Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (11 page)

“So it seems. Though by all accounts, Clark will be our next senator,” Matthew said. “Even if he is a bit corrupt.”

“That’s like saying the pope’s slightly Catholic,” Liam muttered. “The man’s not had an altruistic thought in his life.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Tonight I think they were most upset that I was from Boston. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“There are many here who are none too pleased with the Amalgamated takeover of Anaconda. They have ties to Boston. And you can’t help sounding like you do,” Liam said.

Gabriel rolled his good eye at that comment coming from Liam in his thick Irish accent.

“Yeah, like you’ve lost your
R
s every time you speak,” Matthew teased.

“I do not,” Gabriel said.

“Say bar, horse, fork,” Ronan taunted. “Please, especially fork.”

“Ronan!” Amelia admonished him with a tap on his head. “No need to taunt the poor man after he’s already had his head bashed.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so forthright about where you are from, Gabriel,” Liam said. “Say something vague.”

“I am proud to be from Boston,” Gabriel protested.

“That’s all well and good, but I would think you wouldn’t want too many more facers just now,” Matthew said.

“Here, this is what got them so riled,” Ronan said. He rose and pulled out a copy of
The Butte Miner
from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Gabriel. “It came out today.”

Gabriel groaned as he looked at the cartoon of a fat milking cow fed by Montana labor, but being milked by Wall Street with men in suits from Boston and New York walking away with the profits.

“Damn,” Gabriel whispered. “
Fed in Montana, Milked in the East
. Who writes this stuff?”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s how most feel out here, Gabe,” Liam said.

“And I chose the worst day to admit to being from Boston,” Gabriel said.

“Yes, though we know you aren’t profiting from it,” Matthew said. “Otherwise, you’d never bunk with me.” He made Gabriel laugh.

“You weren’t at the bar alone, Gabe. Didn’t your work friends stand up for you?” Ronan asked.

“They helped me up and stood by me once I got myself off the floor, and then ensured I wasn’t further attacked as I left the bar.”

“At least they helped you a little,” Matthew said.

“Why didn’t they clobber the man for you?” Ronan demanded from the floor. He had collapsed onto it again to play marbles with Nicholas who had squirmed down from Amelia’s lap as she rose to work in the kitchen.

“I think they were waiting to see if I were insane enough to fight him.”

“Big lout, was he?” Liam said with a laugh.

“Monstrous. I wasn’t that stupid. Niall compared him to Cu Chulainn.”

“Well, then count yourself lucky to still be with us,” Liam said with a wink.

“I will. And I think I’ll avoid Daly’s Place from now on.”

“Could you be any more dense, man?” Ronan moaned. “What in God’s name possessed you to talk about politics in a place like that?”

“I thought we were having a quiet conversation as I learned more about the ways of Montana politics. I never imagined everyone around us was listening in and ripe for a fight.”

“Gabriel, you seem intelligent. And I hope for your Clarissa’s sake you are. But don’t go stirring things up on the eve of an election in one of the copper king’s bastions of support.”

Gabriel nodded. “Believe me, I’ve figured that out.”

“The last thing you’d want to happen is to hurt your hands so you couldn’t work. You wouldn’t want to end up in the Cabbage Patch,” Liam said. They all grimaced.

“None of us will ever end up in Butte’s slum,” Matthew vowed. All of them nodded their agreement and pledge to each other.

Amelia called out from the kitchen where she was placing the finishing touches on dinner. “Did you know Gabriel’s Clarissa bashed his head open? That’s how they met.”

“So you’re used to this kind of treatment?” Ronan asked with a laugh. “That’s good to know.”

“Leave off, the lot of you,” Gabriel said, though he could not refrain from joining in their laughter.

“What news from your letter, Gabriel?” Amelia asked. “You know how we all wish we received mail as regularly as you.”

“Give me a little time, and I’ll tell you the latest,” Gabriel said, settling back to read the letter from Richard. After a few moments he muttered, “Holy hell.”

“Gabe?” Liam asked.

Gabriel waved away the concern, intent on the news.

After a few more moments he whispered, “My uncle is alive.” He looked toward them, awestruck. “My uncle whom I haven’t seen since I was twelve. I thought he was dead. He thought we were dead. He met Clarissa at a function at her fancy cousin’s house, and she introduced him to Richard.” He paused.

“Gabriel, that is wonderful! To have family where you thought you didn’t. I envy you,” Amelia said.

“I remember him well, my seafaring uncle. He was so like my da.”

“What does your brother say about him?” Ronan asked.

“That he reminds him of Da, but that he can’t remember Aidan.”

“Maybe he’s not your uncle,” Matthew said.

“Why would he claim to be my uncle if he weren’t?” Gabriel asked. “He has nothing to gain from an association with my brothers and me. And by all accounts, he is a very successful businessman. Besides, Richard says he reminds him of our da.”

“Well, then this is a reason to celebrate!” Amelia said. “Though it is only a simple meal, it should suffice.”

CHAPTER 8

I STOOD ERASING THE DAY’S LESSON from the chalkboard when I heard heavy footsteps approaching. I twirled. My breath caught and my heart skipped a beat as I saw the tall, dark-haired man in the doorway.

“Richard,” I said, expelling my pent-up breath. “Wonderful to see you.” I collapsed into my chair out of fear of fainting.

Drawings from my students decorated the wall to one side of my cluttered desk, and I had managed to erase only half of the day’s lesson. Bright light streamed in through the only window on the other side. I took a deep breath, battling memories.

“Are you all right, Miss Sullivan?” he entered the room, crouching in front of me and taking hold of my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I attempted to feign a happy smile but knew I had failed miserably.

