1888, New York

I heard the rider coming down the lane toward our house. He rode like he was in the race of his life. I looked behind him to see if he was being chased but saw no one. I had been in the front parlor for most of the morning working on a short story to sell to Peterson’s magazine.

They bought most of my work and for now it was the only income my family had. The estate where I lived had been in my mother’s family for three generations, and now we stood to lose it. My father not only drank most of our money, he gambled away what he couldn’t put in a glass. My mother’s health had continued to decline.
I knew mywriting stories were more than income, they were solace, escape from reality. I had a three-year-old son, but never married. So scandalous in my world, my father turned to drink and never came up for air. My mother fell into a deep melancholy. She too, never returned. They abandoned me when I needed them the most.

I will always stand by my son. As I watched him enjoying the warm summer weather and playing ball in the front of the house, I wouldn’t change the past for anything because he was all that I saw. No scandals, no blurred faces of loveless men, just my handsome son.

I stepped out onto the terrace. The rider approaching at such a fast pace worried me. "Thomas, come up to the house."

He was disappointed but being the sweet child he was, he picked up his ball and ran up to stand near me. He too, noticed the racing rider.

"Who is that?"Thomas was three and fairly articulate for his age, but even with every word pronounced well, his adorable child lisp came through.

I shook my head. "I don’t know. Go inside the house while I speak to whoever this is. Lock the door behind you."

He did as I asked. I waited until I heard the click before I could relax a bit. We lived in a massive home near New York City. It was on an estate of over twenty acres, had over sixty rooms, including stables and outbuildings. Not that it mattered.

The gardens and grounds were hardly what they were in the past and we no longer had horses. If we wanted to travel, we needed to rent a carriage. We had some service staff left, but not enough to run this household. I had closed one of the wings to eliminate some of the demand on the staff.

The rider drew near. My mother came to the window and knocked. I waved at her to stay inside, but she didn’t. To my surprise, she stepped out onto the veranda to stand with me.

"Thomas tell you someone was coming?"

She nodded, running her hands over her hair that had recently picked up a gray hue in the sunlight. "The creditors, I assume."

I nodded in agreement. "Might be, but what is so urgent?"

The rider disappeared for a moment behind the high brick fence then entered the drive. He rode up to within twenty feet of the veranda, halted a lathered horse, and then dismounted. He was drenched in perspiration and covered with road grime. He took off his hat. "Miss Judith Westfield?"

"Yes, I’m Miss Westfield."

He offered some manners witha quick bow. But without waiting for an invitation,he raced the stairs up to the terrace. My mother didn’t like his forwardness and backed away. He paid little heed. "Miss Westfield, I’m Ray Evens."

The name rang a bell, very faint bell. Though my mind raced for something to identify, I couldn’t. I nodded in return. "Mr. Evens."

He took another deep breath having expanded all he had on his ride here. He was holding a letter in his hand. "I come from the newspaper, The New York World."

He waited for me to acknowledge who he was, as if he was of such great importance. But I remember having submitted many stories to their office and not so much as receiving a polite, or impolite rejection letter. And here they stood on my terrace? Why? I was about to ask when the eager visitor continued to speak.
"I’ve been sent to ask you to write an exposé for the paper."

My heart skipped a beat. When had I reached such notoriety as an author to gain the attention of one of the largest newsprints in the nation? One I had repeatedly submitted and never heard back. What made me a sudden star?  I remained unruffled, though I was desperately curious and more so in need of money. "By whom? Who is the editor?"

"Adam Rosen."

I did recognize that name, one of the biggest in the business. The one and same who I had sent my stories. But why me? He could have his choice of writers, reporters, working for him. He had several on his own staff. Why me? "This makes me most curious, Mr. Evens. Why would a man like Mr. Rosen need me to write anything for him, since he cared little for my stories?"

The man’s eyes grew large. "Have you not heard?"

"Heard?"

"The news about Morgan."

I stiffened. This was the first time I felt my balance falter a bit, but I kept my focus on my visitor. My mother turned as if to catch my reaction to the name Morgan. I wasn’t in the giving mood. I kept my calm.

"No, Mr. Evens, I have not heard anything about Morgan." I did take a short breath to bolster my courage. "Which Morgan?"

"Kane Morgan."

 I could not deny a small sense of relief in learning the danger was for the senior Morgan and not his son, Andrew. "And what about Mr. Morgan?"

"He’s been shot."

A slight pin prick to my skin would have brought me to my knees like a deflated balloon. I didn’t want my own distraction to unravelthis discussion. Yet so many images flashed through my mind all at once. All were of Andrew Morgan. I held steady and braced myself for what was coming. "I had not heard. Was the shot fatal?"
"No, ma’am. But he’s in a bad way. He was ambushed near Folsom, California."

"Where they’ve been living for the past ten years. Again, I had not heard." I glanced toward the house and could see Thomas with his nose pressed against the glass. I knew the rumors about me. I knew many thought Thomas was the product of a secret love affair with Andrew Morgan. At least that was the scandal of the moment. I knew this request was linked to my knowing Andrew Morgan, but I wasn’t for sale, especially where it concerned Andrew. "I’m afraid you have wasted your time, Mr. Evens, I’m not writing anything about Kane Morgan."

I turned, keeping my chin up in a dignified way.

"The paper is offering three thousand dollars, ma’am."

"Oh my Lord," my mother whispered.

Now that was a lot of money, and granted, I was in desperate need of money. The house was in decay and creditors threatened to have our belongings auctioned off. So far, with my writing, I’ve been able to stave off the wolves, but I knew that was only for a short time.

I turned back to face Mr. Evens. "Why me?"

I needed to hear him say it, admit why my writing skills were now in such demand. Fess up, and I might reconsider. Dangle that money one more time, and unfortunately, I’d cave.

