© 1995 by Robert Nielsen© 1999 by The Robert Nielsen Corporation
Chapter Nine
Go to A Home in Which to Live site ©
© 1995 by Robert Nielsen
Gemma opened the door to see her family in the kitchen at the table, eating pancakes, sausages, with grated, fried potatoes and fresh scrambled eggs.
She couldn't help saying, "Full English breakfast for company, I see."
"Oh, Gemma." her mother said, a little irritatedly. "Please, sit down and have something to eat. We will need to leave well before 9:00 o'clock, and it's already after 8:30 as it is."
Her aunt Ann stood, handed her a plate, and said, "Here is something upon which to eat and here . . . my chair is something upon which to sit. I really must get a bit more fixed-up." She kissed Gemma on the cheek and whisked herself away into Joan's bedroom.
"I hadn't thought that it had taken me so long, mum. Sorry. Good morning, Jimmy. No jam on bread?" She took her plate, dished herself up some eggs and potatoes, and she looked over to her brother who just said, "No."
Gemma looked at her mother and asked, "He has had his fill, then?"
Joan looked at her with a somewhat disappointed smile and shook her head, side to side. Then, she went into the front room and started to try to pick up the large pot, used to melt the snow.
Gemma was right behind her and before she picked up her end, quietly asked, "Did you have a word with him?"
"Just help me get this into the sink and you get something to eat, before we have to leave, Gemma Lynn. Come on, girl. I would like for you to wear a dress as we are meeting your Uncle Harold."
Joan didn't seem very patient and looked a little tired as she poured the water into the sink. She walked over to Jimmy and asked if he would be eating any more.
Since he didn't seem to want to respond, she took his plate, scraped it off into the refuse can, and slipped it into the sink.
She took a pan of water into the front room and set it on the hot coals, sighed, and lay herself down onto Gemma's bed.
Gemma looked at Jimmy with an inquisitive look. He raised both his hands as though he had no idea what was the matter.
Soon, Jimmy walked over to his mother and asked if he looked all right. To which she sat up and said, "You look just fine, Jimmy, just fine."
She stretched out her arms and he wriggled his way up onto her lap. They sat there for a while as Joan rocked him back and forth.
It seemed to Gemma that her mother had gotten after him about eating bread and jam, again. She sighed contentedly, eating her eggs and potatoes. She would have asked if there was any more bread, but, wouldn't disturb them now, for the world.
Ann came out of the bedroom, shining like a new penny. She had on what looked like a brand new white blouse and a very pretty light blue, full-length skirt that looked as though it hadn't been too long ago since she'd bought it in a London shop.
Ann's bright appearance had picked up Joan's spirits, she took her older sister by the hand and they went back into the bedroom, whispering as they went.
Gemma finished her breakfast and when she put her plate into the dishwater, she found that it was so cold that it turned her hand red. She went into the front room, picked up the pan which had begun to boil, took it into the kitchen, and poured it into the sink just as the two women emerged from the bedroom.
They walked into the kitchen, behind Gemma as she began to wash the dishes.
Ann tried to make sure Gemma could hear her candidly say to Joan that she did look like their mother, "but we would have dye her hair with henna and flax before we could fool Harold, anyway".
Joan told Gemma that she would finish the dishes if Gemma would put on a proper dress.
They all hurried out to the buckboard after Gemma had dressed herself. They rode off down the lane with the children in the back, seated on a blanket. Ann had tied the horse she had hired to the back.
They had all brought their winter coats, but didn't wear them until the wind picked up, although, it was still a gorgeous day.
Ann drove the wagon in order to allow Joan to hold Jenny, for a change.
It was nice not to hear the wagon rattle so much as the road had not hardened very roughly since the thaw. But, there was quite a lot of mud and it was a little hard on the horses, so they had to stop a few times to let them rest.
There was not a lot of conversation on the way into town, except when they stopped to let the horses take a breath. Gemma asked them quite a lot about her grandmother Stewart and they didn't mind telling her that in her face she didn't look like her grandmother at all, but in her frame, especially her shoulders, she fit their late mother to a tea.
As the wagon began to drop down off the last rise west of Mancos, they could see the train was steaming in the station, taking on passengers.
Ann flicked the horses gently (WHAT ABOUT URGED THE HORSES ON) and they picked up a little speed as she asked Joan if she'd been able to hear the train pull into the station, earlier.
