“BOARD, page 2
He’d cautioned her repeatedly about problems that might come from too much interest in other folk’s business, but it looked like she’d never change. Her strong interest in people sometimes turned her into–what would he call it? A snoop? A busybody? No, those sounded brutal. Maybe he should think of her as... as... an instinctive detective.
She’d undoubtedly noticed how negatively both men acted toward being photographed, though they obviously didn’t want to be seen as avoiding the camera. Trouble was, he sensed something wrong about those guys too, so how could he blame her for a heightened interest?
If only it didn’t go any further than that.
If only she was better at tempering curiosity with wisdom.
Ignore them. Stay out of it, let’s just enjoy our special day together, he wanted to say, but couldn’t because they might hear him. Hey, wait. He could write her a note.
Henry felt in his pockets. No paper.
He knew well enough she’d react negatively to being warned off any interest in those two anyway, even if he could speak to her about it now. She’d simply point to his own interest in people, not to mention his tendency to imagine pending criminal activity where there was none.
Usually was none.
He opened his eyes and stared over her head into distant hills. He wished he could erase a few leftover memories from his long years in the Kansas City Police Department. It was okay to have a friendly interest in people, but a unique talent for noticing suspicious activity was definitely not a plus in his life today, nor was his heart-stopping fear for Carrie’s safety when she got involved with potentially bad people. Knowing the awful things some humans could do to each other was a legacy from police work. He’d seen, first hand, the horrible endings, the brutality, the....
Stop it!
Carrie said his former profession gave him an educated insight into people’s needs, and that was a good thing.
Well, maybe. Most of the time it seemed like a curse, not something to be welcomed.
True, his insight had helped save Carrie’s life once when she was in danger through no fault of her own. Other times–well, she was sometimes better at getting into messes than out of them.
No, that wasn’t fair. She’d saved him from a hellish mess in Hot Springs, when he’d been the one who was curious about Everett Bogardus’s actions in the first place.
Trouble was, he hadn’t been able to sort all this out yet. It was hardly the thing ordinary couples in love were expected to come to terms with.
“Henry, when we’re in a unique position to help people, we should do it. That’s a blessing, not a curse.”
He started to say “Maybe you’re right,” aloud, but then realized he’d only imagined she was repeating words she’d said to him months ago.
He frowned. Should they have turned away from helping people when they clearly could? Sure, sometimes it had been family or friends, like when JoAnne was murdered, or when his sister Catherine and Carrie’s son Rob got into trouble at Buffalo National River. That was different. But other times the people had been strangers. So, what about the strangers?
What about now?
Ahh, but now was off the table. No one needed help here and, no matter how strange the two guys acted, they had nothing to do with Carrie McCrite or Henry King.
“Winslow tunnel, coming up,” the conductor said. “1700 feet long. The grade has been so gradual, I’ll bet few of you realized how much we were climbing. Winslow is the highest incorporated town in Arkansas.”
Henry reached over and put his arm around Carrie. When they reached the tunnel, he’d hug her tight all the way through.
JOURNEY INTO HISTORY
“It’s a-l-l-l down hill from now on,” the conductor said as they left the total darkness of the tunnel. He paused, shaking his head while surveying his passenger’s faces.
“Well, what on earth does he mean?” Carrie asked, as she and Henry pulled apart like teenagers caught making out. “All down hill?”
Henry didn’t answer, but he was grinning as the conductor continued. “What I’m saying, of course, is that we’re beginning our descent into the Arkansas River Valley. Oh, did you not know that’s what down hill means?”
Carrie chuckled, along with almost everyone else in the car.
“The Arkansas River has always been important to Van Buren. It offered shipping access to the Mississippi and the world beyond long before there were railroads in the area.
“A man named Thomas Phillips established Phillips’ Landing near the river’s major curve in 1818. In the 1830’s the town’s name was changed to Van Buren, after then Secretary of State Martin Van Buren, who became the eighth president of the United States in 1837, as I am sure all of you remember.”
He winked at them and went on. “By the time Van Buren took the oath of office, two sharp businessmen named John Drennen and David Thompson had bought the town from Phillips for a reported eleven thousand dollars. They established a business selling firewood to flat-bottom steamboats plying the river, and also advertised the area’s amenities in southern newspapers. ‘Payment for lots,’ their ad said, ‘is accepted in Mississippi, Tennessee, Alabama, Louisiana, or other bank notes.’”
“Did states print their own money?” Carrie asked.
“Sounds like it,” Henry said.
The conductor continued. “Since overland freight shipments were all propelled by horses, mules, or oxen back then, the presence of a river that was navigable, at least some of the time, was important for commerce. I’m thinking Drennen and Thompson must have raked in the money as Van Buren developed into a thriving river port.
“It wasn’t all smooth steaming, however. There are a lot of boats at the bottom of the Arkansas River. In fact, during much of the 1800’s, the Arkansas demanded the second highest insurance rates of any American river. It was surpassed only by the Red River. Water in both rivers could easily be too low for safe travel, and many boats ran aground or hit snags. In addition, Confederate boats were burned and sunk near Van Buren during the Civil War, helping give the river one of its nick-names, ‘Steamboat Graveyard.’
