Authors: Shirley Martin
Alarm chilled her stomach, but she recovered quickly.
"Nonsense.
I was merely thinking about the children at the orphanage, where I spent several hours today. They're such a pleasure, and I flatter myself that they enjoy my company, too."
"You'd better be telling the truth." His face assumed a look of cruel cunning. "If you're lying . . ."
"Get your mind out of the gutter, William. Who are you to talk about taking a
lover!
"
His eyes narrowed. "So what do you intend to do while I'm gone?"
As if she needed his company! "Not that it's any of your business, but I may stay with
Elizabeth
for a few days. She's been asking me to since
Lawrence
is still in
New York
."
William threw her a look of angry disappointment, as though sorry he'd been deprived of an argument. "Very well, then. Just so we understand each other."
Divorce.
Say it now. What can you lose?
She took a deep breath. “William, why don’t we divorce? Why–“
”What!”
“Why do we continue with this charade of a marriage when neither of us is happy?” Her heart pounded, but she would persevere. “Give me a divorce, William.”
“So you
have
taken a lover.” He snickered. “I should have known.”
“No, I haven’t, but you are the last person to accuse me. What do you gain from this marriage? Why continue, when–“
”Because that’s how I want it.
I need a hostess, someone to help me entertain–“
”To make you look respectable when all the time you have your mistresses–“
”A man’s prerogative, my dear.
It is the way of the world.”
“And you would condemn us both to unhappiness, rather than obtain a divorce?”
“You’re the one who is complaining. My life is fine, as it is.”
After a curt nod, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Lisa leaned back in her chair, willing the tension from her body. Elbows on her desk, she buried her face in her hands, wanting to weep. But crying would solve nothing, would not deliver her from this appalling excuse of a marriage, nor bring Owen any closer. Sitting up straight, she switched her mind to more positive thoughts. She saw her chance to go to
Homestead
, no matter how crazy the idea. She sensed--knew--something momentous, something crucial was about to happen there. The word was out that the vice chairman had hired Pinkerton guards to keep the mill open for non-union labor. The Amalgamated would never stand for that, and what would happen then? She didn't know, but she had to be with Owen.
* * *
"
Homestead
!"
Elizabeth
's eyes widened with shock. "Are you sure you want to go there, Lisa?"
"No question about it. I have a feeling--call it womanly intuition, if you like--that something big will happen there, and soon. I want to be with Owen when it does."
"But you don't even know his address, do you? And would you stay with him if you did?"
Elizabeth
asked with a teasing smile.
She returned the smile. "I might. But surely even
Homestead
has a hotel. I'll stay there and use that as my starting point. And from there, well, if I have to roam every street in the borough, I'll do it." Despite her inner excitement, she saw the humor in the notion. "Surely the superintendent has addresses of all the workers. It should be easy enough to discover
Owen's
address, and I wouldn't care if Mr. Potter wondered why I wanted to know. I can make up some story. I'm getting pretty good at that," she added as bitterness crept into her voice.
With calm deliberation, Lisa folded her hands in her lap.
"Enough about
Homestead
.
I can't continue with my marriage, so I intend to ask
Lawrence
to help me obtain a divorce. As much as it pains me, you might as well tell your husband about my empty marriage, that William has never taken me to bed. Go ahead. You have my permission. So whenever he returns from
New York--
"
"That may be longer than I expected,"
Elizabeth
said. "His client has legal complications."
Affecting an attitude of serene acceptance, Lisa tried to hide her disappointment. "I'm willing to wait. Anything is worth it to be rid of this hateful marriage."
"Oh, I agree. Who can blame you for wanting to? And after what you told me about that so-called husband of yours and that . . . that orgy . . . well, for once in my life, I'm speechless."
"How could I have been so naive?" Lisa asked, her voice rising. "Why couldn't I have seen what would have been so obvious to anyone else? Of course, he's had other women! I can see that now."
"Don't be too hard on yourself. Precious little we women know about marriage and such. All we know is what our mothers or husbands tell us." She sat upright on the sofa. "So when will you leave for
Homestead
?"
"Tomorrow.
I've already packed my trunk."
"Your housekeeper--what have you told her?"
Lisa smiled self-consciously. "I told her I'd be staying with you."
"That sounds logical."
Elizabeth
paused. "Dear friend, I hate to ask this question, but what if you don't find Owen?"
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, if you'll forgive the trite expression." She brightened. "I'm sure I'll find him. And I shall go to the superintendent for his address, if all else fails."
"Good for you! My dearest wish is that you find Owen."
