Time Out of Mind (80 page)
Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
Another two days passed, time enough for Margaret and
Jonathan to be met at Union Station and escorted to Ev
anston, before Teddy Roosevelt appeared at the Maple Av
enue address and encountered a very startled Lucy Stone.
There were few men living who could intimidate Lucy
Stone, least of all a man half her size, but she was not prepared for the arrival of a well-known political figure
with a most forceful personality who also had the reputation
of being slightly mad. He asked politely enough for an in
terview with Margaret, then quickly became agitated upon
Lucy's nervous insistence that she knew nothing of Mrs. Corbin's whereabouts. It was a foolish lie but a protective
one. She had no knowledge of Roosevelt's relationship with
Tilden and even less confidence in the motives of any pol
itician. For his part, Roosevelt began to imagine still an
other sinister disappearance and began shouting his demand
that she tell him all she knew at once. Thoroughly fright
ened, Lucy pointed down the road in the direction of Laura
Hemmings's house and indicated, before slamming the
door, that the white woman who lived there might have more time to talk to him.
Jonathan to be met at Union Station and escorted to Ev
anston, before Teddy Roosevelt appeared at the Maple Av
enue address and encountered a very startled Lucy Stone.
There were few men living who could intimidate Lucy
Stone, least of all a man half her size, but she was not prepared for the arrival of a well-known political figure
with a most forceful personality who also had the reputation
of being slightly mad. He asked politely enough for an in
terview with Margaret, then quickly became agitated upon
Lucy's nervous insistence that she knew nothing of Mrs. Corbin's whereabouts. It was a foolish lie but a protective
one. She had no knowledge of Roosevelt's relationship with
Tilden and even less confidence in the motives of any pol
itician. For his part, Roosevelt began to imagine still an
other sinister disappearance and began shouting his demand
that she tell him all she knew at once. Thoroughly fright
ened, Lucy pointed down the road in the direction of Laura
Hemmings's house and indicated, before slamming the
door, that the white woman who lived there might have more time to talk to him.
Teddy's interview with Laura was even less fruitful.
Laura, unlike Lucy, was aware that Tilden and Roosevelt were friends of long standing, but she did not know how
much he knew of Tilden’s relationship with Margaret or of
Margaret's history. In any case, after working so hard to
get Margaret out of harm's way, she was not about to undo
it all on the very day Margaret was unpacking in Evanston. She told Teddy that Margaret had been suffering from mel
ancholy of late and had gone, she believed, to Wilkes-
Barre, where she and her child were visiting the family of
her late husband. Roosevelt, this time, saw the lie in her
eyes. But he also realized that Margaret was clearly being
protected and was probably in no danger at all. As for her
true location, Wilkes-Barre or elsewhere, he imagined he'd learn it soon enough. He did not know why she'd gone but,
in his heart, he could not dismiss the notion that a perma
nent estrangement might be for the best all around. It was
a relationship, as it stood, that promised more pain than
pleasure. Teddy thanked Laura Hemmings for her time and
returned to the station, where he entrained for New York.
Wherever Tilden was, whatever harm had befallen him,
Roosevelt had no doubt in the world that Jay Gould was
behind it. But he could not risk confronting Gould without
evidence. Gould would simply answer him with silence and then cover his tracks all the more. He was grinding his teeth
over this dilemma as he stepped through the front door of
his house at 6 West Fifty-seventh Street and was met by a
wide-eyed housekeeper who told him that three plug-uglies were waiting in the parlor. She had told them that they must
wait out on the sidewalk, but the biggest one had simply
picked her up and kissed her forehead and told her that a
cup of tea would be very nice indeed, especially if she was
to pour a nip of good whiskey into it.
“
Who are they?” he whispered, stepping to his umbrella
stand and choosing a sword cane from the instruments
there.
”
I don't know, sir,” she said in a hushed tone. “But
they are Irishmen. The one called Sullivan says his name
prouder than Christ himself would say his own.”
Teddy was still grinning hugely as he stepped into his parlor and offered his hand to John L. Sullivan, to his dear
old friend John Flood, and to a third battered-looking tough
who was introduced to him as Mr. William O'Gorman.
Roosevelt had seen nothing of the champion since his
seventy-five-round drubbing of Jake Kilrain nearly two
years before and not a great deal more of John Flood, who had helped get him in shape for that fight and would soon
begin drying him out again if the much-talked-about challenge by young James Corbett was taken. At another time,
they would have sat and talked boxing right through supper,
but Teddy knew that this was not a social visit no matter
how welcome.
