Antebellum BK 1 Page 11
“Hmm. Well, yes sir…”
“How would it be if I paid for the key?”
The clerk shook his head. “If I reported a key missing the entire lock mechanism would need to be changed. Hotel policy, you see.”
“Yes. I do see. Then how would it be if I paid rent on the room for another night?”
“I don’t think that will be of any use if…”
“If she hasn’t vacated before midnight you can evict her.” He began counting out twenty dollar gold pieces. “I should think that might be rather a pleasant task.”
The clerk was shaking his head. “The hotel’s liability…”
“Did I mention that she is quite rarely beautiful?” William caught the clerk’s wrist and before the alarmed man could pull free, William had pressed several gold coins into his palm. “Should the happy task of evicting our young lady fall upon you…” He looked furtively around the lobby, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She sleeps in the nude and likes it rough. Very rough. She’ll tell you that she must wait for me, but if you offer yourself as my substitute, you won’t be disappointed. Don’t take no for an answer. It’s only a game she likes to play.”
“I’m sure that we can accommodate you, sir.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
September 15, 1850
San Francisco, California
Jack came into the living room of the hotel suite and tossed his hat on the couch. “Clem? Are you home?”
“If you can call a hotel room home,” she said from the doorway of the bedroom.
Jack started toward her with his arms out but pulled up short. “Dear God. What happened to your face?”
“It isn’t as bad as it looks.”
He started to touch the bruise on her cheek but immediately thought better of it. “What happened?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
“What stairs?” He pointed toward the hall. “These stairs? The carpeted staircase to the lobby?”
“No, the back stairs. They’re steep and unpadded.”
“The service stairs?”
“Yes. At the back of the hotel.”
“Why were you using the service stairs?”
“It was just a silly impulse. A whim. I walked out of the suite, saw the stairs and took them.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“I don’t need a doctor, Jack. In a few days the bruises will be just a memory.”
He shook his head. “No, Clementine. I insist that you see a doctor. You might have a concussion or your skull may be fractured.”
“I don’t want to waste any of the too little time that we have together visiting a doctor.”
He touched her swollen lower lip gently with his index finger. “Does that hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. I’ve been dreaming of kissing your lips.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Do you think you’re up to what that might start?”
He pulled her against him. “How’s that for an answer?”
“Wonderful,” she said breathlessly.
~
“I have news,” Jack whispered into Clementine’s ear. He stroked her bare thigh and kissed her neck.
“You’re pregnant?” she said.
“What?” He drew back to look at Clementine’s face.
“It was a joke.”
“So you’re not – that.”
“Pregnant? No. I’m not. And it isn’t a dirty word.”
“For a moment there I thought…”
“What’s your news?” she asked.
“What?”
“You said that you had news.”
“Oh.” Jack shook his head as if to clear cobwebs. “Yes. Well, it seems that I’ve been appointed Military Governor of California.”
“That’s wonderful, Jack. Can we start looking for a house right away?”
“A house?”
“Surely Military Governor is a more stable position than a brigade commander so – do you think we could buy a house?” she begged.
“Yes, I suppose we could.”
“Can we start looking this weekend?”
“I’m sorry, Dearest, but I must be in San Diego this weekend.”
Clementine turned on her side with her back to him.
“Now don’t do that.”
“You just got here and now you’re off again.”
“Instead of buying a house, let’s build one.”
She rolled onto her back and looked at him. “Build? You mean with an architect and everything like rich people do?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Working with the architect and looking for a building site and furnishings would give you something to occupy your time when I’m away.”
She started to argue but then sat up. “Maybe.”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe you can find an architect who works nights.” She turned to look at him. “It’s the nights that trouble me. I can cope with you being gone in the daytime but the nights are a horror.”
He laughed. “Finding a building site at night might prove difficult.”
“Just let me pick the architect and I’ll work out his hours with him.”
“Very well. I’ll open a bank account for you.”
“Perfect.”
June 21, 1851
San Francisco, California
Clementine slid off her saddle to the ground and led her horse toward the nearly completed house. “Oh look. They put the windows in. See how they catch the sunset?” She turned to look up at the young man who was mounted on the other horse. “It’s beautiful, Kevin. Even more beautiful than your drawings.”
“Not as beautiful as you.” He dismounted, tied both horses to a tree, then took Clementine’s hand and led her onto the freshly painted front porch. “Will you look at that view?” He waved his hand at the broad panorama of San Francisco Bay with Oakland hovering in the distant mist. “Someday this will be the most valuable parcel of land in Northern California.”
“Tell that to Jack. He finds something new to complain about every time he comes up here.”
“What now?”
“Water. He says that we built above the city’s storage tanks.”
“He’s right. But people had wells before city water was available and your well produces sweet water.”
“Come now, Kevin. You must admit that having a pump in our kitchen and bathroom does seem a bit primitive for San Francisco in the year eighteen and fifty-one.”
