Patrick shushed her. “You’re not stupid for not wanting to be alone forever. Our bravery can only take us so far before we need others we can lean on.” He sighed into her hair as he thought. “I don’t understand why you didn’t say you were a widow.”
“Men have expectations of a widow that they don’t have for a single, unmarried woman.” Her voice was filled with rancor. “I only made that mistake once.”
His hold on her tightened at her shudder. “Why wait to tell me everything now? I would have helped you at any point.”
She flinched at the hurt she heard in his voice. “I thought, after I pushed you away in December, you would no longer care about me. That you’d have the sense to let a woman like me go.”
“Why not tell Samuel everything about my family? It would hurt you much less than the abuse of the past few months.”
“No matter what you think about me, Patrick, I couldn’t continue to harm you or your family. When he spoke with such joy about the distress he had caused your brothers-in-law, it sickened me. I realized I was the source of their pain.”
“Believe me, if he’d never forced you into such a bargain, he would have still created as much pain as he did that night in Missoula. He thrives on discord and when those around him are discontent.”
He pulled her against him, settling her until she leaned against his chest. “We’ll figure it all out, Fee. I promise.”
27
Clarissa sat at the kitchen table in her Missoula home, a cup of tea cooling while she read the mail. She smiled at Zylphia’s latest adventures at the opera, wincing as Zee described the fight between two of her suitors. Clarissa picked up Patrick’s letter next, her smile fading the more she read.
She rose, ignoring her tea, and moved to the front hall to don her winter jacket, hat, gloves and boots. Billy had gone to work with Gabriel this morning to spend time with him, and the girls were at school. Clarissa shivered as she hurried across the Higgins Street Bridge, the howling wind from Hellgate Canyon provoking a shudder.
She turned down Main Street and burst into Gabriel’s workshop, teeth rattling as she thawed in the warm space.
Two workbenches lined the wall to the left of the door where Gabriel and Jeremy worked. Ronan had a small workspace to the right of the door for his cobbling business. Pieces of unfinished wood stood scattered throughout the room, waiting minor alterations, to be sanded or varnished.
Gabriel looked up from helping Billy hammer a small nail into a child-size rocking chair. “Darling,” he said with joy as he saw her. “You’re frozen through.” He pulled her to him, and his warmth seeped into her frozen limbs.
“I should have waited for you to come home tonight,” she said, her teeth chattering. “Where’s Mr. Pickens?”
“Seems he had the sense to stay home in this cold,” Ronan said with a laugh.
Clarissa murmured her agreement as she snuggled into Gabriel’s embrace. She smiled at Jeremy as he took over helping Billy for a moment.
“What had you so worried that you braved the cold?” Gabriel said into her ear.
“Patrick.” She gripped Gabe’s arm at his instinctual stiffening. “He sounded deeply troubled in his letter I received today. Here.” She pushed away from him and extracted the letter from her pocket, thrusting it at him.
He raised an eyebrow before opening the letter and reading it. He frowned as he read farther, pointing Clarissa to two specific lines in the letter.
I know Gabriel has been wary of me since my visit in October, but I find I need his counsel. Is there any chance he could visit me in Butte?
“Does he really mean this?”
“Yes, he does. He needs you in Butte, Gabriel. Will you go?”
Gabriel met her hopeful gaze and sighed. “Of course I will. No matter what occurred in October, he’s still my brother-in-law.” He reread part of the letter again. “I think Col should come, too. Whatever Patrick has to tell me, I think Pat needs family.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, shivering again as he enfolded her into his arms.
Gabriel stood with a distant gaze as he looked at the crowds of well-dressed residents walking the streets of Butte. He searched their faces and then closed his eyes. “Dammit,” he muttered.
“Are you all right, Gabe?” Colin asked. He stared at the impressive brick buildings lining Main Street, slightly out of breath due to Gabriel’s wish to walk partway.
