A Bright Tomorrow (6 page)

The conversation flowed around her, and once she looked up to find Amos watching her. “Better than getting soaked, isn't it, Miss Rose?”

“Oh, yes!” she answered, and gave him a brief smile. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along, Mr. Stuart.”

Nick, too, had been eyeing the girl openly, impressed by her good looks. When Amos told him of the incident, he had failed to mention her smooth olive skin, the fine sweep of her cheeks, the black hair, and especially the lustrous black eyes, which she kept downcast.
What a pippin!
Nick thought.
Wish I'd been the knight in armor to rescue this one!

Aloud he asked, “You been in New York long, Miss Rose?” He ignored his mother's frown and when Rose replied that she'd only arrived a short time before, he nodded. “Well, you'll have to let me show you around. A pretty girl like you has no business walking around this burg alone.”

Rose smiled briefly, but made no answer. To head off Nick's approach after the meal, she made a beeline for Anna. “Mrs. Castellano, could I talk with you for a minute…alone?”

“Yes. Nick, you help Mary Elizabeth with the dishes.”

“Aw, Ma!”

“Come on, Nick.” Amos grinned. “I'll help, too.”

When Anna and Rose had achieved some privacy in the small parlor, the young woman faced the older one. “Mrs. Castellano, I don't have very much money and I don't know anyone in New York.” Rose lifted her head, and a rosy blush colored her cheeks, for she was shamed at having to beg. “I–I'm strong and used to hard work. If you'd let me stay here until I find a job, I'll help you with the housework and the cooking.”

Anna admired the young woman's spirit, but was troubled. “Rose, I no gotta place for you.”

“Oh, please! Just a place on the floor in here! Don't make me go—”

Anna, with her tender heart, could not bear the sight of the girl's tears. “Now, wait,” she said quickly. “I don't have-a no more rooms, but if you don't mind sharing an old woman's room—”

“Oh, no!” Rose made an impulsive move to hug Anna, and the woman melted.

“You gotta some trouble, Rose? You stay with us. The good Lord, he knows how to fix it!” She held the girl, made motherly noises as Rose clung to her. At last she gently moved away. “You go to bed now, child. Tomorrow we talk.”

Rose nodded, grateful she didn't have to face the rest of the family or the boarders.

She went at once to the room, accompanied by Anna, who turned back the covers. “You gotta warm gown? No? You wear one of mine.” She smiled to see the girl's slim form. “It'll be big enough for you, I think!”

Ten minutes later, Rose lay buried in the thick feather bed and felt her tense muscles beginning to relax. She tried to stay awake, but the rain, still falling, danced on the window, and the last thing she remembered was the round, kindly face of Anna Castellano.

A
mos, saddle Prince!” James McClendon said, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “The secretary of the Navy, Theodore Roosevelt, is coming with a party…we'll need to saddle every horse that can walk!”

Amos had never seen the little Scotsman so worked up, and he threw himself into the task. By the time the three big carriages drew up, he'd harried the other hands into action so that nearly every animal was saddled. He himself held Prince's reins, for the big gelding was subject to uncertain behavior.

The owner of the stable, Mr. Harold Greenlee, was an ardent student of politics and an equally enthusiastic supporter of Theodore Roosevelt. He walked with the secretary from the carriages to the yard, leading an entourage of a dozen or so.

Greenlee spoke to the manager at once. “Are the horses ready, James?”

“Aye, they are, sir.”

“Greenlee, I want the liveliest mount in your stable!” The secretary of the Navy spoke in a rapid, rather high-pitched voice. He was, Amos noted, of no great height but gave the impression of tremendous strength. Amos had read of his passion for boxing and hunting and horses, and now as McClendon said, “Bring Prince up, Stuart,” he stepped forward.

Roosevelt stared at the animal, then grinned. The secretary had big, square teeth, and his eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. “Fine-looking animal,” he exclaimed, then took the reins from Amos. He swung into the saddle with practiced ease, and as Prince took a quick step to the side, Roosevelt pulled him up sharply. He winked at Amos. “A little of the Devil in this one, eh?”

Amos nodded. “Right, sir. Watch him…he'll try to rake you off on the fence.”

“Will he? Bully! I like a horse with spirit.” He nodded, adding, “Thanks for the tip, young man!” Then he kicked Prince with his heels and shot out of the yard at a hard run.

The rest of the party were still trying to mount up, and for a few minutes, Amos and McClendon were busy getting them all into the saddle.

One of the party, a woman, stood back, giving the mount Amos held for her a rather skeptical look. “I'm not a very good rider,” she admitted. “Is this one gentle?”

Amos had been too busy to give the woman more than a passing glance. Now he did so. She was young, no more than twenty-one, and very attractive. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes, a trim figure. “Well, miss—” Amos hesitated. “Thunder's a good horse, but a bit of a handful at times.”

