Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  Nate’s brow furrowed. “What’s the issue?”

  “I don’t know the particulars, but I’d stay away if I were you.” Martha looked past them, down the street. “I have to get back to the shop before Mr. Hemsworth comes looking for me. I don’t want him to get caught in the middle of that mob.”

  No sooner had she finished speaking than a group of men strode around the corner and marched toward them. Some hooted and shouted, while others waved their fists in the air. Maggie counted at least a dozen men, but they kept coming and she lost count.

  Martha gave a wide-eyed yelp and ran off down the street.

  “Hold on!” Nate wrestled with the gears, looked over his shoulder, and started backing down the street. The angry crowd surged forward and surrounded their motorcar. Nate had no choice but to stop or run over some of them.

  He jerked up the hand brake and rose to his feet. His eyebrows drew down in a V as he scanned the crowd. “What is the meaning of this?” His commanding tone startled some of the men, and a few stepped back, but the rest of them continued shouting and waving their arms, blocking any way of escape.

  A young man in a shabby brown coat and plaid cap stepped forward, turned to the crowd, and lifted both arms. “He wants to know our meaning! Let’s tell him, boys!”

  “We’re the men from Clifton!” another man shouted. “And we’re on our way to make the owners listen to our demands!” A rowdy cheer rose from the swarming crowd.

  Maggie gripped the armrest and shot an anxious glance at Nate. Did the men realize Nate was one of those owners?

  Nate shook his head. “They won’t listen if you come like this, shouting your demands and frightening the good people of this village.”

  A stout man in a green coat moved forward and jabbed a finger toward Nate. “That’s Harcourt! He’s on the board!”

  Catcalls, boos, and hisses emanated from the group.

  “Ha! Look at the mighty lord, riding around in his fancy motorcar!”

  “What gives you the right to live like a king while we can barely afford to feed our children?”

  “How do you expect us to provide for our families on the measly wages you pay?”

  “We’re tired of working ourselves into an early grave for men who care nothing for us!”

  Maggie’s gaze darted from one man to the next as she tried to see who shouted each phrase, but the shifting of the crowd and overlapping voices made it nearly impossible.

  Nate lifted his hand, trying to calm the men. “I am Nathaniel Harcourt, yes, and I’m a member of the board at Clifton, but this is not the time or place to air your grievances.”

  “Why not?” “Are you afraid to hear what we have to say?” “This is as good a time as any!” “You just don’t want to listen!”

  Nate lifted his hand again. “I’ve only recently returned from serving in the Navy and taken over my father’s position at Clifton, following his death. I understand there are serious issues that need to be addressed. I’ve met with some of your leaders to hear your grievances, and it’s my hope—”

  “That was weeks ago! Nothing has changed!” The man in the green coat stepped forward again. “You and Reverend Samuelson promised you’d speak to the board for us, but you’ve not kept your word.”

  “That’s not true. I did speak to them, but we haven’t come to an agreement on what’s to be done.”

  Loud boos, hissing, and shouting drowned him out.

  “We’re tired of waiting for changes!” The man in the green coat lifted his fist. “Three men were badly burned today when their welding equipment exploded.”

  Nate gripped the upper edge of the windshield and stared at the man.

  “Ha! You don’t even know what happened, and you’re a member of the board!”

  Nate glared at him. “I’ll look into it.”

  The man huffed and shook his head. “That accident wouldn’t have happened if your equipment was safe and the men weren’t worn out from working night and day.” He stepped forward and gripped the motorcar’s door frame. “We’re done waiting, Harcourt! You tell the board to meet with us face to face, listen to our demands, and make those changes, or we’re going to strike!”

  The crowd exploded with more shouts and wild cheering. Some slapped the shoulders of the men next to them, while others pounded on the front and sides of the motorcar.

  Maggie leaned toward Nate, her heart thudding in her throat.

