by Regina Scott
They went.
An owl called from the forest behind them as they made their way down the hill by the light of Clay’s lantern. Maddie marched along, hands fisted in her skirts. Michael thought her grip had as much to do with her emotions as with the need to keep her borrowed finery out of the mud. Her determination was like a hearth beside him, keeping him warm.
But warmer still was the memory of her words. She loved him. She was willing to stand beside him. He felt as if they’d turned a corner and found a whole new world waiting for them. They were going to be all right.
He wasn’t sure where to start looking for Patrick, but as they reached Main Street, a light near the pier caught his eye. Shadowy figures clustered around the last building on the row.
The smithy.
Michael put a hand to Maddie’s shoulder. “Go to the sheriff’s office. Find McCormick. Tell him there’s trouble.”
She must have seen the crowd as well, for she patted Michael’s hand before taking the lantern from Clay and running down the boardwalk, shoes clattering on the wood, skirts flaring behind her.
Clay drew a pistol from inside his coat. “Let’s join this party.”
Together, they approached the smithy. Michael could see more torches inside, the light glowing off the faces of the surrounding men. He recognized Hennessy immediately, along with Clay’s partners Aherne and Disney. Voices murmured in concern. But one voice rose above the others.
“Now do you see what we face?” Patrick was demanding. “It’s one thing when they come for us, but when they harass a sweet, innocent woman like Maddie O’Rourke, we cannot stand by.”
Agreement was immediate and enthusiastic. Michael entered the group, and men made way for him. He saw Clay slipping into the back.
“What crime had she committed?” Patrick asked, face impassioned in the flickering light as his gaze speared the group. “What wrong had she done that she deserved to have her livelihood burned to the ground, every last thing she owned destroyed?”
“Nothing!” someone yelled, and the others roared agreement.
Patrick pointed at them. “Nothing but being born in Ireland!”
Michael pushed his way closer, meeting nods of recognition and smiles of approval that he’d joined them.
“Organizing to protect our homes isn’t enough,” Patrick continued. “We need to know our families are safe. If there’s punishment needed, we need to be the ones bringing it!”
“Aye!” they chorused.
“For Maddie O’Rourke!” Patrick cried, raising his fist over his head.
Around Michael, voices took up the chant, until the words set the rafters above them to trembling. Light shone in every eye. This wasn’t the type of fire he could fight. How would he convince these men that the very fellow stirring them up had been the one to cause the trouble to begin with?
As the sound died down, a clear female voice spoke from the doorway.
“You’ll pardon me for saying so,” Maddie said, stepping out of the shadows, “but I’m not liking the way you’re using me name.”
Every voice quieted as she made her way to the front. Her red hair burned as bright as the torches, but brighter still was the look in her eyes. She came to Michael’s side and held his hand. The squeeze told him that Deputy McCormick was somewhere in the crowd. Michael knew the lawman must be fully ready to arrest the lot of them. It was up to Michael and Maddie to see that the right person was brought to justice.
“Happy I am to see you, Miss O’Rourke,” Patrick said fervently. “I only wish we’d been able to save your bakery.”
Murmurs ran through the crowd, regretful, angry at the injustice.
“Do you, now?” Maddie asked. She turned to address the other men. “I’ve thanked many of you for helping today, and I thank you again. Sure-n but I might have lost my life without your help. Who would be so brazen as to put the torch to my bakery, in broad daylight, while my brother and I were still inside?”
Patrick took a step forward, blanching. “You were inside? But you were supposed to be at dinner with Michael.”
So at least he hadn’t meant to harm anyone. Yet even as the thought entered Michael’s mind, he realized the rest of Ciara’s story must be true. Anger licked up him faster than flames.
“And why would that matter to you?” he demanded of Patrick. “Unless you had to be certain no one was inside when you started the fire.”
* * *
So it was true. Maddie could barely stand to look at Patrick’s handsome face, knowing how he’d betrayed both Michael and her sister. The others took the news nearly as hard. Gasps echoed around them, and voices turned dark as gazes fixed on Patrick once more.
“Careful, Haggerty,” Hennessy said. “You’re accusing one of our own.”
“There was plenty of trouble directed against the Irish before Miss O’Rourke’s bakery was burned,” someone else reasoned.
“And none of it before Mr. Flannery came to town,” Maddie insisted. She could not let the man get away with this. He had to be stopped before someone else was hurt.
“I have it from my own sister’s lips,” she told them all. “Patrick Flannery cozened a little girl to gain access to my shop for the purpose of setting it on fire.”
Again voices rose, some questioning, others scoffing.
Michael’s voice thundered beside her. “Listen to her! Patrick Flannery is not the man he claims.” He glanced at Patrick. “He’s not the man I thought him.”
She was sure Patrick would demur, claim innocence. Instead, his head came up, and his eyes narrowed.
