that ran close by. How was the weather? He looked out the window and blinked with surprise. Here came two men, one behind the other, making their way up the wooded slope to the cabin. He recognized the man in the lead—Waneek, a Mohawk Indian who sometimes worked as a guide. Who was that behind him? Someone clumsy and awkward. Couldn’t be an Indian. He went outside and watched as the two figures drew closer. Oh, my God.

Red faced and winded, the president of the Bank of the Golden Gate came struggling up the hillside behind Waneek. Yancy could hardly believe his eyes, not until the two arrived, and his brother, Ronald, gasping for breath, grabbed his arms and hung on, as if he might collapse at any moment.

“Yancy! My God, you were hard to find. I hope you’ve got some brandy in there. It’s the least I deserve after all you’ve put me through.”

During the next few hours, Yancy had to curb his curiosity. After Ronald paid Waneek and sent him on his way, he declared he must lie down and take a nap after his ordeal. He didn’t wake up till evening, declaring himself ravenously hungry. Happy to oblige, Yancy cooked up a meal of salmon, rice, and corn. Not until they sat down to eat at the table in front of the large stone fireplace, did they have a conversation. Ronald looked well rested now. He took a bite of salmon and breathed a sigh of contentment. “I swear, that’s the best salmon I ever had. Must be pretty fresh.”

“Fresh enough. I caught it while you were taking your nap.” Yancy took a close look at his brother. “I can’t believe you came clear across the continent just to see me.”

“I did,” Ronald answered between bites of his salmon. “Don’t you know about the transcontinental railroad? These are modern times, Yancy. You’ve got to keep up. There’s a train now. It’s not like I came across the plains in a covered wagon.”

No, he hadn’t heard about the transcontinental railroad but didn’t care to say so. “Do you know it’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other?”

“I remember that last time well. It was the day you joined the Union Army, and I took off for California when I should have…” Ronald’s eyebrows raised inquiringly. “Do you hold it against me that I didn’t join? After what you went through, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Who am I to judge? You did what you had to do.”

Looking relieved, Ronald spoke again. With a wry smile, he inquired, “Haven’t changed a bit, have I?”

“You’ve packed on a few pounds.” And that wasn’t the half of it. Ronald was ten years older than he was, but people used to say they looked alike. Ever since they parted all those years ago, Yancy pictured his older brother as the tall, slender young man with the full head of hair he used to know. But he wasn’t the same, not anymore. Besides the big gut and double chin he’d acquired, his hair had thinned. Only a few strands made a fruitless effort to cover a good-sized bald spot. He didn’t look healthy, either. No man of only forty-two years should have been panting and struggling for breath like Ronald did when he came up the hill. “How have you been? Be honest. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Ronald met his questions with a burst of jovial laughter. “Fine. Feeling tip-top. You’d put on a little weight too if you lived in San Francisco. Best seafood in the world. I dine at the finest restaurants now, the Cliff House, the Tadich Grill, where all the millionaires go.” He fondly patted the considerable girth of his stomach. “One of these days I’ll get around to cutting back, but meantime I intend to enjoy myself. By the way, I’m married now.”

Yancy took note of the lack of enthusiasm in his brother’s voice. “That so? Tell me about her.”

“Well, let’s see now. Her name was Bernice Bolingbrook before I married her. Does the name sound familiar? If it doesn’t, it should. She’s the daughter of Edwin J. Bolingbrook, the railroad tycoon. Meeting her was the luckiest break I ever had. If it hadn’t been for her father, I could never have started my own bank.”

“That’s all well and good, but what is she like?”

“Uh…she’s on the flighty side. Pretty, though. Nice figure.”

Uh-oh. Ronald’s lukewarm description told him a lot. “Any children?”

His brother’s eyes lit with love and pride. “I have a little girl. Name’s Elizabeth, only we call her Beth for short. She’s five now. Pretty as a picture. My son, Richard, is eight and smart as a whip. We play chess together, and he’s beginning to beat me.” He chuckled. “Not that I mind. My children are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Glad to hear that.” Up to now, Yancy had tip-toed around the big question. He’d delayed it long enough. “So tell me, how is Mother doing?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Ronald put down his fork, reached for his glass of brandy, and downed a generous slug. “Mother is dying.”

He’d suspected what Ronald was going to say, but even so, the words hit like a wallop to his stomach. For a moment, he bent his head, pulling some much-needed air into his lungs. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been sickly for quite a while. Then recently the doctor found a tumor in her stomach. It’s getting worse, Yancy. She’s in a lot of pain now. The doctor’s giving her large doses of laudanum. She talks about you all the time.” Ronald got an accusatory look in his eye. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“I got them. Just didn’t think it could be anything serious.”

“Her only wish is she wants to see you before she goes. You always were her favorite, even though I was the good one and you were nothing but trouble. Am I asking too much?” Tears welled in Ronald’s eyes, a sight Yancy had never seen before. “We couldn’t have asked for a better mother, so here I am, come clear across the country to tell you so.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I know.” He rose from his chair, walked to the window, and looked to where the fading rays of the sun cast long shadows over the lake’s still waters. Some deer stood at the water’s edge. Only three, but sometimes there were more. They’d come for their evening drink like they did every night. Yancy never tired of watching them, one of the many pleasures of living in the wilderness. He closed his eyes and saw his mother’s face before him. “I remember all those times she stood up for me against Father, even when I least deserved it. She never gave up on me, though. When I was in the army, she used to send me things she’d made herself. I’ve still got the gloves she knit, and the…”

Damn, he was as bad as Ronald, getting all choked up.

He returned to the table and sat. “You’ve got to understand, I wouldn’t stay.”

“Anything you want. Of course, if you change your mind, you have a job waiting in my bank.”

“My home is here. I want nothing to do with San Francisco. I’d say my goodbyes to Mother and then return.”

“Absolutely.” Ronald’s face wreathed in a smile. “You might find our trip more enjoyable than you expect.” He patted his breast pocket. “We’ll be traveling in style, my dear brother. In here I’ve got two tickets on the Union Pacific train to California.”