“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.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Katie’s bread deliveries were slow the next day, both on account of the snow lying thicker on the ground than before and her own weariness. But Tavish was walking with her as she made the deliveries, and his company made the outing more pleasant than it would have been otherwise. She held her now-empty bread basket against her hip with one hand and rubbed her neck with the other. Her whole body had ached all day.
“Have you a stiff neck, Sweet Katie?” Tavish asked. He held the basket that yet had a few loaves in it.
She twisted her head from side to side, though it hardly helped. “I had a little girl kicking me most of the night. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well.”
“And you didn’t push her right out of bed and onto the floor?” His smile added a laugh to the question.
Katie shoved him with her shoulder, shaking her head at his teasing. “A horrible thing to even suggest, you troublesome man. She was there first, although ’twas my own bed, and I’d be a selfish person indeed to toss a child out onto the cold ground. Of course, she fell asleep there first, so in that sense it was really her bed, at least for the one night.” She thought back over that quickly. “I confused my own self with that explanation.”
Tavish chuckled. “Perhaps if you’d had a decent night’s sleep, you’d be making a bit more sense.”
Who else could make her laugh even when she was utterly exhausted? She liked that about Tavish. How could any person not like that about him? ’Twas little wonder he had such an abundance of friends.
“You know,” Katie said, “if you’d come by last night like a decent sort of person, you might’ve carried the girls up to the loft when they drifted off, and I could have had my bed all to myself.”
“My fault, is it?” He grinned, not the least apologetic.
“Whether or not it was, I plan to blame you for it.”
He took the empty basket from her and set his basket inside it, tossing her a smile as he did. “Troublesome woman.”
Katie appreciated Tavish’s lighthearted banter; it kept her from focusing so fully on her worries over her neighbors and distracted her from the painful memories of yesterday’s fire. It didn’t truly relieve her troubles, but did offer her a momentary escape.
She looked out over the landscape, the trees touched with snow, the rooftops white as well. Soon enough she would need a sleigh to make her deliveries.
“I would guess one of these is for me.” Tavish held up a loaf of bread. “While the other one must be for Ciara.”
He and his sister were the only two people left on their route. “Sorted that out on your own, did you?”
“You can’t get anything past me,” he said. “Smart as a whip, I am.”
“How is your fancy new room coming along?” she asked. “It looked nearly finished when we walked past.”
“The outside is finished off, which is a very good thing considering the snows have arrived.” He shook his head in frustration. “But I have a great deal of work left inside. There are just so many things needing attention right now.”
“I know.” She felt overwhelmed thinking on all that had happened. “’Twas a hard day yesterday, as so many have been lately. A hard, hard day.”
He looked immediately contrite. “I should have come by to see how you were doing,” he said. “I should have. By the time I got Ian home and his animals seen to and then my own, it was late. I suspected you were likely asleep already.”
His reasoning was sound, and he had been helping his brother, who had been through so much, yet she still felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t come by.
But Joseph had, despite a long day and the late hour.
Aye, but his girls were there. He hadn’t a choice, really.
Good heavens, this is all so confusing.
If only she had some experience to draw on. Life hadn’t precisely given her ample opportunities to see what it meant to be loved or in love. If only she’d had a mother to explain those things to her when she was young.
They’d reached Ciara’s house, but neither turned up the path. Raised, angry voices pulled their attention toward the nearby bridge instead.
“What in heaven’s name is that?” Katie didn’t at all like the sound.
“Where’s the guard?” Tavish asked.
“Guard?”
He nodded. “The Reds and the Irish both posted guards at the head of their roads last evening.”
She hadn’t heard that. “Armed guards?”
“Aye.” He didn’t even look surprised.
“This has been done before?” How could the town live this way, always landing themselves in conflict—armed conflict?
“Only once.” He glanced at her, the laughter in his eyes gone. “It didn’t end well.”
Katie’s heart dropped clear to her boots. “What do you mean, exactly?”
He noticeably hesitated. Did he think he needed to protect her from some past unpleasantness, that she wasn’t equal to the weight of it? She was no wilting flower.
“Tavish.”
“No one died” was the extent of his explanation. He moved with determination toward the bridge. “Don’t dwell on it.”
“Tavish, wait.” She moved quickly to catch up with him. “‘No one died’ isn’t very reassuring.”
He gave her a quick smile. He nodded to the baskets in his hands. “I’ll get Ciara her bread, Katie. Why don’t you head back to Granny’s?”
“I mean to see what the trouble is,” she said, “same as you.”
“Katie.” There was his scolding face. He didn’t pull it out often, but she knew it when she saw it. “If the guards have left their posts, and the confrontation is loud enough to hear it from here, this is likely to get ugly.”
“I’ve seen ‘ugly’ before, Tavish.”
“Not like this—”
“Aye, because ‘no one died.’ You forget, Tavish, in my past, people did die.”
