Chapter Twenty-Eight
Even on his way to stop a brawl, Tavish was a breath away from throwing a punch at the man walking by his side. He’d not have thought Joseph Archer the kind of person to toss harsh words at a woman so clearly suffering as Katie was. Joseph had brought fresh tears to her eyes, something Tavish wasn’t sure he could forgive.
“You might have been a little easier on her,” he said.
“Not if I wanted her to stay standing through this.”
“She was doing fine before you came.” Tavish had, after all, led her from town. He had supported her through the entire ordeal. She had been holding up—struggling, yes, but holding up.
“I, for one,” Joseph said, “couldn’t ever be satisfied knowing Katie was doing merely ‘fine.’”
“That is not at all what I meant, and you know it.”
They were quickly approaching the edge of town. Raised voices could already be heard.
“Katie needed a push,” Joseph said.
“What she needed was compassion.”
They’d nearly reached the town and the line of people on either side of the snow-dusted road, staring each other down. It was one fight after another in Hope Springs.
Joseph didn’t look at him when he spoke, but there was an inarguable challenge in his tone. “It seems Katie will have to decide what she needs.”
They were no longer speaking of her response to the fire. “Katie’s already made that decision.”
“Has she?” Joseph spoke with infuriating calm.
Tavish loved Katie and was certain she loved him in return. He could make her laugh when tears hovered in her eyes and bring a smile to her face when she was burdened. He’d never seen Joseph do that. And yet, Joseph seemed so certain of his own claim on Katie’s heart.
“The troops have already assumed the formation.” Only when Joseph motioned toward the gathered townspeople did Tavish realize he wasn’t referring to their rivalry over Katie.
Tavish knew exactly what was going on ahead of them. The Irish had gathered around the smithy—what was left of it, at least—to show the Reds that they placed the blame for its destruction on the Reds’ shoulders. The Reds had gathered around the mercantile because they fully expected the Irish to retaliate. ’Twas likely only a matter of time before they did just that.
“So what happens now? Do you start evicting the town?” Tavish and his parents were the only members of his family who would be safe. The rest of his siblings had come up short on their payment.
“Not if they disperse,” Joseph said.
Tavish made his way to Seamus’s side. “How bad is it?”
“I’ve lost it all.” Seamus stood with his fingers shoved into the pockets of his vest, eyeing the charred remains of his business. Each exhaled breath formed clouds in front of him, adding to the desolation of the scene. “’Tis nothing but a pile of ashes and a few salvageable tools. I’ll not have the money to replace this. Not for years, maybe. Longer, more likely. I can’t recover from this.”
Smoke rose off the charred wood.
“Everyone will help you rebuild, Seamus. Every one of us.”
He shook his head. “They can’t pay for their own homes, Tavish. How’re they going to rebuild my business? They haven’t the money to replace my tools or my supplies.” His tone tightened with each word. “This has ruined me. Ruined me.” Seamus spun about and pointed directly at the Reds across the way. “And they know it!”
The Red Roaders stood with arms folded across their chests, unmoved by Seamus’s anger. He took a step into the road. Tavish held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. A single thrown fist or shove would set off the entire crowd.
“Keep calm, Seamus.”
“Don’t tell me to keep calm.” Seamus’s pulse pounded through the veins in his reddened neck. “There were children about, Tavish. Children,” he shouted at the Reds. “And these would-be murderers started a fire. Someone might’ve been killed.”
Bob Archibald emerged from the gathering outside the mercantile. “Be careful where you throw your accusations, Paddy. Who are you to say any of us did this? Maybe you were too careless.”
“You know full well I wasn’t even here.”
The men had come too close to each other for Tavish’s peace of mind. They’d lunge for each other’s throats any minute.
Joseph stepped between the men, though he addressed Tavish. “Talk the Irish back.”
Tavish looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, his countrymen were inching closer to their neighbors.
“We’ve lost a business, Joseph,” Seamus growled. “Our only remaining one, since they forced Katie to turn her bread business into a charity.”
“If there’s blood in the streets, Seamus,” Joseph answered, “they’ll lose more than a business.” He turned his glare on Archibald. “The same goes for the Red Road, Bob.”
“We’ve been accused of trying to murder children. You can’t expect us to stand back and be insulted.”
