by Kit Morgan
Adaline’s lip trembled as her jaw shook.
“There, there,” Polly consoled. “He’ll be alright, you’ll see. Folks get a bump on the head, and an occasional faint is only natural, especially after the sort of bumps he’s got.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m so upset, after all, I hardly know the man,” Adaline explained.
“Hush now. Let’s get some food in you while his folks take care of him.”
Adaline couldn’t think of food, her stomach was in knots at the thought of Lorcan being injured worse than he let on, or anyone possibly knew. “Where did Cyrus go?”
“To fetch the doctor. Head injuries can be tricky, and we’ll want to make sure Lorcan is well taken care of. Don’t worry, I’ve seen this sort of thing before.”
Adaline’s eyes widened. “Do you think he’s in any danger?”
“Not if the good Lord has any say in it. Now sit down and I’ll get you something.”
Adaline agonized the next half hour as she stared at her soup, watched the doctor come, go, and witnessed the Brodys’ walk into the parlor, their faces expressionless.
She stood without thinking. “Is he going to be all right?”
Mrs. Brody smiled. “Of course, dearie. He just needs time,” she looked to the floor in contemplation, “and a reason.” She looked at Adaline. “Why don’t you take him his lunch, and give it to him.”
“He’s awake?” she breathed.
“Aye, and hungry.”
Adaline looked to the hall. “You want me to … feed him?”
“Well, he could feed himself,” Mr. Brody added. “But having a pretty lass like you helping him, would serve to brighten his day.”
Adaline took a deep breath. This was turning out to be quite the afternoon.
Eight
She opened the door to Lorcan’s room and stared at the man on the bed. They’d covered him with a quilt and he looked much the same as the day before, except now he was conscious. But if one didn’t know it, one would think he was still out cold, the bandages around his eyes making it impossible to tell. “Lorcan?” she whispered.
“Aye, lass.”
She swallowed and took a few tentative steps into the room. Mrs. Brody brought in a tray and set it on the dresser. “Here we are, a bit of soup and bread ought to do him good. Just bring the tray out when you’re done, dearie.”
Adaline’s eyes widened. “You’re not staying?”
“No, only takes one of us to get the job done, and you’re capable.”
Adaline quirked a brow at the remark, then nodded. Propriety didn’t seem to be at the top of the list when it came to her and their son. But then, he was in no shape to act less than a gentleman. She went to the tray and brought the soup bowl and spoon to the bed. Mrs. Brody helped Lorcan to sit up, whispered something to him in Gaelic, kissed him on the head, and left the room.
Adaline took the chair she’d occupied earlier, and bowl in hand, sat.
“Smells good,” he said, his voice weaker than before. “I’m … I’m sorry you had to see me take a tumble.”
“At least you were already in bed when you did, she commented in a light tone. Whether it was for him or her, she wasn’t sure. “I never would have been able to get you back in bed if you’d landed on the floor.
“I suppose you enjoy seeing me like this,” he said and smiled.
She didn’t. “Of course not. Why would I want to see you in such a state?”
He turned his head to her. “I wasn’t exactly what you expected when you first got off the stage.”
A picture of him flying through a storefront window to land in the street, flashed through her mind. “I should say not.”
“I apologize, Adaline. I didn’t mean to hurt you in anyway …”
“Hurt me? You didn’t know I was coming.”
“There is no excuse for my behavior, I could have been nicer to you.”
She smiled, and wished he could see it. “You’re just saying these things because you can’t defend yourself. And because I have your lunch.”
His smile broadened. “Aye, you have me there.”
She laughed, as did he. She then proceeded to feed the mighty Lorcan Brody his soup.
* * *
Finn paced the third-story hall of the hotel as he waited. He’d been summoned to the room of one Lord Philip Brennan, by messenger, and quickly put together the fact this was the man who watched Lorcan get beaten into a bloodied pulp two nights ago. What he wanted, Finn had no idea. All he knew was he didn’t want to have this Brennan fellow send his “man” after him to make sure he got there. With Finn’s luck, he’d deliver him in a box.
