Second Chance Love. Shannon Farrington

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СКАЧАТЬ I need to visit Elizabeth. I can’t put this off any longer. For, once I begin reporting, I don’t know what my schedule will be like.

      “Sir, I appreciate that, but given that I’ve only recently returned from Boston, I’ve a few matters I must see to first. Would tomorrow suffice?”

      Carpenter squinted. “Why were you in Boston? I thought you said you’d spent your service here.”

      “I did.” He explained his brother’s passing and then his return home. He didn’t tell him why exactly he had come back to Baltimore. He hoped the man would not ask. David wasn’t certain what he would say if he did.

      “My condolences,” was all Carpenter said. “I should have noticed the black armband. See to what you must. Tomorrow will suffice.”

      “Thank you, sir.”

      “Before you go, though, let me show you about.”

      Carpenter reached for a cane that was hooked to the back of his chair. David hadn’t noticed it until now. The man rose somewhat awkwardly from his seat. Knowing his newest reporter was curious, he said, “No. It isn’t from the war. I was born this way.”

      David nodded but didn’t say anything. He followed the man as he hobbled toward the newsroom. The space was clean and well organized but much smaller than what David had been used to in Boston. A half dozen or so desks were scattered about. Only a handful of men claimed them.

      “Gentlemen,” Carpenter announced. “Our newest reporter, Mr. Wainwright. He comes to us by way of the Boston Journal.”

      The men nodded their respect. Their publisher/editor then pointed to each one, starting with an older gentleman wearing spectacles. “This is Mr. Collins, business manager. He handles our advertising and circulation.”

      David acknowledged him.

      “Mr. Russell covers local events. Mr. Detwiler, foreign news and finance. Mr. Ross, cultural events and daily humor.” To which Carpenter then added, “The ladies seem to like him.”

      David wasn’t certain if the comment was made in regard to the man’s articles or looks. He did not ask, however. He was still too busy taking in his surroundings. There were no artists, no copy editors, no other reporters present.

      Perhaps they are in another office or out on assignment, he thought. Surely this isn’t everyone.

      “Well, that’s about it,” Carpenter said, as if he’d read his mind. “For now, anyway. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, you’ll also be handling whatever comes in over the wire concerning the war.”

      David gulped. So he was to cover national news, as well? It was sink or swim. I wanted a chance to write, he thought. It appears I have one. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

      At that moment a boy, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so, came into the room. He handed Carpenter a proof copy of the day’s edition. Evidently the man saw to that job, also.

      “And this is young Mr. Keedy, our assistant,” he said.

      David shook the boy’s hand. Keedy was wide-eyed, and innocent-looking, much like David had been before the war. God willing, the suffering will end before this young man comes of age to serve, he thought.

      Carpenter dismissed Keedy, then motioned David toward the staircase. “Our press is this way...”

      The moment David smelled the ink and paper, his excitement stirred. This is what I was meant to do.

      Given the limited number of news staff, he half expected to find an old-style flatbed press churning out today’s edition. Much to his surprise, however, the Free American boasted a decent-sized rotary press, a Taylor Double Cylinder, in fact. It was a little worse for wear but functional. David wondered if Carpenter had acquired it from one of his competitors who’d recently been closed down.

      A handful of typesetters and pressmen were busy preparing the machine, their over sleeves and fingers stained black. Carpenter introduced each of them, then motioned for David to return to the stairs.

      “You change your mind?” he asked, as though he feared David had. “Want to try your luck at the Sun?”

      David chuckled but did not let on that he’d already been there and been turned down. “No, sir,” he said.

      “Good. Before you go, I’ve got some work I want you to take with you. Notes and outline are all in order. Just write the piece after you settle your business. It won’t take long.” From his coat pocket he pulled out a folded set of papers, handed them over.

      So you’ll have me start immediately after all, David thought, but he wasn’t the least bit put out. Rather, he was intrigued. “What is this?” he asked as he quickly perused the notes.

      “The city provost marshal, Colonel William Fish, has been arrested on charges of fraud and corruption. The man and his accomplices allegedly made a business out of arresting innocent citizens, accusing them of being rebel spies and whatnot, then interceding on their behalf.”

      “For a price,” David guessed.

      Carpenter nodded.

      “I see.” It was exactly the kind of thing that made David feel so strongly about returning to Baltimore. There was already the risk of a rebel invasion. Elizabeth and her family shouldn’t have to fear the predations of unscrupulous, greedy bureaucrats, as well. David was again pleased to see his publisher had the courage to cover such a story, even if it would cast a shadow on a member of the Union army.

      “I’ll have this on your desk first thing tomorrow,” he promised.

      The man nodded matter-of-factly, then hobbled toward the staircase. “Eight a.m.,” he insisted. “Sharp.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      His own inexperience, coupled with the workload, was going to make his job here at the Free American a challenge. Keeping Elizabeth and his brother out of his thoughts while doing so was going to be an even bigger one. Even so, David had a feeling he was going to like working in Baltimore.

      Leaving the paper, he returned to his room at the Hotel Barnum. The location worked well for his purposes, for the establishment was a fixture in Mount Vernon. This placed him in Elizabeth’s neighborhood, as well as close to the newspaper.

      Sitting down at a small writing desk, David looked over the very detailed notes and outline Peter Carpenter had given him. Colonel Fish’s court martial was to take place in the next few weeks. If convicted, the man would be sent to prison in Albany, New York.

      It was a straightforward, simple assignment. Although he wanted to dive right in, he didn’t. I can take care of this tonight, he thought, and he forced himself to leave pen and paper behind.

      Feeling much more uncertain than he had knocking on Peter Carpenter’s door, David approached Elizabeth’s house. The wreath on the front door and the black crepe that had draped the windows at the time of his brother’s funeral had been removed. In the garden, crocuses were in bloom and the daffodils were just beginning to flower. Spring had come, yet David wondered if winter still held Elizabeth in its icy grip.

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