The Brickmaker's Bride

by Judith Miller

  Under other circumstances, Ewan might have spoken with more conviction. But after this morning’s debacle, he wondered if Winston was right. Once Laura learned Mr. Lofton hadn’t appeared and the brickyard was still in jeopardy, would she still consider a future with him? He wanted to believe it wouldn’t matter, yet he knew she was committed to the success of the brickyard. And there was no denying she was accustomed to a life of ease among the wealthy. He couldn’t expect her to marry him if they lost the brickyard.

  Panic and sadness took hold as he continued toward the hotel. If Mr. Lofton didn’t keep his word, how would they survive? He could seek work as a brick burner at one of the brickyards they’d surveyed during their journey to West Virginia, but he hadn’t come to America to work as a brick burner for the rest of his life. He’d never earn enough money to own his own business or give his sisters the life he’d promised them.

  “Pick your lip up off the ground, boy. We’ve got only two weeks, so we do na have time for sulking and cryin’ over spilt milk.” Hugh grasped Ewan by the arm. “Leave your horse. We need to make a stop before we head for home.”

  Side by side, the two of them walked the short distance to the telegraph office, where the operator prepared and sent a message to Mr. Lofton. Ewan’s insides roiled as he dictated the message. What if Mr. Lofton didn’t respond? Surely he’d intended to meet them, or he wouldn’t have made a reservation at the hotel. Ewan clung to that tiny thread of hope as they departed the office.

  His uncle donned his hat and straightened his shoulders as though nothing had gone amiss. “We should hear something back within the next couple of days. With the two weeks the bank gave us, there’s still plenty of time to get things settled before Winston comes knocking on our door with his legal papers.”

  His uncle’s affable conduct was so out of character that Ewan came to a halt. “Do ya not realize how serious this is, Uncle? What if Mr. Lofton has decided he doesn’t want to help us?”

  “Now don’t be talking such nonsense, Ewan. I don’t recall the last time I was so impressed by a man. I’m thinking he had some sort of urgent situation and missed his train. Once we hear from him, we’ll have the matter settled.” His uncle chuckled. “If not, I may have to break my word and go back to the gaming tables.” Ewan opened his mouth to protest, but his uncle held up his hand. “Don’t get yourself all riled up. I was only joking with ya.”

  Ewan gave his uncle a sideways glance. “I hope so, Uncle Hugh. The gaming tables will only cause more problems.” After mounting their horses, Ewan came alongside his uncle. “I think I’ll stop at the orphanage. Laura’s helping there this morning. She may have some idea of why Mr. Lofton didn’t appear.”

  Hugh nodded. “I might as well come along. I’d like to know what she has to say, as well.”

  “If she has any advice, I’ll stop by your house on my way home.” Ewan hoped to talk to Laura alone and discover whether this turn of events would affect their future. If Mr. Lofton didn’t pay off their debt, Ewan feared losing more than the brickyard. But broaching the subject of their future with Laura would be impossible if Uncle Hugh was at his side.

  “Na. ’Tis easier if I come along with ya. I’ve never been in the orphanage, so it will give me a chance to have a look at the place.”

  His uncle’s desire to look at the orphanage was as strange as his demeanor had been when they’d sent the telegram. Ewan considered questioning the inexplicable changes he’d observed in his uncle’s behavior but decided this wasn’t the right moment; he simply didn’t have the strength.

  The bell over the front door of the orphanage brought Mrs. Tremble scurrying to the entrance. She smiled at Ewan. “So good to have you with us again, Mr. McKay.” Though he’d only visited the orphanage with Laura on a couple of occasions, Mrs. Tremble greeted him as though he’d been a frequent visitor.

  She glanced in Hugh’s direction. “Good morning, sir. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sophia Tremble, the director of the orphanage.”

  “Hugh Crothers,” Hugh said with a smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Tremble.”

  “I was hoping to have a word with Laura, Mrs. Tremble. Is she in the other room?” Ewan glanced over the director’s shoulder.

  “She is. It’s story time, but I can get someone to take over for her. If you’ll wait for a moment, I’ll tell Laura you’re here.”

