by Danni Roan
“Won’t that be lovely,” Mrs. Middleton gushed. “I know Melissa will be thrilled. She always feels so alone amongst the hustle of the holiday.” She reached across the small table and squeezed Mae’s arm. “We’ll send someone for your things on Friday, dear. Please pack for the week.”
Mae’s heart soared. She would be with her friend for the holiday and she knew that it would ease the homesickness she felt as Thanksgiving approached. She smiled brightly at Melissa’s mother. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispered.
“Say thank you, of course,” her aunt scowled at her, then hid her displeasure behind her delicate China teacup.
“Thank you,” Mae said, dropping her gaze.
Small talk filled the next half hour as the ladies finished their tea. Mrs. Middleton mentioned several activities they might enjoy on the Cape and suggested that Mae pack appropriately before bidding Jemma good day.
“Well, let’s get to it,” Jemma said as soon as the other woman had gone. “At least you’ve attracted the right kinds of friends.” Even her praise sounded critical.
“Yes, Aunt Jemma,” Mae said softly, holding her heart in check even as it leapt for joy. Quietly she followed her aunt up the stairs to her room to determine what items would go with her on the trip.
“You’ll need your riding habit, I’m sure,” Jemma said, eyeing the deep blue gown, “and your black and blue walking dress.”
Mae tittered, evoking a scowl from her aunt. Black and blue had always been her colors, but in a very different way.
Ginny jumped each time Jemma spoke, chanting, “Yes, Miss,” with every suggestion before pulling the item out of the cupboard and carefully packing it into a mid-sized trunk, wrapping each item in clean paper and smoothing it out as much as possible so that removing the wrinkles would be a quick process.
Mae watched as each item went into the trunk along with other items like corset, chemise, and drawers. It seemed like a ridiculous number of items. After all, you could only wear one dress at a time. Not for the first time she wished for her split riding skirt and wide-brimmed hat; even her simple calico dresses with their straight sleeves and frugal skirts seemed better than this.
Biting her lip, Mae let her aunt and Ginny pack for her, never whispering her doubts about the need for so much for one week. All she cared about was that she was going and that for one glorious week she could spend all of her time with her friend.
***
“Mae James!” the harsh voice of Jemma Johnson, made Mae jump. “Come away from that window. You are not some common housemaid to stand there waiting to be fetched. It’s not proper.”
“Sorry, Auntie,” Mae stepped away from the front door where she had been anxiously awaiting the Middleton’s coach. She’d been awake before dawn with excitement and had barely been able to eat anything, but had dutifully nibbled toast at breakfast and now her stomach churned with nerves.
“Come and sit down and at least try to act like a lady,” Jemma settled herself in a stiff backed chair and lifted a book from the adjacent table, but her piercing gaze resting on Mae was critical.
Slowly Mae lowered herself to a chair and forced herself to stillness, only the tip of a black toed boot wiggling under her full skirts. She hated this inactivity. Never in her life would she have believed she could miss chores, but anything would be better than sitting idle.
When the doorknocker finally fell on the front door, Mae wanted to spring to her feet and race to open the door, but instead she sat like a statue in her hard chair and waited for Mr. Carver to do his job.
Hearing the voice of her best friend echoing politely in the tall entry was more than Mae could take and she sprang to her feet, but managed not to run to the door. Instead, she calmly bent and kissed her aunt’s cheek before walking slowly away.
“I do hope you’ll have a lovely Thanksgiving, Aunt Jemma,” she said, wondering for the first time what the older woman would do for the holiday.
“I’m sure I will,” Jemma said. “Be sure not to embarrass me while you’re gone,” she added tersely.
Mae’s heart bumped loudly against her chest as she wondered if her aunt would ever trust her. She didn’t mean to cause trouble for her family or friends, life was simply too interesting to spend it closed up in a big house never doing anything.
Walking as demurely as possible, Mae arrived in the foyer to see her trunks and boxes loaded in a large wagon.
