|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:37:23 GMT -8
Thanks to Pet and Apple who vacationed with me at the beach last year where we saw the Pink Hotel. Looking at the old fashioned wrought iron trimming around the outdoor café and the Victorian style décor of the rest of the hotel led us to imagine Artie and Jim in the lovely quiet setting. Thank you to Pet and PE for beta reading for me. Any errors still in there are mine, all mine. Sadly. ;D Hope you enjoy this story as much as I did writing it.
The Night of the Pink Hotel by Cris Hart
Marie exited the restaurant of the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel and stood at the edge of the walkway watching the waves crash onto the beach. This was a new hotel made of hand hewn pink brick with wrought iron decorative gates separating the outdoor dining area from the passersby. The rooms above the restaurant were designed so every guest had a view of the white expanse of beach and the deep blue ocean from a private balcony.
The fresh sea air, tasting lightly of salt, blew gently against her face but did little to cool her in the sultry August heat. Marie wished she had her bathing costume on instead of the mint green frock she’d chosen to wear for the early supper she’d enjoyed.
“A quick swim in the ocean would be so refreshing,” she thought as she watched the few people down by the water.
This was a new resort area. Not many enjoyed bathing in the ocean or sitting on the beach picnicking and talking under the blazing sun. Many still considered a woman’s bathing costume a scandalous display but not Marie. She liked to think of herself as a modern woman with progressive thoughts and ideas and bathing in the ocean or vacationing without a matronly chaperone or the idea of a woman running a business alone suited her to a t.
Her eyes were drawn to a tall, dark haired man pushing his way through the crashing surf to the shore. Water plastered his hair to his head and ran in rivulets over his shoulders and down the front of his bathing costume. The costume allowed her only a small view of his broad chest. He picked up a towel and scrubbed it over his head leaving his hair in an unruly curly mop then he donned a robe, slung the towel over his shoulder and walked toward Marie.
“Miss,” he nodded politely as he passed her, crossed the boardwalk and entered the pink hotel.
“Sir,” she replied taken with his handsome features and the movement of his body as he walked.
Marie sat on a bench facing the hotel, letting her eyes gaze up to the balconies. Perhaps the handsome man would come out onto one of them and she could see him again.
Marie was about to leave her bench to walk to a nearby shop when she drew in a breath as the man stepped onto the balcony. The bathing costume and robe were gone and his hair was wet but neatly combed. His chest was bared and two steps brought him to the rail of the balcony where he placed his large strong looking hands and leaned forward slightly. More of his body came into view as he did so, revealing a muscled torso.
“The balcony hides him from the waist down but what if he’s wearing nothing at all,” she wondered.
With all her thoughts of being progressive, she was about to avert her eyes at the very thought when the white edge of a towel secured around his waist flashed briefly above the edge of the balcony. Marie sighed partly in relief and partly because she did not think she would mind seeing him naked. She blushed slightly but let her eyes drift up his long arms to his broad chest then to his face and she blushed vividly.
The man was watching her, a small smile on his lips. He nodded to her and Marie shot up from her seat and hurried down the board walkway to her original destination. The heat in her cheeks was not from the sun.
Artie smiled as the attractive young woman flushed red when their eyes met. She practically jumped off the bench and hastened down the boardwalk. Artie leaned out a bit more and followed her shapely form until she turned into a nearby shop. He turned his face to the empty beach and closed his eyes to listen to the waves breaking on the shore. He reveled in the gentle sound of their retreat from the sand as the constant breeze caressed his face and lightly ruffled his hair. Totally relaxed, Artie went back into his room and dressed.
Marie left the shop with her bundled purchases in her arms. She’d spent more money than she’d planned but she dared not return to the hotel too quickly lest the object of her spying still be on his balcony.
“The balcony directly above my own,” she marveled with a gleam in her eye.
Marie was thinking about just how close he had been without her knowledge and she was not paying attention to where she was going. Inevitably she crashed into someone spilling her packages onto the boardwalk.
“My apologies,” a smooth baritone voice said. “Let me help you with those.”
Marie looked down at the man gathering up her bundles. Dark curly hair. He rose and faced her and Marie blushed yet again.
“Oh!” she exclaimed her voice sounding silly to her own ears, “It’s you!” she added thinking how stupid she surely sounded.
Artie nodded and smiled. “Artemus Gordon, Miss,” he introduced himself. His pause after the word ‘Miss’ suggested she add her own introduction but Marie was too flustered to notice.
“I’m so sorry,” Marie apologized nervously, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No harm done,” he answered politely. “May I escort you back to your hotel?” he asked.
“Thank you,” she replied reaching for a bundle slowly sliding off the top of the stack he held. “Let me take some of those.” She plucked the sliding package and one other from his arms and started toward the pink hotel.
“This is a lovely resort, don’t you think?” Artie asked conversationally.
“Yes it is. It’s very quiet and peaceful.” Why was she blushing? He only asked her a simple question.
“Have you been here long?” he asked.
“I arrived yesterday and you?” She tried to sound normal but her voice wavered just slightly. He was walking next to her close at her side and she could smell his cologne mixing with the scent of the salt air.
“I arrived late last night,” Artie answered stopping in front of the hotel. “Uh, miss? This is your hotel is it not?”
Marie had walked a few paces farther than the pink hotel but stopped at his question. She felt her cheeks blaze and she closed her eyes to compose herself a moment before turning.
“Yes it is, Mr. Gordon. How did you know?” she had to ask.
“I saw you this morning in the restaurant at breakfast and I made an assumption,” he smiled brightly at her.
Moments later, Marie fumbled with her key and the packages. “Oh for heavens sake,” she muttered turning and piling her packages on top of the ones Artie held to free her hands. She saw him slightly bobble the stack and hurried to unlock the door.
Opening the door, she turned up a lamp as evening had darkened the space. “Please put those on the bed…erm…the chair by the bed,” she stammered.
Artie laid the bundles on the chair and turned to face her. “I’d like to ask you to supper,” he ventured quietly.
“Oh! I…” Marie considered the folly of having a second supper just to be with him. “I’d like that very much,” she decided and answered.
“Shall I call in about an hour?” he asked looking pleased at her acceptance.
“That would be fine, Mr. Gordon,” Marie told him.
She closed the door behind him and began to get ready. She changed into a cream colored linen dress with brown piping, brushed her auburn hair and pinned it up in a twist. The humidity caused curled tendrils to slip from the pins and frame her heart shaped face. Marie tried again with the same result. Sighing, she gave up, resigned to having her hair an imperfect coif. The hour passed quickly and soon there came a knock at her door.
“Mr. Gordon,” Marie greeted him stepping into the hall and locking her door behind her. She looked at him approvingly. The burgundy color of his suit suited him well.
“You look lovely, Miss,” Artie told her.
Marie frowned, puzzled at his continued use of the formal title. “Why do you keep calling me Miss?” she inquired.
“You haven’t told me your name yet,” Artie smiled winningly at her.
“Oh my goodness, how rude of me,” Marie’s fingers rested briefly on her lips in surprise. “Marie Larchmont,” she stated and put her hand out to shake his.
Artie raised his eyebrows in amusement then took her small hand in his, turned it and lightly kissed it. “Miss Larchmont.” He gave her a gallant bow of his head.
They made light, friendly conversation during their seafood supper. Artie noticed that Marie did not eat much of hers, mostly pushing it around the plate. He did not comment but wondered if she had let him order for her out of politeness even though she did not like seafood.
He offered her his arm outside the restaurant and she hooked her arm through his. They strolled down the boardwalk, the air much cooler now that it was night. They continued their conversation and Artie found Marie to be independent, intelligent and well educated on many topics. She was beautiful and charming as well, a woman very much to his liking.
Marie found him fascinating. He did not speak of his work but that didn’t matter to her. She felt much more at ease with him than she had imagined she would as he guided the conversation to art and theater and politics easily. She was delighted to be able to contribute her thoughts and opinions on these topics and equally delighted that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He was rare among men and she found she liked him very much. The sound of the ocean was a backdrop to their comfortable silences.
“Let’s walk on the beach, by the water,” Marie suggested after one of those silences.
“We aren’t exactly dressed for a stroll through the sand,” Artie teased.
“Please, Mr. Gordon, I simply can’t resist the desire to dip my toes in the ocean,” she pleaded squeezing his arm in encouragement.
“Artemus,” he replied.
“Artemus,” she smiled up at him, “Indulge me.”
“I would be a cad if I denied you a simple walk along the water, Miss Larchmont,” Artie agreed and led her toward the sand.
“Marie, please,” she corrected.
Artie nodded and repeated her name, “Marie,” and they stepped onto the soft sugary sand.
“Wait,” she said pulling her arm from his and sitting on the edge of the boardwalk. She removed her shoes then boldly lifted her skirts and removed her stockings. “You’ll be more comfortable without your shoes and socks as well,” she smiled up at him. Rising she rolled her stockings and stuffed them into her shoes and hid them under the boardwalk.
Artie just blinked at her a moment. “What are you waiting for?” she asked sounding excited. Chuckling at her enthusiasm, Artie complied, stowing his boots by hers and rolling his pant legs up to his shins.
The water was cool on their feet as they walked up the deserted shore line. The hem of Marie’s frock was getting wet so she stopped and pulled the hem of the back of her skirt forward and up and tucked it into the waistband of her skirt baring her legs in her makeshift pantaloons.
“That’s better,” she announced hands on hips. “You could roll your cuffs a bit more and save that lovely suit,” she told Artie noting his cuffs had slipped down and were now quite wet.
Looking up at him she saw that he was staring at her and she blushed.
“There’s that pretty blush,” he teased causing her hands to fly to her cheeks. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:38:33 GMT -8
“Heavens no,” she replied remembering what had put the vivid color there earlier. “I’m truly sorry,” she said.
“For what?” Artie asked.
“For…having been staring at you while you were on the balcony earlier,” Marie admitted her cheeks burning.
“I didn’t mind,” he confessed taking her hand in his.
“I’m glad,” she said softly, “because I…” she broke off.
“You what?” he prompted devilishly deepening the crimson on her face.
“I enjoyed…the view,” she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. She expected to see reproach of some kind for her shameful actions and words but instead she saw understanding and acceptance of who she was for what she was.
“I…I’d like to kiss you, Artemus Gordon,” Marie announced and without waiting for his response she pulled him close and kissed him on the mouth.
He returned her kiss with equal fervor wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.
Artie broke the kiss and took a step back. He looked down at her beautiful face, “We should probably start back,” he told her.
He’d brushed aside her embarrassment and warmed her with his intelligence and kindness. Marie reached for his hand and allowed him to lead her back up the beach to where they’d hidden their shoes. As she buckled her shoes, she looked up at her handsome companion who was staring out at the ocean deep in thought.
“Artemus?” she called his name softly.
“Hmm?” he responded absently.
“Is something on your mind?” Marie prompted.
Artie turned a beaming smile at her. “Just thinking how quiet and beautiful the beach is at night,” he told her, “Much like you, lovely lady.” He extended his hand and pulled Marie to her feet.
“Flatterer,” she smiled back at him her cheeks just tinged pink.
Properly attired, though wet around the edges, Artie and Marie returned to the pink hotel. Upstairs, Artie took her key from her and unlocked the door to her room then returned the key to her.
“Good night, Marie, thank you for a most enjoyable evening,” he said holding her delicate hand in his as he returned the key.
“I enjoyed the evening immensely,” Marie answered, “Perhaps we can get together again while we are here.”
“I’ll make a point of it,” Artie smiled. He released her hand and turned down the hall hearing her door close softly behind him.
WWWWWWWWWW
James West approached the small Nanticoke village. A young boy of about 10 approached him warily eying him up and down.
“Chief Ah!whap-pawn-top?” Jim asked.