“That is exactly what I expect you to do.” Joseph remained calm despite the antagonism crackling in the air. He addressed the Reds. “If you are not here to help clean up the ashes and soot, then I suggest you go home.”
“Why? So these foreigners”—Bob motioned at the Irish with his stubbly chin—“can burn down the rest of the town while we’re not looking?”
“Don’t fret over that. I don’t mean to steal your favorite trick.” Seamus leaned in, spitting his words.
“Are you accusing me of something, Irishman?”
“Are you feeling guilty?”
“Not in the least.”
“Tavish!” He turned about at the sound of Da calling out his name. He, Thomas, Keefe, and Ian were doing their utmost to keep the Irish from rushing at their Red Road neighbors. O’Donaghue could be counted on to be carrying a shillelagh, perhaps MacCormack as well.
He joined the voices calling for calm. But who was keeping the Reds reasonable? They weren’t used to taking one on the chin in the name of peace.
He looked back, just as the Reds inched forward as a whole. There’d be a full-on battle any moment. Irish voices shouted right along with American voices, anger filling the air. Tavish tried to make himself heard, at least by those nearest him.
“We can’t—”
No one was listening.
“Da!” But he couldn’t hear him.
Someone rushed forward, nearly knocking Tavish over. He kept his place, trying to hold the crowd back. His boots slid beneath him on the slippery snow.
A piercing whistle silenced the mob. Then a voice spoke into the quiet.
Joseph. Again.
“You were all in church two weeks ago. You know the consequences of a brawl. A single drop of blood today and everyone here who is behind in their payments by so much as a halfpenny—and there are only two or three of you here who don’t fall under that category—will find eviction notices nailed to your door by day’s end.”
Faces paled. Movement stopped. Relief mingled with anger in Tavish’s chest. Joseph had stopped a fight that had been a second from exploding, but he’d done it by threatening people Tavish cared about.
He looked to Da, who seemed as unnerved as he felt. Ian stood not far off. He looked exhausted. He and Biddy hadn’t made their full payment, so he stood in danger of losing his farm. He was in no condition to be thrown from his home. If the worst happened, would they be willing to stay with him? Would their pride get in the way?
It won’t come to that. We’ll keep the peace somehow.
“Go home. All of you,” Joseph demanded.
Bob Archibald didn’t budge. Neither did anyone else.
“How do we know they won’t set fire to the mercantile the moment we’re gone?” Archibald demanded.
Tavish quickly eyed all those nearest him, silently warning them to keep quiet.
“Because the supplies in this mercantile are all we have to see us through this winter,” Joseph said. “The snows have come. Johnson’s boy will be here any day, and his will be the last deliveries coming into town until spring.”
“And without a smithy, we can’t risk breaking a wheel or an axle trying to go for more supplies,” Tavish pointed out. “If any horse needs a new shoe, there won’t be any way of getting one. If anyone’s tools or equipment needs repairing, we no longer have a forge where that can be done. Losing the mercantile on top of that will ruin us all. Every one of us, Red and Irish alike.”
A new worry settled over the group. They’d known lean years, when winter arrived early—as it had that year—and lasted longer than usual. Until the trail to the train depot was clear, nothing would go in or out of town once the Johnson boy was back. Even if they pooled every penny they had, no new smithing supplies could be obtained until the spring thaw. The mercantile was the town’s only lifeline now.
“Seamus, keep a few men here, only as many as you need to help you clean this up.” Joseph looked out over the Reds. “Johnson?”
“Here, Joseph.” Mr. Johnson stepped to the front.
“If you feel you need a few men to stay around, just in case, pick them out.”
Johnson nodded.
Joseph addressed them all again. “The rest of you, go home. See to your families and your land and leave your neighbors to do the same.”
Bob Archibald’s scruffy face turned smug. The whole thing had clearly gone in his favor. No one, not even his fellow Red Roaders, could possibly think he hadn’t been involved in burning down the blacksmith shop. He’d destroyed a man’s business, stolen his very livelihood, and he’d gotten away with it.
Tavish understood the need for peace, but he hated that it always seemed to come on the backs of the Irish.
“See to our own.” Bob nodded as he spoke. “That is a good idea.” His gaze narrowed on Seamus. “We’ll see to our road. You had best see to yours.”
“Is that a threat?” Seamus growled.
“Only a friendly suggestion.”
Joseph laid a warning hand on both men’s arms. Tavish reached out, taking hold of Seamus’s other arm. “Let’s see to cleaning up,” he said. “That needs to come first.”