“Oh, Mae!” Melissa’s voice drew her further into the room. The next moment Melissa had wrapped her arms around Mae with a giggle. “Reese is driving us to the house, but our trunks will follow behind.” Her bright smile showed her level of excitement and Mae bounced on her toes with anticipation.
“Good-bye, Mr. Carver,” Mae called over her shoulder as she dashed out the door and down the stairs to the waiting cart.
“Have a nice time, Ms. Mae,” the aging butler said, helping her and then Melissa into the buggy.
“Thank you,” both girls called, giggling as Reese clicked to his sleek team and started out at a brisk trot.
“I can’t believe we’re going to the Cape,” Mae said
“We’ll have so much fun,” Melissa chimed in.
Reese smiled at his sister. He was glad she had a friend she could truly be herself around. Mae did not expect Mel to be anything but what she was. Society had too many strictures on women. Melissa enjoyed the society socials, but she had so much life in her. Sometimes he worried that she would let the sniping of others influence her.
He wanted her settled, well married and cared for before he finished his studies and left Boston for good. It would be a shock to his whole family, but Boston held nothing he wanted.
For a moment, he looked toward the young woman seated next to him on the soft bench seat. Perhaps there was one thing Boston had to offer.
Skillfully, Reese moved the horse and cart through the heavy traffic of the big city until they were out of the worst of it.
“Take us along the coast,” Melissa said, leaning around her friend and smiling at him. “I love traveling along the coast.”
“We’ll pass terribly close to the wharf if we turn now,” Reese scowled.
“Surely you aren’t afraid of being near the wharf, especially at this time of day,” Mel scowled back, making him smile.
“Alright, we’ll go along the coast.”
“Oh, I’ll actually see the ocean up close,” said Mae, nearly bouncing in her seat.
“Heavens, you haven’t been to the coast yet?” Melissa’s voice was shocked.
“No. Aunt Jemma said we’d go when the weather was warmer, though I thought August was warm enough.”
“I think it will indeed be a treat for you, then, Mae,” Reese added his comments. “When we get to our other home we’ll have a wonderful time walking along the beach.”
Mae clapped her hands with excitement. “I can’t believe my good fortune.” She turned her dark eyes toward Reese, her smile bright. “Wait until I write to Pa about this.”
“Reese! Reese! Stop the cart.” Melissa’s words had her brother dragging on the reins, causing the horses’ steel shod hooves to scrape and slide on the paving, even before she stopped speaking. “Look, that man needs help.”
Together Mae and Reese turned to look at where Mel was pointing. A rather large man sat in the gutter, his head drooping low on his bare chest, streaks of blood standing out bright along his cheek and shoulder.
As the horse’s hooves came to a clattering halt, Melissa jumped from the buggy and dashed to the man’s side. A second later, Mae was beside her.
“Ladies!” Reese cried, wrapping the reins around the buggy whip and charging after them. “You don’t know anything about this man, he could be dangerous.”
“But he’s hurt.” Mae’s strange, innocent look pricked his heart.
“I understand, Mae, but we don’t know anything about him.” Gently he rested his hand on her shoulder. “Mel, be careful,” he chided again, push
ing Mae behind him as he reached for his sister.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” Melissa Middleton reached toward the man. Noticing a heavy coat and hat sitting next to him, she carefully lifted the garment and draped it around shoulders thick with ropes of muscle.
“Uh?” the man lifted his head, tossing his thick black hair out of bruised eyes.
“Are you alright?” Melissa leaned in, letting the man focus on her face. “I’m Ms. Middleton. Can we help you?”
“Nay, Miss.” The man’s voice was thick with an Irish accent, his crooked nose had a thick scab across its bridge, and purple rings puffed out his eyes.
“Mel. Step away from him,” Reese barked. “He could be dangerous.”
A deep throaty chuckle echoed from the man. “Aye, that I am sir, just not to ye.”
“Reese, stop being a goose. This man needs help.”
