Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

  “Why would you take an interest in Bartholomew Bouchard’s wedding?” Gabriel asked. “He seems beneath your notice.”

  “Bart has always been like a trainable puppy, and I’ve found him a delightful source of information since he arrived in Montana.” His smile broadened as Gabriel frowned. “You can’t imagine he sought out the cripple’s attention because he actually craved her affection?” He snorted derisively. “Only your pathetic brother-in-law seems fascinated by her.”

  “Why harm her?” Gabriel tilted his head as he studied his cousin. “She’s done nothing to you.”

  “All women are a means to an end, dear cousin. Even you must know that.” He crossed his thin legs and smiled at the passing porter. By all outward appearances, a successful businessman had deigned to have a conversation with a laborer. “Your wife understands that, even though she clings to her illusions about suffrage for women.”

  “It’s not an illusion,” Gabriel hissed. “Women vote in Montana.”

  Henry shrugged his shoulders. “And what great effect has it had on the state?”

  Gabriel leaned forward, his blue eyes gleaming with enmity. “Soon you will not be able to buy a drink.” He frowned as Henry rolled his eyes.

  “You don’t expect Butte to follow that law, do you?” He shook his head as he stared at Gabriel. “You can’t be that innocent to believe that they’d allow over two hundred businesses to lose their livelihood overnight. Or for the owners to lose a way to keep the men docile?”

  Gabriel’s jaw ticked as he stared at his cousin. “No great change will occur in Montana until the Company ceases meddling in every aspect of our lives.”

  Henry smiled. “The Company has the power and the fortitude to wield it. And it will be a long time before anyone in Montana stands up to us.” He shrugged before his smile turned calculating. “I was delighted to hear that Jeremy’s wife might die with the birth of their child. It always brings such comfort to know that you pathetic McLeods continue to suffer.”

  Gabriel clenched his hands together to prevent attacking his cousin. “They are well.” He cleared his throat, refusing to speak of Melinda’s death with the man who had allied himself with Melinda’s birth mother, Mrs. Smythe.

  “Perhaps they will decide they enjoy Boston more than Montana and never return. I doubt they’d miss your company.”

  Gabriel reached forward, gripping Henry by his tie and yanking him forward. They were virtually alone in this part of the train cabin, and Gabriel no longer cared about keeping up appearances. “One day, dear cousin, all of your plans, all of your plots, will fail. And you will have nothing.” He thrust his cousin back into his seat, where Gabriel watched Henry impassively as he gasped for breath.

  “You’ve never learned your place, cousin. One day, by God, you will.”

  Henry rose, but Gabriel gripped his wrist. “On the contrary, cousin. I know who and what I am, and have no need to present a persona to the world. I wonder how many will stand by you when they discover what a fraud you are?” They shared a loathing glare before Henry wrenched his arm free and strode down the aisle and into another car.

  * * *

  The following day Colin walked through town with Araminta on his arm. A cold front had moved through the previous afternoon and evening, and the hills were covered in the first snow of the season. “Are you certain you want to do this?” he murmured to her as he smiled at acquaintances. She nodded, and he continued their purposeful movements.

  They arrived at the bank moments after it had opened. Colin eased them through the front door, surprised to see the secretary’s desk vacant. “Where is his office?” Colin whispered.

  Araminta pointed to a partially closed door and followed him.

  He pushed open the door, ushering Araminta inside before closing it behind him with a loud click.

  Bartholomew looked up from the papers he had been blindly staring at and rose to his feet in indignation. “How dare you barge in here!” he sputtered. “I have every right to throw you out.”

  “But you won’t,” Araminta said in a cool, collected voice. “Because, no matter what was said the other day and how you tried to coerce me into marrying you, I know that you cared for me.” When she saw the tensing of his jaw, betraying the truth of her words, she shook her head in consternation. “Why have you acted as you have?”

  “You have no right to ask me questions, madam.” He glared at her. “Seems your ancestry bred true.”

