Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama)

by Rachel Cartwright

  A small smile curved the corners of Philip’s creased mouth as he examined the tips of his white serving gloves. “If I may say so, sir, you should be more concerned about your own business and leave that foolishness alone. When I was in charge of your father’s house, he could make a gentleman’s agreement at his parties with just a smile and a handshake.”

  He dusted off the shoulders of Bret’s crumpled jacket. “You were just a sleepin’ baby—no more than knee-high to a nipple—but now, you’re a man who’s got to keep his eyes wide open all the time. That McGowan smile and handshake helped your daddy out of more fixes but—”

  Bret stepped away from the old colored man and brushed off the front of his own jacket. “And in the end, that’s all he had left.” He strode toward the front door. Bret paused to study the burnt and corroded brass plate where once his family’s engraved name appeared clearly as though it was a commandment to be obeyed before entering.

  It was the same plate from their first home in Cooke County. After moving to Galveston during the uncertain years of the Reconstruction, Bret’s mother was firm in her belief that her son should view the plate crest as a symbol of honor and sacrifice. To her, it signified his father’s fortitude and determination, just as the raised foundations of their new family home promised fresh abundance and wealth.

  Bret scratched the mottled black metal with his fingernail. He’d ask the workman for a new, polished brass plate before the party. This one seemed better suited now for the lid of a coffin.

  CHAPTER 9

  Thursday, August 30

  The air behind the closed drapes of the Theogenesis lecture auditorium hung as inert and heavy as the material that concealed the stage. Doctor Caden Augustus Hellreich steadied his breathing and concentrated on the task before him. He parted the drapes behind the lectern and peered out at the audience.

  The lecture hall was filled to capacity. At least two hundred men and women and not a seat empty that he could see.

  His serious and dedicated personal assistant, Edward Wallace, stood by the open doors waiting for his signal as several other male followers escorted people to the few remaining empty seats. Arley sat in the front row with his business associates to his left, and . . .

  Caden drew a breath, remembering her photograph. It was her. Yes, the alluring and fetching Gabrielle Caldwell seated on his right. It could be no other. Photographs do not do her the justice she deserves. Caden raised his hand. Edward nodded and greeted the last guest before closing the front door.

  Arley glanced up to where he was standing and tapped the bowl of his pipe against the side of his chair.

  Caden nodded to his generous benefactor and stepped back from the drapes to complete his final mental preparations. He parted the drapes and strode across the podium to the sound of polite applause. Standing behind the lectern, he gazed out at the doubting, troubled faces of men searching for answers to questions they were afraid to ask. Caden smiled respectfully at Gabrielle and tipped his head in admiration.

  Blushing in response, she adverted her eyes as she touched the lacy frilled collar of her peach, silk blouse.

  So it is with each new suitor, even the most exquisite and charming. Emotion must be mastered by reason if the higher faculties were to prevail. Caden opened the first of two well-worn, leather bound books to his favorite passage. Although he could recite it word for word from memory, he preferred to glance at it quickly each time to glean a fresh abstract of meaning appropriate to a new audience.

  He placed the tip of his index finger on the first word. Looking up he gazed out at the people before him. “Friends, neighbors, and fellow citizens of higher moral virtue, believe me when I say there is no storm with more fury than the one that rages in the soul of a race.”

  Caden fixed his penetrating stare on the Gabrielle and her father. “Almost thirty years ago in The Descent of Man, Charles Darwin wrote: ‘At some future period, not very distant . . . the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate and replace the savage races throughout the world. At the same time the anthropomorphous apes will no doubt be exterminated . . .’”

  He glanced over at a black haired, olive-skinned man sitting in the front row beside Arley. A young Mexican or Cuban no doubt, he kept glancing at Gabrielle in a most overly friendly way that irritated Caden and sparked an immediate pang of jealously. He cleared his throat. “‘The break between man and his nearest allies will be wider, for it will intervene between man in a more civilized state. We may hope that it will be the Caucasian and some ape as low as a baboon, instead of as now, between the Negro . . . and the gorilla.’”

  The slight, young man with an uncommon pallor who had introduced himself as ‘Mr. Hadlee Sterne Foster’ and a friend of Arley’s earlier in the evening, held his hat in his hand and jabbed it toward the doctor. “All this talk lately about apes and monkeys. We’re civilized, Christian men—Texans, for God’s sake. It’s sacrilegious!”

  Someone coughed at the back of the lecture hall. A well-dressed man rose to his feet and cleared his throat. His face was unfamiliar to Caden yet something about his presence demanded closer scrutiny.

  The stranger held his hat in his hand and gestured toward Hadlee Foster. “My friend is right.” People twisted in their seats to watch him speak. “You speak as if we’re no better than the cannibal Indians that used to live around here. You talk of progress but from what I’ve read, sir, you believe that most of us are still no better than savages.”

  Caden turned the page of his book and lowered his gaze upon the tall, well-built man with stern, pale features. “Excellent point, sir. I assure you and Mr. Foster, it is precisely because much of humanity is in the process of reverting to the ways of races like the Attacapa that men of the highest moral courage and character are needed for the difficult challenges that lay before us in the next century.”