“We need to get him to the water.” Mae stepped up next to her friend and reached for the man’s arm. “What is your name, sir?” her voice was clear and sharp. “Don’t waste my time now, what is your name?”
“Ca’thal, I mean Carl. They call me Carl McHain.”
Mae looked at her friend. “Mel, fetch a towel or cloth of some kind. Reese, get him up and help me get him to the water. Cold salt water will do him a world of good.”
“Up you go, Mr. McHain,” Reese spoke, shaking his head even as he pulled the man’s arm over his own shoulders and helped him to his feet.
“Aye, I’ll be alright,” the other man said, but draped an arm around Reese’s shoulders for support anyway. “I’ve had worse,” he mumbled.
Mae slipped the man’s other arm over her shoulder and together the threesome staggered toward a nearby dock.
“Who did this to you?” Mae asked, “You look like you’ve been run over by a mad bull.”
Again, a chuckle shook the man. “I did this to me-self.” He laughed and Reese looked to Mae. Was the man mad?
“You couldn’t do this to yourself.” Mae’s voice was sharp. “Someone has beaten you; it’s as plain as, well as plain as the crooked nose on your face.”
“Aye, lass it is, but I still did it to me-self. I’m a roughneck, I am, and my last fight I took a lickin’. I won mind you, but you can see the price.”
As their boots clattered on the boards of the dock, Reese and Mae helped the man to sit. With another laugh, he moved to his knees, and with his hands still locked on the heavy planking of the walk he lunged forward, submerging his head in the icy water.
With a gasp, Mr. McHain pulled himself back up onto the dock, and with a shake of his head, tossed his inky hair out of his eyes.
Melissa came dashing across the wooden platform only to stop dead as the tall Irishman pulled himself out of the water, tossing a spray of water over the rippling muscles of his broad shoulders and thick chest, dampening the light smattering of dark hair visible there. As he turned his head, bright blue eyes met her’s and a grin quirked the side of his mouth.
“I’ve found a towel,” she said breathlessly.
“Thank you, Miss.” the big man spoke, rising to his feet and taking the dark rag from her hand.
“Melissa, this man is a boxer by trade, and I think we’ve taken enough of his time,” Reese’s voice was sharp.
“Why would you do that?” she asked, stepping close to look at him, still somewhat stunned by his appearance.
“It makes me money, and a goodly sum of it, too,” he drawled.
“Surely there are other jobs you can do that would also earn you a living,” Mae stepped into the conversation.
“I do other work as well, Miss, I unload ships.”
“Then why do you fight?” Melissa and Mae echoed one another.
“For my sister.” The answer was so straight forward, so direct, that it left them all blinking.
“Ladies, go back to the buggy.” Reese’s voice was almost harsh with frustration, but even so, it seemed to have no impact on them at all.
“I will not have my sister working as a char in our new home of America,” Carl snarled. “She’s getting an education and the only way to pay for it is for me to fight.” He grinned wickedly for a moment. “Besides, it’s easy money.”
“Reese, do something,” Melissa stepped up to her brother. “No man should have to take a beating to provide for his sister.” Her eyes were imploring.
“Mel, what can I do? He’s a grown man and can do as he wishes.”
Two sets of eyes fell on him, Reese shivered as bright green, and dark brown eyes pinned him to the wharf.
“There must be something,” Mel wheedled. “You’re bright, you’ll think of something.” She turned her gaze to the tall Irishman who was walking slowly up the dock, his lean muscled waist barely visible from under his coat.
“If only he had a better job,” Mae spoke, and then returned to chewing her lower lip. Reese could not pull his eyes away from her quickly darkening mouth and he had to swallow before he could speak.
“Yes, that’s it!” Mel squealed, “You can give him a job.” she exclaimed jostling his arm.
“A job?” Reese pulled his eyes away from Mae and glared at his sister.
“Yes, a job, you know one of those things that most people in this country still seem to need to survive.” Her green eyes, so much like his own, sparkled. “Now if only I knew someone who had a prosperous business.” Her lips twitched.
