‘‘Come on,’’ John commanded. ‘‘We’ll get over to the Appleton. Matthew can surely be of assistance. You’ve got to keep a level head, Taylor. Anything you can remember will surely help. Come along, Daughtie. Your supervisor won’t excuse you if you’re tardy.’’
The three of them rushed off toward the mill with Taylor taking the lead and Daughtie and John close on his heels. As they neared the mill yard, Daughtie grasped John’s arm and begged him to send word of any news. When he had agreed, she bid the men farewell and scurried toward the stairwell.
Taylor spotted Lawrence Gault standing near the counting-house as they grew nearer and waved to the older gentleman. ‘‘Is Mr. Cheever in his office?’’
‘‘He is, but—’’
‘‘Good!’’ Taylor shouted in return, not waiting for any further information before bursting into Matthew Cheever’s office. His mouth fell open at the sight. The outer room was already filled with several mill girls and Liam Donohue, and Miss Addie was sitting opposite Matthew’s desk. Mr. Cheever’s full attention was directed toward the older woman, but Taylor was undaunted by the sight. He strode past the others waiting in the outer office and into Matthew’s office while saying, ‘‘I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.’’
Matthew looked up as Taylor neared the desk. ‘‘Taylor, I’m—’’
Miss Addie turned in her chair. ‘‘Oh, Taylor, I’m glad you’re here. Where is Bella?’’
‘‘I don’t know. That’s why we’ve come. We need to organize a search party, and Uncle John thought this would be the place to get folks organized.’’
‘‘Oh, John, this is terribly frightening,’’ Addie said, rising from her chair. ‘‘I fear something dreadful has happened.’’
‘‘Why don’t you go on back home, Addie? You’ve done everything you can,’’ John suggested. He took her arm and led her toward the door. ‘‘I’ll keep you apprised of any news.’’
‘‘Ask Liam to step in, would you, John?’’ Matthew requested.
Taylor turned his attention to Matthew. ‘‘What’s Mr. Donohue got to do with Bella’s disappearance? Do you think the Irish are involved in these abductions?’’
‘‘No, but Liam has furnished me with some helpful information regarding the abductions—or at least we’re hoping it’s going to be helpful,’’ Matthew explained before turning his attention to Liam. ‘‘I’m sure you’ve heard enough of our conversation to realize we have another missing girl. I think we should get down to the canal. The locks begin operating at daybreak, and if they’re going to attempt transporting the girls to Boston, we’ll want to search any suspicious-looking boats or cargo.’’
John cleared his throat rather loudly. ‘‘I don’t mean to be a spoiler, Matthew, but don’t you think this is something the police should be called in on?’’
‘‘Absolutely. In fact, I’ve talked with them at some length, and they’re aware of our concerns. However, since there are only two of them, it’s impossible for them to lend much assistance. They requested our help at the waterway. I’ll explain more fully if you like, but we’d best get down to the docks. Any of you on horseback?’’
Liam gave a hearty laugh. ‘‘I don’t think anyone in the Acre owns a horse.’’
‘‘We’re afoot, also. Taylor can fetch my horses from the livery if you think we’ll need them,’’ John offered. ‘‘It won’t take long.’’
Matthew shook his head back and forth. ‘‘No. My horse is tied out back, so I’ll ride ahead. The rest of you follow as quickly as possible,’’ he said before moving to the outer office, where two girls still sat waiting. ‘‘Unless you have a missing person to report, you’ll need to return later in the day. We’ve an emergency to tend to right now,’’ Matthew told the mill girls as he opened the front door. He turned back toward the men. ‘‘I’ll meet you near the loading dock by the millpond. It will probably take all four of us to inspect the boats preparing for departure.’’
Taylor was filled with a sense of mounting distress as they hurried off toward the wharf. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath. If he was going to find Bella, he needed clarity of thought, he decided as they finally approached the millpond. Without warning, he put voice to unbidden words that had mysteriously exploded in his mind. ‘‘I think we should pray.’’
The other three men stopped, turned, and stared at him as though he’d spoken in some unknown tongue.
