1901 (37 page)

“You mean the one who lost Ticonderoga to Burgoyne? No. We are a different branch of that family. Any relationship is now quite distant.”

As the afternoon shadows lengthened and dinnertime approached, they walked a little through the woods. Trina was quite agile as she navigated the narrow trails. The terrain was a very good reason not to wear a dress.

“When I was a little girl I liked to walk through the woods and think of fairy tales and trolls and things like that. It can be a scary place. Delightfully frightening when you’re small.”

“How much of this is your family’s?”

“From here to Oregon,” she replied with a straight face. “Are you really so concerned about how much my family owns?”

He flushed, confused. “Concerned? No,” he finally stammered. “But I confess to being intimidated. I’ve met people before whom I considered rich, but you are far beyond that.”

She took his arm and squeezed. “Well, don’t worry about it. Actually it’s rather pleasant being rich, and I’m not in the slightest ashamed of it. Some of my friends feel guilty that they have so much while others do not. I look on it as an advantage that gives me the opportunity to do things that might prove useful. I hope most of them will be for the right causes and reasons. At any rate,” she said merrily, “I have no intentions of giving it all away just so you can have more money than I do.”

A look at the sky told her they’d stayed outdoors later than they should have. “We have to get back for dinner. Wear your uniform and all the stars. It’ll impress my father more than you know.”

The largest dining room could seat fifty. With only four people present, they used the library and seated themselves about a mahogany table in front of a small but sparkling fire in a large brick fireplace that took up almost all of one wall.

Staying at the castle with Katrina’s father was a buxom, dark-haired woman in her early thirties who was introduced as Sylvia Redding. She was, the elder Schuyler explained, a widow and a companion. Katrina was slightly nonplussed at her presence, but she was polite. Patrick was also courteous. The woman appeared to be her father’s mistress, and she turned out to be quite charming. Jacob Schuyler, Patrick decided, had taste.

Whereas Sylvia Redding was charming, Jacob Schuyler was fascinating. About the same height as Trina, he was a powerfully built man with a full beard and mustache that were almost totally white. His equally full head of hair was also long and white and made Patrick conscious of his own darker, but thinning, top.

But it was the eyes that held Patrick. Deep blue and penetrating, like Trina’s, they radiated intellect and force. Jacob Schuyler was someone to be reckoned with. The foursome started the meal as “General” and “Mister,” but the relationship quickly evolved to a first-name basis.

“Trina has written me of you, Patrick. She is impressed by you, which is very interesting, as there is not much in this world that impresses her.” Trina flushed slightly at the comment; Sylvia smiled wisely.

“Well, I am impressed by her as well,” Patrick responded. “Perhaps more than impressed.” That earned him a gently placed foot against his leg under the table. “It seems as though we have known each other a very long time, even years, but it has been only a few short months.”

“Yes, war has a way of contracting and expanding time. Fortunately, I’ve managed to avoid war all my life. I’m sure Trina told you that I received a guard commission during the Spanish war but spent it entirely in New York. Probably for the better. You were in Cuba, I take it?”

With that, Jacob Schuyler began a gentle interrogation that resulted in a complete telling of Patrick’s life up to the time he met Trina. Schuyler seemed to be well versed in what Patrick was doing now, which led Patrick to realize that father and daughter were a little closer than he had at first thought.

“Most impressive,” Jacob said. “And when this is over, you are going to write?”

“I hope to. As well as teach.”

Jacob Schuyler nodded approval, took out a couple of cigars, and offered one to Patrick. He glanced quickly at Trina, who nodded a yes. Smoking in the presence of women was unusual. He lighted his cigar with a candle and drew in deeply. Again he was impressed. Jacob Schuyler liked very good cigars.

The rest of the evening was spent in congenial small talk, and they retired well before eleven. The next day Patrick was awakened early by a servant and informed that breakfast would be ready shortly. He dressed in hiking clothes and devoured a plate of eggs and bacon while Trina and Sylvia watched amused at his appetite. “Army food,” he explained between mouthfuls, “gives you an appreciation for real food.”