Joan turned and asked Gemma if she had heard anything, but she hadn't, either. This made Ann even more nervous about Harold and his insistence on everyone's being punctual, especially when it came to travel. Then, she saw him standing on the platform, looking at his pocket watch.
"There he is, now." Ann spurted. "He'll tell me how long it has been since the train has pulled into the station, and how long he's been waiting on the platform. Oh, I so hate to be late for him. He'll be in a right state, he will."
Joan smiled, thinking of what Ann had said fifteen years ago. "Tell him to stuff it!" she said as though she were insisting.
Ann gave her a strange look, and then, quite like she had decided to take Joan's advice, asked, "Gemma, will you take one of those burlap bags, from under the seat, and give it to your uncle Harold to stuff it in? I'll be on my way to the nearest pub, pro-curing painkiller. I am hoping that he may be winded enough, running after me, not to bruise me thoroughly black and blue."
"He wouldn't, really." Gemma appealed. "Would he?"
"No, dear heart. He really would not. Sometimes, I just feel as though he has. Even that is an exaggeration. It's really a case of wanting so much to please someone and feeling as though you've let them down." Ann looked at Joan, who had a somewhat distant look. "Is that very far from the truth?"
Joan adjusted her countenance. "No, Ann, Not at all far from the truth. I have so often blamed myself for things over which I have had no control. And, Ben would try to help me to see that. And, more times than not, I would think that he was trying to indict me, rather than attempting to prevent a recurrence. Although, I would also feel that he would rather I were an half an hour early so that he didn't have to wait five minutes."
"Only an half? Mine has suggested a full hour." Ann joked. She laughed a bit apprehensively; her angst due more to her longing for Harold, than to her fear of his perfectionism."
These were too many contradictions for Gemma's liking. She held on to Jimmy which helped to stabilize her on the bumpy road, dried by its facing the east and increased traffic merited by its closer proximity to the town center.
Ann soon turned onto a peripheral route to the train station which was on the northwest corner of the town.
C'est La Guerre (Such is War)
Harold saw them as she turned the corner and headed east down the street. He waved and laughed as they pulled the buckboard up to the front platform.
Uncustomarily, Harold Langley jumped down from the walk and ran up to the wagon, held out his arms, and said, "There's my darling, looking bright eyed, bushy tailed, and on time, to say the least. How are you? And, how is your sister, Joan?" He looked over to Joan as though he had addressed the question to her.
Joan gave him a nice smile and politely said, "I am fine. Thank you. And, you are looking well. How was the train this morning? Have you had breakfast? And, would you like to join me for a bite to eat over at the cafeÉ?"
Gemma didn't know her uncle very well and thought of him as somewhat full of himself, but Jimmy was fascinated. He stood up in the back of the wagon awaiting his turn to receive his notice and a bit of attention.
Harold looked at him a little disquietedly, thinking to himself that most boys his age were rather frightened of men whom they had not met personally and grown to know. He respectfully and very cordially answered Joan, as he took his wife's hand, touching it to his cheek, "The entire trip went very well and I thank you for your concern. I did have coffee and a muffin on the train, this morning, and I am not the least bit hungry. But, thank you, nonetheless". He gave Ann's hand a gentle squeeze and craned his neck to see Gemma. "Now, I do remember this young lady when she was just a small girl but, who is this fine looking young man? It couldn't be the infant that I remember his mother, so carefully, carrying in her arms, not so long ago."
Jimmy couldn't seem to avoid his embarrassment.
Joan smiled and became a tad more personable. "Was he bigger than this one?" she said, referring to Jenny who was sleeping soundly in her arms.
"I do believe so."
"That's the one." Joan was proud of the fact that Jimmy had finally outgrown his clingy stage. He was almost two years old when Harold had last seen him as Joan had carried him up the gangplank when they boarded the ship to leave Liverpool.
She wanted to have a private chat with Harold about her finances and didn't want to wait until they had arrived at their hotel. "Harold, do you think you could stand another cup of coffee? I thought we might take the opportunity to discuss the rental arrangements, which you have made for us in Wales while I send the children with your wife to shop for their clothes. Would that be alright with you?"
"That would be fine, Joan. Would you be willing to take our luggage with us in the wagon? I thought that I might save a bob, or cents, on the transport." He smiled and kissed Ann's hand.