  “Say one more disrespectful thing to Ari, and I’ll finish what we started on Saturday,” Colin declared. “You should give thanks that a woman as fine as Araminta even deigned to speak with you, never mind allowed you to court her. You’re a damn fool.”

  “I’m a fool? Look at you, Mr. Sullivan. The town buffoon. Having to resort to interrupting a man’s wedding to reunite with your harlot.” His head jerked back as Araminta slapped his face.

  “You have no right. Not after what you attempted to force me to do.” She breathed heavily as she shook her hand to ease it of the sting of slapping him. “You, who would have forced me into a farce of a marriage.”

  He leaned against the edge of his desk. “It wouldn’t have been a farce,” he whispered. “I really care for you.”

  Colin watched Bartholomew, seeing in Bartholomew the despair he had felt when he had believed Araminta lost to him. “Would you have gone through with your threat to accuse me of being a German sympathizer?”

  Bartholomew watched him speculatively. “Do you think there aren’t men watching your every move, watching everything you say with the hopes you’ll trip up? Many would love to gain control of your smithy.”

  Colin rocked back as though he’d been sucker punched. “You’d accuse a man of such a vile act simply for monetary gain?”

  Bartholomew laughed. “There isn’t much most men wouldn’t do for monetary gain. I wouldn’t have had to whisper in too many ears to entice your so-called friends and neighbors to speak out against you. We all know your sister is a radical suffragist.”

  Colin shook his head in confusion. “What’s in it for you? You’d gain nothing.”

  Bartholomew rubbed at the cheek Araminta had slapped. “I have many enemies. And those who call me friend have expectations.”

  Colin shared a confused glance with Araminta. “I don’t understand,” Colin murmured.

  “Why marry me?” Araminta whispered. “Why should you want to marry me?”

  “Because, if I didn’t, I would have faced unpleasantness from a man I’d rather not spend much time with. Which is now what I must do.” Bartholomew sighed and shrugged. “At least I negotiated not having to kill you once I married you.”

  Araminta paled, edging closer to Colin. “You wouldn’t have,” she breathed.

  He shook his head, his eyes troubled and reflecting a deep sadness. “No. I found I had no interest in becoming a widower. Not when it meant depriving the world of your loveliness.”

  Colin clenched his jaw and frowned. “That’s one of the most convoluted sentences I’ve ever heard. It’s as though you’re congratulating yourself for not agreeing to murder Ari.”

  “Who would suggest such a horrible thing?” Araminta asked, clutching at Colin’s arm.

  Bartholomew looked from one to the other, sighing at the united front they presented. “All I would say is that my friends are your enemies. I’d be careful who you trust.”

  Colin shared a long look with him and nodded. He ushered Araminta out of Bartholomew’s office and out of the bank. When they stood on the boardwalk, he began to shake. “Come,” he rasped, walking as fast as she could toward her home.

  When they arrived at her home, he waited impatiently for her to open the door. When he slammed shut the door behind them, he pushed her against it, kissing her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, continuing to rain kisses over her cheek and neck. “I … I needed to remind myself you’re well. That I can still hold you in my arms, no matter what was threatened.”

  “Co
lin,” she stuttered, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I … Forgive me.”

  “Shh,” he murmured, kissing her more gently but just as passionately. “There is nothing to forgive. We were manipulated by a master con artist.” He ran a hand through her hair, his desperate gaze roving over her. “I only give thanks that he came to love you and thus saved you.”

  He moved to sit on her sofa, and she followed him. He lay down, and she crawled onto the sliver of space left, dangling off the edge of the sofa. “Come here. You won’t crush me,” he said, his voice filled with humor for the first time since they had left Bartholomew’s office. “Yes, let me cuddle you.” He kissed the top of her head and held her as his thoughts drifted.

