The Antwerp to Hamburg trip took seven hours including a one-hour stop at the German border. I occupied a second class compartment with two Nordic families who spoke no English. I moved from my seat by the window because the children walked on my feet as they pushed and shoved each other to get to the window.
I arrived crumpled and irritated. As I left the cavernous rotunda of the main bahnhof, I barely escaped being hit by construction material falling from a scaffold. I planned to arrive in Hamburg in time for the afternoon performance of the circus, but I had to find the venue. On a brick paved circle in front of the bahnhof, a line of motorized taxis and several jitneys waited for customers. I got into the back seat of a taxi and the driver spoke to me in German then French. I handed him the piece of paper. He stared at it and handed it back to me.
“Vhere?” he said.
“Nouveau Cirque.”
“Yah, Yah.”
He sped off with a cloud of black exhaust smoke billowing from the tailpipe. For twenty minutes, he steered the taxi skillfully through the tight streets and stopped in front of a dark, coal smoke-stained building that looked like a theatre. The unlighted marquee heralded Nouveau Cirque. I got out of the taxi, paid the fare and stood momentarily with my fabric valise in my hand trying to decide what to do. I walked to one of several double doors that were decorated ornately with frosted etchings. I tried one door. It was locked and then I pushed open the other.
Candy butchers arranged their goods. I smelled greasy brats cooking. I concluded that the show was opening in the evening. I stepped through heavy velvet drapes to reach the spectator seats. No one took special notice of me. I watched roustabouts adjusting equipment, moving animals, and screaming at each other in a myriad of languages. I suddenly felt at home.
Minutes passed before a burly man in short sleeves spoke gruff German to me. I suspected that he wanted to know what I was doing in the arena.
“I’m looking for the von Leuvenfelds.”
“Yah, yah,” he said pointing to the opposite end of the arena. I took ten steps in that direction when I heard a heavily accented male voice.
“Seth, vha’the hell you doin’ here?”
I turned to find Rudi striding toward me in his normal cocky gait. He wore a great wool cape and a black beret. He smiled as we greeted each other European fashion, with hugs, kisses on each cheek and pats on the back. The ritual made me uncomfortable when I first arrived but I was used to it after almost two months. No one in Indiana would greet this way.
“Here to see Raina?” he asked.
“Yes, and you too. Aren’t you with this circus?”
“No,” Rudi said, “but you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“I heard Karl vas injured, maybe kilted in a strange accident last month. I heard dis after ve got to Milano. I ’ave no talked to anyone myself, I just heard from other performers ve know. I’m like you here to see someone, too.”
“You aren’t with the von Leuvenfeld’s now.”
“No, after you got hurt and I fell I told Raina and Karl that I was finished for a while. They understood. I returned to Italy.”
We moved toward the far end of the coliseum. A few people milled around but no von Leuvenfelds. We stepped toward the main arena floor to see if the rigging belonged to Raina’s family. We could not tell anything from where we stood.
Rudi and I decided to find a hotel and eat before returning for the opening performance, but we didn’t want to pay for the performance if we could avoid it. He scanned the area for someone he might know. He suddenly pointed to man in the center of the arena.
“Let’s ask ’im for tickets,” Rudi said with a smirk. “Maybe he’d do it if we told him we are from Rawlings.” The man was about sixty and portly, wearing a light brown suit jacket that covered little of his giant stomach. He chewed a huge cigar and he screamed in French at one person then another.
“Who is he?” I said as I trotted to keep up with Rudi’s sprint.
“Ze owner.”
Rudi marched right up to the man and addressed him in German.
“Entschuldigen Sie Bitte! Herr Bradna, Ich bin Tomasini.”
The man then began rattled back in German. He ranted on and on, but Rudi told me later that Herr Bradna and his father had known each other. After he found out that Rudi had been with Rawlings, Bradna badgered him to join Nouveau Cirque.
