Authors: Georgina Young- Ellis
About twenty minutes at a brisk walk took him into the Five Points. He kept his hat low and didn’t make eye contact as he shuffled through the crowded, filthy streets, looking for a pub. It wasn’t long before the shouts of drunken men and the smell of sour ale led him to a run-down tavern on a side street. He shouldered his way through the throng of loiterers outside and into the smoky, dark room.
Drunken men lay about on stools and on the floor, others played cards on a make-shift table covered in grease and grime. A few toothless hags hung around, trying to attract the attention of anyone that cared to look. Nick felt he would gag at the stench of unwashed bodies, rotten food, stale alcohol, and urine. He clutched at the gun in his jacket and moved his way to the bar, receiving unwelcome stares as he did. He pulled five dollars out of his pocket and set in on the bar with one word.
“Vanderhoff.”
The bartender, a fat, sweaty man with a crusty eye patch, considered as he picked up the money. He uttered a name and turned away. Nick knew just where the place was. He fled the tavern, and on the street, turned north and hurried out and away from the Five Points.
He hailed a hack coach, which took him to the Valencia Hotel on St. Mark’s Place, a location he remembered from studying the streets in the virtual tours he had taken with Cassandra. He got out, paid the driver, and walked into the establishment, a place, if not as nice as the Dylan Hotel, at least mildly respectable. He went to the desk clerk and laid a twenty before the man.
“Vanderhoff’s room number.”
The clerk looked from Nick’s face to the money uneasily. It was a huge sum.
“We do not want any trouble in here, sir,” said the clerk.
“I promise you there will be no trouble.” Nick moved his jacket lapel aside and showed the man his gun. “Just tell me the room number.”
“Number three-o-six.”
“Thanks.” Nick climbed the wooden staircase to the third floor. The hotel was shabby, the hallway narrow, lit by gas lamps. Nick found the door number and knocked, his reflexes poised to grab his gun.
“Who is it?” A gruff voice came from within.
“I have information about Thaddeus Evans.”
Nick heard the sound of footsteps and the door opened a crack.
“Who are you?” said a man who glared from behind the door.
“My name is Stockard, and I know where you can find Evans.”
The door opened wider and Nick could see that the man had red hair, long and shaggy, his beard full and rust colored. His pale blue eyes were watery, and one arm was bandaged. Behind him, three men sat at a table, playing poker. One was short and stout and also sported a bandage. All the men were in their undershirts and trousers, sweating in the warm room. The red-haired man admitted Nick, and one of the men at the table, an older man with gray hair, and a powerfully-muscled body, stood.
“Are you Vanderhoff?” Nick asked.
“I am Nathan Vanderhoff. Evans killed my son. This here’s his brother, Jack.” He indicated another very large man still seated. “Evans winged Bob and Cole here, and killed two more of my best men along with my son Tom. What do you know of him?”
“I know he is in Albany living with his brother, and I will know more, most likely in another day or two.”
“Why are you telling us this?” asked Nathan.
“Because I want information too. He is with a woman I am looking for.”
“Oh, that good-lookin’ woman he was with when we saw him at the opera, Pa,” said Jack.
Nick jerked his head to look at the man. “You saw them at the opera together?”
“Yeah. They was real friendly with each other, too,” Jack said with a nasty grin.
“And when we tried to catch ’em a couple a weeks later, they was comin’ out of a party together, dressed real nice, and ran off down the street together.” Bob added: “I reckon they spent the night holed up somewhere real cozy.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. He knew it. Cassandra was sleeping with this Evans. Now, there was only one thing he could think to do and that was to obliterate the man—erase him from history.
“Yeah, and she was with him when they killed Tom,” the short man said. “They got away from us and onto the ferry. We know they was staying in a house over there in Queens County; those damn do-gooders kept ’em safe somewhere, but we couldn’t get them to give ’em up.”
“I wanted to kill ’em, but Bob said we couldn’t ’cause we wouldn’t get away with it,” Jack said. “If we had, we prob’ly coulda caught Evans and his band o’ runaways. That woulda been some good money.”
