the bullet out?”
She nodded. “And all the bits of leather and cloth fiber – and the infected tissue too. The scar’s going to be bigger than you expected, but I did a nice, neat stitching job.” She put the back of her hand against his forehead. “Your fever’s broken. I think you just might make it.”
He tried to sit up and groaned. “I ain’t so sure about that.”
She pushed him back down. “It’s going to take a while for the drug to wear off.”
“ My head feels like I drunk me a whole barrel o’ whiskey.”
She gave him a cup. “Drink that.”
“ What is it?” he asked suspiciously.
“ Water. When you’re more alert I’ll give you some soup.”
He took a sip then a swallow. “Why are y’ doin’ this for me, Marina?”
“ I told you.”
“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what you told me, but you ain’t no more interested in sex than me.”
“ I never heard of a man that wasn’t interested in sex.”
“ I’m damn near seventy years old,” he sputtered, “and yer a sight older than me.”
She laughed. “Relax, Josiah. I’m only teasing you. You’re safe. But I’m younger than you in more ways than one.”
He finished the water and handed her the cup. “Can I have some more?”
She refilled it and gave it to him.
He took a sip, then looked at his hand. “Did you wash me?”
“ It was self-defense.”
“ All over?”
“ All over. You have no secrets from me, Josiah. Your equipment is magnificent, by the way.”
He took another swallow, then met her eyes. “If I was still interested in sex – I mean… If I was a younger man…”
She patted his hand. “I like you too. Don’t worry about it.”
“ How’d you get here?”
“ Steamboat from San Francisco.”
“ What’re you gonna do when you leave here?” he asked after a short silence. “Back to San Francisco or Mexico?”
“ Neither. My brother died last winter and it seems that he’s left me his plantation near Mesilla in the New Mexico territory. I need to go settle his debts and sell the place. After that – I’m not sure.”
“ I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“ There’s a whole lot that you don’t know about me.”
He nodded. “Reckon so. Sorry.”
“ There’s nothing to apologize for, Josiah.”
“ Reckon you’d want some company?”
“ Company?”
“ Yeah. On yer journey to New Mexico.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d be glad for your company. But first we need to get you well.”
June 19, 1850
Brunswick, Maine
A nna Lagrange stepped down from the carriage and looked up at the driver. “Stonemore House?”
He pointed. “Just across the green.”
“ Thank you.” Anna stepped up onto the sidewalk, followed it around the small park and along a low wrought-iron fence to a stately two-story white house with dark green trim.
She was met at the door by a black maid who eyed her suspiciously. “Can I help you?”
“ I am Anna Van Buskirk with the New York Tribune . I have an appointment with Mrs. Stowe.”
“ Mrs. Stowe didn’t say nothin’ about no lady callers.”
“ When I write I use my initials, A.M.; she may think that I’m a man.”
“ Just a moment. I needs to ask.”
“ Fine.” Anna took a fan from her sleeve and popped it open as the maid closed the door.
Two minutes later, a pale, blonde woman with sad blue eyes opened the door. “I am so dreadfully sorry. Please come in, Miss Van Buskirk.”
“ It’s Mrs. Lagrange actually.” Anna stepped into the cool entryway. “Van Buskirk is my maiden name. Mr. Greeley insisted on my using A.M. Van Buskirk in my byline.” Anna removed her right glove and offered her hand. “I’m Anna Marina Van Buskirk Lagrange. Please call me Anna.”
The other woman hesitated for a moment, then took Anna’s hand. “I’m Harriet Stowe.” She seemed rattled. “Of course you know that.” She released Anna’s hand and closed the door. “I use my maiden name too. As my pen name. That is, I use my full name.
She nodded. “And all the bits of leather and cloth fiber – and the infected tissue too. The scar’s going to be bigger than you expected, but I did a nice, neat stitching job.” She put the back of her hand against his forehead. “Your fever’s broken. I think you just might make it.”
He tried to sit up and groaned. “I ain’t so sure about that.”
She pushed him back down. “It’s going to take a while for the drug to wear off.”
“ My head feels like I drunk me a whole barrel o’ whiskey.”
She gave him a cup. “Drink that.”
“ What is it?” he asked suspiciously.
“ Water. When you’re more alert I’ll give you some soup.”
He took a sip then a swallow. “Why are y’ doin’ this for me, Marina?”
“ I told you.”
“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what you told me, but you ain’t no more interested in sex than me.”
“ I never heard of a man that wasn’t interested in sex.”
“ I’m damn near seventy years old,” he sputtered, “and yer a sight older than me.”
She laughed. “Relax, Josiah. I’m only teasing you. You’re safe. But I’m younger than you in more ways than one.”
He finished the water and handed her the cup. “Can I have some more?”
She refilled it and gave it to him.
He took a sip, then looked at his hand. “Did you wash me?”
“ It was self-defense.”
“ All over?”
“ All over. You have no secrets from me, Josiah. Your equipment is magnificent, by the way.”
He took another swallow, then met her eyes. “If I was still interested in sex – I mean… If I was a younger man…”
She patted his hand. “I like you too. Don’t worry about it.”
“ How’d you get here?”
“ Steamboat from San Francisco.”
“ What’re you gonna do when you leave here?” he asked after a short silence. “Back to San Francisco or Mexico?”
“ Neither. My brother died last winter and it seems that he’s left me his plantation near Mesilla in the New Mexico territory. I need to go settle his debts and sell the place. After that – I’m not sure.”
“ I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“ There’s a whole lot that you don’t know about me.”
He nodded. “Reckon so. Sorry.”
“ There’s nothing to apologize for, Josiah.”
“ Reckon you’d want some company?”
“ Company?”
“ Yeah. On yer journey to New Mexico.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d be glad for your company. But first we need to get you well.”
June 19, 1850
Brunswick, Maine
A nna Lagrange stepped down from the carriage and looked up at the driver. “Stonemore House?”
He pointed. “Just across the green.”
“ Thank you.” Anna stepped up onto the sidewalk, followed it around the small park and along a low wrought-iron fence to a stately two-story white house with dark green trim.
She was met at the door by a black maid who eyed her suspiciously. “Can I help you?”
“ I am Anna Van Buskirk with the New York Tribune . I have an appointment with Mrs. Stowe.”
“ Mrs. Stowe didn’t say nothin’ about no lady callers.”
“ When I write I use my initials, A.M.; she may think that I’m a man.”
“ Just a moment. I needs to ask.”
“ Fine.” Anna took a fan from her sleeve and popped it open as the maid closed the door.
Two minutes later, a pale, blonde woman with sad blue eyes opened the door. “I am so dreadfully sorry. Please come in, Miss Van Buskirk.”
“ It’s Mrs. Lagrange actually.” Anna stepped into the cool entryway. “Van Buskirk is my maiden name. Mr. Greeley insisted on my using A.M. Van Buskirk in my byline.” Anna removed her right glove and offered her hand. “I’m Anna Marina Van Buskirk Lagrange. Please call me Anna.”
The other woman hesitated for a moment, then took Anna’s hand. “I’m Harriet Stowe.” She seemed rattled. “Of course you know that.” She released Anna’s hand and closed the door. “I use my maiden name too. As my pen name. That is, I use my full name.
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