  Ewan nodded, but Uncle Hugh stepped forward. “I’d be pleased to have a look around, Mrs. Tremble. If it wouldn’t interfere too much.”

  Her lips curved in a warm smile. “We’re always pleased to have visitors view our facility, Mr. Crothers. Follow me.”

  Ewan stared after his uncle’s departing form. The man’s behavior continued to baffle him. Nothing he’d said or done throughout the morning fit his uncle’s usual character. It was as though Uncle Hugh had gone through some wonderful transformation. Had his uncle truly made a change, or was this merely an act of some sort?

  “Ewan! I didn’t expect to see you this morning.” Laura grinned. “And I certainly didn’t expect to see your uncle visiting with the children and touring the building. He seemed very interested. Perhaps Kathleen’s condition has caused him to think about fatherless children.”

  Ewan shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s come over him. Even with all our bad news, he’s been a different man this morning.”

  Laura glanced over her shoulder as she led him toward the simple wooden chairs that lined the stark room. “What bad news?” She frowned. “Did the bank attempt to add additional charges to your loan? If so . . .”

  He shook his head and met her puzzled gaze. “Nay. I wish it had been as simple as that.” For the next several minutes, Ewan detailed their meeting at the bank. As he spoke, he watched and weighed her every movement, hoping to distinguish what she was thinking, what all of this would mean for their future.

  “Now that you’ve sent the telegram, I don’t think there’s anything more that can be done except await Mr. Lofton’s response.” She reached forward and grasped Ewan’s hand. “I’m certain there’s some good reason why he didn’t appear. Mr. Lofton isn’t a man who goes back on his word.”

  “I’m not thinkin’ he is, but the fact remains that we have only two weeks. Do you think I should take the train to Wheeling?”

  “No. If need be, you can go to meet with him in Wheeling after you’ve received word back from him. Right now, I think it’s best to wait.”

  Her troubled countenance worried him. “And what if this arrangement with Mr. Lofton doesn’t take place? What happens to us if we lose the brickyard, Laura?”

  She stood and glanced toward the doorway as Mrs. Tremble and Hugh strode toward them. “We’re not going to even consider such an outcome, Ewan.”

  Moments later Uncle Hugh was at his side.

  There would be no further questions about the future today.

  Chapter 28

  Throughout the night, Ewan had prayed—and worried. He’d hoped to receive a telegram today, but none had been forthcoming. And there would be no telegram on Sunday—the telegraph office was closed.

  Sunday he sat in church, but in spite of the pastor’s sermon, he was unable to cast his cares upon the Lord. He tried. His desire still remained strong. Yet he simply couldn’t turn loose of the fears that besieged him at every turn. What if Mr. Lofton didn’t respond? What if Laura returned to Winston? What if the girls were relegated to a life no better than they’d left in Ireland? What if all the men who worked at the brickyard ended up jobless and unable to support their families? What if, what if, what if. His head throbbed with a thousand questions, but no answers.

  He and Uncle Hugh agreed that if they didn’t receive a return telegram by Wednesday, Ewan would travel to Wheeling. Ewan would have preferred to leave on Tuesday, but his uncle hadn’t agreed. “Give the man time to respond. I’m sure we’ll have word by Wednesday.”

  And though there hadn’t been word from Mr. Lofton himself, Uncle Hugh received a
telegram on Wednesday morning before Ewan departed for the train station. “Not the best news,” he said as he extended his hand and offered the telegram to Ewan.

  Ewan’s fingers trembled as he unfolded the piece of paper and read the contents. The blood rushed from his head, and he swayed for a moment before grasping the edge of the table. “What now? Am I still to go to Wheeling?”

  His uncle hesitated for only a moment. “Aye. ’Tis best for you to be there. If nothing changes by the middle of next week, I’ll seek Mrs. Woodfield’s help.”

  “Nay. You should go and talk to her today. We don’t know what the future holds. It will be better if we’re prepared. She may have some other plan to help us hold off the foreclosure.” The clock struck the hour and Ewan glanced toward the door. “I need to be on my way or I’ll miss the train.”

  When he arrived at the station, he was surprised to see Laura waiting for him.