“Yeah, and you woulda hung,” Nathan said angrily. “You buncha idiots have cost me good. The bounty on those runaways was huge.” To Nick he said: “Do you think if we find Evans, we will find them too?”
Nick felt a pang of guilt. “Yeah,” he replied, when his jealousy caught up to him. “Or at least you can wring their whereabouts out of him before you kill him.”
“Well, we’re gonna have some expenses going all the way to Albany,” said Nathan, looking Nick up and down. “You wanna contribute to the fund? You look like you got money.”
“Sure,” said Nick. “This is all I got on me.” He threw a wad of twenties on the table and Nathan grabbed it up greedily.
“I am going to see Reverend Williams again tomorrow and I will try to find out more about the brother. I will let you know if I do. If my woman does not return by then, I will go to Albany myself to get her back. Your tracking skills will come in handy for me.”
“Well, we’ll be here,” Nathan said, plopping back down in a chair. “You play?”
“No,” Nick answered, eyeing the table distastefully. “If you do not see me back here tomorrow night, it will be because she came back to New York. But consider yourself paid for Evans’ death.”
“It’ll be more than our pleasure.” Nathan growled. “Woulda done it no matter what. You just made it a little easier.”
“Glad to be of service,” said Nick, going to the door.
*****
Two carriages stood waiting in the front drive of Cecil Evans’ home. Inside the house, all of the travelers were packed and ready to go, those moving on to Canada with their many pieces of luggage, and Cassandra and Evie going back to New York with nothing more than the clothes they had arrived in and their small handbags. Thaddeus hung back, his hands in his pockets, waiting to say goodbye. It was early morning; neither Cecil nor his wife had risen to bid farewell to their guests.
Cassandra took a breath, and embraced Miss Johnston, then Miss Ketchum and Samuel in turn. She then turned to Thaddeus. She could not say what she wanted to say with the others looking on, but, they had already spoken their farewells in each other’s arms before they had risen from his bed that morning. They had made love for hours the night before. She had reluctantly told him her address in Boston, knowing that he’d never find her there. Now, she simply put out her hand to him and he kissed it, his face pale. She then went to hug Caleb and turned to Evie, wondering why she was not saying her goodbyes now, but Evie was looking at her with tears in her sea-green eyes, biting her lower lip.
“What is it, Evie?” Cassandra whispered.
“I am going with him,” she said, trembling.
Cassandra stared at her. Caleb stood firm by her side, and everyone turned to them. Cassandra looked to the other travelers for help, but no one spoke.
She moved close to Evie and lowered her voice to a hiss. “No, you are not.”
“Yes,” said Evie defiantly. “I love him, and I am going with him.”
Cassandra’s voice rose. “You are not going. You are not. You are coming with me and that is final. Dear God, Evie, what are you thinking? This is not possible! You are not going!!”
The others shifted uncomfortably on their feet.
Caleb spoke. “Mrs. Reilly, I need her to come with me. I cannot live without her. She must come with me.”
Cassandra grasped Caleb’s wrist. “No, Caleb, do not do this to her. You do not understand, and I cannot explain. Her life will be ruined. She cannot go with you. Please believe me when I tell you that it is not possible for her to go. She is not thinking, please, talk to her; do not let her do this! Do not be selfish Caleb; do not take her into that life. She has such an amazing future before her.”
Caleb’s expression changed. He looked at Evie as if he was considering for the first time the possibility that he’d be harming his love in any way to bring her along, or the danger of the journey and the hardships ahead. He glanced over her soft hands, her lovely clothes, her delicate skin.
“Then I will stay with her,” he said. “I will take the chance. I shall go back to New York with you, Evie, and then we will go to Boston together. I will be safer there.”
“No!” cried Evie.
Thaddeus stepped forward. “Caleb, no. Do not do this. You could be caught if you step foot back in New York. You must go with the others on to Canada. You are not thinking!”
“I do not care!” the young man cried. “I would rather die than live without Evelyn!”
