[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

to learn about frontline skirmishes. He shrugged.  But he likes his Montana ranch and has no interest
in moving East.
 How are you going to tolerate Charleston after Arizona? John asked.
Chayce grimaced.  About as well as Geronimo and his Chiricahua Apache liked being
marooned in St. Augustine, I expect. Desert dwellers don t cotton to damp rot.
 Charleston has its good points. I lived there for several years and loved it, John recalled.
 You loved the sea, Chayce reminded him.  I remember hearing you talk about all the sailing
you used to do with your father and brothers as a boy. But I hate it.
 You ll have plenty of years to learn to love it.
Chayce sighed.  I hope not.
 Give it time. You ll work your way back into favor one day.
Chayce shrugged.  So they say.
He stayed only a little longer and then declared that he had to be on his way, so that he didn t
miss his train.
 It s been swell seeing you again, he told John as they shook hands out on the sidewalk where a
carriage had been summoned and was waiting for Chayce.  Take care of your wife. She s a treasure.
 Thank you, Colonel, Claire replied, with a smile.  It was a pleasure to have met you. Do stop
by the next time you come this way.
 Perhaps by then you ll have a proper house and a yardful of children, Chayce remarked, but
he was looking at John, not Claire, when he said it.  Please thank Mrs. Dobbs for the delicious cake,
Claire, and keep well. So long.
John pulled his pocket watch out and glanced at it.  I ll share your carriage. I have to get back to
the bank, he said. He glanced at Claire.  I ll be late. Don t wait supper.
He climbed in beside Chayce. The door closed. The carriage took off down the street. Claire
stood on the sidewalk looking after it. She d learned something new about her husband, but it would
do her no good at all. If he d cared for her, she d have learned those things from him, and not had to
find them out from his old friend Chayce.
Amazingly, the next day John actually took her riding. He left his office just after noon and hired
a carriage with a driver.
 I thought it might be nice for you to get out of the house for a bit, he explained when she
appeared shocked by his suggestion.
 We we never go anywhere together, she stammered.
 What about the bank social Saturday night? he asked.
She smiled.  Well, there s that.
He handed her into the carriage and climbed in beside her, his eyes approving of her black suit
with its natty white trim and her matching hat. She had incredible dress sense when she wasn t
working on that silly automobile or riding that cursed wheel. She only rode it around the property,
but she often fell off, and it was a high one. He felt guilty about puncturing one of her tires and then
lying about having no time to get it patched for her. She wouldn t know that he was concerned for her
welfare. More and more, the idea of Claire being hurt in any way, physically or emotionally, was
disturbing to him.
They talked about Atlanta and its tempestuous past, talking about more recent events like the
unusual house on Peachtree Street, the  house that Jack built, and the famous Tally-ho wagon of the
Driving Club that a retired military man used to carry pretty debutantes and visiting dignitaries racing
along the streets. The coach was pulled by white horses and regal in its livery, and a silver trumpet
sounded its approach.
 What a fabulous city this is, Claire said.
 And what a future it has, John replied.  We make long-term as well as short-term loans to
businesses, and we re showing huge profits. Well, on paper, at least, he added to himself, putting
aside some nagging worries about the bank s finances that he wasn t going to share with Claire.
 Oh, John, look! She grabbed his arm unconsciously, wincing as she saw a carriage just ahead
of them collide with a dog and knock it to the roadside. It kept going.  The animal! How could they
leave it! John, do stop, she pleaded.
 Of course we ll stop, he said, equally incensed. He banged on the top of the coach with his
cane, tossed his hat aside, and unbuttoned his jacket and discarded it before he followed Claire out of
the carriage. He rolled up his sleeves on the way.
The animal was yelping in pain. John knelt beside it and his hands gently felt for breaks in its
ribs and legs while it tried feebly to snap at him.
 It s his leg, John said after a minute.  I ll need a splint and some gauze.
 It s in pain.
 Yes, I know. But there s very little I can do about that, he said apologetically.
 Beauregard! a sobbing, elderly voice called. A tiny little old woman with white hair came
down the path from an imposing brick home. She leaned heavily on a cane.  Oh, dear. Oh, dear, she
said, wiping away tears. She looked at John helplessly.  Will he die? she asked resignedly.
 Certainly not, John said gently.  He has a broken leg and he s in some pain. Have you gauze
and something I can use for a splint?
 Oh, are you a doctor? the old woman asked.
 No, but I ve patched up enough wounded men in my time. I know what to do. I ll carry him.
 You ll get dirty, young man, the old lady said worriedly.
He chuckled.  Yes, I probably will. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

razem.keep.pl