Rudi only wanted tickets, which he didn’t get but he did get a stern reprimand for selling out to America. Bradna understood we were looking for the von Leuvenfelds, but he responded with disgust when he heard the name. He turned and walked away.
While they were talking, Raina’s teenage nephew ran up to Rudi. He was the blond boy that I had first seen swimming in the creek back in Indiana. He looked at me, puzzled.
“You’re the horseman. Vhat are you here doing ?”
“Looking for your family. To see the new act.”
“You heard vas happ’ned?”
“No. Tell me,” wanting to hear for myself exactly what had happened.
“Uncle Karl fell. His rigging broke. He broke his neck. He’s hardly alive.”
“Whose catching?” Rudi asked.
The boy, Mark, shook his head from side to side.
“Tonight, Uncle Karl’s broder, Herman. He’s old and zu vat. Ve’re looking everyvhere, but no one very good ve find. Herr Bradna gives us two veeks to find some’vne or ve out.”
“Where’s Raina?” I asked.
“She’s zu home. We stay in des city not var. They be coming at achtzen-dreissig.”
“Mark, got free tickets for two old friends?” Rudi asked.
“No, but I can get zem vhen Uncle Herman comes.”
Mark told us to meet him at the performer’s entrance at six-thirty that evening, and he’d have them.
“It’s opening night, I’m nervous for Uncle Herman. He’s OK for me but he make mistakes.”
Rudi boldly asked, “Any room for guests at your house?”
Realizing he should not have asked the question, Rudi rephrased before Mark responded.
“I mean is there a hotel near your house?”
“Yah, on Gros Strassa, vhere I get the trolley. Go out the front door, cross the street, take trolley 73A in zat direction.” He pointed to the right. “Vhen you get on, tell za driver ‘Gros Strassa’. It’s ten minutes. The hotel name I don’t know but it is clear on za corner. We live two blocks.”
We found the trolley and the hotel. Mark’s directions were Germanically precise. The hotel was on the corner, and we pushed open the wooden door with wispy white lace curtains over the oval glass. The man in the little reception booth welcomed us.
“Guten Abend.”
“Sprechen Sie Englisch?” Rudi asked.
“Nein,” but he made every attempt to get his thoughts across to us. We understood “Ein zimmer or zwei?”
Rudi looked straight at me. “What do you think?” I knew what he meant.
“One is enough. I came to see you and Raina. Are you here to see Anna or Raina?”
“Sounds like they have too much on their minds right now,” he said somewhat dejected.
The weekend was gray and rainy. It never became the relaxed and the joyous reunion that I envisioned. Being with Raina was strained even after she got over the shock of seeing someone she thought was dead. It was foolish of me to think that she would have heard that I returned to the Rawlings show after the goons threw me off the train. Even after a few hours, she was stiff and formal. At first, I thought it was because I was a teamster not a performer. Her response to Rudi was naturally different but still stiff. She had lost her spontaneity because of the situation with her father.
Their performance went badly from the moment the uncle tripped as he entered the arena. The flying was acceptable, but Uncle Herman was not up to the task of catcher, even though the audience enthusiastically applauded their congratulations. After the performance we waited for the family to ride the trolley with us. Rudi and I returned to the hotel after walking the Raina and Anna to their house several blocks away. A light drizzle fell as we entered the miniature vestibule. A tiny light welcomed us.
On Sunday morning, we visited Herr von Leuvenfeld. He recognized Rudi and warmly grasped his hand. His eyes told me he did not know who I was. Raina spoke softly in German, explaining to her father what I was doing in Hamburg. She seemed like a shy little girl as she sat beside him caressing his forehead with her fingers. His eyes glassed over and he slipped into another place. As we left the room, Rudi whispered to Mark’s father, Berke, who was in the act.
“Berke, any interest in lettin’ me catch? I’ve done it before. It’s been a few years.” Rudi said.
Berke looked at him.“You a great flyer, why catch?”
