Uncertain Alliance

by Davis, Mary

He gazed at her, willing her to accept his offer, to accept him.

  She looked away. “Thank you for your offer, but I don’t think I could do it. I’m not skilled for that kind of work.” There was a quaver in her voice.

  Should he insist or let it go? Before he could decide, a hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turned to face Mr. Greig.

  “Let me walk you out.”

  Was he being kicked out?

  “Mrs. Dempsey, thank you once again for dinner.” He turned and followed the old men to the door.

  Burl jumped up from where he sat on the floor. “Can I go?”

  Mr. Greig must have given the boy some kind of look Ian couldn’t see, because Burl sat back down.

  He took the stairs slowly and helped to support Mr. Greig. Once outside, Finn excused himself and ambled on down the street.

  When Mr. Greig shuffled his feet to start walking. Ian stepped in front of him to block his progress and smiled. “Let’s not pretend you really want to take a stroll. You shouldn’t be out in this damp cold. You must have something important to say to me in private.”

  Mr. Greig chuckled. “You’re more perceptive than I give most folks credit.”

  He nodded. His grandmother always said he had a special insight about things like that. It wasn’t infallible, but he was usually dead on, and it helped him in discerning what his customers needed. If it only would help him where Alice was concerned. “It didn’t go so well up there.”

  “It went better than I had hoped.”

  The older man obviously had a different idea of success than he did. He’d had hopes that this dinner would be the start of a relationship with Alice, but instead, she didn’t seem to want him around and certainly didn’t want his job offer. “You wanted me to make a fool of myself?”

  “You are no fool.”

  “I certainly didn’t impress anyone.”

  “You impressed me.”

  He didn’t see how. “Was it my staring at her son like an imbecile? Or when I fought for the crate and injured her?”

  “Actually both. I wasn’t sure if you knew about Burl or Miles. You knew about Burl from Mr. Jackson, but Miles was a surprise to you. You rose to the occasion. I was impressed when you let Miles on your lap.”

  “He’s a cute little tyke.” He wanted desperately to ask about Mr. Dempsey. “And how could my stealing the crate from your granddaughter and injuring her impress you?”

  “You were trying to be a gentleman and let Alice have the better seat, but she was less than cooperative. The slivers were her own doing, but you made sure her hand was properly cared for.”

  Amazing. He’d actually made a good impression on Mr. Greig even with his fumbling through the meal. “I don’t think”—he didn’t want to say missus aloud again—“your granddaughter saw any of it that way.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. What I’m about to tell you stays between the two of us. Don’t ever tell Alice I spilled the beans.”

  Ian nodded his consent.

  “Alice’s husband was a bad egg. He charmed her, and I’m sorry to say that he charmed me as well. Soon after they were married, he began to show himself for who he truly was. By then it was too late, and Alice was with child. He gambled and drank away everything we had.”

  Ian wasn’t sure why Mr. Greig was telling him, but he had to know. “What happened to him?”

  “He cheated in a card game and was shot and killed, but by then we had nothing left and had to leave the farm I had worked hard to pay for when I first came to the area. She feels responsible for us losing it all. It wasn’t her fault. Oscar had two faces. He showed us the one we wanted to see. I should have recognized it from the start.”

  “So she’s not still mourning his passing?” The bold question was out before he could stop it, but he wasn’t sorry he’d asked. He needed to know where Alice’s heart lay.

  “If she wasn’t a Christian, she’d be cursing him every day. She doesn’t talk about him or let anyone else talk about him. She mourns the loss of my farm.”

  Ian’s heart went out to Alice for the life she had lost because of her husband and the life she now endured because of him. She had suffered much at such a young age but stood proud and strong. He wanted to take away all her hardships and pain. “Why have you confided all this to me?”

  “If you’re interested in courting my granddaughter, I want you to know. Now that you do and have seen how we live, you may not be so interested.”

