Two in the Field (28 page)

I didn’t need to ask who.

“He wasn’t clear, as in the portrait of us,” she said, referring to the time we’d sat for a photographer, only to find Colm in the results. “This time he seemed to be ahead of you and around
you somehow. I saw the side of his face only for an instant, but I’m positive it was
him.”
She set her teacup on the table. “Samuel, are you Colm?”

It was the second time she had asked me that. The first came after a seance in which the medium claimed Colm’s spirit was in the room with us. I wondered how Cait would react if this time I said yes, I was indeed her soldier boy returned. Was that what she wanted?

“Same answer as before,” I said. “I don’t think so. Except that sometimes it almost feels like he’s inside me.”

She swallowed and nodded, a small movement, as if in confirmation. “And you believe it was Colm who saved you from the bullets last night?”

“You should be telling
me
—you saw him and I didn’t.”

“Indeed, I saw … something.” She rose and poured water from a pitcher into her cup and rinsed it, her arms working briskly. When she turned back to me she seemed more resolute, as if she’d reached some decision. “Well, then,” she said, a humorous lilt now unmistakable, “given your special closeness to Colm, I suppose it makes sense that his uncle speaks so well of you.”

Bless you, John O’Neill, I thought.

“Is Andy’s family proper and nice?” she asked abruptly, drying her hands on a towel.

“I haven’t met them. Andy just said he was married and had a newborn boy.”

She considered that. “I’ve asked my brother for only one thing in this life,” she said at length, “which was to bury Mother in the Old Country. He accomplished it—although ’twas done with your money.”

I shook my head. “The family’s money.”

“I have something to ask of Andy now,” she went on, “and of you, Samuel.”

I waited, thinking it improbable that I could deny her anything.

“I want you to take Tim to live with Andy.” Her voice was flat and quiet.

I frowned in disbelief. “Take him away from you?”

“I’m tired, Samuel.” She brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “Tired of fighting against everything opposing us here—including my son.” She hesitated as if trying to find the right words. “Yesterday I saw plainly how Tim wants to be one of your kind of paid athlete. Perhaps your coming back is meant as instruction to me.”

“Instruction?” I leaned forward. “Is that all my presence here means, Cait?”

She folded her hands in her lap and shifted her gaze to an indeterminate point past my shoulder, as if seeking refuge there. I saw that her breathing had quickened. After several long moments it became clear that she would not respond.

“Tim’s a good kid,” I said finally. “He’s probably just going through a phase.”

“ ‘Phase?’ ” She twisted the defiant strand of curly hair between her fingers. “You see his ‘good’ side, Samuel, but it’s defiance I receive. And little else. I’ve reached the end of my endurance. Tim is nearing manhood and desires to be on his own. So be it.”

Her nervous fingers belied the firm words. Wondering darkly if part of her intention was to get rid of me, I said, “Why not go see Andy yourself?”

“I’m needed here,” she replied. “The colony faces terrible problems. John has put his trust in the wrong men. When he goes off to raise money and recruit new settlers, who will watch over things if I leave?”

I shrugged, which caused her to frown.

“You cannot know how it destroys people to lose their land!”
she said fervently. “Here, on this rich soil, all who care to work will be squireens!”

“Excuse me,” I said. “What’s a squireen?”

“A person with title to property,” she said. “His own and not a landlord’s!”

How odd, I thought, that although I’d never much cared for zealots, part of my attraction to Cait was her fierce devotion to the Irish cause.

“I know it’s asking a great deal,” she said. “But I’ve talked to John, who is willing to use part of yesterday’s winnings to pay for Tim’s fare and lodging—as I understand yours will be paid also.”

“You know about that?”

“Yes, and I wish you success. We desperately need the money that was swindled from us. John believes you to be our best hope.”

I waited in vain for more. “What do
you
believe?”

“In truth, I can’t say if I even believe you’ll return here,” she replied. “Still, there’s no denying that without you the means for this attempt would not exist. I’d rather Tim didn’t start out alone, and so—”

“Cait, do you
want
me to leave?”

She took a breath and did not answer at first. “This trouble with Tim was coming sooner or later,” she said finally, avoiding my question. “He never wanted to be here. All he talked about was returning to the cities, where the ballists are. Your arriving rekindled all of that and made handling him even more impossible. Imagine turning to thievery to escape!” Shaking her head in disbelief, she sounded defeated.

“Like you said, you’re asking a lot.” I took her hands in mine. “I need something too, Cait. Aren’t you even the slightest bit glad that I came back here and stayed on?”