“They’re only temporary. Once I have the steam engine installed you’ll have all the water you need, both hot and cold.”
“I wish we had some hot water right now. I’d love a bath.”
He put his arms around her. “I wish it was our kitchen and our bathroom.”
She pulled away from his embrace. “We’ve discussed that over and over again. I love you but I’ll never divorce Jack.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you really loved me.”
“I really love you, Kevin. But I love Jack more. I don’t know if I could live without him.”
“You love him but you fuck me.”
She slapped him across the face so hard that it staggered him. “Don’t you dare take that tone or use that filthy word with me.”
He put his hand to his face. “In a few weeks the house will be finished and I’ll never see you again.”
“Nonsense. The house being finished changes nothing. Except that instead of making love on a blanket spread over some uncomfortable, unfinished floor we’ll be making love in a nice, soft bed.”
“In your husband’s nice, soft bed.”
She looked toward the setting sun. “Can we stay up here tonight?”
“No,” he said petulantly. “There’s a roofing crew scheduled for the first thing in the morning.”
“If we get up very early they won’t know that we were here all night.”
He shrugged. “All right. But you know th
at everyone already suspects.”
“Everyone as in carpenters, stonemasons, plumbers and bricklayers?”
“Yes. People that I work with every day.”
“If they knew for a fact that we were sleeping together would it hurt or enhance your reputation?”
He chuckled. “Point well taken.”
“Let’s get a campfire started before it’s too dark to see.”
“You do that and I’ll unsaddle the horses.”
December 24, 1851
San Francisco, California
There was a Christmas tree in the living room and the house was decorated with mistletoe and boughs of holly. Every room was filled with revelers from San Francisco’s high society. Jack walked out onto the porch, closed the door and looked up at the stars above the Bay.
The door opened and closed behind him. “Merry Christmas, Colonel Van Buskirk. Do you want to see me?”
“No, Kevin, I don’t,” Jack said without turning around. “That’s why I asked you to step outside. I never want to see you again. If I do, I’ll spill your guts, fill your corpse with stones and sink it out there in the Bay where it’ll never be found.”
“Now wait. I’m not – that is, I haven’t – I mean…”
Jack turned toward the younger man. “Your life depends upon the decision you make in the next few seconds.”
Kevin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I understand.” He looked through the window at Clementine, then nodded. “Well, good night then.”
“I think you mean good bye.” Jack patted his pockets, found a broken cigar and a match.
Kevin hurried down the porch steps and vanished into the darkness.
“Here you are.” Clementine stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her. “I thought I saw Kevin out here with you.”
“I just sent him away and told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again.”
“You did what?” she gasped.
“You heard me.” The match flared and Clementine saw his eyes.
“You’ve lost your mind,” she said flatly.
“On the contrary. I’ve come to my senses. I know that you’ve been having an affair with Kevin. Don’t deny it.”
“An affair?” She rolled her eyes. “It was just a little meaningless flirtation, Jack. You were gone. Kevin and I were alone. Nothing really happened.”
“I didn’t ask for an explanation. I only wanted to inform you of what just transpired.”
She walked to the porch rail to stand beside him. “You wouldn’t really kill Kevin, would you?”
“Absolutely. If he doesn’t leave San Francisco tonight he’ll be dead before the new year.”
She looked up at him. “I think you’re telling the truth.”
“Somebody in this family has to.”
“I don’t deserve that.”
“I’m not in the mood to discuss what you deserve, Clem. Not now or ever. The subject is closed. Kevin will find a new life somewhere, or he’s a dead man.”
“Damn you, Jack,” she said angrily. “Kevin and I traded a few kisses in the moonlight. It was wrong, but it’s certainly no justification for murder. I really do think that you’ve lost your mind.”
He watched her face but didn’t answer.
“What happened between Kevin and me was never about you,” she continued in a more rational tone. “I got a little girlish and silly around a handsome young man. I teased him some, and I let him kiss me, but I never let him go any further. Never. I wouldn’t even let him feel my titties.”
“That’s comforting.” Jack turned away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you cold-hearted bastard.”
He turned back to face her. “Cold-hearted? You can’t blame your infidelity on me, Clementine.”
“Infidelity?” She shook her head. “Grow up, Jack. This is 1851.” She pointed toward the house. “Before the night’s over five or six of your high society guests will steal a kiss from me or pinch me on the bottom. Are you going to shoot them all?”
“What?” he stammered.
“You’re a New England prude and you’re making something that’s commonplace and innocent into a scandal.” She shook her head sadly. “If Kevin goes to the police you’ll be arrested and the Army career that you love, more than you love me, will be over.”
“I don’t… Arrested?”