He shook his head. “I’m not marching you onto a battlefield, darling. You don’t need more unpleasant memories.”
“This town is ripping itself to pieces. The people here are my friends. If something isn’t done, my life here, a life I love despite all the difficulties, will be a memory.” She wasn’t about to be left behind when there was a problem of such importance to be solved.
“Katie.”
“I am stronger than you’re giving me credit for.” Hearing Joseph’s words tumble from her own mouth was something of a surprise. She’d been trying not to think of him while walking about with Tavish.
He looked a bit surprised at her words as well. She fancied she could see the debate tumbling about in his eyes. ’Twould be a kindness to simply make the decision for him.
“Off we go, then.” She marched directly past him, over the bridge and the river below with its chunks of ice and swirling darkness.
The gathered mob was easy to spot against the stark white snow covering every inch of the landscape. The scuffle—for it clearly was one—stretched out across the near end of town. Katie took a deep breath as she pressed forward.
Armed guard.
Likely to get ugly.
No one died.
But she was strong enough. She could face this.
Tavish kept shaking his head even as they walked toward the group gathered
on the road. “You really should go back home. This—”
“This town is my home now. I’ll not go hide in a corner while it falls apart.” She meant the remark to be one of determination, but it sounded far more like pleading. Not the best way to convince Tavish she was a pillar of strength. “You’ve a choice, Tavish. Either walk at my side as I face down the dragon, or do your best to keep up.”
He didn’t answer right off, but looked at her as though trying to sort her out. Before he spoke even a word, Seamus—Katie had learned to recognize his thick brogue and sharp words—shouted an unflattering assessment of someone’s parentage.
Tavish’s gaze flew in that direction.
Katie pressed ahead. Voices of reason, Joseph had called it the day before. The town needed someone to speak up for sanity and peace and reasonableness.
The shouting only grew louder as she approached. Their voices melded together in a head-splitting blend of insults and profanities. Fists were flying amongst the men. A few women were gathered about as well, hurling angry words at one another. It was a brawl if ever Katie had seen one.
She tried catching the attention of those she knew, pleading with them to stay calm. Her words did no good. Either they couldn’t hear her, or they refused to listen.
Katie took hold of Marykate Kelly’s arm, trying to pull her from a shoving match quickly escalating between herself and a woman of the Red Road.
“This is madness,” Katie insisted. “Brawling and fighting won’t solve our difficulties.”
Mrs. Kelly was too lost in her anger to even acknowledge Katie.
“Please, Mrs. Kelly.”
Katie was shoved aside with the growled instruction to “Keep out of it.”
She moved from person to person, pleading with them for calm. No one would listen. Their hatred made them deaf to reason.
This has to stop. But what could she do?
The sudden sound of shattering glass brought immediate and tense silence to the combatants. As one, they turned toward the mercantile.
One of Mr. Johnson’s front windows lay in mangled shards on the porch. The wind blew in through the opening, knocking over displays and goods.
Katie abandoned the brawlers and rushed toward the mercantile. “Mr. Johnson?” she called out, hoping no one had been nearby when the glass broke. Behind her the shouting and sounds of fighting only intensified.
“Mr. Johnson? Marianne? Thomas? Mrs. Johnson?”
She stepped inside the mercantile, glass crunching beneath her feet. A rock easily larger than her fist sat amongst the broken glass in the middle of the room. Mr. Johnson emerged from the storeroom with a broom in hand. The poor man looked pale, shocked.
This ridiculous, terrible feud. How far would they take it?
“I’ll fetch the other broom,” Katie said.
“No, Miss Katie.” Mr. Johnson stopped her with a raised hand. “The Reds will retaliate for this, no matter that I don’t intend to ask them to. And your own people might turn on you if you’re seen helping their enemy.”
“But I cannot leave you to address this alone, not when I can help.”
Katie had never seen Mr. Johnson look so utterly defeated. “You are too good for this town, Katie Macauley.”
There were moments when Katie could hardly believe this was the same man who’d belittled her so mercilessly when she first arrived in Hope Springs. That he, of all people, had changed as much as he had gave her hope for the rest of them.
“Let me help,” she offered again.
He shook his head. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I will worry less if you aren’t here in the thick of all this.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the sound of a tiny whimper caught her attention. A step toward the back corner revealed the source of the little voice.
“Sweet Marianne.” Katie knelt in front of the child. “Are you hurt?”
Marianne shook her head, but such fear filled her face.
“Were you in here when the window broke?” Katie asked.
The girl nodded.
Katie hugged Marianne close to her, aching for the fear the girl felt. She remembered all too clearly how overwhelming and frightening a place the world could be for a child. Marianne’s little arms clung to her.
“Let us get you back into the house, darling,” Katie said. “Your mother is there. She’ll keep you close and safe.”
