A/N: So sorry about the posting delay. This week was sad and overwhelming and difficult.
OHIO
Circe's Island
(Part 1)
Ben watched with interest the crew of men as they set the gangway in place.
Cincinnati.
Hard to believe it was the same city. He hefted his modest carpetbag as the crewman gestured for the passengers to come forward and disembark - ladies first, of course. How long ago had it been since he had set foot in Ohio? 1833. Over seventeen years.
He waited his turn patiently. The train for Cleveland didn't leave until 2:30 and he had no other plans except for a trip to the telegraph office. His heart bumped at the thought, but he looked out over the river, forcing himself to steady it.
No sense in borrowing trouble. He would know soon enough.
He finally made his way down the gangway, one of the last in line, touching his hat pleasantly to the crewman assisting passengers onto the dock. The wind off the river was stiff but pleasant and the street that ran alongside it was bursting with sound and color. He strolled along it, admiring the bustle and energy. What he needed now was directions to the telegraph office. He gazed about him, wondering who it would be best to ask, then paused, frowning.
Was that - ? Yes, apparently it was.
He made his way toward one of the benches facing a view of the river and removed his hat politely. "Mrs. Chambers?"
The woman started in surprise and then smiled up at him. "Why, Mr. Cartwright! I wondered who could be calling me by my name in this strange town!"
He glanced about her, but she seemed to be alone. "Where is Mr. Chambers?"
She laughed lightly. "Oh, Lyle. He had a business meeting. I could have gone with him if I wanted, but I've never been to Cincinnati before and I thought it would be nicer to sit here in the air and look about. It's a very exciting town, isn't it? I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it."
"Yes - yes, it's very nice - but you shouldn't be sitting here alone - the train isn't until 2:30."
"Oh, Lyle'll be back before then - we'll have lunch somewhere before the train departs. Until then I don't mind sitting here - much better than some stuffy office."
"Well, I have to agree with you on that." He turned his hat in his hands. "Listen - I don't have anything to do either - if you don't mind a side trip to the telegraph office, what do you say to an escort? I can show you a bit of Cincinnati."
She hesitated. "Really, I've imposed on your good nature enough already…"
"Nonsense." Ben held out his arm to her. "I'd enjoy the company."
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. "Well, I admit I'm dying to explore a little - but a woman alone - "
"Yes, I understand. Well, I promise to behave with the utmost propriety."
She laughed now, taking his arm. "I've no doubt about that. So you've been in Cincinnati before?"
"Oh, my, yes - Adam and I spent quite a bit of time here. There was good work for an ex-sailor - on the boats and on the docks. Hard to imagine now, but Cincinnati was the gateway to the west then - much like St. Louis is now."
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? If the gateway to the west will be even further west in a couple of decades."
Ben smiled. "Well, if it moves too much farther it will turn into the gateway to the Far East! Look - that looks like a telegraph office - let me stop in and then we can promenade." He ushered her inside and saw her comfortably settled on a bench before approaching the operator's window.
"I'm looking for - " he stopped to clear his throat, finding it unexpectedly dry. "A telegram. From Boston. From a Captain Abel Stoddard?"
The operator turned to eye a collection of pigeonholes. "You Benjamin Cartwright?" he asked briskly.
Ben cleared his throat again, his eyes on the piece of paper in the operator's hand. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"This is for you, then. There's two - another one from St. Louis."
"Thank you - " Ben pushed some money through the window. "I'll be sending an answer back…" He took the thin sheets gingerly, turning them over in his hands. The one was from Abel. The other was from Roy - he must have sent it through someone going to St. Louis. He stood fingering them, wondering what kind of news they contained for him.
"I could read them for you, if you like."
He started at the soft voice at his elbow, felt his face redden.
"No - " he replied, a little too quickly. "I - I'll - read them." He slid his thumb under the seal of the one from Boston and carefully unfolded it, turning a little to afford himself some privacy.
"DIAGNOSIS TYPHOID STOP," it read. "WEAK BUT STILL HERE STOP HURRY DON'T STOP ABEL."
He was hardly aware of the rush of air from his lungs, the stinging in the corners of his eyes. In fact, he was hardly aware of the whole telegram, except for the words "weak but still here". Adam was alive - for now, he still had a chance to reach him.