The boy laughed and corrected his pronunciation. “Come,” the child said and led Jim to the long house in the center of the village. He pulled aside the deerskin cover at the entrance and motioned Jim in.
Ducking his head, Jim entered the long house. A group of 12 men of varying ages sat around a low fire in the center of the room. It appeared the long house was being used for a council meeting and not as a sweat lodge.
An older man stood at the farthest point from where Jim stood and fixed him with an intent look.
“Uh, the boy outside said I could enter,” Jim explained, “I’m looking for Chief Ah!whap-pawn-top.”
He knew he’d mispronounced the Chief’s name again when all 12 men chuckled. The man standing held up his hand and the others silenced their mirth.
“I am Chief Ah!whap-pawn-top. Perhaps the translation of Soaring Eagle would be easier for your tongue,” the Chief said kindly.
“Thank you, Chief. My name is James West. I was sent by the government to help you with your problem,” Jim removed his hat as he spoke.
“Join us, Mr. West,” Chief Soaring Eagle gestured to an empty seat to his left. He sat and waited until Jim was settled before speaking again.
“We are what is left of the Nanticoke Tribe, Mr. West. Every year more of our people travel to the south to join the Powhatan or to the north and west to join the Munsee and the Iroquois tribes,” the Chief spoke in a serious and saddened tone. “The many treaties we have signed with the whites have been broken time and again. Our winter lands are inhabited more and more by white settlers. They clear our forests and kill or drive off our game and leave us to live on sparse and unprotected land. We barely survive the winters for lack of shelter and food. We await the warmer weather when we can return to the river lands only to find that we are no longer inhabitants of those lands. More white settlements grow with each passing year.” He paused and looked at his companions then at Jim. “All this has been told to the leaders of your states of Maryland and Delaware and to another man from your government, a Mr. Gordon, two days ago.”
“I’m aware of your meeting with Mr. Gordon. He has told me and our President what you have just said. He also said there was a new problem over and above these that needs immediate attention,” Jim replied, “Mr. Gordon mentioned that some of your opposing tribes have been equipped with guns and that alcohol has been traded with them as well.”
“It is true,” Chief Soaring Eagle agreed, “Many of our people have been tricked into the consumption of alcohol and many bad trades have been made because of it. We have lost land and goods because of it. And that is a problem we have tried to handle as best we can. But the supplying of our enemies, who are in alliance with the whites, with guns is something we cannot deal with on our own. It is for your government to find the ones who bring guns and alcohol to the tribal peoples illegally and stop them. We have seen the sailing vessels coming into the Cape at night and believe they are the source.”
“I believe you are correct, Chief,” Jim agreed, “Mr. Gordon has already traveled to Cape Henlopen to start the investigation. And the President has started working with the Governors of Maryland and Delaware to stop the encroachment on the land promised the Nanticoke people in past treaties,” Jim concluded. “Have any of your people seen any activity from the ships? Anyone unloading unusual cargo?” Jim asked.
“All of the sailing ships that come into the harbor unload cargo. To us it all looks the same,” Chief Soaring Eagle told him.
Chagrined, Jim tried another tack. “Chief, have any of your people seen anything different about any of the ships unloading cargo?”
The Chief smiled slightly. “Yes, Mr. West. Most of the cargo unloaded in the harbor is liquor. It arrives in barrels. Fruit arrives in shallow crates or loosely wrapped in mesh bags. But there is one ship that arrives always at night. It flies no flag and lights only the lights necessary to enter the harbor safely. The boxes it unloads are large and heavy and unmarked. The man that meets this ship to accept this cargo dresses all in black. He brings a string of wagons painted black and drawn by horses as black as night,” Soaring Eagle concluded.
“As though he is trying to hide in the dark of night,” Jim answered quietly. “Have your people ever seen the man’s face? Can they describe him?”
“He stays in the shadows, signing for the shipment then leaving. He is not a big man, short of stature. He moves quickly. That is all we can tell you about him.”
Chief Soaring Eagle rose, ending their meeting. Jim rose as well and extended his hand.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Chief Soaring Eagle,” the men shook hands, “I assure you we will settle the illegal arms trading. The information you have given me will be a great help to us in our investigation.”
Jim reached the Wanderer on a siding in Georgetown a few hours later. He found a message from Artie, in Orrin’s hand, waiting for him. Expecting an update from his partner on the investigation, Jim read the message quickly.
‘Boardwalk Grand Hotel room 305 <Stop> 303 in your name <Stop> See you soon <Full Stop>’
‘Well that’s informative,’ Jim thought sourly. He went to his quarters to pack for an extended stay then spoke to Orrin before leaving.
“When did Mr. Gordon send this wire, Orrin?” Jim asked his engineer.
“This afternoon, sir,” Orrin replied.
“And this is all he had to say? Just the name of the hotel where he’s staying?” Jim sounded frustrated.
Orrin regarded his boss a moment. “That’s all Mr. Gordon sent, boss,” Orrin gave Jim a small smile.
“Are you sure?” Jim asked.
Orrin cocked his head to one side, “Now, you know I would have written down anything else Mr. Gordon said, Mr. West. That’s all the man sent.”
Jim sighed. “I know, Orrin. I guess I was expecting something more. Usually Mr. Gordon has more to say even if there’s nothing more to say,” and he and the bigger man shared a laugh.
“We’ll stay in touch,” Jim told Orrin putting on his hat.
“You take care, Mr. West,” Orrin returned as he watched his boss leave his engine heading for the stable car.
WWWWWWWWWW
Pulling the row boat close to the low natural breakwater, Artie tossed a rope around a stick wedged between the rocks just above the waterline. Glancing around quickly, he climbed from the boat onto the rocks. He’d operated with no lamps and now again relied on the moonlight to pick his way to the top of the rocks. He felt goose flesh rise as a slight breeze passed over his exposed torso. Artie lay on the jagged rocks and peered over the top of the breakwater.
To his left, in the deeper water of the ocean, the Misty Queen lay anchored. The only lights she bore were two on the side facing the inlet at Herring Point. They were enough for Artie to see a line of skiffs being filled with crates from the Misty Queen. One by one the smaller vessels took on two crates and were rowed into the shallow inlet. To his right, the first of the skiffs reached shore and only then did the crewman in front light a blue globed lamp. Artie watched as this man jumped from his craft and began to pull the skiff onto the narrow sandy shore. His crewmate disembarked and the two off loaded their crates, returned to their skiff and rowed south, away from the inlet.
Artie lowered his head as the second boat passed him. He watched as one by one the skiffs beached, unloaded and rowed away. The Misty Queen pulled up anchor and one by one the running lamps were lit as she sailed north toward the harbor at Cape Henlopen. Artie shivered as another breeze drifted in from the open sea.
Half an hour later, Artie’s teeth were chattering and he was ready to turn away from watching the load of crates on the deserted beach. It had been pure luck that he’d spotted the ship with no running lights when he and Marie were about to return to the hotel. Artie had quickly seen her to her room and hurried back out onto the beach. He’d divested himself of his clothes and swum out to the end of the first jetty. Rounding the jetty, he’d seen a row boat tied off at the end of it and ‘borrowed’ it. The ocean was icy once the sun went down and he was grateful to get out of the water even if the sea breezes now made him shiver. Artie grimaced at the thought of returning the row boat and once again plunging into the cold Atlantic Ocean to return to his hotel room. As a full body shiver enveloped him, he heard the sounds of horse harnesses jingling. He looked to the stars and threw up a silent thanks before returning his attention to the shore.
A large darkly painted wagon stopped a short distance up the beach. A half dozen darkly clad men tramped down the sand and began to haul the crates up to the wagon. Artie saw the now familiar slight man standing aside and observing the operation.
He’d seen the same wagon and the small man in charge at the harbor taking on a load of unmarked crates. He’d hired on as a laborer his first night in and managed to get a look inside the crates. Each had been filled with party favors and he’d been disappointed and disgusted at the lack of information. They were looking for guns and ammunition not party favors. As the wagon and its burden slowly turned and moved off, Artie desperately wanted to follow. He even started to rise then looked down and changed his mind.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:39:47 GMT -8
‘I am NOT going to get caught out in my smalls,’ he shook his head at the thought then began to creep down the breakwater to the borrowed row boat. His foot slipped once and he cracked his elbow painfully against a rock just as he reached the boat. Artie rowed back to the jetty, tied off the row boat and dove into the ocean. He came up spluttering and shaking at the shock of the cold water then with strong long strokes swam to shore.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim rang the bell on the hotel desk. A man, who looked very much like the Nanticoke tribe he’d just left, came forward to greet him.
“May I help you sir?” the clerk asked.
“My name is James West. I have a reservation,” Jim replied. He could not decide if the clerk was an Indian or a light skinned black man.
“Yes, sir, Mr. West, we’ve been expecting you,” the clerk replied turning the guest book toward Jim then turning away to retrieve the room key as Jim signed in.
“Your key, sir. Room 303. Do you need help with your bags?” the clerk asked politely.
“No thank you, I can manage,” Jim answered still studying the man’s features.
He noticed this guest studying him closely. “Is there a problem sir?”
“I’m sorry,” Jim apologized, “I was just wondering if you were a local,” he said.
“Yes, sir, I’ve lived in this area all my life,” the clerk replied.
“Are you a Nanticoke?” Jim asked directly.
The clerk stood straighter. “Is that important?” he asked a bit defensively.
“No, not really. I was just curious,” Jim said calmly. He had not meant to offend. “What’s your name?”
“I go by George Fox, sir,” the Indian relaxed a bit. “At home I am Quick Fox. George suits me here.”
“I understand. Thank you, George. Can you tell me if Mr. Gordon is in?” Jim turned the conversation to another direction.
“Mr. Gordon is not in at the moment, sir. Would you like to leave word for him for when he returns?” George asked.
“No that won’t be necessary. Is the restaurant still open?” Jim asked.
“Yes, sir, but not for much longer. If you would like, I can take your things to your room while you go to the restaurant,” the clerk offered.
“Thank you, George, that’s very kind,” Jim smiled appreciatively. He handed the key back to George and watched a few seconds as the man started up the stairs then turned toward the restaurant.
When he finished an excellent seafood dinner, Jim went up to his room and settled his belongings. He tapped on Artie’s door but got no response. Jim decided to wait for his partner in his room and, knowing Artie would not mind, used his pick lock to enter. He went out onto the balcony and took in the fresh air and the view. The boardwalk below was lighted by the perennially open shops and bars and oversized gas lights that splashed light onto the soft white sand.
‘It’s really beautiful here,’ Jim thought then sat in the comfortable chair to wait for his partner. He leaned back into the cushion, ‘I may have to return for a vacation some time.’ It was not long before the sound of the waves eased him into slumber.
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie retrieved his clothes and ducked behind a dune, hidden from prying eyes. He quickly shucked out of his smalls and pulled on his trouser and shirt, buttoning up quickly for some warmth and protection from the ocean breeze. He pulled on his socks and boots, donned his jacket then wrung out the water from his drawers and stuffed them unceremoniously into his jacket pocket.
By the time he reached the boardwalk, the sand in his socks felt like it was scraping his feet raw and his trousers were uncomfortable as well. Artie couldn’t wait to get to his room and get out of his clothes, have a bath and a good sleep.
Artie paused briefly to arrange for the hotel to have his suit cleaned and pressed. The clerk assured him someone would come to collect the garments within the hour and use a pass key if Artie was not in. Artie made his way to his room and stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could, not bothering to light a lamp. He removed his robe from the hook on the back of the door, stuffed his socks into the pocket of his jacket then hung the suit and shirt on a hanger on the hook. He slid his arms into the robe and turned to get his toiletries. From the corner of his eye he saw movement on the balcony and reached for his side arm which was not there.