“Oh, dear!”

Amos saw her distress and quickly attempted to put her at ease. “I could get you a gentle animal, miss.”

“Would you?” The woman's relieved smile came at once. “I think that might be better.” When Amos led Thunder toward the line of stables, she fell into step beside him. “I'm sorry to be so much trouble.”

“No trouble, miss,” Amos replied. “Won't take but a second, and Lady will give you no problem.” He tied Thunder and led the small mare out of the stall.

As he put the saddle on, the young woman laughed shortly. “I'm not really a part of the secretary's party. I guess I'm a party-crasher.” Seeing Amos's look of surprise, she smiled and introduced herself. “My name is Virginia Powers. I'm a reporter for the
Journal.”

Amos had cinched the saddle and was slipping the bridle on, but at her announcement, he stopped dead still and turned to stare at the young woman.

She laughed then, a delightful tinkling sound, and gave him a roguish look. “I know what you're thinking,” she said. “She doesn't look like a reporter!”

Amos was forced to smile. He shrugged, continuing to fasten the bridle. “To be truthful, I didn't know there
were
any women reporters. But I guess that's about the best job in the whole world.”

Struck by Amos's comment, Virginia Powers narrowed her gaze. “You think so? Are you interested in becoming a writer?”

Amos nodded but didn't elaborate, saying only, “Let me help you up, Miss Powers.” He waited until she approached, and when she stood beside him, noticed that she was pale. A thought occurred to him. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“No…and I'm scared to death of that beast!”

Amos stared at her, then shook his head. “You don't
have
to ride, do you?”

“Yes!” An intense determination fueled Virginia Powers, one that did not hide her fear, however. She took a deep breath and then looked up at Amos. “I'm not actually a reporter…not yet anyway,” she confessed. “William Randolph Hearst is my uncle. Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, Miss Powers,” Amos answered. “I've read a lot about him.”

Everybody in New York knew about the man who had dropped like a bombshell into the life of the city. Hearst had used his family fortune to buy the
New York Journal
and had started a crusade to make it the most successful newspaper in the country. These tactics included the use of enormous black headlines, colored paper, full-page editorials, illustrations, and colorful cartoons. The rivalry between Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer for supremacy in the newspaper world had become so heated that almost everyone in the state kept up with it.

Virginia shrugged her shoulders and her lips grew firm. “It's like you thought…there aren't any women reporters. But I kept after my uncle until last week he finally agreed to give me a chance.” She eyed the mare with apprehension. “He said if I could get an interview with Mr. Roosevelt, he'd put me on the staff…so, you see, I've just
got
to get on that horse!”

“You can do it, Miss Powers,” Amos said quickly. “Look, let me help you on, and I'll ride right beside you, all right?”

“Oh, would you?” Virginia's smile was brilliant. “What's your name?”

“Amos Stuart. Now, put your foot in my hand…that's it—” She was a small woman, and he lifted her slowly and carefully upward. “Just put your leg over the saddle. That's it. See how steady Lady is? Now take the reins and let me get mounted—” Amos quickly swung into his saddle and brought Thunder around beside the mare. “Just touch Lady with your heels, and she'll move along. But don't be afraid. She's too old and sedate to do anything so vulgar as running away.”

Virginia sat in the saddle, spine rigid and face pale, expecting the worst. But before they had gone more than a dozen yards, she exclaimed, “Why, this is
easy
!”

Amos led the horses out of the yard, and soon they were trotting beneath the trees that overhung the bridle path. The young woman was so delighted with her progress that Amos was pleased.

As she relaxed, she began to talk about her plan to get the secretary off to one side for at least a few minutes. “Just that much would be enough for Uncle William.”

Amos shook his head doubtfully. “I don't know, Miss Powers. The secretary rides like a cowboy—which they say he
is
. Be quite a trick to catch up with him on Lady.”

But Amos had underestimated this headstrong female. Virginia Powers came from a wealthy family, where she had gotten her own way more often than not. She was, moreover, a very attractive young woman who had learned how to handle men. She turned to Amos, studying his lean form, and his rugged good looks. “Amos, if you'll help me corner Roosevelt…maybe I can get my uncle to give
you
a job on the
Journal
.”

Amos looked dubious. “I don't have enough education for that, but I'll help
you
if I can.” He smiled at her, unaware of how appealing he was, with his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead and his dark blue eyes shining. “Look, there's one stretch of the bridle path that's different. It's so overgrown that nobody can do more than walk his horse through. Let's go, and we'll waylay the secretary there.”

Anticipation brought a glow to Virginia's face, and she agreed at once. “Oh, Amos…let's do it!”

He led her to the uncleared section. “We'll pull back into the trees,” he explained. “I'll keep an eye out, and when Mr. Roosevelt comes along, we'll step in front of him. The path is too narrow for him to pass both of us…so you'll have a few minutes to talk to him.”

