Must the Maiden Die Read Free

time
Bronwen had not appeared. But she must be on this next train. It
was the last one scheduled until the following morning, and Bronwen
had promised to arrive for her cousin Emma's pre-nuptial party to
be held that evening. Breaking promises had not in the past been
among Bronwen's shortcomings.
    At last, and after a series of piercing
whistles, the east-bound, twenty-ton locomotive roared around a
bend, its brakes screeching. Several minutes later brought the
westbound train grinding to a halt. Now facing each other on their
separate tracks, the engines followed by their long tails of
passenger cars looked like two fire-belching dragons about to
engage in mortal combat.
    Glynis had moved away as the trains steamed
into the station, spewing sparks like live volcanoes. One of these
days a spark would fly too far and send the entire village up in
flames. Although she had been predicting this for a decade, and
while it had happened in other places, it had yet to happen in
Seneca Falls. Perhaps because someone had the foresight to demand
the station house be built of brick.
    When passengers began descending to the
station platforms, Glynis inched forward, hoping they didn't notice
how thoroughly they were being scrutinized. It would not be the
first time that Bronwen, now employed as a United States Treasury
agent, had traveled in disguise. In fact, she had cheerfully
admitted, "It's as good as being invisible. Just consider the
possibilities!"
    Glynis considered many as she stood there
studying each arriving passenger with a wary eye and craning her
neck to see past the uniformed men now waiting to board. Although
there could be no reason for her niece to disguise herself here in
Seneca Falls, she might do it just for a lark.
    "Miss Tryon?" said a familiar voice beside
her. "Glynis?"
    She looked around in surprise at the tall
woman, close in age to her own early forties, in a simple dark
dress; her thick brown hair, visible under a small bonnet, had been
drawn back over her ears into a coiled bun at the nape of her neck.
Glynis felt a warm flush creep into her face. She'd been so
engrossed in the role of unmasking her niece that she'd missed the
arrival of Susan Anthony.
    "I'm sorry, Susan, I didn't see you," she
apologized.
    "No, you looked right past me. You must be
expecting someone?"
    "My niece. You might remember Bronwen. Bronwen
Llyr?"
    Susan began to smile, and the keen blue-gray
eyes held an expression that said: I would be unlikely to
forget her.
    She would not, of course, actually say that.
But what rose in Glynis's mind was a memory, a very clear one, of
being brought to the window of her library above the canal by the
noise of ducks and geese squawking furiously as they scattered in
every direction. The reason for this uproar had appeared in the
form of Bronwen, astride a horse that she was galloping, to no
earthly purpose, along the canal towpath. As it happened, a team of
mules, their towlines running to a packet boat, had been plodding
along the path minding their own business. Glynis had made what
seemed to her, and surely to any other sane person, the natural
assumption that when Bronwen saw the mules she would rein in her
horse. Instead she had urged it on. Glynis had sucked in her
breath, wanting desperately to turn away, but unable to tear her
gaze from the looming catastrophe. Then, with the aplomb of veteran
circus performers, horse and rider sailed over the mules as if they
were just another programmed obstacle. The mule driver's reaction
had been obvious from the clenched fists he'd shaken, and it had
been a long while before Glynis could breathe normally.
    What brought this to mind at the moment was
her later discovery that Susan Anthony had been aboard the packet
boat that day.
    The woman was now smiling broadly. She
pulled a scarlet shawl around her shoulders, saying to Glynis, "I
like your Bronwen. In fact, I like all your nieces—"
    Susan was interrupted by a sudden surge of
noise. The men of New