Artie remembered his gun was across the room in the nightstand and he knew he’d never get to it in time so he improvised. Making a gun with his hand he turned toward the balcony.
“Hold it right there,” he growled at the intruder. The figure ignored his warning and entered the room lighting the lamp on the table by the balcony door.
“Bang,” Jim teased seeing his partner’s makeshift ‘weapon’ and chuckled. “That wouldn’t do you much good if I was really an intruder, Artie.”
“Jim!” Artie breathed a sigh of relief and tied his robe tighter around himself. “What are you doing in here? You almost took a year of my life away,” he growled.
“Waiting for you. Have you found anything out yet?” Jim asked taking a seat in the chair by the desk.
Artie sat on the edge of the bed and told Jim about the crates of party favors and the second set of crates he’d seen unloaded from the Misty Queen.
“You didn’t mention any of that in your wire,” Jim informed his partner.
“It would have been a missive. I knew you were seeing Chief Soaring Eagle and would come here after you packed some things so I thought it could wait,” Artie replied running a hand through his still wet hair. He stood and retrieved his towel and toiletries.
“Where are you going now?” Jim asked.
“To take a bath, I’m wearing a layer of salt and sand and it’s uncomfortable,” Artie groused.
“I thought you were just coming back from a bath. Your hair is wet,” Jim stated the obvious.
“Tends to happen when I swim. Were you not listening when I said I swam to and from the row boat?” Artie chuckled.
“I listened…” Jim started then realized he apparently hadn’t listened very well. “I’ll wait for you to get back then we can plan our next move.”
“Wait for me in your room and we’ll plan over breakfast tomorrow. I intend to go to bed in a very short time,” Artie patted Jim on the shoulder picked up his room key and opened the door. “You can lock the door the same way you unlocked it,” he tossed over his shoulder as he exited.
“Artie, you know I can’t do that,” Jim called to his partner.
Artie stepped back into the room. “Then leave now,” he said holding the door open just wide enough for Jim to pass. He locked the door as soon as Jim crossed the threshold and proceeded down the hall to the bathroom.
WWWWWWWWWW
In an underground room, a man threw off his dark overcoat and tossed it across the back of a straight backed chair, the only furnishing in the room. He placed his equally dark hat on top of it and shivered with the damp, cold air that permeated the dimly lit room. He turned 360 degrees surveying the numerous crates that lined the walls of his storage space and smiled at the success he’d achieved so far.
“Mr. Drake,” a quiet voice called to him from the door that was hidden in the far wall.
Rubbing his hands for warmth, Drake turned toward his companion slightly miffed at having his moment disturbed.
“Yes, what is it, Mallory,” he responded in his raspy voice.
“Miss Angelina is here,” Hank Mallory answered never leaving the shadow of the doorway.
“So late?” Drake questioned with concern. He strode to the door and followed his employee into the narrow passageway. They followed it on its gradual upward grade to a warehouse above ground.
Mallory pushed open the trap door and climbed up the short ladder to the floor above, turned and helped Mr. Drake up before replacing the nearly seamless square of wood.
“She’s waiting in your office, sir,” Mallory told Drake who brushed past him to cross the room.
He snatched open the door at the other end and began to climb the stairs to the main floor of the warehouse.
“I’m chilled to the bone, Mallory. I’m sure Angelina is too. Bring coffee and lace it with brandy.” With that order, Drake hurried up the stairs and entered his office.
“Angelina. Why are you here? And so late, my dear, do you have news?” Drake asked as he entered his office.
The pretty young woman rose and turned to greet her father. “No news yet, father. I just wanted to see you,” she smiled a brilliant smile and hugged her parent. “How are you, father?”
“I’m cold, daughter, this Atlantic climate does not suit me,” Drake returned her embrace then perched on the edge of his desk. “You should not have come, Angelina,” he chided, “What if you were seen?”
“I wasn’t seen, father. And I know how you suffer from the damp and cold and I wanted to be sure you were taking care of yourself,” his daughter answered with a determined lift of her chin.
They both smiled, Drake thinking, ‘She truly is her father’s child. Stubborn determination in getting what she wants. I could not be more pleased if she were a man.’
Relaxing into the chair, Angelina asked seriously, “How are your plans going?”
“After the next shipment, we will be ready. I have negotiations set up with the Iroquois Chieftain in two days,” Drake explained.
The door to his office opened and Mallory entered with a tray laden with the coffee service. Silently he placed the tray on the desk next to his employer, nodded and turned to leave.
“Hank, you are making sure father eats and rests properly aren’t you?” Angelina asked her eyes focusing on the big man’s handsome features.
He held her gaze. “Yes, Miss,” he responded watching as her eyes sparkled at him. He graced her with a smile and their eyes spoke volumes to each other.
“Thank you, Hank, I knew I could rely on you,” and she lightly touched his forearm as he continued out of the room.
Drake rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “Angelina, my dear, you are not still infatuated with that lumbering oaf are you?” he asked in an exasperated tone.
“Father!” she exclaimed, “Hank is far from a lumbering oaf! You know you would not have accomplished so much if not for his help.”
“Yes, yes,” Drake waved a hand dismissively, “He’s very strong and been very helpful in moving the shipments for me.” He poured coffee for them both and handed a cup to his daughter.
“He’s done more than that and you know it, father!” Angelina accepted the cup sitting up straight in the chair, “If not for Hank you never would have known that that old Chief Soaring Eagle was meeting with a federal agent.” She waited for her parent’s reply.
“Yes, all right, that is true,” Drake admitted reluctantly, “Hank does have a certain brutish persuasion about him. And speaking of that meeting, dear, have you seen any sign of the federal agent as yet?”
Angelina drew in a deep breath. “Not yet, father. I’m looking and listening though. If he is in town, I will find him,” she answered determinedly.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:43:19 GMT -8
“And you know what to do when you find him?” Drake asked.
“Of course, father,” Angelina set aside her coffee cup and opened her reticule. She withdrew a small but deadly looking gun. “Pow,” she sneered softly, “in the heart.”
Father and daughter broke into gales of laughter.
WWWWWWWWWW
In the morning, Artie knocked on the door to the room next to his. Receiving no answer, he continued down the hall and down the stairs to the lobby and restaurant. Scanning both, he did not see his partner.
He walked to the registration desk and spoke to the desk clerk.
“Good morning,” Artie said and the clerk turned. It was not George who worked the daytime hours most of the time. “Is George off duty today?” he asked conversationally.
“Yes, sir, I’m Harold,” the man answered, “May I be of service?”
“I’m not sure,” Artie began, “My associate arrived last night and we were to meet this morning but I don’t see him around. Do you have a message for me from Mr. West by any chance?” he asked.
“Let me check, sir,” Harold turned to the mail slots but there was no message. “No, sir, no message. Did you try his room?”
“I knocked but didn’t get any answer,” Artie told him.
“Well, sir, if Mr. West arrived late, well, frankly the sea air does make one sleep soundly,” Harold smiled.
“It does indeed,” Artie agreed with a chuckle, “Thank you, I believe I’ll try his room again.” He nodded and took the stairs back up to the third floor.
Pausing in front of Jim’s door, Artie looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one, he used his lock pick and let himself into his partner’s room. The balcony door was open, the light subdued by the clouds overhead. Artie felt the cool breeze wafting in from the overcast scene outside, the only sound in the room the pounding of rough surf as it ebbed and flowed rhythmically. On the bed, Jim lay sprawled comfortably, still asleep.
Artie grinned and silently crossed to the bed. Leaning down so his face was close to Jim’s ear, he called softly, “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” and instantly found himself hurled over the bed and onto the floor on the opposite side landing with a crash on his back.
Jim came awake with a start, grabbing the figure looming over him and threw him across the room. He leapt from the bed and stood over the intruder on the floor.
“It’s me, Jim,” Artie cried raising a hand in defense.
Jim sighed loudly. “What were you trying to do?” he asked sounding slightly annoyed.
“Wake you up,” Artie answered accepting a hand from Jim to pull himself upright. “It’s nearly 7:00.”
“What?” Jim asked incredulous. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw his partner was telling the truth. “I’m sorry, Artie,” he apologized, “Are you okay?”
“Fine. A little bruised but fine,” Artie rubbed the small of his back as he spoke.
“I was really sleeping soundly,” Jim admitted as he began to gather his grooming supplies.
“The fresh ocean air will do that,” Artie answered tossing Jim his robe. “Shall I wait here or in the restaurant?”
“I won’t be long, why don’t you go on down,” Jim told him as they reached the door. “Did you pick the lock?” he suddenly asked suspicious.
“Tit for tat, buddy,” Artie just grinned and made a gun out of his hand.
“Touché,” Jim grinned back.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim entered the restaurant and spotted Artie at a table by the window. An auburn haired woman sat with him both sipping coffee and talking animatedly. As Jim approached, Artie rose as the woman did. She smiled sweetly at his friend then left the restaurant passing Jim on the way without a glance.
“Who was that?” Jim asked as he reached the table and took her vacated seat. He glanced over his shoulder at the comely figure as she stepped out onto the boardwalk.
“Marie Larchmont,” Artie told him, “I met her yesterday. Lovely woman.”
“Yes she is,” Jim agreed turning back to his friend.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Artie admonished, “Eyes off. I saw her first.”
“I’ll bet there’s a story there too,” Jim beamed at him.
“For another time, pal. Now, let’s get something to eat and get down to cases,” Artie agreed with an equal grin and motioned for the waitress.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim rapped on the harbor master’s door and was welcomed with a gruff, “Yeah!” in response. He went into the small shack that served as the office.
“You the harbor master?” Jim asked.
“What’s the sign say over the door, sonny?” the older sea salt of a man asked cantankerously.
Ignoring the remark, Jim produced his credentials and handed them over. “I’m James West and I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said accepting his identification back and pocketing it.
“What about?” the crusty old man demanded.
“Let’s start with your name so I don’t have to address you as ‘hey you’,” Jim retorted.
Squinting at Jim, the man backed off. “Captain Abner Stillwell,” he said simply. “What can I do for the Federal Government?”
“I’d like to see your ship’s manifests for the last two weeks, Captain Stillwell,” Jim asked politely.
“What for?” Stillwell asked.
“I’m in the middle of an investigation, sir, and need to see those manifests as a part of my inquiry,” Jim replied not revealing his intentions to the man.
“You got official orders of some kind? I can’t just hand them over to anyone, you know,” the Captain answered turning back to his work.
“I just showed you my identification, sir. If you’d like to check them out, use that telegraph you have over there, but I can assure you that my superiors won’t take kindly to your hindering my investigation,” Jim told him seriously.
“Hindering…” the old salt sputtered. He eyed Jim up and down and saw this man meant business and his non cooperation could mean trouble for himself. “Let me dig ‘em out for you,” he offered suddenly helpful.
“Thank you very much,” Jim smiled pleasantly and accepted the papers the Captain handed over.
Jim spent a good half hour or more looking over the manifests. The Misty Queen had more manifests than any other ship coming into the harbor. There was paperwork for her approximately every two to three days listing a variety of produce from ports to the south. It all looked in order but Jim knew, from what Artie had told him, that she was delivering more than produce.
“Who meets the shipments from the Misty Queen, Captain Stillwell?” Jim asked as he finished looking over the manifests.
“Well, there’s a Hank Mallory who comes regular like and sometimes his boss, Edgar Drake. Drake has a store that sells fresh produce down King’s Highway a piece. Near Herring Point. Some of the other locals are here on a regular basis too. Like Kurtis Mayhew, he owns the mercantile over in Georgetown. Louis Young, owns the general store on South Street, and the representative for Indian Affairs, Dominic Mitchell, he’s down King’s Highway near Indian Creek,” Captain Stillwell offered.
“Thank you,” Jim wrote down the locations and directions Captain Stillwell gave him.