"Good news?"
He glanced up into the quiet, concerned face of Mrs. Chambers, taking a minute to dash his handkerchief at his eyes. "Still alive, as of this telegram." He was quickly calculating the remaining days of travel in his head. "Typhoid, evidently. I don't know much about it, though I've heard of it before."
"Oh." Mrs. Chambers' brow wrinkled and he tried to read her face.
"But you do?"
"Not - not really…" she hesitated. "One of my sisters was in Philadelphia during an epidemic of it, though. Many people died." She saw his face and added hastily, "Many recovered, too, of course."
Ben continued to study her. "Adam is strong," he said, a little defiantly. "Young and strong."
"Of course, that makes a big difference."
"He - he's survived a lot." He folded the telegram carefully, tucking it into his inside pocket and half-heartedly opening the next one. "He's still alive - that's the main thing."
"Of course it is…"
He smoothed out the second telegram, using it to shield his face, which seemed to be working unaccountably. "ME AND JOE OKAY STOP HOPE YOU AND ADAM ARE TOO STOP MISS YOU BUT HOP SING AND SHAUGHNESSY TAKING GOOD CARE OF US STOP LOVE DON'T STOP HOSS" He ran a hand over it and read it again. Love don't stop. Of course he wouldn't - how could he? He smiled at the vagaries of his tired mind.
"I have to send answers…" he went to the window for paper and pen, but also to create some distance for himself. He had been wrong, probably, to even think of trying to be with anyone today, with his heart so raw and his feelings so near the surface. He blotted at his face and studied the paper under his hand. "IN CINCINNATI STOP BE THERE IN FIVE DAYS IF ALL GOES WELL STOP LOVE TO YOU AND ADAM STOP THANK YOU CAPTAIN DON'T STOP BEN PS TAKE CARE OF MY BOY STOP. He frowned at the PS. A stupid thing to add, and expensive, too - of course Abel would - had been, in fact…but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to erase it. He addressed it and pushed it hastily through the window, turning his attention to the other telegram. AM WELL AND MAKING GOOD SPEED STOP EXPECT TO SEE ADAM SOON STOP WILL GIVE HIM YOUR LOVE STOP MY LOVE TO YOU AND JOE AND ALL DON'T STOP PA.
He turned to address this one too, and hesitated. Should he address it to Roy? Probably a better choice than Hop Sing since Hop Sing's English was sometimes variable. He started to address it, then paused again.
Me and Joe okay…
He had left Hoss with a man-sized job - asked him to do something hard and grownup and it sounded like he was doing it well. Surely that deserved some show of confidence - some recognition of adult responsibility? He stared at the sheet of paper, then scrawled "Erik Cartwright, the Ponderosa, c/o Virginia City/ via St. Louis, and pushed it through the window. Two other boys he had to believe he would see again - had to believe would be fine, even without him there.
He shoved some money after the messages and waited while the operator checked them and counted words and made a little stack of his change. Still he waited, and the operator finally said boredly, "They'll go through in the hour."
Ben nodded, turning away, not quite sure what else he had been waiting for. He felt Mrs. Chambers slip her hand into his arm and give it a little squeeze.
"There'll be another one in Cleveland," Ben explained, not sure why he thought she should care. "Abel and I agreed - every stop with a telegraph office. Cleveland then Buffalo then Albany…" he trailed off. So many cities - so much distance still to be covered. So many opportunities for…he shook himself firmly. No. Adam was a strong boy - he hadn't lied about that. He would see him again - he would not believe otherwise. He couldn't. Typhoid…he would have to find someone who could tell him about typhoid…
"Perhaps we could find a doctor? Someone who could tell you more…"
Ben looked at her in surprise. It had been a long time since a woman had read his mind. "No," he said slowly after a minute. "No, thank you - probably only scare me senseless, and for what? As I said, Adam's frightened me before for nothing. Besides…" he patted her hand absently. "I promised you a promenade."
Outside the wind came up off of the harbor, sending dirt whirling in little eddies. Ben paused, staring, caught for a moment between the present and the past.