“I keep thinking I’ll see them. Hear them call out to me, ‘Ah, Gabriel, I’ve a story to tell ye today about wee Matthew!’” Gabriel whispered, mimicking his long-lost friend Liam Egan. He turned to meet Colin’s even stare. “I’ve never been back here. Never wanted to return.”
Colin nodded. “I feel the same way about Boston, but I’m glad you did return because you came to help my brother.”
“He better have a damn good reason for making me call forth these ghosts.” Gabriel continued the short walk to the Leggat Hotel.
After checking in, they went to their room. Gabriel glanced around it and sighed. “Clarissa said we should stay at the Finlen, but I didn’t want to spend the money.”
“It’s not like you came to Butte for the hotel room,” Colin said as he slapped Gabriel on his back. “All we need are two beds.”
“Well, that’s about all we’ve got,” Gabriel said with a chuckle as he put his bag on the floor next to the lone chair. He moved toward the window and glanced down at the busy street. Colin refrained from speaking, understanding Gabriel was lost to his memories. At the loud rapping on the door, Gabriel stiffened before taking a deep breath to relax.
He turned to watch Colin embrace Patrick and pull him into the room. Patrick was as composed as ever, and Gabriel frowned. “I expected to see you in some sort of distress,” he grumbled as he shook hands with him.
Colin stiffened at Gabe’s tone, earning a scowl from him.
“You asked me to come, Patrick, and I’m here. What couldn’t you write in a letter?”
“I know you’re upset with me, Gabriel. I used to think it was unfounded, which only made me angry. I’ve since learned I was wrong.” He paced to the window, his gaze unseeing. “A friend betrayed my confidence. Told Samuel—Henry—about your family. About Rory. Things that she had learned from me.”
Colin squinted as he watched his brother. “Not that woman you were interested in?”
“The very one.” He turned to face them, leaning against the windowsill. “What I need to know, Gabriel, is how you managed to live in a town with the man who harmed Clarissa and not kill him.”
Gabriel went rigid at the mention of Cameron. “What does he have to do with this?” His eyes narrowed. “What’s Henry done to your friend?”
Patrick’s hands clenched, and his jaw tightened. “He’s abused her, weekly, since mid-December.” He shared a bleak look with his brother.
Gabriel flushed with anger. “Why?”
“She refused to report any further about my family. She hadn’t realized there was any relation between me and Henry and hadn’t known she was causing me harm.”
Gabriel gripped the back of his nape, massaging it as it tensed. “So instead of feeding that snake more information, she allowed herself to be abused?”
“It makes no sense,” Colin whispered with a shake of his head. “Unless she’s not the sort of woman you thought she was.”
In an instant Colin’s back was against a wall with Patrick leaning against him. “Don’t you speak against her. You have no idea what she’s suffered.”
Rather than responding in rage, Colin smiled sadly. “I fear that Gabe’s cousin has been successful in making you miserable too, as well as your woman.”
Patrick released Colin with a small pat to his shoulder in apology and backed away. He rubbed at his hair, collapsing onto the only chair in the room. “I hate that she’s been hurt in such a way. And yet I’m filled with such anger.”
Gabriel sighed his understanding, perching on the edge of one of the beds and leaning his elbows on h
is knees. “That’s why you wanted me here. Because you knew I’d gone through something similar with Clarissa.”
Patrick nodded, his eyes bleak.
“You’re angry at Henry but also at yourself.” Gabriel paused, cocking his head to one side. “And at her.” At Patrick’s reluctant nod, Gabriel sighed. “There is no correct answer. No one way to see yourself through this, Pat.”
At Gabriel’s pause, Colin spoke up. “Do you still want her after all this?”
Patrick clenched his jaw, but the men’s silence coaxed him to speak. “I think I want her more. I wanted her before because she was open and bright, and I saw beauty again when I was with her. I began to draw again.” He met Colin’s gaze, noting the flash of pain and regret in Colin’s eyes.
“And now?” Colin asked.
“Now, now I realize she’s strong, as strong as Rissa. There’s nothing she won’t do to protect those she cares about. Maybe all women have that inner strength, but it’s not something women are encouraged to show us.” He scrubbed at his face. “But I don’t know if I can get past my anger.”