With a jaunty salute, he left the harbor master’s office. Jim paused outside, looking over the information he had garnered. He determined his next visit should be to Kurtis Mayhew in Georgetown, the farthest away from the harbor.
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie dressed as a stevedore, in workman’s pants, a striped shirt stretched tight across his chest and a loose fitting short jacket over that. He pulled a watch cap down over his mussed hair. He applied a longish mustache as the finishing touch and exited the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel, unseen, from the rear entrance.
As he walked onto the docks, he tied the stevedore’s identification bracelet around his right wrist and hired on with a group of men unloading a ship. Artie listened to the men talking amongst themselves. No one had much to say to him as a newcomer and that suited him just fine. He picked up snippets of conversation about the money some men were making off loading a ship not in the harbor proper.
Artie made note of which men were talking about that and at the end of the day, tired and dirty, he made his way back to the pink hotel. Entering from the rear, he slipped up to his room and sank into the chair on the balcony. He heard a light knocking on his door and rose wearily.
“Who is it?” he called without opening the door.
“Jim,” came the soft reply and Artie opened the door to his partner.
“How’d it go today?” Artie asked, wincing a little as he sat in a chair by the desk.
“I got five names from the harbor master,” Jim started and recounted his meeting with Captain Stillwell and what he’d learned about the Misty Queen’s comings and goings.
“I’ve checked out everyone but Edgar Drake and his man Hank Mallory,” Jim concluded. “And I still have to talk to the Indian Agent, Dominic Mitchell. What about you? Did you have any luck?”
“Some. I’ve got my eye on a couple of men who seem to know about the unloading down the Cape. I’m hoping to make their acquaintance better tomorrow and get hired on,” Artie told him stripping off the mustache and tossing it onto the bed with the discarded watch cap.
“You look tired,” Jim commented.
“I am tired. I just spent 12 hours unloading all manner of cargo. All I want is to get clean and go to bed,” his partner grumped.
“No supper?” Jim teased.
“As long s it’s not fish. That harbor stank of fish and it’s still in my sinuses. Get out of here and let me freshen up, will you Jim? I’ll meet you downstairs,” Artie ushered his friend to the door and fairly pushed him into the hall.
“I’ll get us a table,” Jim grinned and left his partner to clean up.
WWWWWWWWWW
As they finished a light supper and were having a brandy, Jim looked up to see Marie Larchmont approaching. He stood as she reached their table and Artie followed suit then turned to see Marie.
“Marie,” he smiled brightly at her, “won’t you join us?”
“Artemus, it’s so nice to see you again. Thank you,” she replied as he held her chair for her.
“Marie, this is my associate, James West. Jim, Miss Marie Larchmont,” Artie made the introductions.
“Mr. West, a pleasure to meet you,” Marie smiled and offered her hand to Jim.
“Miss Larchmont,” Jim accepted her hand and felt her squeeze in a hand shake before he could be gallant.
Turning to Artie, she said, “Your associate? I thought you were on vacation.”
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:44:25 GMT -8
“It’s turned into a sort of working vacation, Marie. Jim and I are business associates and he’s joined me with some concerns in our many and varied dealings,” Artie explained glibly.
“I see,” she commented and turned back to Jim, “I hope you are going to leave Artemus with some free time. He promised we’d get together again while he was here,” she smiled prettily.
Jim shot a glance at his partner who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I’m sure Artie will have some free time for more pleasant pursuits,” he grinned at his friend’s obvious discomfort. “How did you two meet?”
“Jim,” Artie said in a low warning tone.
Marie blushed but pushed on. “Actually, I saw Artemus returning from a swim in the ocean and found him…quite pleasing to look at,” she answered sneaking a look at Artie. “After being caught blatantly watching him on his balcony, I went shopping and literally bumped into him again on the way back. He carried my parcels and asked me to dinner. We had a wonderful walk on the beach afterward,” she recounted.
“That sounds like fun, Miss Larchmont,” Jim answered, “Are you staying here at the hotel?”
“Yes I am. I’ll be vacationing here for another week.” Marie turned toward Artie. “I was hoping we could take another walk along the shore, maybe find someplace interesting to explore,” she smiled at him.
“I’d like that very much, Marie, but Jim and I have some business to conclude before that’s possible, I’m afraid,” Artie told her regretfully.
“I understand. Do you have any idea how long your business will take?” she asked.
“That’s hard to say,” Artie admitted, “but I promise you if we aren’t able to go exploring, we will at least enjoy another supper together. Agreed?”
“That would be lovely,” Marie smiled warmly at him. “Well, I’ll leave you gentlemen to your evening,” she said rising. The agents rose with her. “Mr. West,” she offered her hand to him again and shook his firmly then turned to Artie and planted a light kiss on his cheek, “Artemus,” she smiled then turned and left the restaurant.
“You’re right, Artie, she’s a lovely woman,” Jim following Marie’s progress up the stairs with an appreciative eye.
“Yes she is, and put your eyes back in their sockets,” Artie chided good-naturedly. They shared a laugh and finished their brandies while firming up plans for their next move.
WWWWWWWWWW
The following morning dawned overcast and drizzly with a definite chill to the morning air. Artie once again, set out for the harbor disguised as a stevedore. He joined the crew he’d worked with the day before and they hauled cargo for several hours before taking a break.
“Cold this morning,” a big man named Christopher Jessup said rubbing his hands together for warmth. “How can it be cold like this in August?”
Artie slipped a flask from his back pocket and uncorked it. He took a quick sip and offered it to Jessup. “I don’t know, but this’ll warm the blood,” he grinned.
Jessup looked around quickly to see if they were being watched before accepting the flask and taking a deep swallow of the liquor inside. “Ahh, that’s good,” he sighed contentedly handing the flask back. He watched as Artie turned the flask up to his lips again then popped the cork back in and pocketed it.
“What’d you say your name is?” Jessup asked.
“Jake Shepherd,” Artie answered leaning against a stack of crates.
“Chris Jessup,” Jessup offered his hand and Artie shook it. “You’re from down south, ain’t ya?”
Nodding, Artie replied, “That’s right, down around Norfolk.”
“That so? I’m from Newport News myself,” Jessup answered.
They spent the rest of their short break, sipping off the flask and trading histories. When the foreman called an end to the break, Jessup held Artie back a moment.
“I know the money’s not great around here, but I got a line on some extra cash if you’re interested,” he told Artie.
“Well now I’m always interested in a few extra dollars. What’s the job entail?” he asked his companion as they walked slowly back to the rest of the crew.
“I’ll talk to you about it at quitting time. I gotta check it out with the others first,” Jessup answered.
“Fine. Hope it’ll be a profitable conversation for us both,” Artie agreed.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim spent a good bit of time with Dominic Mitchell that day. He questioned the agent about the concerns Chief Soaring Eagle had raised. Mitchell was aware of the problem but to date had not been able to verify the claims.
“I can’t put a stop to something I don’t know really exists, Mr. West,” Mitchell replied defensively.
“I understand that, Mr. Mitchell. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t made any attempts to verify the Chief’s claims,” Jim said evenly.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever dealt with Indians before, Mr. West, but I personally have not found them to be the most cooperative of people. I try to provide the best food and goods possible, yet they aren’t at all grateful,” Mitchell sneered.
“Grateful? They don’t want a handout, Mr. Mitchell, they want their lands preserved for their tribes. They want to hunt and fish and grow crops and provide for themselves. And they don’t want their people tricked into drinking liquor and making drunken decisions that are detrimental to the whole tribe,” Jim grew more annoyed as the conversation went on. “Your job as the agent in charge of this area is to protect their rights and see to it that their land is not taken away from them by squatters.”
“Squatters! Mr. West, settlers are not squatters! Soaring Eagle’s people vacated the land and settlers moved in. That’s the way of progress,” Mitchell answered indignantly.
“They vacated their winter lands and moved to their summer land. They did NOT vacate permanently,” Jim argued back. “When they go back to their winter lands are you going to let ‘settlers’ move onto that land too?”
“Are you presuming to tell me my job, sir?” Mitchell cried.
“Well somebody obviously has to!” Jim shot back.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jim regained his composure. “Look, why don’t you go talk to Soaring Eagle yourself. Get to know the people you are supposed to be protecting. I’m working on the problem from a different angle and that’s why I’m here.” Mitchell crossed his arms across his chest and eyed Jim suspiciously.
“I have information that a ship, the Misty Queen, delivers fresh produce every two or three days,” Jim continued.
“That’s correct. They bring it up from the southern states and the islands farther south. I get fresh fruit and vegetables for the tribes from them,” Mitchell interjected.
“I also have information that they may be running guns and ammunition into the area as well,” Jim told the agent.
“I’ve never seen any sign of that sort of activity,” Mitchell answered. “Are you sure?”
“I will be in the next couple of days, but I’m almost positive that’s what’s going on. If they are, someone is taking delivery of those guns and ammunition and supplying at least some of them to neighboring tribes,” Jim said.
“Which would make Soaring Eagle’s claims true,” Mitchell answered thoughtfully.
“Exactly. What can you tell me about the other merchants or citizens that have dealings with the Misty Queen?” Jim asked relieved that the agent was finally seeing the light.
“Well, they’re just the local merchants and farmers. The merchants buy the goods the farmers try to sell their goods or trade them for what they need or want. Pretty basic stuff,” Mitchell commented.
“And you know these people? Do you know them to be of good character?” Jim asked.
“All but Edgar Drake and his man Mallory,” the agent responded. “Drake is new to the area. Has a fresh produce market down King’s Highway but he’s rarely there himself. In fact, he’s rarely seen around at all. Mostly just when the ship comes in to port,” he finished.
They sat in silent contemplation a few moments. Jim could not think of anything else he could learn from the agent and rose to leave. “You’ll talk to Soaring Eagle?” he asked putting on his hat.
“I will, Mr. West, and I’ll keep my eyes open around the docks when I’m next there,” Mitchell assured Jim.
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. If you come up with anything else, I’m staying at the Boardwalk Plaza. Contact me there,” Jim closed the door behind him.
Jim mounted his horse and turned north back toward Herring Point. He wanted to visit the fresh produce market and talk to Edgar Drake.
WWWWWWWWWW
“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?” the big man behind the counter asked.
“I understand Edgar Drake is the owner of this establishment,” Jim began.
“That’s correct, sir,” the man responded politely.
“Is he around?” Jim queried.
“No, sir. Mr. Drake seldom comes into the market. I’m his assistant, how can I be of service?” Hank answered. This was the Federal agent that had met with Chief Soaring Eagle. He had seen him leaving the village two days ago.
“You can tell me where to find Mr. Drake,” Jim suggested in a friendly tone. He had noticed the big man studying him and wondered what was on his mind.
“I’m sure I don’t know where Mr. Drake is right now, sir. What did you need to speak to him about?” Hank asked.
Jim saw someone move past the open doorway behind Hank. It was a woman with long dark hair but that was all Jim could see. “It’s a very important matter that needs to be discussed it with Mr. Drake personally,” Jim responded trying not to be obvious in his attempt to see around the big man. “Where does Mr. Drake live, perhaps I can catch him at home.”
“I can’t give you that information, sir, but if you’d like to give me your name and where you can be reached, I’ll pass the information on to Mr. Drake this evening,” Hank smiled pleasantly.
Jim considered a moment. “James West,” he finally answered and produced his credentials, “I’m staying at the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel,” he said pocketing his identification.
“I’ll be sure and pass on the information,” Hank smiled again. He picked up a bright red apple and tossed it to Jim as he turned to leave. “On the house,” he grinned.
Jim nodded and walked out polishing the apple in his hands. Outside he fed the apple to Blackjack before returning to town to speak with some of the locals. Someone must know where Drake lived.
