Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (8 page)

“Tragic,” Chase murmured.

“That’s not the half of it.” Mrs. Frederick leaned closer. “Miss Bissette ran across the pier, trying to rescue it.”

Sarah gasped. “No—”

Dumbfounded, Chase looked at the adults around the table. They wouldn’t talk about the latest in technology, but they would discuss with great interest a woman chasing her hat. Everyone except the boys seemed to be interested in this poor woman’s plight. It boggled the mind.

Sarah pushed herself back in her seat, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

“And not only that”—Mrs. Frederick dropped her voice to a whisper—“she slipped and fell.”

Mrs. Frederick paused as if to let the devastation of this information sink in. “One of the soldiers had to rescue her.”

“Was she all right?” Chase asked as he lifted a bite of salad.

“Oh, most definitely. Her mother is a dear friend of mine, and I saw her and her daughter just this afternoon. No worse for the wear.”

Chase glanced around the table, feeling a bit sorry for the woman Mrs. Frederick claimed as a friend.

“Of course—” Mrs. Frederick continued.

Gracie leaned forward. “What is it, Mama?”

Mrs. Frederick stared at Chase so intently that he actually squirmed like a schoolboy in his chair. “I hear Miss Bissette has her sights set on marrying you, to help her family’s state.”

Chase choked on his food.

“Good heavens,” Sarah gasped. “How—how primitive.”

Gracie folded her hands. “You can’t fault Miss Bissette for wanting to marry a quality man.”

“Quality has nothing to do with it,” Edward muttered from across the table.

Gracie smiled. “Well, you can’t blame her for wanting to marry an established man.”

“Or a wealthy one,” Edward added, bitterness weighing his tone.

Chase shifted his chair. He’d wanted to talk about something interesting, but his marrying anyone, for any reason, was not something he wanted to discuss over dinner with his family, let alone with strangers.

“Perhaps Matthew and I can talk about flying machines over dessert,” he said.

The boy grinned.

“There is a concert tonight at the Grand,” Mrs. Frederick said, glancing at her daughter and then back at Chase. “Will you be attending?”

His foot tapped the satchel on the floor as he looked at Sarah. If he had to spend the evening listening to comments about the weather or eligible women to marry, he might catch the first boat out in the morning. Then his parents would be upset with him as well.

“Oh, I would love to attend.” He smiled again. “But I was planning to join Edward this evening.”

Edward’s head jerked up. “You were?”

“I couldn’t possibly miss the first annual dog race.”

“Dog race?” Mrs. Frederick sounded a bit disturbed.

“The manager at the Grand is hosting it,” Edward explained.

“Well, I suppose, if it is at the hotel…” Her voice trailed off. “But you will be attending the dance tomorrow night.”

Sarah leaned forward. “He wouldn’t miss it.”

He glanced at the smile frozen on his sister’s face. “Of course not.”

The servant replaced his salad plate with a stuffed Cornish hen.

“Very good,” their hostess said before she picked up her fork.

Chase began eating his main course as if his life depended on it. The sooner he left for the dog race, the happier he would be.

Chase had never attended a dog race before, but he was quite certain this one wasn’t going as planned. A crowd of men had gathered on the wide lawn behind the hotel for the publicized race, but it had turned into a dog
chase
instead of a race, and a bumbling one at that.

The hotel employees had lined up a dozen dogs to race, goading them to the starting line with fresh meat. But instead of sprinting toward the finish line, three of the dogs were scratching themselves near the start. Others had taken off toward the woods with their cuts of meat. Frantic hotel workers ran after them, trying to retrieve the dogs before they fled back to their homes in the village. Only five of the dogs remained on the middle lawn, and not a one of them seemed interested in a race. If Edward hadn’t wagered on the outcome, Chase was certain even his brother-in-law would be laughing at the fiasco.

A cloud of cigar smoke hovered over Chase, twilight settling over the lake in front of him. Torches were lit in preparation for nightfall, but he doubted that the assembly of men would be here much longer even if they preferred the amusement afforded by the dogs over a concert.

One of the dogs, a white mutt with black spots, sat down beside Chase and looked up at him as if Chase could rescue him from the absurdity of humankind. He petted the dog’s head until a hotel employee arrived with a length of rope in his hands.

The employee tied a lasso of sorts around the dog’s neck and tried to pull him away, but Chase stopped him. “This dog is done racing.”

The employee shook his head, tugging on the dog again. “They’re gonna race them to shore.”

Chase reached down and released the animal from the rope. “Not this one.”

The employee studied the plain trousers that Chase had changed back into and the shirt that Sarah wanted him to burn. Then he looked at the dog, as if he were uncertain whether to argue with one hotel guest for the sake of entertaining the others.

“Mr. Darrington?”

Chase looked up at the hotel manager, a dapper man with a waxed mustache that curled up at the ends. When he and the Powells arrived at the hotel, the manager had assured them that he was available if they needed anything. Perhaps now was the time to collect on his offer.

The manager looked down at the animal. “Did you find a new friend?”

Chase petted the dog again. “I believe I did.”

The manager glanced back up at his employee. “Did you have a question for Mr. Darrington?”

The employee backed away. “No, sir. I was just collecting the dogs.”

The man pointed at the dog beside Chase. “I believe this one is just fine where he is.”

“Yes, sir.”

The manager surveyed the chaos around him and then turned back to Chase. “This race isn’t exactly going as we expected.”

“If you wanted to entertain the gentlemen, you’re doing a fine job.”

The manager laughed. “I suppose we are.”