Joseph gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Tavish didn’t feel much like being Joseph’s ally. But what choice was there?
Joseph had the money and the power and the influence. Tavish had very little in comparison.
But you have Katie. And that is more important than anything else.
Snow had fallen heavy and thick by the time Joseph reached Mrs. Claire’s door that night. The sun had long since set. He was tired and worn and worried. The town hadn’t made peace; they’d simply declared a temporary cease-fire. He’d seen guards posted where the road passed his property to begin its winding trek past the Reds’ houses. The Irish had followed suit; men stood on the Irish side of the bridge, taking turns to watch for their enemies.
Did they mean to stand in the snow all night long? He could only hope they’d thought to rotate out, rather than leave any one person exposed to the elements for so long. For just a moment he’d thought about stopping and trying to talk sense into them all. But he’d beaten his head against that particular wall too often of late. It seemed wise to take on only one losing battle at a time.
Speaking of which, he had to face Katie. He knew he had wounded her feelings earlier with his sharp words and lack of empathy. Tavish had played the “loving beau” role to perfection, and Katie had fallen to pieces under the umbrella of his affection. Joseph hated having to appear indifferent to her suffering, but she’d needed someone to remind her how capable she was. She was stronger than she’d allowed herself to be.
Very little light spilled from the windows of Mrs. Claire’s house. Joseph didn’t see the sweet old woman sitting in her usual seat by the window. He pulled his pocket watch out, doing his best to see the face in the dimness.
Nine o’clock. It was little wonder he was hungry and exhausted.
The girls would be asleep. Katie and Mrs. Claire might be as well. If he knocked, he might wake them up. Still, he wouldn’t stand out on the porch all night, and he wasn’t returning home without Emma and Ivy.
He leaned his head against the closed door, trying to summon the energy to decide what to do next.
The town had lost its smithy. He doubted those who’d celebrated the destruction understood just how devastating that could be for a community as isolated as Hope Springs. The anger simmering on the Irish Road wouldn’t remain under the surface long. It would boil over, matched only by the hatred of the Reds. It was really only a matter of time.
From inside Mrs. Claire’s house, he heard the faint sounds of crying. One of the girls? Joseph opened the door, peeking inside. If Emma or Ivy was hurt or upset—
He saw no one but Katie. She sat in the far corner of the room with a blanket draped over her shoulders, her knees bent, arms wrapped around her legs. Her head was bowed too much for Joseph to see her face, but it didn’t entirely muffle the sound of her sobs.
Words failed him. Katie didn’t cry often. Seeing it killed him a little every time.
The room was empty except for her and the low-burning fire. She was nowhere near the fireplace. Of course she wasn’t.
He crossed to where Katie sat. For a moment he searched for something to say. Nothing came to mind, so he simply kneeled beside her.
Her head jerked up. Tears streamed from her red, puffy eyes. Pain clenched Joseph’s chest at the sight.
Something like panic crossed her face. She swiped at her wet cheeks. “I only just—I didn’t—Only after the girls were asleep. I—” Her face crumbled as she took in a shuddering breath. “I know you told me not to fall apart until you came to get them, but—I tried, Joseph. I just . . . I hate fire. I hate it so much.”
“I know.” He rubbed her arm, unsure what else to do. His first inclination was to put his arms around her, but the last time he had done that, he’d ended up kissing her, and she’d run away.
“I didn’t cry until the girls were asleep. Not until then.” She sniffled. “No one else is awake. It was just me, so you can’t yell at me for that.”
“I wouldn’t yell at—”
“I don’t work for you, or anyone else. I’m no one’s servant anymore, so I can cry anytime I want to.” Her voice broke more with each word. “I am not a servant, and I am not a child. No one can yell at me for crying anymore.”
“You were yelled at for crying?”
Katie dropped her head onto her knees again. “I’ve had a hard day, Joseph.”
He shifted from his knees to a seated position next to her. Again, he had no idea what to say. She’d been scolded for crying, and not only during her childhood. He’d chided her for it just that afternoon.
“No wonder Tavish told me I was being heartless.”
She turned her head but didn’t lift it. “He said that?”
Joseph chuckled ruefully. “He didn’t mention that when he came by?”
“He hasn’t come by.”
“He didn’t come over at all?” Joseph frowned. Tavish had left town hours earlier.