She didn’t exactly pull back physically, but became very still.
“For a certainty,” she said, “you have labored as hard as any colonist and done your full share—”

“Dammit, Cait, don’t you have feelings for me?”

“I’ll not answer that.” Her voice was strained as she freed her hands. “Please don’t ask me.”

“Okay.” I stood up, trying not to sound dejected. “I’ll get Tim safely to Andy.” My head felt overloaded with conflicting thoughts. But my hear, well, no conflict resided there. I wanted to tell her that I understood what Tim was going through, what it was like to live without a father, to be always searching for something.

“I’d like Tim to have more schooling,” she said after a moment. “Will you tell Andy that?”

I promised that I would and that I’d try to influence Tim in that direction myself.

“He worships you.” She smiled a bit sadly. “And I know that you truly care for him.”

“However it works out with Tim and Andy,” I said firmly, “I’m coming back here.”

She looked up, nephrite eyes meeting mine, and nodded slowly, her hair moving in a mass of dark curls.

I wanted to take the gesture as encouragement. More than that: as an affirmation.

In Grand Central, John O’Neill handed me a letter that had just arrived. It was a confidential report from an Eastern informant who had traced the share certificates issued on the O’Neill colony to the Merchants Trust Bank in Albany. He’d also determined that McDermott was employed at John Morrissey’s gambling house in Saratoga Springs.

“Boston isn’t too far from there,” I said. “After I drop Tim off, I think I’ll pay Red Jim a little visit.”

“Be cautious,” O’Neill said. “He’s treacherous as a weasel.
And Morrissey’s worse—the very devil’s spawn.” He moved to a small safe in one corner, withdrew a sheaf of paper money, and counted out a hundred dollars. Thinking to pay back part of Twain’s loan, I asked for fifty more.

“I’ll use it well,” I promised.

He handed me the bills. “I believe you will.”

Two matters remained. One was to talk Tim into apologizing to John O’Neill. “If you want to be treated like a man,” I told him, “you need to act like one. Set things right before you go.”

Reluctantly, he accompanied me to Grand Central and told his great-uncle he was sorry.

“We’ll miss you, lad.” O’Neill embraced him. “Have you made peace yet with your mother?”

Tim stiffened and shook his head.

I knew that he and Cait had said things to each other that needed healing.

“In the fullness of time, then,” O’Neill said. “Good luck, son.” We watched Tim walk away. “My father died before I was born,” he told me. “Just like Caitlin’s boy. Did you know that?”

“No,” I said, wondering if it ran in the family.

“It’s a harder road to walk, but Tim will come through—he’s got the spirit of Colm in him.”

While I pondered that, O’Neill added, “I hope you’ll be a father to him.”

I sensed that he meant it for more than this trip. Why he favored me over ultra-Irish Tip McKee was anybody’s guess, but I’d do my damndest not to let him down.

The other thing was to tell Cait goodbye. She looked hollow-eyed and dismal when she answered my knock. “I’ll take care of Tim,” I promised her. “And I’ll make sure Andy communicates with us afterward.”

She looked at me questioningly.

“I’m coming back,” I told her again, and handed her the pendant with two doves. “This is yours.”

Together we looked at the silver figures in her palm. God knows what she was thinking. Maybe that not only did “Colm” mean “dove,” but that in me she was dealing with a man with two aspects—one of them ghostly. From that perspective, the facing birds formed a Janus. Whatever her thoughts, her fingers closed over it. The gesture gave me more pleasure than anything in a long while.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” I said. “I might be bringing a widow and her daughter back to settle here.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Another widow?”

“This one’s Irish,” I said, then, at a loss for further words, “Good-bye for now.”

“Good-bye, Samuel.” She sounded carefully controlled.

After several steps I wheeled around, the words bursting from me. “Cait, I love you.”

She looked at me silently.

I waited.

“I know,” she said finally, and reached out a tentative hand to touch my arm, the pressure of her fingers there only briefly, but the sensation lingering like a caress.

 SEVENTEEN 

“Good luck, Tim!” Linc twisted in his saddle as he started back with our horses in tow. “Don’t forget us when you’re an ace—we’ll still need a shortstop!”

The boy brightened momentarily. We stood on the dock of the Wisner station, waiting for the eastbound train. I’d expected Tim to be elated now that he was free to chase his dream, but he’d been oddly subdued. We watched Linc disappear beyond a distant rise.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

It took him a while to spill it. Despite his brave talk of becoming a ballplayer, he felt uncertain and a bit lonely; it turned out that he’d never been away from Cait.