  “Take that message back to those money-hungry tyrants!” “We’re done letting you lord it over us!” “Listen to us, or we’ll close down Clifton!”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen! This is no way to conduct yourselves!” Reverend Samuelson strode forward through the crowd, and the men stepped aside. When he reached Nate’s side of the motorcar, he turned and faced the men. “Nathaniel Harcourt has heard your complaints in meetings with your leaders, and he stands with you in your cause. He is your friend, not your enemy. But if you persist in this kind of reckless behavior, he may change his mind, and with good cause.”

  The crowd died down, and several of the men looked away with guilty glances.

  “Now, I urge you to remain calm, pray for your friends who were injured today, and encourage your leaders to pursue a peaceful resolution.” Reverend Samuelson looked around the group with a stern expression. “I’m willing to meet with your representatives Monday evening, seven o’clock, in the church hall.” He looked at Nate. “Will you join us?”

  Nate considered it for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll be there, ready to listen and respond to your questions and concerns.”

  “Very good.” Reverend Samuelson turned to the crowd. “You’ve all heard Mr. Harcourt’s reply. I trust you’ll accept that and return to your homes.”

  Maggie held her breath and searched the men’s faces. Would they listen to Reverend Samuelson and leave peaceably?

  A few at the back of the crowd turned and trudged off. Others glanced around, waiting to see what their friends would do.

  “Come on, boys.” An older man with a long gray beard slapped another man on the back. “I’m paying a visit to the Red Lion before I go home. Who wants to join me?”

  Most of the crowd shuffled off, but the man in the green coat and two others lingered, hard expressions lining their faces.

  Reverend Samuelson nodded to the man in the green coat. “John Palmer, you have something to say?”

  “I do.” Palmer turned his steely gaze on Nate. “One of the men who was burned today is my brother, Todd. He’s a fine, God-fearing man with a wife and six children. He’s worked for Clifton for eighteen years.”

  Nate studied Palmer’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Sorry isn’t going to heal his burns or feed his family. What are you going to do about that?”

  A muscle in Nate’s jaw rippled. He glanced at Reverend Samuelson and then looked back at Palmer. “I’ll see that he gets the best medical care possible and make sure his family has financial help.”

  Palmer huffed. “The management at Clifton isn’t known for taking care of the injured or their families.”

  “You have my word. I’ll see to it, even if the funds have to come out of my own account.”

  Palmer’s eyes burned with doubt and resentment. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” He spun on his heel and strode off down the street. The last two men fell into step beside him.

  Nate slowly lowered himself to the seat and turned to Reverend Samuelson. “Thank you. Your timing and choice of words couldn’t have been better.”

  “I’m glad I heard the shouting.”

  “So am I.” Nate gave a solemn nod, then turned to Maggie. “I’m sorry about all this. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Maggie glanced at Grandmother and Violet in the backseat.

  Grandmother sat forward. “I was praying the whole time. I didn’t know how God would answer, then He sent Reverend Samuelson at just the right moment.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure if her gra
ndmother’s prayers or the reverend’s good hearing were responsible for him coming; either way, she was grateful.

  Nate and Reverend Samuelson spoke for a few more minutes, discussing how they would help the injured men and their families. When they’d agreed on a plan, Reverend Samuelson bid them good day and walked toward the church.

  Nate released the hand brake. “I’ll take you to Mrs. Fenwick’s, but I think it’s best if we go the back way.”

  “Yes, it sounds wise to avoid the center of the village.”

  Nate backed up a short distance, then turned into the narrow alley that ran behind the shops on that side of the street. They met no one in the alley, and Maggie was glad of it.

  “There it is.” She pointed to the back entrance of the teashop.

  Nate left the motor idling. He walked around to open the rear passenger door for Grandmother and Violet and helped them down. “Why don’t you wait inside the shop? I’ll park the motorcar and come back for you.”

  Grandmother handed Violet her crutches and guided the girl toward the rear entrance of the teashop. Nate opened Maggie’s door.

