Hawaiian Crosswinds Page 21

  When Rafe agreed to a partnership with Parker Judson, he first went out of his way to negotiate with Judson to allow the historical church to remain untouched on its own plot of ground, along with Ambrose’s bungalow.

  Rafe had built Ambrose and Noelani a bigger and better house close to his own plantation house on Hawaiiana, but Ambrose always returned to the little bungalow beside the church. Not that Rafe blamed him. It was easier to work on his sermons and other activities close to the church.

  Also, Ambrose wasn’t much for fancy houses. “I want to live on a par with my congregation. You know as well as I, Rafe, that most of them are Hawaiians. The wealthy planters and their families usually go to Kawaiahao church,” he said of what was considered the church of the royals near Iolani Palace.

  Rafe made his way past the pearl lagoon. As he’d mentioned to Eden at Kalihi, the financial matters of the Easton estate were now in the care of the family lawyer. The pearl bed was again Celestine’s and she was in the process of granting Rafe legal jurisdiction. For Townsend, this loss, along with losing Hanalei, was the root of his present wrath. In his arrogance he had convinced himself he had the right of control to bleed the Easton assets dry. Rafe couldn’t prove it, but he believed it was only after losing control of the Easton estate that Townsend had made the decision to harm Nora Derrington, his aunt. Silas had come to Rafe recently and mentioned he’d overheard a bitter argument between Townsend and Celestine near the time when Eden had brought Great-aunt Nora her medication from Dr. Bolton. Townsend had disputed Celestine’s right to turn all of Matt’s legacy over to her son and there’d been the sound of Celestine being struck.

  “I didn’t tell you at the time. I was afraid you’d tangle with Townsend,” Silas said. “Not that the cad didn’t deserve to be roughed up. Miss Celestine’s a mighty gracious lady and she deserves so much better than Townsend. After the move against Nora and now with him in San Francisco, I thought it would be wise to tell you.”

  Rafe’s jaw flexed. Thinking of Townsend striking his mother and allowing Matt to die sent his blood pounding.

  The mission church was ahead among the swaying palms near Ambrose’s hut, where a familiar light glowed an evening welcome in the window.

  Rafe frowned as he continued his walk. He crossed the yard and took the steps to the front door. It was after eleven o’clock when he quietly tapped on the door. He often arrived at this late hour, coming straight from Hanalei. He leaned his shoulder into the door a moment, troubled, considering his decision to find Townsend. He looked back down the steps toward the small mission church and felt a pull on his heart as the Hawaiian wind brushed his face and the moonlight illuminated the cross.

  Ambrose was expecting him, and opened the door, his suntanned fatherly face and keen ebony eyes appearing doubly dark below silver hair and rather long bristling brows. Those brows looked as though they were windblown. Rafe smiled. “Evening Ambrose.”

  “Ah, come in, lad.”

  Despite the humid weather, Rafe had rarely seen him in public without his knee-length frock coat over a starched white cotton shirt. An old gold watch chain persistently hung from his pocket. From childhood Rafe and Keno both had often been amused because the watch never keep accurate time. Ambrose was always ten minutes late behind the pulpit and kept the Hawaiians ten minutes past the service hour. The matter had become a tradition. There was always what Rafe called a freshly bathed, minister-like quality to his uncle that brought out the best in Rafe’s behavior. Ambrose had had him memorize much of Psalm 119 when Rafe was twelve years old, quizzing him on occasion on certain verses—“Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?”

  “By taking heed thereto according to thy word,” Rafe had answered.

  Ambrose had smiled, satisfied, and patted Rafe on the shoulder. “You’d better,” he had warned.

  Ambrose now stood in the doorway and beckoned him inside. Rafe entered, noting the open Bible on the arm of the big chair beside the glowing lantern. Ambrose usually “soaked up” the Scriptures, as he put it, before he went to bed, memorizing verse after verse. As boys, he and Keno had once tried to guess how long Ambrose could go without saying memorized verses.

  “I smell coffee.”

  “It’s on the stove. Eden stopped by after she left Kalihi today.”

  “I saw her this morning.”