  He picked up his glass of water, sipped, and waited. Satisfied with the silence, he placed the glass down. “And my friend, we would not be debating the point if I thought you incapable of rising to the task.”

  Caden paused and glimpsed Gabrielle raising a pink handkerchief to cover her smile. Her gaze seemed intensely focused on the stranger as though he was the only man in the room.

  The stranger raised his head. “And who will lead us in the next century? Men like you or will men and women still have the freedom to choose the way God intended?”

  Caden gripped both sides of the lectern and focused his concentration on the others. It was not often he engaged in a spirited debate with an audience member so early in a lecture but this intrusive gentleman had long enough turned their eyes and ears away from the podium. “Yes, but we cannot do this alone, gentlemen. Women will play the crucial role in obtaining our social and humanitarian objectives in the twentieth century. I would now like to turn your attention to this vital issue.”

  “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

  Caden dug his fingers into his palms. “I will, sir, if you will be kind enough to allow me to continue.”

  People shifted around in their seats and all attention returned to Caden at the podium. Gabrielle lowered her handkerchief and leaned forward, her eyes beaming with eagerness and curiosity. He noted her reaction and smiled as he opened another weathered volume.

  Caden slapped his fingers down on the first page. “I return again, ladies and gentlemen, to the words of Thomas Malthus when he wrote, ‘First, that food is necessary to the existence of man; Secondly, that the passion between the sexes is necessary, and will remain nearly in its present state.’”

  He spoke at length in a candid style, yet was always aware of according the highest respect and dignity to Gabrielle and the other women present so that each man knew this was not a carnal discussion better suited to a poker game in a brothel.

  Caden finished the first part of his lecture with a condemnation of those he felt most responsible for inciting these lewd emotions in the first place. “These newspaper men are only
interested in stirring the emotions of impressionable, uneducated young ladies with lies and half-truths. On the other hand . . .” He clutched the lectern again and thrust forward, looking directly down at the stranger still standing at the back of the hall. “Being a rational man, I know that you have little difficulty in tearing apart their flimsy webs of deception and falsehood.”

  The stranger ran his fingers around the brim of his hat. He looked at Gabrielle for a moment as though expecting her to come to say something in his defense.”

  “Sit down, Bret,” Arley said. “That was a bigger compliment from a stranger than you’ll ever hear from a friend.” The audience erupted with laughter and the man, his pale face now the shade of sunburn, tried his best to take it all in stride.

  Caden waited for the levity to subside then stepped to the side of the lectern, clasping his hands behind his back. “I do not mince words when I say that the aim of any effective government eugenics policy is to give the more advanced races a better chance of prevailing permanently over the less suitable. And that, ladies and gentlemen . . .”

  He closed both books with a distinct slap of the pages. “. . . is a policy America cannot ignore if we hope to survive and triumph over the impending conflicts that are sure to rise like whirlwinds of strife and destruction in the new millennium. It is to this end that I have dedicated my life through the international work of the Theogenesis Society.”

  A stout, primly dressed matron stood from several rows back. “We should not be so quick to dismiss what Mr. McGowan said.” She edged her way out into the aisle. “Are you saying, sir, that you favor scientific and medical means for altering what our Lord and creator has made?”

  She held up a Bible. “We are all good Christian women and men. Where is it written in the good book any truth to what you’ve said?’

  Murmurs of concurrence and suspicion filled the hall. Caden paused for a few moments, scrutinizing the questioning faces of Gabrielle and the others in the front row.

  He judged the impact of what he wanted to say then chose his words carefully from the notes he had written in the margins. Everything would depend on these next words out of his mouth. “The heavens declare the glory of God.” He spread his arms and raised his hands toward the ceiling. “And the firmament showeth his handywork.”

  The plump woman lowered her Bible and the hall fell silent.

  Caden took a breath and gazed around at the somber, awed faces. He lowered his arms, gripped the lectern with one hand and pointed with the other. “Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding.”

  The stout matron lowered her fleshy face until her chin seemed to disappear into the folds of her neck. Without looking up she answered. “For we know in part and we prophesy in part.”

  Caden acknowledged her with a solemn nod and stepped away from the lectern toward the center of the stage. “But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known.”

  The tiresome old woman smiled as if she were in the presence of the Savior himself. “Praise be to the Lord and the wonder of his works.” She sat down and clasped her Bible to her heaving bosom.

  Caden opened his arms in a gesture of welcome and embrace. “Yes, brothers and sisters. As God is my witness, I stand here before all of you, to declare that we are here to ensure that the creator’s work is carried out according to his divine plan, and that by any means necessary, we will work to remove those who threaten enlightened mankind’s true dominion over Earth.”

  Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder as though she was trying to catch a glimpse of the man at the back of the room. A few moments later, Arley and his young Cuban associate rose to their feet, leading the audience in a uniform wave of standing ovation with such a force of unchecked exultation that it caused Caden to step back in astonishment.

