All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred thirty-six)

All Bedlam Courses Past

Chapter Five

Collecting Debts

(part one hundred thirty-six)

Monday last, she had been surprised in town by William Thacker, jogging alongside Dancer. Through a dull spring, larded (for its reasons) with muddy weather and long waits, coming on to June, she’d had good talks with him at Fannie’s—where he pitched into summonings like a reporter with a rival. He held her hand as required, kept satire out of everything but his voice and eyes…

Earned Yeager’s pay, for a pair of articles composed by a character named Curry Ostey. Naïve, light humor, fine. The Well-Being reader ideally had those, curiosity and…good spirits?

“Hop aboard.” She let Dancer carry on his walking pace, teasing.

Weem slung up a canvas army bag. Next, a woohee, and himself.

“Miss Gremot, I made you a promise. Can’t blame you if you thought I’d forgot the whole thing.” He tapped his forehead. “I’ve been keeping it right here. That talk I had with Rutherford…”

Dancer, the whip catching him a tickle on the flank, hitched a step or two. Weem grinned, pantomimed a spyglass, and peered up the street.

“Please. I heard from my own father Uncle George wants to kick you upstairs.”

“Doesn’t want to, done it. I’d stick around town just fine myself. I don’t live high. But that’s not what the man said.”

Uncle George, so Weem could manage it, had bought a paper in Cleveland, Tennessee. Proof of his esteem, Papa said. “Thacker’s resourceful. He’ll get himself in with the locals. Find a nice widow with a boarding house.”

Especially to his daughter he had made this joke.

“Now don’t go telling yourself I’ve got no ambition.”

“What do I have to do with it?” What do I care, she’d been going to say.

She heard him rustle and his voice come closer. “Élucide.”

“Call me Luce if we’re on those terms.”

“Luce. Women don’t get out and work in the world.”

“Some don’t.”

“Now, ma’am, if I promise you win every argument, can I get in two words without having to start one?”

She smiled, whether he knew or not. “Women don’t get out and work?”

“Apropos of the ups and downs, meant. Standing corrected. I’m saying Rutherford’s sending me off on…what do fools call that thing? An errand. Drum up enough circulation to keep the New Republican…that’s his name for it…out of bankruptcy. I reckon about two years’ time.”

“For the bankruptcy.”

“Score one. I don’t see myself settling down in Cleveland. Rutherford told me, I like you, William. If you can’t get anyplace in Tennessee, maybe no one can. And since he puts it that way, best to read the tea leaves. I figure he does like me. I’ll fail at this, and that’ll be how we part company, no hard feelings.”

146

Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred thirty-seven)

(2024, Stephanie Foster)