Fergus' Honor (Grooms With Honor Book 2)

by Linda K. Hubalek

  Fergus looked at each of his brother's faces, each showing a different emotion.

  Mack, of course giddy that he'd caught Fergus unaware. Cullen impatient because it should have been obvious it was the best way to protect Iris.

  And Angus? He had this dreamy look...well, he was a newlywed so he was thinking of his own happy bride waiting for him at home.

  "Courtship. Time. And planning a wedding usually come before the vows in front of the altar," Fergus argued.

  "You spent time alone traveling here from Nebraska," Angus spoke, holding up one finger. Fergus knew what alone time meant to Angus and his bride right now.

  "You've been together long enough to know you're compatible as a couple and working together," Cullen added, holding up two fingers.

  "And your third argument," Mack held up three fingers. "Ma and her cohorts can plan a wedding in three hours. Dress, cake, flowers. Done."

  "Add a few hours to your mother's time frame if you want word spread around the county for people to attend," Pa added, standing behind Mack.

  "What are you doing here?" Fergus ignored the four of them shooting down his arguments.

  "Daisy came over as we were finishing our meal and said the four of you were eating at the café. Your ma shooed me out of the house before I could eat dessert, so you owe me a piece of pie, Fergus."

  Pa pulled a chair away from a vacant table and sat down on it at the end of their table.

  "I assume you're discussing Iris' situation since you're talking about a wedding?"

  "Since everyone else has put in their two cents, what are your thoughts, Pa?" Fergus just as well hear it now.

  "Do you want advice from your father or your pastor?" Pa leveled his gaze on Fergus, making his squirm in his chair.

  "Who gives the best advice?" Fergus countered back.

  "Just two different viewpoints are all. As your father, I've always told you to protect others. As a pastor, I'd want to be sure you could say the marriage vows and mean you'll honor them forever. Loving a person through hard times is a challenge. And I'd hate for you to start your marriage without you both loving each other first."

  "Amen to that, Pastor," Nolan added as he set a cup of coffee and a plate with a generous cherry pie wedge in front of their father.

  "Holly and I are challenged daily with life situations, both here at the café and at home living with my grandparents. And we'll soon be adding an infant to the family. If we didn't love and lean on each other constantly..." Nolan shook his head. "Make sure you ask the right woman to be your wife, Fergus. I did, but it comes with a price. Holly's half-breed background will always haunt us, but I'll always love and protect her, because she was the right woman for me, no matter the color of her skin or background."

  Nolan gave the best advice of anyone around the table, because he married a woman with different color skin than his own.

  Iris' skin was light, but her eyes and hair made a person wonder about her heritage. And their children could show the same traits too.

  Did it bother Fergus? Honestly? He pictured Iris and thought of her smile and kind eyes. No, as he'd told her before, it didn't matter if her skin was purple. Fergus was falling in love with Iris.

  Chapter 10

  "Are you enjoying your work, Iris?" Daisy asked before taking another sip of tea. Since Pastor left the dining room, the conversation had turned to her, which was all right. Kaitlyn was a wonderful "mother hen" type of person and Daisy would easily become a friend if Iris stayed in Clear Creek.

  Staying in town and working with Fergus all depended on if Morris found out where she was hiding.

  "I do. It's fascinating to see the image on the glass plate convert to a clear image on a piece of paper. And the subject matter of the portraits and the story behind them is equally so interesting."

  "In what way?" Daisy inquired.

  "Yesterday Fergus developed a portrait of four young women proudly standing outside in front of their sod house. In his notes, he wrote 'four claims, one house.' When I asked about it, he told me the four women had each filed a claim for one hundred and sixty-acres, and the house was positioned so it sat on all four corners of their lands. Each claim has to have a house with one glass window on it...so the four women live together and all have a 'house' on their claim."

  "Ingenious! Leave it up to women to think of that," Kaitlyn laughed.

  "And brave enough to live out in the middle of nowhere by themselves." Daisy saluted in the air with her teacup.

