The Cogan Legend

 

The

 Cogan 

Legend

 

 

 

 

R. E. Miller

 

The Cogan Legend

Copyright © 2012, by R. E. Miller

Cover Copyright © 2012 by Sunbury Press, Inc.  

NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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FIRST SUNBURY PRESS EDITION

Printed in the United States of America

October 2012

 

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-62006-125-1
Mobipocket format (Kindle) ISBN: 978-1- 62006-126-8
ePub format (Nook) ISBN: 978-1-62006-127-5

Published by:

Sunbury Press

Mechanicsburg, PA

www.sunburypress.com

 

 

Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania   USA

Acknowledgments

 

 

 

To Marie, my wonderful wife and best friend in the world, you stuck with me through this endeavor, never quitting on me.  You corrected my brutal grammar, edited and added ideas, and handled all the computer tasks.  This story would never have been completed without you.  I love you and our family.

Somewhere in the United States or Europe, wherever his job takes him, is Robert C. Waggoner the most gracious person I have ever met.  Divine intervention brought us together.  I could never have imagined that missing a scheduled flight to Dallas would lead to an encounter with such a kind person.  Your knowledge and patience has meant so much to Marie and me.  I could never have completed this story without all your guidance and help.  I will always be indebted to you.

 

 

This book is dedicated to my parents, Jim and Fern Miller and my wife Marie's parents, David and Betty Brandt.  Born during the depression, they were not fortunate enough to be granted the opportunities Marie and I were blessed with; but our parents molded our character and personalities.  A man once told me, “Your personality is the sum total of what you are.”

 

MID SEPTEMBER 1841

 

Without real friends during most of her childhood, Ann Fairchild had no idea that there were some things you just didn't share with others.  Not just any others, but others beneath her station.  And you certainly shouldn't expect those others to keep secrets for you, especially not secrets that are just too surreal to be anything but true.

But Ann was daughter to Charles Fairchild of Philadelphia, and she had lost her mother just recently – which is what most people suggested as the reason for her behavior – and she was heiress to the large Fairchild fortune – so the scandal swept up and down the dirty Philadelphia streets like begging urchins.

Rachel Miller was Ann's best friend and confidant and with whom she shared all of her secrets and plans.  Rachel's fiancé, Tom Straub was a man with dreams of being more than just a supervisor for one of the Fairchild businesses, and this put Tom in a very awkward position.  Tom, concerned about the rumors because he feared for his job if Charles found out that he knew what Ann was doing, came home one night and told Rachel he couldn't let what Ann was doing go anymore; he had to tell his boss about Ann's burgeoning reputation and let the chips fall where they would.  “Everyone on the docks knows what's going on except Mr. Fairchild,” Tom said.

Rachel pulled a brush through her long, brown hair and turned hazel eyes on her fiancé. “Well don't tell him!  He might fire you.  I'm worried you will end up being the dead messenger.”

“She can't be allowed to continue like this; she has a bad reputation, and it's just getting worse.  How can she go from being protected all her life to a trollop?”  He shook a finger at Rachel.  “I don't know why she continues to disobey her father.”

Rachel took one final look at her image in the mirror and turned to face Tom.  She sighed deeply.  “I don't know either.  I guess because she's been kept in isolation most of her life. This is her chance to…”

“What?” Tom demanded.  “Soil her father's reputation as well?  Ruin his business?”

“No!  I'm sure she hasn't even thought of that.” Rachel turned worried eyes on Tom. “You don't think that will happen, do you?”

“It could very well happen!” Tom advanced a couple of steps.  “Look, she's got to stop or I'm going to have to tell her father and…”

“You don't have to,” Rachel said soothingly.  “We're not the only ones who know what Ann is doing.  Everyone knows.  Don't you know anyone who is friendly with Mr. Fairchild? Someone who could talk to him instead of you?”

Tom sank into a chair.  “Maybe.  But they'd have to be a customer – perhaps a large customer…”  He snapped his fingers.  “I know! George Clark.”  He looked up at Rachel, the plan furrowing his brows.  “He's one of our biggest customers and a good friend as far as I can tell.”

The next day, Tom mustered up his courage and went to see George Clark.  At first, George's eyes narrowed at the thought of a mere supervisor getting so involved in Charles Fairchild's business, but when Tom explained his relationship to Ann through Rachel, he released a tight smile.  “So, you think I should be the one to talk to Mr. Fairchild about his daughter?”

“Surely you've heard the rumors, haven't you Mr. Clark?”

George Clark nodded once.  “I ignored them as preposterous.”

“I assure you, they are not,” Tom said.

“Very well, I'll talk to Mr. Fairchild.  You, however, should not mention this conversation to anyone – especially not your fiancée or Mr. Fairchild. Keep it between us.”

Tom frowned.  “Rachel already knows I've come to you, sir.”

“Then tell her it goes no further.  You can keep a simple secret like this, can't you?”

