He stayed in Memphis two days and walked from his hotel down to a park along the riverfront where he watched the large barges which carried cotton. There were also riverboats that moved up and down the Mississippi River carrying passengers between New Orleans and St. Louis. All of the activity was interesting to watch. Anthony was also fascinated by the large bridge that crossed the river enabling railroad and motor traffic access to both sides. It was a young city, alive with enthusiasm and anticipation. And it made Anthony feel old to watch it.
As he walked back to his hotel the second evening, he passed one of the park benches where a couple sat, looking out over the river. The man's arm was around the shoulder of the woman, holding her affectionately and to Anthony's way of thinking a little too closely for a public setting. Still, the woman didn't seem to mind. The man's hair was gray with streaks of a darker color, perhaps a dark brown. The woman, on the other hand, was obviously younger, her golden hair glowing in the light of the waning sun. She glanced up at him over the man's shoulder and it shocked Anthony to realize she was very young, younger than Edith. She laughed, a tinkling sort of sound, as she leaned over and whispered in the man's ear. The man smiled and leaned to kiss her on her cheek. As Anthony reached the steps to climb up to the street above, he turned briefly back to catch one last glimpse of the couple. They were standing now and he was surprised to realize that the man was missing an arm and was blind as well. Yet the way the young woman looked at him…could she really love a blind old cripple as much as her expression suggested? Anthony returned to his room, his mind racing and his emotions in turmoil.
That night he had another nightmare, only this time it wasn't about the war and he didn't wake screaming in fear. No, he woke sweating and full of need, his entire body throbbing with it because he had dreamed of Edith. His dream kept her face at the forefront of his mind, her dark eyes shining at him, inviting him. She was just out of reach though and his dream turned to a nightmare as he tried to get to her, needing to hold her, to possess her. The mind is a horrible thing, he decided as he sat in his bed, trying to push the dream away. The dream had begun with her fully clothed in the simple but effective green dress she had worn one evening when he had been invited for dinner just before Lady Mary's wedding. She had looked lovely that nigh, his Edith; her hair shimmered in waves and her eyes glowed as she looked at him. But her dress…it was cut just low enough to hint at the treasures just below the fabric, bits of her femininity that Anthony appreciated very much, very much indeed. None of her dresses before had confirmed what he's suspected with regards to her anatomy. Being a gentleman he'd tried, rather unsuccessfully at times, not to linger over that most pleasing aspect of her appearance. The sweet little valley that showed over the top of her dress was quite difficult to ignore. In his dream, he didn't. His mind filled in the details that had been so demurely covered in reality. Having done that, his mind had also conjured the rest of her as she might appear to him if they had been married.
Anthony groaned as the images replayed in his wakeful mind. Realizing the state he was in, he groaned even more. "My god, I haven't had this difficulty since I was a boy," he moaned. He tried to will his body into submission but it just wasn't working. The more he tried not to think of Edith, fully bare and in front of him, inviting him to her, the more the image seemed real. Finally, he rose from his bed and walked to the restroom where he splashed cold water on his face. It cooled him for a moment but only just a moment. Understanding that lying in the dark was not the answer, Anthony pulled a book he had been reading from his bag and settled in a chair by the window, the lamplight casting a warm glow over the pages as he tried to concentrate on the book and not his darling Edith. It was a long night for Anthony Strallan.
From Memphis he crossed into Arkansas, riding a train on the bridge that had captured his attention in the park. Arkansas was lush and green but largely uninhabited as far as he could tell. Roaming through the state and into Missouri, he turned west into Kansas. Eventually he stopped in Wichita. It was well into autumn by then and the weather was decidedly cooler. And there were farms surrounding the city. Perhaps he could learn something of American farming techniques, he thought. Instead of a room at a hotel, he took rooms at Mrs. Jacobson's boarding house, recommended by the locals as the cleanest beds and best grub in town.
Mrs. Jacobson was getting on in years, her gray hair tightly knotted in a bun on the back of her head, her aged eyes sharp, and she had a mouth that looked like it might smile at any moment but never quite did. As she showed the tall Englishman to a suite at the front on her second floor, she wondered how he had ended up in Kansas. Still, his mere presence would add some excitement to their lives, presenting fresh gossip for the ladies in town to chew over.