He wondered if his words had been offensive. When none of them replied, he hastened to add, ‘‘If that would be all right with you.’’ John reached out and placed an arm around Taylor’s shoulder. ‘‘You make me ashamed of myself, Taylor. I should have suggested prayer immediately. Yet it gives me great pleasure to know that you are beginning to place your trust in God rather than man. Gentlemen?’’
Taylor silently communicated his own prayer for Bella as his uncle prayed aloud. The supplication took only a minute—it was a simple plea for help—yet Taylor felt more at peace. Bella’s faith was strong, and surely she must be praying, too. Perhaps with the unification of their utterances, God would pause and assist them. A childish thought, perhaps, but it gave him added hope. He momentarily considered bartering with God but then decided God might frown upon such a concept. Bella would have an opinion on that idea. He’d discuss it with her once she was safely home.
‘‘Taylor, you can go ahead and search this boat. Liam, you take that one,’’ Matthew ordered while pointing where they were to go. ‘‘I’m going to talk to George West. He’s in charge of the canal and locks this morning.’’
‘‘Whadd’ya think you’re doing? Get off this boat,’’ a rough-looking man hollered as Taylor jumped aboard his boat.
‘‘Nothing to be concerned about. We have permission to search all boats carrying cargo or passengers to Boston.’’
The man ran a dirty hand through his greasy unkempt hair before arching a stream of tobacco juice into the air that landed directly on Taylor’s right shoe. ‘‘Since when?’’
The other man working on the boat gave a snort.
Taylor looked down at his foot in disgust. Rolling his hand into a fist, he used his thumb to point toward Mr. West. ‘‘If you’ve got a problem, take it up with the man in charge. He says we’ve got permission, and so do the police. Now, you want to get out of my way? ’Cause if you don’t, I’m going to guess it’s because you’ve got something on this boat that ought not be here and you figure I’m going to find it. Could that be the problem, mister?’’
‘‘You talk mighty big. We’ll see how big you are when you’re alone in town someday.’’
Taylor knew the threat was intended to intimidate him, but it served only to make him angrier than he already was. ‘‘Why wait? You think you’re man enough to take me on, then let’s get to it.’’
‘‘Taylor! We’re not here for pugilistic entertainment,’’ John called out. ‘‘Get busy and search that cargo. There are three more boats already loaded.’’
His uncle was right. They couldn’t afford to waste time. Bella’s life could be at risk, and he was acting like a schoolboy who needed to impress the other children in the play yard. He turned away from the man and began moving among the crates and barrels, moving them about and prying off lids while the two men spat curses in his direction.
The second man was following Taylor closely, hammering lids back down where needed and attempting to direct his path, or so it seemed to Taylor. Finally the man appeared to have lost all patience. ‘‘Look here, mate, you’ve gone through everything and found nothing out of order. Now get off the boat and let us be on our way.’’
Taylor surveyed the boat and glanced toward the center of the boat, where the one mast stood ready to hoist a sail when needed. ‘‘I’ve not gone through the goods stowed over there by your sail.’’
‘‘Ain’t nothing but some of the same what you’ve already seen.’’
Taylor gave the man an unswerving stare. ‘‘Then you’ve got nothing to be conce
rned about. The quicker we get done, the quicker you can be on your way,’’ he said while tugging to move the deflated canvas sail.
Just then the first man rushed toward him. ‘‘Hey! Don’t mess with that sail!’’ the man commanded as he shoved Taylor off balance, causing him to fall backward. He landed heavily on a row of rolled-up carpets, immediately thankful it hadn’t been the pitchforks he’d found a short time earlier. He slowly began to lift himself up, then shook his head in wonder as two of the carpets appeared to wriggle back and forth.
‘‘Seems to be a bit of turbulence in the water. Things is jostling about.’’
Taylor stared up at the man. ‘‘We’re sitting dead still in a millpond. The only turbulence is right here in these carpets.’’ He began to tug the edge of one of the rugs and heard a muffled noise.
‘‘Uncle John! Over here!’’
The scruffy boatman yanked at Taylor’s arm. ‘‘Get away from there! You’ve got no right.’’
Taylor pulled free and yanked at the carpet. He saw two feet and then rope-bound ankles. Bella! It must be her. He looked up at his uncle, who was holding one of the men at bay while Liam held on to the other. Matthew rushed forward to help him. A torso appeared and then two bound arms—and then a face. But it wasn’t Bella’s face.