  “So she said.” Ambrose followed him to the kitchen where Rafe was pouring himself a cup. He spied a plate of cold chicken and helped himself as Noelani expected, though she was now fast asleep upstairs.

  “Yes, Eden said you’d been exceedingly generous.”

  “Don’t weigh my motives. They’re self-beneficial.”

  Ambrose cracked a smile. “So I gathered. Well, Eden is very pleased.”

  “The medical journal that Dr. Jerome believes to be a treasury of sound medical research on leprosy doesn’t impress me. I don’t believe leprosy can be cured with exotic recipes of rare herbs from distant, exotic lands.”

  Ambrose sighed, looking troubled about Jerome. “No, Jerome’s launching his little boat into a strong headwind, I’m afraid. What worries me most is how he’s going to react when his dreams fall apart. I’ve word from Molokai that Rebecca is growing weaker by the day.”

  Rafe tensed. “Does Eden know this?”

  Ambrose shook his head and sank into the chair. “No one knows. Rebecca asked her kokua to say nothing to Eden. She’s hoping to live to meet her. After that—”

  Silence filled the bungalow. Rafe worried about Eden’s response.

  “Jerome is walking into a storm to say the least,” Ambrose said. He looked over at Rafe, who stood leaning against the kitchen counter holding his cup.

  “Even so, lad, I think you’re doing wisely when it comes to Jerome and Eden. Giving him an interest-free loan to build the clinic and buying us Nora’s new printing press deserves our gratitude. And what’s more, I think you’ll get it double from Jerome. He’s going to be enthralled. By the way, Eden informed me you’d have Keno deliver the press aboard the Minoa?”

  “I’ll arrange it before I leave.”

  “Good. There’s a poor young lad there who could use a little hope and adventure. Rebecca sent word about him. Starting a little paper will put some enthusiasm in his life. I’m hoping to help him see the love of the Lord through this.”

  “So Eden told me. Bibles and children’s Bible stories as well. Do you have everything you need?”

  Ambrose’s eyes sparkled with humor. “I’ll make sure to send you the charges.”

  “See that you do. I’ll be talking to Nora tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll have any difficulty getting the press from her, but the other reason why I need to see her isn’t likely to endear me to her kindly heart.”

  Ambrose sharpened his gaze. “Oh? Why so? I’d expect her to be pleased about getting her money back on that expensive press Zachary ordered. He said she was cranky with him about it for weeks.”

  “It’s not talk of the printing press that will upset her, but the prescription bottle she said she threw away after she was poisoned.”

  Rafe explained what he’d learned from Zachary, and what he hoped to accomplish in his meeting the next day with Nora at the Kea Lani family meeting over Townsend. When he’d concluded all that Zachary had revealed, Ambrose shook his head thoughtfully.

  “That news is very dangerous, Rafe. Just be grateful to God Townsend isn’t in Honolulu to find this out. I tell you, I’d be worried about her safety and yours.”

  Rafe was surprised by the gravity of his uncle’s response. “Where Townsend’s concerned I can take care of myself. There’s a part of me that would be pleased to have a dust-up with him.”

  “That, Rafe, is what worries me.”

  Rafe didn’t want to discuss it. “You’re right, though, about Nora. Maybe even Ling.” Rafe drew his brows together. “Maybe I can get her to understand her position. She’s holding evidence that could put Townsend behind a chain link fence for many years.”
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  “To say the least,” Ambrose stated, looking at him anxiously. “Who else knows of this bottle?”

  Rafe gave a shake of his head and bit into the chicken. “Just Zach, as far as I know. He either let it slip out to me deliberately, or he doesn’t see the total value of the information. That’s hard to believe, though. Zach isn’t dense. He has a normally suspicious nature.”

  “So you’re inclined to think he wanted to let you know.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking now.”

  “Why he didn’t tell you sooner is curious, though.”

  “Zach is like that sometimes. He and I get along well, as you know. Though, even now, at times, he backtracks. He’s been under duress lately over Townsend and Silas. He’s defensive about it.”

  “Well, you know him better than any of us. You always were protective of him, even when he didn’t realize it.”

  “At least he comes to me now, when he’s in trouble. That gives me a chance to try and step in before he makes matters worse for himself.”