“Which brings us to railroads. And, speaking of that, on the left you’ll see the town of Chester, which used to be a rail hub on this line, with a roundhouse and busy rail yards. The two-story brick building on the corner was once a railroad hotel, now an antique shop; it’s said to be haunted.”
The conductor returned to his seat as everyone, including the two men in front of Carrie and Henry, looked toward Chester’s haunted hotel.
Carrie’s attention popped back into the car when Chuck Dovish stood. Golly, she’d better get busy thinking up things to say about this trip. She could tell him it was an anniversary gift from her husband. That ought to make it into the TV program.
But Dovish didn’t come their way. He only moved across the aisle as he and the man with the camera turned their attention to the mother with two small children. Well, they were cute kids, and the little girl had already begun talking excitedly in response to some question or other.
Rob wouldn’t have done that. Her son would probably have tucked his face against her side and remained silent. He still had a problem with conversation–unless he was lecturing to one of his anthropology or American Indian history classes at the university. Professor Rob McCrite never ran out of words. Ah, well. Maybe Catherine could teach him the art of social conversation. Dating Henry’s much younger and very talkative half-sister had already enhanced Rob’s ability to interact with humans who weren’t in an academic setting.
Carrie went back to watching scenery and glancing–only occasionally–toward the seat in front of her. The two men were now behaving like ordinary passengers. She saw them exchange brief comments now and then, which would be normal for strangers who had no particular interest in each other.
She surprised herself by being glad about that. After all, this was a fun trip planned by Henry as a special gift to her. She had no reason to be concerned about those men. It was time to stop speculating about them and spend every bit of time enjoying this day.
Watching scenery slide past had begun to make her fell drowsy when Dovish returned to his seat and the conductor stood to continue his history lesson.
“In 1882 this rail line was completed, linking Van Buren to St. Louis and beyond, and making the town an important rail junction. The Frisco Passenger Depot we’ll be seeing at our destination was completed in 1901 and is still in use as a depot and museum.
“Passenger travel dwindled toward the middle of the last century, and was discontinued in 1965, though the line continued to carry freight. Then, twenty or so years ago, the Arkansas and Missouri Railroad folks decided they’d like to re-open limited passenger service for tourists and anyone else who wanted to experience rail travel as it was in the ‘good old days.’ They began a search for historic cars that hadn’t been dismantled for scrap, and ended up with four. Those cars were restored, and this excursion train ran for the first time in 1992. The cars you’re riding in today initially saw service some time between 1917 and the early 1930’s. A&M found and added L’il Toot, our antique caboose, in 2006.”
He took out a big pocket watch, studied its face, and then held it up for all to see. “My father was a railroad man, and this was his watch. It still keeps perfect time, and tells me now that our estimated time of arrival in Van Buren is 10:40.
“There will be a short pause after we enter town while the engine switches to the opposite end of the train and pushes us into the station. Please stay in your seats, since we’ll experience a few bumps and jerks. I’ll let you know when it’s time to get off.
“You’ll have three hours to enjoy your tour of Van Buren’s historic district. In addition to many shops, there are several good restaurants along Main Street to serve you when you get hungry.
“Be back at the station by two o’clock, ready to board for the return trip. Mr. Dovish from AETN will be with us again on the ride back, and he plans to chat with a few more of you about your impressions of today’s journey into history.
“Remember now, we’ll be boarding at two. I’ll see all of you back here then.”
Carrie touched Henry’s arm. “I’m eager to be off the train so we can begin exploring antique shops.”
“Oh. Were you planning to buy something?”
“Who knows? Eleanor and Jason have driven down here more than once to go antiquing. She told me Jason likes to look at the old tools and toys in a shop called Fletcher’s, so we need to find that place. Many of the shops sell fancier stuff, though. You know, china, glass, and jewelry. She says there’s furniture, too.”
“Carrie, I hope you aren’t thinking of doing much shopping, especially for furniture. I didn’t see a freight car on this train.”
She frowned. “Well, no, but for gosh’ sake Henry, we could drive back to pick up something if it was too big to carry.”
He pursed his lips and said nothing, then turned away to watch the engine move past windows on the other side of their car as it began a switch to the opposite end of the train.
Uh-oh. Carrie wondered what he’d thought they were going to do for the three hours they’d be in Van Buren. Sit on a bench and people-watch? Of course they’d go shopping; that’s what everyone came to do. She felt just a tiny tinge of impatience, and then, sadness. Actually, other than groceries and the time he went with her to select Christmas gifts, she and Henry hadn’t shopped as a couple since their marriage. But, she’d never thought...well, wouldn’t they enjoy looking at things together? And, after all, she was the one with money. She could jolly well spend it however she wanted.
Thinking that stopped her cold. If she ever said aloud to Henry what she’d just thought, well, it might be hurtful. And how could she even think it?
Sure, he knew she had her former husband’s money now, and that it amounted to a lot more than his own police pension, but they’d never, ever talked about it. For eight months she’d been so careful not to make anything of who paid what bills.