“After I left Los Angeles we decided to take some time away. Anyway we aren’t going back to the United States.” He paused and sensed that he hadn’t given enough of an explanation.
“My brother, Garielle, broke his ankle. Georgio’s wife just had a bambino and doesn’t want to leave her mother. Things are confusing and I vant to verk. Maybe I could catch? Want to try me?”
Berke said, “You catch before, right?”
“Yes, when I was younger… I stopped when I started to leap. I haven’t been up since I fell wrong on se net,” Rudi replied.
“Let’s try tricks after ve eat.”
After a delicious lunch in the hotel restaurant, where we squeezed nine people around a table for eight, we went to the coliseum. Berke, Mark, and Rudi strung the net, then Rudi made his way hand over hand up to the swing as Mark and Berke slowly climbed up to their perch. Uncle Herman, Raina, Anna, Arno, and I stood quietly below as the threesome prepared.
Mark leaped over and Rudi easily caught and released him. He flew back. Then Berke leaped across and almost overshot the catch. Benny retrieved him and sent him back. They tried the same thing again. Again the trick went well. Finally, they leaped exchanging positions. Mark flew first and was caught and released as Berke flew past him to the new catcher. We all applauded. Berke, Raina, and Anna tried to persuade Rudi to start that night, but he put them off. He wanted to know the entire routine and the matinee was only an hour away. A sense of joy seemed to return to the family. Uncle Herman was the happiest of all.
After the Sunday afternoon performance, Rudi and I invited Anna and Raina to have supper at our hotel. They accepted because there was no evening performance. Raina’s formality somewhat disappeared but not the sadness in her eyes. Joy seemed to have drained out of her as the conversation focused on her father’s accident. Raina described how and when it happened. She commented in passing that there was a large group of Americans in the audience the night that he fell.
That comment reminded me of the von Leuvenfeld’s accident that occurred in California. I asked Raina what really happened. They both acknowledged that there was clear evidence someone had partly cut the rope. Rudi went on to say that he had been spooked by the accident since it had happened so soon after my accident.
When I returned there had been speculation about a connection between me being thrown off the train and the von Leuvenfeld accident. Despite suspicions, no one could make a connection. Conversation in both German and English shifted to the food that was served on the heavy plates. I told the group about Wolf and the estate where we were going to gather the horses. They politely listened. We recessed from the dining room. As we left, Rudi indicated to Anna that he wanted to take a walk and then escort her home. Anna seemed amenable, and they left Raina and me standing in the doorway.
I invited Raina to join me on a love seat positioned on the right side of a small coal-burning fire place in the hotel’s reception. We sat quietly looking into the glowing fire until I asked Raina if the von Leuvenfelds were coming back to Rawlings show.
“Ve are not invited and I am sure ve vill not be velcomed. Mr. Rawlings threatened Papa and said he vould never fly in the USA if he left before the end of the season. Papa said, ‘that too many suspicious accidents’. Papa is too superstitious and stubborn. Papa decided after his own rigging was cut in Los Angeles ve to return to Europe, but now ’e’s real bad hurt. I don’t know vhat to do. He may die.”
She began to cry and I offered a handkerchief. I encircled her shoulder with my left arm.
“Seth, if he dies it only me. No mother, no broders or sisters, just me. I love him so much, I pray he will get bedder. But he slips more and more down. The doktor say he von’t get better.”
A scratchy recording of a woman singing about “The Man I Love,” sent its melody into the tiny space where we sat.
“When did your mother die?”
“She didn’t, she ran away from us. I never see her. I hate her.”
Raina moved closer to me and put her head back against my arm. I sat enjoying her warmth and scent. She didn’t move for along time and then looked at me with her bright blue eyes.
“Seth, vill you hold me?”
Without speaking, I moved my arm away from her and stood up taking her hand in mine. We walked slowly hand in hand to the bottom of the stairs and I led her up to the tidy little room that Rudi and I shared. I unlocked the door hoping he and Anna weren’t there. I locked the door behind us, attaching a small sign that I hoped conveyed “Do Not Disturb.” We undressed and I led because she suddenly seemed so vulnerable. I invited her to lie beside me and embraced her for many long minutes.