"I worked there," he said at last. "Assistant to the Harbor Master. It was one of the few skilled jobs I enjoyed in my travels West. It was a good time for us - after we lost Mrs. Callahan, Adam's nurse, of course, but we had a little more money - a little better accommodations. And the amenities a city had to offer…Cincinnati wasn't much like Boston, but it had it's own kind of culture - a fiercely growing town."
Mrs. Chambers smiled at his tone. "What did you do with Adam?"
"Oh, Adam was with me." Ben started an easy pace along the quay. "After Mrs. Callahan I always tried to take jobs that kept him with me. Not at first, of course - but once I found out about the sort of childcare that was available. You'd be shocked at some of the people who consider themselves suited to care for a young child."
"How old was he when you lost his nurse?"
Ben was quiet a moment. "Two, about. She grew ill - too ill to travel and care for an active toddler. I sent her to her sister's in Pennsylvania and then Adam and I went on alone together."
"Goodness. You cared for a two year old and worked at the same time?"
Ben laughed a little ruefully. "Well, it wasn't my plan, exactly - I tried out a nurse here and a nurse there - but I didn't find them very reliable at the price that I could afford. The last straw was when I came back to our room one day to find the latest nurse passed out on the floor and Adam cheerfully playing with an empty whiskey bottle. I decided then and there that until he could fend for himself a bit I would only take jobs that would allow me to keep him with me."
"That couldn't have been easy."
"No. No, it wasn't." Ben shook his head. "Not at all like I expected it to be. For some reason I thought it would be simple enough - I reasoned that hundreds of women did something very similar every day, so how hard could it be?" Mrs. Chambers shot him a sideways look and they laughed together. "And yes - I learned how wrong I was very quickly. "
"Was Adam a difficult child?"
"Difficult? No, not really. I mean, I may have thought so at the time, but later experience taught me otherwise. No - he was well behaved for the most part, but very curious - and his curiosity sometimes got the better of him. And me." He smiled to himself, his eyes skimming over the row of boats docked and waiting to load or unload. It was a busy harbor, though not as busy as it had been seventeen years ago - the railroad trade had cut back on the steamboats. "In those days Adam and I sat in that little cabin overlooking the wharf, marking ships in and out. We'd occasionally go down to the boats to check out a cargo here or a passenger list there. Adam used to love that."
Mrs. Chambers was silent a moment. "How old did you say he was?"
"Three." He saw her face and shrugged. "He seemed older. You'd have to meet him to understand. And no one seemed to mind." The steermen and their crews had become so familiar with the sight of Adam trailing him like a small shadow as he made these inspections that they barely remarked on it, except maybe to absently pat his head or slip him a peppermint or a lemon drop or two. "He was very quiet for the most part - I almost forgot he was there sometimes myself." He sighed a little. "Of course, I learned to remember - the hard way. So much of parenthood is learned the hard way, I find."
He stood a moment, watching the long line of smokestacks bellowing smoke, listening to the musical cry of the whistles as ships signaled their arrivals and departures, gripped in an almost painful fist of reminiscence. Adam had been fascinated by those smokestacks - had stared and stared at them, trying to figure out where all the smoke came from.
"Pa, " he had asked him once, tugging on his pant leg to get his attention, "Is there a stove on board?"
Ben had been busily checking an inventory list and only gave him half an ear. "Well, I suppose there's a stove of some sort, Adam, since there's a cook and a galley - that's a ship's kitchen - but that smoke is from the engine. The thing that makes the boat go."
"Oh." Adam stared harder, as though the sheer act of desire would make the smokestacks release all their secrets to him. "Smoke makes the boat go?"
"Not smoke, Adam - steam. That's why they're called steamboats." Ben moved toward the gangway, not really noticing Adam wasn't quite with him until he heard him scrambling to catch up.
"Pa."
"Yes, Adam."
"Like the kettle?"
"What's that?" Adam gave him a look of mild exasperation and he slowed himself to listen more carefully.
"Steam?" Adam repeated.
"Oh. Oh, yes. Steam. Like the kettle."
Adam stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked them thoughtfully. He knew something about steam - had had a rather nasty encounter with it at one point that had robbed him of all desire to put his hand in the middle of a cloud of it to touch again. "How?" he asked finally.