When they first met, she was the one who needed a paying job to help make ends meet; she was the one who had less money. It hadn’t mattered who had what back then. Why should it matter now?
Well, Carrie, who says it does matter?
Maybe this was only a problem inside her head. Henry had never said anything, or acted like his male ego was being crushed because he had a wife with money. At that, Carrie almost laughed aloud. Which wife? His first wife had been very wealthy. He must be used to women with money by now. At that she sighed, forgetting that he would hear her.
“What’s the matter, Little Love?”
“Oh, well, I was just thinking.”
“A penny.”
Must he? What could she possibly say?
“Well, I’m just sorry you don’t want to go shopping.”
“I....”
A bump. The train began moving again, oh so slowly, and Henry’s words matched its speed. “I’ve never gone antique shopping. Irena sure did, though. She was constantly adding more stuff to the house. Cut glass and china and porcelain figures and silver. All kinds of fancy junk. It was her money, and she paid the maids who dusted and polished all of it, so why should I care what she bought? I just had to be careful I didn’t break anything.
“Carrie, all I know about shopping is buying socks and underwear and shirts. Of course, after the divorce I had to shop for food and basic household necessities, but that wasn’t much. I ate out most of the time.”
She spoke hesitantly. “We go grocery shopping together. That’s shopping.”
He stared at her as if some great enlightenment had dawned on him. “Going grocery shopping with you is entertainment. You see more possibilities than I ever did. We talk about what we want, look at new ways food is presented, even laugh at a few of them. Much better than rushing in to grab the few items I had to have when I lived alone.”
“Van Buren,” the conductor called out. “Van Buren, Arkansas. Please stay in your seats until the train is fully stopped, and check to be sure you have all your possessions with you. Don’t leave anything in the car. We’ll see you all back here in three hours.”
“Y’know,” Henry said, “I’m hungry. Breakfast was gosh-awful early. Let’s look for a place to eat.”
She grinned, reached for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Sounds good to me. We’ll go shopping for lunch.”
A DAY TO DIE FOR
“Talk about the good old days,” Henry said, scraping a fork across his empty plate and then licking the tines. “I haven’t seen the words ‘plate lunch’ on a restaurant window in years, nor have I eaten real peeled-on-site mashed potatoes in any restaurant lately. I swear, Carrie, I’d almost drive all the way here to eat Carol’s chicken-fried steak again.”
“I agree, it was delicious,” Carrie said, looking past him out the window. “So why don’t you have some of that pie with ice cream while I look in a few shops?”
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind.... How about meeting me back here in half an hour or so? If I finish and they get crowded, I’ll wait on the bench outside.”
“Okay. See you later.”
Carrie managed a quick look through one shop with stock that was more collectable than antique, then moved slowly through the next one, enjoying the cut crystal serving pieces displayed there. She finally selected a deeply cut English crystal nappy that would be perfect for dressing up store-bought preserves. Making conversation while the shop owner was wrapping it, she admitted she’d like to know more about Van Buren’s history.
“Came in on the train, you say? Well, you haven’t much time, then. If you’re on the Internet they have history, and stories about many of our Main Street buildings. Just Google ‘Van Buren, Arkansas.’ And you might try Brandenburg Books across from the depot. It’s mostly used books, and Larry sometimes finds gems of local history.
“You know, though, the fastest way you’ll learn our history is to look at the painted mural wall in Riverfront Park. It was done by local art students about thirty years ago, and tells the town’s story in logical sequence. Kind of a short course, but a good overall idea of our rich heritage.”
“That sounds perfect. How do we get there? Is it far?”
The woman handed Carrie her package, then looked at her doubtfully. “How are you for walking?” It’s several blocks to the river, but the walk goes pretty fast unless you stop off in shops along the way. It’s at the end of Main Street, and getting there is all downhill, but coming back is a pretty tough chug, even for youngsters.”
“Ah. Well, I walk at home, but hill climbing slows me down quite a bit. Maybe we can drive back here this fall to see it.”
Carrie’s disappointment must have shown, because, after a thoughtful pause, the woman said, “I live in a houseboat beside the park, and I’m going home for lunch as soon as Iris comes to relieve me. If you walk down there, I’ll drive you back.” She looked at her watch. “I could meet you by the park’s entrance at, say, one o’clock?”
“My husband is with me. I left him eating pie at Carol’s.”
The woman laughed. “And no wonder. But don’t you worry, there’s room for both of you in my car, even if he’s swelled up with Carol’s cooking. You go on and get him now, and I’ll see you at the park gate about one. I’ll be in a red Toyota.”
“That’s awfully kind, but I hate to bother you.”
“No bother. I’ve got to drive back from the river anyway.”
“Well then, we’ll do it, and I thank you. Before I leave, though, I think I’ll get that crystal pitcher I was admiring, and the gold pendant with the greenish stone in this case.” She pointed. “It’s next to the divider. Yes, that’s it.”
“Oh, I love that, too. The stone is kind of blue-green. It matches your eyes.”
“That’s what my husband will say.” Carrie smiled up at her. “Will it be okay if I leave my packages here until we return?”
