by Delia Parr
Emma managed to eat only a slice of bread spread thick with butter for dinner. She was too anxious to eat much, although Zachary Breckenwith seemed to be quite at ease. She was also too entertained by Anson Kirk’s antics as he attempted to gain favor with Mother Garrett to be distracted by food, although Mother Garrett ate even more than usual.
By 2:30 Emma was outside of the gate to the front yard, ready to begin her outing with Mr. Breckenwith. She was astride the same gentle mare from the livery she had ridden last fall, and she was well-dressed for a winter ride. Beneath her heavy wool cape, she wore an old pair of men’s trousers under the flannel skirt Aunt Frances had altered for the occasion. Thick leather gloves protected her hands, and a sturdy bonnet kept her head warm while she waited for Zachary to mount his horse. Fortunately, since the panther had been captured and posed no danger to her, she had no need to bring along the umbrella Mother Garrett had offered to her some days ago.
Once he was in the saddle, he nodded toward the hill that led down to Main Street. “We can ride through town, should you want to stop at any of the shops along the way, or we can skirt around the back of Hill House. Either way suits the destination I have in mind.”
She brightened, grateful for the opportunity to act on the idea that had been simmering in her mind ever since she had heard about the panther’s capture. “Actually, there is one stop I’d like to make first before you take me to this surprise of yours.”
He waved her to proceed. “Let’s get started, then.”
When she urged the mare toward the hill, he rode alongside her. “Is your stop a surprise, as well?”
She shrugged. “Not at all. Since I have both the time, the opportunity, and a suitable companion this afternoon, I thought we might stop at Gray’s Tavern.” Emma was prepared to match wits with the opportunistic Mr. Gray, but she had no idea how she was going to convince the man to stop showcasing the animal.
Zachary slowly let the air out of his lungs and shook his head, although he did not rein up. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d suspect you were merely curious and wanted to see the panther for yourself.”
“But you do know me well,” she offered with a smile.
“Indeed,” he grumbled. “Indeed.”
“And you’re still willing to accompany me?”
He cocked a brow, and the muscles along his jawline tensed. “As your lawyer, which I still am until I leave tomorrow, I have no other choice but to go along to protect you against yourself.”
“And as a man who would be my suitor?”
He grinned. “I look forward to the occasion.”
She grinned back.
He just might be the right man after all.
22
FIFTY YEARS AGO, Candlewood could boast only three struggling business establishments. All three lynchpins had survived the town’s transformation from a fledgling settlement into the thriving town it was today, but not all were faring equally well.
The General Store, owned and operated initially by Emma’s grandmother, now had its fifth owner, Mr. Atkins, a newcomer to town. Thomas Adams had purchased the blacksmith and livery some ten years ago to become only the second owner. Gray’s Tavern, however, was the only one of the three businesses to stay in family hands and the only one to be experiencing economic difficulties.
Following the construction of the Candlewood Canal and the subsequent growth of the town, the tavern’s role within the community had shifted significantly. An influx of travelers as well as easterners on holiday who arrived by canal vastly outnumbered the few traveling by coach. These folks demanded more, if not finer sleeping accommodations than the small tavern could offer. The Emerson Hotel, as well as a number of boardinghouses like Hill House, easily lured away their business.
Struggling to survive, Gray’s Tavern had become a haven for the hungry, thirsty men who worked in the factories nearby, many of whom were single and lived together in boardinghouses considered less reputable by other visitors. Consequently, the atmosphere in the tavern had changed into one considered unseemly for women and children.
Emma kept all of this in mind as she looked ahead and saw a number of shoppers lured out into the sunny afternoon to visit the numerous shops and businesses that lined the planked sidewalk on either side of Main Street. In the far distance, workmen were busy repairing shingled roofs on several of the factories that hugged the east side of the canal nearest the now-destroyed match factory. The sound of hammers hitting nails and saws chewing through wood was heavy here in the north end of town, as well, as friends and neighbors helped one another repair the homes damaged by fires carried to their roofs by the gusting winds that tragic night.
When Emma and Mr. Breckenwith rode past Banfield Lane, she reined up and pointed to her left. “Isn’t the Burke cottage down there?”
Zachary stopped his mount. “As a matter of fact, I believe it is.”
“I’d like to see it. Would you mind? I don’t want to go through it, obviously, but I would like to see the damage for myself.”
With a nod of his head, he urged her to turn down the lane and followed along behind her. “Having second thoughts about having the Burkes for an extended stay at Hill House?”
“No, but I’d feel better if I could see how extensive the damage is and to gauge for myself how long it might take for that damage to be repaired,” she explained as they passed a number of small homes that appeared to have sustained no damage at all. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been to the cottage for years.”
“It’s up ahead on your left. If you look carefully, you can see a portion of the charred roof just above that large oak tree.”
She looked up at the roof but waited until they reached the front of the small, rustic dwelling before commenting again. The shingles on the cottage had darkened with age to the color of burnt gingerbread, and the property was badly overgrown with vegetation, but there did not appear to be any other damage than to the roof and the garret below it. The walkway to the front door, however, was clear so that anyone coming here for tailoring work could reach the front door.