  “I was hoping you’d heard from Herman and you wouldn’t appear,” she said.

  He forced a grim smile. “Uncle Hugh received a telegram early this morning from Mr. Lofton’s butler. While on the way to the train station on Thursday, Mr. Lofton suffered a seizure of some sort. He’s been unconscious since then.”

  Laura clasped a hand to her bodice. “How tragic. Mother will be devastated to hear this news.” She touched his hand. “This truly creates a difficult situation for you and your uncle. I’m glad you’re going to Wheeling. Be sure to send word of Mr. Lofton’s condition once you arrive.”

  The train chugged into the station, the wheels screeching on the iron rails as the brakes grabbed hold and brought the train to a halt. Laura remained at his side while he purchased his ticket. Together they walked to the platform.

  He longed to ask her what would happen between them if they didn’t find some way to save the brickyard, but the words stuck in his throat. Right now, he was afraid to hear her answer.

  Day after day, he visited Mr. Lofton’s hospital room. Day after day, Mr. Lofton’s condition remained the same. Ewan prayed, but he felt as though his prayers were no more than hollow words. Utterings that went no further than the four walls of the hospital room. Each day he’d sent a telegram to his uncle. Each day it said the same thing: No change. Tomorrow he would return to Bartlett. His uncle had sent instructions for him to return if there was no change by Monday evening.

  His hopes dashed, Ewan boarded the return train early Tuesday morning. He had hoped to carry some bit of encouraging news back home. Instead he would be the bearer of bad news. Uncle Hugh hadn’t mentioned any alternate plan, but he hoped his uncle would greet him with a solution to the pending disaster they would face on Friday morning. There was little doubt they would lose everything.

  Uncle Hugh was waiting when he stepped off the train. “Do ya have any good word for me, boy?”

  “Nay. I wish that I did, but Mr. Lofton was the same when I left him as the day I arrived. The doctor said he could be this way for months, but there’s always the chance he’ll wake up from his deep sleep at any moment. No one but the good Lord himself knows for sure.” Ewan sighed. “I hope you’ve come up with some other solution while I’ve been gone.” His uncle’s grim expression said it all. On Friday, they would lose everything. “Did you speak to Mrs. Woodfield? Did she have any ideas?”

  “We had a good talk and between us tried to come up with another way we might save the yard. She’s willing to go with us tomorrow and speak to Mr. Swinnen. She isn’t sure it will help, but I think we should accept the offer.” His uncle clapped him on the shoulder. “I haven’t been to the gaming tables, but there’s a game this evening. I think it’s our only chance.”

  Ewan shook his head. “I’d rather lose everything than have you go back to your old ways, Uncle Hugh. I think it might be better if we spend our night in prayer rather than at a card table.”

  The nighttime hours moved as slow as molasses in winter. Ewan paced the length of his small room and longed to find answers to the questions his sisters had asked upon his return. Were they going to return to a life of poverty? Would they have to leave Bartlett and Miss Laura? If so, where would they live? Would Uncle Hugh and Aunt Maggie be angry with them forever? Would Uncle Hugh have to move from his big house? They’d peppered him with question upon question until he’d retreated to his room with a throbbing headache.

  He’d finally dropped into bed, but the night had been fraught with nightmares that left him feeling as though he’d not slept at all. Dark circles rimmed his eyes when he entered the dining room the next morning.

  “What’s going to happen to us, Ewan?” Adaira met him in the doorway, her eyes shining with fear.

  He leaned down and embraced her in a tight hug. “I don’t know, Adaira, but you must remember that we are a family, and no matter what happens, we’ll be together. As long as we have each other, we can face whatever happens.”

  Ainslee rushed to her sister’s side. “What can we do to help, Ewan?”

  Their obvious desire to help touched him. “The very best thing you can do is pray that all goes well at our meeting this morning.”

  He ached to give them greater assurance, but how could he? At the moment, he feared his nightmares would become reality. Mrs. Woodfield’s offer to attend the meeting had given Uncle Hugh hope and encouragement, but Ewan didn’t share those feelings. She’d hold no sway over a banker set upon helping his stockholders, and her attendance would likely set Winston on edge. At first, Uncle Hugh had disagreed with Ewan’s assessment, but he finally relented. After all, there was little she could do. She’d secured help from Mr. Lofton. They should ask no more of her.