The door opened, and a man poked his head out. “Lord Brennan will see you now.”
Finn twisted his hat in his hands and entered. There were several hotels and boarding houses in Oregon City, and this was the finest. But nothing in the hotel could compare to the lavish clothes or effects this Brennan fellow had surrounding him. Vases of flowers were everywhere, including a few exotic plants Finn had never seen the likes of. Gowns of silk were draped over chairs, alongside cloaks of rich velvet. Bowls of strange fruit sat here and there, and he noticed the furniture itself didn’t look like the furnishings in the rest of the hotel. But what got his attention and held it, was the woman who accompanied Brennan the night of the fights. She was beautiful, her hair beyond blonde, almost silver, and her eyes were the most unusual shade of blue he had ever seen.
She was arranging some flowers in one of the vases when Lord Brennan entered from an adjoining room. “Mr. Mullany, how good of you to come.”
Finn swallowed and nodded. “What can I do for ye, ah …”
“Lord Brennan. I don’t use my title when I’m involved in things such as … arranged fights. Of which, I am an adoring fan.”
“Are ye now? And are ye a fan of seeing a bloke’s head bashed in by forcing him to participate in one of those fights?”
Brennan smiled. “Mr. Mullany, you were the one to tell my associates he would fight.”
“Aye, but if Lorcan Brody says he isn’t going to, then I’m not one to argue with him. Ye forced him, and that sort of fighting sir, I don’t want any part of.”
Brennan smiled again, and looked to the woman. “Lissa, my love, come here.”
The woman stopped fiddling with the flowers and went to him. She looked at him, but said nothing. He looked into her eyes, smiled, and said something in a language Finn didn’t understand. She glanced at Finn and left the room.
“As you can see by your surroundings, my wife enjoys beautiful things,” Brennan told him. “But I do not wish her to hear the talk of men.” He closed the distance between them. “I want your Mr. Brody to fight for me on St. Patrick’s Day.”
Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Are ye slow in the head? Have ye seen him? He can’t get out of bed let alone fight!”
“I assure you, he’ll be right as rain by the time I need him.”
Finn shook his head. “I can’t speak for Lorcan. If ye want him to fight, ye’ll have to ask him yerself.” Enough of this! Finn thought and turned to leave.
A man came out of nowhere and blocked his path. Two more men got behind him. He was now trapped between the three. He turned as best he could, wedged as he was. “What’s all this about?”
Brennan sat in a plush chair, slung one leg over the arm, and casually examined his fingernails. “Do you have any hobbies, Mr. Mullany?”
Finn could only stare at him.
“Well I do. I enjoy fighting, and so I collect fighters, the best of the best. I also enjoy watching them try to out maneuver each other, strategize, discover what’s the best way to… kill the other.”
“That’s sick.” Finn stated.
“No, Mr. Mullany.” He raised his head and looked at him. “That’s entertainment.”
Finn swallowed. He was trapped, and didn’t know what to do except stand there and listen to this madman.
“I lost my best fighter
some years ago, not far from here in fact. You have no idea how upset I was when that happened. Now I find that I’d like to replace him. Your Mr. Brody intrigues me. I’ve decided I’d very much like to add him to my,” he smiled, “collection.”
“Ye are slow in the head,” Finn said.
“Your friend will heal up in time. See that he is ready to fight for me by St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll send word of the location and time.”
Finn’s mouth dropped open again. “He’ll never agree to it. Not even if ye paid him ten thousand dollars.”
Brennan narrowed his eyes at him, and Finn’s body went numb. There was a wickedness in those eyes, one Finn had never seen the likes of. “He will fight for me, I assure you. Your job is to have him ready to do so. Understand?”
“He’ll never do it,” Finn said, his voice almost a whisper.
Brennan was out of the chair and in his face so fast, Finn hadn’t even time to take a breath. “See that he is ready,” he hissed. “Or the last grave you dig, Mr. Mullany, will be your own.”