Katie shrugged a little. “Mrs. Claire saw him pass by with Ian. She said Ian didn’t look well at all.”
Ian’s pallor had noticeably increased after Joseph issued his ultimatum. Ian hadn’t made his land payment. Had evictions proven necessary, he would have been forced to take Ian and Biddy’s home away from them. Even understanding the necessity of it, Joseph had hated himself in that moment. What kind of man lays such an enormous burden on the shoulders of a suffering friend?
“He is putting on a brave face, but he isn’t recovering very fast,” Joseph said. “I am doing what I can to help him and his family, but I feel helpless in so many ways. I worry about him, but I can’t seem to do anything substantial to help him.”
“I feel the same way about Biddy,” Katie said.
What would I do without Katie? She listened to his worries without dismissal or judgment. She understood his concerns and struggles. Until he’d met her, he hadn’t realized just how lonely he really was.
“If you can think of anything I might do for Ian and Biddy, let me know,” he said. Katie could be counted on to be aware of people’s hidden needs.
She reached up and touched his face. He took in a quick breath. The woman had no idea what she put him through.
“You are a good man, Joseph Archer,” Katie said quietly.
He didn’t want to send her running from him again. If he didn’t think about the warmth of her hand on his face or that tantalizing scent she wore, he might make it through their conversation without making a fool of himself.
She rested her head on her knees again. A wisp of hair settled across her temple. His eyes lingered on that bit of hair. He forced his gaze away—if he didn’t concentrate on something else, he’d have to sit on his hands to keep himself from touching her.
“Did you have a difficult time with the town? You look troubled.”
He was troubled by too many things to even count.
She smiled at him. “Would you like me to play my fiddle for you?”
Her fiddle. He loved hearing Katie play.
“Music soothes the soul,” she said. “My fath—my father told me that,” she finished on a whisper. Her smile vanished.
Her father was dying. Joseph had mailed her letter weeks earlier, then another of his own after that, but no answers had been waiting for him at the telegraph office when he took his grain to the depot. He had hoped to receive some word from her parents to help ease the pain in her heart. Here was yet another way he’d failed her.
“Mourning for a parent is a difficult thing,” he said.
Katie shook her head swiftly and adamantly. “I’m not mourning.”
He begged to differ. He knew the look in her eyes well enough. “You have to let yourself grieve, Katie. It will eat away at you otherwise.”
She sat up, leaning against the wall behind her, her arms wrapped about her middle. “I can’t. If I start crying about this, I’ll never stop.”
He knew, at some point, she would have to let herself weep for the loss of her father. She would have to grieve for all the pain she’d passed through as a child. But she had cried enough for one day.
Her stockinged feet peeking out from under her dress gave him the perfect change of subject.
“You’re wearing my stockings.”
“If I were wearing your stockings, they’d never fit.” She managed a fleeting lift to her lips.
He leaned against the wall as well, matching her posture and position. “My coat doesn’t fit you either, but you wear it.”
Katie rested her head on his shoulder. Joseph did his best not to breathe too deeply. If he moved in the slightest, she might pull away.
“It is too big, but it’s far warmer than my shawl.”
Joseph adjusted the blanket barely staying on her shoulder. That put his arm conveniently where it needed to be, though he hesitated a moment before settling his arm around her. She held her blanket close, but leaned more heavily against him.
He settled in, seated against the wall with the most amazing woman he’d ever met in his arms. It was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine.
“Did I ever thank you for the stockings, Joseph?” She sounded a little sleepy. He hoped that meant she was relaxing, letting some of her tension slip away.
“You did thank me for them,” Joseph assured her.
“They are so warm.” She wiggled her feet, her missing toes giving an oddness to the movement. “My feet won’t ever be cold again.”
Her tale of losing her toes to frostbite and infection still haunted him. “I hope they won’t be.”
She shifted enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but she looked at least a little less burdened. “Between your stockings and coat and my fiddle and those sweet little girls, I might just survive all this.”
“That is exactly what I am counting on.”
Her eyes opened and closed slowly.
“You should go to bed, Katie.”
“I can’t. The girls are sleeping there.” Her head returned to his shoulder.
He leaned against the wall again, content to have her at his side. “Why didn’t you send them up to the loft?”
She yawned. “I was playing my fiddle for them in my room and they fell asleep. I couldn’t bear to wake them up.”