  “And others.”

  “Yes.” Rafe frowned. “That prescription bottle—I’ve got to get hold of it tomorrow. I want to take it with me to San Francisco.”

  “Rafe, it might be wiser to let the authorities handle it, with Townsend, I mean.”

  Rafe knew what Ambrose feared would happen. That Rafe would lose control of himself and decide to reap vengeance on Townsend. Rafe wasn’t too sure, himself. After learning from Silas that Townsend had dared to strike his mother, Rafe could see what swelling tide of testing might be awaiting him. He hadn’t told Ambrose what Silas said, knowing it would convince him even more that he should stay far afield of Townsend. Rafe told himself he’d already settled the issue. His anger was under control.

  Townsend had always been an oppressor. If cornered there was no telling what he would do. Rafe gritted his frustration. It would be a long two or three weeks on the steamer to the mainland.

  I must get to Parker Judson’s on Nob Hill. I’m going to find Townsend.

  And when he did? Rafe would think about the outcome later. He finished the chicken.

  “If nothing else, Rafe, a discreet private detective could be hired to track Townsend down and gather evidence,” Ambrose said.

  Rafe looked at him. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Parker Judson sent a wire today. He’s suggesting a man he knows from Pinkerton Detective Agency. Naturally, Ainsworth will be opposed. He’s already asked me to wait until we have both arrived in San Francisco. He’d like to track Townsend down himself and have a ‘chat.’ It’s all I can do keep my tongue civil when he speaks in that fashion. He’s utterly frustrating at times.”

  Ambrose shook his head with sympathy. “Yes, Ainsworth took a wrong route years ago. He never found his way back to where his father Jedaiah had pointed out for him. Ainsworth became too busy building the Derrington enterprise to take much time considering whether or not he was building according to God’s specifications. People won’t believe it, lad, but money and privilege can be a curse. Far better the generation of young people who must strive and work and go without than those who’ve had indulgent parents who put too much on their plates. They’re actually destroying them. Instead of men, they’re making spoiled children. They’ll grow up soft and compromising. Pity the generation who is left to such leadership!”

  Ambrose had suggested a private detective agency months ago when it looked as if the Derringtons were going to step back yet again from the issue of Townsend, just as they had years ago over the death of Matt Easton.

  When Rafe had first talked to Ambrose soon after the trouble occurred at Koko Head over Nora’s illness, Ling’s hut going up in flames, and the slowness of the Honolulu authorities, Ambrose again suggested to Ainsworth and Nora they hire a detective.

  “Oh we will, we will,” Ainsworth had replied. “First, Ambrose, I need to find Townsend and discuss this with him. I want to know what it’s all about.” And Nora had sat mute and sober, refusing to meet Rafe’s gaze or even look at Ambrose. Little had Rafe known at that time that she had the prescription locked away.

  “If anyone could recommend a dependable detective agency,” Ambrose suggested calmly, “it would be Parker Judson. He’s right there in San Francisco.”

  He thought of Celestine, and Kip … and Townsend. The steamer wouldn’t leave for several days. He decided to send a telegraph wire to Parker Judson in the morning. Three weeks was too long to wait to hire a detective. Rafe would ask Parker to hire a man immediately.

  Rafe would take no chances when it came to Townsend and his bouts of rage. When his temper exploded he became an out-of-control instrument of evil.

  “I’m sending Parker a wire in the morning. Ainsworth won’t like what I’m doing, but this time he’ll need to face up to the truth.”

  The next morning Rafe left the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and caught a hackney for the telegraph office on Bethel and Merchant street, and told the driver to wait. He walked inside the small room.

  “I want to send a wire to San Francisco.”

  A minute later he wrote to Parker Judson:

  “Leaving Honolulu for SF this Sunday. Don’t wait for me to arrive to hire a Pinkerton detective. See if you can get one to track down T. D. now.”

