“Now you carefully put weight on your feet and see how that leg feels.”
He did as she asked so slowly and carefully she nearly snapped at him to hurry up. He gave only a soft hiss of discomfort. “Not bad, but it is weak. I am not sure that swimming we did before helped it much.”
“As I believe I told you, I think the bullet stole a bit of the muscle in there and thatwillbe helped by swimming. The swimming builds up the strength of the muscle, limbers up any stiffness caused by resting it so long during the healing. Could you help them ready themselves for a short paddle in the water, Geordie?” She smiled her thanks when he nodded.
She gathered up the swimming costumes for the men and hurried off to her bedchamber to put her own on. As she changed, she mentally tried to allocate the hours of the day to all the chores she had to get done. It was going to be a full and busy day.
* * *
James yawned and walked out onto the front porch. As he sipped his coffee he thought about what he was going to do. Stay or wander some more. Then a carriage pulled up and he stood up straight. His family did not expect anybody to arrive, and he started to get a bad feeling.
The driver of the carriage got down, looked over the house, checked the numbers James’s mother had put up very prominently over the door, and then started toward him. James stared into the carriage and thought he saw movement, but then looked back at the man coming toward him. As the man stepped up on the porch, James heard a sound behind him, which let him know his mother was there and she had set the shotgun right next to the door. The man was slightly overweight and his tidily combed hair didn’t hide the fact that his hair was getting thin.
“Are you James Deacon?”
“I am. What are you wanting?”
“I am Mister Harold Hobbs, a lawyer. Just one more question—did you come to know a Jane Benson Haggert on the train to Boston? Her and her daughter?”
“I did. My friend Geordie MacEnroy, his brother Robbie, and I sat near them and had a chance to offer a helping hand.” James stepped to the side as his mother came out to stand beside him. “Geordie had a chat with them both. Has something happened to Mrs. Haggert?”
“I’m afraid so. She is dead, as is her mother. Some men broke into the elder lady’s home, and after they killed the old woman they tried to beat the truth out of poor Mrs. Haggert.”
“Morgan?” he asked.
“The child lives. The elder lady hid her under the stairs before she was caught and killed. For a while, Mrs. Haggert lived, but the beating was too harsh and she died of her wounds. She knew it was coming, for it took several days, and she called me in to handle the estate and told me what to do with her child. I was to bring her here to a certain Geordie MacEnroy. Your letter gave me the direction I needed. Is he here?”
“No.” For just a second, James felt a pinch of anger that the woman had not chosen him, but it passed quickly. “I know where he is though. I can see that the child gets to him.”
“Is he far away, as I should have a few words with him as well?”
“Not quite a day’s ride.”
“Well, I suspect we can arrange something.” He turned and walked back to the carriage to open the door. “Miss Haggert, could you step out, please?”
James heard his mother make a soft sound of sympathy when little Morgan stepped out, dressed in full mourning and clutching her wooden doll. The child took the man’s hand and allowed him to lead her over to the porch. She looked all round until her eyes fixed on him and he sighed at the sadness he could read there.
“Geordie?” she asked in a small voice.
“He isn’t here, Morgan, but I know just where he is staying, and it is not too far away.”
Mrs. Deacon stepped closer to the girl. “Would you like to come in for something to drink and a little food?”
Morgan glanced at the man with her and he nodded slightly, so she said, “Yes, please.”
James walked with the man as his mother took Morgan’s little hand and led the way into the kitchen. Once they were all seated around the table, James talked with Hobbs but kept an ear open to how Morgan was doing as she talked to his mother. He paused in his conversation to help his mother remove the mourning coat that completely enveloped the child.
“This is very fancy, Morgan. A lot for a little girl to wear,” he said.
“It was my mother’s when she was small. She wore it when her papa died.”
“Ah, a sad tradition to carry on.”
“I don’t mind. Do you know if Geordie found someone to help Robbie get better?”
James shrugged. “I fear I don’t know. I was soon going to see them, as I seem to have decided to stay here for now. It would be good if he did find someone. Robbie’s family has worried about him.”
“Because he hurts.”