  The sounds of the city permeated their quietude, with the rattle of carts, the whinny of horses and the increased honking of horns echoing through the air. “You know what this means?” When he felt her shrug her shoulders, he continued tracing patterns on her back, tangling his fingers in her loosened hair. “This means that some of those people accused of sedition could be innocent.”

  “Why would you say that?” Araminta asked, raising her head to meet his gaze. “They were tried by a judge.”

  “Judges are human, Ari.” He held her close. “If I, a man who’s been a member of this community for over fifteen years, am threatened by such a law, imagine what it must be like for true immigrants.” He huffed out a humorless chuckle. “And I’m Irish!”

  “They aren’t only going after Germans. You know the Irish in Butte raised enough ruckus last year. Besides, many are concerned about their loyalty to the war effort as they see a potential benefit in Great Britain’s loss to Germany.”

  Colin shifted so that he was more comfortable with Araminta resting on his chest. “That’s true, but I wasn’t born there. I don’t have a brogue. I don’t even know what county my father came from.” He frowned. “I wonder which of my men would betray me.”

  Araminta reached for his other hand and laced her fingers with his. “Who do we know who could help us determine Bartholomew’s relationship to Gabriel’s cousin?”

  Colin shook his head. “I don’t know. Who should care? Any journalist worth his weight is in Europe or reporting on the flu. Not concerning himself with a family squabble.”

  “I’m such a fool,” she whispered as she flushed, ducking her head against his chest. “I should have known no man would be interested in me.”

  He growled and urged her to meet his gaze. “Last I checked, I’m a man, and I am very interested in you.” He waited for her to smile and then nodded. “Perhaps in the beginning Bartholomew showed interest in you because he felt compelled by his bargain with Gabriel’s cousin.” He ran a hand over her back as she shivered. “However, the regard he felt for you could not be feigned.”

  “What does this all mean?” Araminta whispered.

  “It means that we have a wily opponent I don’t fully understand while all three McLeod brothers are in Boston.” He sighed as he encouraged her to snuggle into his embrace. “I’m at a distinct disadvantage.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” she whispered.

  “I wish we had a cabin in the woods, and I could escape with you for a week.” He chuckled. “A month.”

  “I wish we could too,” she said as she kissed his jaw. “But we can’t leave Rissa alone. Not when she’ll be desperately worried about Savannah.”

  He hugged her tight in a full-body embrace. “I would be lost without you, Ari.”

  * * *

  A week later Colin sat at a desk in the committee room, facing the three members of the Missoula County Council of Defense Committee. He forced himself to appear calm. He rested his hands on the desk in front of him, gently clasped together. His smile was warm but impersonal, and he stared at the three men in front of him with mild curiosity. Someone had propped open the windows, due to the warmer-than-usual day and the stifling number of pungent townsfolk crammed into the small room. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating Colin and the committee members. He sat up even straighter as his name was spoken.

  “Mr. Sullivan, you have been called forth to answer the committee’s questions regarding doubts of your patriotism.” The rail-thin committee leader shuffled around papers in front of him until he found the slip of paper he looked for. “There are also concerns that seditious remarks were heard at your blacksmith shop.”

  Colin stared at the man with a blank expression. Silence lengthened in the room, the sound of bodies creaking in chairs reverberating in the air.

  “Mr. Sullivan?” The man peered at him over a pair of wire-framed glasses.

  “I have come to answer questions. I’ve yet to hear one, Mr. Caine.”

  The man slammed down the paper in front of him. “Is this the sort of insolence you show to those in positions of power?” When Colin remained silent, Mr. Caine removed his glasses, shaking them at Colin as he spoke. “You’d better learn your place, young man.”

  Another member of the committee cleared his throat and began a barrage of questions.

  “How much have you spent purchasing Liberty Bonds?”

  “Around $500,” Colin said, the large amount earning a gasp from the gathered crowd.

  “Do you have plans to purchase more?”

  “If I can afford to.”

  “Do you contribute to the American Red Cross or the War Service League?”