”
I think maybe we found him,” John Flood said after
all hands were shaken. “Mr. O'Gorman here posted a hun
dred dollars for the man who found Tilden's trail. It was
claimed yesterday by one of Jay Gould's groundskeepers
who saw what he thought was a dead man of Tilden's de
scription being hauled away from Gould's place up on the Hudson a fortnight ago. Billy then sent six men up to
Westchester to scout the hospitals and the jails. Two of
them went to a lockup in a town called Ardsley. One went in, the other waited outside. The first never came out. The
second ran for his life when he saw a constable with a
bleedin' nose come outa the jail house and come at him
with a cosh in his hand. This was this mornin'. He told Mr.
O'Gorman here and Mr. O'Gorman found me at the gym
with John. John says he's throwin' in with us because he's
been wantin' to take apart a jail house since they put him
in one down in Mississippi after the Kilrain fight, especially
if Tilden's inside it. I figured we better have a little law on
our side too and you're the closest thing to it we know.”
I think maybe we found him,” John Flood said after
all hands were shaken. “Mr. O'Gorman here posted a hun
dred dollars for the man who found Tilden's trail. It was
claimed yesterday by one of Jay Gould's groundskeepers
who saw what he thought was a dead man of Tilden's de
scription being hauled away from Gould's place up on the Hudson a fortnight ago. Billy then sent six men up to
Westchester to scout the hospitals and the jails. Two of
them went to a lockup in a town called Ardsley. One went in, the other waited outside. The first never came out. The
second ran for his life when he saw a constable with a
bleedin' nose come outa the jail house and come at him
with a cosh in his hand. This was this mornin'. He told Mr.
O'Gorman here and Mr. O'Gorman found me at the gym
with John. John says he's throwin' in with us because he's
been wantin' to take apart a jail house since they put him
in one down in Mississippi after the Kilrain fight, especially
if Tilden's inside it. I figured we better have a little law on
our side too and you're the closest thing to it we know.”
“
I'll have my carriage brought around.” Teddy squeezed
the sword cane in his fist.
Tilden was indeed in the Ardsley jail. Teddy knew it the moment their carriage stopped outside and he heard a bolt
being thrown on the door of the constable's office. Billy O'Gorman touched John Flood's arm and pointed to a sin
gle black wire, which ran through a hole drilled in the brick
at one end of the small building and on up to the crossbars of a utility pole. Flood gave a sign, and Billy O'Gorman
severed the phone wire with a knife cut so fast as to be
almost unseen. If that were a man's throat, John Flood
knew, he'd still be standing there wondering why he
couldn't talk no more. Flood was less subtle. He took one long step and smashed a shoe against the point where he
guessed the bolt to be. The entire door fell in, held only by
its bottom hinge. Flood caught a glimpse of two armed men
ducking down behind a desk before he slid sideways out
of the line of fire. He also saw a telephone set on the wall,
its ear horn dangling uselessly.
being thrown on the door of the constable's office. Billy O'Gorman touched John Flood's arm and pointed to a sin
gle black wire, which ran through a hole drilled in the brick
at one end of the small building and on up to the crossbars of a utility pole. Flood gave a sign, and Billy O'Gorman
severed the phone wire with a knife cut so fast as to be
almost unseen. If that were a man's throat, John Flood
knew, he'd still be standing there wondering why he
couldn't talk no more. Flood was less subtle. He took one long step and smashed a shoe against the point where he
guessed the bolt to be. The entire door fell in, held only by
its bottom hinge. Flood caught a glimpse of two armed men
ducking down behind a desk before he slid sideways out
of the line of fire. He also saw a telephone set on the wall,
its ear horn dangling uselessly.
“
This is Theodore Roosevelt of the state legislature,”
Teddy called. ”I am coming in and you will hold your
fire.”
“
You come through that door,” came a voice from in
side, “and you'll never go through another.”
“
And this, God damn it, is John L. Sullivan himself,”
the champion roared. His voice made even Roosevelt
flinch.
“
The hell you say.”
Sullivan held up a fist in the open doorway. “Don't try
my patience, boys. Unless you have a cannon bigger than
this, put down those things and start behaving like goddam
ned gentlemen.”
“
Next you'll tell me that's Jake Kilrain out there with
you.”
Next you'll tell me that's Jake Kilrain out there with
you.”
“
It's a better man than that, by God. That was John
Flood who stove in your door.”
“
John Flood? The Bull's Head Terror?”
“
The same.”
“
Is that so? Is that you, John?”
“
It is.”
“
Then show yourself.”
Flood stepped full into the door.
“
It's him, by God,” the deputy inside said to the other.
“It's John Flood himself.”
John Flood cocked his head toward Sullivan and
shrugged an apology. Teddy Roosevelt sighed. The basically simple process of breaking into a jail now required a vote on the personal popularity of the men breaking in.
Sullivan's expression was just on the edge of a sulk.
shrugged an apology. Teddy Roosevelt sighed. The basically simple process of breaking into a jail now required a vote on the personal popularity of the men breaking in.
Sullivan's expression was just on the edge of a sulk.
