She felt the tiniest bit of relief.
Mr. Archibald gave Finbarr a long look before letting his gaze return to Katie. “Don’t bother coming to the mercantile tomorrow. You won’t be welcome.” He shot her a satisfied smile and slipped out of the doorway.
Katie let her shoulders drop. She set the hoe against the wall.
“Did he hurt you, Miss Macauley?” Finbarr asked, taking a single step inside the barn.
She shook her head. “He blew a great deal of smoke, but he didn’t hurt me.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Your face is bleeding.”
She touched the tender spot on her cheek where she’d hit the stall wall. Her fingers came up wet. In her fear she hadn’t noticed she’d cut herself. “I slipped,” she said.
“Mr. Archer will want to see that,” Finbarr said.
Katie shook her head. “It isn’t bad. I’d much rather get back to Mrs. Claire’s and forget this whole thing ever happened.” Fine words, those, but empty. She’d not be forgetting the fear any time soon.
She stepped out of the barn and once more into the biting wind.
“Can I walk you to Mrs. Claire’s house?” Finbarr asked.
“You needn’t do that.”
He walked at her side. “I know you don’t need me to, but Mr. Archer would wring my neck if he knew I didn’t after what you’ve been through.”
Finbarr swung the axe into the chopping block as they passed it. He explained almost sheepishly, “I wasn’t actually supposed to chop wood. I just thought Mr. Archibald might leave you alone if I stood there with an axe.”
“Did Joseph send you to rescue me, then?”
Finbarr secured the top button of his coat. “He’s out repairing a fence and sent me in for some wire. I saw Mr. Archibald follow you into the barn. I assumed he was up to no good.”
“Apparently you know him well.” Katie tucked her hands under her shawl. The day was growing colder instead of warmer.
“I know the feud well,” Finbarr corrected. “It makes people vicious.”
“’Tis a full-on shame the town can’t put this hatred behind them.”
Finbarr nodded. “Part of me is convinced someone will have to die before they do.”
Katie opened her mouth to argue against such a drastic prediction, but the words wouldn’t come. Suddenly part of her was equally certain, and the realization frightened her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sudden drop in temperature sent Tavish to Granny’s house to split logs. The night would likely be a cold one, and he didn’t want them to find themselves out of firewood. The pile of wood behind the house was alarmingly low. Everyone’s firewood supply was dwindling. The annual pre-winter wood run would have to be scheduled soon. Very few trees grew in Hope Springs—they had to go out and cut as much wood as a few wagons would hold to see them through the cold months to come. Depending on how bitter the winter grew, they sometimes went out again with sleds. But the forest was far away, more than a day’s drive. ’Twas a dangerous thing to be out in the winter, given the unpredictable nature of Wyoming weather.
He carried an armload of wood inside, speaking to Granny as he made his way through the kitchen. “Let Katie know that I can cut more in the morning if you’ve run out.”
“Tell her your own self, Tavish.”
Sure enough, Katie stood near Granny, tucking a quilt about the dear old woman’s legs. She must have arrived home while he was out chopping.
“You’re back early,” he said.
“I told Mr. Johnson that Granny was ailing, and he gave me the rest of the day to look after her.”
Tavish could hardly have been more surprised if Katie had said Mr. Johnson had offered to lower the Irish prices to match the Red Road’s.
“That is unexpectedly human of him, all things considered.” He laid his armful of wood in the basket near the fireplace and set himself to the task of lighting a fire.
“I’ll say this for Mr. Johnson,” Katie said, “he has proven himself less of a monster than I at first feared him to be.”
Tavish had seen and heard for himself the unkindness Mr. Johnson heaped on Katie, yet she had kind words for the man?
“I’m not saying he’s a saint, so you can both quit looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.” Katie offered a tiny, fleeting smile.
“Leave it to our Katie to work a miracle with one of the meanest men in town.” Granny smiled, patting Katie’s cheek. “Before long you’ll have him walking up and down this road just friendly as can be with all of us.”
Katie shook her head. “No one could manage that. I think we’d all agree the Reds staying on their side of the river would be best.”
She had never been one to truly advocate for the separation in town. What had brought that comment on?
“Can you get along without me for a bit?” she asked Granny. “I’d like to change into some warm stockings and take a moment for myself.”
“Of course, child.”
Tavish took her hand as she passed. She stopped and looked back at him. He hadn’t noticed until just then, but Katie was pale, her features drawn and tense. And, more concerning yet, she had a cut just below one eye.
“What happened? You’ve a cut on your face.”
“I slipped on my walk home. It hardly hurts anymore,” she insisted. “I need a moment to myself is all. I’ll be grand in a bit.”
He studied her expression and the stiff set of her shoulders. Something was worrying Katie, there was no denying it. He’d give her a moment, but once he had the fire set, he meant to do what he could to coax a smile or a laugh from her.
She slipped down the small corridor. An instant later, he heard the sound of her door closing.
“Our Katie keeps things tucked inside,” Granny observed in her usual sage way.
“Aye, that she does.”
He had the kindling laid and the beginnings of a flame started when the first strains of an air played expertly on a fiddle floated out of Katie’s room. He stopped a moment and simply listened. No one could pull music from a fiddle quite like she could.