“The roof looks bad enough that the whole thing has to be replaced,” she noted.
“That’s what I understand.”
She turned in her saddle to face him. “You’ve heard talk?”
He shrugged. “A bit of gossip here and there.”
She cocked a brow.
He let out a sigh. “Word has it that the roof needs to be replaced, but no one has been willing to start work because they don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Mr. Burke’s infamous lawsuits.”
Emma groaned. “Please tell me Mr. Burke hasn’t filed more lawsuits.”
“He hasn’t filed them yet, but he’s got his usual lawyer in town making it plain that his client is prepared to file suits against the owner of the match factory, the town itself for not putting out the fire in a timely manner, and the three families who refused to keep the Burkes after the fire unless he receives a fair settlement, which is unlikely.”
“He must have spoken to his lawyer before he came to Hill House. He hasn’t seen him since,” she countered until she realized he could have met with his lawyer in her office without anyone else knowing he had a visitor. “Why do you think he won’t be able to collect a settlement?”
“The owner of the match factory had no insurance and left town a few days ago, penniless. The town is immune from lawsuits like this, and none of those families have either the ability or the obligation to pay Burke anything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?” she questioned, concerned that she might be added to Mr. Burke’s list—a development that could bring to light her current legal difficulties concerning ownership of Hill House.
“Because Mr. Burke has no legitimate grounds for a lawsuit and no hope of recovering a single coin. More important, I have it on good authority that Judge Cheshire has instructed the town clerk not to file any lawsuits on the matter from Mr. Burke or anyone els
e until the dust settles, so to speak. That won’t be for several months, by which time I’ll be back in Candlewood permanently and I’ll be able to look out for your interests, assuming I have the opportunity. You may have another lawyer by then,” he added with a bit of a grin.
Emma shook her head, turned her mount around, and headed back up the lane. “Sometimes I wonder if that man has any heart at all. He seems absolutely determined to turn everyone in town against him.”
They rode in silence until they reached the crossroads and turned left toward the tavern. When they were riding side-by-side again, she found Mr. Breckenwith studying her. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”
“No.”
She furrowed her brow. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
She rolled her eyes and tightened her hold on the reins. “Never mind,” she murmured, wondering if she might survive this prelude to courtship, let alone courtship itself.
Looking ahead, Emma saw the tent in the front yard of the tavern. The tent, however, was not a tent at all; rather, walls of canvas stretched between posts in four corners, with the top open to the elements. A flap of canvas covered a single opening that allowed folks inside.
She glanced at her companion and noted that his expression had hardened. “Progress hasn’t been kind to all,” she offered, thinking of how much Candlewood and its residents had changed since the construction of the canal as three men lined up outside the makeshift tent went inside together.
“In the end, most people profit one way or another,” he noted.
“Everett Gray has every right to pursue profit. I just think misusing an animal, even a wild one, is an obscene way to do it.”
“Granted, but not everyone would agree with you. To be fair, the panther is admittedly a curiosity in these parts. Most people have never seen one,” he suggested as they approached the tavern and drew to a halt.
She shivered with the memory of her close encounter with the panther. “That doesn’t give anyone the right to poke and prod the animal or give Mr. Gray the right to profit from the animal’s misery.”
He helped her to dismount and tethered the horses to a nearby post. “Appealing to the man’s sensitivities might not be very successful,” he cautioned when he returned to her. “I’ve already tried that. Do you have a specific approach in mind that you’ll use when you talk to him?” he asked, offering her his arm.
Emma accepted his arm and smiled, but she decided not to tell him about the small purse secreted in the pocket of her cape. “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. Before I see Mr. Gray, I’d like to see the panther for myself,” she suggested as the three men left the canvas structure and proceeded into the tavern itself.
He frowned. “I rather suspected you might.”
When they reached the entrance, there were no sounds coming from the animal. A young boy of ten or eleven, with more freckles than fair skin on his face, was standing there protecting a coin box sitting on top of a wooden crate, with a stack of long poles lying on the ground next to a small saw sitting at his feet.
Shivering, he wore a coat far too thin and threadbare for winter, and he had no hat to cover the unruly auburn curls on his head. He picked up the coin box and looked up at them. “Twenty-five cents to get inside. Ten cents for a pole. For another five cents, I can sharpen the pole real good.”
“Just the viewing fee. No poles,” Mr. Breckenwith replied.
When he reached into his pocket, Emma placed her hand on his arm. “Just a moment. Please.”
Once he dropped his hand away, she turned her attention to the boy. “Has business been good?”
He nodded, shuffling from one foot to the other. “Not so much right now, but once the factories let out at six, it’ll pick up again ’til about ten.”
“Will you be working outside until then?” she asked.
“I gotta. My pa can’t work. He got hurt in the explosion. My ma can’t work. She’s home takin’ care of him and my five brothers and sisters,” he offered, straightening his narrow shoulders. “I’m the oldest, so I’m doin’ what I can to help.”