She’d given his girls the gift of her music and the peace it brought. It was little wonder they loved her so much.
“Did you know, Katie—when you were still living at our house and would take your violin out by the grove of trees, I used to sit on the back porch and listen.”
Hearing her play at night had quickly become a highlight of his evenings. He’d spent each day hoping she would play that night. Hearing her music never failed to astound him, but there were no words adequate to describe seeing her play. The music transformed her. He didn’t think he ever saw her quite as at peace as when she played her violin.
“I have missed your music since you moved out.” He ran a hand along her hair, relishing that rare moment of closeness.
“I play for you nearly every time you’re here, Joseph.” She snuggled in closer to him. The woman was determined to torture him. “Perhaps you need to come by earlier in the day so you can hear it longer. I think you need the music.”
All I need is you.
Katie grew still, her head still leaning heavily against him. Her breathing slowed and deepened. Joseph memorized the feel of her so perfectly tucked against his side. What he wouldn’t give to spend the rest of their lives like that. But was that what she wanted?
He breathed deep the flowery scent of her hair. She might very well choose Tavish in the end. But he had this one moment with her.
With the patter of little feet, the moment ended.
“Pompah?” Ivy stepped out of the hallway, rubbing her eyes.
“Over here, darling,” he whispered.
She stumbled about, clearly half-asleep. Ivy curled up on his lap and promptly fell asleep again. He stayed that way, with Ivy and Katie asleep beside him. This was how he’d always imagined his family life would be. Happy children who knew they were loved. A capable and determined woman at his side, one he loved so much it hurt sometimes.
Life with Vivian hadn’t been that way. She’d been unhappy most of the time. In the end, she’d abandoned them all. Happiness was there beside him now if only she would choose to stay.
He dozed off and on for a while before realizing they couldn’t spend the entire night sitting on the floor. He slipped Ivy from his lap, settling her next to him. Careful not to wake Katie, he took the blanket from her shoulders and laid it over Ivy.
“I will be back in just a moment,” he whispered to his little girl.
Shifting about with Katie leaning against him proved something of a trick, but he managed it. He slid one arm under her bent knees and the other behind her back. He moved slowly to his feet, not wanting to wake her or Ivy or anyone else in the house.
Katie didn’t move. Even so deeply asleep, she looked exhausted. Was he asking too much of her, sending the girls over every day? She was baking bread for free for the entire Irish Road. And, though she insisted otherwise, Joseph knew she carried the full burden of keeping Mrs. Claire’s home tidied and in good repair, as well as cooking every meal and seeing to all the laundry.
He didn’t know where else to lay Katie down except back in her own bed. Ivy had left the door to Katie’s room open when she’d wandered out. Fortunately, she’d also left the quilt tossed back on the bed. That would simplify things tremendously.
The bed, however, was not empty.
Emma lay with one arm and half a leg dangling over the side. He carefully set Katie down on the bedtick and pulled the quilt over her.
“Let us hope Emma keeps still tonight,” he whispered to her, “or you will hardly sleep.” He brushed his hand along her face. “I love you, Katie.” He kept the whisper almost inaudible.
Her eyelids fluttered and she smiled a bit. Had she heard him?
“Katie?
But she didn’t answer, didn’t stir. Joseph stepped around to the other side of the low-lying bed and rolled Emma more fully onto it. He tucked the blankets around her as well. The movement was enough to wake her the tiniest bit.
“Papa?” Her voice was equal parts confused and sleepy.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
Her eyes opened a sliver. Her forehead creased. “Where am I?”
Emma disliked being away from home. She worried when her usual routine was upset. “You’re with Katie. She’s right here.”
The worry immediately melted from her expression. She silently nodded and closed her eyes. His little worrier was put at ease so quickly simply by knowing Katie was nearby.
“I know just how you feel,” he whispered.
Ivy was still asleep in the main room under the blanket. Joseph picked her up and carried her to the chair by the fireplace. He settled in with her there. It would be a long night trying to sleep sitting up, but he couldn’t justify waking his girls after the day they’d had and making them walk all the way home in the falling snow. And, though he struggled to admit it even to himself, he didn’t want to leave. He spent so much of his days trying to think of an excuse to visit Katie or prolonging the time it took to pick up or drop off the girls each day. For that one night, he could stay in the house where she lived and pretend that he belonged there.