They walked again through the woods, this time with a small hamper containing sandwiches and cold tea. The surroundings were beautiful, and Trina finally confessed that her family owned a couple of thousand acres. “This is such a wonderful place. Almost my own little country.”

“Between here and New York, you must feel you have a perfect existence.”

Trina made a face. “New York? No, Patrick, that is not my home—this is. New York is where I went to school, bought my clothes, and enjoyed the theater; but this is where I return when I need some peace. New York is far too huge to call home. Do you know it now stretches almost sixteen miles up the Hudson? What’ll it be in the future? Besides,” she added sadly, “I wonder if the New York of old will ever return. Certainly not for a very long time. First we have to get rid of the damned Germans.”

Feeling slightly guilty, she asked how the soldiers under Patrick took to the idea of his going on leave.

“I don’t think they care, Trina,” said Patrick. “Since the situation seems to be fairly stable, commanders are allowing leave to the men on a rotating basis. Men who can’t make it home and back in the allotted time—we’re giving each man ten days—often meet loved ones halfway. In too damn many cases, those loved ones are trooping into the camp and taking my innocent soldiers away to the local hotels. God only knows what they’re doing,” he grinned evilly. “But I’m afraid we’re in for a tremendous population explosion in a little less than a year.”

Trina smiled in agreement. “I should be shocked, but I suspect they’re doing just what Heinz and Molly are.”

“With his arm in that huge cast? My, my.”

She covered her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment. “I asked her about that and she assured me there would be no problem. All he would have to do was lie there and she’d handle the rest.” Her face turned red as he roared with laughter.

He took her hand. “I think our world of innocence has ended forever as a result of this war, hasn’t it?”

She agreed. “Perhaps for the better. I’ve learned more about myself and about life and what I want out of it in the last few months than I did in the previous three decades.”

The remaining few days were spent in a pleasant round of talking, eating, hiking, and horseback riding. With Trina’s assistance, Patrick showed signs of becoming a passable horseman.

In the evening, the conversation included Jacob. Sylvia generally smiled and listened. Far from being stupid, she simply knew when not to intrude. Talking with Schuyler gave Patrick an insight into his fertile mind.

“Jacob, I understand you are going into the business of producing oil.”

“Producing oil? Certainly not. Messy, beastly stuff. Besides, there’s no real demand for it as yet.”

Patrick was perplexed. “But I understood you were out west establishing an oil base for the time when automobiles become popular. Aren’t you a believer in what Henry Ford has been trying to sell you?”

“Him? A narrow-minded pain in the ass.” Trina giggled and Sylvia smiled tolerantly. “The sad part about Henry Ford is that he’s right. Someday there will be a huge demand for an inexpensive and well-built automobile, and the first person who produces one will become rich. Filthy and disgustingly rich. If that obstinate man is the first to do it, I shall have to reconsider my belief in God.”

Patrick had not met Ford, but he knew others who had. They all agreed that he could be difficult. “Now I am puzzled. If I’m not being too curious, just what were you doing in the West if not getting into the oil business?”

“Ah, General, I prefer to think in terms of strategy, not tactics. I am in the business of producing money, not oil. What I have done is bought up drilling rights on land that is likely to contain oil. I will own those rights for twenty-five years with an option to renew for another quarter century. The current owners get some money from me with which they can buy additional cattle or goats or whatever the hell they think can live down there. While they do that, I wait patiently for the time when the oil can be removed for a profit.” He grinned happily at himself. “And that profit, I assure you, will be a huge one. I will not rush into the market.”

He puffed on the inevitable cigar and watched the smoke work its way about the beamed ceiling. “Let others pull the sticky, gooey stuff from the bowels of the earth. I will let them pay me dearly for the privilege.”

“And what if those nice Texas ranchers decide to cheat on you?”

“Doesn’t a good general send out scouts? Seriously, Patrick, I’ve retained people to keep a distant eye on things.” His face turned grim. “Some have indeed tried to cheat me in the past. They do not do it a second time.”

The next morning, Trina reminded Patrick that the current day would be their last full one together. He would have to commence his return journey the following morning. “We have done so many things together, and I’ve enjoyed it so much, I hate for it to end.”

