Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama) (11 page)

“I appreciate your candor, Hellreich.” Bret rose with an unfriendly smile. “But I think you sugarcoat your words when you’re trying to feed them to strangers.”

Caden grinned. “Only to children, sir, to sweeten bitter medicine and so hasten the cure.”

Gabrielle stepped between the two. “Gentlemen, please, enough!” she said. “Bret, I’m ashamed of you acting like this, and in my own home, and Cade, please, you can leave the papers on the bureau desk. I’ll make sure my father receives them.”

“Forgive me, Gabrielle.” Caden bowed politely. He turned to her guest. “And you too, Mr. McGowan. I only wish to make your acquaintance and be of whatever assistance I may.” He smiled respectfully at Gabrielle. “Your father has taken me into his confidence and I would never do anything to jeopardize that trust with either his family or friends.” He nodded at Bret.

Caden glanced down at the Persian carpet and stepped over to the bureau desk by the second bay window. He removed the papers from his black leather valise and placed them on top. Satisfying himself once more that everything was in order, he turned and walked toward the hallway.

“Sorry, Doctor,” Bret called from across the parlor. “Gabrielle is right. No need for everyone to get off on such a bad start.” Mr. McGowan extended his hand. “I would like to extend an invitation to you and your family to attend my party this evening. I know it’s short notice but we would enjoy your company.”

Caden paused for a moment before clasping Bret’s hand. Exchanging a short, vigorous handshake revealed much of what he wanted to know.

Mr. Bret McGowan was a strong man, perhaps as strong as he, but there was also something else, the underbelly of a secret weakness he was trying so hard to conceal.
And what would that be?

Bret glanced at Gabrielle. “It’s one of the most popular gala balls of the Galveston society calendar, isn’t that right, Miss Caldwell?”

Gabrielle offered up a brittle smile. “Without a doubt. That’s all some people have been talking about all week. That is, those who have nothing better to do.”

Bret chuckled. “So what do you say, Doc?”

Caden examined a framed portrait propped on the desk of Arley Caldwell as a young Confederate regimental sergeant. “That is very hospitable of you, Mr. McGowan, but I’m afraid we have too much business to attend to these days. Perhaps another time.”

Bret seemed relieved. “I understand. But if you should reconsider . . .” He tipped his head in silent acknowledgment. His strained features became noticeably more relaxed.

Caden stepped with confidence back to Miss Caldwell’s side. “I’m glad that we’ve cleared up whatever misunderstanding there may have been between us, Mr. McGowan.”

Bret stuck his hands in the side pockets of his suit as if searching for a cigar or something he hoped to find and so draw attention away from the crisp flush in his cheeks. “I . . . I’m surprised that I’ve never . . .” he removed his hands, letting his arms hang at his sides, “Met you or any of or family in town before.”

“The Society keeps us busy with constant travel, Mr. McGowan.” Caden examined the brim of his hat. “And as for our dedicated young women, some still believe in Euripides’s maxim but I, for one, do not.”

Bret looked at Gabrielle. “Forgive me, but classical studies were never of great interest. Perhaps you can help educate your less sophisticated friend here, Miss Caldwell?”

Gabrielle frowned at him and politely cleared her throat. “‘Women should keep within doors, and there converse.’ When I was at Vassar College I thought it would have been so interesting to have lived in fourth century B.C. Greece so that I could have conversed with one of the great dramatists.” 

She glanced at Bret for a moment. “And then he would have known exactly what we talked about behind those doors. I daresay he might have found more inspiration for his play writing.”

Mr. McGowan laughed and slapped his thigh. “A man would have to be a glutton for punishment or just plain stupid to try and keep you cooped up. He’d never hear the end of it.”

Gabrielle turned back to Mr. McGowan. “And I suppose you think that’s funny? Driving women to idle distractions and malignant gossip all because men refuse to treat us as equals and thus lock us way from the real affairs of the world?”

The smile on Mr. McGowan’s face fell and he shook his head. “You know I’d give you the vote tomorrow if I could, dear Miss Caldwell, I was just having some fun. We can still do that, can’t we?”

