The Final Adversary (3 page)

He blinked his eyes, trying to focus. Somehow he felt as if he’d stepped back into time. One of those times he’d come home from play, and his mother had met him, held his cheeks, and kissed him, saying what she said just now.

“Hello, Barney.”

His mother!
It didn’t make sense. Then he saw his father watching him with a strained look on his face. Andy! Esther! They were all there!

The roaring in his ears increased. He couldn’t think clearly. Finally, he ducked his head and said in a husky whisper, “Hello, Mom.”

Then he looked around and blurted out the words he thought were sealed forever: “This—this is my family.”

CHAPTER TWO

Caught!

Tony Barone perceived immediately that Mark Winslow was an important man, so made the most of it by commandeering two carriages to take them to Antoine’s, one of New York’s best dinner clubs. There he slipped the head waiter twenty dollars to give them a good table, then arranged the seating, placing himself between Kate and Barney, with the boxer’s family across from them.

During the conversation, Tony sensed the tension between the Winslows and Barney and made a mental note to find out why. The six-course dinner, served by a waiter and two assistants, began with oysters on a half shell and ended with delicate servings of ice cream. Between the oysters and the ice cream there were soup, fish, guinea hen and salad, vegetables, and side dishes of salted almonds and celery stuffed with cheese.

“Come on, Katie,” Tony coaxed as the waiter brought a French white wine with the first two courses. “Drink up.”

“Oh, Tony, I don’t know—”

He had already discovered she didn’t drink. Her father had been a drunkard, and when Katie left home, she’d promised her mother she wouldn’t drink.

“Why, this isn’t liquor, Katie,” he told her. “It’s only
wine!
People in Italy drink it instead of water.” He poured her a glass and urged her on. “This is just part of learning to be with people—important people. It’s not good manners to sit there while others are drinking. Go on, just a sip.”

He noted with satisfaction as the meal progressed that she drank two glasses of white wine; then when champagne was served with the third course, she had two of those as well. “See? It’s good for you,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “That wasn’t so bad, was it now?”

Katie had been stimulated by the wine, though she didn’t realize it. Her cheeks grew pink and she began to talk more than Tony had ever heard her. By the time the meal was over, she was laughing at Tony’s jokes and accepted his invitation to dance.

“I don’t know how to do this dance,” she giggled as they moved across the floor.

“You’re doing fine, Katie—just fine,” he said, holding her close for the waltz. “Say, did you notice that something’s going on between Bat and his folks? They ain’t sayin’ much of anything to each other.” He was thinking ahead. “But the old man is rich, and it’s always good to know rich men, Katie. Maybe he’ll back you in a broadway show or something. Be nice to him, kid.”

“They seem like a nice family,” she said. “But I probably won’t see them anymore.”

When the music stopped they returned to the table, where Benny Meyers was lauding Barney’s accomplishments. “Why, folks, you got to be real proud of this boy! He ain’t got much science about him, but he’s tough! He’ll be champeen inside two years, I tell ya.”

“It’s a hard way to make a living,” Mark countered.

“The way Cleveland has let things go to pot, Winslow,” Tony interjected, “a man’s got to make a living any way he can. Why, even the Union Pacific’s having a hard time keeping afloat, they say. Anything to that?”

He referred to the economic panic that swept the country the previous year. Thousands were out of work, gangs of hobos tramped aimlessly about the country, eating at soup kitchens. In desperation a protest march was organized by a man named Jacob S. Coxey, and the mob headed for
Washington, where they sang: “We’re coming, Grover Cleveland, 500,000 strong. We’re marching into Washington to right the nation’s wrong.”

Mark Winslow leveled his eyes at Barone. “The Union’s had worse times. We’ll survive President Cleveland just as we’ve survived other presidents.”

The two men continued to exchange views, with a few comments from the rest of the party—except Barney, who had remained silent the entire evening. The presence of his family disturbed him intensely and he wished he could leave. With relief he accepted Sally’s urgent plea to dance.

Sally’s attractiveness had long given way to the coarsened life she lived. She was overdressed and her poor speech marked her position clearly. “Say, sweetie,” she cooed, “why ain’t you never told me you come from a ritzy family? That ring your ma’s wearing—ain’t it something? Hey, maybe we can go visit ’em—bet they got a fancy place, ain’t they, Bat?”