  “I am more interested. Before she was little more than a beautiful woman to me. When I spoke to her, I knew she was sweet and seemed gentle. Now I–I’m in awe. She works so hard to put food on the table for all of you and a roof over your heads.” Words could not convey his feelings and respect for Alice.

  “I’d help if I could.” Mr. Greig held up his stump arm. “This old body’s giving out on me.”

  “She wouldn’t want you to.” He paused. “I offered her a job.”

  “She turned you down.”

  “You heard.”

  Mr. Greig shook his head. “She doesn’t want to be beholden to any man ever again. Knows you are different from other employers who are men. Whether she will admit it or not, she knows you have feelings for her. She won’t give in to that easily. Her stubborn Scottish pride. You’d have a better chance of her inviting you over for supper than her accepting your job offer.”

  Why? It didn’t have to be that way. “I just want to help.”

  “She’s been hurt real bad. She’ll need a lot of patience.” Mr. Greig thumped his fist on his chest and coughed.

  “You’d better get inside. Make some of that tea, rub the ointment on your chest, and rest. I’ll come by later in the week to see how you’re doing.”

  “And to see Alice.”

  He had to smile. “Good day, Mr. Greig.”

  “Call me Arthur.” The old man shook his hand then went inside.

  He followed him in and helped him up the stairs.

  Arthur smiled and spoke in Gaelic. “You are a good man.”

  He thanked him in Gaelic and left. Instead of heading home, Ian went to his store in hopes of talking to Conner. The door was locked and the inside was dark. Conner must have gone out. He walked around the store to see all that the Lord had blessed him with. Far more than Mrs. Dempsey and her family. He moved a jar. There was enough dirt and dust behind it to grow a small garden. This would be a job that Mrs. Dempsey could do. Neither he nor Conner had the time to do this work.

  He walked into the storeroom that was not Conner’s living quarters. The crate with the medicines from Captain Carlyle’s ship sat unopened. He’d told Conner to leave it for him, that he would unpack it. Conner was very conscientious when it came to the drugs he sold.

  He searched for the crowbar to pry off the top of the crate. A rat scurried from behind an empty crate, rose up on his haunches, and scolded him with a raspy squeak.

  “There you are. I’m going to get you once and for all.” With one eye on the pest, he grabbed a broom and took a step.

  The beady-eyed rodent darted down and ran for the darkest corner.

  He gave chase, knocking over empty crates and bruising his foot on a heavy one in his haste. He jammed the broom into the corner and pushed boxes out of the way. There was no way it was getting away this time. He ran around the room, tipping over empty crates. He cornered it behind a packing keg, aimed his weapon, and lunged.

  It squealed and darted between his legs.

  Spinning around, he came face-to-face with Conner holding a raised board in his hand.

  Conner gasped. “You scared the tar out of me! I thought someone had broken in, except a thief wouldn’t be making so much noise.”

  “I was trying to get the fool rat.”

  “You mean Vern.”

  He scowled. “You named it?”

  “I’ve been trying to trap him for weeks. He’s smarter than two rats combined. He gets the bait without springing the trap.”

  �
��So you named it?”

  “I was trying to make friends with him, get him to trust me. Then just when he was feeling safe—bam!” Conner slammed a fist into his palm. “I’d grab him.”

  “Is it working?”

  Conner shook his head. “He’s too smart for that.”

  He sighed. “So how are we going to get rid of him?”

  Conner smiled and held up a finger. “I have just the thing. I’m done being nice.”

  Ian followed Conner out into the main part of the store. Tied up by the door sat a little brown dog with muddy fur and a yellow puddle on the floor next to it.

  “I’ll take care of that.” Conner picked up the scruffy dog. “Terriers are good ratters. Within a week, we’ll no longer have a rat problem.”

  “I hope so.” He scratched the dog behind the ear, and it licked his hand. “Does he have a name?”

  “She. I’ve named her Fred.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “For a girl?”