* * *
Lorcan stood, his body unsteady, and took his first steps since being knocked flat several nights ago. He couldn’t say it wasn’t a fair fight, other than his opponent was twice his size, twice his strength, and just plain good, unnaturally so. And that’s what had him puzzled. Where was he trained? How did he learn to fight like that? Where did he come from? The brute didn’t say one word the entire night, as Lorcan recalled, and the entourage accompanying him, only spoke when spoken to by the well-dressed man on the platform.
Lorcan shook his head. None of it mattered now, his fighting days were over. Yesterday convinced him of that. Adaline had spoon-fed him his lunch, and though on the one hand, the experience sent an exciting thrill through him, it had been humiliating on the other. He would have no more of it, and was determined to heal as quickly as possible.
His folks and the doctor were right; he had to stop fighting. This one took its toll on him, and he’d be wise to give serious thought to his future. One that included a wife.
Adaline was sweet, pretty, kind, intelligent, and caring. He’d be a complete idiot to let her go, and even though he didn’t know everything about her, she’d suit him well. He would tell his parents he’d made up his mind to marry the girl. He just hoped and prayed she’d be receptive to the idea, especially after what he’d done to her when she first arrived. If he had to court her to win her, he’d do it.
Lorcan stretched his arms and yawned. He’d slept all afternoon and into the night, and had no idea what time it was. He’d removed the bandages from his head and eyes before attempting to stand, and now fought to open them. It was difficult, and he could barely see, but he had to get out of bed or go mad. He glanced about the dark room, his vision blurred, and took another few steps toward the door. He thought perhaps if he went and sat in the parlor awhile, his head would clear. He went into the hall, feeling his way, as it was easier to keep his eyes closed, and using the wall as a guide, went to the parlor. As the room was familiar, it didn’t take him long to find a chair and sit.
The house was quiet, and again he wondered what time it was. Flashes of light came and went, and he wondered if a lamp was burning. But no, a lamp wouldn’t do that, and he again forced his eyes to stay open so he could see where the light might be coming from.
But there was nothing. Only fragments of dark color and the trace outlines of the furniture around him. An odd panic began to set in, as he closed his eyes, opened them, and tried to focus once more. Darkness, flashes of light, the barest of outlines. He stilled himself and this time, listened. A dog barked in the distance, he heard the sound of a wagon passing in the street below, faint voices and a child’s laughter drifting up to him.
Lorcan froze. Those were day sounds. “Oh, Lord.” He shut his eyes tight, the only sound to reach him now that of his beating heart. He slowly opened them again, forced himself to see, but everything was the same. “Oh, God, no …”
Blind.
He stilled his breathing to calm himself. “Maither?” There was no answer. Were his parents asleep? Or down in the shop? How was he to know when he couldn’t see the light of day? For all he knew it was mid-afternoon not early morning. He felt off balance and gripped the arms of the chair to keep from falling. “Da?”
Still, no answer.
He wouldn’t panic, it had to be temporary, blindness after a fight often was. He’d known others who’d been injured during a bout and suffered the same thing. But what if … No! He wouldn’t think it, he couldn’t! He forced himself to stand, got his bearings as best he could. If he was going to get better he had to take care of himself, and that meant food and water. Since no one was here, he’d have to make do. Besides, he didn’t want to be waited on hand and foot by his mother as he convalesced. For one, she hadn’t the time.
Time. It had to be late morning. The smells of her baking were faint. She started her day at dawn, the baking finished before the shop opened. The house always smelled like cookies, but the early mornings were the most pungent. He felt his way to the kitchen, found the small table, reached for the plate he knew would be there. He sat again, unable to eat the cookie he’d taken, its taste sour. He had to get word to Doc Henderson, speak with him, find out his thoughts.
Lorcan leaned his head against the wall as he sat, his mind a war. What if …
* * *
Adaline couldn’t help but glance to the ceiling from time to time. Soon it would be lunchtime, and Mrs. Brody would go up to check on Lorcan. She’d prepare him some lunch, and suggested Adaline take a lunch break herself when she came back down to mind the shop, and wouldn’t she like to read to Lorcan for a bit?