Barney ignored her banal chatter. When he first met her, he had been flattered, but soon tired of her mindless talk and incessant desire for gifts. His mind drifted to his family.
Why did they come to see me fight? They hate my way of life.
As he moved around the floor with Sally’s voice humming in his ear, he thought about the heated discussions he and his family had before he left home. It was like another world—both pleasant and terrible.

Dad looks good,
he thought, glancing at his father.
I wonder if he ever thinks about the time he took me fishing in Minnesota? That was the best time I ever had—just him and me. Andy got sick and couldn’t go, and the two of us camped in an old cabin for two weeks. We fished and hunted, and just talked and talked! He told me all about when he was young and how he fought in the war—I ain’t never forgot that!

The later years, he remembered, were filled with efforts to please his father. Once he’d studied night and day, trying to make all A’s, but in spite of that, he’d made mostly C’s.
Andy got all A’s. Mom tried to say nice things about my
grades—but Dad never said a word.
That brought back other memories of trying to fit into the family, but by the time he was twelve years old, he had understood that he’d never be smart enough to please them.

When he went to college, he was convinced he’d never make it. And with that attitude, it was easy to be lured into a group of drinking and disgruntled students. By the middle of his second semester, he’d been dismissed for his behavior. The thought of his father’s displeasure still raked across his nerves.
Should have gone on my own then,
he thought.
That job with the Union my dad got me was too much. Everybody expected me to be as smart as Mark Winslow—I was a fool to try it.
The last scene before leaving home flashed into his mind. Standing in front of his parents, pale with anger, he had shouted, “I’ve never been able to please you—and I never will! You want me to be perfect! Well, you’ve got Andy—let him be perfect. I’m getting away from here—and I won’t ever come back!”

That scene had become a nightmare. All across the country it had awakened him in a cold sweat. He’d gone down fast; and in drunken stupors and in jails, he’d hear himself shouting, “I won’t ever come back!” He’d turned to fighting to make big money, so when Benny Meyers had picked him off the street and trained him, it had been like shutting a final door to his past. Prizefighting had brought adulations from both Benny and the crowd that followed him. For the first time he felt accepted, worth something—and it had been pleasant. Even some of the upper crust were drawn to the violence of the ring. Barney himself disliked fighting. It gave him no pleasure to smash another man into a bleeding hulk, and the cries from the crowd made him uneasy, for he knew how fickle they were—cheering just as loudly if he were the one being beaten!

When the music ended, he and Sally joined the rest, where he sat with downcast eyes. Stealing looks at his parents from time to time, he was confused by the contradictory memories
rising in his mind. His mother was as beautiful and calm as ever. He remembered when he’d cut his foot, and she had held him in her arms, keeping the gaping wound together with one strong hand while she stroked his head with the other. The sight of blood had terrified him, but he remembered as clearly as if it were yesterday how he had clung to her, and how her hands had soothed his fear. His father looked no different. An overwhelming desire to please his father stirred him again, a desire he had never been able to forget. But he shoved the old impulse down and glanced at Esther and Andy.

Esther, he saw, was uncomfortable, with carefully hidden disgust. She had looked at him all evening as if he were a stranger—and a frightening stranger at that! Barney turned quickly to look at his brother.

Andrew was smiling and talking animatedly to Katie Sullivan. The young woman seemed captivated by Andy’s good looks and quick wit.
Guess she’s like all the rest,
Barney thought without resentment. Long ago he’d lost hope of being the sort of person his brother was, but suddenly a bitterness hit him.
Why did they have to come down here? They hate it—so why don’t they stay in their nice, neat little world and leave me alone?

Andy was unaware of Barney’s stony looks toward him. As always, he was fascinated by any new experience, and the fight had stirred his imagination. “First prizefight I ever saw, Miss Sullivan,” he said excitedly. “But you’ve seen quite a few, I suppose?”

“Oh no!” Katie said quickly. “It was my first one, too.”