“She plays every day,” Granny said. “Sometimes more than once. Always when she first returns from the mercantile, and often at night before we go to bed.”
“That is a fine treat for the both of you.” Tavish thought about his own quiet and lonely evenings and felt more than a twinge of envy.
“And for the Archers,” Granny added.
“The Archers?” He hadn’t expected that.
“Aye. Joseph comes by regularly with his wee ones to visit. Katie always plays for them so the girls can dance and sing.”
“How often are they here?”
“Three or four times a week.”
Three or four times a week? That was more often than he was there. Where in the world did Joseph find the time? “I suppose if I had a hired hand and a housekeeper, I could spend my evenings visiting as well.”
“Oh, pish.” Granny looked on the verge of rolling her eyes at him. “If you wanted to come more often, you’d find a moment here or there.”
“I am not neglecting her, Granny.” He set a log on the fire, watching to make certain the flames took. “I have been running Ian’s farm as well as my own. I was off making my deliveries. Every free minute I have goes to building a room onto my house. A room for her.”
“And is that what she wants most from you, lad? A room?”
He added another log. “She’s spoken of wishing for a room to herself all these years.”
“But is it what she wants most? That’s the question you ought to be asking yourself.”
The fire was burning small and steady. Tavish stood and took a step back. “What does Katie want most?” he asked quietly. “She is not an easy one to understand.”
“And I’d wager you are entirely unaccustomed to difficulty in courting.”
“Difficulty?” He shot Granny an amused grin. Surely she was teasing him. “We’re moving slowly, I
suppose, but things aren’t falling to ruin between the two of us.”
Granny rocked back and forth, her gaze narrowed on him. “I remember your courtship with Bridget. At this point in your acquaintance, the two of you were driving the lot of us out of our minds with all the sweetness and loving between you.”
Granny was near about the only person he could ever bear to discuss Bridget with. So much regret and sadness still clung to his memories of his young sweetheart. He’d put that behind him, he often reminded himself, but that didn’t mean he wished to talk about her.
The plaintive air echoing from Katie’s room gave way to another. She was choosing slow, sad tunes. Did that mean she was upset, or was it simply what came to mind?
“Perhaps I ought to go talk to Katie.” He spoke the thought out loud, but before he’d taken one step in the direction of Katie’s room, a knock sounded on the front door.
Granny leaned around to look out the window. Whoever stood there was motioned inside. A moment later, Joseph Archer stepped across the threshold.
“Is Katie here?” The question wasn’t casual at all. Joseph actually looked concerned.
“She most certainly is,” Granny answered. “Has something happened?”
Joseph looked between the two of them. “She didn’t tell you?”
His tone had Tavish on edge. Something had happened, just as he’d suspected. He moved quickly down the corridor. Katie was keeping something from them, something Joseph was aware of and concerned about. “Katie?”
She opened her bedroom door. Her look was questioning, but she didn’t speak.
“Joseph Archer is here,” he said. “He seems to think there is reason to be concerned about you.”
Tavish watched her closely. Her color dropped off further. Her gaze shifted up the corridor.
“Finbarr must have told him,” she mumbled.
“Told him what?”
Katie walked uncertainly into the room where the others waited, Tavish close on her heels.
“Hello there, Joseph.” Her tone was hesitant.
Did she expect to be scolded? What in heaven’s name had happened? And why hadn’t she told him about it?
Joseph crossed the room, stopping directly in front of her. He slipped his hand under her chin, tipping her face so the small cut under her eye was more visible. He’d known about the cut.
“Does it hurt much?” Joseph asked.
She gave the tiniest shake of her head. “It looks worse than it is.”
Joseph kept her chin in his hand. “And he didn’t hurt you? You swear to me he didn’t lay a hand on you?”
“What?” Tavish blinked in surprise. Someone had hurt Katie? “Who?”
They both ignored him.
“He only followed me,” Katie said. “He near frightened the very life out of me, but he didn’t hurt me.”
“Katie Macauley, what is going on?” Someone had followed her around, scaring her? Why was he only just hearing about this, and from Joseph instead of from her?
Her attempt to remain unconcerned fell far short of believable. “Bob Archibald only wanted to be a troublemaker—”
“Bob Archibald?” Tavish’s stomach fell to his feet. His fists pulled tight.
Joseph lowered his hand from Katie’s face but didn’t step away. “Archibald followed her on the walk home. Finbarr saw him chase her into my barn and went in after him.”
Tavish would have to thank his brother the next time he saw him.
“Finbarr came in with an axe,” Katie added. “Very effective.”
“Why didn’t you come inside the house instead of the barn?”
“Because your gem of a housekeeper wouldn’t let me in.” Katie’s tone had lost some of its distress.
Joseph frowned. “Did you explain that you were being followed?”
“I wasn’t given the opportunity.”
Tavish jumped into the conversation he was quite thoroughly being left out of. “If you’re being followed, Katie, something has to—”
Another knock interrupted him.
Granny looked through the window. Her eyes grew wide. “Saints preserve us,” she muttered, and crossed herself.