Working feverishly, they loosened the gag around the girl’s head and then unbound her arms and legs. She flung about like a fish let loose on dry ground. ‘‘And for sure, I thought I was gonna die.’’ The words spurted out in short gasps. ‘‘I could barely breathe with that carpet rolled about me.’’ Her red hair flew about wildly as she lunged toward one of her abductors.
Matthew and Taylor let the other two men contend with the Irish girl and her temper. They unfurled carpet after carpet. They had now released seven girls, each one gasping for air and flailing for freedom as her bindings were loosed. Taylor stared down at the last roll of carpet. Please, God, let it be Bella, he silently prayed.
The two men tugged on the edge of the rug until they saw evidence of one more girl, whose feet and wrists were bound just as they had seen with the others. But this time the girl didn’t shout with relief when her gag was loosened; this time the girl didn’t flail about or jump to her feet. This time the girl lay perfectly still; this time the girl was Bella.
This time Taylor screamed in agony.
CHAPTER 36
Lilly Cheever grasped the fullness of her skirts, lifting the hem from the muck that lined the narrow winding path. She took careful steps, attempting to secure her footing in the slimy mess. Her walking boots were already covered with filth, and now a wiry-haired dog was yapping and nipping at her skirts as it circled her at a dizzying pace. Unfortunately, her attempts to shoo away the dog had only caused the animal to bark more incessantly.
A stooped old woman with a tattered shawl wrapped around her bent shoulders hoisted a bucketful of waste into the street, barely missing Lilly as she passed by. ‘‘What ya doin’ in this part o’ town?’’ The woman’s voice was laced with a heavy Irish brogue. Piercing blue eyes that seemed strangely out of place were set deep in the ancient leathery face that had been marked with the countless creases of a hard life.
Lilly stopped and turned to face the woman, feeling out of place in her fur-collared mantle and morning dress of floral challis. ‘‘I’m looking for Noreen Gallagher’s home. I was told it was down this path to the left. Is that correct?’’ She gave the woman a gentle smile. ‘‘I’d be willing to pay for the information.’’
The woman’s eyes seemed to cut to her soul as she appraised Lilly for a moment before answering. ‘‘Hold to the left at the fork. Third door on the right,’’ she replied and then held out her withered hand for payment.
Lilly dug into her lozenge-shaped velvet reticule and pulled out a coin. The woman’s eyes brightened at the sight of the money as Lilly placed it in her hand. She clasped her bony fingers around the coin and then quickly disappeared behind her door as though she feared Lilly would snatch the money away from her.
The fork in the road was only a short distance away, and the mangy dog had now departed to chase after a wandering chicken rather than her skirts. She continued onward, picking her way through the litter-strewn pathway until she stood in front of Noreen Gallagher’s door. What kind of reception awaits me behind that dilapidated door? she wondered. Fear would win if she remained there any longer.
She knocked—three firm raps—and waited. The door scraped open, the bottom of the board digging into the dirt floor before revealing an unkempt woman with matted hair and yellowed broken teeth. ‘‘Noreen Gallagher?’’ Lilly ventured.
‘‘And who’d be wantin’ to know?’’
‘‘I’m Lilly Cheever, and I wondered if I might have a word with you.’’
The woman fidgeted for a moment, running her fingers through her reddish-brown mass of greasy hair before answering.
‘‘What for? I ain’t done nothin’ to bring the likes of ya into the Acre.’’
‘‘I’ve come to inquire about Kathryn O’Hanrahan’s child.’’
Noreen’s fingers immediately locked around Lilly’s wrist. ‘‘Who says Kathryn ever had a child?’’ she hissed. The woman’s eyes reflected a jittery mix of surprise, fear, and curiosity as she pulled Lilly forward into the hovel.
Lilly swallowed down her fear and croaked, ‘‘Liam Donohue.’’
‘‘Liam!’’ The woman loosened her grip on Lilly’s arm. ‘‘That traitorous man. Did he tell ya he wasn’t possessed of enough manhood to tell me to me face that ’e was movin’ out? And now it seems he’s taken to spreadin’ false rumors.’’
