“The ‘Giant’s Causeway’?”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve heard of it?”
He nodded. “But I never got to see it either.”
“You should dig your tunnel to there, Tavish. We could have our Irish Day at the Giant’s Causeway.”
“Our Irish—?” His deliveries and building project had pushed that idea clear out of his thoughts. “I’d forgotten. We do need to do that.”
“I thought it might have slipped your mind—along with your promise to show me the ‘finest view in all of Hope Springs.’”
He’d forgotten that as well. It’d been weeks and weeks since he’d told her about his favorite spot in the valley. He never had taken her there.
“You could come around just for a bit of gab, you know,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be a fancy, planned-out sort of day.”
“I do need to come by more. Or”—another idea jumped into his mind—“you should stop by and see what I’m building. We could make a picnic of it.”
“In this weather?” She shook her head as though it were the most nonsensical thing she’d ever heard. “We’d fair freeze to death.”
“An indoor picnic, then.”
“That would be nice.” She threaded her arm through his. “I’ve not seen much of you, and I . . . I need to have some time with you, Tavish. That likely sounds very, I don’t know, silly or—”
Tavish squeezed her arm with his. “Not silly at all. What kind of courtship is this if we never see each other?”
She didn’t react to the word “courtship.” He didn’t know what to make of that.
Raised voices up ahead interrupted his pondering. In the length of a single breath, Tavish knew precisely what was happening. Damion MacCormack and Bob Archibald were standing nearly nose to nose on the road, shouting at one another.
“Tavish, the children.”
Of course, that had to be the first priority. “Michael,” he called out, getting the boy’s attention quickly. “Take your cousins home without delay. You hear me?”
Michael took charge immediately. He was a boy much like Finbarr, mature beyond his age. He could be counted on to see through any task he was given.
Katie had already slipped from Tavish’s side, guiding the other Irish around the coming scuffle, offering encouraging smiles to the children.
Tavish knew he couldn’t reason with Archibald. No one could, not even the others on the Red Road. The man’s temper was beyond legendary. But Damion could sometimes be talked down. He strode to where they were growling and glaring and spitting words at one another.
“This is hardly the time or place.”
“Stand off, Tavish,” Damion warned. “I’ve reason enough to settle this now.”
“True though that may be, it can wait.”
“Isn’t that just like a Paddy,” Archibald sneered. “You take his side because his blood is green like yours.”
Tavish shot him a look of warning. “Keep running your mouth like that and you’ll find out just what color your own blood is, Archibald.”
“Is that a threat?” He ground the words out through his teeth.
Tavish took a breath to keep himself calm. “No. It’s a reminder that brawling in the street isn’t going to solve anything. And there are children about.” He looked at both of them. “Are you willing to risk their well-being so you can feel like big men, throwing your fists to prove something?”
Archibald shoved him hard in the chest. Though Tavish was more solidly built, the attack caught him off guard. He stumbled back a single step before regaining his balance.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Tavish warned in a low, deliberate voice.
“Do you intend to fight back?” Archibald seemed amused by the thought.
Tavish shook his head. “But I’m not going to stop him”—he motioned at Damion with his head—“from having at you. Perhaps you didn’t know he was a prizefighter in Galway.”
For the first time, Archibald looked less certain of himself. Tavish glanced about. The children had all been herded down their respective roads. No one was near enough to be hurt except the two men who’d brought it on themselves. It might even break some of the tension hanging over the town to let a couple combatants go at each other to their hearts’ content.
Katie stood near the bridge, watching him and waiting. He gave her a quick wave to assure her he’d be there in a moment.
To Damion he said, in a voice loud and clear enough for Archibald to understand, “Just don’t kill him.”
He didn’t look back as he walked to where Katie stood. He knew the sounds of a scuffle when he heard them. The men hadn’t wasted any time.
“You didn’t stop them?” Katie asked, surprise and concern in her tone.
“When two people are that determined to lay into each other, sometimes the only thing to be done is delay them until there’s no one else about to get caught in the brawl.”
Her worried gaze remained on the road behind them. “Fighting can’t be the answer. People only get hurt that way.”
She’d not been in Hope Springs long enough to truly understand. “The tension’s been thick since before the harvest run. This will release some of that.”
“This is brutality.”
He followed her gaze. The men were, indeed, beating each other good. Tavish turned her face away with the lightest pressure of his hand. “Watching it isn’t going to help, sweetheart.”
“But pretending it’s not there doesn’t make it go away.” Clearly the situation upset her more than he’d expected it to.
“They’d have been fighting eventually. I’ve seen it often enough. It’s either the two of them looking like fools on an empty road, or dozens of people slugging it out with no regard for the welfare of anyone who might be nearby.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “I know it isn’t pleasant, but it is what it is.”
“You’ve given up, then?”
“Not given up. I’m only hoping to keep the town from actually killing each other while we search for some kind of real solution.” He tried to coax a smile from her, but it didn’t work. “Come on. I know you’ve bread to make today.”
