Mankillers

“Poor mother.” The waiter held her chair. “She’s a strong woman, but after the loss of my brother and my husband and now father’s illness, I fear for her own health.”

“Please accept my condolences on your losses. Your mother’s indeed a remarkable woman to hold up so well under such tragic circumstances. As are you, Mrs. Drexel. We fight for our women, yet they seem to suffer the greatest hardships and pain.”

“One does what one must. Our faith teaches us that.”

It had been so long since he’d had a conversation with a member of the opposite sex that he found social intercourse with this charming woman disconcerting. He judged her to be a few years younger than himself, and despite her somber attire, very attractive.

“It’s getting crowded and noisy in here,” he remarked. “Perhaps it’d be wise for us to continue our discussion outside.”

Indeed, the room had become close and stuffy from the smoke of cigars and pipes, as well as the fumes of candles and coal oil lamps. Mingled too were the scents and aromas of the food being served.

She fa

Once they were on deck and standing by the rail, he began, “I can find no easy way to put this, Mrs. Drexel. In my opinion your father’s suffering from progressive mental deterioration, probably due to repeated blockages of tiny arteries to his brain.”

She bit her lips. “You mean he’s having little apoplectic strokes? Is there any treatment?”

“Unfortunately, none to my knowledge. The disease can advance rapidly, as it seems to be in your father’s case. I’m afraid he’ll require more and more care as time passes. Even now, someone should be with him all the time.”

Features set, she stared at the horizon. When she spoke a minute later, her voice trembled. “It’s so unfair. He’s such a kind and brilliant man. And a wonderful father.”

“I’m truly sorry. I wish I could be more encouraging. Maybe when you return home to familiar surroundings he’ll improve. I strongly recommend you obtain a second opinion as soon as possible.”

“Is there anyone you can suggest?”

“There are many fine physicians in Charleston, at least there were before the war. I have no idea who might be there now, but I can make inquiries when we get into port in the morning.” He had a sudden idea. “I’m on my way to Columbia, where Dr. Thaddeus Meyer, a renowned authority on dementia and a personal friend of the family, has his practice. I can write you a letter of introduction. I’m also pla

Sarah nodded. “I’ll do whatever Mother wishes. Thank you, doctor.”

He was tormented by the beauty and the sadness he saw in her dark eyes. She turned abruptly and walked away.

He went back to his stateroom, prepared to change the dressings on his patient’s back, but he found Asa sound asleep in his bunk and decided not to disturb him. Restless and hungry for the night air, he retraced his steps to the promenade deck. The rolling of the ship, which had bothered him at the begi

Tomorrow I’ll be in South Carolina. I thought I’d never return there. I thought I’d never want to. Yet where else can I go? I should call it home, but how can it be without Clay?

Clay. My baby brother. Lying in what will soon be an unmarked grave in the hills of Virginia. Murdered by a redheaded sniper.

Damn Columbia. Damn Jasmine. Once I get Asa safely to his father, I have but one place to go, and that’s after the mankiller who robbed my brother of his life.

But first I have to tell Poppa what happened to his favorite son. Will he blame me for not protecting him?

With a shaking hand he removed a cigar from his inside coat pocket and lit it on the third Lucifer. He was leaning against the rail, lost in troubling thoughts when a small hand covered his. Startled, he stiffened.

“I called your name several times,” Mrs. Drexel said nervously, “but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Please excuse my bad ma

“I keep imposing on you.”

“No imposition at all, ma’am.” He tossed his cigar into the ocean. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.”

Delighted, she mimed a flutter of her eyelashes and said in an exaggerated drawl, “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

The brief moment of levity embarrassed them both. A minute passed as the ship plowed over the sea.

Regaining her composure, she said, “Mother and I have decided to consult with Dr. Meyer, and to accept your kind offer to let us travel with you.”

“Good. Before I can leave Charleston, however, I need to make sure my friend Asa gets home, then I’ll arrange transportation for you, your parents and myself to Columbia. In the meanwhile I’ll be staying at the Isaac Hayne Hotel. When I know the final details of our trip, I’ll send a message to your home.”

“Thank you so much, doctor, you’ve been very kind.” Another moment elapsed. “Excuse me, this is none of my business, but something’s been puzzling me. If I’ve been observing your friend correctly—he appears to be suffering the same symptoms as my father. Is that possible? He’s so young.”

“The symptoms are the same. However, Asa’s problems are related to his recent experience at the hands of evildoers. Your father’s symptoms, conversely are the result of poor circulation to his brain.”

“I’m so sorry for your friend. Will he get well?”

“Hopefully, with the resilience of youth.”

They parted a few minutes later with unspoken but unmistakable reluctance. Buck retired to his stateroom, climbed into the top bunk and with images of the beautiful young widow in his thoughts quickly nodded off.

Suddenly he bolted awake with a sense of unease. Had he had a bad dream? It took a moment before he realized he couldn’t hear snoring in the bunk below him and the door to the passageway was ajar. He jumped down to the cold floor. Asa was gone. He tugged on his pants and ran outside.

Where was he? Seasick? Taking the night air?

He raced up the ladder stairs to the first deck and quickly strode it from stem to stern.

No Asa.

He climbed to the second level. There he was, one leg over the rail.

Buck’s heart stopped. My God! I thought he was getting better. He’s going to jump!

Chapter SIX

Sarah needed relief from the oppressive heat of the gloomy cabin and the loud, incessant snoring of her father. She was worried about him, especially since Dr. Thomson said he knew of no treatment or cure for his deteriorating condition. When her mother began to gently snore as well, Sarah knew she must escape. Rather than work her way into her black dress in the stygian darkness, she groped for the loose-fitting cloak with its cowl hood in the steamer trunk. The wool garment was too warm for this time of year, but the freedom of movement it afforded made up for it. Besides, it was perpetually windy on deck. The sea breezes would cool her.

She’d ascended to the second deck. It was deserted this late at night, so she was able to drop the hood to the back of her neck. The brisk currents of air tugged at her long, unfettered hair. She gloried in the sense of freedom it elicited. Leisurely, with no specific destination in mind, she strolled to the front of the vessel. Tonight the ship was ru