  "Almost all of the homestead portraits Fergus took have the house, livestock, and everything they own in the scene. I can't believe how few possessions these people are surviving with." Iris shook her head, thinking of the photographs where the children looked too thin and the mothers stressed from the harsh life they had to lead.

  "Only out of curiosity, what was your home life like, Iris?" Daisy asked as if she was genuinely interested.

  "I grew up on a horse farm outside of Louisville, Kentucky. You know my father owned the farm but I wasn't considered a part of the family. I lived in an upstairs servant's room of the plantation house. I worked but did receive an education, unlike so many workers who lived on the land.

  "I look at these homesteader's portraits and realize I didn't have a bad upbringing, it was just that I..."

  "Felt unloved?" Daisy gently finished her question.

  "And also unwanted, but only after my mother died. She pined for her husband and son, making me feel like I wasn't as important even though I was with her."

  "Children pick up on those things, knowing how it makes them feel, even though they don't understand it until they are older." Kaitlyn's sad smile told she knew of it in her past, or because of another family.

  "I'm thinking of Cullen. The neglected child grew up in the shadowed recesses of a brothel, watching his mother deal with drama and pain daily. That's what makes him leery of commitment and women now," Kaitlyn concluded shaking her head.

  "Maybe we should order a bride for Cullen," Daisy raised her eyebrows and grinned at her mother-in-law. Both laughed, apparently thinking of what Cullen would say about a bride showing up expecting him to marry her.

  Iris loved the feeling of companionship which the two women shared, and longed to be included within their family circle. Would there ever be a chance Fergus would ask her to be his wife?

  "Signing up to be a mail-order bride is a huge risk. I was too young and naïve to think I could cross the sea and immediately have a great husband and life," Kaitlyn confided.

  "But you have a wonderful and loving marriage with Pastor," Daisy laid a hand on Kaitlyn's arm to enforce the point.

  "I do now but the beginning was very hard for so many reasons. I left my family, country and customs behind, not having a clue it would be so different in America. And the homesickness...I can still tear up thinking about 'home' almost twenty years later."

  Iris didn't think that was possible, but she did miss the Kentucky landscape, the staff at the plantation house, and the few friends she had.

  "And Pastor was still grieving for his first wife, the boys for their mother. And I arrived in town with two more lost little boys." Kaitlyn shook her head, lost in her thoughts. "Did I mention I couldn't cook either?"

  Iris couldn't help smiling, thinking of the love Pastor, and her sons had for her now and her meals.

  "I screamed and cried in my apron so many times those first months, it was always damp."

  Daisy started to giggle, and then her voice turned into a full belly laugh. "I can just see you doing that! The pranks we kids used to pull around town must have had you at your wit’s end..." was all Daisy got out before laughing again.

  "Don't mind Daisy, Iris. She was a tomboy from the beginning, always running around with her brother, Nolan, and my boys, and always in the thick of scuffs and trouble. But I knew back then she and Angus would be friends, and possibly more, for life."

  "But look how long it finally took us to get back together. Eight y
ears!" Daisy lamented.

  "You both needed to experience life outside of Clear Creek. And then when you did meet again, you were adults, ready to start the next phase of your friendship," Kaitlyn emphasized.

  Iris glanced over to Daisy, realizing a blush was creeping up Daisy neck, heading for her hairline. Iris bit her lip, not wanting to think about the newlyweds, as Daisy was apparently thinking about her husband.

  Iris took a deep breath, willing to be brave enough to ask an important question of Fergus' mother and sister-in-law. "Do you think I'm worthy enough to have a chance with Fergus?" She held her breath waiting for their positive or negative reactions.

  Both turned to stare at her and Iris wanted to take back her question.

  "Iris," Kaitlyn reached for Iris' hand and held it between hers, "Patrick and I have done our best to raise our sons to be honorable men. You saw his character when he rescued you, and brought you home."

  Was Kaitlyn saying she wasn't good enough for her son, since he had to help her when she'd lost all hope in her situation with Morris?