Adaline smiled as she recalled Mrs. Brody’s mischievous smile when she’d said it. Of course she would! Yesterday had been wonderful, despite the circumstances. But in aiding him, and keeping him company, Adaline got a sweet taste of what it would be like to be with someone. To help them, live with them, care for them, love them … and after one taste, she wanted more.
She’d watched the Brody’s all morning in the shop, observing the couples’ inter-actions, the way they bantered and bickered with each other. She also notice the love in Mr. Brody’s eyes every time he looked at his wife, and her shy smile that sometimes turned to passionate fire. She’d not noticed such things before, probably because she never took the time to look. Adaline decide she’d study other couples to see if she saw the same things, and thought of Cyrus and Polly. They too, had their cute way of dealing with each other and interacting, and she smiled when she thought of the love they had in their eyes for each other.
Would she have love in her eyes like that one day? Or, if one were to judge from Polly’s remarks concerning Lorcan, was it already there? She gazed at the ceiling over-head. Yes, I think it is. Her stomach did a little flip with the thought.
“Adaline?” Mrs. Brody called across the shop. “Mind the store for me, will you, dearie? I’m off to get Lorcan his lunch. Mr. Brody has to pay a visit to the postmaster.”
Adaline smiled. “Of course, take your time.” She went to the counter and stepped behind it.
“We’ve sold out the goodies again,” Mrs. Brody commented happily.
Mr. Brody put on his hat. “That’s because the menfolk have been coming in for more than sweets, Mrs. Brody.” He looked at Adaline and winked.
“Well, they’ll have to settle for cookies and the occasional pie. Miss Dermont will have no part of them, will ye dearie?”
“Listen to you, putting words in the lass’s mouth. What if one comes to call?”
Mrs. Brody bristled. “Not while our Lorcan is upstairs needing a helping hand, and besides, we’re not blind! Ye can see what’s happening Mr. Brody, it’s as plain as the nose on yer face!”
He chuckled and looked at Adaline. “Lorcan may not have liked the idea of the two of us bringing ye here, but he’s coming around quick-like.”
“He … he is?” Adaline asked, trying to sound indi
fferent.
Mr. Brody laughed. “Yes, and ye can stop pretending ye aren’t doing the same thing. No sooner had ye left yesterday, he was asking when ye’d be back.”
Adaline blushed.
“Oh, there’s a good lass, pink cheeks are the sign of a pure heart,” Mrs. Brody said with a smile. “Now, you stay here, I’ll come down and take over just as soon as I can.”
She hurried to the stairs as Mr. Brody went for his coat. “I’m off too then. See to it Lorcan minds his manners. I’m sure he’s feeling better today.”
“Minds his manners?” Adaline asked, a hint of apprehension in her voice.
“Aye, after all, yer a mighty pretty girl, and … well … he’s got eyes!”
Adaline blushed again and smiled. “We could find a chaperone if you’d like.”
“We’ll get to that when the time comes, if there is time. That boy might up and marry you before the week is out!” He stuck his pipe in his mouth, winked again, and turned to leave.
Adaline sighed, her arms covered in gooseflesh from Mr. Brody’s words. She smiled in contentment and again glanced to the ceiling. “Mrs. Lorcan Brody … I think I like the sound of that.”
* * *
“I’m enjoying Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I’m so glad you gave it to me to read. I don’t know why I never read it before.”
Lorcan smiled at her words. He sat in his bed, his world a dark void but for the sound of her voice. He’d made his way back to his room earlier and replaced the bandages around his head and eyes as best he could. He didn’t want to panic his parents or Adaline until he heard what Doc Henderson had to say. Even if it was nothing, and his eyesight was back tomorrow, if he could spare the women hours of worry in the meantime, he would. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I certainly enjoyed listening to you read it.”
“I can read it again today. I brought it with me.”
There was eagerness in her voice, and he smiled, pleased with the sound. “Not today. I think something different is in order.”
