Hope Springs (34 page)

There would be no sympathy from that quarter.

“You could take them to Biddy’s,” Tavish suggested.

She looked to Joseph. The disappointment that flashed over his features cut her deeply.
There is no one in the world I trust more than you.
He’d told her that behind Granny’s house. He trusted her, and she was letting him down.

Katie bit back a new wave of tears. ’Twas little wonder he was disappointed in her—she was disappointed in herself. “Come fetch them at Mrs. Claire’s when you’re ready.” Her voice didn’t remain entirely steady, but she’d summoned the strength to make the declaration, and that was something.

He gave a quick nod, instructed his girls to stay with her, and he and Tavish walked quickly toward town.

Though in her heart she was still weeping, outwardly she found a place of calm. She would see to the girls, look after them until their father returned. Then, and only then, would she let the weight of fear and memories break her down.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Even on his way to stop a brawl, Tavish was a breath away from throwing a punch at the man walking by his side. He’d not have thought Joseph Archer the kind of person to toss harsh words at a woman so clearly suffering as Katie was. Joseph had brought fresh tears to her eyes, something Tavish wasn’t sure he could forgive.

“You might have been a little easier on her,” he said.

“Not if I wanted her to stay standing through this.”

“She was doing fine before you came.” Tavish had, after all, led her from town. He had supported her through the entire ordeal. She had been holding up—struggling, yes, but holding up.

“I, for one,” Joseph said, “couldn’t ever be satisfied knowing Katie was doing merely ‘fine.’”

“That is not at all what I meant, and you know it.”

They were quickly approaching the edge of town. Raised voices could already be heard.

“Katie needed a push,” Joseph said.

“What she needed was compassion.”

They’d nearly reached the town and the line of people on either side of the snow-dusted road, staring each other down. It was one fight after another in Hope Springs.

Joseph didn’t look at him when he spoke, but there was an inarguable challenge in his tone. “It seems Katie will have to decide what she needs.”

They were no longer speaking of her response to the fire. “Katie’s already made that decision.”

“Has she?” Joseph spoke with infuriating calm.

Tavish loved Katie and was certain she loved him in return. He could make her laugh when tears hovered in her eyes and bring a smile to her face when she was burdened. He’d never seen Joseph do that. And yet, Joseph seemed so certain of his own claim on Katie’s heart.

“The troops have already assumed the formation.” Only when Joseph motioned toward the gathered townspeople did Tavish realize he
wasn’t
referring to their rivalry over Katie.

Tavish knew exactly what was going on ahead of them. The Irish had gathered around the smithy—what was left of it, at least—to show the Reds that they placed the blame for its destruction on the Reds’ shoulders. The Reds had gathered around the mercantile because they fully expected the Irish to retaliate. ’Twas likely only a matter of time before they did just that.

“So what happens now? Do you start evicting the town?” Tavish and his parents were the only members of his family who would be safe. The rest of his siblings had come up short on their payment.

“Not if they disperse,” Joseph said.

Tavish made his way to Seamus’s side. “How bad is it?”

“I’ve lost it all.” Seamus stood with his fingers shoved into the pockets of his vest, eyeing the charred remains of his business. Each exhaled breath formed clouds in front of him, adding to the desolation of the scene. “’Tis nothing but a pile of ashes and a few salvageable tools. I’ll not have the money to replace this. Not for years, maybe. Longer, more likely. I can’t recover from this.”

Smoke rose off the charred wood.

“Everyone will help you rebuild, Seamus. Every one of us.”

He shook his head. “They can’t pay for their own homes, Tavish. How’re they going to rebuild my business? They haven’t the money to replace my tools or my supplies.” His tone tightened with each word. “This has ruined me.
Ruined
me.” Seamus spun about and pointed directly at the Reds across the way. “And they know it!”

The Red Roaders stood with arms folded across their chests, unmoved by Seamus’s anger. He took a step into the road. Tavish held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. A single thrown fist or shove would set off the entire crowd.

“Keep calm, Seamus.”

“Don’t tell me to keep calm.” Seamus’s pulse pounded through the veins in his reddened neck. “There were children about, Tavish.
Children,
” he shouted at the Reds. “And these would-be murderers started a fire. Someone might’ve been killed.”

Bob Archibald emerged from the gathering outside the mercantile. “Be careful where you throw your accusations, Paddy. Who are you to say any of us did this? Maybe you were too careless.”

“You know full well I wasn’t even here.”

The men had come too close to each other for Tavish’s peace of mind. They’d lunge for each other’s throats any minute.

Joseph stepped between the men, though he addressed Tavish. “Talk the Irish back.”

Tavish looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, his countrymen were inching closer to their neighbors.

“We’ve lost a business, Joseph,” Seamus growled. “Our only remaining one, since they forced Katie to turn her bread business into a charity.”

“If there’s blood in the streets, Seamus,” Joseph answered, “they’ll lose more than a business.” He turned his glare on Archibald. “The same goes for the Red Road, Bob.”

“We’ve been accused of trying to murder children. You can’t expect us to stand back and be insulted.”

“That is exactly what I expect you to do.” Joseph remained calm despite the antagonism crackling in the air. He addressed the Reds. “If you are not here to help clean up the ashes and soot, then I suggest you go home.”

“Why? So these foreigners”—Bob motioned at the Irish with his stubbly chin—“can burn down the rest of the town while we’re not looking?”