"How?" repeated Ben absent-mindedly, shuffling through his papers. "Good heavens, Adam, I don't know - you'd need to ask Mr. Fulton or Mr. Fitch or whoever this week's scuttlebutt says is the inventor the steam engine."
This time he had only gone a few steps before he noticed Adam was not beside him. He turned to look for him, a little impatient. What had gotten into the boy today?
Adam was staring at him intently. "Say it again," he demanded.
Ben shook his head. "Say - ? Oh, scuttlebutt?"
"Scubblebutt," Adam repeated, frowning.
'That's scuTTle - tuh - I'm not sure that's a very good word for you to learn anyway, Adam. It's just sailor slang."
Adam blinked. "What's slang?"
"Slang is - well, it's - language that's not quite proper."
Adam sucked thoughtfully on his three favorite fingers again. "Bad words?"
"No, not really bad, but - I thought we had agreed that you were too old for that, young man?"
Adam noticed his fingers in his mouth and hastily removed them, clasping them behind his back. "How come? Slang?"
"Well, they're not REAL words, they're…" Ben made a face. How the devil did somebody explain slang?
"How can they not be real? How can we say them, then?"
"By not real I mean - well, I mean - " Ben shook himself, then reached down and grabbed Adam's hand to hurry him along. "It's just not a word you need to know. Come along now, I have a lot of work to do."
Ben broke off his story to glare at Mrs. Chambers. "Oh, yes - it's all very well for YOU to laugh - you try and explain slang to a three year old! Particularly a very persistent three year old! I don't think Adam ever forgot anything in his life."
Mrs. Chambers chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. Go on."
"Seriously, these old stories must be boring you to death."
"No, not at all! In fact, I positively must know if poor Adam ever got to find out the workings of a steam engine or the meaning of slang!"
"Ah, yes, well…" Ben shook his head. "He certainly made his best effort. Well, there was some trouble with the inventory list. We were fairly strict about them in those days since a number of boats were suspected of smuggling."
Ben recalled with some amusement how mortified the Captain had been - insisting he'd never had a black mark against his name. "It'll take me a bit to straighten it out, though - why don't you go below to the galley - have some coffee and pie while I talk to m'mate. It's right at the end of the stairs, other side of the engine room."
Ben had obediently made his way to the galley, knowing that if anything were amiss the Captain would have time to destroy the evidence or ditch hidden cargo. It didn't matter particularly - as long as the cargo didn't make it into port; that was all that mattered. An expensive loss was sometimes the best lesson anyway. So he settled down with a piece of peach pie and a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.
"Somethin' fer ya, little feller?"
Ben raised his brows in surprise when Adam shook his head. Usually Adam liked pie. "You sure, son? You feeling all right?" Adam nodded and Ben noticed his preoccupation with the small porthole windows of the lower decks and nodded that it was all right for him to move to the built in bench beneath them. "All right - don't stand on the bench to look out, though."
Adam obediently dropped to his knees.
Ben saw that he was securely settled then turned his attention back to his pie. The cabin boy topped off his coffee and set another cup for one of the pilots who had come down from above for a free bite before looking for lodgings in port.
The pilot cheerfully accepted his own piece of pie and eyed Ben shrewdly.
"Signing on?" he asked innocently.
"No - I work in the harbor. Just checking you folks through."
"Eh." The pilot nodded, spearing into his pie. "Then you're not a boatman?"
"I used to sail on clippers, but no, I don't know the river."
The pilot nodded again. "Verra diff'runt thing, the river. Gotta know her like yer hand - day or night, all kindsa weather. Takes a special sorta man."
"I'm sure that's so," agreed Ben politely, "But the same thing can really be said of the ocean."
The pilot slurped at his coffee, settling in for a good argument. "Ah, but the ocean, she's deep - deep at almost every point. The river'll shallow out on ya without warnin' - can run her aground with no notice whatsoever."
"I suppose," Ben nodded seriously, accepting the gauntlet. "But it's difficult to get lost in the river - not so vast as the ocean. The ocean seems to go on forever…a man has to know how to steer without a single landmark in sight except the stars."