Her sobbing was audible but always controlled. We made love in a soft and sweet way. “Seth, could we be happy married?
“Raina,” I said, “I wonder because you are circus and I’m not. I am not like you.” As I spoke I was thinking a about Wolf and my feelings about him. “Maybe someday?” I lied to make her happy because I was in love with Wolf. If I wanted to spend my life with someone it was him.
“I have to care for Papa ’til he dies,” she said faintly. “He has only me. I love him so much.”
We held each other for another minute and then dressed in the dim light of a tiny desk lamp and left the room. Raina and I slowly walked to her front door where we brushed a kiss and parted. A light mist fell on my face as I returned to the hotel and found Rudi sleeping in an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. I rocked his shoulder and he awoke. We didn’t need to speak as we went to our room.
The next morning the three of them escorted me through the rainy streets of Hamburg to the train. The smoky compartment I entered was occupied by five beefy, smelly men returning to their ships in Antwerp. They were loud, but since I did not understand what they were saying, I focused on how I would convince Wilson, Rawling’s agent, to see von Leuvenfeld’s new act. Wilson stayed in Europe until late April traveling from circus to circus to evaluate new talent. Wilson would be reluctant to suggest the von Leuvenfelds to Rawlings if he knew they walked out on the last season. I decided to tell him the circumstances anyway, thinking he might be willing to take a stand on their behalf.
As the train sped along, I watched the winter landscape preparing for spring. Haskins’ death, my accident, Rudi’s mishap and Herr von Leuvenfeld’s fall concerned me but I couldn’t figure a plausible way that they were related. Ralph had never spoken kindly of the Germans but what was the connection. I heard that he had lost his only brother to a German bullet during the war. That was not enough to connect him to seemingly disconnected occurrences.
The train arrived precisely as scheduled at fifteen-forty. I wasn’t expecting anyone to meet me but Wolf and his chauffeur waited on the platform. When our eyes locked, he waved with his right arm high in the air.
“Thanks for coming, but how’d you know I’d be on this particular train?”
He spoke in his ever so precise English as we walked toward the automobile. “Monsieur LaFevre told me of your plans. He is already at my country house. Ve vill go there in the morning. He tells me the horses begin arriving tomorrow.”
We drove through the narrow streets of Antwerp as the evening’s gray light faded. The streets were crowded as people left their jobs and children emptied their schools. The city seemed so alive and different from Ft. Wayne, Indiana. I missed Indiana. Everything in Belgium took more effort when I did not speak French.
I recounted the details of my weekend for Wolf until we turned into a small alley off the boulevard. We pulled up to the garage doors of the brick coach house. “Vill you join us for dinner? Cocktails at eighteen-hundred and dinner at eighteen-thirty. However, if you don’t feel like dressing for dinner Madame Triesou, my cook, will serve you supper in your room.” I felt myself smile because ‘my’ room was ‘his’ room as it had been since night I arrived for the New Year’s Eve birthday party.
Very formally I looked at him sheepishly smiling, “Wolf, it would be my honor to join you and your friends for dinner.”
Not to be out done he retorted, “Wonderful, you will be expected to be dressed and ready for our guests at 6:00. Don’t be late. The friends coming to dinner you met at the New Year’s Eve party” He took a deep drag on his cigarette waiting for me to say something.
“My evening clothes are with my valise with Mr. LaFevre.”
“No,” Wolf said, “all your bags are here. A bit messed perhaps. Madame will press out the wrinkles.”
After exiting the automobile we entered the ample foyer with twenty foot ceilings and magnificently wood carved newel post and banisters. Madame greeted us. Wolfe paused and spoke to Madame in French then spoke to me. “You can have the room attached to mine. Madame will show you the way.”
