CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JUNE 1872
Ma had always said that for every blazing sun in the noonday sky, there was a waning moon waiting; it was the way of the world. I’d dismissed the aphorism as rot until my joy came to a crashing halt in the sweltering heat of summer.
Things had been going so well. My family moved out of Maggie’s brownstone and into the Gilsey House hotel, and my electoral chances were better than ever. But then as I was packing for a much-anticipated speaking tour out West, I began to shake uncontrollably. I slid to the floor in a heap, and the world went black.
It was a faint from which I could not seem to wake. I could open my eyes for short periods of time, but when I did, my arms, legs, and head were like lead. I was constantly hot and sweating and could barely choke d