As they waited, Virginia began to question Amos, and despite his reticence, she had soon pried his life story out of him.

He laughed. “You'll be a good reporter. I never told anyone so much about myself in my whole life!” Then he lifted his hand to signal silence and cocked his head toward the path on the left. “It's him!” he said, excitement in his voice. “And he's all alone! Come on!”

Amos brought both horses into the narrow path, just as Roosevelt's horse approached at a fast trot. “Hullo! Is it you, Miss Powers?” Roosevelt asked in a booming voice.

Virginia turned in the saddle and smiled sweetly. “Why, Mr. Roosevelt, it's you! I'm sorry, but I'm such a poor rider that I had to ask this young man to help me.”

Roosevelt grinned at Amos. “You were
exactly
right about this horse, young man! He jolly well
did
try to rake me off!”

“You ought to be used to that, sir. What Prince did was nothing compared to what some of the city bosses and congressmen have done to scrape you out of the way!”

His reply delighted Roosevelt. He threw his head back, and his hearty
“Haw! Haw!”
rocked the woods. “What's your name, young man?”

“Amos Stuart.”

“Well, Amos, you're dead right! I've stirred up a hornet's nest…and plan to do worse!” Here the path widened slightly, and Roosevelt brought his horse up beside Amos's. His small eyes twinkled as he demanded, “And do you think I'll win an office in the next election?”

Amos had read much about Roosevelt and had a ready answer. “Well, I don't think you'll be secretary of the Navy for long—” Amos waited out the dark scowl that came to Roosevelt's fleshy lips, before adding, “I think the bosses will get you into the race for president of the United States…just to get rid of you around here.”

Again, Roosevelt was delighted. He grinned ferociously at the pair. “I'd
like
that!”

“Maybe I can help, sir,” Virginia ventured.

“Help me become president?”

“Yes, sir. I'm a reporter for the
Journal.”

Roosevelt frowned, distaste in his face. “Not a very dignified paper.”

“No, but people read it,” Virginia shot back. “And William Randolph Hearst is my uncle…and you'll have to admit that
he
could help you!”

Roosevelt studied the young woman with more care. He had ambition enough for ten Caesars. But unlike most politicians who bray that they are in politics only to
help
people, Roosevelt really
meant
it!

Born into a wealthy family, Roosevelt had been a sickly child. He had determined to become a hard, tough, healthy man, and had made himself so by vigorous exercise and discipline. More recently, he had brought that same fortitude into his political life, fighting his way through the crooked machinery of New York, shouldering his way into the office of New York City Police Commissioner. Success in this post had brought him to the attention of the new president, William McKinley, who had appointed him assistant secretary of the Navy. But everyone knew that this was not Roosevelt's goal, for he made no secret of the fact that he intended one day to occupy the highest office in the land.

And Roosevelt knew the power of the printed page. Publishers of popular newspapers such as Joseph Pulitzer's
World
and Hearst's
Journal
were enormously influential in politics.

“So…Hearst is your uncle?” Roosevelt asked. “Well, now, what does he think of my new programs?”

The three rode along, Roosevelt both listening and speaking with enthusiasm, and by the time they got back to the road that led to the stable, Virginia had her story. “You'll see your views in the
Journal
tomorrow, Mr. Secretary.”

“Bully! Bully!” Roosevelt nodded, then cast an inquiring glance at Amos. “Now, Stuart, the truth! Did you show this young woman how to ambush me on the path?”

Amos nodded. “I'm afraid I did, sir.”

“You rascal!” Roosevelt laughed. “I like to see a young man with initiative! But if I were you, I'd make Miss Powers buy me a steak for it!”

Roosevelt galloped off, and when he was gone, Virginia turned to Amos. “I'd like to, Amos,” she said with a warm smile. “Buy you a steak I mean.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that.”

Virginia stared at him. She was puzzled by his manner, for she was accustomed to the brash assurance of the young men of her set. Stuart was not only attractive in appearance, but something about his modesty pleased her. When he helped her off the mare, she grasped his arm. “I've got to go write this interview…and I owe it all to you. Tonight I have to attend a play, so I can review it for the paper. I've got two tickets, and you're taking me.”

Amos shrugged. “I don't have anything to wear.”

Virginia liked him the better for admitting it. “Then
get
something,” she insisted, and kept on, until Amos finally agreed to meet her at the theater.

“I guess you're used to having your own way,” he said. “Well, I'm used to doing what I'm told, so I suppose it's all right. I'd really like to see a play. I've never seen one.”

“Well, you won't see much of a play tonight,” Virginia told him. “It's a real stinker, from what I hear. But we'll have fun, and afterwards we can get a sandwich or something. You can help me think up bad things to say about it in the review.” She turned and put out her hand. “I'll see you tonight…and thanks a million, Amos!”