Madame was a small woman barely five feet tall. She had a wonderful smile but spoke only French. Her body movement implied that I should follow her. I dutifully followed her up the stairs and deposited my valise next to the high canopied bed. Madame had emptied my travel luggage in the closet. The door that attached my room to Wolf’s was closed. I tried it and, as usual, found it unlocked.
“Douche, qui?’ I shook my head and she left to draw my bath.
Although my mind was preoccupied with horses, I joined Wolf and his friends in the finely appointed front parlor at eighteen-hundred. They were speaking French when I entered. I marveled at the fifteen foot windows decorated with heavy damask drapery. There were frosty glass coverings over the flickering electric light bulbs in the wall sconces. A glowing coal fire in the massive marble fireplace cast its own inviting light on the assembled group. Two men sat on the stiff brocade cushions of the sweeping Empire sofa while Wolf stood with his hand on the doily- covered high back chair beside the fireplace. He strode over to me and extended his hand.
Wolf’s friends included Monsieur Latrobe and Inspector MacDougall who worked for Scotland Yard. At Wolf’s urging, they graciously agreed to speak English. This was the Inspector’s preference, but Latrobe apologized that his English was not as good as his German.
The chauffeur-turned-butler served Martinis straight up with two olives. Conversation turned to crime in America. I did not know crime statistics and cared little about gangsters. Europeans loved to talk about crime in the United States. I had my own crime story, which Wolf had shared before I entered the room. I enjoyed Wolf and his friends just as I did at New Year’s. During dinner, the weather turned blustery with rain and blowing snow. Wolf insisted Latrobe and MacDougall stay overnight and offered to put Latrobe’s automobile in the carriage house. Both declined because of early morning commitments, but MacDougall invited himself to Wolf’s country house for the weekend. Then we sipped brandy in the billiards room.
“If you were suspicious of foul play, or even murder, how would you start trapping the murderer?” I asked MacDougall. A few pointed questions from him suggested that I had gotten his interest.
“We will talk further when we see each other on the weekend,” he said as he and Latrobe left shortly before twenty-one hundred.
After messing my bed covers I snuggled next to Wolf in his bed. As always our love-making was gentle and smooth. He did request that he enter me which was a first. It was slightly awkward at first but I got used to his rather significant member. He told me he wanted to see what I would do when he asked. I said, “I like you too much to refuse you anything.”
“Anything? he said smiling.
“Yes,” I said smiling back.
The next morning Wolf and I drove to Chateau de Lovenjoul. The day was sunny and cool, and the horses began arriving within thirty minutes of our arrival. They had to pass the medieval ruins of Wolf’s ancestral home and his massive stone house, where he had held the fantastic New Year’s Eve party. His family had owned the land and the chateau for over five hundred years. We gathered the horses in the board and batten stable with a stick thatched roof. The stable could have held the entire consignment. Each farmer or breeder who delivered horses brought the stock we ordered plus extras, hoping to make another sale. We bought a young Belgian stallion and two mares from the first farm. A veterinarian checked each horse.
Gathering the horses at Wolf’s had the intimidation value I had foreseen. In addition to being magnificent, Wolf’s estate was well-known in the area and he was highly regarded. Each breeder was paid by a Credit Agricole clerk who guarded thousands of Franc notes contained in Wolf’s elaborately carved wooden box. He sat at a table and chair in a frock coat and top hat never smiling as he reluctantly parted with the money.
Our veterinarian rejected only one Percheron mare. The breeder was furious and the two men screamed at each other in French. The horse had been injured, probably kicked, since we saw her. The veterinarian felt the bruise was significant enough to potentially cause long-term problems. We agreed with him even though I loved the horse’s disposition. The owner ranted and raved for at least fifteen minutes. However, we bought a white Percheron stud colt the man had brought along. The money we paid him was only about a third of what we had agreed to pay for the mare, but the man calmed down.