  She glanced down the alley. Was it safe for him to go on alone? “Why don’t you leave the motorcar here?” She took his hand as she stepped down.

  “I don’t want to block the way. Someone else might want to get past.”

  Maggie nodded but held tight to his hand. “Please be careful.”

  A hint of surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by a warm smile. “Don’t worry. There’s a shady spot in the lot behind the church. I’ll park there and be back in a few minutes.”

  Maggie swallowed and nodded, but she still felt uneasy. “Perhaps I should come with you.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be fine, and I’d rather you wait inside the shop where I know you’re safe.”

  “All right.” She tightened her grasp for just a moment, then slipped her hand from his and walked toward the teashop. As she opened the door, she looked back. He stood in the alley, watching her and waiting to see that she was safely inside. She lifted her hand and he did the same, then he climbed into the motorcar and drove away.

  Maggie sighed and closed the door, concern for Nate clouding her thoughts. She admired the way he’d stood up to the men from Clifton, but what if they were watching and waiting for a chance to vent their anger on him in a more dangerous way? Her heart clenched at that thought.

  “Maggie?” Violet swung toward her. “Mrs. Fenwick says I can have a scone. Is it all right?”

  She forced her worries away and focused on her sister. “Yes, it’s fine. Be sure to thank her.”

  “I will.” Violet hopped away.

  The scent of fresh-baked apple cinnamon scones floated toward Maggie as she followed Violet into the front room of the shop.

  Her grandmother sat at a table with Mrs. Fenwick while two younger women scurried around preparing tea for them. Did she have enough time to sit down and enjoy a cup before Nate returned? Either way, she would buy something for him as a way to say thank you.

  She studied the baked goods in the glass case, trying to imagine what he would like, and decided on the apple cinnamon scones.

  It wasn’t much, but she wanted him to know she appreciated his willingness to drive them to the village and help them today. He didn’t have to do that. Yet he’d taken time out of his busy schedule and ended up facing an angry mob.

  She glanced out the window, and a shiver traveled down her back. All was quiet now, but how long would that last? Would Nate and Reverend Samuelson be able to calm the men and convince the board to listen to their grievances, or would a strike break out and spread anger and turmoil through the whole village?

  An hour later, Maggie stood with Nate and Mr. Horace Ledbetter in front of what remained of her grandmother’s millinery shop. She and Nate had finished interviewing the first builder, Mr. Robert Daniels, thirty minutes earlier. He came highly recommended, but he was a grim, hard-faced man who made Maggie decidedly uncomfortable. She hoped this second builder would be a better fit.

  Mr. Ledbetter rubbed his chin as he scanned the front wall’s charred stones, then he took a small pad of paper and pencil from his jacket pocket and made a few notes. “Now, don’t you worry, Miss Lounsbury. We can set things right for you in no time at all. And when we’re done, your shop will look as good as new, even better, or my name is not Horace Ledbetter.”

  Maggie liked the man’s friendly, confident manner. He would certainly be easier to work with than Mr. Daniels.

  Nate motioned toward the scorched stones and charred timbers. “Can you give an estimate of how much it will cost to complete the reconstruction?”

  Maggie nodded, eager to hear what he’d say.

  Mr. Ledbetter tipped up the brim of his hat and scanned the burned storefront once more. “Well now, I’ll need to look inside and take some measurements. That should give me a better idea of what’s needed.” He started toward the front entrance. Nate and Maggie followed.

  When they reached the doorway, Mr. Ledbetter noticed Maggie behind him. “There’s no need for you to soil your dress, walking through all the ash and soot. I can look things over.”

  “All right.” Maggie stepped back, relieved she didn’t need to climb through the burned debris.

  Nate pushed open the scorched door. “I’ll go with you.”

  “If you’d like.” Mr. Ledbetter nodded to Nate.

  Gratefulness warmed Maggie’s heart again, and she sent Nate a smile as he followed Mr. Ledbetter through the doorway.