  Ewan insisted upon a stop at the telegraph office before going to the bank. “It makes little difference if we’re a few minutes late. It will change nothing, and I want to be certain no word was received from Mr. Lofton earlier this morning.”

  He’d done his best to keep his hopes tamped down, but when the telegraph operator smiled at him, he took it as a good sign. The man tipped his head. “Morning, Mr. McKay. I s’pose you and your uncle are still looking for a telegram from Wheeling.”

  “We are, and I hope that smile means you have a telegram for us.”

  The telegraph operator’s lips dipped into a frown. “I always smile at customers when they come in the front door, but that doesn’t mean I have a telegram for you. Truth is, I’ve not received any messages all morning.”

  Ewan’s chest caved as he let out a long sigh and turned to his uncle. “Let’s get this over with. No need to prolong the agony. It seems the Lord has said no to our prayers.”

  His uncle matched Ewan’s gait as the two men strode to the bank. “Aye, it would seem that way.” Hugh pulled out his pocket watch. “And to make matters worse, we’re five minutes late. Winston will be in a foul mood for sure.”

  A clerk stood near the front door waiting to escort them into Mr. Swinnen’s office. He tugged on his vest and shot a disapproving look at Ewan. “You’re late. You’ve kept Mr. Swinnen and the others waiting.”

  Ewan hadn’t taken note of the clerk’s reference to the “others” until he entered the bank president’s office. There was a stranger seated across the desk from Mr. Swinnen. Ewan had never before seen the man. Was this then the man interested in purchasing the brickyard?

  Hugh stepped into the room behind Ewan and glanced around. “Who have we here? I don’t believe I know this gentleman.”

  The small-framed man popped to his feet and extended his hand. “Edward Glasco, Mr. Crothers.” He nodded at Ewan. “You must be Mr. McKay.”

  “Aye, that I am,” Ewan said. “Have you been invited to this meeting for some special reason, Mr. Glasco?”

  Winston glanced back and forth between Ewan and Mr. Glasco. “We didn’t invite him, and he won’t tell us why he’s here. We assumed you’d invited him.”

  “I’m Mr. Lofton’s secretary. He instructed me to come here on his behalf.”

  Ewan drew close to Mr. Glasco. “How is Mr. Lofto
n’s health? When I was in Wheeling—”

  “Mr. Lofton is doing much better, but obviously his physician advised against traveling. He’s been most concerned about your circumstances. He read the letter you left for him at the hospital and was thankful you’d received the additional time to pay your debt.” Mr. Glasco reached into his breast pocket and withdrew an envelope. “He asked that I deliver this to you.” He extended the envelope. “That concludes my business here, so if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’d like to catch the next train to Wheeling.”

  Mr. Swinnen and Winston both remained silent until Mr. Lofton’s secretary exited the room, and then both turned toward Ewan. Winston pointed to the envelope. “What’s this about? Did Laura and her mother convince Herman Lofton to come to your aid?”

  Ewan reached into the envelope, withdrew the bank draft, and handed it to his uncle. Hugh gave a firm nod, then handed the draft to Mr. Swinnen. “I believe that concludes our business, gentlemen. You can now set aside your concerns over the brickyard.”

  Hugh nudged Ewan as they departed the bank. “You were wrong about that answer, my boy—and so was I, but I have to say the good Lord sure did make us wait for His answer this time!”

  Chapter 29

  January 1870

  Using the arm of the divan to help propel her forward, Kathleen struggled to stand. The girl’s swollen feet would no longer fit into anything other than a pair of soft slippers Laura had knit for her. “The doctor says this swelling isn’t a good sign, and I shouldn’t use salt on my food, but even that hasn’t helped.”

  Laura offered a slight smile. Kathleen’s feet looked like overstuffed sausages ready to burst from their casings. “Perhaps you should prop up your feet. Did the doctor mention anything other than decreasing salt?”