  Conner shrugged. “Sure. She seems to like it.” He looked down at the dog. “Don’t you, Fred?” Fred tipped her head back and licked his chin.

  “Where did you get a mongrel like her?”

  “Most people see a useless mongrel, but I don’t think so. She needs a home, and we need one less rat in this store. Let’s see if she can sniff out our little problem.” He set the dog on the floor inside the storeroom. “Can you smell it, girl? Go get Vern.”

  Fred looked up at him, whined, and sat on Conner’s boot.

  “I’ll train her.”

  “Are you also going to give her a bath?” The dog was cute but had a bit of an odor about her.

  “I’ll take care of her. I hear tell the city is paying ten cents a dead rat. Just bring ’em the tail. Before long, Fred’ll be able to earn her keep.” He picked up the dog, scratching her behind the ear. “Since we aren’t open and you don’t usually come in on Sundays, I will assume you came from Miss Dempsey’s. How did it go?”

  Ian groaned thinking about the fiasco. “I felt like a log sliding in the mud down Skid Road toward the frigid waters of Puget Sound.”

  “That bad?”

  “Mr. Greig failed to warn his granddaughter I was coming.” He figured that was a calculated move on Arthur’s part, but he wasn’t sure if it was to see Ian’s reaction or to avoid giving his granddaughter a chance to bow out of the meal.

  “Was she mad?” Conner shifted Fred to his other arm.

  “If she was, she hid it well. She was surprised and a little flustered. I, on the other hand, behaved wretchedly. Her grandfather’s friend was there—”

  “That’s good. He liked you.”

  A small consolation. “I met her brother, Burl.”

  “He’s kind of a cute kid. Did you get on well with him?”

  “He asked a lot of questions about my business. He seemed real interested.”

  “It sounds as though things went well. I don’t see any problems.”

  Ian leaned on the broom he still held. “Then she introduced me to her three-year-old son, Miles.” He’d never imagined her with a child. Now he couldn’t picture her without him.

  Conner’s brown eyes widened. “She’s married?”

  “Widowed.” But he couldn’t tell Conner that whole story.

  Conner raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

  “No. But I just stared at her child as though he were a raccoon or something. It was so unexpected, I didn’t know what to say.”

  “After that you improved, right?”

  “Until we sat down to eat, or tried to sit down. We fought over who was going to sit on the crate. She wanted her guests and her grandfather to have the three chairs. As a gentleman, I couldn’t let her sit on the crate.” Some gentleman he’d been.

  Conner was grimacing. “Who won?”

  “No one. I ended up taking the crate from her. Gave her four slivers in her fingers, but I forcibly removed them.” He gave Conner a wry smile.

  “Forcibly?”

  “She didn’t want me to.” He poked his chest with his thumbs. “But I insisted. Then at the table, her grandfather and I started speaking in Gaelic, excluding everyone else. She wasn’t too happy about that.”

  “The time was not wasted entirely. The grandfather likes you now, his friend likes you, and it sounds like Burl likes you. How did her son react?”

  “Shy at first; then he climbed into my lap.” The boy was adorable and looked like his mother. He was glad of that. To look at Miles and see characteristics that would have to be attributed to the child’s no-good father would be hard.

  “It sounds like you won everyone over.”

  “Except Mrs. Dempsey.” He sighed. “I offered her a job.”

  “Are you planning on getting rid of me soon?”

  “If I could keep you in my employ indefinitely, I would, but I know you have plans of your own that will take you beyond Seattle. You’ve incorporated some good ideas into the store. You’ll do well in your own business one day. I have money enough to support two employees. Have you seen the dirt and dust on the back of some of those shelves?”

  Conner rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been meaning to get to that.”

  “It’s a job Alice could easily do.” He finally leaned the broom against the storage room wall and stepped out of the room.

  Fred wiggled, and Conner set her on the floor. “Will she be in tomorrow?”

  He shook his head. “She turned it down.”

  “Did she find another position?”