  "I want the best for my son, but I'll never interfere with his choice of wife. I can tell he's interested in you. You two get along well, both in the studio and other times."

  But...Iris was afraid of what Kaitlyn was going to say next.

  "But first you have to feel worthy for yourself, not just Fergus. Your past shaped who you are now, but you can become who you want to be for your future."

  Daisy laid her hand on Iris' forearm. "Holly and Linnea hit hard times before moving to Clear Creek. But, they overcame their problems and now have solid marriages, besides becoming involved to the community."

  Daisy looked at Kaitlyn, and Fergus' mother added, "We'd love to help you too, but you have to believe in yourself first. It doesn't matter what color your eyes, skin, or hair are, and no one has the right to judge another because of it. But, there will always be prejudiced people in the world. If and when that happens, you need to learn to stand tall so the hurtful words bounce off you, your husband, and your future children."

  I wouldn't care if your skin were light purple and your hair bright blue.

  Fergus' words came to mind and she knew she had a chance with him, if she accepted herself and didn't let the words and looks of others bother her.

  "I want to be a person Fergus is proud of and can depend on." There, she said it aloud. That was the first step, right?

  Kaitlyn squeezed her hand before letting go. "Then I hope I can plan another wedding in the near future."

  ***

  The crash of broken glass stopped Fergus as he was about to light a lamp in the workroom of the studio. Where did it come from? It wasn't close by, but the sound was distinct. It didn't sound like someone threw a bottle against a wall and it shattered. More like a...window.

  Fergus rushed back to the front door of the studio which he'd just entered. He jerked the door open to stick his head outside to look both ways down the street, scanning both sides of the boardwalk. No one was walking in either direction.

  The noise came from the west, so Fergus cautiously stepped on the boardwalk, shutting the door behind him.

  All businesses' windows and doors were intact until he came to Tolbert's Barbershop. Shattered glass from the front door littered the snow beneath it, and smoke was slowly curling out the gaping hole in the top of the broken door window.

  There was a fire inside the barbershop! The whole block of businesses and apartments above, could engulf in flames in minutes!

  "Fire! Fire in the barbershop! Get out! Fire! Fire!" Fergus yelled at the top of his lungs as he reared back to kick the doorframe. He didn't want to crawl through the broken window if he didn't have to.

  The third kick still didn't make the door budge, so he used his elbow to break the rest of the glass, hoping the jagged edges didn't cut through his coat.

  Once the glass was clear of the window frame he reached his right hand inside, fumbling to find the latch or key that held the door locked. His fingers finally found a latch and twisted it sideways. Fergus used his left hand to try the door handle and it opened, but broken glass piled on the floor below the inside of the door hindered it from opening easily. Fergus shoved hard to get the door wide enough to get inside the shop.

  "Fire! Fire!" he yelled again before taking a deep breath and plunging in the smoky interior to find the source of the flames. If someone threw a rock or brick with a kerosene soaked rag—now on fire—tied around it, could he find it and kick it out? That’s the only connection he could think that resulted in a broken window and an immediate fire inside a closed building.

  The smoke muffled the shouts outside the building as he held the collar of his coat across his nose. He inched forward toward the bright flames glowing against the base of the wooden counter behind the barber's chair. It was still a small fire but it could whoosh up the wall in the next second. He needed a bucket, or something to put over the fire to smother it. If someone threw a bucket of water against it right now, it would instantly spread the fuel-induced fire around the room, and him.

  Fergus quickly felt along the far end of the counter top, remembering Tolbert usually had an enamel wash pan sitting somewhere ready to use. Bottles, mugs and brushes, tilted and fell over as he fumbled in the hazy darkness of the room. Fergus felt the rim of the metal pan, almost knocking it off before he could grab it.

  Coughing wracked his lungs as he neared the flames. Would the basin be big enough to cover the brick or rock used to start this fire?