WWWWWWWWWW
“That’s him,” Hank said as he watched Jim ride off.
“He doesn’t fit the description George gave me,” Angelina answered as she came to stand next to Hank.
Hank turned toward Angelina. “He’s the one I saw leaving the village,” he said.
“George said the Federal man was taller than this man and has black hair and brown eyes,” she responded. Her eyes squinted in anger, “If that good for nothing Indian is double crossing us, he is going to be very sorry!” she exclaimed stamping her foot.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:45:48 GMT -8
“He’s staying at the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel. That’s where George works and he said he checked the man in himself. He said he saw the agent go into his uncle’s lodge. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie,” Hank reasoned trying to calm Angelina.
It worked. Angelina softened and put her arms around Hank’s neck. “You’re probably right, Hank, but if George IS lying he’s going to be dead, just like Mr. West,” she said and kissed her beau. “Now I think I’ll go to the hotel and see if I can’t just take care of our little problem right away.”
“Be careful, Angelina,” Hank admonished, “when this is all over, I want you safe and whole and ready to marry me.”
She smiled and exited the store climbing into her buggy and heading up King’s Highway.
WWWWWWWWWW
It was 6:00 and the foreman called an end to the day. The last ship to arrive had been the Misty Queen and all her crates of vegetables and fruit were stacked. The men needed only to wait and see if any buyers needed help loading their purchases.
Artie sat on a barrel off to one side waiting to be called if necessary. He hoped not. Two 12 hour days of hauling cargo non stop was exhausting. As he mused, he watched a short man dressed in dark clothes instruct a large man. Several men with them began to load crates into a darkly painted wagon. Artie jumped up.
[i[‘You’re more tired than you thought, Artemus old boy,’[/i] he thought, ‘That’s the wagon and men from the other night!’
Artie took two steps toward the group of men hoping to overhear conversation but was stopped by Christopher Jessup.
“Hey Shepherd,” the younger man said.
He had to call Artie twice before Artie realized he was being spoken to.
“Hmm? Oh, Jessup, what is it?” Artie asked casting a glance in the direction of the darkly clad man. As Jessup began to speak, Artie saw the short man disappear around the back side of the wagon. He did not see him return before he gave his full attention to Jessup.
“I talked to the men and if you’re interested in that little job, you’re in,” Jessup told him.
“That’s fine,” Artie answered almost absently. “What time and where?” he asked.
“You have access to a row boat?” the younger man asked.
“Um…yeah,” Artie thought about the row boat from the other night and how he’d gotten to it. He glanced up at the overcast sky and dreaded another nighttime swim in the chilly ocean.
“What’s with you?” Jessup asked sternly, “You in on this or not? You got to be sharp if you are.”
“I’m sorry, yeah, I’m in. I’m just thinking about how to ‘borrow’ a row boat,” Artie chuckled.
“Okay, good. You know where Herring Point is?” Artie nodded. “Be there at 8:00 tonight. You’ll get paid when the job is done.”
“What IS the job?” Artie asked him.
“The Misty Queen’s got a little extra cargo for a buyer who prefers to remain anonymous. We off load it for him by the breakwater and he picks it up when we go,” Jessup explained.
“What’s the cargo?” Artie questioned.
“That’s none of our business. We just off load it and go on home a few dollars richer,” Jessup grinned and clapped Artie on the back. “See you at 8:00.”
“I’ll be there,” Artie assured him. He turned back to check on the wagon and its occupants as Jessup wandered off but it was gone. Cursing under his breath Artie headed away from the docks. He had a little over an hour to prepare for the nights activities.
‘First things first. Supper. Then I’m going to need a towel to bring with me…’ Artie began making a mental list as he walked to a restaurant not far from the pink hotel.
Several other dock workers were sitting at tables around the restaurant when Artie entered. He took a seat at a table by the window and ordered a bowl of crab chowder. As he waited for his order, he spotted Jim riding by and got up to step outside and signal him surreptitiously. He fumbled at lighting a cigar, tossing a broken Lucifer into the street close to Jim’s horse.
All it really took was Artie stepping out the door for Jim to see him but he grinned inwardly at his partner’s hurried attempt to flag him down. He swung around, tied his mount to the rail and entered the crowded restaurant. Artie was back at his table by the window a bowl of thick chowder in front of him.
“It’s crowded in here, mind if I join you?” Jim asked politely, looking around the restaurant.
“Makes no never mind to me,” Artie mumbled as he continued to eat.
“What’s going on?” Jim asked in a quiet voice, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
“Crab chowder’s better than most,” Artie said a little loudly and Jim looked up to see the waitress approaching.
Jim ordered and waited for the server to be out of ear shot. “So?” he asked.
“So, I’m going to meet up with the men off loading stray cargo at 8:00 tonight,” Artie answered between spoonfuls of soup. “I need a few things from my room. Think you can save me a trip and possible explanations?”
“Sure, just tell me what you need,” Jim answered. His chowder arrived and he began to spoon the savory thick soup as Artie listed the items he wanted.
Finished with his meal, he pulled out a few bills and laid them on the table. “There’s a dune on the beach just past the hotel. Meet me there in half an hour?” he asked his partner.
“Half an hour,” Jim repeated as Artie adjusted his watch cap and left.
WWWWWWWWWW
Angelina watched James West as he ate and talked to the stevedore in the restaurant. To the casual observer, they appeared to be strangers sharing a table. But to Angelina, they looked like they were in a deep and serious conversation.
‘So West has a partner,’ she mused, ‘That explains the difference in descriptions,’ she concluded. ‘I’d better warn Hank and father to be wary.’
She turned her buggy around and rode as quickly as she could to her father’s house.
WWWWWWWWWW
It was raining a hard cold rain when Jim came around the edge of the dune. It was a quick hand off of a small duffel bag and Artie began to strip down to his smalls. Jim grimaced.
“I don’t envy you this, Artie,” he told his partner sympathetically.
“I don’t envy me this either. But that’s the only row boat I know of that’s close enough to get me to Herring Point on time,” Artie shivered.
“I’ll be on the shore waiting for our friends when they arrive,” Jim said as Artie walked into the cold surf. Artie just waved a hand at him and began to swim with his duffel bag held up out of the water, toward the end of the jetty.
Jim went to the livery and saddled his horse fully intent on being on hand when the short man and his wagon and men came to retrieve the cargo on the beach. From Artie’s description, Jim suspected Hank was the man he’d seen at the docks. The short man dressed in dark clothes had to be Edgar Drake.
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie tossed his duffel into the row boat and quickly followed in. He opened it and pulled out the towel and laid it aside. Stripping off his wet drawers he quickly toweled dry and dressed in the dry clothes stowed in the bag.
“It’s too damn cold for this,” he grumbled pulling on his sweater, “And what’s with the downpour!” he shouted at the sky as the heavens opened and doused him in a drenching rain. “Now I have to row all the way to where the Misty Queen is waiting so I can haul more cargo,” he groused to himself as he took up the oars and started for the cove. “Sometimes I hate this job.”
By 8:00 Artie was pulling up to a boat where Christopher Jessup and two other men sat waiting.
“Shepherd, great, right on time,” Jessup greeted him. “This is Mike Wolf, he’s going to go with you. We need two men per boat,” Jessup explained.
“Fine,” Artie answered and steadied the boat as Wolf stepped over.
“Here we go,” Jessup said and rowed toward the Misty Queen as she stopped at the mouth of the cove.
As Artie had seen two nights ago, the boats lined up and each was given two large crates. One by one they rowed to shore and placed their haul on the shore. As Artie and Mike Wolf unloaded their crates, Artie looked around to see if he could spot Jim.
“Come on,” Wolf tugged at Artie’s sleeve, “Take me back to Chris so we can get paid.”
“Right,” Artie answered and rowed them over to the waiting row boat. Jessup helped Wolf back into his boat and then divided money amongst them. Artie counted $50.
“Not bad for a night’s work,” he commented, “I hope you’ll keep me in mind the next time.”
“This is the last load, I’m afraid, Shepherd,” Jessup told him. “But if anything else comes up, I’ll let you know. See ya tomorrow,” he finished and began to row away.
Artie rowed the opposite direction as the Misty Queen sailed away under the cover of night. He pulled up behind the breakwater and once again climbed up the rocks. This time, however, he made his way carefully to shore, creeping along the rim of the breakwater until he was close enough to the shore to jump clear of the water.
As he made his way along the edge of the tree line around the small beach, he kept his eyes and ears open for his partner. Artie heard the wagon approaching and quickly stepped into the sparsely wooded area.
The heavy wagon rounded the corner onto the narrow beach at a slow even plod and stopped in front of Jim’s hiding spot. It occurred to him that the time from when he first heard the wagon to its appearance was a short span. It must have been waiting nearby or come from a location not far away. Jim watched the men jump down from the back and head for the crates stacked farther down the beach.
Artie also noted how quickly the wagon had arrived. It was odd to him too that the heavy slow moving vehicle had reached the beach in such little time from when he’d first heard its approach. The men passed his position and Artie dared to pull the branches of the brush he hid behind down to take a look.
There by the wagon was the short darkly clad man and a woman. They moved to the front of the transport and were blocked from the agent’s sight by the wagon itself. Jim recognized the woman from the brief view he’d had of her in Drake’s store and he wondered what her involvement in this was. The first two crates were stacked into the back of the wagon and the four men jumped down to get their next load.
As Jim rose to dart to the wagon, he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder and he whirled and pulled his gun in one smooth movement.
“Don’t shoot. It’s me,” Artie hissed as he pulled his hand back and raised both placating.
Jim sighed and holstered his pistol. “Dangerous move, sneaking up on a man like that,” he whispered back.
“Good thing you don’t have a hair trigger,” Artie smiled briefly. “What were you planning?”
“I’m thinking there hideout can’t be too far off so I was going to hide in the wagon and ride back with them,” Jim explained. He glanced toward the vehicle and pulled his partner deeper into the cover of the bushes.
“You noticed how quickly they got here too then,” Artie stated. He paused speaking as the four workers strode past them again. “I was going to see what’s around the bend over there when I spotted you,” he finished.
“I’ll meet you at the end of the line,” Jim grinned and dashed across the open strip of beach between them and the wagon. He climbed in and hid himself behind the already loaded crates. With any luck he’d have no problem getting out while the crates were unloaded at their final destination. And if he did, he knew Artie would be on hand somewhere to help.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:46:43 GMT -8
Artie shook his head at his partner’s daring of the fates yet again then quietly moved through the trees in the direction the wagon had come from. He knew he had some time before all the crates were loaded and he hoped to find where they’d come from before they returned.
WWWWWWWWWW
The wagon creaked as the men loaded the crates. Angelina looked at her father’s pale face. He did not look well and she hoped his plans would succeed and quickly. Then they could return to the Carolina’s where the weather better suited her father’s health.
“You should not be out in this chilly, rainy night air, father,” she told her father as she adjusted his coat more snugly around him.
“It is the last time, Angelina. With this shipment of arms and my meeting already set up with the Iroquois, we’ll soon be back in the South working on the next phase of our plans,” he shrugged the coat more comfortably on his thin frame. Then he turned to face his daughter. “And YOU should have taken care of Mr. West, my dear,” he scolded.
“Yes, father,” Angelina cast her eyes down, chastised. Then she brightened and met his eyes. “But I did warn you that Mr. West had a partner,” she defended herself.
“Are you sure that man was a ‘partner’ and not just someone he was sharing a table with?” Drake asked harshly. “You didn’t hear their conversation, you never even entered the restaurant, by your own admission.”