  “No. She just doesn’t want to work for me.” And he couldn’t understand why when she needed a job. Her husband’s betrayal must have cut deep.

  “If she doesn’t find another job, she’ll come here.” Conner gave him an encouraging nod.

  “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  “Maybe the grandfather will talk sense into her. You could speak to him.” Conner filled a bucket with water and grabbed a couple of rags and headed for Fred’s accident by the front door.

  He would wait a couple of days then he would speak to Arthur. Arthur might be able to talk her into it, help her see the logic in it.

  Six

  Alice pulled her crocheted shawl closer, covering the bundle she held tight to her chest, then stepped out into the pouring rain. Her straw hat afforded her little protection. It had rained steadily for three days and off and on for three weeks. The ground couldn’t soak up any more water.

  She dipped her head and scurried through the mud. She came to a puddle that spanned the street and was fifty feet long. She knew this was a low point. It often pooled but not usually to this extent. A boy of about nine, sitting on a crude raft of large sticks, paddled his way across the murky water. That was not an option for her. She went a block up, dodging several smaller puddles still substantial in their own right.

  She wound her way to the street she was looking for. The looming edifice of the mansion was more intimidating this time than the last time she was here. She felt small and wanted to turn back, but she knew she couldn’t. They’d eaten the last of the food for breakfast. She’d worked late into the night to finish this new sewing the minister had directed her toward so she’d have money to buy food.

  Brick and columns greeted her, but she knew enough not to dare enter that way. She hurried around back and knocked on the kitchen door.

  A tall woman with a big frame and fading blond hair opened the door. “Mercy, child, come in. You’ll catch your death out there.”

  She stepped inside, dripping and shivering. January rains were the coldest. “I brought Mrs. Rush’s sewing.” Her teeth clicked against each other.

  “What are you doing out on a day like this? You’ll catch your death.” The woman wiped her hands on her white apron. “Come stand by the stove.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to dirty up your kitchen.”

  “Fiddlesticks.” The woman took her by the arm and drew her toward the warmth. She took the package
wrapped in soggy brown paper and set it on the table. Next she took Alice’s shawl and short jacket. “Don’t you move from that stove. I’ll be right back.”

  She huddled as close to the stove as she could without getting burned. Lord, please protect my health. I can’t afford to get sick.

  The woman returned. “It’ll just be a moment. I’m Marjorie.”

  “Alice.” Her teeth had stopped chattering.

  Marjorie poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “This’ll warm you up from the inside.”

  Alice wrapped her hands around the warm china and sipped the brew. This was the second time in less than a week. “Thank you.”

  A woman with graying black hair came in. “I’m Sally. What’s your business here?”

  “I brought Mrs. Rush’s sewing. I finished it right up and brought it straightaway.”

  Sally and Marjorie exchanged a look. Sally pointed to the soggy bundle on the table. “Let me see what you did for her.”

  Alice spread out the walking suit and showed Sally where she’d repaired the hem and reattached the three buttons. Then she showed her the blouses. “Mrs. Rush gave me fabric to make a blouse just like this one.”

  Sally smiled in a sad way. “You do fine work.” She scooped up the clothes. “Stay here while I go see Mrs. Rush.” She turned to Marjorie. “Get her some tea.”

  “I already poured her coffee.”

  “Then get her a biscuit and open a jar of apple butter.” Sally left through the swinging door.

  Neither Sally nor Marjorie had been there when she’d come before. Whether it was their day off or they were out running errands she couldn’t say, but she was glad for their hospitality now.

  Marjorie set a china plate with a biscuit on the table. “Sit.” Then she popped open a fresh jar and set it on the table.

  How long had it been since she’d had apple butter? She opened her biscuit and spread a thin layer of preserve on it, then just stared at it. How could she indulge while her family went without?

  Marjorie sat with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Is there something wrong, dear?”

  She shook her head. “I was just wondering how long it’s been since I’ve had apple butter.” Or any preserves.