My wish too, Lisa thought with dreamy anticipation. She had to see Owen again, have him take her in his arms, kiss her until they both went out of their minds. As passion stirred inside her, she imagined his lips on hers, his hands on her body. How in the world could she wait!
Chapter Fourteen
Ugly.
Lisa had never seen such dreariness anywhere or such grim despair among any people. Even the Carnegie Hotel was most dismal, so grimy its carpeting was imbedded with dirt. Anxious to escape its drab atmosphere, she slipped on her gray poplin dress and straw boater, then set out to explore the small borough with the faint hope that somehow, somewhere, she might find Owen. Carefully gathering her skirts, she took cautious steps along the dusty streets as she wandered through alleys that stretched aimlessly through the town . . . .
Several hours later, she returned to the hotel, where she flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. How in God's name would she ever find Owen? A wave of loneliness swept over her, coupled with regret for what might have been if she'd never married William.
Just the same, she sensed
Owen's
presence, as if he were with her now. She could hear his husky voice, could see his smile,
visualize
his every gesture. If he came for her now to take her to the ends of the earth, willingly would she go with him, asking no
questions.
His love enfolded her like a warm cloak. He was hers, and she was his, forever.
She sat up, determined to dispel her dejection. For now, she'd forget she was married, forget she lived in Shadyside, or that he lived in
Homestead
, a dirty steel town. If she really stretched her imagination, she could even pretend that true happiness might be theirs.
* * *
The barge,
The Monongahela
, drifted along on its namesake, its destination unknown to most of the passengers. John
Holway
narrowed his eyes in the hazy darkness as he looked across the barge's railing. Why in the world had he signed up for this job with the Pinkerton Detective Agency when he had no idea what the job entailed? I must have completely lost my
senses,
he agonized as he studied the other passengers, wondering what went through their minds.
To be sure, he'd been apprehensive, and now his suspicions were confirmed. He pressed his finger to his nose, the stench of the river making his eyes water. All around him on the narrow deck, he heard angry mutterings as others cursed the detective agency.
A fellow passenger joined him. "Have you any idea where we're going?"
"
Homestead
,"
Holway
replied without hesitation.
"Where else?"
He peered over the railing, where clouds of fog drifted across the water. He squinted, unable to see a thing. "I suspected
Homestead
from the very first, when I boarded the train in
Chicago
."
The other man spat into the murky river. "Then why did you sign up with Pinkerton? Are you a strikebreaker?"
Holway
jerked his head around, giving the man a long, level look.
"Certainly not!
I joined up with Pinkerton no doubt for the same reason you did--I needed the money. I'm working my way through medical school." He scanned the filthy water again, peering as far as he could see--at first, not more than ten feet. "Look!" He pointed to the bright lights that loomed ahead in the early morning darkness. "That must be
Pittsburgh
!"
Through the thick fog, the lights of
Pittsburgh
shone across the Monongahela, forming a muted intaglio on the water.
The Monongahela
and its twin barge,
The Iron Mountain
, crept stealthily through the pitch blackness. Soon tugboats joined them to tow the barges across the river toward
Homestead
.
* * *
As the barges approached the
Smithfield
Street
Bridge
in
Pittsburgh
, a union lookout strained his eyes in the murky haze, then blinked and looked again. There! No question about it. Dim red and green lights headed his way. The lookout hurried to the telegraph shack where he wired the union: "Watch the river. Steamers and barges left here." He wondered how long it would take the barges to reach
Homestead
. Never mind! He raced on in the same direction, not wanting to miss the action.
At the Electric Light Works in
Homestead
, Owen waited with Jack Crawford, another union leader, both men expecting a message from the union lookout any minute now. When the message rattled over the telegraph wires, Owen clapped Jack on the shoulder.
"That's it! The
Pinkertons
are almost here."
Jack yanked the steam whistle, its moaning sound indicating a river landing. The sound electrified the town. Windows slid up; front doors opened. A mounted sentry clattered across the
Pemickey
bridge
a la Paul Revere. "The
Pinkertons
are coming!"
* * *
On board
The Monongahela
the hired men cursed and muttered profanities, pointing to the lights of
Pittsburgh
, aware now of their fate. A strange and unexpected sound breached the commotion on the deck. John
Holway
spun around to see the officers inside the barge pry crates open and hand out Winchesters and revolvers to the men. Most of the men refused the weapons. They hadn't signed on with Pinkerton to kill! The young medical student grimaced as he realized his worst fear.
Homestead
it was.
The tugboats brought both barges in front of the entrance to the
Homestead
mill and deliberately ran both scows aground with a soft, crunching sound.
Journey's end for the
Pinkertons
.