The pilot begrudgingly allowed as how this was so. "Still - " he challenged, chawing at his pie, "there's some room to spread about in the ocean. In the river, now - there you're riding cheek to jowl with other steamers, small craft and the like. Half the time most of 'em run without a single lantern on the darkest night. Ocean'd be too tough for 'em - yes, on the ocean you're spared them nuisances."
Ben pretended to consider this, then nodded. "There's something to what you say, of course. But at least in the river you never have to deal with deep sea life. You haven't lived until you've seen what a run in with a whale can do to a clipper."
The pilot looked stintingly impressed. "Never seen one of them whales," he admitted. "Hear they're a fearsome sight."
"Fearsome, indeed. Why, I remember a time - " Ben could never remember later exactly how long he had sat and traded sailing yarns with the old pilot - only that it had taken several cups of coffee. What he always remembered, though, so clearly that it woke him up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat for weeks to come, was the moment when the Captain arrived to summon him and he had turned around and realized that Adam was no longer kneeling on the bench under the porthole. At first he had just shot his eyes around the room, looking, but as he realized that no corner of the compact galley concealed a small, dark haired boy, he felt a surge of panic in his chest.
He seized hold of the cabin boy, who was just arriving with another pot of coffee. "My son - " he said urgently, "He was over there - "
The boy smiled cheerfully. "That he was, mister. I remember clear as day."
"He's not now, though - "
"Nope." The boy's head bobbed in agreement. "Nope - he sure ain't."
Ben fought the urge to shake him. Really, it wasn't his fault, after all. "Did you see him go anywhere…?"
The boy put down the coffeepot to scratch his scalp. "Now - I been running back and forth to the cook doin' my usual - can't say as I noticed," he decided after a moment's serious consideration. He brightened. "Maybe he's up on deck?"
Ben bit his lip. The same thought had occurred to him - staring at the smokestacks, maybe…he was reassuring himself all the way up the flights of stairs to the top deck that Adam might be small, but he was still too large to fit between the rail slats and tumble into the river. He made a sweep of one deck and then the next - so many places for a little boy to hide…where would he go? What would he want to see? Adam was usually happy enough to sit and listen - what would be so pressing to him that he might…? Ben slowed and then stopped, realization dawning. "Captain," he said slowly, "where did you say the engine room was?"
The Captain looked at him sympathetically. "Just down from the galley…oh." He smiled through his beard. "Why don't we give it a look?"
Ben almost tumbled down the steps in his haste to get below again, not even bothering to wait for the Captain. He pushed his way to the engine room, oblivious to the mounting heat and stench, and all but burst through the door.
Two busy firemen and the engineer glanced up at him with little interest. Ben was out of breath from his dash, so before he could speak the engineer drawled, "Come ta fetch that one, have ya?" He gestured with his head to a small, sooty figure perched on a stack of wood, sucking his middle three fingers and staring intently at the massive engine the engineer was judiciously feeding water.
"Adam!" Ben barked - and because he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry he blurted, "Fingers, young man?"
Adam hastily snatched his fingers from his mouth and tucked them behind him. "Look, Pa." He pointed with his other hand. "Steam."
Ben was upon him in one stride, snatching him from the woodpile and trying to look less panicked and more stern. "Adam, what on earth were you - and those fingers are covered with soot! You do NOT put them in your mouth when - " he remembered his audience suddenly and glanced around, reddening. "I - I apologize for my son - he does know better. I hope he didn't cause you too much trouble. Adam, apologize to the men for disturbing them."
Adam looked puzzled. "I didn't - "
"Adam!" Ben's voice was firm.
The engineer shrugged. "He weren't no trouble, mister. Just sat there an' looked - showed'em a few things. Was good ta see somebody take an interest in the engine, even a little shaver - "
Adam's black brows drew together. "I'm three," he piped up indignantly.
"Adam - " warned Ben, but the engineer grinned.
"Ah, well, yer old enough ta reckernize a good thing when ya see it - she's a beautiful sight, eh? Not enough folk realize…" He reached over to tousle Adam's hair. "Figgered somebody'd be along ta claim 'em eventually."
Ben gave him an exasperated stare, then turned a disapproving look on his son. "Adam, apologize to these gentlemen and to the Captain. Then we're going to have a little talk about wandering off."