”
I seen you fight.” The deputy stood up. ”I seen you
fight Joe Goss.”
I seen you fight.” The deputy stood up. ”I seen you
fight Joe Goss.”
John Flood entered the office, followed by Teddy and
O'Gorman. Sullivan followed, muttering
something
about
how Goss would have fared against his maiden aunt.
The deputy lowered his shotgun but held it ready. “Keep your distance, boys. Even you, John Flood. I ought to arrest y
ou for what you done. I'd admire the company for a few
days.”
ou for what you done. I'd admire the company for a few
days.”
Flood pointed to a barred steel door behind the other
deputy. “Who you got back there, lad?”
”
I can't tell you that, John.”
Billy O'Gorman cupped his hands to his mouth. “Larry
Donovan? Are you in there?”
“
Who's that?” came a distant and filtered voice. “Is that
you, Billy?”
“
It's me and some friends. Is Beckwith in there with
you?”
“
He's down the cellar. They got a bleedin' dungeon here
just like bleedin' Newgate.”
The deputy swung his shotgun onto Billy O'Gorman's
chest. Sullivan, who had drifted to one side in apparent disinterest, made a lightning slash at the shotgun's breech,
his little finger jamming under the twin hammers, then
snatched away the weapon as the hammers slammed down
harmlessly. Within the same instant, Billy O'Gorman's
knife came up under the younger deputy's chin as Teddy's
hand snaked forward to relieve him of his weapon.
Sullivan glowered at the man whose shotgun hammers
still pinched his little finger. “Did you hear who I said I was just before? Did you hear me say I was champion of
the world?”
“
You'll be champion of Sing Sing if you don't give back
that gun. Anyways, you're a damned liar. You're both too
small and too sober to be John L. Sullivan.”
“
Hmmm.
...
Gentlemen ...” Teddy stepped forward
but Sullivan waved him off.
Sullivan recocked the shotgun and offered it back to the
deputy. “That's a champion's speed that stopped those
hammers.” He leaned his face close into the other man's. “
Would you like to try me again? Except this time, by God,
I'll show you a champion's right fist as well.”
“
I'll take his keys first if you don't mind.” Teddy
reached for a ring on the deputy's belt.
“
Won't do you no good for the cellar. The chief consta
ble carries those and right now he's fishin' for shad up by
Poughkeepsie.”
“
You've kept the man in a basement cell for two
weeks?” Roosevelt asked quietly as he opened the cell
block door. “We're told he was hurt. Has he received any
care?”
You've kept the man in a basement cell for two
weeks?” Roosevelt asked quietly as he opened the cell
block door. “We're told he was hurt. Has he received any
care?”
“
This ain't my doin'.”
“
Answer my question, sir.”
“
He gets fed. Most days he eats what we push through
the trap.”
“
When did you last see him?” Teddy handed the keys
to O'Gorman, who disappeared toward Larry Donovan's
cell.
When did you last see him?” Teddy handed the keys
to O'Gorman, who disappeared toward Larry Donovan's
cell.
“
When they toted him in here.”
Teddy reached for the deputy's arm with a gentleness
that brought a scowl to Sullivan's face. “Come. Show me
the way to the cellar,” he said. John Flood did not scowl.
He knew what the soft voice meant. He knew that Teddy's
touch would not long be gentle.
that brought a scowl to Sullivan's face. “Come. Show me
the way to the cellar,” he said. John Flood did not scowl.
He knew what the soft voice meant. He knew that Teddy's
touch would not long be gentle.
Charley Murtree groaned to his feet at the sound of the
door chime. The color around ,his left eye had faded to a
light mustard shade and the swelling had gone down around
the cuts on his knuckles, but his ribs would need two more
weeks before he could hope for a decent night's sleep on them. Still, he was better off than old Calicoon. Calicoon,
he got rocked back into one of them hot water kettles and
it just rolled over on him like a fat lady on a rope bunk.
Never heard Calicoon make so many different sounds in
his whole life.
door chime. The color around ,his left eye had faded to a
light mustard shade and the swelling had gone down around
the cuts on his knuckles, but his ribs would need two more
weeks before he could hope for a decent night's sleep on them. Still, he was better off than old Calicoon. Calicoon,
he got rocked back into one of them hot water kettles and
it just rolled over on him like a fat lady on a rope bunk.
Never heard Calicoon make so many different sounds in
his whole life.
Other books
Did You Really Shoot the Television? by Max Hastings
A Little Class on Murder by Carolyn G. Hart
Budding Star by Annie Dalton
Red Hood's Revenge by Jim C. Hines
Redemption by Erica Stevens
The Robot King by H. Badger
An Acceptable Time by Madeleine L'Engle
Sila's Fortune by Fabrice Humbert
Tug of Attraction by Ashlyn Chase