“I’ll not apologize,” he said, anger darkening his voice as well as his look. “I was ever after the raising of the Irish.” He glanced out at the men, who quieted again in the face of his rage. “I saw what gangs like the Dead Rabbits did in New York. Their ways were hard, but they got results. That’s what we need here, a group of men who aren’t afraid to protect their own.”
“We didn’t need protection until you came along,” Maddie told him.
“Didn’t you?” His face twisted with a sneer. “You think you’re safe here? You think they won’t come for you? You’re wrong. You were sheep waiting for the butcher. I showed you the dangers! I showed you the future!”
Michael was pale. “We knew oppression in New York, Pat. How could you have brought it here?”
Patrick laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. “It was already here, me boy. I merely helped it along. Don’t you see? They needed a leader. It could have been us. We could have been important for once.”
“Sure-n but he’s already important,” Maddie scolded him. “A finer man I’ve never had cause to meet.”
Hennessy shoved men out of his way until he was standing directly in front of Patrick, his head down like a bull. “I’m not the smartest fellow, so let me understand this. All the thefts, the broken windows, the marks on people’s homes and shops, those fancy pants Miss O’Rourke found in my laundry sack, the fire that ruined her bakery—that was you?”
Patrick met his look, defiant. “Aye. I thought the pants would be enough to wake up Michael to the need, but it seems I had to do more to get your attention so you’d understand the reason we had to organize. It was for your own good, Hennessy.”
Hennessy drew himself up, towering over the others. “This isn’t Ireland, Mr. Flannery. The British crown doesn’t tell me what’s to my own good. I do.” His meaty hand reached out to grab Patrick.
The smithy erupted. Men shouted, fists flew. Maddie was jostled one way and another. The hem of Allegra’s gown, so hastily pinned, caught on her feet, and she felt herself tumbling. Michael’s hand seized her, and he sheltered her against him as anger rose on all sides.
Near the far wall, a shot rang out. Maddie flinched. Glancing back, she saw Deputy McCormick lowering hi
s gun as all eyes turned to him.
“That’s enough of that, now,” he drawled. “I’ll be taking Mr. Flannery into custody for theft, vandalism and arson. If you have knowledge of his deeds, I want to hear from you. The rest of you, go home.”
The men shuffled off. Several stopped to apologize to Maddie, promising they hadn’t known of Patrick’s plan. Others waited for Deputy McCormick, and she could only hope they were confessing what they knew. Beaten, Patrick stood beside the deputy, head bowed as if accepting his fate.
Maddie turned away from him, wrapped her arms around Michael and held him tight, thanksgiving welling up inside her. “It’s over,” she murmured. “We’re safe.”
Michael rested his head against hers. “It’s over. And it’s just beginning. You have a business to rebuild and a wedding waiting for your cakes.”
She shook her head, feeling his chin firm against her hair. “There’s no time. James and Rina are to be married in four days.”
“Then you have a lot of work to do,” Michael insisted.
His determination was infectious. Could she really do it? She had no bakery, no equipment and no supplies, and she was already behind schedule with the loss of today’s rolls.
They’d just stopped a madman from setting the entire city ablaze with his anger. What were a dozen cakes and a few hundred rolls? Together, she and Michael could do anything.
Maddie leaned back to eye him. “How much time do you have between now and the wedding?”
“Seeing as I must have earned my employer’s everlasting gratitude for breaking up a riot in his business, probably quite a few hours,” Michael assured her. “What do you need?”
“Help,” Maddie said with a smile. “And I know just where to get it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Four days later, every man, woman and child within a five-mile radius of Seattle was crowded in the yard of the Brown Church. Ribbons fluttered from the trees, and yellow bunting draped the tables, which groaned under rolls and cakes that were rapidly disappearing with cries of delight. James and Rina Wallin sat at the head table and smiled and thanked everyone who had come to wish them happiness.
Standing beside Michael near the church, Maddie heaved a satisfied sigh. One of her former travelling companions closer to her own size had loaned her a green gown with white cuffs and collar, another a paisley shawl. She fancied that, with her hair curled up at the nape of her neck, she looked rather festive.
Michael had also managed to cobble together clothing for the day—brown trousers, tan wool waistcoat and a tweed coat. The narrow brim of his hat allowed the sunlight to sparkle in his blue eyes. His smile now was all pride in what they had accomplished.
Mr. Terry strolled past with his lovely wife on his arm.
“Well done, Miss O’Rourke,” he said. “You and your army waged quite a campaign.”
“And how would we have won without your command post?” Maddie said with a smile. She and the rival businessman had come to an agreement. She would bake for the wedding in his ovens, and the Eureka Bakery would get some of the credit for catering the wedding. James had made sure to mention both businesses in his welcome speech to the guests.
Of course, if it hadn’t been for James and his brothers, she might still have failed. The logging family had dropped everything at her call for help. Under Michael’s direction, they’d carried in supplies, helped mix and knead the dough, and shuffled products from worktable to oven and back. She’d never forget the sight of massive Drew Wallin swathed in an apron, powdered sugar speckling his chin, as he broke a wooden spoon attempting to beat the icing.