Adam frowned, but he knew no argument would be tolerated so he said, "I'm sorry," half-heartedly, his eyes drifting back to the engine.
Ben nodded briskly. "Now, I am going to conclude my business with the Captain and you are going to stay with me the whole time - then we are going to have our talk. Understood?" Adam didn't respond, so Ben took his chin in his hand and turned his face away from the engine and back to him. "I said, understood?"
Adam nodded.
Ben rubbed futiley at a soot stain on the round cheek. "You, " he said bluntly, "are a mess."
He couldn't quite bring himself to put Adam down again, though he could see the Captain and his crew found his predicament amusing - and so he signed papers and checked cargoes with Adam sitting firmly on his hip. Adam, who was used to a measure of independence, seemed to like it even less than he did, but he also seemed to know that he had pushed his luck about as far as it would go today, so he bore it stoically.
Finally, with all his official duties aboard the steamer done, Ben headed down the dock and back towards the Harbor Master's station. Halfway there he sat Adam on a piling where he could meet his eye easily and looked at him firmly. "Adam," he said very seriously. "You must never again wander off when nobody knows where you are. Never, do you hear me?"
Adam studied him. "I knew where I was, Pa," he pointed out.
Ben sighed. "Well, that's all very well, but - perhaps I need to be more specific. You must never wander off unless I know where you are. Adam, anything could happen to you. It's very dangerous."
Adam eyed him with interest. "What things?"
"Well - any - bad things. You could fall in the water or get lost or hurt yourself - and I wouldn't know where to find you. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
Adam shook his head.
"So if you feel you need to leave for any reason, you must come tell me first. Understood?"
Adam looked speculative. "Even if I interrupt?"
"Yes - well, I don't want you to interrupt frivolously, of course - I expect you to use good judgment - "
Adam's eyes grew round. "Say it again."
"Say - ? What, judgment?"
Adam nodded. "What's jud - juj - " he stopped in frustration.
"Judgment." Ben repeated. "It's something you'll need to cultivate. The good kind, that is."
"What's frivlis?"
"Fri - ? Oh. Oh, frivolously? That's - that's - well, that's not important right now. What's important is, do you understand? That you aren't to wander off anywhere - EVER - without speaking to me first?"
Adam nodded.
"Good." Ben moved to lift him down from the piling.
"Pa - " Adam's voice stopped him.
"Yes, son?"
"How does it work?"
"Work? Well, before you go anywhere you just - " he stopped, suspicion dawning, and, following Adam's eyes, glanced over his shoulder to see smokestacks cheerfully spouting smoke behind him. "Adam! Have you been listening to a word I said?"
Adam looked at him as though he wasn't quite sure what the best answer would be.
Ben groaned. "Adam, when I'm talking to you, you need to listen - pay attention to what I'm saying and learn what I'm trying to teach you! Do you understand me? I need you to focus on what I'm saying, son!"
Ben stopped his story again to look reproachfully at Mrs. Chambers. "I'm glad my early efforts at child rearing provide you with so much amusement."
Mrs. Chambers tried to suppress her giggles. "I - I'm so sorry. But - but - "
Ben tried to hide his own smile. "Well, you must remember that I had virtually no experience with children - it seemed like a perfectly reasonable request at the time. Of course, several years and two more three year olds later I learned to adjust my expectations a little."
Mrs. Chambers threw back her head and laughed at that, and after a second, Ben joined her. The breeze off the quay stiffened and Mrs. Chambers reached up to tuck some loose hair back into her bonnet. "So," she smiled, "Did Adam ever manage to learn good judgment?"
"Hm? Oh - yes. Yes, for his age, I suppose he has."
"And scuttlebutt? Did he ever work that one out?"
"I suspect he knows many more words than I do at this point and some that I don't even want to know about."
"And what about the steam engines? Did he ever find out about those?"
Ben thought about all the things Adam had been so hungry to know - the things that had pushed him East to school - secrets that he may never have the opportunity to unlock now.
"I hope so," he said, suddenly solemn. "I certainly hope so."
TBC
Thanks, Tauna. Yes, memories are our friends and our tormentors.