The man hurried toward the water, trying to organize his employees as they coaxed the other dogs into a boat and paddled them out onto the lake. Someone shot a pistol into the air, and the employees dumped the dogs over the side of the boat. The creatures swam frantically toward shore until a brown mutt emerged on the grassy hill, the winner of the race. Several of the men cheered.

Instead of celebrating his win, the lead dog sprinted right, toward the village, and the other dogs followed. This time no one bothered stopping them. The dog beside Chase nudged his hand one last time and then joined his comrades in their new race away from the crazy men.

This, Chase speculated, would be the first and last dog race at the Grand.

As the men around him cheered, Chase glanced back at the flickering lights of the carriages as they moved up and down the hill.

“I’m going to take my leave,” he told Edward. “Perhaps I’ll follow those dogs into town.”

His brother-in-law nodded but didn’t reply, his focus obviously on the results of the wagering. Chase marveled how even the most inane races could capture a gambler.

Chase didn’t look back at the shore. As darkness settled around him, he strolled up the hill, past the line of carriages that stretched the length of the hotel porch. On the other side of the building was a carriage barn available for use by the guests. Inside were a dozen drivers and liverymen.

One of the men eyed Chase’s clothes and the worn satchel in his hands.

“I’m a guest of the hotel,” he tried to explain.

His eyes narrowed slightly, questioning Chase in his silence.

He sighed. “The name is Chester Darrington.”

The man stood straighter. “Would you like an open or enclosed carriage, sir?”

“An open one, please.”

“Of course,” he said before rushing forward to open the door on one of the carriages. A lantern hung on each side of the driver’s seat.

He motioned to one of the men waiting on the side. The man’s dark skin was wrinkled with age, his graying beard drooping to his collar, but his eyes sparkled in the lantern light. “Henry’s one of our best drivers.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Chase said as he pushed his satchel across the plush seat and climbed inside.

Henry fed each of his horses a carrot before he climbed up onto the driver’s seat, taking the reins for two Standardbreds in his hands. “Where would you like to go?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

“Well, now.” Henry put his arm over the seat and looked back at him. “Most people around here know exactly where they’re going, and they’re in quite a hurry to get there.”

“I want to go someplace high,” Chase explained. “And as far away as possible from the village lights.”

“I suppose that would be up to the site of the old fort, in the center of the island.” Henry clicked his tongue and the horses moved forward, out of the barn. “The fort burned down a long time ago.”

“That sounds like the perfect location.”

“Step!” Henry commanded as he directed the horses left, lumbering farther up the hill. Then he glanced over his shoulder again. “I don’t think I’ve ever driven up to Fort Holmes at night.”

“It’s a grand adventure for both of us, then.”

“Indeed.”

The minutes passed slowly as Chase’s heart beat faster. When his assistant had given him the satchel, he’d told Chase about the incredible power of this invention, but Chase needed someplace dark to test it. Someplace remote. Tonight he would finally see if it was as grand as Richard proclaimed.

Chase leaned back on the seat. “I thought Fort Mackinac was the only fort on the island.”

“It’s the only active fort now.” Henry paused. “Fort Holmes was active for just a few years. Run by the British.”

“The British?”

Henry glanced back at him. “You haven’t heard the story of the British taking over our little island?”

Chase shook his head.

They turned right at the top of the hill, the hotel lights fading away behind the trees as Henry began to tell the story. “Heads of fur traders used to come here to trade, back in the last century. Whoever controlled our island was master of the Great Lakes…at least the upper portion. Both sides wanted Mackinac when we fought with the British again in 1812.”

Chase couldn’t see much around them, with the light from the carriage lantern fading into the darkness, but he could smell the scent of lilac bushes mixed with the odor of the horses harnessed in front of them. “We must have won the island.”

“Eventually, but it took awhile. When President Madison first declared the second war on the Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, no one bothered to tell the commanding officer at Fort Mackinac that we were at war again. Unfortunately for us, the British telegraphed their men over on St. Joseph Island, and they rustled together an army of natives and voyagers to fight with them. The new army rowed right over to Mackinac, and the soldiers here were in so much shock that the British took control of the fort without so much as a gunshot.”

“No one was hurt?” Chase asked.

“Not that time around. The Americans surrendered, and the British built a blockhouse and stockade at a higher point on the island to protect the larger fort and called it Fort George. Legend has it that it burned down twice on their watch.” Henry sniffed. “Seems to me, someone was trying to tell them something.”

Chase leaned forward. “How long did the British occupy the island?”

“For three years. An American army invaded the island in 1814 in an attempt to take it back, but they were sorely defeated. When the Americans finally got the island back, they renamed the fort for Major Holmes since he was killed in that battle. There isn’t much left up there anymore.”

Perfect. All Chase needed was solitude, darkness, and a cloudless sky.

Henry stopped the carriage by a hillside. “You’ll have to climb from here.”

Chase grabbed the satchel and hopped out of the carriage. “How far up?”

“A couple hundred feet, if you stay on the path.” The driver handed him one of the lanterns. “Don’t rush for my sake. I’ll enjoy the night and maybe even take a little nap while you’re gone.”

Chase took the lantern and clutched the satchel in his other hand. The hike was a strenuous but quiet climb through the forest, far from the chaos of the dog races and hotel music. Chase breathed a bit harder with every step up the steep hill, but he didn’t stop. He’d come to the island to test out this new invention, and he wouldn’t return to the hotel until he had tried it.

Trees circled the site of the old fort, and he climbed a small hill where the blockade probably stood at one time. A few piles of limestone were all that was left of the buildings. In the distance he could see the glow of the village, but it would have to do.

The wind whisked over the trees and rustled his jacket. He wished he could be even higher, far above the trees and away from the lights, but this would suffice for tonight.