“Father, I explained already. Why would West choose to eat in that seedy little dump when there is a perfectly fine restaurant at the hotel,” Angelina reiterated her story, “No, that man stepped onto the porch and lit a match which broke and he tossed into the street. West turned and went into the restaurant and they sat together. Their conversation looked casual but West leaned toward the other man occasionally when speaking.” She shook her head for emphasis. “No, father, I’m sure their meeting was not as casual as it was planned to appear. Besides, Hank is at the hotel now. He’ll take care of West and find out if he truly has a partner.”
Drake sighed. “I certainly hope so, Angelina. I will not tolerate any mistakes. I cannot. We need this Indian uprising to occupy the government’s attention while we gather our forces and retake the South and declare ourselves free of Union tyranny,” he expounded forcefully. It left him coughing violently.
“Now don’t excite yourself so, father. Please, let’s go sit in the wagon until the loading is complete,” Angelina urged and turned her father toward the front seat of the wagon and got up beside him when he had settled himself.
In the delivery wagon, Jim had heard their conversation and now knew what their plans were. Another madman trying to restart the war with a clever plan. He now knew this was the last shipment of arms and knew that there was a meeting set up with the Iroquois. He needed to know when that meeting was to take place and he needed to warn the Indian agent in that area of what was going on. He also needed to tell Washington what was going on and have them send reinforcements.
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie followed the wagon’s tracks around the bend away from the small beach. There, not far away stood an old mansion. There were a few lamps lit on the downstairs floor and he could see that the tracks led to an out building around the side of the house. It appeared to be a small carriage house.
Artie crept carefully toward the smaller structure watchful for guards but he saw none. He could see the side of the house now as he approached the carriage house and saw the outside doors to a cellar. Quickly changing his mind he went to the cellar doors and pulled one side open. Rough hewn steps led down into blackness.
Artie looked around quickly for a lamp then heard the sound of the horse’s traces jingling. Abandoning hope of a light source, he grimaced and stepped into the inkiness, closing the door above his head. Artie felt his way down the stairs to the bottom. He struck a match and keeping to the wall, inched his way around and away from the cellar doors. Though he could not see much, Artie could see that there were no crates stored in this cellar. There were walls lined with shelves and toward the center of the room a work table. He shook the match out as it began to singe his fingertips and squeezed in behind a tall cabinet to wait.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim felt the wagon come to a stop. He breathed shallowly. He felt like he’d been holding his breath with the workmen sitting on the crates around the back of the wagon with him. Pale light filtered in as the doors opened and the men began to unload the boxes. When the men had all moved away from the doors, Jim scrambled out and darted toward the small carriage house. He hoped his escape was hidden by the dark night and the wagon.
As he reached the corner of the carriage house he heard shouts behind him and the sound of running feet. He pulled on the door but it was locked. Hurrying around to the back of the building Jim looked for a way in or another place to hide. Unfortunately, two men appeared in front of him and when he turned to go back, another two men blocked his escape in that direction. The four thugs converged on him and Jim prepared himself.
He dispatched the first two easily. The man in front of him had underestimated Jim’s speed and found himself on his back having been kicked in the stomach. The man behind Jim was tossed through the air to land near his companion, struggling to breathe as the air was forced from his lungs upon landing.
The remaining two men were stealthier and coordinated their attack rushing in together. Fists flew and jaws were slammed. Jim was giving as good as he was taking. Just as he was about to finish off another attacker he was hit on the head with a heavy object and fell forward into the waiting arms of one of the recovered first pair.
WWWWWWWWWW
Angelina had just ushered her father into the house when they heard the shouts of alarm.
“I’ll see to it, father,” she said and hurried back outside. She saw a man just reaching the carriage house. West! How had he found them! Her father’s hired men were chasing him as she hurried across the yard drawing a key from her reticule.
Angelina unlocked the door and flew up the steps to the second floor. She threw open the window and looked down. Two men were on their backs and West was fighting the other two. And he was winning. They moved below her and she leaned out for a better look. The brick under her hand shifted and Angelina smiled.
Watching as the original pair rose and joined the melee, Angelina pushed the brick from the sill and smiled happily as it hit West on the head knocking him out. Satisfied she pulled the window closed and hurried downstairs.
“Put him in the cellar,” she ordered the men. “Make sure he’s secured, father will want to have some words with him.” She turned on her heel and headed back to the house. “And get those crates unloaded,” she called back to the workers as they dragged Jim down the stairs into the dark cellar.
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, a lantern was lit casting long shadows around the room. He peered out from his hiding place and wondered how he’d missed seeing the lantern himself. Not that he would have lit it at that time, it would have made it known that someone had entered their hideout. Two more lamps were lit then the other two workers came down the stairs struggling with what they carried.
Artie almost groaned aloud when he saw they were carrying his partner’s unconscious body. He settled for shaking his head and watching them tie Jim to a chair.
The first two men had gone back outside and by the time Jim was secured to the chair, they had returned with the first of the crates. One man pulled back the edge of the tattered carpet and opened a trap door in the floor. Artie could only watch as they brought in load after load and took it down into the secreted sub-cellar. When they finished, they left one lamp lit and trudged up the stairs and slammed the outside doors closed.
Artie quickly moved from his hiding spot and over to Jim. He pulled out his pocket knife and dispatched the ropes in no time.
“Jim,” he called softly as he worked. He got no response. Finished with the ropes, he took his partner’s face in his hands and noted the light bruising already rising on his jaw. “That didn’t knock you out,” he said softly and felt Jim’s head. Finding a large goose egg he rolled his eyes and nodded, “That did.”
Lightly slapping his partner’s face, Artie called his name softly until Jim began to stir.
“Welcome back,” Artie smiled.
“Oh, what hit me,” Jim moaned quietly.
“No idea, but it left you a knot the size of Kansas on your head,” Artie teased.
Jim felt his head, gingerly touching the sore lump. “Not quite that big, but close,” he teased back. Then he looked around. “Where are we?”
“In a cellar in Drake’s house and I suggest we get out of here pronto,” Artie helped Jim stand.
“We don’t know where he’s stored the arms,” Jim protested mildly.
“Yes we do,” Artie answered and took a step toward the trap door. He stopped when he heard a door open at the top of the staircase that led up to the main floors of the house.
“Come on,” he hissed and grabbed Jim by the elbow and propelled him to the stairs leading to the outside.
They made their escape with mere seconds to spare, disappearing into the night and the trees. Jim followed Artie back to the beach where they stopped to catch their breath.
“You have your horse somewhere, I presume?” Artie asked. Jim nodded, still a little befuddled from the blow to the head. “Can you make it?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. What about you?” Jim questioned his partner.
“I have to get that rowboat back or I’ll be a thief. I’m not looking forward to another swim in the ocean either,” Artie shook his head in dismay. “Get going. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim stabled his horse and entered the hotel. He started for the stairs when the desk clerk called to him.
“Mr. West?” George called moving to the end of the counter.
“Yes, George, what is it?” Jim asked wearily. His head was pounding and he was bone weary.
“I have to talk to you, sir, it’s important,” George said. “I’ll be off duty in 15 minutes. May I speak to you in private then?”
“Sure,” Jim agreed, “You know the room number.” Jim went up the stairs to his room and peeled out of his wet jacket and shirt. He poured some water into the basin and wet a cloth which he then pressed carefully to the lump on his head. Jim washed his face then pulled on his scarlet smoking jacket just as a light rap on the door sounded. It was George.
“Have a seat, George,” Jim offered him a chair and sank into the arm chair to hear what the clerk had to say.
Before George could start, Artie opened the door and came in. He saw the clerk and Jim facing each other.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked casually.
“No. George has something he wants to tell me, you’re just in time to hear it too,” Jim answered.
Artie closed the door and moved to stand next to Jim’s chair.
George blinked at the two of them. “Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, I have to confess something to you,” he began hesitantly. The agents exchanged a glance.
“Go on,” Jim urged.
“I…I…told Miss Drake who you are,” the clerk finally managed.
“What do you mean?” Jim asked sitting up straighter.
“She and that big friend of hers, Hank, threatened me and my family. I told them about Mr. Gordon meeting with my father, Chief Soaring Eagle,” George continued his face reddening. “I didn’t know about you, Mr. West, but Miss Angelina thought I meant you when I told her a Secret Service Agent was meeting with my father. It’s all so confused,” he held his head in his hands frustrated.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:47:59 GMT -8
“George, you told the two of them about me meeting with the Chief?” Artie asked and George nodded, “Then what makes you think they know about Mr. West?”
“Hank was here tonight looking for Mr. West. It seems he was the one who was known to be meeting with my father. Well, known except by me. Anyway, he was looking for Mr. West and I told him Mr. West was out.” He paused and looked up at Artie. “Then he saw Miss Larchmont and went over to her. They had words, angry words, and then he took her.”
“Took her?” the agents asked in unison.
“Well, she didn’t look like she wanted to go and he had her by the arm as they left,” George answered.
“Where did they go, do you know?” Artie asked but suspected he knew already.
“No, sir, I don’t know. I’m sorry for what I did. But they threatened to kill my wife and son. I had to tell them,” George pled his case.
Jim rose from the chair and patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, George. Just go about your business as usual and don’t tell them anything else. We’ll take care of this,” he reassured the man.
George rose and extended his hand to Jim. “Thank you, sir. And you too, Mr. Gordon,” and he shook Artie’s hand as well before leaving.
Jim sighed as the door closed and he locked it.
“This is a mess,” Artie growled disgusted.
“I know. What has Marie got to do with this?” Jim queried.
“How should I know?” Artie snapped back.
“Well you’ve been seeing her,” Jim retorted with equal fire.
“One date. We had dinner and a walk that’s all,” Artie replied heatedly.
They stood glaring at each other a moment then both shook their heads. Artie spoke first.
“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m just cold, wet and tired. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he apologized.
“I shouldn’t have questioned you like that, Artie. I’m sorry too,” Jim returned.
They both slumped into chairs exhausted and silent.
“How’s your head?” Artie finally asked.
“Feels like someone is using a pickaxe on my skull, trying to get out,” Jim answered honestly.
After another moment of silence, Jim said, “You said we know where they are keeping the arms. Where would that be exactly?”
“There’s a trap door in the floor of that cellar to a sub cellar. They took the crates down there so I presume the rest of the shipments are down there too,” Artie answered and leaned forward forearms on knees. He was frowning.
“What’s on your mind?” Jim asked.
“Marie. What DOES she have to do with this?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You don’t think she’s in on it?” Jim wanted to know his partner’s thoughts.
Artie shook his head. “I don’t think so. She didn’t give any indication she was up to anything,” he mused. “And George said she didn’t seem to go willingly with Hank,” he added.
“Well we know where the house is, we know the arms are being kept there, and we know Hank works for Drake. Seems logical that’s where he took Marie. All we don’t know is why. Or when the meeting with the Iroquois is,” Jim responded.
“What meeting with the Iroquois?” Artie asked puzzled.
Jim explained the conversation between Angelina and her father. By the time he finished, Artie was pacing the room.
“All right,” he said. “I agree with you. We have to find out when that meeting is taking place, we have to inform the agent in that area,” he began ticking off items, “and we have to inform Washington and get some reinforcements in here. I think we need troops sent north to the Iroquois territory and here as well and maybe south to the Carolinas if we can find out where Drake’s headquarters are down there. That’s a pretty long need list, Jim.”
“Yeah, and we need to find Marie,” Jim added.
“Of course,” Artie replied. “But I suspect we’ll find her at the Drake house.”
“So we’ll send messages in the morning and then head back to Drake’s,” Jim wrapped up the conversation. “Artie?”
“Yes Jim?”
“Could you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy,” Jim told his partner who stopped immediately. “Thanks.”
“Get some sleep, Jim, and if that head isn’t any better tomorrow, I’m going to find a doctor for you,” Artie told his friend. “No arguments.”
“Agreed,” Jim acquiesced. “Good night, Artie.”
