it was important to keep the man talking, however, and so he asked, “How long has your brother been away?”
“He left nearly twenty years ago and hasn’t been back since. I know my father is dying, and it was his one wish that he see his son again before he goes. I finally tracked Nate down in New York and persuaded him to come home. He’s only been here a few days … and now this has happened.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll look again tomorrow.”
Reuben shook his head. “Tomorrow’s going to be too late. He’s already gone.”
Upon their return, there was no news in Wellington that would prove him wrong. No one had reported seeing Nate, no one had welcomed a dazed stranger, and no one offered any clue as to what had happened to the missing man. The searchers promised to meet again the next morning before turning away to head home.
Chapter Two
The woman pulled her cloak a little closer around her neck, but no clothing seemed able to protect her from the insidious damp that seeped into everything, even the bench she sat on, which still felt clammy underneath her after so many hours. Her neck was stiff and sore and her legs hurt from bracing herself against the roll of the vessel. She hadn’t expected the constant climbing and slamming as the steamer fought its way through the choppy water, nor the bitter cold that gripped the cabin in spite of the small stove that puffed away in the middle of the room. Even when she managed to ignore her discomfort long enough to doze a little, the steamer whistle would startle her awake whenever they approached another squalid little lake port, where she would straighten herself up in her seat as other passengers departed or boarded.
After the porter announced that Wellington was the next stop, she was ready for the shriek of the whistle and jumped only a little as it signalled the ship’s approach. She had never been so glad to see the end of a journey.
For her son’s sake, she had tried to make their travels seem like an adventure, and when they first set off he had been intrigued by the passing sights along the Hudson River and the wonder of watching the mules pulling the ship through the canal. This had soon palled, however, and he had become bored and whiney. They were both relieved when they finally disembarked and made their connection to Niagara Falls. Here their spirits had been revived by the sight of the great cascades of water rushing over the cliff to the whirlpool below, and she had taken off her hat and leaned as far as she dared over the railing so the spray could wash her face clean.
Her exhilaration had quickly worn off when she discovered that accommodation in the resort town was expensive, even for the tiniest of rooms. She and her husband had divided what was left of their money before they split up. There wasn’t nearly as much as there should have been — they had both spent lavishly in the mistaken belief that the flow of income would never end. She knew it would be unwise to try to augment her purse here in this border town — it would draw far too much attention and there were many Americans at the hotel. Niagara Falls was a popular destination for New Yorkers looking for a change of scene, and any one of them could give her whereabouts away with a casual comment once they returned home. Better to bide her time until they were all together again. Then they would test the winds of circumstance and set a course for their next destination.
Day after day she waited, as the money drained away. After a week, she decided that she could wait no longer. She was told that there was a fairly reliable coach service that would take them on to Wellington, but that there would be several time-wasting stops along the way. She was also informed that if the road was muddy, the passengers were expected to get out and walk. She found this an unappealing prospect.
The steamer was more expensive, but if they went by coach she would have to pay for an inn wherever they stopped, with no prospect of finding any customers during the short overnight stays. Besides, she didn’t think she could abide the jostling of a coach for so many miles.
Ultimately, she decided that it was faster and cheaper to go by water. She briefly considered neglecting to settle her hotel bill, but decided that this would draw too much attention to the fact that she had been in Niagara Falls. Reluctantly, she handed over what she owed. The few coins she had left were barely enough to cover the steamship fare, with nothing extra for private quarters. So she and the boy spent the entire journey sitting up on the benches provided in the public cabin. As a result, she was sore and exhausted and the boy had begun to whine again. She looked at her son anxiously; he was pale at the best of times, but now his face had an ashen tinge to it that matched the slate-coloured sky that stretched away to the horizon.
As soon as the captain had signalled their approach, she had risen and gone to the cabin window. She could see that Wellington was no bigger or better than any of the other towns they had called at along the way, and she felt a twinge of homesickness for the chaotic bustle of city streets. There were several men waiting with carts at the wharf, and as soon as the gangplank was lowered she directed the porter to load their luggage into one of these. It was little more than a hay wagon, with a board laid across to serve as a seat, but it was no worse than any of the others, and the carter looked friendly.
“Where to ma’am?” he asked as he helped her up onto the seat.
She hesitated. Should she go straight to the farm or find a quiet inn where she could stay until she found out what had happened? But the village was too small for that. She could scarcely pass as a stranger. Best to talk to Reuben first. Besides, her husband could well be waiting there, delayed by some unforeseen event and his message to that effect gone astray.
“Ma’am?” The carter sat, reins in hand, waiting for her instruction.
She made her decision. “Do you know the Reuben Elliott place? I’m told it’s not far from here.”
The carter nodded and set his team in motion with a flick of the reins. He seemed uncurious about who she was or what her business might be with the Elliotts. She blessed the man’s stolidity as they rumbled down Wellington’s main street.
An hour later they were rumbling back again. Reuben had seemed annoyed when he realized who it was at his door. He had admitted her only as far as the front hall while the carter waited with the wagon. Reuben had imparted little information other than the bare facts that her husband had disappeared nearly a week previously, and that he had no idea what had happened to him after that. He had not offered accommodation, or any sort of assistance. Reluctantly, she had climbed back into the wagon and directed the carter to return her to Wellington.
Her mind was in a whirl. Something had gone wrong, that much seemed clear. But what? Until she knew what had happened, she decided, she would stay the course.
As they drove along the main street, she realized that the village was even smaller than it had appeared from the water.
The carter took her to a tavern. As he halted his team, the tavern door swung open and two men staggered outside. It was still only early afternoon, but it was apparent that they were already drunk.
“Is there anywhere else?” she asked her driver. “A respectable inn, if such a thing exists. Somewhere a lady might stay with her son without fear of interference?”
The carter wrinkled his brow and seemed to think deeply for a moment. Then his face brightened. “Well now, there’s the new place. The Temperance House. It doesn’t serve liquor. It seems very respectable, although I don’t know of anyone who’s stayed there. It’s new, you see.”
“Perfect. Please take me there.” No drunks to chase the women away, she thought, for she would have to work while she waited. Easy pickings. But I’ll have to be careful.
After