"Certainly, Harold", Joan said. "If I may, I would like to invite you to come out to see our little place, here, just east of town, and to have a thanksgiving meal. Does that sound alright, for tomorrow?"
He stepped up onto the hub of the wheel, took Ann into his arms, and stepping back, he lifted her up off of the seat. As Ann laughed and protested, he said, "I have been almost fifteen minutes in your presence and I can resist no longer."
"Harold. Answer Joan's question”, Ann said sternly, but with a laugh. “We will be together, tonight, I promise. My sister needs to know about the legacy and I'm going to go to shop for clothes with her children. Put me down and tend to her business. We shall tend to ours, soon enough."
He set her down and looked at Joan, shrugging his free shoulder.
Ann straightened her hair and asked, "How is it that you've said that we are on time, Harold?"
"Well, I believe it is because the train was about seven minutes early. You saw the train in the station when you were coming down the hill and you were afraid that I would let you have it, when I confronted you with what you had supposed. I must apologize, love. I suppose that I have been rather dreadful about punctuality," Harold cordially conveyed.
Ann couldn't believe that she was hearing Harold apologize without compulsion of any kind, especially about an obsession such as his with other peoples’ punctuality. That was his favorite pet peeve. However, Ann folded. "Uh, no, dearest. Not at all.”
Joan reached down, handed her sister the baby, and began to help Gemma to load their luggage onto the wagon as Harold continued, "I have listened to myself and I must admit it, dear heart. I have been quite intolerable. And, I mean to change. Henceforth, I shall make an effort to be more patient with people, especially, with my darling wife."
"What on earth has set you onto this? You are also in such a good mood. Just what is it that has happened, Harold?" Ann said, giving her husband a genuinely suspicious look.
"Ann, darling. I awoke this morning in a strange bed, in a strange town, and you weren't there. I realize that this is not the first time I have been away from your side, even for greater lengths of time. But, with the journey upon which we have so unfortuitously embarked and the passing of such a good man as your brother-in-law has, to say the very least, caused for me to have waxed introspectively toward my better person. I have found myself wanting. And, I remembered that when I heard you cry for mercy, out on the ocean, during the violent winds. I felt that, 'I had best let Ann pray for us, the crew, the captain, for Joan, and her little family, because He's not going to listen to me'. Ann, darling, that struck me last night, before I went to sleep. When I arose, this morning, I had to thank Him, for you, for our lives, and for all that we have, which is really quite a lot."
"It is, that." Ann said. She was so pleased that she kissed him right there, in front of Joan, her children, even the station master who was passing with a last call for departures to the north.
Being ever so careful of the child Ann held in her arms, Harold held her close and did not ever want to let her go. "I shall never want to lose the love that we have. Nor, do I ever want to loose you, my love." He held her a little tighter and noticed that Joan was pulling on the reigns of the horses as the steam vented from the train's engine.
He looked up to Joan and said, "My wife has told me that I must loan her to your children, that they may shop for their clothes. Will you be disposed to having coffee and a chat, while they are away, good woman?"
"That sounds very nice, kind sir. C'est agrable avec sa femme?" Joan, trying to be as polite as possible, was indirectly asking her sister if this was her will.
Ann returned, "C'est ne pas grave. De guerre lasse". In other words, 'That's not so bad; for the sake of peace and quiet'.
Harold, who understood very little French, misconstrued his wife's intimation. "To which war were you referring?"
Gemma picked up on this right away and contributed, "She was likely referring to the war between the states, those of order and chaos."
When they heard the 'All aboard!' the two families quickly seated themselves in the buckboard as the train's whistle blew.
Ann gave the baby to Gemma and Joan drove the wagon out to the east, in order to avoid the train, then drove back to the west and into town.
They rode into the town, arrived at the Hotel in a short time, and looked up at the tallest building in Mancos. It was all of three stories tall.
Harold looked over to Ann and said, "Not exactly the Bell Inn but, it will do, for a week".
A short young man in an ill fitting suit from the 1860's who had sandy brown hair and a bushy mustache walked out of the front door of the rather cubically shaped building. He began to take in their luggage. Harold handed his brief case to Joan while he and Ann went inside to book themselves a room.
Gemma tried to persuade Jimmy to hand Ann's overnight bag to the porter, but he was a little frightened of him. So, Joan ended up reaching under the seat and fetched it for him.