“Oh?” Andy responded with surprise. He knew the beautiful young woman was a dance-hall girl, though he had no more experience with that type than with boxers. He studied her carefully, taking in the creamy, velvety skin, the glowing eyes and the air of seeming innocence. The other girl, Sally Danton, was the opposite—highly made-up complexion, revealing clothing, and cheap, bold looks. She fit the part.

“Miss Sullivan,” he said, “you’re a singer in Mr. Barone’s . . . ah, place?”

Katie noticed his hesitation, and a flush touched her throat. He had been about to say “saloon,” she sensed, then had settled for a kinder term. Katie was still sensitive, and merely nodded. But Barone had heard Winslow’s remark and leaned forward to say, “You bet she is, Mr. Winslow! But she won’t stay long—too good for the place.” Barone gave Katie a familiar pat on the shoulder, smiling at her possessively. “She’s got talent, and I’m going to see that she goes right to the top.” He smiled, his hand tightening on her shoulder. “I’m taking care of this young lady,” he said smoothly. “With my help she’ll be the toast of New York!”

Despite Barone’s flashy good looks and intense masculinity, Lola knew he was a predator. She had learned to recognize the type when she was a girl. Her eyes caught those of her husband, and signaled her desire to leave.

Mark took the cue and said, “Well, it’s been good to meet all of you, but we must be going.”

Andy looked up with surprise, for he was having a good time, but Esther and her mother nodded assent.

Lola waited for Barney to come to her, but when he didn’t, she walked over and put her hand on his arm. “Barney, we’ve missed you so much.” When he made no response, she added, “Your father is being transferred to California. He doesn’t know for how long. Why don’t you come with us?”

Barney’s eyes met hers; then he shook his head. “Don’t see how I could do that.”

Lola wanted to say more, to coax him, but it was too public. Mark rescued her by saying, “How about next Friday, Barney? Come out for supper.”

“Got a fight in Troy,” Barney muttered. He offered no more, and an embarrassed silence filtered over the group.

“Well, brother,” Andy said quickly, “I’ll come down and cheer you on.” He was quick-witted and skilled in dealing with awkward situations. He moved to Barney and grabbed
his hand. “We haven’t seen enough of each other,” Andy said, noting Benny’s surprise. “But I’ll take care of that. You can’t hide from me, Barney!” Then he turned and followed the rest of the family out of the restaurant.

“That’s a nice family you got, Bat,” Meyers said. He rolled his ever-present cigar around between his lips, adding sagely, “Nothin’ like a good family, I’m tellin’ you!”

Sally was studying the fighter with a new respect. “Didn’t know you came from a family of swells, Bat,” she grinned. “I’ll have to treat you better!”

Barney shrugged. “We don’t get on too well,” he said, forcing a grin. “Well, Sally, it’s early. Let’s you and me have a party.”

“Sure, Bat!” she said.

Katie watched them leave, then turned to Barone. “I thought they were nice. Especially his mother.”

“Yeah, sure,” Barone grinned. “But it was the brother you should have been watching. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, Katie.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that!”

“That’s the ticket!” Barone laughed. “I’m the man for you!” He put his hand on her arm possessively and guided her out.

As Benny watched them go, he said softly, “Katie, my girl, if you wuz my daughter, I’d get you away from Tony Barone.” He knew instinctively that Barone would not rest until the innocence of Katie Sullivan had been sacrificed to his desires. It was an old story Meyers had often seen, and it made his heart heavy.

****

All the way back to the hotel Mark sat silently in the cab, paying little heed either to the sights of the city or the argument between Andy and Esther. Lola took his hand and pressed it. She herself was subdued. The evening had not gone the way she had hoped. She had wanted to be alone
with Mark, sharing the grief they felt concerning Barney—a grief neither Andy nor Esther were aware of.

In the backseat Andy and Esther continued to argue.

“It’s no use, Andy. Barney will do just what he wants. He doesn’t care about any of us,” she said.

“You’re wrong. He’s a funny fellow, Barney is. Not too much ‘upstairs,’ of course, but all the more reason why we’ve got to take him in hand. Give him a lift, you know?”

“Barney’s not dumb!” Lola broke in sharply.

“Why—I just meant he’s slow, Mother.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Mark said. “Some of the best men in our company were slow, as you call it, Andy. But they kept at the job—sometimes after the quicker fellows gave up.”