We selected twenty-eight horses and arranged for their care. The details seemed endless. We planned to hire extra help to get the horses across the Atlantic Ocean. Wolf had suggested in early January that I offer free passage to four men who were emigrating to the United States. In exchange for their paid passage, they would work with me until the horses were safely in the quarantine pens in New York City.
Wolf put LaFevre in touch with the immigration authorities. We looked for people experienced with large animals. In Antwerp near the docks, LaFevre interviewed thirty, maybe forty prospects before he was satisfied. He found a family of seven and he immediately sent them to Lovenjoul. They were natural horsemen so we hired the father, a fifteen-year-old son, and another man who seemed to be an uncle by marriage. They were Danish, and the boy was the only one who spoke passable English. We put them up in a small apartment over the stable. They moved in and around the horses with ease but there was little conversation with us because of the language difference.
LaFevre hired another man the next day. He was a short, wiry fellow with a large nose. His olive-colored skin highlighted marble black eyes. He was not as comfortable with the horses. The man handed me a note signed by LaFevre stating that he spoke little English but was a skilled carpenter. In Antwerp, he and LaFevre talked as we studied diagrams and layouts of the ship’s interior to determine what part of the storage hole we would occupy. We negotiated an area where the floor was level and near the ship’s hull. The air was fresher there.
Our carpenter, Juno, was strange and I didn’t care for him. Because he only spoke French, we said little to each other. It appeared that he didn’t like horses, and I never figured out why LaFevre hired him. The Danes did all the horse tending and never complained. Juno bought lumber and planned the stalls we would build on the docks. Juno kept himself apart from us most of the time. Three days before we were to move to the dock, he disappeared. He reappeared the next day with several steamer trucks. He refused any help and insisted that he and the dray driver could move the trunks.
La Fevre and I planned to get the immigration and agriculture clearances completed so we would be ready to leave on March 2. We encountered no problems thanks to Wolf’s contacts in the government. The steamship company assured us that the Mercier was a stable ship for her size. As the day of embarkation approached, I found myself wondering more and more about Juno. He said he spoke little English but somehow understood my questions. He showed unusual understanding of ship’s operations. I finally got around to asking LaFevre why he hired Juno.
“He’s a gud carpenter!” LaFevre said.
Wolf decided that we should celebrate my twenty-first birthday the day before we departed the estate. Inspector MacDougall joined Wolf and me at Lovenjoul as he said he would. I had not wanted to celebrate the occasion, but Wolf did. The three of us were together for a spectacular dinner of duck and quail with all the appropriate trimmings. It seemed ridiculous having three of us dressed in tuxedos sitting in a baronial dining table that could easily have seated thirty people.
The Inspector went to his room and undressed to his dressing gown and returned to my room about ten. I was intent on discussing my theory of the events including my accident. I switched off the small light by the door leading in from the cavernous hall. The fireplace light joined with the flickering electric light from my bedside table lamp. A bed stood next to a door leading into Wolf’s room. As I walked toward the bed, the door flung open and there stood Wolf clad in his underwear. He startled me.
I laughed nervously out loud. “Too curious! Have a moment?” Wolf returned in a few moments wearing a dressing gown and slippers. He was unconcerned about the Inspector’s presence.
I turned toward the small fire the butler laid. The lumps of coal glowed invitingly as I sat down is one of two high wing back chairs that flanked the hearth. I pulled my chair closer to the fireside. Before the inspector sat down he stepped into the hall. MacDougall grabbed the chair legs and he and Wolf carried a third wing back close to the fire. Wolf handed me a blanket and pulled his chair close to me.
MacDougall’s gown fell away as he sat down in the chair. The firelight highlighted his massive dick. He seemed unconcerned as he seemed to spread his legs wider giving his manhood more space. He lifted his balls and cock until they rested comfortably between his legs. His attention turned to my story. He seemed intent on sharing his theories with us. Wolf and I wrapped ourselves in blankets as the inspector spoke.
“Tell me again about the murder!”