Soon, Ann and her husband reappeared looking as though they just had spent the first three days of their honeymoon in their room and were now greeting the new world for the first time as man and wife.
Harold escorted Ann to the wagon and literally ran back up to the door to tip the porter.
He walked back to the group, prancing as cock-sure as you please. "This is a fine looking pair of horses, Joan. Did Ben acquire them here in Mancos?" he said, as he rubbed each horse's forehead. "This is an American breed, the Appaloosa, if I am not mistaken. They were developed by the Nez Pierce Indians, I do believe."
Joan was silently impressed with his understanding of livestock. "That's right. He received them as payment for a job he did at the livery and feed store, early this summer."
Harold walked around the wagon and climbed up onto the seat. "I must say, they most certainly are an extraordinary pair. Very beautiful. And, they are so much alike."
"Why, thank you, Harold", Joan said with genuine gratitude. "Shall we proceed? I would like to be home, well before dark, if at all possible." Needless to say, Joan was quite eager to find out what it was that Harold had to tell her about the legacy.
As Joan turned the wagon into the street, Harold opened his brief case, took out a hundred dollars, handed it to Ann, and said, "Joan, this is an early Christmas gift for your children.
"Ann, dear, I trust that you will see to it that they shall not only have some of the things they will need, but, also, a few of the things that they want".
"Certainly. I'll do that, just as you have said." Ann was so pleased with the change in Harold. It hadn't been much more than twenty-four hours since she had seen him last and it seemed as though he was an entirely different person. Not knowing that what he had said to her at the train depot was about all there was to it, she had decided to wait until they had the privacy of an evening together to see why he no longer placed such an earth shattering emphasis on economical frugality, conservativism, and prudence. ($100 in 1896 could probably buy more than $1500 worth of goods, today.)
Harold had grown up in very impoverished circumstances, not that his family was poor, but his father was such a miserly skinflint who wouldn't share any of his abundance with his sons, at all. One day, Harold had left his father's poor farm stables, as he called them, to take a job with a wealthy racehorse breeder, just south of Chapel en le Frith, mucking out the stables and tending the horses.
He had worked his way up to stable manager by the time he had met Ann Stewart, married her, and was ultimately invited by his father, to take over the livery shop in Gloucester.
His father had wanted to try to make amends, having already driven off two sons, Richard and Wallace, to the army in 1853.
Unfortunately, they had both been killed in the Crimean war, November 5, 1854, at the battle of Inkerman. Harold had been born, just days before their death, on November the fourth. And, his father had been taking his loss out on Harold, ever since. Finally, when arthritis had made it too difficult for Richard James Longely Sr. even to sign his name, he sent for Harold to take over his business.
Despite the grief that his father's attitude had caused --'A fight for it and earn it through yer' own might and main strength or a don't even think to eat bread at my table', damned if you do or starve if you don't.Harold had still ended up taking it out on Ann, to one degree or another. He had not actually deprived her of anything, but very subtly caused her to feel that he may.
The many evening meals Harold had gone without, for not having convinced his father that he had accomplished enough that day, had taken their toll.
Some time after they were married, Harold had finally told Ann about why he never would go home to visit with his parents, not even to see his mother, Jane, who had always done the best that she could to try to protect him from hunger and deprivation. Any time Ann would think of what he had told her, it always made her shudder.
Deep in the back of Harold's mind, he knew that this was the real reason that Ann had always been so hesitant about having any children, regardless of how cleverly she could deny it, or what she could conceive to cover up her concerns.
And now, Harold had finally come to the point that he felt he could forgive himself for all the resentment with which he had been burdened and, even more importantly, he felt that he could finally forgive his father.
Eventually, Harold and Joan seated themselves in a clean little caf�on Main Street, just a few doors north and across the street from where Ann had taken the children into a millinery shop.
Jimmy wasn't at all enthused, Gemma didn't very much like hats, and their aunt had to pretend she might like to get one for herself, in order to start off their little shopping excursion. And, to converse, at least with Gemma, about some of their likes and dislikes.
There weren't all that many places to look for clothing items, but Joan had informed her as to what was essential and Ann thought that she might like to try to play it by ear.
Early that morning at breakfast, the two women had reminisced about how they once had such a great time rummaging through people's cast off clothes (trying them on and imitating different types of people) at one of the church's charity 'bring and buy sales', when they were young. And, how the vicar finally had to ask for them to leave because some of the women who were there managing the sale, had donated some of the clothes with which they were so joyfully, frolicking.