She nodded and went with him, but her eyes remained clouded.
“I suppose Hope Springs isn’t quite the paradise you hoped it would be,” he said.
In a voice quiet and heavy, she answered, “Nothing is quite what I expected it to be.”
Though she walked at his side, her hand in his, Tavish could feel a distance between them. Was she pulling away from him personally, or simply reacting to the anger and hatred she’d seen on the road? He couldn’t be sure either way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joseph was about a breath away from consigning all of Hope Springs to perdition and letting them happily take themselves there. Though the ranch owners out at the farthest reaches of both the roads were a rough and often argumentative group, he’d reached the point where he far preferred their company to any of his nearer neighbors.
Almost every day that week he’d had a new report of one side or the other causing problems. Eggs had been stolen. Animals were being let out at night, leading to creative methods of locking barns or rigging pans to the doors so they would clang about should anyone try to break in. Hay had disappeared. Equipment had as well.
Bob Archibald and Damion MacCormack had spent much of an afternoon a few days earlier fighting on the road to town. Chester Smith and Eoin O’Donaghue undertook the same task, but along the banks of the river. No one was quite certain where Gerald Jones and Seamus Kelly had held their boxing match, but they looked every bit as bad as the others.
They were stealing from each other, pounding one another into a pulp, and generally doing their utmost to make life for their neighbors as miserable as possible. Their animosity increased day by day. The likelihood of widespread violence continued to grow. At some point, Joseph realized with frustrated resignation, he would have to once again threaten them into a
cease-fire.
He’d seldom felt less like going to church than he did that Sunday morning. In the past, the Sunday after the final harvest had been a favorite. His mind was clear of work for once. But that day going to church felt like another chore.
“Are you ready to go, girls?” he asked, stepping into the parlor as he straightened his lapels.
Mrs. Smith finished tying a white ribbon on one of Emma’s long braids. The woman gave him a single quick nod, a gesture he’d come to recognize as her most common. It meant everything from agreement to reprimand to acknowledgment of an assignment. She didn’t say much. What she did say tended to be a touch too blunt. He almost preferred her silence.
“Come along.” He motioned the girls toward the dining room.
They passed through it to the kitchen and out the back door. Mrs. Smith followed along in their wake. He helped the girls onto the back bench of the buggy. Mrs. Smith preferred to sit up front. That had taken some getting used to, as the girls had grown accustomed to sitting beside him. Still, it kept the peace, which was all he wanted.
The drive to church was a quiet one. Ivy didn’t chatter away, and Emma’s usual silence felt quieter somehow. Had the tension in Hope Springs settled on his girls as well?
Inside the church building the townspeople sat like statues. Backs were ramrod straight. Eyes remained firmly ahead. Both sides refused to acknowledge the other. Though Joseph could see nothing but the backs of their heads from his place in the rear of the room, their postures were unmistakable. Anger and distrust and pride rippled through the entire congregation. Even his own girls looked somber and withdrawn.
Joseph slumped a little on the bench, tired to his core. If everyone would simply try to get along, life would be far easier for all of them. He was sick of the whole town at that moment.
Every one of them except Katie. He’d taken the girls to visit her again the night before. The feud had come up in conversation. Though he hadn’t said anything, Katie seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk about it. She quickly changed the topic—he didn’t even remember what to—and they spent the rest of the night on light subjects. She played her violin. The girls danced. Ivy even sang a song Katie had taught her. He’d had to force himself to leave without begging her to come home with them.
He’d gone home alone, put the girls to bed alone.
“Stop fidgeting, children.” Mrs. Smith spoke without even looking at the girls. Her eyes remained properly straight ahead where Reverend Ford was seated near the pulpit reading in his Bible.
Joseph didn’t think the girls were moving all that much. A shift in weight now and then, but considering their ages, that was admirable. They stilled their small movements and sat very properly on the bench.
Reverend Ford rose to begin the service. If he noticed the undercurrents of battle in the air, he didn’t let on. His words of welcome didn’t differ in the slightest from the ones he usually spoke. The congregation muttered the morning hymn more than sang it.
The preacher got no further than “The topic of today’s sermon is taken from—” before he was interrupted.
Bob Archibald—Joseph would recognize his acerbic tones anywhere—called out, “You should preach about not stealing another man’s animals.”
Reverend Ford’s face froze, his eyes darting about as if searching for an explanation for the interruption.
“Only if you Reds’ll listen,” someone on the Irish side called back.
Are they planning to fight inside the church now?
“This is hardly the place,” Reverend Ford insisted.
Bob Archibald was on his feet. “The church is just the place to tell these heathens they can’t get away with wringing my rooster’s neck.”
One of Archibald’s animals was killed? Joseph hadn’t heard that.
“I know it was one of you.” Archibald pointed a finger at the other side of the room. “I found the poor animal dead at the door of my barn this morning.” He glared at the Irish. “Don’t think this won’t go unanswered.”
Damion MacCormack jumped to his feet. “Then maybe you’d care to answer for my calf. ’Twas let out of the barn the week of the harvest run, and we’ve not found it yet. That needs answering.”