With her heart heavy, Emma took a deep breath. “If I might ask, how much is Mr. Gray paying you?”
The boy shrugged. “He’s not payin’ me nothin’, but he said I get to keep whatever I can make by sharpening the poles. Are you gonna let me sharpen up one for you? I’m really good with the saw. My pa taught me.”
“What’s your name?” Emma asked.
“Charles. Charles Schmidt, ma’am.”
Emma smiled. “My name is Widow Garrett, and this is Mr. Breckenwith, my lawyer. I own Hill House. Do you know it?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t think so. We just moved here a month ago. We’re probably gonna have to move again, once Pa gets better.”
“How much have you made since you started?”
He grinned. “All told, thirty-five cents.”
She reached into her pocket to get her coin purse, counted out several coins, and handed them to him. “Here are three dollars, which is much more than you could expect to make in the next several days. You may keep them on one condition,” she cautioned as he set down the coin box and shoved the coins into his pocket. “You must leave here now. Your work for Mr. Gray is done for good.”
He glanced down at the coin box before grinning up at her again. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. But I still gotta charge you to see the panther.”
She chuckled and thought she heard her escort chuckle, as well. “Of course.”
While Charles waited for the coins, the boy’s smile suddenly drooped into a frown. “I gotta give the coin box back to Mr. Gray. He’s not gonna be happy about me leavin’, especially in the middle of the day.”
Zachary Breckenwith reached in front of Emma and handed the viewing fee to the boy, who quickly added it to the box. “I’ll see to it that Mr. Gray gets his coin box and tell him you had to leave,” he promised.
Charles hesitated for a moment before handing him the box. “You bein’ a lawyer and all, I guess that’d be okay,” he offered, looked at the entrance to the makeshift tent for a moment, and then up to Zachary Breckenwith. “You gonna stop Mr. Gray from lettin’ people hit the panther?”
“Yes, I believe we are.”
“Good,” the boy said softly before scampering off with his newfound wealth jingling in his pocket.
“Thank you,” Emma murmured.
Zachary cast a questioning look her way.
“For not interrupting me or trying to stop me.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You realize, of course, that Gray will probably have another boy here to replace young Charles in a matter of hours,” he cautioned.
“Not if I have my way,” she insisted and silently offered a prayer she might prevail as easily with Mr. Gray as she had with young Charles Schmidt.
23
THE MOMENT EMMA STEPPED ONTO the dirt floor inside the makeshift tent, she nearly gagged. The air was thick with the rancid stench of animal waste, blood, and the soul-wrenching smell of needless suffering and man’s capacity for cruelty and greed.
The chain attached to a stake in the center of the canvas room and the panther’s neck was so short the animal was virtually pinned to the ground. When she studied the animal that she had sighted in the back yard at Hill House only last week, her eyes filled with tears.
With its eyes closed, the panther lay very still, although muscles in its thin body twitched nervously. One of its hind legs lay at an unnatural angle. Caked with blood and fur, the chain was nearly embedded in the animal’s neck.
Overwhelmed by evidence of the brutality the animal had endured, she turned away. “I’ve seen enough,” she whispered and slipped past Zachary Breckenwith to go back outside.
He followed her, let the flap fall back into place, and stood beside her, still holding the box of coins. “I’m sorry. If I had had any idea of the condition of that poor
animal, I never would have agreed to let you—”
“I needed to see it,” she insisted and swiped at her tears. “Why didn’t someone stop this before now? Couldn’t Sheriff North do something? Anything?” she asked, looking up at him.
“What Gray is doing here isn’t illegal. Immoral, perhaps, but not illegal, which he quickly pointed out to me. To be fair, Sheriff North probably hasn’t even seen the animal. He’s still pretty busy,” Zachary said gently.
When he locked his gaze with hers, she saw the same glint of anger that was making her heart beat faster. Then his gaze softened. “I can’t be sure, but I doubt the animal will last much longer than another day or two.”
“Which is another day or two of needless suffering and abuse,” she countered as she glanced away and channeled her anger into determination. “I must see Mr. Gray.”
The coins in the box he held jingled as he shifted it from one hand to another. “So do I. In all truth, I’d much prefer to see Gray again by myself, if only to have the satisfaction of forcing him to destroy the animal immediately without worrying about offending you.”
She cocked her head. “Please. I’d like to try speaking with him first. If he won’t listen to me or I’m convinced I need your help, I’ll ask you.”
Reluctantly, Zachary handed her the coin box and deferred to her wishes. “I won’t stop you, but I’d really prefer that you didn’t go into that tavern. At least permit me to ask Gray to step outside where he won’t have an audience and he won’t feel obliged to dismiss your concerns in order to save face in front of his customers.”
She hesitated for a moment before acquiescing. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“If he becomes agitated and treats you with disrespect of any kind, I’m not going to wait for you to ask for my help,” he cautioned.
“Agreed.”
His eyes widened ever so slightly. “Agreed? Without an argument?”