She felt Marianne nod, though the girl didn’t move to stand.
“If I promise to walk between you and the windows, would that make you worry less?” Katie offered.
“Yes, please.”
Poor thing.
They made the slow trek across the shop. Mr. Johnson watched his little girl with a look of loving concern that Katie had longed to receive from her own father. She’d seen the same look on Joseph’s face when watching his daughters. If only the people in Hope Springs would take a moment to realize how alike they were, that their worries and concerns were truly the same, then perhaps they’d set aside some of their hatred.
Katie opened the door behind the shop counter, the one leading into the Johnson’s home.
“Mrs. Johnson?” she called out.
The woman came round the corner as fast as her quickly approaching delivery would allow. “Marianne. Good heavens, were you out there for that?”
Marianne rushed from Katie’s side into her mother’s waiting arms.
Content that the girl was now safe and cared for, Katie moved back toward the door.
“Thank you, Miss Katie,” Mrs. Johnson said.
Katie smiled and nodded her acknowledgment. She and the Johnsons were not precisely friends, but they were most certainly no longer enemies. She clung to that knowledge, telling herself the town might someday reach that place with one another.
She stepped past Mr. Johnson, eyeing the mess made by glass and wind, wishing he would have allowed her to help. Outside, the brawl had spread clear to the riverbank and all around the charred remains of the blacksmith shop. Tavish was trying to talk sense into the crowd, but his efforts were being met with fists and shoves.
She walked among the mob, feeling helpless and angry and exhausted. They would destroy each other if given half a chance. Nothing seemed capable of stopping them.
A scream rent the air and a shout of “gun!” Katie’s heart leaped to her throat, even as she half ducked, half hid behind one of the porch poles at the mercantile.
Sure enough, one of the combatants held a handgun, eyeing those around him with an almost crazed look. How had things come to this?
“Enough!” Joseph stood just outside the ring of angry townspeople, a hard expression on his face.
Katie wanted to call out to him, to warn him of the gun, but fear and worry silenced her.
“Put it away, Gregory.” Joseph addressed the man with the weapon as calmly as could be. “No one will be shot here today.”
His gaze took them all in. Katie had never seen him so cold. So unnervingly still.
“I told you the consequences of violence and unrest in the streets. You knew that this would cost you your homes, whether Irish or Red.” Another sweep of his steely gaze set the entire group back a step. “Either you didn’t care or you find the consequences worth the opportunity to fight like savages in your own town.”
“Joseph—” Damion MacCormack began a protest, but got no further than that one word.
“No mercy for the merciless, MacCormack,” Joseph answered. “No mercy.”
“You can’t take my home, Archer,” Mr. Archibald growled.
“I own your home, and you missed a payment.” Joseph’s eyes darted between them all. “You have all forfeited your claims on my sympathies. I will have full payments by day’s end from each and every one of you,” he snapped. “Failure to do so will result in evictions. Am I understood?”
Utter silence fell over the crowd.
Joseph turned his back and walked with quick and determined steps up the road.
&nb
sp; Katie knew all too well the fear she saw in the faces around her. They had lost their homes. With snow thick on the ground. With no place of refuge within two days’ drive.
This couldn’t happen. The children would suffer for it. So many people would be in desperate straits.
Katie abandoned her place behind the mercantile post and hurried after Joseph. Tavish emerged from the chaos and caught up to her. She didn’t acknowledge him. She had to stop this. People would freeze and starve and suffer.
“You can’t do this, Joseph.” She followed close on his heels, Tavish close on hers.
“They knew the consequences of this.” He didn’t look back at her.
Was this the same man whom she’d found just that morning sleeping with a five-year-old girl sprawled across his chest? The same man who’d listened so tenderly to her sob through her worries the night before?
He seemed so cold and uncaring. With bruised faces and bleeding noses, the townspeople, who had only moments before been beating each other without restraint, were making their way from town as well. Looks of accusation joined muttered words of contempt. Even facing the loss of their homes, they couldn’t set aside their anger.
“Joseph.”
“If they wanted to stay in Hope Springs,” he said, still marching away with no hint of hesitation, “they should have left the guns at home. They should have stayed there themselves.”
“They’re frightened.” She picked up her pace enough to step in front of him. “They know half the town hates them—that just across the way are people with guns. Guns, Joseph.”
He stood with his hat in one hand, arms at his sides. He’d adopted that exact posture the first day she met him. ’Twas his “I won’t be swayed” posture.
“I am sorry the Irish will be impacted by this—”
“I wasn’t speaking only of the Irish. Every person here today was afraid. Every person here was hated by half the other people. All of them.”
He looked at her for the first time since she’d stepped around him. “You weren’t arguing for your countrymen alone?”
“I cannot believe you would think that of me.” She was so angry, she wanted to scream.
Hope Springs (Longing for Home - book 2, A Proper Romance) Page 27
