He couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow Katie to remain in danger.
He sat through dinner, debating how to go about insisting she leave without either wounding her feelings or alarming her. She’d been mistreated by far too many people in her life. He didn’t want his name added to that list.
He stepped into the kitchen after the girls had finished their meal.
She looked up at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, Joseph.” She continued working as she spoke. “I saw a stack of letters on your writing desk. Does there happen to be one for me in there?”
Katie had written to her ailing father in Ireland and was clearly hoping for a response.
“There hasn’t been enough time yet for a letter to reach here from Belfast,” he told her, hoping to ease her disappointment.
“Are you trying to tell me that patience is a virtue?” Her light tone and smile did his heart good.
He loved her smile. Though she had arrived somber and painfully unsure of herself, Katie had eased into life in Hope Springs and in his home. She fit there like a piece in a puzzle.
Joseph leaned against the countertop near the sink where she worked. “Bob Archibald’s visit has me thinking.”
Katie’s smile dimmed visibly. “Is it terrible that I’m convinced within myself that he was behind Ian’s beating? I know I’ve not a bit of proof, and maybe it’s only my own dislike of the man talking, but I blame him for it. I blame him entirely.” She gave a tiny shake of her head, shrugging as she did. “’Tis likely terribly unfair of me, I know.”
“I doubt there is a single person in all of Hope Springs who doesn’t think Bob Archibald is responsible for Ian’s condition.”
Her hands stilled in the dishwater. She pressed her lips together, mouth downturned. “I’ve heard whispers,” she said hesitantly, “that many suspect Ian was set upon by an entire group of people.”
Joseph was certain of that. Even caught off guard, Ian could have defended himself against a single attacker. Still, Katie was worried enough; she didn’t need to know the feud had truly descended into mob attacks. He could only hope more violence would not follow.
“You think that as well, do you?” Katie returned to her washing, scrubbing with more determination than she had before. He’d learned that about her—she cleaned with vigor when she was upset. “That is a terrible, terrible thing to do to a man. Did Bob Archibald say anything to you about it?” She spoke uncertainly, watching him closely. “Did he say what might happen next? If . . . if there’s more danger?”
Leave it to Katie to strike directly at the heart of the matter. He’d never known her to shy away from a problem, little or great. “Archibald didn’t make any specific threats, but I didn’t care for his tone.”
She dried her hands on a dishrag, her brows drawn as she spoke to him. “Did he make vague threats, then?”
Nothing got past Katie. He was grateful in that moment to have someone to talk with. “His main point of complaint was ‘people not staying where they belong.’”
She turned the tiniest bit pale. “He was speaking of me, was he?”
Joseph brushed his fingers against her arm, wanting to reassure her. He never allowed himself anything but the friendliest connection, a momentary touch on the arm, an encouraging word or two. He never crossed beyond that no matter how desperately his heart cried out for her companionship. Touching her was torturous.
His touch brought a half-smile to her face. His own burden lightened seeing even a tiny bit of her worries lifted. He wished he was in a position to do more than that.
“I don’t want to bring trouble to you here, Joseph.” Katie took up position next to him, leaning against the countertop. “But what am I to do if the Reds mean to make problems?”
He kept himself still, resisting the urge to put an arm around her shoulders and draw her closer. “I think, Katie, it would be best if you go live on the Irish Road.”
“I intend to, just as soon as your new housekeeper arrives.”
He knew in his bones that waiting even another few days would be a mistake. “Bob’s demeanor worried me, and you know I am not easily shaken. I can’t be certain the Reds’ patience will hold out long enough for my new housekeeper to get here. I think you need to make the move tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened and her voice rose. “Tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“That is so soon. Who’ll look after the house and the meals?”
He had no idea. More likely than not, everything would fall apart. He and the girls would have to go back to his questionable cooking skills. But if Katie thought her departure would cause them difficulty, she would insist on staying. “We’ll manage.”
“Joseph.” Doubt and scolding filled her tone. Clearly he hadn’t convinced her. “I saw the state of things when I arrived. You need me here, and you need me badly.”
She had no concept of how true that was. “I need you on the Irish Road, Katie.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you firing me?”
He couldn’t tell if her posture was more angry or hurt. “No. I simply think it would be best if you left as soon as possible.”
Hurt. Definitely hurt.
He held up his hands in a show of innocence. “I am not complaining about your work, nor am I saying we don’t want you here with us. We do. We want and need and love having you here. I am only thinking of your safety and the girls’.”
“The girls’ safety?” Her gaze bored into his. “Surely no one would do anything to either of them.”
He didn’t think so. He hoped not, anyway. But hatred made people unpredictable. “I would rather not find out the hard way that I was overly confident about their safety.”
Worry knit her brows. She pressed her fingertips to her downturned lips. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to them.”
The very thought settled as a weight on his chest. “Things will not be easy here without you, but sending you away is the only option I can accept right now.”
“I could come back each day, cook meals and such, straighten up a bit.”