  After acknowledging their applause and admiration with a self-effacing bow and humble smile, Caden strode down the steps to welcome his new converts. Although everyone was eager to shake his hand, he noticed the sharply dressed stranger quickly exiting through the front doors.

  His familiar irritation flamed, sparked by his unease and discomfort of having seen the man’s grim expression. Ahh, well, that was to be expected. Not every member of the flock can be so easily tamed without first using the staff.

  Caden searched the audience for Gabrielle’s charming face. To his dismay he only managed to glimpse her welcoming smile and entrancing eyes before she departed on the arm of her father through the front door. What was the meaning of this? Didn’t Arley promise that they would be properly introduced? He would find the reason and introduce himself before they rode away. Caden took a few steps toward the door but was stopped by the olive-skinned young man.

  “Doctor Hellreich?”

  Caden looked down at the stranger. It was the same one who had been gaping at Gabrielle all evening during his lecture. Caden narrowed his eyes, confirming his initial assessment of the stranger’s ancestry.

  The man’s black hair was combed back with tonic so that his skull resembled an ape with its stumpy and pinched contours. The eyes, dim and diminutive, reeled in their murky and timid sockets. His dwarfish nose spread out over to the edges of his broad, wan lips.

  Caden’s quick assessment of the interloper was confirmed by the florid tie and red-striped shirt that did little to draw attention away from the dappled hues of his oily skin. Caden lowered his gaze. Perhaps it was for the best. He would meet Miss Caldwell under more private and intimate circumstances. “I’m sorry. Have we been introduced, sir?

  “Timothy . . . ah, Timothy DeRocha, Doctor.” He stepped forward and shoved out his hand and shook Caden’s. “I can’t tell you what an inspiration it has been to hear you speak!”

  Caden saw Edward moving toward them through the departing crowd. It was always a comfort to know that Edward—like a dedicated and obedient soldier—would protect him at all costs.

  He admired his methodical and devoted assistant. Younger than himself by ten years, Edward had been patient long enough. Caden knew he must soon decide if he was worthy of fulfilling his unquestioning commitment to mankind’s greater good or continue the search for more suitable candidates.

  Caden gestured casually with his hand. Edward stopped, folded his hands behind his back, and waited for his next instruction. “Thank you for your generous praise, sir. Mr. DeRocha,” Caden answered, paying only scant attention. “You have the relaxed, natural voice quality of your colleagues. I would think it must have been difficult, considering your . . . heritage.”

  The man’s smile broadened. “I thank my parents, sir, for sending me to the best New England schools. They were determined that I have the best opportunities. I can neither speak nor understand Spanish, and I am proud of that.”

  He stepped closer to the doctor. “My family has always been true patriots of the Republic. As far back as General Santa Anna, they fought against—”

  Caden raised his hand in a serene gesture to quiet the man. “Yes, yes, certainly. Your patriotism is not in doubt, Mr. DeRocha.”

  “Please, call me Tim. My friends do.”

  “Of course, Tim. If only your other friends would have shown such a keen interest in the discussion after the lecture, yet some decided to leave early.”

  The young man took off his hat and squeezed it in his hand. “You mean Bret McGowan? I tell you sir he’s no friend of mine.”

  Caden’s breathing quickened. He glanced to the back of the auditorium hoping he might see the stranger again so that he could see his face clearly. “McGowan, you say? That’s a name I haven’t heard in many years.”

  “And if he had stayed away we’d never have to hear it again.” Timothy turned and wat
ched the assistants escorting people to the front door. “I . . . I was very interested in what you said about—” He covered his mouth and coughed. “Women.”

  The perturbed gentleman turned back to Caden. “Can we speak?” he lowered his voice, “somewhere else?”

  “Do my assistants make you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No, but it is concerning a dear friend of mine, Gabrielle Caldwell.”

  At the sound of her name after the mention of Bret McGowan, Caden felt his acute discomfort flare. He straightened and took another deep breath. “I see. This way, please.” He walked the young man to the back of the stage.

  Caden parted the curtain and led the way to a door leading to a pleasant parlor room at the rear. “Please, sit down, and help yourself to whatever you wish. My man, Edward, is quite the culinary expert.”

  He seated his guest at an ornate cherry wood table on which fruit and cold meats were spread out on silver trays beside crystal decanters of scotch, bourbon, and cognac.

  His guest immediately filled his plate with a small mound of food.

  “You have a hearty appetite, Tim,” Caden observed, “I only hope your mind is as eager to acquire the sustenance it needs as is your body.”

  “Certainly, Doctor Hellreich. That is why I wish to speak with you.”

  He poured the young man a glass of bourbon. “I see. A plan of such far-reaching implications for humanity requires men who are intellectually and morally disciplined; soldiers of science, if you will, and women.”

  “The procreators of progress,” Timothy interrupted, recalling Caden’s phrase perfectly. He grinned and took another sip of his bourbon.

  “Very good. You listen, sir, and you learn. A virtuous woman is the great appetite of every man’s soul, but the furtive rendezvous and ill-fated romances of the past will no longer serve our species.”