  “Watch your step,” the builder called. “There’s broken glass and nails.”

  Maggie crossed her arms and watched them disappear into the shop. The lower story was faced with stone, which still stood, though blackened by the fire. But the wooden upper story had burned and fallen in on top of the rest. She sighed and shook her head. What a waste.

  The sound of horses’ hooves down the street drew her attention, and she turned. A wagon pulled by two strong bays and filled with building supplies stopped in front of what remained of the neighboring shop.

  Joseph Neatherton hopped down from the driver’s seat, and his father slowly climbed down after him. Joseph lifted his hand to Maggie and walked toward her.

  She met him halfway. “Hello, Joseph. How are you?”

  “I’m well.” He nodded to her, his eyes shining. “It’s good to see you, Maggie. I was worried about you after the fire. I didn’t know where you’d gone. Then Lilly wrote and told me you were staying at Morningside.”

  “Yes, the Harcourts have been kind.” At least that was true of Nate, though Helen remained cool and unpleasant. Maggie put aside that thought and focused on Joseph again. “I was concerned about you and your father as well.”

  “We’re all right. We’re staying with my uncle on his farm near Millcrest until we can move back to the shop.” Joseph looked toward the scorched shell of the building. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. There’s no doubt about that. But we’re ready to take it on.” He looked her way again. “And what about you and your grandmother? Will you rebuild?”

  “Yes. That’s why I’m here today. Mr. Ledbetter is looking around inside now. He’s going to give us an estimate.”

  Joseph crossed his arms. “He’s a good man. I’m sure he’ll do a fine job for you.”

  “That’s good to hear. Several others have recommended him as well.”

  “So the money from your insurance claim came through?”

  “Not yet, but we have some savings. That will help us get started.”

  “It’s lucky you had some money put away.” Joseph glanced at his father.

  Was it luck or divine provision? She dismissed that thought. “When the insurance money arrives, we’ll be able to finish up and restock the shop.” She tried to infuse her voice with confidence, but an unsettled, anxious feeling stirred in her heart again. Would they receive the money that was due them? Were her grandmother’s prayers and optimistic feelings enough to jus
tify hiring a builder and starting the work? Nate seemed to think so.

  She glanced at the wagon stacked with wood. “It looks like your claim was settled in record time.”

  “No, it was denied.”

  “Why? What did they say?”

  “It seems Father missed making some payments recently, and they don’t look too kindly on that.”

  “Oh, Joseph, I’m so sorry!” Maggie shook her head, her heart aching for her friends.

  “Father was beside himself when the letter arrived. He has spent his whole life working in that shop, and my grandfather before him.”

  She reached out and touched Joseph’s arm. “If there’s anything we can do to help you…” She wasn’t sure what practical help she could give, but he certainly deserved her sympathy.

  He laid his large, rough fingers over hers and looked into her eyes. “Thank you, Maggie. That means a lot to me.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and she slipped her hand away. She must be careful not to give Joseph a reason to hope for more than friendship.

  “We’ll be all right,” Joseph said. “My uncle James owns a lumber mill. He gave us that load of wood and some tools and supplies and refused to take more than a few pounds for them. And last week several friends came and helped us clear away the rubble.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Rebuilding may take longer than we’d like, but we’ll open our shop again, even without the insurance company’s help.”

  “With a determined spirit like that, I’m sure you’ll finish in no time.” Maggie’s gaze shifted to Mr. Neatherton. “Your father must be very grateful for all you’re doing.”

  Joseph watched his father give orders to two young men who were unloading the wood from the back of the wagon. “He’s not one to offer thanks often, but I think he’s glad for my help.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  Joseph glanced at Maggie again, his smile returning. “We’ll be working here most days, but I could come to Morningside to see you on Sunday afternoon.”

  Maggie’s breath caught, and she tried to think of a reply that wouldn’t hurt her friend’s feelings. “Oh, Joseph, that’s a long way for you to come.”