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim said he was fine in the morning. His head hurt if he touched the lump that lingered but he had no pounding in his head and otherwise felt fine. During breakfast, they decided Jim would send their telegrams then go see Chief Soaring Eagle again. He wanted to see if the Nanticoke would be willing to help them if they needed assistance before their own troops could arrive. Artie would go back to the Drake house and snoop around. If he found Marie, he would get her to safety. If he did not, he would see if he could overhear any conversation as to her whereabouts and get into the sub cellar to see how well armed Drake actually was.
Artie did not bother with a disguise. Apparently it was common knowledge that he and Jim were investigating so what was the point? Besides, he did not plan on being seen or caught. He followed the directions Jim had given him riding steadily and deep in thought most of the way.
He came to the copse of trees where Jim had secreted Blackjack and he tied Mesa to a low branch. Jim had then proceeded to the beach but Artie turned east until the house came into view. He entered Edgar Drake’s home through the outside cellar doors as before and was surprised he encountered no guards.
Remembering where the lantern hung, Artie lit it and went directly to the trap door in the floor. When he reached the sub cellar he let out a low whistle. Crates of guns and ammunition were stacked all around the perimeter of the room. He checked several crates to be sure of the contents then went back up to the cellar level.
Artie crept quietly up the stairs to the main level of the house. He heard nothing so he carefully opened the door and peered around it. Down the corridor, a door closed then he heard raised voices. Making sure no one else was about, he made his way to the closed door at the end.
“Marie!” a woman’s voice shrieked. “What is SHE doing here, father?”
It was Angelina Drake and she knew Marie. Artie listened intently.
“I have every right to be here, Angelina,” Artie heard Marie retort. “What I’d like to know is what you and father are doing here?”
Father? Edgar Drake was Marie’s father? Artie was astounded and confused.
“Father and I have business to attend to in this area, Marie. YOU on the other hand, are nothing but a meddlesome little b…” Angelina shouted but her father’s voice cut her off.
“Angelina! Stop this instant!” Edgar Drake reprimanded.
“Father, she’ll ruin everything! Marie is nothing but a simpering do-gooder. Isn’t that why you sent her north when she was a child, so she could live with Aunt Betty? Tell me it wasn’t because, even at the age of 6, you didn’t recognize her weakness?” Angelina demanded.
“I will not explain myself to you, daughter. I had my reasons and that is all you need know,” Drake replied sternly.
“I’d like to know too, father. Why did you send me away?” Marie asked in a calm soft voice.
“When your mother died, Marie, certain things came to light that caused me to believe you would be better off raised by your mother’s family. They were northerners and I detested them but in the end it was in your best interest,” he answered.
“Oh please, father, tell her the truth!” Angelina shouted. “Tell her how you found out that her mother had an affair and Marie was not your child!” she exclaimed blurting out the hurtful truth.
“Angelina!” Drake sounded furious.
“Is that true? You aren’t my real father? And Angelina is not even my half sister?” Marie was astounded.
“Yes,” Drake answered simply. “For 6 years your mother hid the truth from me. I loved you like my own but on her death bed she told me the truth and I could not stand to look at you any more,” he admitted.
“So why have your gunsel bring me here then?” Marie demanded.
“I didn’t!” Edgar snapped. “That was his own doing. Seems he got it into his head that you were seeing one of those blasted agents and you could be used as leverage against them.”
“What agents? What are you talking about?” Marie asked confused.
“The Secret Service Agents trying to stop father from raising the South to glory,” Angelina interjected.
“Angelina, you will let me handle my affairs as I see fit,” Drake sniped. “There is too much to do before my meeting with the Iroquois tomorrow to have to deal with this situation,” he began to pace the room considering his options.
“Oh, bother. Tie her up in the cellar, father, and if there’s any truth to what Hank found out, Mr. Gordon will come to rescue her. Then we’ll be rid of him as well,” Angelina sneered.
“Artemus? A Secret Service Agent?” Marie sounded more confused than ever.
“So you do know him!” Angelina cried, “And you have been seeing him!”
“I…,” Marie began but Drake cut her off.
“Enough!” he whirled toward the two women. He glared at each of them. “Angelina, go get Hank. We will tie her up in the cellar and see if that Gordon fellow comes around,” the thin little man decided.
Artie hurried down the corridor and back into the cellar. He hid himself where he had the night before and soon heard Marie crying for help. He hated to hear her pleading to be released but knew she would be safe soon enough. He’d heard Drake’s meeting date, had seen how well armed he was, now all he needed was to get Marie out and get back to Jim.
Hank held Marie against the back of the chair and looped a length of rope around her.
“Let me go, you big oaf!” she screamed at the thug. Her next scream was cut off by a handkerchief stuffed into her mouth.
“Now that’ll hold you until your friend comes around. And he’ll be sorry he ever met you,” Hank snarled at her before returning upstairs.
Quickly Artie crossed the room. “Don’t’ make a sound, Marie,” he whispered in her ear as he bent to cut the ropes.
Marie turned her head and her eyes widened when she saw Artemus. She shook her head for him to remove the gag which he did.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “They want to kill you!”
“I heard, but we’re getting out of here. My horse is not far away and we’ll be back at the hotel before you know it,” Artie assured her finishing with the ropes. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Marie are you a part of all of this?” he asked seriously.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:49:03 GMT -8
“I don’t even know what ‘all of this’ is, Artemus,” Marie answered sincerely. “Why is father, I mean, Edgar Drake meeting with the Iroquois?”
Artie led her to the outside stairs. “I’ll explain later,” Artie answered and she heard the concern in his voice. “We have to hurry before the guards get into place,” he said stepping into the bright sunlight.
“Where’s your horse?” Marie asked as he closed the cellar doors.
“Just over there in a copse of scrub pines,” Artie answered. “Wait for me!” he hissed as she took off.
Marie moved to the tree line and turned to wait for him. She thought she heard a sound from in the wooded area and turned away to scan the trees.
“Are you really a Secret Service Agent?” she asked turning back toward the house. “Artemus?”
Artie was no where in sight. Marie looked left then right but saw no sign of him. He had simply vanished.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim had had a successful meeting with Soaring Eagle. The Chief had promised to send braves to Drake’s house and assist if necessary. They would report to George at the hotel if Drake left the house equipped to travel. Jim had made arrangements with George who was more than willing to help as a means of redeeming himself with the agents.
“By the way, George, have you seen Mr. Gordon return?” Jim asked.
“No, sir, not yet,” the desk clerk replied. “Is he overdue?”
“No, not really. Just hoping for some information,” Jim answered then sauntered out to the boardwalk restaurant for an early supper.
As he was having a brandy and a cigar, he heard a ruckus from in the lobby of the hotel. Stubbing out the cigar, he entered and saw a bedraggled Marie leaning against the counter and George trying to calm her.
“Marie,” Jim called to her. “Thank you, George,” he said to the clerk as he led Marie out to his table and sat her in a chair. He ordered a brandy and handed her his handkerchief. She was weeping and out of breath.
When the brandy arrived she sipped it then took a deep breath as the liquid seared down her throat.
“What’s happened, Marie?” Jim urged her to speak.
“My father’s thug, Hank, kidnapped me last night,” she began then shook her head, “Only it turns out he’s not my father.”
“You’re not making sense, Marie. Slow down,” Jim coaxed.
The pretty brunette took another deep breath. “I always believed Edgar Drake to be my father but he’s not. That’s a story for another time. Mr. West, he tied me in the cellar and Artemus set me free,” she told him tears welling in her eyes.
“That was the plan, Marie. Where’s Artie now?” Jim asked with a small smile for her.
“I don’t know,” Marie sobbed and buried her face in the handkerchief.
“You said he set you free, what happened after that?” Jim asked with growing concern.
Marie shook her head and wiped her eyes regaining her composure. “Mr. West, I just don’t know.”
“Call me Jim, “Jim interjected, “Just tell me where you went after Artie set you free.”
“Jim,” Marie acknowledged, “He told me where his horse was and I started off in that direction. He asked me to wait so I turned back to look for him. I heard a noise behind me but there was nothing. When I looked back, Artemus was gone,” Marie explained in a rush.
“Gone?” Jim needed some clarification, “He went another direction?”
“No, I didn’t see him anywhere. I looked around for a bit but I couldn’t find him. Then the guards came and I ran. I found his horse and rode her back here. It took forever. I didn’t know the way,” Marie was starting to weep again. She was frightened, cold and tired. Her strength had dissolved under the circumstances.
“All right, calm down,” Jim tried to soothe her. “The guards didn’t get him?”
“No, they were searching for us both. I heard them talking. And Angelina was screaming epithets and threats of revenge against him so I know Artemus wasn’t with them,” she told him.
“This is not good,” Jim muttered to himself.
“Jim, Edgar Drake is meeting with the Iroquois tomorrow. Artemus seemed concerned about that,” she told him.
“Tomorrow?” Jim asked incredulous. This was getting worse by the minute. “Wait here,” he instructed then went to talk to George.
Jim asked if there were any messages for him but there was no response yet from Washington. He sent the desk clerk to his father to tell him the news and see if his braves were in position at the house. If they were, he asked if they could keep an eye out for Mr. Gordon as well. George left immediately.
“Marie, I want you to go to your room and stay there. Lock the door and don’t let anyone in but me or Artemus,” Jim told her sternly.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded.
“I’m going to go try to stop Drake from leaving and find my partner,” he answered.
“I’m going with you,” Marie stated in a no argument voice.
“No you’re not,” Jim replied.
“Yes I am. Those people were supposed to be my family and they’ve never been anything but foul and evil to me since I was 6. I care for Artemus too and I’m going with you,” she stated firmly.
“I don’t have time for this,” Jim protested but Marie raised her chin daring him to deny her. “Fine.” Jim took her by the wrist and practically dragged her along with him to the stable. Mesa was too hot to be taken out again so he arranged for her to have another horse then he saddled Blackjack and they rode off.
Jim’s first stop was the telegraph office. He found a message waiting for him that troops were on the way to the Iroquois territory and would meet with the Indian agent in the area by evening. They had discovered where Drake was headquartered in South Carolina and troops had been dispatched to seize his property there. Jim nodded satisfied.
“Now all I have to do is stop a madman and find a missing partner while protecting a stubborn woman,” Jim grumbled as he swung up into the saddle.
“I beg your pardon?” Marie asked.
“Never mind,” Jim shook his head, “Let’s go.”
WWWWWWWWWW
Artie felt the earth open beneath his feet and found himself falling into darkness. Above him he heard the slamming of the cover on the shaft he was in. Though he could not see it, a tree root sticking out tore through the sleeve of his jacket and shirt and opened a gash on his arm. Artie put his hands up trying to grab onto something to slow his fall as well as trying to protect his face from any other protrusions.
He felt the shaft open into empty space. A second later his feet hit and slid out from under him. His elbow slammed into the stone floor as he landed unceremoniously on his backside. Artie got up gingerly, testing his limbs for further injuries. Besides his elbow aching, he felt his knee twinge when he put weight on his right leg. He struck a match, lit a candle stub he drew from his pocket and surveyed his surroundings. Artie stood at the bottom of the shaft and looked up. He estimated he had fallen 30 feet and counted himself lucky to have come away with a gash on his arm, a twisted knee and a banged elbow. The candle was not enough to light the shaft more than a foot as he held it high but it was enough to show him the tree roots jutting from the sides of the shaft. The shaft leading up was narrow about 3 feet wide and ended about 4 feet above him. His immediate area was a round pit approximately 5 feet wide from wall to wall.
“It’s an oubliette,” Artie mused aloud.
Suddenly the entrance swung open and he could make out Drake and Angelina’s faces peering down at him.
“Mr. Gordon, I presume?” Drake called down to him.
“You have the advantage, sir, but if I may hazard a guess…Edgar Drake?” Artie posed shielding his eyes from the bright sun behind them.