So long as she lived on the Irish Road, would the Reds object to her continuing to work for him? Finbarr had been working for him for years. He wanted to believe they would have no objection to Katie still working in his home if she didn’t live there.
But what if I am wrong?
“It is tempting, I assure you, but the Reds need to see that—”
“That I’ve been put where I belong.” Though she spoke the words with dignity, Joseph knew her well enough to see the bruised feelings hiding under the declaration. She turned away. “It seems the Irish really do lose every battle in this town.”
Again his well-intentioned actions were being construed as taking sides.
“Et tu, Katie?” he muttered.
The reference clearly confused her. He didn’t explain. If she were in the mood to accuse him of turning on her, nothing he said would likely convince her otherwise
He paced away. He’d passed a hard twenty-four hours, watching his closest friend hover near death, being plagued by questions of what came next and how bad things would become, wondering what he could possibly do. Behind all of it was the very real truth that he would once again endure barbed comments and thinly veiled accusations from both sides of the feud.
Even Katie was questioning his loyalties. She had always seemed like the only one who truly understood his desire to stay out of it all. She too had worked to distance herself from the feuding, though, in the end, her nationality had pulled her into the fray.
Weariness dragged at him. How many times had he pulled the town back from the brink of self-destruction? He’d saved them from themselves by keeping himself apart from them all. What was his reward for that? What did he get for his sacrifice?
Loneliness. Deep, unending loneliness.
“I’ll drop you off at Mrs. Claire’s in the morning when I take the girls to the Scotts’ house for the day. Have your things
packed. We’ll leave after breakfast.”
He didn’t look back at her or wait for a response. She’d either be hurt by his dismissal or thunderous. In that moment, he couldn’t bear to see either one.
Chapter Four
Tavish dropped an armful of firewood into the basket near the fireplace. ’Twas ten in the morning already, and he hadn’t yet been out to Ian’s fields. Between the chores at his own place and those he’d taken on at his brother’s, he’d worked without a moment’s pause since well before sunrise.
He pulled his hat from his head and wiped at the sweat trickling along his hairline. His gaze wandered toward Ian’s room. Biddy said there’d been no change overnight, that Ian stirred now and then, even made the occasional sound, but never truly woke. Tavish had managed an encouraging word for her, but his own hopes were flagging.
He crossed to the bedroom doorway and pulled back the quilt. Biddy looked up from her position beside the bed.
“How is he?” Tavish asked.
Her gaze returned to her husband. The worry in her face answered his question. “If only he’d open his eyes and look at me, or squeeze my hand. Anything. He feels so far away.”
“Ignoring you, is he? Seems to me you’ve a right lazy bum of a husband.” Striking a laughing tone was painfully difficult. He wanted to rage at the injustice of it all. He wanted to weep at seeing his brother so beaten. But Biddy needed someone to buoy her spirits, and there was no one but him to do it.
That role had always been his. Even as a child on the boat from Ireland, with his heart breaking for his lost home and the beloved grandparents they’d left behind, he had been charged with bringing smiles and laughter to his family. No one else could manage it, and they were in desperate need of cheering. Though smiling through troubles didn’t always come easily, he’d found strength in it.
“You know, Biddy, when Ian was just a boy, Da would bribe him with butter candy. Perhaps you ought to give that a go.”
She gave him a small smile. “I’ve already tried offering him sweet rolls and barm brack.”
“He didn’t awaken for barm brack? Now that is a stubborn man, that is.”
Biddy adjusted Ian’s blankets. “I even offered to milk the cow every day from now on if only he’d wake up.”
Tavish leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely over his chest. “Not having to milk the cow—any man would jump at that opportunity. Perhaps if you also promise to muck out the stalls, he’ll quit being so headstrong and just get up.”
Biddy took Ian’s limp hand in hers. “I love you, dearest.” She kissed his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “But I’m not mucking out your stalls.”
Tavish smiled in relief. Hearing even a tiny bit of humor from Biddy put his heart at ease.
“How long until you need to feed him again?” he asked her. Biddy couldn’t hold Ian up and dribble broth down his throat without help.
“About an hour.”
He could see to a few more chores before then. “I’ll come back.”
He looked once more at Ian, hoping to see something encouraging. The swelling had, perhaps, gone down a bit. He lay peacefully; no look of pain marred his features. Tavish supposed that was something. But Ian hadn’t spoken or even shown the slightest sign of awareness in nearly forty-eight hours. That made optimism a bit hard to come by.
“If you need anything, I’ll be out in the barn mucking out the stalls.”
Biddy nodded as she smoothed Ian’s blanket.
Tavish slipped from the room, crossing to the front door. Something had to change for the better with Ian, or they’d all lose hope.
The front door squeaked as he opened it. The hinges didn’t look rusted, but a bit of grease would do them good. Tavish added that to the list in his mind. He’d have his brother’s house in as fine shape as he could get it. If he awoke—Tavish hated that he thought of Ian’s recovery in terms of “if”—he’d need his strength for recovering from his injuries, not tending to his home.