  Colin nodded. “When I am able to, I donate a few dollars here and there.”

  “So you do not donate on a regular basis?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you believe your personal comfort is more important than supporting the government in its attempt to eradicate the menacing Huns?”

  “No, sir, but I do believe in paying my debts, which includes paying well the men who work for me. I contribute what I can to the cause.” Colin spoke deliberately with little inflection in his voice.

  “You live in a grand house across the river. How do you justify such an expense when our boys are fighting in the trenches and freezing in their poor excuse for shelter that has been erected?”

  “I live in a modest home. I fear you have confused me with someone else.” Colin met the man’s intent stare with no sign he would break under his questions.

  A gavel hit the desk, jolting members of the committee who had been studying Colin as he answered each question. “Please enumerate for the committee all of your assets.”

  Colin tilted his head as he studied Mr. Caine and then each member of the committee who had leaned forward with avaricious interest at the question. “I believe that is no business of the committee. If the Honorable B. K. Wheeler, a federal district attorney, declined to answer such a question to the State Council of Defense Committee in Helena this spring, I see no reason why I should be compelled to answer.”

  “You are in contempt!” Mr. Caine roared. “You must answer.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair and shook his head. He swiped his palms over his pant leg and sat with a forced calm.

  “You have been accused of seditious remarks.” Mr. Caine watched Colin in confusion as his comment failed to rouse any reaction. “Did you say in your shop that it would be better for business if Germany won?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Caine glared at him for his one-word answer. “You categorically deny saying such a comment?” At Colin’s subtle nod, Caine held up a piece of paper. “I have sworn testimony from one of your workers stating you said such comments numerous times along the same vein.”

  “Was it Mr. Booker?” When Mr. Caine nodded, flushing at Colin’s question, Colin took a deep breath. “I’m not surprised he swore to such a thing, considering he truly works for you, Mr. Caine. You have attempted to undermine my business for the past two years since you’ve been unsuccessful in purchasing it from me in a legal manner. It seems rather coincidental that I’m sitting in front of your committee, where you hope to fabricate charges against me and then swoop in to steal my business.”
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  Loud gasps filled the room, and low “Boos” were called out by many of the men. The gavel sounded again, although it took many minutes for those present to calm down and to quit whispering among themselves.

  “How dare you accuse me of such maleficence?” Mr. Caine said, his face beet red.

  “And how dare you drag me in front of your committee, accusing me of sedition and of not supporting my country’s cause? I’ve given more than most in this town in support of the war in Liberty Bonds. I’ve supported families when their breadwinner sons were called up and their parents no longer had a way to support themselves. I’ve followed every Meatless Tuesday and Wheatless Wednesday. I believe in my country, and I am a proud American. How dare you, Mr. Caine.”

  Mr. Caine took a deep breath as though to respond but turned to face a colleague on the committee who tugged at his sleeve. He conferred with the man who had asked Colin the rapid-fire questions, and the discussion between the committee members became heated. After a few minutes, where the murmurs inside the committee room had grown into a small roar, the gavel sounded again.

  “You are a successful business owner, and, as such, you should have found a way to better support the war effort. Thus, let it be known that Colin Sullivan is a money slacker and deserving of any and all public censure. Those with sense will avoid association with his business.” The gavel sounded again as a few more “Boos” rose from the audience, and then the committee members rose and departed.

  Colin sat in stunned silence a moment before rising. He met Araminta’s gaze and shook his head, grabbing her hand as he pushed through the crowd and out onto the boardwalk.

  “Colin Sullivan!” a voice called out.

  Colin walked as fast as he could without forcing Araminta to walk at an uncomfortable pace.

  A squirrelly young man jumped in front of him, impeding him from walking farther. “Do you have a comment for the Daily Missoulian?” When Colin remained silent, the reporter wriggled with energy. “I’m Herman Talbot, one of the reporters. I was just at your hearing. I want you to know I’ll publish what I can about what happened, but my editor has final say.”