A lovely memory and a very charming aspiration, however, their musings had taken place at a different time and in a different part of the world, altogether.
In Mancos, there weren't that many enticing things to fetch the imagination to fascination, at all.
The main purpose of the children's outing was to give Joan and Harold at least an hour of interruption free time to discuss financial matters and give them a short time to visit and become better reacquainted.
When Harold began to list the current measure of her assets, Joan practically fainted and had to ask for more water.
He felt quite safe in disclosing the full extent of the corporation's holdings as he thought that she may well end up owning most of it, eventually, provided that she didn't have an altercation with Ben's father, Jonathan, before he passed on.
"Ben's father is still alive, Joan. He is almost sixty-six years old, now. I haven't told Ann this, but he had been released from the hospital and had sent me a telegram informing me of Ben's death before I left the livery shop, prior to my arrival at home, the evening when we planned to come here. As a matter of fact, he has been romancing the idea that I should begin to groom Jimmy to take over for him, someday. In that I hadn't actually formed any opinion, Jonathan must have thought that I ha d tacitly agreed to the idea. I merely shook my head to respond when he brought it up about two years ago, since he had already made the arrangements for the legacy to continue to Ben. Jonathan wanted for me to come out to Nantucket, back then. But, I was able to delay his request having some work to attend in Gloucester."
Joan was trying to imagine what a man might be thinking under those circumstances. "My sister would have jumped up and down on your head while you were standing, had she known."
"Exactly. As a matter of fact, she still may jump up and down on my head. Which is why, I must wait until just the right moment to tell her", Harold said and set down the menu, alerting the waitress that he was ready to order.
Joan had to offer to advise, as it was the first time she ever had felt he might give it any consideration. "If you would like the advice of a veteran, of a woman and a wife, that is. I should think that you may want to trust her. After all, it wouldn't take an half a second for her to realize just how difficult it is for you to admit it. Harold, I know my sister, quite well. Well enough to know that she would feel it a very kind thing to say, by implication, that she is so well trusted. And, we both know, that a kind word has a great deal of power to douse the flames of anger."
Harold had put a look upon his face which was extremely rewarding to Joan, who had a particular interest in her sister's happiness. He didn't make any comment on the matter, but in his eyes she could see the quality of their relationship blossoming, as never had before.
He took up his brief case and withdrew a very old folder.
"Jonathan drew this up on the day that Ben was born, so it is very fragile. I'll need to take this back to Cardiff and place it back in the family vault, when Ann and I return. So, I advise you to touch it as little as possible." He opened the folder, placed it on the table in front of her, and took out a newer document. He placed it on the folder cover and pointed out a passage in the middle of the page. "That is the full amount of the legacy, to date, and here is a list of the rental properties." He found another paper and handed it to Joan.
The amount was well over a quarter of a million pounds and Joan stared out of the window at her children across the street, entering another shop. Slowly, she began to convey what Ben had purported, to her, long ago. "This is a continuation of Jonathan's inheritance from his father, Llewellyn. Ben once told me that the tradition of this type of inheritance, or birthright, dates back to his relation to David I and Joan, daughter of King John. Apparently, or, at least according to family hearsay, Joan secretly had a daughter, in 1194, who was taken to Powys and raised by those who were loyal to the welsh Prince of Wales. Jonathan isn't planning to wrest control of Wales from the British crown. Is he?" she said, half joking, and half afraid of some of the things that Ben had told her about his father's delusional aspirations of power and title.
As Joan carefully examined the list of rents in Pontypridd, Wales, Harold responded, "Jonathan has mellowed considerably, with age, Joan. Ben spoke with me, at length, about his concerns on that very issue. And, since I have been in Jonathan's service, I have paid quite close attention to his attitudes and opinions. I know I can safely maintain that he is not planning a political coup to seize control of Wales. Although, if his health were any better, I might be a great deal more concerned about his tendencies to evaluate and control other people's thinking and behaviors. "There were times when he would get an idea to affect something which wasn't particularly to his liking and go over every option at his disposal to try to improve matters or conditions in a manner that would result in a more favorable outcome, in his way of thinking. However, I am afraid that his memory isn't quite what it used to be and about nine times out of ten he would have lost his grasp on that which he had conceived, before I had even begun to leave his office. And now, since he has been out of the hospital, he doesn't seem to have any desire to plot much of anything, anymore. Perhaps what it was that ate at Ben most, was the simple fact that Jonathan felt it was any of his business, in the first place."