I recounted for him Haskins’ death, my own beating, Rudi’s fall from the rigging in California, and the Raina’s fall after returning to Europe.
He thoroughly questioned me about the circumstance around Haskins’ death and my own accident, and concluded that the reason for my mishaps was revenge or jealousy. I told him that I could not figure what I had done to enrage Ralph.
“Jealousy, maybe. Guy gets the girl and all that rot? Sounds like I need to talk to von Leuvenfeld before it’s too late. I’m on my way to Berlin, I’ll make it my business to pass through Hamburg. I’ll wire you if I find out anything new.”
The inspector looked at Wolf.
“I wish that Swedish sauna of yours was warmed up.”
“It is. That’s vhere I was going and was coming in to get Seth. Come! Seth, do you know vhat he’s speaking of?”
I nodded negatively. It was close to midnight when the three of us trooped off toward Wolf’s billiard room. The dark wood paneled room smelled of a thousand spent cigars. We followed Wolf across the woolly carpet to another door. He reached for a light switch and swung open a door. A surge of warm air rushed out. He closed the door immediately once we were inside. The space was tight for three.
“Your pleasure, wrapped or unwrapped?” Wolf asked looking at me as he handed us towels.
“Natural it’s the only way its allowed in Sweden. MacDougall said. “This was a great Nordic invention, one of few things good that has come out of that goddamn icebox.”
Naked the three of us entered the sauna, we sat side by side on a bench. Little was said. I began to sweat in the very hot space.
MacDougall interrupted the quiet. “Let me finish… Seth, when you get very hot, leave and shower. It is right outside, correct Gigot? Towel off quickly and run to bed. Never a better night’s sleep
As I pushed open the sauna door the gush of cool air caused me to take a deep breath. Moments later the inspector and Wolf came out. We stood under the shower one at a time. The inspector stroked himself as if inviting us to join him. I watched as Wolf’s dick was beginning to rise. He turned away but did not fool the inspector or me. We dried off and wrapped ourselves in our dressing gowns. The inspector’s stiffness did not abate.
“I don’t mean to be invasive but Wolf I haven’t seen you smitten in quite a time.”
Sheepishly Wolf replied, “MacDougal, don’t embarrass Seth.”
“I’m not. I just said you seem so happy.”
“I am happy. I just regret that Seth leaves tomorrow for the United States.”
“I’ll be off to bed so the two of you can say ‘goodbye’.”
Boldly I said, “Join us for a while. We have all night.” He did join us in Wolf’s baronical bed three feet up in the air. Wolf seemed happy that I had invited MacDougal but probably wouldn’t have done it himself. Both Wolf and I got to suck on the inspector’s massive dick but we couldn’t get him to cum. I kissed him but his bushy mustache annoyed me. Before long my attention was totally on my wonderful Wolf. Without shame I entered his body cavity getting no resistance. Without fanfare the inspector slipped away and let the two of us to enjoy each other. Sometime after two we fell asleep intertwined.
As the morning light crept into our room I knew I had to get up and get ready to go to the ship. I kissed Wolf knowing it would be a while before I kissed him again. He said, “Seth, I am going to miss you a great deal. I hope we will see each other again.”
“We will. Why not come to New York? We will be there for three weeks.”
Our ship was scheduled to be in Antwerp for only one night. We had the horses at the dock and the stalls fabricated as the ship nudged up to her wharf. In addition to the thirty stalls that we readied for the ship, Juno convinced the shipping company to allow us to construct a small exercise area around the stalls. LaFevre contracted for feed and hay. I was assured of an adequate supply of fresh water by the steamship company. We discussed manure removal, and it was finally decided that the best thing to do was collect it and dispose of it in New York. I didn’t understand the decision, but I went along with it even though I thought it would be easier just to dump it overboard.
We set sail for New York on March 3, passing uneventfully through the Pas de Calais and into the English Channel before entering the Atlantic. I walked the deck that night marveling at the millions of the stars that dotted the ink blue sky. All was going as planned.