All the Wallin men were beaming now at the marriage of their brother. Even Simon, the only one to match Drew in height if not brawn, looked happy for a change as he tucked his fiddle under his chin to play the bride and groom a song in celebration. The soft melody floated on the air, bringing a smile to every face.
Ciara and Aiden came running up just then, eyes bright over the finery Nora had sewn for them in time for the wedding. Now that Patrick had been taken into custody and the extent of his dark deeds revealed, Maddie’s sister had shed much of her animosity. She and Maddie had finally come to an understanding, and there had been few outbursts.
Oh, Ciara still had her queenly ways. That was evident as she eyed a passing youth with her nose in the air. But Maddie felt as if she finally knew what her brother and sister needed, and she had hopes she and Ciara would have a much easier time of it in the future.
Michael cleared his throat. “I can think of no finer time than a celebration of marriage to ask you an important question.” He reached into the pocket of his wool waistcoat.
Maddie stared at him. The smile on his face, the hope shining in his eyes, told her what he was about to do. She caught his hand, closed his fingers over the ring that glittered in the sunlight. She wanted no doubts for either of them as to her answer.
“After all we’ve been through, Michael Haggerty, it is I who should be going down on my knees.” She suited word to action, tears coming to her eyes as she gazed up at him. “I was afraid to love you, afraid to watch that love die in the trials and tribulations of life. But you never wavered. You made me see that love doesn’t have to die in adversity. It can grow stronger.”
“Maddie,” he murmured, fingers caressing her cheek.
She put her free hand over his, holding the warmth close. “I hope someday to be a lady of means, but right now, I’m poor as a church mouse. So all I can offer you is a dream—of a life and a family held together by love. Will you marry me?”
Michael laughed, but she could see the answer in his eyes as he lifted her to her feet. “Always have to be the one in charge, don’t you, my girl?” he teased. “Nothing would make me happier than to marry you and make us a family. I love you, Maddie, with all I am and all I will be. I know together we can make something beautiful of this world.”
He bent his head and kissed her, and she was certain an entire orchestra had joined Simon in a song of celebration.
As Michael drew back with a smile, Aiden stared at them. “Does this mean we all get to live together forever?” he asked.
“Yes, silly,” Ciara said. “It means we’ll be a family for real now.”
Michael put his arms around them all. “I like that. A forever family.”
A forever family. The ingredients had been there all along, but it had taken mixing and kneading and even heating to bring them all together, Maddie realized.
And the love between her and Michael was the most important ingredient of all.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BABY BARTER by Patty Smith Hall.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Maddie and Michael’s story. I knew it would take a very special man who understood the importance of family to make a match with the feisty redhead. I couldn’t resist adding the part about chicken races. My great-great-grandmother and her siblings raced the family chickens, until their widowed father figured out why the hens had stopped laying!
You’ll find more information about pioneer Seattle and my books on my website at reginascott.com, where you can also sign up for an alert to be notified when the next book is out.
Blessings!
Regina Scott
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
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The Baby Barter
by Patty Smith Hall
Chapter One
Marietta, Georgia
Fall, 1945
Sheriff Mack Worthington made it his business to notice people.
And the woman standing in the shadows of the massive oak tree at the edge of Merrilee Davenport’s backyard had sent his senses on high alert. Not that he could see her all that well. The brim of her felt hat covered most of her face, leaving him at a distinct disadvantage.
But it was the little things that made him question her reasons for being there. In the tan skirt and white blouse she wore, she looked more prepared for a trip to the market than attendance at a wedding. And why did her fingers unconsciously dig into the sides of her purse as if she were holding on to it for dear life? Tension held her ramrod straight, reminding him of a soldier ready for battle.
What fight did this woman expect to face here?
“What’s got you twisting around in your chair like a kite in a tornado?”
Mack glanced at the older lady to his right and felt the knots in his stomach relax. Ms. Aurora’s tone had just the right combination of chastisement and concern that came from years of caring for other people’s children. He straightened in his seat. “Nothing, Ms. Aurora.”
She studied him a long moment until he felt himself start to squirm again. “It don’t look like nothing to me.”
Billy Warner, the oldest of Aurora’s current batch of foster children at twelve years old, pushed himself out of his chair, his cane anchored against his side as he stretched up to get a better look down the rows of chairs that lined the makeshift aisle. “Is Claire up to something? I knew she’d get bored with all this wishy-washy romantic stuff.”
Mack’s lips twitched as he put his free hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into his seat. “Claire is on her best behavior today. That girl’s been looking forward to seeing her parents get remarried since her daddy showed up back in town.” John and Merrilee had a troubled past—filled with misunderstandings and manipulations by her family meant to keep them apart. But they’d triumphed over it all, as this wedding proved. And their twelve-year-old daughter couldn’t be happier.