“Of course.” She pointed a finger at him. “And when the police come, don’t expect me lie for you. I’ll tell them the truth; that I never had sex with Kevin. You can’t go around threatening to kill people. This isn’t the Army or Victorian England.” She stalked back into the house and slammed the door, leaving him out in the cold.
December 26, 1851
San Francisco, California
Kevin smelled of sweat, vomit and whisky. “I don’t care if he kills me, Clementine. I can’t live without you.” He pawed at her and tried to push his way into the house.
“No.” She shoved him out the door with both hands against his chest. “Get away from here. I never want to see you again.”
“How can you say that?” he wailed. “After all we meant to each other.”
“I lied to him,” Clementine shouted. She pushed Kevin back toward the porch steps. “I stood right here on this porch, looked my husband right in the eye and denied ever having sex with you. I lied. I lied so well that the poor, stupid son-of-a-bitch believed me and apologized for doubting me.”
“Really? So he’s not going to kill me? Then why can’t I come in?”
“Kevin. You’re not listening. You can’t come in because it’s over.”
“Why? It was good, wasn’t it? What we had?”
“Damn it, will you pay attention. If Jack comes home and finds you here he’ll know that I lied to him and he’ll kill us both.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. Let’s die together. I want to die. Are you ready to die with me, Clementine?” He tried to take her in his arms.
“No. No. You die.” She pushed him away. “You go die if you want to. Jump off the cliff. Go drown in the Bay. But don’t try to take me with you. I’m staying here and I’m going to fight to save my marriage.” She raised her knee to her chest and kicked Kevin in the stomach.
He stumbled backwards down the porch steps and landed flat on his back.
Clementine ran after him and kicked him in the thigh. “Get out of here. Go away. Kill yourself. I don’t care. I never want to see you again. Never.”
Kevin rolled onto his chest and then struggled onto his hands and knees.
“Go.” Clementine landed a vicious kick to his ribs. “Go. You worm. You coward. You weakling.” She kicked him again, then staggered back to the porch. “I’m going to get the shotgun. If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll splatter your guts all over this hill and claim you tried to rape me. Do you hear that? Do you hear me?”
She went inside, closed the door, sat down on the floor and wept. Later, when she looked outside, Kevin was gone.
March 20, 1852
New York, New York
Harriet Stowe and Anna Van Buskirk were huddled in the doorway of the Western Union office watching the book store across the street where Moby Dick was being replaced in the display window by Uncle Tom’s Cabin.
“The first printing is sold out,” Anna said.
“How can it be sold out if that store still has all those books?” Harriet asked.
“Your publisher sells books to book stores. When your publisher has no more books in his warehouse, you’re sold out until the publisher prints more.”
“What is it called when the book stores have no copies?”
“Failure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t matter, Harriet. Your book is going to be in bookstores for a long, long time.” She did a double take at the corner clock. “Lord. Look at the time. I must hurry or I’ll miss my boat. I can’t let Nancy go without me.”
“I wish I was going with you.”
&nb
sp; “Next time.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. I’ll send you a telegram when I do. Good luck with your book signing.”
“Thank you. Oh, Anna?”
“Yes?”
“Have you by chance read any of Louisa May Alcott’s short stories or poems?”
“The name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“When you’re next in Massachusetts you might wish to visit her. Her father’s name is Bronson Alcott. They live in Concord. Bronson Alcott in Concord, Massachusetts.”
Anna didn’t understand why Harriet had mentioned any of this and glanced at the clock again. “Thank you. The next time I’m in Concord I’ll try to call on her. But, I really must go now.”
“Yes. Of course you must. May God bless you and your – bible deliveries. And remember, Louisa May Alcott in Concord.”
Puzzled, Anna hurried on her way with her mind now focused on the impending trip to deliver supplies to the Free-Staters in the new territory.
April 1, 1852
Unorganized Territory of
The Louisiana Purchase
Earlier in the year, the House of Representatives passed a bill that would have created the Nebraska Territory from the open prairies west of Iowa and Missouri. The Senate tabled the bill, however, because most Southern Senators wanted Nebraska to be a slave state while most Northern Senators wanted it to be free and a few wanted it split into two states. Hoping to gain Southern support, Senator Stephen A. Douglas, Chairman of the Senate Committee on Territories, stipulated that the principles of the Compromise of 1850, which had no restrictions on slavery, might be applied in Nebraska. Although a revised bill that would split the territory into Kansas and Nebraska, permitting citizens to choose slave or free status, was not expected to pass immediately, maneuvering to gain voters in the prospective new states and immigration were already in full swing.
On March 20th, Anna and Nancy had accepted a consignment of crates from a man in Brooklyn who did not identify himself. Their only instructions were to deliver the “supplies” to a new free-state town in the Nebraska Territory that was being created by the New England Emigrant Aid Company. The following day they boarded a train in New Jersey that was bound for St. Louis, Missouri and arrived there a very uncomfortable three days later.