The Bucket Flower. Donald R. Wilson
came to be among her possessions she had no idea. Then she saw the envelope. Inside was a note. It read:
May 7, 1893
Dear Elizabeth,
I understand why you are running away, but I cannot fathom how you have found so much courage to do it. I wish you safe journey. I have done everything in my power to keep you safe. Mr. Moses Gallagher is a reliable man.
Your father will be more favorably disposed toward his sister if it appears as if I had known nothing about any of this.
Love,
Aunt Sarah
P.S. Have you sent your reply to Mr. Cushing yet?
She looked at the derringer again. The chrome-plated weapon was so small she could cover it with her hands. The twin barrels were over one another instead of side-by-side as one would expect. Hunting through the valise for any other unexpected gifts, she found none. She read the note again. Aunt Sarah hadn’t explained who Mr. Gallagher was. The dear lady had known about her niece’s plans and had not attempted to stop her. She felt as if she had underestimated her aunt from the start and was embarrassed that it had taken so long to discover what a good friend she had.
Inside her valise she had pinned the name of the botanist in Fort Myers that Mr. Flagler had promised to contact, Dr. Worthington. Mr. Flagler, being the busy business tycoon that he was, had probably forgotten to send the telegram as he had promised.
Mr. Gallagher remained a mystery.
Where was Mr. Bolton? Had he missed the train? Continuing on alone was not a pleasant prospect, but she was determined to meet Dr. Worthington and get a clear picture of the situation in the Big Cypress Swamp. The conditions that Mr. Flagler had described, with bears, alligators, and other beasts, couldn’t be that bad.
She imagined that the man with the reddish-gray mustache was staring at the back of her head again. Being unable to help herself, she turned around. He was still there, his large, round, blue eyes staring rudely at her as if he had never looked away.
She hadn’t noticed the other man approaching from the opposite direction until he was standing over her. In his hand he held a silver flask, which he brandished in her face. With his other hand he lifted her valise into the aisle and stuffed his fat body into the seat beside her before she could protest.
“Want a drink, lady?” he asked. “Ralph Henry Prichett is my name.” He was clad in a threadbare black suit, black boots, and a bowler hat that he had forgotten to remove in the presence of a lady. His face was fleshy and unshaven, his eyes were watery, and an unkempt mustache and bushy sideburns made him out to be a totally unsatisfactory traveling companion. He punctuated his offer with a one-hundred-proof belch.
“Please replace my valise on the seat and sit somewhere else, sir” she snapped. “My husband is coming right back.” Her bravado was short-lived. She had no idea how to deal with this cave dweller. She might threaten him with the derringer except for his having put the valise beyond her reach.
“You called me ‘sir.’ Now that’s nice. It’s the sign of a true lady, and a beautiful one, too.” Both Papa and Mr. Flagler had warned her about ruffians like this one.
A hand on the drunk’s shoulder made him turn toward the aisle. There stood the little man with the reddish-gray mustache.
“Excuse me, sir, you’re sitting in my seat.”
“The lady prefers my comp’ny. They’s plenny other—” Suddenly the big man jumped from the seat with an agility that bewildered her. Then she understood the reason: The little man was standing in the aisle and had opened his suit coat just enough for both of them to see a holstered revolver.
“Please excuse that unpleasantness, Miss Sprague,” said the little man with the gun. He returned her valise to the seat beside her. Prichett took a few steps away, then turned and gave them both a vengeful glare before heading toward the front of the train. “I should have come forward sooner. Please let me introduce myself. I am Moses Gallagher.” Everything had happened so quietly and quickly that the other passengers were not aware.
“I met your aunt, Miss Sarah Sprague, in St. Augustine, and since you and I were both going in the same direction, I promised to look out for you.” Just then a cloud of sooty train smoke blew through the car making it hard to breathe for a moment.
“Thank you, Mr. Gallagher,” she said with a cough, waving away the smoke. “I appreciate your timely arrival.” She put the valise on the floor near her feet. “Won’t you please sit down?” Relief flooded over her.
“Thank you, Miss Sprague. I was wondering how I might broach an introduction without startling you. That bummer solved the problem for me.” He was mostly bald and wore his remaining reddish-gray hair close-cut. His most outstanding feature was his large, blue eyes. He was wearing a garish plaid three-piece suit with gaiters. His moustache and clothes were meticulously cared for. She guessed he must be in his early fifties.
“Aunt Sarah is full of surprises,” she said with a laugh. “How did you meet her?”
“I was one of the two Pinkerton detectives at the Ponce de Leon. Your aunt asked me, in my official capacity as a hotel detective, to keep an eye on you. That was my pleasure, but in so doing I discovered your plan to go to Fort Myers. You shipped two crates to the Hotel Hendry and later confirmed your intentions when you had two Saratogas put on the train to Tampa. Since the hotel is closing for the season, and I was headed in this direction, I was pleased to take on other work.”
“I don’t recall seeing you at the hotel,” she said.
“I’ll accept that as a compliment, Miss Sprague. My job was to stay in the background and keep an eye on everyone. Have you seen this man?” He withdrew a photograph from his pocket. It showed the head and shoulders of a young man with dark hair.
“No. Who is he?”
“Someone I’ve been hired to track down. It’s one of three jobs I presently hold.”
“What’s the third one?” she asked, amused.
“I also sell Dr. Corey’s Cosmic Compound. It provides me with a little extra income and a way to meet people. My case is on the other seat. I can provide you with a bottle of Dr. Corey’s elixir for just one dollar.”
“No, thank you. Aunt Sarah must have been shocked to know that I had arranged to have a young gentleman escort me to Fort Myers.”
“Ah, you must mean Mr. Bolton. I’m sorry to say he had to make a sudden trip back to Baltimore.”
“Oh, dear, I hope nothing serious happened,” she said.
“Not at all. Mr. Bolton, who wasn’t as affluent as he might have led people to believe, came into some money and was induced to go home.”
“Are you saying that Aunt Sarah bribed Mr. Bolton?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. You might say it. In fact, you just did.” He smiled at his not-too-subtle way of conveying his meaning. “I don’t suppose I could get you to change your mind and go back to Boston?”
“No, Mr. Gallagher. I am determined to accomplish what I’ve started.”
“South Florida is no place for a lady to be traveling alone. You’ll see many more men like that drunkard. And to expect to go into the swamp is foolhardy. Beside that, this heat and humidity gets worse in the summer. You should go north now and come back in November if you must.”
She knew that going north now meant never coming back.
Mr. Gallagher excused himself and went through the cars asking if anyone had seen the man in the photograph and did the same with the ticket agent at Palatka. The Pinkerton man was clean-cut and had a pleasant smile, but then Papa’s words came back to her: “Some no-account can steal your money before you are able to turn around.” But then, who was he to talk? He had separated her from her inheritance.
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