Joan was grinning at Harold and felt that she should let him in on her delight. "For some reason, Harold, it is so much more pleasant hearing all this from you than it was hearing it from Ben. This is likely due to the fact that Ben was his father's son."
Harold understood Joan's intimation. "Indeed. Ben would tend to go on about it. But, from what I have gathered, Ben was more anxious about how the exterior would effect the interior, than how he might inflict his thinking, or desires, upon people and conditions with which he had no prerogatives, whatsoever."
"Now that you've mentioned prerogatives," Joan began her query, "I thought that I might have you clarify one point. Not that I have any will to do so, you understand, but if I were to have a mind, could I sell any one of these properties, in Pontyprydd? Or, are they in trust? Do I now own them, outright? What are the conditions, Harold?"
"Actually, they are ceded to you on a trust option. It would be possible for you to sell any of these properties, provided that you change this condition, on any particular property. However, you must attain the permission of the grantor, Jonathan Evans. He has had this legacy in effect, in almost this same condition, ever since you went through Ellis Island. He drew up an addendum, at that time." Harold searched through his brief case, pulled out a three-page copy of the addendum, and handed it to her. "You could have had access to these rents, had you contacted Jonathan, or myself. I hope that you will forgive me for not having contacted you about this money, which has been at your disposal. I was under strict orders not to contact Ben or to tell Ann about this, so that Ben would not find out. Jonathan went so far as to tell me that 'when Ben falls flat, he shall then know upon which side his bread is buttered'."
Joan suddenly noticed that tears had begun to roll down his cheeks. It almost gave her a start to think that she ever would see Harold displaying such deep felt emotions. She saw the waitress approaching and held up her hand, palm forward, to delay her for a short time.
It didn't take very long for Harold to speak. "Joan, I had such mixed feelings when I read the telegram from Jonathan. I'm afraid that my first thoughts were those of relief. I hadn't realized just how much that it had weighed upon me, not being able to communicate with you, two. I felt I had to bury it. And then, I was angry with Jonathan, for his having placed me in such a position. I felt so very cheated. Then, the thought of that friendship, for which I had been deprived which I had lost all hope of retrieving, came spiraling down upon me, incessantly mingling with the rest of my feelings. And, as I walked the three streets home, the thought of the loss of our Ben came to me. "It hurt, Joan. I reasoned that the worst thing that could happen to us all was for me to be overcome by grief. So, as soon as I had spoken to Ann, I walked back over to the stables, saddled a horse, and rode down to the docks to charter the fastest ship to New York. I can't even remember what it was that I had planned for that next day. And, it still escapes me."
The waitress walked up to the table and gave them a curious look. But, before she could speak, Joan told her that the coffee was all they would be having.
She filled their cups, smiled brightly, and didn't speak as she quietly moved off.
Joan noticed that she didn't stay to clear anything off of the table, either, wanting to leave them to their chat. Joan thought to herself, 'What a good server', and set down a whole quarter dollar, for a tip.
Harold gave Joan an astonished look.
"A well deserved gratuity, for an understanding heart. N'est pas?" Joan said with wink.
Harold saw in Joan a quality that he so much adored in his own wife, and softly cheered her generosity, "Bravo, madame. I like her, too". Then, he spoke with a bit more serious tone. "If it will be possible, I would like to travel to Durango, the day after tomorrow. I have deposited a bank draft for $5,000 at the Bank of Durango, which I have taken the liberty of drawing from the legacy funds, for your immediate use. And, here is a check for $325 for the rents from the properties in Wales. The monthly check may be a little more, in future, when I send them in the mail. I haven't had much of a chance to make very many of the calculations, necessary. But, I believe that I can do a little better than this, as time goes by. Will this be adequate for the present?"
"Quite adequate, Harold. Thank you, so much. If I would need anything more, should I write to you at this address, here on the letterhead? Or would you prefer that I wrote to you, at home?" Joan questioned, trying to cover every exigency or predicament that might arise.