“Caleb,” Evie said, “do not say that. I cannot have you risk your life by going back to New York. Or to Boston. I will not allow it.”
“Then come with me. I will protect you. I will work night and day to make you comfortable, to give you the life you are used to. I promise you.”
“We have to go,” Miss Johnston said firmly. Cassandra wondered if she feared losing her own resolve to go on to Canada. “Caleb, come with us. Miss Bay will do what she has to do, but you must come along.”
Evie looked imploringly at Cassandra.
“Come with me, Evie,” said Cassandra. “Say goodbye and come with me. We will miss our train.”
Evie turned back to Caleb. “No. I will be too great a burden if I go with you. Mrs. Reilly is right. I am used to…certain comforts…a certain life. I will be a hindrance to you as you strive to make your way. This cannot be, Caleb.”
He reached out his hand to her and she took it. He pulled her in close, and she sank into his arms, sobbing.
“Come find me, Evelyn,” he whispered. “I will wait for you in St. Catherines. I will wait for you there as long as I have to.”
“Perhaps, perhaps I can find a way to do it, Caleb, so that we can live together without struggle or hardship.”
“Evie,” said Cassandra, “do not promise him that.” She took Evie’s hand and drew her away from Caleb.
“It will give him reason to hope, Cassandra,” said Thaddeus.
Cassandra looked into his eyes and sadly smiled.
“Just…just give me one more minute, Cassandra,” Evie said.
She went to Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum and kissed them. She hugged and kissed Samuel on the cheek, and bestowed Thaddeus with an affectionate embrace.
“Hurry, now,” urged Miss Johnston. “We must be on our way.”
Thaddeus walked Cassandra to the carriage and helped her in with a fervent kiss on her hand. “I wish I had reason to believe you would come and find me too.”
“It will not be in my power. At least promise me that you will never forget me, Thaddeus.”
“Never.”
Caleb came out of the house with two large suitcases. Evie followed him, and they walked around to the other side of the carriage. Cassandra felt a jostling and heard a loud thud on the top of the vehicle and was aware that the coachman was tying something to the roof. Evie climbed in silently, tears streaming down her face. Cassandra saw Caleb get into the other carriage with Samuel, Miss Johnston, and Miss Ketchum.
“Good-bye, Cassandra,” said Thaddeus.
“Good-bye,” she said, her own tears flowing.
He closed the carriage door, and they drove away. They arrived at the train station, descended from the carriage, and Cassandra began to walk briskly to the ticket booth.
“Wait!” cried Evie.
Cassandra turned and saw the coachman untying a suitcase from the roof. He swung it down and hauled it after them.
“What is that?” Cassandra asked Evie.
“My things,” Evie said with a red face.
“You had your clothes and things with you all along? All this time you had planned to go?”
“Yes. They were among the bags that Carter brought back with him to Astoria. I pretended that I didn’t have anything here in Albany because I did not want you to know.”
Cassandra stared at her, speechless, then turned abruptly and stalked into the station. She bought their tickets while Evie oversaw the handling of the suitcase. They boarded the train and rode the eight hours barely speaking, except to order food in the dining car. Cassandra slept most of the way as the train rumbled alongside the Hudson River, through Yonkers and the Bronx.
The Bronx depot was the last stop. Evie paid a porter to carry her suitcase across the street to a dock, where the women got on a ferry and floated down the Harlem and East River to a port at Forty-second street. There, they hired a coach and rode downtown in silence, through streets that were clearing out for the evening. Cassandra was exhausted. She just wanted to get back to the house on Fifteenth Street, get the rest of their things, and get to the portal.
As they neared Twenty-third Street, they saw a column of smoke in the distance, rising through the red sunset. They could hear a far-off clanging of fire wagon bells. Cassandra suddenly remembered reading, in her preparation for the trip, that All Angels Church had suffered more than one fire in its history. The driver was headed to Miss Johnston’s home, but Cassandra had a sinking feeling and asked him to make a detour to the church.