“Why are you so mad?” Gabriel asked.
“She wouldn’t have had to do any of that if she’d come to me first. Spoken to me. I hate that she didn’t trust me.”
“You have no idea what fear does. It takes away all rational thought, and all you can consider is the worst that could happen,” Gabriel murmured.
Patrick stared bleakly at Gabriel. “Would you have been able to”—he closed his eyes a moment—“been able to accept a child not your own?”
“Goddamn him to hell!” Gabriel roared as he stood and paced to the window. He took a deep breath to calm his roiling emotions. “I despise my cousin. I always will for how he treated me and my brothers when we were children. But I never thought I could hate him with such virulence as I do now for what you describe he’s done to this woman.”
“She’s pregnant?” Colin whispered. “By him?”
Patrick nodded, dropping his head into his hands. “She won’t marry me.” He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “She can’t marry me because she’s already married.”
“What kind of woman is she?” Gabriel asked, meeting Patrick’s irate gaze with one of cold calmness. “I mean no offense. However, as you stated, she’s led you on, involved herself with my cousin to the point she’s carrying his child, and she’s already married to another man?”
“God, Pat, you never did do things by half, did you?” Colin said with a sigh, sitting on the other bed and collapsing backward for a minute as he stared at the ceiling. He shook his head side to side as he contemplated his brother’s predicament.
“If I were rational, I would walk away and have nothing more to do with her. But I can’t.” Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Her first husband, a drunkard, took out a life insurance policy on her and then plotted various ways to kill her in an innocent-looking manner to collect the policy. She fled before he could succeed, and she lives in fear that he’ll find her.”
“Thus the blackmail,” Gabriel growled. “She has to know she can divorce him and all such hold over her is void.”
“She was terrified of him finding her. However, I think her association with your cousin has taught her there are worse men in this world. Henry’s made her husband seem an amateur when it comes to cruelty.”
“What a mess,” Gabriel muttered. “I thought Clarissa and I had a complicated beginning, but it’s nothing compared to this.”
“Why do you still want to be with her, Pat?” Colin asked. “It doesn’t make sense to me why you don’t look for someone else.”
While Patrick sat in silence, Gabriel sighed and said, “To answer one of your questions, the reason why Cameron didn’t die at my hand was that I refused to allow him to separate me from Rissa. He’d already done enough damage to our relationship. I vowed not to allow him further influence over it.”
“Did you ever forgive him?” Patrick asked.
“Hell, no. Every time she flinches when someone mentions her past, every time I see that distant lost look in her eyes and I know she’s been reminded of that sitting room, I want to rip his head off his shoulders.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists a moment before exhaling a deep breath and forcing himself to relax. “But I know she doesn’t need my rage or to feel that there’s any further need for rancor. She doesn’t need to have one moment’s worth of doubt about my decision to wed her.”
“How do you handle it?” Colin asked, propping himself on his elbows on the bed, studying Gabriel with a mixture of curiosity and fascination.
“By putting her needs first always. Long walks in the woods helped, until Rory’s death.” His gaze became distant. “Focusing on the future, rather than the past.”
“You make it sound simple,” Patrick said.
“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done or will continue to do. I’ve come to realize life will never be as I imagined it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not filled with moments of joy.”
Patrick nodded and shared a long look of understanding with Gabriel. “I worry I won’t be that person for Fiona.”
“If you think you’ll mention it in an argument, even once, then don’t continue with her. Don’t provoke such pain in her or yourself.”
“What does Gabriel write?” Savannah asked Clarissa as they scurried around her living room in preparation for the meeting to organize the canvassing for the vote in Missoula. “I thought they’d be home by now.”
“It seems that Patrick’s predicament is much more complicated than we were led to believe. Thus, he and Colin will remain in Butte, for a few more days at least, to try to help him.” She shared a long glance with Savannah. “I wish Col had written, but I have a feeling Gabe told him not to. Colin has a way of writing more than he should and informing me of what is truly going on. Gabriel just tells me all is well and that he’ll explain when he sees me.”
