By the Light of the Silvery Moon Read Online Free Page B

trainer.”
    Quentin nodded. How long had it been since he’d had a simple conversation with an average citizen? “It’s easier to work with wild horses than people—that would be my guess.”
    “Precisely.” A chuckle split the man’s lips. He extended his hand. “Charles Bainbrigge from Guernsey.”
    Quentin nodded, gripping the man’s hand in a tight handshake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Que—” He cleared his throat. “I’m Henry Gladstone.”
    “How about you, Henry?” the man asked. “Is this your first trip to America?”
    Quentin tucked his hands into his pant pockets and leaned back against the deck’s rail. “I was born there, actually.”
    “Sure enough, gov’nor, I can hear your American accent now. Have you been in England long?”
    “Five years. Five long, long years. I left my father’s home and moved to London to start my own business when I was only twenty-one. But we don’t need to talk about that. Tell me, can you tell a horse is wild just by looking at him? Or is there something you see in his eyes?”
    The man cocked an eyebrow. “All horses are wild to some extent. The key to taming them is being mindful of the present moment. It does no good to approach the beast with an agenda. He’ll see you coming from a mile down the road. Instead, accept him for who he is. Then gently lead him in a way that shows how he can be different.”
    “Seems like good advice, and not only for our animal friends.”
    “That be right, gov’nor. There’s truth in that. I feel like a wild stallion at times, and the more I have friends who push for their way … the more I want my own.”
    The man continued on, talking about the unruly temperament of the last horse he’d trained. And as he talked about the importance of not getting angry or frustrated with a horse since it just made matters worse, Quentin’s mind wandered.
    It seemed one hundred years ago that he’d traveled from his father’s estate in Maryland to Europe. If his father could find such success in America, Quentin had been sure he could replicate it in London, England, The Square Mile. For a time it had worked. His steel supply business flourished. Everything he’d set his hand to had succeeded. Then—not weeks after his twenty-fourth birthday—everything changed. An English competitor came in, and most of Quentin’s customers turned to that man for their supplies. Lavish living took all that remained of Quentin’s wealth. Within months he went from having everything to having nothing at all.
    He lowered his head, not wanting to think about how far he’d fallen after that—lower than he ever thought possible. Did things. Unimaginable things.
    Charles finished his story and then hurried on to talk to the next passenger who dared to make eye contact. As Charles moved on, Quentin turned to the rail, noticing the ships’ guests were now departing the gangplank. Wistful looks radiated from their faces, and he still could not believe he wouldn’t be one of the thousands watching the
Titanic
sail away. Instead he’d be waving to them from the rails. A simple slip of paper Quentin carried in his waistcoat pocket told him he could remain. He took it out and looked at it, reading the name again: H ENRY G LADSTONE . If going by another identity offered a chance to start a new life in his homeland, then Henry Gladstone he would be.

     
    Amelia stepped into the narrow hallway just outside their stateroom, smoothing the soft fabric of the yellow dress her aunt had sewn for the voyage. She looked to the door of the room next to her, wondering if the man from the dock was there. She had yet to get his name. She also hadn’t told her aunt of the gift. She wouldn’t understand that Amelia had given her cousin’s passage to a beggar and drifter. In fact, there was much Amelia did that she didn’t reveal to her aunt. Sometimes safety, Aunt Neda believed, was more important than helping people.
    Should she knock on the man’s door, just