"Well, Ma’am, it is well known you were once engaged to Andrew Morgan, and you are a writer."
"Yes, I was. That was a lifetime ago. Andrew left West Point four years ago. As far as writing, did Mr. Rosen appreciate my story called, Around the Mulberry Bush?"

I saw Mr. Evens glance toward the window, seeing Thomas and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Dare he bring up my son and all bets were off. I would divest him of his tongue. He shifted back to me.

"Miss Westfield, we hoped that you would have a way in." He was playing it smart by not naming Thomas.

"A way in? Am I to play a spy?"

"A way into the Morgan’s stronghold in California, The Renaissance. The place is a fortress. The whole world is clamoring for news about Kane Morgan, but Rosen, he wants something more up close, more personal."
I forced a casual shrug. "Contact the Morgans."

"Every newsprint in the world is trying to get to the Morgans. They do not respond to inquiries for interviews. We thought you might be the key, being a writer and all. Mr. Rosen has read some of your short stories and some of the news reporting you’ve done. He’s quite impressed, Miss Westfield."

"Is he? Apparently not so with Around the Mulberry Bush." I strolled over to the settee on our terrace. I felt in control. I understood the world’s appetite for information about Kane Morgan. People want to hold on to him as their American folk hero, when in truth, he was merely an outlaw. Which brought me to another conclusion I needed this young man to confess. "Meredith Berry turn you down?"

The color fled Mr. Evens face. He knew the name. Finally, he gave a slight shake to his head. "She was not asked, nor would we, knowing she would not get what we needed."

I was relieved to hear that. She would be my only competition.

Meredith Berry was a wealthy American heiress who entangled herself with Kane Morgan. It was the scandal that shrouded every newsprint for months. Suddenly, she returns to New York and marries a titled man from England. Some Lord that now made her a Lady by title, and the butt of many jokes.

"Miss Westfield, with this assignment, we would like some insight on Mrs. Morgan, Annabelle. She’s been approached many times, but like her husband, she refuses. But woman clamor to hear about her."

I had never met Mr. or Mrs. Morgan. I met Andrew Morgan when he was attending West Point. My father, a US Colonel, was an instructor there. My family had lived in West Point in a beautiful cottage near the Hudson River when school was in session.

It was a lovely home with full length porches along two sides of it. At least six bedrooms, four parlors, and a beautiful courtyard. We’d retreat to Capri, closer to New York for the summers. Now we lived here year-round since my father’s drinking cost him his position at West Point. I had loved West Point and our lives there, rather than this broken-down mansion. 

My parents had always put a great value on social status, how things would appear to society. Both were wrapped up in pretenses, sometimes elaborately carried out, to suit their needs. Such as denying Thomas was their grandson, explaining him away as a relative's ward. They were not manipulative, just played by a set of rules only people of their status knew. My downfall destroyed all of that. I still live with my parents but at this point, I'm the parent to them.

Andrew and I met at one of the dances with the military cadets. From that moment forward, Andrew continued to court me. But my father so disapproved, not because of Andrew’s character, he was impeccable. It was because my father and Kane Morgan had fought on opposite sides during the war. His hatred of Morgan was so strong, he refused to recognize our engagement or give Andrew permission to marry me. But Andrew stuck through it all, until the scandal.

I was lost in the past for a few moments until my mother sat down next to me. "We so need the money, Judith."

"I know but I don’t think I could get into that family for an interview. They hate reporters and have never given an interview and one can only guess what they think of me after the breakup."

"Perhaps, Andrew would see the struggle we are in—" My mother wasn't giving up.

"No, no, he must never know."

I may be in dire need of funds, but I hadn't lost my pride. Andrew knowing about my plight would only dim the little hope I had placed in myself.

"Then what do we do?" my mother pleaded in a whisper.

I envisioned what that money would mean to my family estate, my mother, and my son. I swallowed hard the bitter taste that I might indeed be for sale. But I wouldn't be sold cheap. I chewed on my lip for a second, patted my mother’s hand then whispered for only her to hear. "Trust me on this."

She nodded, though I doubted she understood. I motioned for Mr. Evens to come closer. "I would have to travel to California. This is such an inconvenience that I think I’ll decline—"

He took in another deep breath as if he couldn’t bearwhat I was about to say. "Ma’am, the paper has authorized me to offer as much as five thousand. I can’t go higher without their approval."

"Were you trying to get me at a lower rate?"

He nodded, flashing an unusually boyish grin. "I was, Ma’am."

That made me chuckle. "I admire your honesty, Mr. Evens. Still?"

"I can’t go higher, Ma’am."

My mother was feeling a sense of panic. I motioned for her to remain quiet. I was negotiating with this young man. They would go higher if they wanted to hire me. This job would require my directly seeing the Morgans. "I don’t believe that is enough of an incentive to undertake such a journey. Have a good day, Mr. Evens."

I motioned to my mother to come with me. We stepped inside the house. As I closed the door, Mr. Evens was still standing there staring at me as if I were insane. Well, five thousand dollars was an obscene amount, but every cent I could squeeze out of this I would.

Five thousand would support my family and this house for a few years to come, with enough left over to invest. I had to take the chance. I knew I was the only connection to the Morgans they would find. I had no idea if I could get into the family, especially to interview Kane Morgan. But I also knew, I was the only possibility.

I watched Mr. Evens ride away from the house in the same fury he had arrived. His dark frock coat fluttering out behind him.

"What are you going to do, Judith?"

I smiled, putting on a face maybe a tad braver than I felt. "Direct Ralph to acquire transportation for me. I'm making a call."

"On who?"

"Meredith Berry."

"For what purpose?"

"For a way to get inside the Morgan fortress."