The smell inside was putrid, a farrago of every foul odor Lilly could imagine. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket but then thought the better of placing it over her nose and mouth. Most likely the woman would take offense. ‘‘Your sister didn’t have a child? Oh, please, this is very important.’’
Noreen held up an empty bottle. ‘‘How important?’’
‘‘I’m willing to pay for the information, and I promise no harm will come to you nor the child.’’
Noreen’s lips curled into a wicked grin, her broken yellow teeth resembling the ruins of a city wall. ‘‘If I should be decidin’ to tell ya anythin’, there best be nothin’ but good come from the use o’ me words. Otherwise, I’ll place a curse on ya that’ll take the life of that child ya’re carryin’ in yar belly.’’
Lilly shivered at the threat. ‘‘If I tell you why I have an interest in the child, perhaps you’d be reconciled to helping me.’’
Noreen nodded and pointed at a broken-down wooden chair. ‘‘We’ll see. Sit down.’’
Lilly carefully lowered herself into the chair, not certain it was capable of holding her weight without collapsing to the floor. Once seated and somewhat assured that the chair was stable, Lilly began to carefully explain the events surrounding her brother’s untimely death. She told of his dying declaration concerning the existence of a child, a boy with a mushroom-shaped birthmark, and her determination to find the boy, although she remained silent regarding her journey to Canterbury.
‘‘Yar brother’s name?’’
‘‘Lewis. Lewis Armbruster.’’
Noreen slowly wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘Me sister never mentioned anyone by the name o’ Armbruster to me. ’Course, that’s not to say she didn’t know ’im, ’cause I can’t say that for sure. But Cullan is not yar brother’s child. He was sired by William Thurston, and of that there is no doubt. For reasons I never understood, me sister believed that one day Thurston would leave ’is wife and marry ’er. Such nonsense! I told her so, too, but she wouldn’t listen. William Thurston did nothin’ but use her, and ’e was angry as a bull seein’ red when Kathryn told ’im she was givin’ him a babe—like he had nothin’ to do with it.’’
‘‘Did he accept the boy as his offspring?’’
The Irish woman’s lips curled in disgust. ‘‘He didn’t like it none, but when he sa
w the birthmark, ’e knew. Besides, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew Kathryn hadn’t been with other men. Kathryn said sometimes ’e was kind to the boy, but mostly not. I think Kathryn knew he’d never accept the lad. In fact, she told me should anything ever ’appen to her, she feared for the child’s life. When she died, I figured Cullan would be safer outside of the Acre.’’
Lilly nodded. ‘‘And you took him to the Shaker Village in Canterbury.’’
Noreen jumped up from her chair and was leaning over Lilly. ‘‘How’d ya know that?’’
‘‘Purely coincidence, Mrs. Gallagher, but I’ve been to Canterbury to see the boy. They named him David but mentioned he had been known as Cullan.’’
Noreen’s face softened slightly. ‘‘Is ’e well? How’d ’e look?’’
‘‘He appeared very well. He was neat and clean, obviously well nurtured—a fetching child,’’ Lilly related. ‘‘I’m curious why you took him to Canterbury. You’re obviously not of the same religious beliefs.’’
Noreen cackled and clapped her hands. ‘‘No. I doubt ya’ll find many Irish among them Shakers. Odd sort of people, what little I saw of ’em, but I told Kathryn when the lad was born that if anything ever ’appened to her, I’d make certain the babe didn’t come to any harm. I didn’t think he’d be safe with me—figured if William Thurston heard tell I had a young boy living with me, he’d figure out soon enough the child was his and come after ’im.’’
Lilly remained silent, her gaze fixed upon Noreen’s rough hands, the dirty fingers laced together as if in prayer. She didn’t want to believe this woman’s story. Lilly had fought against the idea the child could belong to anyone other than Lewis since she’d heard Liam Donohue’s tale. But Matthew had willingly believed every word he’d been told. And as far as Lilly’s husband was concerned, the matter was resolved—not that she hadn’t attempted to resurrect the topic at every given opportunity. But Matthew always managed to change the subject. Today, she’d had no choice but to take matters into her own hands.
A Fragile Design Page 35
