Chapter 15 #3
Narrowing one eye at him, she continued, though she was determined to pry the details from him another time. “To help raise money for Johnstown, John Philip Sousa gave a band concert.”
She pointed to the article and ran her finger along the print. “Buffalo Bill, who’s in Paris, put on a special production to help victims—and the Prince of Wales attended! And there’s some monstrosity of iron there now called the Eiffel Tower.”
He angled his body toward her to see the image of the structure. “That’s amazing.” He propped his upper body against the table as if she’d caused all his cares to evaporate on the wind. “Go on.”
She chuckled. “You actually enjoy my chatter?”
His voice dipped an octave. “I very much enjoy your chatter.”
Delightful chills started at her center and radiated outward. There was much more to this man than what bubbled on the surface, and she wanted to learn every facet.
“Tiffany & Co., R.H. Macy, the Astors, the sultan of Turkey, and even President Harrison have contributed funds.”
“That’s quite a list of influential people. Does it say anything about the Carnegies, Fricks, Mellons, or James Reed contributing?”
The first two names always sent her spirit tumbling. “It doesn’t.”
Though it didn’t surprise her. She knew well the heartlessness of Henry Clay Frick and Andrew Carnegie. Men like that were rich because they refused to part with their money.
Monty’s jaw hardened. “Didn’t figure it would.”
Annamae assessed the surrounding crowd. She’d debated within herself whether to share what she’d overheard yesterday and decided if she could confide in anyone, it would be Monty.
“Can we take a walk? There’s something I’d like to tell you. In confidence.”
He nodded but took his time leaving the table. His sudden reluctance to converse with her was confusing. Clara’s warning flitted through her memory. Was he afraid that walking with her unaccompanied might jeopardize his position within the church?
If that was the case, though, why did he sit down with her in the first place?
She allowed him to set the pace, which he set at slow. He buried his hands in his pockets. She recognized the gesture as something he did both when he was at ease and when he faced a difficult situation. Which mood was he in now?
The toe of his shoe sent a pebble skipping a few feet ahead of them. “Does what you want to tell me have anything to do with my seeing Edwin Booth perform?”
“What?” She chuckled. “No. Though I would like to hear more about that if you’re ever willing to share.”
Why he wanted to keep such a silly thing secret seemed odd to her. Perhaps it had something to do with his confession under the moonlight regarding Shakespeare.
His mood brightened. “What did you want to ask me then?”
The sudden change in aura nearly gave her whiplash.
“Well …” She looked around them. Any chance of an audience grew thinner the farther they walked from the commissary. Normally, she wouldn’t worry about being overheard, but she’d learned yesterday what all a person could glean if they kept their mouth quiet and listened.
She steered them even farther away. “Last evening, Clara asked me to instruct the nurses on duty how to clean the ticks using chloride of lime. While I was in the typhoid tent, someone brought in an Italian man raging with fever. He kept mumbling that he can prove the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club is responsible for the dam’s break. ”
Monty leaned away in surprise. “How?”
She shrugged. “He’s been in and out of consciousness since. I’ve also heard this club referred to as ‘The Bosses Club’ because it consists of powerful men from Pittsburgh who own factories and started the club to escape the smoggy air their industries create. Do you know if that’s true?”
“Did you read that in a newspaper?”
“No. I heard it from a colleague in Washington. He said several investigations into the club have opened about the matter. Though the names of these club members haven’t been released.”
Monty worked his jaw.
“If you hear anything else about this, will you please tell me?”
He rounded to face her, brows knit. “Why?”
She linked her pointer fingers together to keep her hands busy. Perhaps confiding in him wasn’t wise after all.
“What I told you the other night about my father? I’ve not told another soul since it happened. I trust you, Monty. Please. If you hear anything else regarding the club or the investigations, will you tell me?”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
She sighed. “I have my suspicions about who these powerful men are. They’ve destroyed enough lives, including mine. I don’t want to see them get away with it again.”
“And what do you expect to do about it?”
His displeasure hurt. “I don’t know. I only know I must do something.”
“If you’re correct in your suspicion, those aren’t the kind of men to trifle with, Annamae.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She inhaled and exhaled slowly to simmer her ire at his scolding. “I just want to be kept aware of the investigation. Victims everywhere are telling their stories, and if any of those details could aid in a conviction—”
Monty tugged her sleeve and pulled them even farther away from listening ears. “Why do you think it’s your responsibility to see them convicted?”
The agony of missing her father and the rage that followed when she recalled the circumstances that stole him away twisted within her. “Murder requires justice.”
He studied her for a long moment as if examining every layer to understand the true motive that lay beneath. His scrutiny invited vulnerability, her least favorite emotion. Guilt poked at her, but she pushed it away. Wanting justice was never something to feel guilty over.
He scratched his cheek. “I’ll keep you informed of what I hear if you promise to do the same.”
“Thank you.”
“But only if you promise to let the authorities handle anything we discover.”
“What if—”
He held up his hand and lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you’re correct and they were ruthless enough to murder one of their employees for cooperating with the union, they won’t think twice about silencing a young, pretty nurse with no family connections.”
She blinked.
“I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m trying to get you to see how they’ll view your involvement.”
Her pulse raced, both from their interaction and his comment. “You think I’m pretty?”
“What?” Realizing his confession, he grinned and shook his head sheepishly. “Is that all you got from my impassioned speech?”
“Was that part of the speech impassioned?” She held her breath.
The tension drained from his shoulders, and he relaxed his stance. “Well.” He smoothed the bristly hairs at his chin. “I believe in always telling the truth.”
Pleasure burst inside her and grew like a wilted flower stretching to the sun.
“Promise me, Annamae.”
“I promise.”