Gabrielle let out a long breath that seemed to calm her. “Don’t condescend to me, Bret McGowan. That’s the thing about men that irritates me the most. You always think you have to give us something.” 

She turned and stared at the bureau desk with the papers on top. “Really, sometimes I don’t know what to think. You test the limits of respect and friendship.”

Caden considered their heated conversation and looked away for a few moments. He resented this insufferable McGowan braggart’s ability to distract Gabrielle so easily. Caden lifted his gaze. He approached Gabrielle and touched her on the shoulder. “Time is coming when every man will have to take a new account of women and I, for one . . .” He took her hand in his. “. . . will be the first one in line to shake each lady’s hand when that day comes.”

Gabrielle parted her red lips, her smile radiating brightly from her pearl white teeth. “Why thank you, Caden. You encourage me to think that not all men will remain stuck in the mud of the previous centuries.” 

She raised her eyebrow at Bret and smirked. “There’s hope an intelligent woman may find a free thinking gentleman after all.” She withdrew her hand from his and pressed down a pleat in her skirt.

Caden stepped forward. “I take it that the suffrage movement was a common topic of discussion on the continent, Mr. McGowan,” Caden said, concentrating to keep the thin smile on his face.

Bret turned to face him. “One of many, Doctor. It’s inconceivable that civilized nations should tolerate this injustice much longer. It’s one of the many things that must change if the world is to advance in the next century.” He withdrew a gold watch on a chain from his vest pocket and glanced down at it.

Caden could barely contain his unbounded contempt for such physical and moral weakness. The sheer failure of old-world liberalism with its appalling inability to stem the tide, fused in him the condemnation of all self-indulgence and the absolute vanity of its naïve sensual notions. “Then we have much in common, Mr. McGowan.” Caden offered a polite nod to the younger man. “And I assure you, sir, I, for one, am dedicated to the advancement of mankind . . . and the price that must be paid for doing so.”

Bret glared at him. “When I was a boy, before the war, I remember hearing men speak the same way.”

Caden paused and studied his solemn rival.
And what else do you remember, Bret McGowan? Not much I think . . . or is this some game you wish to play? Very well, let us strike a wager and see whom the odds favor.
 

He motioned toward the Society papers on the bureau desk. “I am certain we have both learned many hard lessons since those dark years, sir. You have only to peruse our Society’s journals and articles to ascertain the strength and sincerity of our convictions.” 

Caden turned to his new, striking lady friend. “Good day, Gabrielle, I hope that we shall meet again . . . under more favorable circumstances. Please, thank your father again for his time and generosity.”

“My, so much serious talk on such a light summer’s day,” said Gabrielle, seeming to hasten both men out of the parlor with her quick steps. “Verna and I will have to take a stroll along the boardwalk just to clear my mind so I can even think about everything we’ve talked about.”

Standing in the hall, Caden nodded and glanced at the visitor once more. “And good day to you, Mr. McGowan.” Gabrielle’s grave friend remained silent behind the Caden’s back, but he felt the cold bore of the younger man’s stare pricking at his skin as he walked out.
One man may forget much of when he was a child. But another man who was a younger man then still remembers all.

Bret took a deep breath as he watched Gabrielle bid good day to Doctor Hellreich at the front door.
And good riddance too, hopefully.
How could he allow a stranger to affect him in such a disturbing way? Bret shook his head and loosened his shoulders.

Gabrielle turned but did not close the door. She stood immobile by the polished brass handle, hands folded in the front of her skirt as if expecting him to leave momentarily.

Bret smiled. “I guarantee your father will be more than satisfied with the dessert table tonight. I respect a man who goes against the grain and prefers the finer things first.”

Gabrielle glanced outside. “Don’t put yourself out on our account. He hasn’t made up his mind yet.”

Bret stepped closer. “And you?”

Gabrielle ignored the question as she watched a brown mare pulling a red-fringed surrey drive by. “It doesn’t matter what Verna or I prepare for him. These days all he can say is; ‘Your mother would never have served that,’ or ‘Your mother knew the way I liked my poached fish.’” She turned back toward him. “You remember the way he used to eat? Now it’s all cakes and truffles washed down with bourbon and scotch.”