“I’m thankful that Jeremy wasn’t asked to travel to Butte.”
“I think Gabriel wanted to ask him to join them but knew you’d want him here to complain to after our suffragist meeting today,” Clarissa teased. She rose, surveying the room. A small desk stood under the front window, the early afternoon sun limning the maple wood. Rows of chairs faced the desk, awaiting the arrival of the women.
“What if no one comes?” Savannah asked.
“They’ll come, if for no other reason than to eat a delicious tea,” Clarissa said. “Few can pass up the opportunity to eat Minta’s treats.” She smiled at Araminta, who entered from the kitchen door to place a plate of cookies on a rear table.
Soon women arrived, and they placed their coats in the office on the opposite side of the front hallway to the living room. By the time the meeting began, all the seats were filled, and Clarissa had dragged in a few more chairs from the library for those who’d arrived late.
Clarissa and Savannah stood toward the front of the room as they discussed their strategy for canvassing for the vote. “Unfortunately Miss Rankin is unable to be here today. Important committee work in Butte prevented her from being here. However, she sent us a letter, detailing what she envisions.” Savannah held up a letter from Jeannette Rankin, the state’s leader for the cause. Although from Missoula, she hadn’t spent much time in the area of late due to her statewide duties.
“We believe it is imperative that we visit each home and discuss with everyone the importance of voting rights for women and for our society as a whole,” Clarissa said. Before she could speak further, she was interrupted.
Mrs. Vaughan, attired in a brilliant shade of tangerine, snickered her disapproval. “You weaken the movement by breaking it up and doing it piecemeal. You should have a large rally in each city and town.”
“I agree that having rallies and gatherings are a good idea,” Savannah said, subtly elbowing Clarissa in the side to remain silent as she inhaled to contradict Mrs. Vaughan. “However, a significant number of families, of women, children and men will al
ways be unable or unwilling to attend such gatherings. We need to visit them in their homes, on their farms and ranches. Everyone needs to understand why we believe in universal suffrage and why we believe that their vote matters. Why the women who live in that household should have a vote and a political voice.”
Mrs. Bouchard huffed as she and her sister shook their heads in disagreement. “You waste your time visiting those not in a city. Their numbers aren’t important. You should focus where the majority of the people are.”
“I don’t understand how you can say that, Mrs. Bouchard,” Clarissa argued. “Montana has a significant rural population, even with its large cities of Butte and Helena. We need more than to appeal to those living in a city. We want this to be successful statewide, so that all residents will look at what transpired and be proud of what occurred, not resentful of what those in the city forced them to accept.”
“I think you intentionally choose this path because you’re hopeful this referendum won’t pass. You’re working as saboteurs,” Mrs. Vaughan snapped, vibrating with indignation, her suit puckering as though she were an overripe fruit.
“Rissa,” Savannah whispered in warning as Clarissa flushed, clamped her jaw and leaned forward for verbal battle with a woman who’d been her nemesis for years.
“You have it backward, Mrs. Vaughan,” Clarissa said. “I’ve always been for suffrage, since I read my first Woman’s Journal in 1900. I believe so greatly in this cause I have my young daughters here today.” She pointed to Geraldine and Myrtle, sitting on the left side of the room toward the front. “You are the recent convert, seeing as you railed against my modern eastern convictions upon my arrival and every day since. Your presence here today could be construed as suspect, especially since your own daughter is notably absent.”
Savannah stepped in front of Clarissa as her rage built. Savannah smiled magnanimously while waving Miss Rankin’s letter, now in her hand. “These are the goals set forth by Miss Rankin, and, although they might appear ambitious, I believe they are attainable. However, we want all to feel welcome, doing whatever they can for the movement. If that means speaking to your friends and family, that is wonderful. The more you can do, the better.” She stared pointedly at a disgruntled Mrs. Vaughan, who kept her silence.
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