“Who is it?” Tavish hadn’t seen her react that way to a visitor before.
“Jeremiah Johnson,” she whispered.
Johnson? On the Irish Road? What in heaven’s name was happening?
Katie took an audible breath. She looked almost ashen.
“I’ll talk to him,” Tavish said.
“No.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm, her eyes firmly fixed on the closed door. “He’s come to talk to me, I’m certain of it.”
“You have had a difficult day already,” he insisted.
“I’ve strength enough for this.” Katie stepped past him, nervous but determined.
“Katie—”
Joseph cut across his words. “I think she knows her own capabilities, Tavish.”
“This is none of your concern,” Tavish said.
“Oh, I think it is.”
“Hush, both of you,” Katie shot back over her shoulder.
She opened the door. Mr. Johnson stood on the other side, his hat in his hands. The man actually looked the slightest bit humble, something Tavish had never seen from Jeremiah Johnson in all the years he’d known him.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Johnson,” Katie said. “Have I neglected something at the mercantile?”
He shook his head. “I needed to talk to you.” Mr. Johnson’s gaze took in the others in the room. “In private, if that is permissible.”
Katie nodded silently and stepped out onto the porch.
“I don’t like this,” Tavish said. “She shouldn’t have to face him alone.”
“Katie is resilient,” Joseph insisted. “And Johnson won’t do anything when she’s on her own porch with several people within earshot.”
“Spoken like someone who hasn’t been on the receiving end of Johnson’s ire.”
Joseph looked unimpressed. “Johnson has been angry with me plenty of times. He can be nasty, but he’s not a fool.”
“I’d beg to differ.”
“Perhaps you didn’t notice, Tavish, but he came here not blowing steam out of his ears, but asking to speak to Katie, talking to her with more than a hint of civility.” Joseph’s calmness was maddening. “I’ve spoken with Katie many times of late about her interactions with her employer, and things between them have improved dramatically. There really is no reason for worry.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“But marching out there with fists flying will only make things worse,” Joseph said.
Tavish stepped directly up to the man, nearly nose to nose. “Who put you in charge of Katie’s welfare?”
Granny shushed them loudly. “I declare, the two of you are worse than a couple of tomcats fighting over a molly. If you’d stop your screeching for one minute I could open the window and listen in.”
Tavish didn’t look away from Joseph. The man didn’t look away from him, either. They’d never spoken their rivalry out loud, but Tavish knew it was well and truly there.
Cold air seeped inside in the next moment, as did Katie’s voice. Tavish glanced toward the window, now open the slightest bit.
“I’ve done good work for you, sir. You cannot deny that.”
“I’m not denying it,” Mr. Johnson said. “I have no complaint with your work; I simply don’t need you any longer. As I said, my son will soon be done with his deliveries for the season, and he can do the work that—”
“I’m not a simpleton, sir. Please don’t treat me like one.” She didn’t speak with anger. Her voice was calm.
Tavish stepped closer to the window, listening.
“Mr. Archibald told me in clear language that he meant to see to it you fired me. Seems he was successful.”
Archibald had managed to get her fired on top of everything else. Tavish reached for the doorknob. He’d give Johnson a piece of his mind.
Joseph Archer moved to lean against the door, preventing it from being opened.
“Joseph.” He kept his voice quiet so he’d not be heard through the open window. “Katie needs—”
“She is holding her own, Tavish. Let her keep at it.”
“You’re tossing her to the wolves?”
Joseph eyed him challengingly. “She is not out of her depth. Let her handle her own difficulty.”
Katie’s voice floated inside. “Mr. Archibald will spread his anger about—that’s his way—but I thought you a better man than that, Mr. Johnson.”
“I am letting you go because of what Bob said, but not because he said I should.”
“I don’t understand.”
How was Katie keeping her head in the face of all this? She’d summoned the courage to ask for a job in the first place from a man who’d declared he’d never hire Irish. Now she’d lost that position because of the Reds’ hatred. Still, her voice was calm and collected.
“I saw something in Bob Archibald’s eyes that worries me,” Mr. Johnson said. “It was more than anger toward y’all. There was pure hate there.”
“Hate you’ve decided to bow to,” Katie pointed out.
“No. Believe me, Miss Katie, it’s not that.”
Miss Katie? The man was actually speaking respectfully to an Irishwoman. What kind of miracle had Katie wrought?
“If you keep working at my place, he’ll only grow angrier,” Mr. Johnson said. “I can’t vouch for what he might do. I’m honestly worried for you should you continue in my employ.”
An anxiety Tavish hadn’t known in some time settled over him.
“Let me out, Joseph,” he whispered pointedly.
Joseph shook his head. “She’s getting through to him. Don’t interrupt now.”
He had a point, as much as Tavish didn’t want to admit it.
“If you disapprove of the things he does, Mr. Johnson, why don’t you tell him so?” Katie asked. “Why is it no one will stand up to him?”
“For likely the same reason none of y’all can talk sense into Seamus Kelly. The two of them can talk their way in and around and over near about anything.”
Mr. Johnson had the right of it. Tavish had no intention of telling him as much, though.
Hope Springs (Longing for Home - book 2, A Proper Romance) Page 22