  R. E.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Family Gathering

  The next day Rafe rode his new auburn stallion from the stables at Hawaiiana to Kea Lani to attend the meeting Ainsworth had called. He arrived an hour early hoping to locate Great-aunt Nora and insist on a private meeting. He knew Nora well from the two years he worked at the Gazette before he left the Islands on his voyage. She favored him then, and did all in her power to keep him running her newspaper. Rafe once entertained the idea of becoming a journalist and a writer. He even wrote the article on why Rebecca Stanhope Derrington had been sent secretly to Molokai, and dug up enough “scandalous” information, from Ainsworth’s viewpoint, to use it to force him to explain the truth to Eden about her mother. Rafe felt at the time that he had to do it for Eden. She was certain Rebecca had been murdered. When Ainsworth discovered this he said, “I had no idea she thought such a thing.”

  “Sir, you’ll need to explain the truth to her, or I will,” Rafe had said. And so the mystery of Rebecca had been solved. But the idea of becoming a journalist and starting his own newspaper had died when he returned to Hawaii with the pineapple slips. Now it was on Zachary that Nora had pinned her hopes to bringing her beloved Gazette out of near bankruptcy. Rafe had an idea about the Gazette too, but now was not the time to confront her with it.

  Except for Zachary, it appeared that the others had not arrived yet, which was what Rafe had hoped for. As he entered the front entrance hall he heard Zachary’s voice in the parlor. Rafe walked to the open oval doorway and paused there before entering. His gaze swept the sunny room with its open lanai, handsome wood furnishings polished to a sheen, and Zachary on the stage carrying out some emotional display to convince Great-aunt Nora of something.

  Rafe smiled to himself as he saw her. Nora sat in a white winged-back cane chair. He gazed at her: silver hair in a bun at her neck, tall, too thin, dignified, crabby, but secretly owning a heart full of love for her wayward family members. Like a frail and aged queen, Rafe thought. Her thin hands rested calmly on the chair arms, and as was typical she wore no rings, bracelets, or jewelry of any kind. “It gets in my way.” Her sharp gray eyes under white lashes followed her nephew to and fro. She wore a Victorian dress of dark blue and white lace down to her ankles, up to her throat, and tight at her thin wrists.

  Zachary was saying, “Now look here, Nora, how do you expect me to be the upcoming journalist of the Hawaiian Islands if you don’t give me the opportunity I need to dig up the truth and put it out there for all to read? Rafe’s going with Grandfather to San Francisco. It’s only wise I go along as well. I need to report on any annexation meetings Grandfather and old Hunnewell have with the American government.”
He stopped pacing and came up to her royal throne. He rested his hands on either side of the armed chair and bent down to look her in the eye.

  “You want the facts of what Thurston is up to? You want them laid out in the Gazette, don’t you, Auntie?”

  Auntie! He’s really buttering her up. Rafe folded his arms, watching.

  “Well of course I do. But who’ll run the Gazette while you’re away? I haven’t the strength to go downtown every day. Silas could do it, but he’s apparently lost all interest in journalism since Ainsworth put him in charge of the sugar.”

  The mention of Silas hardened Zachary’s face. “Silas was never a journalist. He’s nothing but a gambler.”

  “I won’t hear such bosh.” She slapped the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “You need to grow up, Zachary. It’s time you accept your brother and mend relationships. This is reality. We need one another. You need a brother.”

  Zachary threw up his hands helplessly. “To bash me on the head again?”

  “Oh, what rubbish. It must have been one of those rabble-rousing annexationists. You should have called Marshal Harper at once to raid Hunnewell’s beach house.”

  Rafe’s mouth tipped at the corner. He reached over and tapped on the parlor doorway.

  “Good afternoon, Nora.”

  “Come in, Rafe. I’ve just been telling Zachary I’d be pleased if he went with you and the other annexationists to keep an eye on your rabble-rousing. But who can I get to run the Gazette while he’s away?”

  “I’ll find someone,” Zachary said moodily.

  “Ambrose has a second love for journalism,” Rafe said, walking up beside her chair and taking the thin, frail hand she offered. “I think you can get him to run the Gazette while Zach’s away.”

  “Ambrose certainly knows the business,” she agreed. “Isn’t he hoping to help a leper boy with a start-up journal of sorts on Molokai?”

  “In fact, we’d like to buy that new printing press and take it off your hands. Ambrose and Eden have plans for it at Kalaupapa.”