“Quite correct. And my daughter Angelina,” Drake introduced.
“I’d bow, m’lady, but I seem to have twisted my knee in the fall,” Artie replied as gallantly as he could make his voice sound.
“How do you like my oubliette?” Angelina asked smiling evilly at him.
“Oh is it yours? I do apologize for appropriating it. If you’ll throw me a rope or something I’ll gladly vacate it for you,” he replied tartly.
“I hope you keep your sense of humor, Mr. Gordon,” Angelina chuckled, “It’s all you’re going to have to sustain you.”
“Can you swim, Mr. Gordon?” Drake called down.
“Swim? Yes, I can but there’s not much room for that in here,” Artie answered.
“Feel the walls around you, sir,” Drake told him and Artie felt them with one hand.
The walls were damp and cold and Artie suddenly realized what Drake question meant.
“It fills with water?” Artie asked.
“Not completely but yes, when the tide comes in, especially after the rain and storms we had yesterday and last night, the water comes into the oubliette. Quite high, if what Angelina tells me is true,” Drake laughed, “and you will drown, sir.”
Artie knew if the water filled the bowl like area at the bottom and he floated up into the shaft, he would not be able to tread water due to the sheer narrowness of the shaft. And if it did not float him high enough to escape, he would indeed drown.
The entrance closed and he heard a bolt slide securing it. Artie pulled out his pocket watch. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. He didn’t know for sure what time the tide would come in but his best guess was around 8:00. He’d seen signs of the tide coming in at that hour last night.
Setting the candle down Artie searched his pockets for anything that might be of help. He had a few explosives but that was not a wise choice in this confined place. He might collapse the entire structure on himself.
“At least I woouldn’t have to worry about drowning then,” he reasoned then shook away the morbid line of thought. “Damn it! Jim’s the one who usually scales walls or climbs out of pits. I don’t carry anything remotely useful for those kinds of situations,” he chastised himself.
With a sigh, Artie sat on the cold ground, knees bent, forearms on his knees. He had no choice but to wait and hope his partner found him in time. He blew out the candle leaving himself in utter darkness.
WWWWWWWWWW
Jim and Marie reached Edgar Drake’s house as the sun was setting. They tied their horses to the same scrub pines. Marie started for the house but Jim stopped her.
“We have to contact some friends for help,” he told her taking her arm to halt her progress.
“Friends? Out here?” Marie looked around.
“Come on,” Jim said and led her through the wooded area. He moved silently but Marie stepped on twigs which snapped and she gasped when her skirt snagged on a blackberry bush.
“I’m stuck,” she whispered tugging at her skirt.
|
|
|
Post by qohart on Jul 31, 2010 13:51:31 GMT -8
Jim rolled his eyes and helped her disentangle herself. As he stood, he started. A brave stood right in front of him having moved into position without a sound. George stood with the brave grinning.
“You made a lot of noise, Mr. West. It was easy to find you,” George told him.
“Yeah, well,” Jim commented not wanting to voice where the blame should be placed.
George smiled wider and nodded his understanding. “That’s why squaws don’t hunt,” he answered.
Jim smiled in return then turned serious. “There are at least 5 men up at the house with Drake and his daughter. I’d like your help in corralling them and holding them until reinforcements arrive or we get them to the local constables,” Jim explained.
“We’re ready,” George answered and signaled with his hand. Ten more braves joined them.
Jim liked the odds much better now and the group headed to Edgar Drake’s house.
Drake was just coming out of the house when Jim and the 12 Indians and Marie walked into the clearing. Jim pulled his gun and the braves loaded their bows all aimed at the thin, small man.
“Come down the steps slowly, Drake,” Jim ordered stonily.
Hank and two of the other henchmen came from the carriage house. Several braves turned toward them and the thugs stopped in their tracks. The last two men came up from the cellar and also halted when they saw the Indian braves with bows drawn.
Jim walked up to the large wagon and opened the rear doors. “Everyone inside,” he commanded, “and don’t try anything.”
He thought everything was proceeding smoothly but as Hank reached the wagon he turned and swung a beefy hand at Jim’s gun knocking it aside. The two began to grapple, trading punches.
Encouraged, two of the other four joined in the fight. The other two ran into the woods hoping to escape but were marched back into the clearing by even more braves still hiding there.
Edgar Drake ran into the house with Marie on his heels. The door slammed closed as Jim was joined by several braves and they subdued the thugs. They shoved the men into the back of the wagon and Jim used the heavy lock hanging there to secure them inside.
Jim looked around noticing for the first time that Drake and Marie were missing. He ran up the steps and entered the house. He followed the sounds of a struggle and found Marie in a tug of war with Edgar Drake for a large pistol. He hurried over and snagged the gun before it went off in the struggle.
“Give me that,” he snarled at Drake yanking the gun away. Aiming it at the man, Jim motioned toward the door, resigned, Edgar Drake was escorted into the yard. He was locked in the back with his cohorts.
The little man pressed his face to the bars in the door. “This is only a minor setback you know. I have reinforcements of my own,” he chuckled.
“You mean the ones at your home and business in Columbia South Carolina?” Jim asked and watched as Drake blanched. “We know all about them and they’re being rounded up by now.”
“Jim,” Marie said from just behind him, “Where’s Angelina?”
Before Jim could answer, the ground shook as an explosion went off. It was followed by a startled cry and the sound of water.
“What was that?” Jim asked Drake in a sharp tone.
“I fear your partner has gone to meet Poseidon,” Drake chuckled.
“What does that mean?” Jim took a step closer to the wagon. Drake disappeared from his view, sitting on a bench in the back of the wagon and staring mutely at the opposing wall.
The sound of rushing water drew Jim’s attention. One of the braves, standing about half way between the cellar and the woods looked down.
“Here,” the Indian called to Jim.
Jim knelt and listened. He could hear water rushing clearly and began to swipe away the soft sandy soil. He found a round metal door and tried to open it. It would not budge. He heard a soft moan from inside.
“Artie!” Jim shouted cupping his hands over his mouth. When he got no answer, Jim reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bag. He poured the contents forming a circle on the round metal door. It began to spark then flame and soon engulfed the circle burning through the metal. Jim punched the center and turned his head to listen. The cover fell a long way banging and clanging against solid objects before he heard it splash into water below.
“Get me a lantern,” Jim said to no one in particular. He unbolted the door and lifted the remains off. A lantern was shoved into his hand and Jim tied a length of rope to it and lowered it into the hole. He looked down and saw a long narrow shaft partially collapsed farther down. Water was gushing in from one side and filling the shaft.
“He’s drowned by now!” Drake taunted from the wagon having resumed his position at the bars. He was enjoying watching their futile attempts at rescue.
“Jim?” Marie asked as Jim shucked out of his jacket and shirt.
“Artie’s down there,” he answered with certainty. “Find rope, as much as you can,” he ordered. “Artie!” he shouted down the oubliette shaft.
George and several of the other braves soon returned with coils of rope. They set about tying them together to form one long rope while Jim tied one end around his waist. He had no idea what he was going to find down the hole but he had no intention of leaving his partner down there no matter what.
“Go ahead, Mr. West,” George said, “We’ve got this end.”
Jim sat on the edge of the hole then dropped into it. The men lowered him slowly and carefully. Below him, Jim saw the lantern extinguish in the rising water. He wondered just how deep the shaft was. It was difficult maneuvering without full use of his arms and his sleeves and pant legs continuously snagged tree roots. Grabbing the bobbing lantern, he secured it to a protruding root and pushed himself deeper.
“The shaft is partially collapsed,” Jim called up to them when he was two thirds the way down. He wedged and inched his way past the debris and was in water after that. Cold, salt water.
“I’m in water now. I’ll tug on the rope when I’m ready then you pull me up,” he shouted up to the waiting men.
“Will do, Mr. West,” came George’s voice.
The water soon reached chest level and Jim began to take deep breaths in preparation for going under. He took one more deep breath and slid under the water using his feet to hook onto more debris and pull himself lower.
Underwater was as black as night. But Jim reached around, searching for Artie. Something soft wafted past his fingers and he grabbed for it, caught it and pulled.
It was Artie. He felt Artie’s hand grasp his and Jim yanked him upward. It took a few tries but whatever was pinning Artie shifted enough and the two rose. Jim pulled Artie along struggling through the maze of debris until he broke the surface to fresh air. Grabbing what handholds he could, Jim climbed higher until seconds later, Artie’s head cleared the surface.
Taking in great pulls of air, Artie sputtered water he’d taken in in his desperation to fill his lungs.
“You okay?” Jim asked with concern. The two of them were jammed into the shaft that was still filling with ocean water.
“Yeah, I am now,” Artie breathed his chest still heaving. “We have to get out of here but there’s only room for one at a time.”
“I know. You go first,” Jim answered.
“Am I supposed to sprout wings and fly?” Artie sounded frustrated.
Jim untied the rope and dropped it to Artie. “Take the rope,” he said. He saw his partner slip below the surface and he grabbed at his collar and hauled him back up.
“Ugh, thank you, Jim,” Artie said sincerely, he sounded exhausted. “I can’t climb out of here, you better go first.”
Jim looked up toward the opening then back at his partner. He was higher up the shaft than Artie and knew he’d have to get out first. Jim heaved a frustrated sigh. “We’re in a nightmare,” he murmured.
“No, we’re in an oubliette, but you’re close,” Artie retorted. “Look we’re going to both drown if we don’t get moving soon. I assume there’s someone at the other end waiting to pull us out?”
“There is. George and several Nanticoke. Everyone’s been rounded up. Except Angelina,” Jim told him. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Painstakingly the rescuers hauled the agents one by one from their underwater prison.
They were exhausted and sat on the ground catching their breath, Artie alternately rubbing his knee then his elbow.
Suddenly a shriek rent the air. Angelina stormed from the carriage house brandishing a pistol. Jim jumped up as she approached, pulling Artie up with him.
“You were both supposed to die!” she screamed and aimed her gun at Artie’s chest then swung it toward Jim deciding who to shoot first.
They made a move to take cover as she cocked the gun swinging it back to Artie.
“Angelina, no!” cried Marie throwing herself at the crazed woman.
Angelina pulled the trigger and Marie dropped.
“Oh no,” Jim heard his partner’s soft cry as he stumbled past him to kneel beside Marie.
Jim went for Angelina who was getting ready to fire again and wrenched the pistol from her hand. “It’s over!” he barked at her shoving her roughly toward the wagon. Once again he unlocked it and pushed her inside where she babbled to her father of her success.
Jim went to Artie who had placed his soaked jacket over Marie.
“She’s dead,” Artie told him flatly.
“I’m sorry,” Jim answered placing his hand on his partner’s shoulder.
Epilogue
“Artie?” Jim called from the door of the hotel room.
“Out here, Jim,” Artie answered.
Jim stepped onto the balcony where Artie sat comfortably in the Adirondack chair. He was still wet from a swim in the ocean.
“I was just going down for a swim but it looks like you’ve already had one,” Jim smiled. “Care for another?”
“Nope. I just want to sit in the sun for a while. These last two days have done me a lot of good, Jim,” Artie answered, “Thanks for arranging things with the Colonel.”
“We both needed a couple of days to regroup. You okay?” Jim responded.
“Fine. Still amazed at that girl’s spunk and courage but I’m fine,” Artie replied laying his head back and closing his eyes.
“Well I’m going for one last swim,” Jim said and left his partner to his musings.
Crossing the hot sand, Jim looked back at the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel and waved to his friend who now stood at the rail looking out at the ocean. He received a wave in return.
Artie waved back at Jim as he reached the water’s edge and thought back to the first time he’d stood on this balcony. The Pink Hotel was a place he would return to someday under better circumstances.
The End
|
|