The rooms were bright and airy Anthony thought, although the furnishings looked somewhat worn. "This will do nicely, I believe," he told Mrs. Jacobson, as he glanced around again. "With your permission, I'll send to the train station for my bags and settle in tonight?"
"Fine with me," she answered gruffly. "Dinner is at 7:30. Bathroom's down the hall; everybody on this floor shares so try not to dawdle. "And er….I didn't catch your name?"
Anthony opened his mouth to reply with his standard introduction but remembered how put off some people were by his title, so he answered simply. "Anthony Strallan," he replied gently.
"Well Mr. Strallan, Mr. Jeremy Britt lives in the room next to ya and at the end of the hall is Miss Lipscomb, the school teacher. I'll tell ya like I told Mr. Britt…there'll be no funny business with Miss Lipscomb. She's respectable and be sure you treat her that way."
Surprised by the old woman's insistence, Anthony answered sincerely. "Yes, of course. I…well, I will be most respectful, I assure you." He'd rather not share his first thought with her. No woman would replace his lovely Edith in his heart. No, Miss Lipscomb had nothing to worry about from him.
"Alright then. First week's rent in advance …" she said, apparently content with the arrangements.
Anthony pulled out the proper notes and handed them to his new landlady. "Oh and where do I post a letter? Since I intend to stay for a few months, I thought I might contact my sister and let her know where I am."
"Post office is downtown. But you can put it in the box downstairs and the postman will pick it up when he comes around. I have some stamps…but … Maybe you should post it from the Post Office, since it'll be going to another country."
"Yes, quite right. Well, that'll be tomorrow's task. I believe I'll spend the rest of the day settling in here," Anthony said with a smile.
Mrs. Jacobson nodded. "I'll send Malcolm to the station for your bags then," she said as she left him in his new quarters
Anthony investigated the room quietly, opening the closet door to find adequate space for his suits. A bureau had several drawers to hold his clothes that folded. And in the corner was a small desk, far too small for him to sit comfortably for any length of time but other than an occasional note to his sister he saw no reason to use it anyway. In the corner was a comfortable chair for sitting and reading. All in all it was a satisfactory room, he reassured himself.
A few minutes later Malcolm knocked on his door. 'Mrs. Jacobson said you'd be staying a few months," he said conversationally.
"Yes…" Anthony answered distractedly as he took his bags from the younger man.
"She says you're all the way from England," the man said excitedly.
"Mmmm…..yes, …yes, England; Yorkshire to be precise."
"What's it like there?" Malcolm asked eagerly.
Something in the other man's voice caused Anthony to pause and put his case down. Looking at him, Anthony realized that while Malcolm was friendly enough, he was rather dull witted…lacking in intelligence in some manner. Understanding that, Anthony focused more closely on the man. "It is very different than here," Anthony said gently. "But very beautiful…rolling hills of lush green."
Malcolm frowned in concentration. "We got green…and there's some hills around."
"Yes, I saw as we came in one the train. And it is very pretty here. But still, different than my home. For instance, although you have quite a few trees, we have acres and acres of them."
"Oh…" Malcolm drawled.
"Tell me Malcolm, do you work for Mrs. Jacobson everyday?"
"Almost… some days she has a lot for me to do and other days…just a little," he answered happily. "But she don't let nobody work on Sundays. She says it is a day of rest."
"Yes, as it should be." Anthony agreed. "But do you suppose on one of the days when Mrs. Jacobson doesn't need you so much you could go around to some of the farms with me? I'm afraid I might get lost if I go out too far on my own and I suspect you know your way about here."
"I do," Malcolm said proudly. "And I can do that…go with you, I mean."
"Right, well….excellent then," Anthony said. "Give me two days to get settled in here and then we shall have an adventure."
Malcolm's face brightened. "An adventure….yeah, sure….two days," he said as he scurried excitedly out of the door.
As he watched Malcolm leave, Anthony wondered why he had asked the younger man to show him around. Odds are the chap wouldn't know his about any better than Anthony did but there was something about him that made Anthony want to help him.