"Under normal circumstances, I will only travel to Cardiff, once every week" Harold began. "Therefore, I would suggest you mail any correspondence to me at home. Although, if it's not an emergency, you could mail it to me at this address in Cardiff. However, it may pique Jonathan's curiosity and I am afraid that he would question me on the matter, until he had achieved a great deal of satisfaction. Joan, I would suggest that we make arrangements to have another large sum transferred to a bank in Denver or even another bank in Durango. Although, I would prefer that you would open an account in Denver. Needless to say, this is your decision."
Joan thought for a moment and asked, "Why would you prefer that I open another account in Denver, rather than in Durango?"
He looked down at the papers and smiled rather slyly. "You see, the chances of two banks being robbed at the same time, are even less than the chances of one bank being robbed. And, the chances of the Bank of Durango being robbed, are greater than the same, happening to a Bank in Denver. Since we have approached the turn of the century, statistics are showing that banks, even out here in the western United States, are becoming more and more secure. And, I do believe, that we could even insure your account, say, of $10,000, should you decide to choose the Bank of Denver. Although, I haven't examined the numbers, but I think that it might be close to two dollars per month, for full coverage. Jonathan's insurance company has even offered to insure a few of the banks on your eastern coast, against fire, theft, and robbery. These banks, which we have offered insurance, have indicated that our rates are too high. The disadvantage, Joan, is that it would take about ten to twelve weeks for us to be able to investigate and pay on a claim. That is, if everything goes well." He stirred his coffee that the waitress had recently brought, as he poured in a spot of cream.
Joan stared at Harold with a very awestruck look.
Harold continued. "It makes you wonder if anyone insures their banking, at all. Well, hardly anyone does. I can't really go into any more about it. Or, I would rather not. I hope I haven't stirred you up, so much as this cream."
Joan sipped her coffee then shook her head to the negative. "No, Harold, not at all. I think that I shall take your advice and deposit another large sum in a Bank in Denver. And, I shall also insure that account with full coverage. If it would not be too much trouble for you to, perhaps, expedite matters and have the money to me out here in, say, nine or ten weeks. That is, should the worst happen and you cannot hurry things along."
Harold seemed a little stunned.
Joan continued, "Harold, I know that a robbery can happen, anywhere. As a matter of fact, just last night, the sheriff caught a bank robber . . . Or, I should say, he shot and killed a bank robber out behind our work shed."
Now, she was having some fun with him. "Couldn't have been two hundred yards, just south by southwest of the cabin."
By now, Harold had turned extremely pale and was shaking. "Was Ann out there?"
"No, no, of course not. She was in the cabin, huddled on the floor with the rest of us. Oh, don't worry, Harold. I had a gun, loaded and ready."
"Oh. You had a gun?" He took a drink of his coffee.
Then she, quietly and with as much calm as she could bear, said, "Aren't you glad I had one?"
His eyes were as wide as half dollar pieces. His face was as white as a human's skin can become and he looked faint. He was leaning over the table, moving slowly back and forth.
Joan felt a bit disappointed in herself and would have sat over next to him, but Ann, Gemma, Jimmy, and Jenny were looking in the window wondering what her frantic look meant.
She motioned for them to come in, with an urgent wave of her hand, and went over to talk to him. "Harold. Harold, don't you have something for me to sign which you wanted Ann to witness? She's here, now. She's just coming in the door. Harold! Watch the baby, Harold."
Harold had just sprung up and took his wife in his arms as he exhausted an immense sigh.
Joan thought she had best explain this to Ann, and quickly. "Oh, Ann. I'm afraid that I have just told him about the Sheriff having shot the outlaw last night. I am so very sorry, Ann. Harold, I hadn't thought that you would take it quite like this."
Harold had begun to revive and said, "I am all right, Joan. It's just that I had a dream last night in which I saw my wife, floating down a river, quite like the River Severn. And soon, all that I could see of her was her arm, waving to me. And then, all that I could hear was the sound of my name, gurgling up from the deep from her last breath."
Ann handed the baby to Gemma. She and Joan took Harold and sat him down on his chair.
Ann began telling him, "Oh Harold, . . . we were fine. The law was just behind him, not three hundred yards, and . . ."
"I know." He interrupted. "And, Joan had a gun. But, that's not the point. You see, someday, one of us is going to die. And, then the other shall die, some time after. Where will you be, then? And, where shall I? That is the big question."
Web site content © 2000 by Robert Clark Nielsen