  Fergus rushed to the flames with the overturned pan in both hands. He felt the heat wave over his face and hands as he pushed the pan over the flames. He jerked upright and sideways away from the pan before stomping the pan with his boot, trying to seal the pan's edge to the floor to starve the oxygen to the fuel. Smoke and flames continued to curl from underneath the pan as he shoved the pan with his boot heel toward the door.

  "Wait! I need sand! Don't throw water!" Fergus wasn't sure if the people outside could hear him since he'd covered his nose and mouth with his coat collar, but he sure hoped so. He could still go up in flames, along with the block of wooden structures, if someone inflamed the fire before he could kick it outside.

  Light from lanterns lit his way to the front door. Mack's panicked face was the first Fergus saw as he made it to the entrance.

  "I got a kerosene fire under this pan! Douse it with sand!" Fergus croaked as loud as he could considering smoke filled his lungs.

  "Jump out! I’ll take care of it!" Mack reached out his hand to Fergus even though they were feet apart from each other. Mack’s eyes reflected the terror in his own eyes. Could he get over the threshold before the fire erupted around him?

  “Jump!” Mack’s urgent demand seemed to come from a distant place as the smoke overcame him.

  Catching sight of Iris and his mother in the background pushed Fergus’ feet to action. He couldn’t let the two women he loved see him perish in a fire.

  *

  “Marshal, I want you to arrest Fergus for arson!” Mr. Tolbert yelled as he pushed his way through the crowd. Fergus sat on a bench two doors down from the barbershop with his family surrounding him. Between fits of coughing, he’d been telling Marshal Wilerson everything he could think of about the fire.

  Mack, squatting down beside the bench, rose up to his full height and took a giant step to stand over Tolbert. “If Fergus hadn’t heard the brick going through the window, you wouldn’t have a shop and livelihood, so you better thank him for risking his life for you instead!”

  “Mack, back down.” Their pa pulled Mack’s arm to make him step back from the enraged man.

  “Fergus is mad at us because my wife pointed out his employee is a mulatto! He threw that fire bomb!” Tolbert yelled back.

  Fergus felt Iris’ fingers tighten around his forearm. She hadn’t let go of him since he escaped out of the building.

  “Tolbert, you know Fergus would never do that. Why don’t you go check out your build
ing? I think the smoke has cleared out enough it’s safe to enter,” the marshal tried to defuse the situation. Tolbert’s narrowed eyes flashed his disagreement but he pushed through the crowd back to his shop door.

  Fergus closed his eyes and rested his head back against the bench. Even though they were outside in the winter night air, his throat and eyes still felt burned raw.

  “Go home with your parents and let your ma tend to your face, Fergus. Your face is bright red and your eyebrows and hair are singed,” Marshal directed them.

  “What about the fire damage?” Fergus croaked, realizing the few words took effort to say.

  “We’ll take care of it and look around for any evidence that might still be seen. I’m afraid everybody’s been walking around on the boardwalk in front of the store and has covered any tracks that could have given us a clue.”

  A clue? A vision of something by the door caught his eye when he first walked to the barbershop, but now he couldn’t think what it was.

  “Men will keep watch over the buildings tonight to be sure nothing else happens downtown. Thanks for saving the block, Fergus. It could have been a disaster of lost buildings and even some lost lives if you hadn’t investigated and acted quickly.”

  Fergus nodded as he stood to go. The adrenaline rush of the fire had worn off and all he wanted to do was get out of his smoky clothes and get some sleep.

  “I’m all right. I’ll go back to my apartment,” Fergus waved off his parents’ concern.

  “Please, come back to the parsonage, Fergus,” Iris pleaded. He stopped to look down at her and realized there was fear for him in her dark eyes.

  And maybe love?

  Chapter 11

  "How’s it going?" Fergus asked Iris as he leaned over her shoulder to look at the photographs he'd laid out on the worktable ten minutes ago. Iris sat at the table, comparing notes in the ledger to the portraits to match up the names and the addresses needed to mail the photographs.

  Just a few inches separated her face from his. Did she dare turn her head to stare into his eyes, at his lips? The mutual attraction had been building between them since the fire in the barbershop more than a week ago.