Patrick agreed. The preceding days had been a wonderful and soothing experience. “I don’t want it to end either. Not ever.”

They had been walking toward an area near the house, but one he had not visited before. Thus it was with a small shock that he realized she’d brought him to a cemetery. “This is where a great many of the Schuylers are buried.” He walked through the score or more of graves and found a number from more than two centuries past. It was a fascinating history lesson. He turned to say something to Trina and saw her standing, head bowed and deep in thought, by a comparatively recent grave. He walked over and gently slid his arm through hers.

“My mother,” she said simply. “She died when I was twelve. Had she and the baby lived, I would have had a little sister. I wanted one for the longest time to help me aggravate my brother, and I felt guilty that my wanting a sister had caused her to die. Stupid, isn’t it? Now I come here when I need to clear my brain and pretend she’s giving me advice.”

“Maybe she is,” he said gently.

“Perhaps you’re right. She hasn’t failed me yet.”

“Did you get an answer today?”

Her smile was wide and her eyes twinkled. “Yes, I did.” She took his hand and began to lead him to the house. “Well,” she said brightly, “let’s do something different this evening after dinner. We’ve hiked and ridden, and even tried to fish, but you’ve never swum in our pool. Have you been avoiding that?”

“Trina, I swim like a rock.”

“I’ll teach you. I taught you to ride, didn’t I?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Not a problem, dear general. You can wear my brother’s. He’s just about your size.”

“What if I said I hated swimming and didn’t want to?”

“Wouldn’t matter. I’ve outvoted you. It’s my house and you’re my guest and courtesy says you must humor me.”

Later that evening, as he walked barefoot down the basement hallway toward the pool with a robe over his arm, he hoped he did not look as foolish as he felt. As a boy and later as a soldier, going swimming meant a bunch of boys or men peeling off their clothes and leaping naked into a pond or stream. Only rarely had he gone swimming in mixed company and in a proper setting, and right now he wasn’t comfortable. For one thing, the suit he’d borrowed reached below his knees and covered his arms. He might as well be going in the water in a full uniform. Worse, it appeared to be wool, and he wondered how it would feel when wet.

“Patrick, you look magnificent.” Trina was similarly attired, although in at least one more layer of clothing. Except for being barefoot, she was dressed demurely enough to be seen in public. For that matter he was barefoot as well.

“Is your suit wool?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“How’s it feel wet?”

“You’ll live. Now let’s get going.” With that she pushed him toward the door to the heated pool room. There was a small glass window in the door and they paused when they saw motion behind it.

Trina gasped. “Oh, lord.” Emerging like Venus from the pool was a totally naked Sylvia Redding. Water flowed down her voluptuous body and cascaded off her large, full breasts. Patrick, conscious of Trina’s embarrassment, grinned but tried not to stare. At least not too much.

“There’s Father,” said Trina. “Oh, thank God he’s wearing a robe.” They stepped back from the door. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Well, we better go back down the hallway then. Your dad’s coming this way and Sylvia now has her robe on and is right behind him.”

Like children caught in a prank, they scampered back, turned around, and pretended to be just arriving. As they passed the other couple, Sylvia smiled warmly; Jacob Schuyler looked puzzled. Patrick, who had days ago decided he liked the man, decided to further confuse him by winking.

Inside, they set their robes on chairs and climbed into the warm water, which was heated by steam. The pool was tiled, and large enough for them to take several strokes before reaching the far side. Patrick found the water quite pleasant and the suit not too uncomfortable.

“Well, sir, you do not swim like a rock.”

“Thank you.”

“But not much better. Your dog paddle is not very stylish. Here, reach out your arms and pull the water back toward you like this.”

He watched as her slender arms, white where the suit rode up, pulled her through the water with surprising speed and strength. After a few tries, he got the timing down and found that he was swimming much faster than he thought possible, and with much less likelihood of drowning.

After a while they stood facing each other in the shallow end of the pool. The water came just a little over Patrick’s waist, and he was very conscious of the way Trina’s suit clung to her body. He began to hope he wouldn’t embarrass himself.