1901

This was followed by a wild ride down to Washington on a commandeered private train where he, a young man who’d never been farther than twenty miles from home, was present in the White House and saw the great leaders of America. These included the high-ranking generals who made even General Mahan stand up straighter than normal. Heinz even saw the president, who seemed to acknowledge him and smile but did not speak to him.

This was followed by an even wilder train and horseback trip back up to New York, because a woman friend of the general’s was in some kind of trouble, injured or something. Burned in a fire was what he’d heard.

Finally, the trip ended at a small house outside Waterbury, Connecticut, which he later found out was rented by the woman they’d ridden to see. Patrick pounded on the door, which was promptly opened by a young woman in a drab dress who looked puzzled for only a moment.

“Well, thank God. What the bloody hell took you so long?”

Heinz was shocked. Patrick pushed the woman aside and entered, with Heinz following. “Damnit, Molly, in your message you forgot to say which camp you were at and where Katrina’d been taken. Do you know how many camps there are around here?”

The answer, Heinz knew from recent and frustrating experience looking for them, was a lot.

Molly softened and managed a small smile, which, Heinz realized, made her rather attractive. She had a good figure, full but still trim, and she had a nice smile and the hint of dimples. She was also very young, perhaps even younger than he. He straightened his brand-new uniform tunic and smiled.

Molly cheerfully acknowledged her oversight. “Well, perhaps I could have been a bit more specific, but you’re here now so it doesn’t matter.”

“Right. Now where is Katrina and how is she?” Patrick demanded.

Molly answered in an accented voice that Heinz realized was Irish. “She’s in her room and she’s resting. Do you want me to tell her you’re here?”

“In a minute. First, what happened, and has her family been told?”

Molly sat and gestured the others to do likewise. “She was burned in a fire that started in a storage tent. She was in there with some others trying to figure out how many blankets or some such there were when the tent sort of exploded. There must have been some chemicals or something, and a lamp made them blow up. She was dragged out hurt. Her face and hands were all swollen and red, and her hair was burned off. She was unconscious and cut bad on her head and they had to shave off what hair remained and stitch her scalp.”

“Jesus,” said Patrick.

“Even so, she was luckier than the others. She turned out to be more scalded than burned. A couple of other people were killed in the fire.” Molly looked a little contrite. “I may have panicked, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“And her family?”

“When she was unconscious I realized I didn’t know anything about her family. When she came to I found out that her father was in Texas and we don’t know where, and her brother’s at sea in the navy. Didn’t matter. Neither was going to be here for her.”

Patrick nodded. Her father could likely be located, but certainly not her brother.

“Now, General,” she glanced at Heinz, “who is this young giant?”

Patrick quickly made the introductions. He watched incredulously as her face turned from a look of gamine charm to one of venom. “A German? You brought us a fuckin’ German?”

He reached over and grabbed her hand. “No, Molly. Heinz is not from Germany. He’s from Ohio, which is in this country. He joined the army to fight them.”

Her look of hatred passed, at least a little. Molly was uncertain. Heinz seized the opportunity. “Miss Duggan, I am not a German, I am an American. I was born here, in Ohio, which makes me a citizen of the United States. My parents and many other relatives came from Germany, but now they’re Americans too. They left because of the German government and its crazy kaisers and its damned army that likes to kill and crush innocent people.”

Molly digested this. It had also been a while since a young man called her “miss.” “All right,” she said quite formally. “We’ll see. General, I’ll ask Miss Schuyler if she will see you now.”

Patrick thanked her. As she disappeared down the short hallway, he made a mental note to give Heinz some idea of Molly’s tragic time during the Brooklyn fire and how it had affected her attitude. Perhaps he couldn’t change her, but it would help to understand things.

A moment later, Molly beckoned and Patrick entered the small, darkened room and took a chair by the bed. The creature under the covers was a mummy, swathed in soft white bandages so that only her blue eyes were visible. The hands were wrapped in white mittens, and her head was also covered with loose white bandages.

“Frightened, Patrick?” Her voice was soft but firm.

“No.”

“Well,” she said, carefully adjusting herself so that she could sit up better, “I certainly was.”

“How painful is it?”