Bret put his hand on her arm. He could see her struggling to fight back the tears and he knew the sad truth of what she was saying. When his mother was older she was always on about his father. 

Near the end it was as if she had brought her dear William back to life and all she had to do was get out of bed and take his outstretched hand. “Don’t worry yourself, darlin’,” he answered. “I understand. You’re doing the best you can.
You always have
. Just don’t begrudge your old daddy his only other comforts in life.”

Gabrielle wiped back a tear and brought back the lost sparkle to her eyes he hadn’t seen in years. “Please, Bret, you should go.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

Gabrielle only sighed and looked outside again.

Bret reached into his valise. “As you wish, but next week I’ll be traveling to Boston to meet my partners and talk with investors there. Unfortunately, Lucas and Higgins won’t be attending my party so I will leave the prospectus with you until then.”

“There’s no need.”

Bret stopped and turned to her. “This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you, Gabrielle. At least open the cover and glance at the first page. These are the best estimates I have to complete the drilling.” He took out the prospectus.

Gabrielle stared at him with a look he might have called pity, if not for the lingering doubt that she was no longer even willing to offer that to him. She folded her arms and seemed to settle into a detached scrutiny of him. “You are your father’s son and you will do as you’ve always done. I no longer have the patience or interest to care either way.”

Bret was silent, without noticeable emotion or gesture, but within there was a shattering force threatening to break apart his restrained appearance at any moment. 

He stepped over to the small rosewood desk and dropped the prospectus on top of the latest Theogenesis Society monthly journal. He felt himself slump. More than the loss of Gabrielle’s trust was the inexpressible conviction of being besieged on all sides by the same merciless power of fate. In her effort to preserve propriety, she had been gracious enough to refrain from wailing accusations at him, but her tense, unnatural expression appeared that it might break at any moment from the strain.

“Please take your time,” Bret said. “You can return it to me tonight at the party if you wish.”

Gabrielle remained silent, her gaze seeming to remain fixed on the old carpet beneath his new shoes.

Bret turned, and with an uncontrolled spurt, hurried his way through the front door without looking back.

CHAPTER 11

The unhurried moon untangled itself from the luxuriant vines behind Bret’s house and soared with increasing brilliancy, bathing both land and water in its flawless shimmer. He was thankful this Friday evening was the loveliest Galveston had ever allowed him.

Colonel Elijah Hayes snatched another shot glass of scotch from the passing tray carried by one of the catering boys.

“I am of the opinion,” he declared, trying to make himself heard above the lively conversations and music on all sides, “that Bret McGowan has outdone himself.” He faltered and brushed beside Bret. 

The Colonel’s stout body seemed that it might topple under its own weight at any moment. “And in doing so put all of Galveston society to shame. Sir, how do you expect any of us to top this?” The long retired colonel wrinkled his chubby face up into such a smile that he raised his gold frame spectacles off the bridge of his cherry-red nose.

Hadlee Foster and Liam Dawson glanced at each other and grinned.

Bret smiled. “Thank you for the kind words, Colonel, and if you listen to my advice, each one of you will have enough money to throw a party like this every night if you wish, instead of once a year . . . if you’re lucky.” 

He winked and swept his arm toward the gala of revelers enjoying themselves on the white marble floor of his huge, open ballroom.

Every sophisticated young lady and cranky old matron was dressed like a belle of the ball; they were flirting and laughing with their suitors regardless of age, clinking long neck crystal goblets and drinking French wine like water flowing free from a fountain.

“And you won’t have to hire the help for only special occasions,” Bret added. “You’ll be able to employ a full time house staff if you want.”

The colored waiters moved nimbly through the crowd, bearing trays covered with delicious, freshly cut fruit wedges, seafood hors d’oeuvres, and cheese and meat canapés. Others served glasses of scotch, bourbon, and whiskey, or poured wine from the bottle for the ladies.

“With every glass of this fine single malt, your proposition sounds more interesting,” the colonel said. He downed his scotch with one gulp. “You do make risky business sound enticing, but—”

“Praise be to the apostle Bret,” said Liam, raising his glass. “Still trying to convert the unbelievers to salvation from below!” Hadlee and Liam broke into strident laughter.