There was a long pause in the conversation. Mary saw Reed wipe his face against the shoulder of his jacket, and she wondered if he was trying to wipe away tears of his own. Reed had been hanging his head during this speech, perhaps rightly aware that one wrong word would be the end of him, but now Mary saw him wipe his face against the shoulder of his jacket, and she wondered if he was trying to swipe away tears of his own.
In the distance, Mary could hear the wind hissing. In her throat and in her head, she could hear her heart beating. Like a lidless eye, the sun glared down on them.
Donner finally stood up for himself. “He has nothing with him—no horse, no food.”
Margaret’s power seemed to go all of a sudden. She dropped beside her spouse with a tiny scream of surprise. It was impossible to tell whether she was relieved or upset, but she sobbed uncontrollably over him, as if something inside her had burst open.
Meanwhile, Keseberg spit on the ground at Tamsen’s feet after giving her another harsh gaze. “Get him out of here before I kill him personally,” he yelled as he pushed his way through the mob, causing Lavinah Murphy to stumble.
Mary dashed toward them at that point, knowing that if she waited any longer, her opportunity would pass her by. Mary came around and threw an arm over Tamsen’s weeping wife, helping to bring her to her feet—miserable, stunned, and still bleeding. Mary felt something pass between them, like understanding, when Tamsen caught her sight. Stanton, if he ever made it back to them, she suspected, would disapprove of any kind of link between her and Tamsen. But for some reason, this thought made Mary quite happy. Stanton didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t his approval.
Mary moved in with the Reed family to aid them after that night, which disturbed her more than anything else had—James Reed folding away into the darkness forever, without a single protest, which unnerved her more than anything else had. It felt nice to help Margaret, who was now a widow twice over. James Reed had gone all the way to the livery stable to retrieve his saddle horse in May 1840 when he discovered he’d forgotten his new hat. He could see it hanging from a peg on the wall as he walked back to his office: broad-brimmed like a Quaker’s, made of black brushed felt with a slim band of plain brown leather. He could wait till tomorrow and ride home bald, having left his old hat at the haberdasher’s, which had deteriorated from sweat, but the slip in concentration troubled him. He wasn’t the type to forget things. It wasn’t like him to ride around town without a hat, and he wiped his brow with his handkerchief twice more in self-consciousness at the concept.
He was shocked to discover the new junior clerk, Edward McGee, sitting behind his desk with an open ledger in front of him when he swung open the door to his office. McGee raised his head.
Reed felt like the one who had been caught where he shouldn’t have been, even if he was the one who should have been shocked.
McGee’s wavy hair was a light gold colour, and his dark eyes were unusually gorgeous. Those eyes had not appeared guilty at the moment, but rather full of a kind of understanding that made the youngster appear older than he was. Reed had seen the young Irish lords from afar as a boy, and he had the same long, pointed nose, chiselled cheeks, and jaw. He was shocked to discover the new junior clerk, Edward McGee, sitting behind his desk with an open ledger in front of him when he swung open the door to his office. McGee raised his head.
Reed felt like the one who had been caught where he shouldn’t have been, even if he was the one who should have been shocked.
McGee’s wavy hair was a light gold colour, and his dark eyes were unusually gorgeous. Those eyes had not appeared guilty at the moment, but rather full of a kind of understanding that made the youngster appear older than he was. Reed had seen the young Irish lords from afar as a boy, and he had the same long, pointed nose, chiselled cheeks, and jaw. “Isn’t it McGee?” As he slammed the door behind him, Reed said. “You’re the one who took Silas Pennypacker’s place.”
McGee ruffled his hair with his hand.
Reed swallowed his saliva and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It appears you mistook my desk for your own,” he said.
McGee’s face lit up as a boyish grin crept across his face. Then he swiftly corrected it, giving Reed a knowing glance as if they were sharing a secret once more. “Sir, please accept my apologies. Mr. Fitzwilliams sent me to find this, and it isn’t what it appears to be. He informed me where it was kept in detail. “Sir, I didn’t disrupt anything else on your desk.” With a sharp glance at the ledger, he asked, “And did Fitzwilliams order you to open it as well?”
McGee maintained a steady gaze on Reed. “I wanted to double-check that the volume was set correctly. “At times, the accounts can be perplexing.” The young man was unrepentant—and clearly a liar.
McGee rose from his chair, and Reed was taken aback by his tall stature and the way his shirt pressed hard against the muscles of his chest. He had an intensity about him that Reed couldn’t quite put his finger on, as if he was about to reach out and touch Reed.
Reed remained motionless, waiting for it.