“Don’t fret over that. I don’t mean to steal your favorite trick.” Seamus leaned in, spitting his words.

“Are you accusing me of something, Irishman?”

“Are you feeling guilty?”

“Not in the least.”

“Tavish!” He turned about at the sound of Da calling out his name. He, Thomas, Keefe, and Ian were doing their utmost to keep the Irish from rushing at their Red Road neighbors. O’Donaghue could be counted on to be carrying a shillelagh, perhaps MacCormack as well.

He joined the voices calling for calm. But who was keeping the Reds reasonable?
They
weren’t used to taking one on the chin in the name of peace.

He looked back, just as the Reds inched forward as a whole. There’d be a full-on battle any moment. Irish voices shouted right along with American voices, anger filling the air. Tavish tried to make himself heard, at least by those nearest him.

“We can’t—”

No one was listening.

“Da!” But he couldn’t hear him.

Someone rushed forward, nearly knocking Tavish over. He kept his place, trying to hold the crowd back. His boots slid beneath him on the slippery snow.

A piercing whistle silenced the mob. Then a voice spoke into the quiet.

Joseph. Again.

“You were all in church two weeks ago. You know the consequences of a brawl. A single drop of blood today and everyone here who is behind in their payments by so much as a halfpenny—and there are only two or three of you here who don’t fall under that category—will find eviction notices nailed to your door by day’s end.”

Faces paled. Movement stopped. Relief mingled with anger in Tavish’s chest. Joseph had stopped a fight that had been a second from exploding, but he’d done it by threatening people Tavish cared about.

He looked to Da, who seemed as unnerved as he felt. Ian stood not far off. He looked exhausted. He and Biddy hadn’t made their full payment, so he stood in danger of losing his farm. He was in no condition to be thrown from his home. If the worst happened, would they be willing to stay with him? Would their pride get in the way?

It won’t come to that. We’ll keep the peace somehow.

“Go home. All of you,” Joseph demanded.

Bob Archibald didn’t budge. Neither did anyone else.

“How do we know they won’t set fire to the mercantile the moment we’re gone?” Archibald demanded.

Tavish quickly eyed all those nearest him, silently warning them to keep quiet.

“Because the supplies in this mercantile are all we have to see us through this winter,” Joseph said. “The snows have come. Johnson’s boy will be here any day, and his will be the last deliveries coming into town until spring.”

“And without a smithy, we can’t risk breaking a wheel or an axle trying to go for more supplies,” Tavish pointed out. “If any horse needs a new shoe, there won’t be any way of getting one. If anyone’s tools or equipment needs repairing, we no longer have a forge where that can be done. Losing the mercantile on top of that will ruin us all. Every one of us, Red and Irish alike.”

A new worry settled over the group. They’d known lean years, when winter arrived early—as it had that year—and lasted longer than usual. Until the trail to the train depot was clear, nothing would go in or out of town once the Johnson boy was back. Even if they pooled every penny they had, no new smithing supplies could be obtained until the spring thaw. The mercantile was the town’s only lifeline now.

“Seamus, keep a few men here, only as many as you need to help you clean this up.” Joseph looked out over the Reds. “Johnson?”

“Here, Joseph.” Mr. Johnson stepped to the front.

“If you feel you need a few men to stay around, just in case, pick them out.”

Johnson nodded.

Joseph addressed them all again. “The rest of you, go home. See to your families and your land and leave your neighbors to do the same.”

Bob Archibald’s scruffy face turned smug. The whole thing had clearly gone in his favor. No one, not even his fellow Red Roaders, could possibly think he
hadn’t
been involved in burning down the blacksmith shop. He’d destroyed a man’s business, stolen his very livelihood, and he’d gotten away with it.

Tavish understood the need for peace, but he hated that it always seemed to come on the backs of the Irish.

“See to our own.” Bob nodded as he spoke. “That is a good idea.” His gaze narrowed on Seamus. “We’ll see to our road. You had best see to yours.”

“Is that a threat?” Seamus growled.

“Only a friendly suggestion.”

Joseph laid a warning hand on both men’s arms. Tavish reached out, taking hold of Seamus’s other arm. “Let’s see to cleaning up,” he said. “That needs to come first.”

Joseph gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Tavish didn’t feel much like being Joseph’s ally. But what choice was there?

Joseph had the money and the power and the influence. Tavish had very little in comparison.

But you have Katie. And that is more important than anything else.

Snow had fallen heavy and thick by the time Joseph reached Mrs. Claire’s door that night. The sun had long since set. He was tired and worn and worried. The town hadn’t made peace; they’d simply declared a temporary cease-fire. He’d seen guards posted where the road passed his property to begin its winding trek past the Reds’ houses. The Irish had followed suit; men stood on the Irish side of the bridge, taking turns to watch for their enemies.

Did they mean to stand in the snow all night long? He could only hope they’d thought to rotate out, rather than leave any one person exposed to the elements for so long. For just a moment he’d thought about stopping and trying to talk sense into them all. But he’d beaten his head against that particular wall too often of late. It seemed wise to take on only one losing battle at a time.

Speaking of which, he had to face Katie. He knew he had wounded her feelings earlier with his sharp words and lack of empathy. Tavish had played the “loving beau” role to perfection, and Katie had fallen to pieces under the umbrella of his affection. Joseph hated having to appear indifferent to her suffering, but she’d needed someone to remind her how capable she was. She was stronger than she’d allowed herself to be.