“Yes, sir!”

George arranged a meeting with Charles the next day in his office.  Charles greeted George as he always greeted all his good friends.  “George, George, come in.  So what's on your mind? I thought our dealings were going along just fine. What's the problem?” he asked.  

“It's a personal matter, Charles,” George sighed.  “I'm afraid it affects both of us.”

“Oh?” Charles' wrinkled forehead displayed his concern and puzzlement.

“Well, I don't know how else to tell you this so I'm just going to say it,” George said taking a deep breath.  “It's about Ann.”  

Charles leaned forward.  “What on earth do you mean?”

“Charles, I've been your friend for a long time and it pains me to have to tell you this, but as your friend I must.”  Another deep breath, “Ann has developed a bad reputation around town.”

Charles bridled.  “What are you talking about, a bad reputation? She is a perfect young lady!”  

“Charles, hear me out,” George replied.

“Go on,” Charles said trying to relax. Then he leaned forward again, “You're telling me my daughter is sneaking out; where?  She's in bed when I turn in; I tell her good night every night.”  

George kept his gaze steady.  “She's been sneaking out, Charles.  People have seen her in the company of men.”  

“I don't believe that!” Charles spoke flatly, angrily.  “I know my daughter; men don't call on her. I don't allow it!”  

George nodded, as if in agreement, but added, “Everyone on the dock, everyone else knows it but you.”  He rose to his feet.  “I came as a friend, and I'm going to leave as a friend. I wouldn't be here if this was not true!”  

At Charles' stunned look, George offered some advice.  “Talk to Ann, Charles. Find out if it's true for yourself.”  He started toward the door.  “Again, I came as a friend knowing full well this would not be easy for you to accept, but only you can stop her before something bad happens.”

Charles was visibly shaken; he didn't know if he should be angry or sad.  He wanted no disruptions for the remainder of the day.  In the privacy of his office, he broke into tears.  He was in total disbelief that his daughter would disobey his wishes.  After several hours, he regained his composure and his thoughts and went home.  Still not totally convinced, he decided he would question Ann before he did anything else.  

Later when Ann arrived home, Charles sternly ordered her to come to his study.

“Father?”  Ann said, “You look upset.”  

Charles nodded and motioned to a chair.  “I feel terrible. Please sit down, Ann.  Today my good friend George Clark came to visit me.”  

“How is Mr. Clark?” Ann interrupted.

“Fine.”  Charles looked up, unwilling to let her distract him from his purpose. “He told me something that I can hardly believe, and it's tormented me all day.”  

Alarmed by her father's serious tone, Ann asked, “What is it that has you this upset?”

“He told me that my daughter was sneaking out of the house, sneaking out of my house to see men.”  Charles pointed a finger at her.  “I told him I didn't believe that; I told him that my daughter is a lady and she would not betray my wishes.”  

Ann colored and shifted on her seat.

“So after I got over the shock of hearing this news, I decided that you and I needed to talk.”  

At Ann's silence, Charles leaned forward slightly.  “I'm waiting, Ann.”  

“Father, I don't know where Mr. Clark got his information, but I would never disobey you.  When you told me I wasn't permitted to have callers, I will admit I was extremely upset, but I didn't ignore your wishes.”

As Ann spoke Charles sensed she was nervous and not being truthful.  “Are you being honest?  Don't you imagine that Lewey is in the stable?”  

“Why do you ask, Father?”  

“I think he will tell me the truth.”  

Ann turned pale; she knew Lewey, the coachman, would have to tell the truth; therefore she couldn't lie any longer.  “Mr. Clark is right. I have been sneaking out without your knowledge,” she admitted.  

Charles' hand trembled.  “It ceases immediately,” he demanded.  His voice was anguished as if he were in terrible pain.  “Is that understood, Ann?” he asked.  More firmly, he ordered, “Don't bother to ask to go anywhere overnight.”  

“I'm sorry, Father,” Ann replied meekly.

“I'll have to decide what your punishment will be,” he revealed tiredly.  “I just don't know right now.”

Dinner was very quiet with no conversation between them.  Ann was upset, eating little, and then asking to be excused.  She closed the door to her room and, knowing she had caused her father a great deal of pain, started crying.  

Throughout the week, not much changed. Feelings were strained and conversation was minimal.  Charles didn't invite anyone over for dinner.  On Saturday night, Charles summoned Ann to his study again.  

“Father, before you say anything, I want to apologize.  I know I have caused you tremendous pain and shame.  I'm so sorry, and I deserve whatever punishment I'm dealt.”  

Charles's mind was made up; he knew exactly what the punishment was going to be.  “This is what we are going to do, young lady,” he specified.  “We are going away for several weeks or perhaps more.  This week I'm going to inform Ted Steeley that he will be in charge while I'm gone; we are going up to the hunting lodge away from everybody and everything you like. When we return, you will enroll in school. Between now and when we leave, you are to stay in the house.”