He stepped out beneath the front overhang and saw his Sweet Katie sitting on the step. Her back was to him, knees pulled up close, her arms wrapped around her legs.
“This is a fine surprise,” he said, pushing all thoughts of hinges and repairs out of his mind. “Did Joseph give you the day off again to come help Biddy?”
She shook her head without speaking a word.
“You’ve slipped off, then? It’s not like you to skip out on your work.”
In a tiny voice, she answered, “I’ve been fired.”
For a moment the words made no sense. “Joseph fired you?” He stepped closer to her.
“He let me go, which amounts to the same thing, really. I’ve been sent off from a job, something that’s never happened to me once in all my life.” Katie leaned her chin on her knees. She looked so terribly small and vulnerable sitting there.
Tavish sat on the step beside her. “Did Joseph say why he let you go?”
“So the Red Road won’t be angry about me living there. And because if I stayed I might not be safe.” She turned her head enough to look over at him. No tears hung in her eyes, but plenty of hurt hovered there. “I understand the whys of it, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”
Poor Katie. Troubles did seem to stack on top of one another. He’d have to do what he could to lift her spirits. It would be a pleasure, really.
“Granny Claire let you in the door, I’m assuming.”
Katie smiled at him. His entire world lit up whenever she smiled, however small and quivery the attempt.
“Aye. She let me in. So I’ve a place to live and bread to sell and, all things considered, am in a fine situation.” She sat up a bit, but her shoulders slumped. “I’m only discouraged is all, and so very tired.”
Tavish wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. She leaned her head on his shoulder, though her arms remained crossed over her knees. They’d grown close over the past weeks. She’d shared a great deal of her thoughts and worries with him, yet she still felt distant at times, as though she still held something back.
He wished he could promise her that all would be well, that Ian would recover, that the feud would resolve itself peacefully, that she’d have the money she needed. He couldn’t, but neither would he speak of heavy things when she was already weighed down. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “You smell like flowers, love. And you feel like heaven.”
The tiniest of laughs answered. “You always do manage to think of honeyed words, don’t you?”
“And what if I further said that, if we have a céilí this Saturday, I’d like for you to be my particular companion for the evening?”
She pulled away enough to look up at him fully. “If we have a céilí? There is always a céilí.”
He motioned with his head back toward the house. “With all that’s happened, I can’t say anyone will feel much like holding a party.”
“So the Red Road’ll take that from us as well?” She pushed out an audible breath. “I hate that the Irish are always the ones who lose in this feud.”
He took her hand in his. Hers were hardworking hands, roughened with years of labor, but tiny and gentle all the same. “I, for one, am feeling more optimistic all the time.”
He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm.
She blushed red as a strawberry.
“Keep doing that, Tavish O’Connor, and I’ll begin to suspect you fancy me.”
He loved when she teased him back. The first few weeks he’d known her, she had been far too serious. “What do I need to do to get you from ‘suspecting’ to ‘believing’?”
“You could lend me a hammer and nails.”
He laughed right out loud at the unexpected request. Her smile grew to a grin, sending his heart into a racing rhythm. He’d made progress in his courtship, quite a bit, in fact, but Katie was not one to be quickly won over. Slow and steady was the only approach that would work.
“And what do you need the hammer an
d nails for, Sweet Katie?”
“There’re a few things in my new room at Granny Claire’s that need mending.”
“Tavish!”
He jumped at Biddy’s sudden voice. She peeked out the door, her face frantic.
“I need your help. Please.”
He sprang to his feet. “Ian,” he whispered, his heart dropping to his toes.
With Katie at his side, he rushed into the house, fearing the worst.
Chapter Five
Katie followed close on Tavish’s heels, hoping desperately that they’d find Ian on the mend rather than worse off.
“He’s thrashing about.” Biddy walked and spoke swiftly, a frantic edge to her voice. “He’s too big. I can’t hold him still, but I don’t want him hurting himself.”
Did more movement mean Ian was improving? Or was this even more reason to worry?
Ian was, indeed, moving about, enough to warrant concern. He might injure himself further. Tavish took up position at the side of the bed, holding his brother down by both arms. Katie, taking her cue from him, set her hands on Ian’s ankles, hidden beneath the blanket. She didn’t hold them so tightly he couldn’t move, but with enough force to keep him from kicking anyone.
“Ian.” Tavish spoke sharply. “Settle yourself down, man.”
“He’s in pain.” Biddy’s heartbreak sounded in each word. “I don’t know how to help him.”
Ian’s expression remained anguished, though he seemed to settle a bit.
“Have you any powders?” Tavish asked.
Ian’s head jerked from side to side again, eyes pulled tight, mouth drawn.
Biddy shook her head. “Your da went into town this morning and meant to bring some back, but he’s not come by yet.”
Ian quieted a little, just as he had a moment earlier. Indeed, he settled a bit every time Biddy spoke.
Hope Springs (Longing for Home - book 2, A Proper Romance) Page 3