Reese groaned. He knew his sister would never let this go. “Mel, I can’t just give the man a job.”
“Why?” Mae queried.
Reese swung toward her. “Mae, I can’t give a man we found on the street a job.”
“Why?”
Reese rubbed his forehead, feeling the first hint of a headache coming on. “I don’t know anything about that man.” He pointed toward the fighter, now leaning against a lamp pole.
“If he were to come to your office in reply to an advertisement for employment and answered all of the questions you had, you would give him a job. How is this any different?”
“It just is.”
“Why?”
Reese looked deep into Mae’s eyes and felt his heart sink. He knew he’d lost. He knew he was lost.
“He can come along to the Cape with us,” Melissa chimed in suddenly, picking up where Mae had left off. “He can carry bags and do odd jobs until we come back to the city.”
“Melissa, we don’t know anything about this man.”
“We’ll find out.” And with a flounce, his sister turned on her heel and walked toward the battered young man resting against the lamppost.
“I’m sure it will all work out fine,” Mae said, her voice bright with hope as she laid a hand on Reese’s arm. “My Pa’s taken on several new ranch hands over the past few years and we all love them.” She smiled wickedly, “Some love them a little more, I guess though, since my sisters seem to have married them.”
Reese stopped dead in his tracks, his feet frozen to the planks of the dock as he watched the petite young woman sashay her way toward the street. “There will be none of that around here,” he growled under his breath, before striding toward the buggy.
“What do you mean No Thank You?” Melissa’s voice was strained. “Surely you don’t think you can fight again in your condition, it’s madness.”
“Ma’am, I’m not lookin’ for a hand out. I’m an able bodied man and can see to my family on my own.”
“Charity! Charity! Who said anything about charity?” Mel screeched indignantly, placing her hands on her hips and really getting wound up.
Reese could see his sister winding up for a true tirade, so before she got started he stepped in, gently taking her by the arm. “Go to the buggy, dear sister,” he said, a smile glued in place even as his words bit deep.
“Mr. McHain and I have some business to discuss. I’m sure Mae doesn’t want to be left all alone.” He tipped his hat toward where Mae now stood, stroking one of his horses.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Melissa replied
, but the spark in her eye told him he’d better get her what she wanted or there would be hell to pay.
“It’s like I told yer sister, sir, I don’t need no charity. I can take care of me-self.” The brogue was back in full force.
“I believe that is rather obvious from the condition of your face.” Reese eyed the man critically. They were within an inch of being the same height and at six foot two inches; Reese knew he was exceptionally tall. The other man’s hair was as black as pitch, but with a different quality from the almost blue-black of Mae’s and his eyes were the startling blue of a bright morning sky.
“You said earlier that you fight to keep your sister from having to work as a char woman or maid. Is that correct?”
“Aye.” The other man stood a little taller, his eyes taking on a wary look.
“Then I have one question for you. As you can see, I am also a brother and my little sister is quite the handful. I’d do anything for her. Do you understand?”
“Aye, I’d do anything for my sister as well. So what’s your question?”
“What happens to your sister if you are so badly injured that you can no longer work?”
A cold silence settled between the two men, a chill with more bite than the autumn air or even the frosty ocean. The silence stretched from long seconds to minutes, until finally the Irishman spoke.
“I see yer point.” He squinted his bruised eyes, taking in Reese with a skeptical glare. “I still canna’ take charity, though.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. My father owns an import business and needs young men who are willing to work hard. Men with ambition to see the company grow and do whatever job is at hand. I’d like to offer you a position with the company.”
Carl McHain leaned forward. “What kind of work?” he asked suspiciously.
“Whatever is needed. It could be loading and unloading, or office work, or bookkeeping. Are you any good with numbers?”
“Aye,” McHain replied, his eyes taking on a look of hope. “I studied Mathematics in school and my father had a shop where I kept the books.”