Shouts became general. Accusations flew across the room like cannon shot. Men had each other by the collars, shaking and shouting. The women yelled and pointed and glared. Even their children joined in the growing anarchy.
Joseph glanced at his little ones. Ivy clasped her hands over her ears, a look of misery on her face. Emma’s chin began to quiver, her eyes wide with fear. This was the utopia he’d left Baltimore for, the peaceful, happy place he’d wanted to raise his children, the community Katie had given up her dreams of Ireland to be part of?
Little Marianne Johnson rushed down the aisle to the centered back bench where Joseph and his family sat. The pleading in her expression was clear. She wished to escape the shouting and anger. Joseph nodded, and she climbed up on the bench next to Emma. The two girls held each other’s hands, watching the battle playing out in front of them with growing worry and anguish.
Perhaps Katie was the wisest of all of them, choosing not to attend services. She’d denounced the entire thing as hypocritical her very first week in town.
These were good people when they weren’t fighting. If they’d just calm down, let their tempers cool, this difficulty might pass and quit frightening their own children.
Someone—Joseph couldn’t see exactly who through all the chaos—shoved someone else, and he knew the time for sitting back had passed.
He set two fingers in his mouth and blew. An ear-splitting, shrill whistle ricocheted mercilessly around the room. All eyes turned toward him. He slowly rose, looking them in the eye one by one. He walked with deliberate steps up the center aisle. The crowd of combatants parted, most dropping their gaze the moment he captured it. Perhaps they could still be convinced to step back—not reasoned with, necessarily, but momentarily appeased.
He nodded to Reverend Ford when he reached the spot just in front of the pulpit. The slightest nod of the reverend’s head seemed to indicate permission to usurp command of the service for a moment.
“Sit down.” Joseph addressed the group in a voice that was not so much calm as it was thick with vexation. They obeyed, though many did so reluctantly. “Is this what you’ve come to? Brawling in a church? Dragging your little children into your own blinding hatred?”
A few people had the decency to look shamefaced.
“I have never made myself an enemy to any of you, never taken sides.” He locked eyes with anyone willing to keep their gaze off the floor. “All of you know how I feel about your determination to destroy each other. If you keep things relatively peaceful, I stay out of it. But we’ve seen fistfights at school, on the road. We almost had one here a moment ago. Animals are being stolen, let loose and killed. This stops now.” He emphasized each word of his final sentence.
For a moment he simply stared them all down. They needed to see his disgust with the situation, his determination to end it.
“Prices were low at market, and many of you on both sides of this feud came to me asking for time, for consideration, for mercy in your land payments. I didn’t call in those debts, though the terms of your notes allow me to.” More eyes dropped. More faces fell in humility. “But if you aren’t willing to give each other consideration and mercy, then neither am I.”
Suddenly he had the full attention of every adult in the room. Most of these families—nearly all of them, in fact—hadn’t been in a position to make a full payment on their land. If he called in their notes, they would be forced from their homes.
Please don’t let it come to that.
“So long as you keep the peace between each other, nothing will change. But start this up again, start brawling and stealing from and destroying each other, and I will call in every single debt owed to me in this town.”
He hated that the only way to get through to
his neighbors was to make them fear him. He wanted friends, associates with whom he could laugh and spend an evening of amiable conversation. Instead, he’d forced himself into isolation by the necessity of his threats.
“I don’t want to have to do this,” he assured them.
Thomas Dempsey called back, “We don’t want you to have to either, Joseph Archer.”
He could smile the tiniest bit at that. Leave it to one of the O’Connors, even an in-law, to break some of the tension.
“So keep quiet and peaceable,” Joseph said. “And let the reverend deliver his sermon without interruption.”
As he walked back to his seat in silence, his eyes caught Emma’s. She looked at him as if she hardly knew him, as if he frightened her.
They’ve turned my own child against me.
He hadn’t the heart to sit beside her and feel that condemnation. Rather than take his seat, he instead slipped out the back door. He leaned against the outside wall of the church building and closed his eyes. Would Emma look at him differently now? Would Ivy?
Would Katie? If anyone would understand, she would. He found some comfort in the belief that she wouldn’t condemn him outright.
Acting the part of the coldhearted man of business had cost him some associates over the years and come in the way of friendships. If it cost him Katie, he didn’t think he could bear it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mrs. Claire gave Katie a detailed report of all that had happened at church and how Joseph had threatened to evict the entire valley. She’d heard before that he’d had to use that leverage to keep the peace. She understood it, but she couldn’t like it. All she could think of was the time as a child when her landlord had decided to clear his land and had evicted families in the cruelest, most heartless way. How could Joseph even think of doing something like that? It did not at all sound like him.
She stewed over it all day. Joseph was a good man, she knew that for a fact. Surely if evictions proved necessary, he would show compassion.
Compassion or not, those families will still be out in the cold.
Hope Springs (Longing for Home - book 2, A Proper Romance) Page 20
