Chapter Thirty Four, Part Two

Robert sat in the best of the lodge’s guest rooms, writing a letter. “Best” was a relative term, of course, but the windows weren’t broken and there was no water damage, so after sweeping and dusting, he had been able to make a passable study out of it for times like this when he wanted to be sure of no interruptions.

The letter was to Miguel and Amalia, and to a casual observer, there was nothing special to see. It simply related the day to day details of life in a small town. But he was writing in code, using a method unique to his particular faction in the civil war, where the shapes of letters and seemingly accidental marks on the page directed the reader’s eyes to the words and phrases of the encoded message. There had been a time when he could dash off such a letter with hardly a thought. Now he struggled. He hoped Miguel and Amalia wouldn’t be at such a disadvantage themselves.

What would he have to do to convince the town council to allow a telephone system again? Or even a ham radio? He had mentioned his experience with both when he first became reacquainted with the mayor, who he had known in school. But if Narciso harbored any ambitions to connect Castaño to the world again, he had given no sign and only nodded as if Robert were discussing mundane accomplishments such as carpentry or shoe-making. Come to think of it, carpentry and shoe-making might be more appealing around here, where the first was in short supply and the second absent altogether.

Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Robert would have to talk up the idea of communications with his fellow citizens. Then they could lean on the mayor for action or elect someone more amenable. That was the American way. Or rather, the USS way. Or was it? Robert had to admit he didn’t really know any more.

What he did know was that he needed some help from his friends. Getting the letter to them would be easy, but he didn’t dare send them money. For his plan to work, they would have to front him what he needed and trust him to pay it back. When he could do that he wasn’t sure, since a trip north meant possibly running into someone who would recognize him and pass the word along to Will Channing. He had risked it once to get here, and wasn’t ready to take such a gamble again anytime soon.

He could go in disguise, of course. The idea of wearing a disguise at his age made him smile. But then he couldn’t take Sophie with him, unless he was willing to explain why he didn’t dare show his face. Leaving her behind in the care of a local wasn’t a good option either. She would probably play hooky and ride her horse all the time, knowing her.

Robert would just have to wait and hope for the best. Maybe Miguel and Amalia could help him in this little matter, or would have other ideas he hadn’t thought of. He set down his pen and shook his hand to release some of the cramps forming in his fingers. It was taking way too long to write this one simple, but not so simple letter. Sophie would be waiting impatiently at the store, bored and plotting some kind of mischief if he didn’t get there soon. Poor girl. And poor Norma, who had to try to run the store with his wayward daughter underfoot. But there was no way he could have written this letter at the busy shop, with people coming and going, and Sophie asking questions.

But he was done now. He checked that the ink was completely dry, then folded it and put it in his pocket. As much as he would’ve liked to hide out here for a little longer, there were practicalities to consider. Like it or not, he had a business to run.