Richard studied me. “You thought I was Gabe,” he murmured. At my swift nod, he squeezed my hands. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Clarissa, do you have any—” Florence called out as she entered the room but stopped abruptly near the doorway.

Richard stood, dropping my hands, all of his focus on Florence across the room. “Florence,” he breathed. He studied her from head to foot as though cataloging the changes in her.

Florence paled and then flushed red. She watched him with wide eyes through her glasses, mute. Her curly black hair had escaped its tight bun while numerous curls framed her round face. She wrapped her arms around her middle, effectively covering the stains to her gray cotton shirtwaist dress received during the day’s penmanship lesson.

I rose, walking toward her and looped my arm through hers to drag her farther into the room. I did not want her to escape.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted,” Florence choked out.

“I came to see you,” Richard murmured. He reached out to touch her but dropped his hand as Florence flinched away.

“How could you?” Florence glared at me.

“She did the right thing, Flo,” Richard said. “I have wondered for too long what happened to you. Where you went when old Mrs. Kruger died. How you were.” He watched her. “How are you, Florence?”

“I’m fine,” she said with only a slight tremble in her voice to betray the lie.

I let go of Florence’s arm reluctantly, wanting to give them a bit of privacy. But as I eased away, Florence gripped my arm, forestalling any movement. “No. Stay, Clarissa. You wanted this to occur and must be curious to know what would happen.”

“Florence, it’s not like that at all. Well, not solely for that reason. I want to see you happy.”

“You can’t even see to your own happiness. Why should you think to suddenly try to look after mine?” Florence spat out.

I recoiled as though I had been struck, freed my arm and moved a few paces away from her.

“Florence, that’s not like you,” Richard murmured. “There is no need to lash out at Clarissa. She has been a good friend to me with Gabriel gone.” Richard reached out to her, clasping her arms. “Florence, I know that you and I’ve had a few rough years. I know that you think you have a reason to cling to bitterness. But you don’t. Not any longer.”

“You don’t know me, Richard McLeod,” Florence said. “If you had…”

“I don’t know who you are now, Florence,” Richard agreed. “But I know who you were. A loyal, lovely, kind, intelligent woman struggling for a better future. Just like I was struggling. I had no right to allow myself to be torn away from you without speaking with you. Will you speak with me now?”

Tears silently coursed down Florence’s cheeks. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?”

“I am here because I have never truly been happy without you,” he murmured, tenderly brushing her riotous black curls behind her ear. “I am here because, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard Gabriel tried to make me, I couldn’t forget you.”

“You are only interested because you are all alone now.”

“There will never come a time when I don’t want you in my life, Florence. I knew that from the moment we met.”

“Why wouldn’t you talk with me? I begged you … I
begged
you, and you wouldn’t.” She sobbed.

Richard shook his head, regret and hurt in his eyes. “I saw you with Henry, and I imagined the worst. You were pouring tea for them, my hated aunt Masterson and cousin. And they knew more about your true past than I did.”

“If you would have let me explain…”

“I know now.
I know
. But, then, all I felt was a fool. And hurt.”

Florence stepped away from him, scrubbing the tears from her eyes. “It’s going to take more than a few sweet words to convince me,” she said with a glower.

Richard smiled. “If it were any other way, I would be disappointed.” He glanced toward me, and I saw true happiness flit across his face. “Join me for tea, Flo?”

“I will not. You seem to be under the impression that I am free whenever you want to see me. I have a life and responsibilities.”

“Tomorrow?” he murmured.

She watched him with a glimmer of joy in her eyes, and I realized their dance had begun again. “I might be free tomorrow.”

“Good. Then I might call for you here at the end of the school day. If you will excuse me, I must return to the smithy,” Richard said with a jaunty smile as he turned to leave.

After a few moments of silence, Florence glared at me. “How dare you, Rissa?”

“What? Want to see my dear friend happy?” I said with a broad smile. “For you will be happy with him.”

“If he is constant.”

“Florence, you know he will be. You know why he reacted the way he did.”

“I may know why, but that doesn’t mean I understand. There’s still a lot of hurt that needs to be resolved, Rissa.”

“I know, but at least you have the chance now,” I said, drawing her into a quick embrace. “I’d wear the pretty light-purple dress tomorrow with an extra petticoat.”

“Rissa!” Florence laughed, sounding young and carefree. “I agree.”

***

“CLARISSA, LOOK WHO has called for tea,” Mrs. Smythe called out.

I looked up from my book,
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
, with no real interest in the new arrival. I turned toward the door, the book lightly clasped in my hands. It fell with a thud as my eyes bulged at the visitor. Mrs. Smythe tittered as she welcomed Cameron into the parlor, patting the space next to her for him to seat himself. He looked toward me for a moment, and I was thankful I sat in a chair rather than my now customary settee.

I glanced from him to her then back to him again, sure that he must be an apparition. However, he stood in the doorway, as proud as could be. His golden-blond hair was shellacked into place with a thick coating of pomade, and a well-tailored suit and waistcoat covered his tall, narrow frame. I frowned at the exultant gleam in his honey-brown eyes.

“Come, Clarissa welcome our guest.” She glared at me as I continued to stare dumbly at Cameron.

“Hello, darling Miss Sullivan. It is such a pleasure to see you again.” He sat gracefully next to Mrs. Smythe.

“I’m glad one of us is happy.”

“I thought you were too lonely, dearest Clarissa,” Mrs. Smythe said as she patted his arm a few times. “I hate to see you pining so, losing your bloom in your prime. Such a sad thing to behold in a young woman.”

“As you can clearly see, I am not pining away. I continue to teach. Continue with activities that truly matter to me.”

Mrs. Smythe fluttered her hand in the air, disregarding my words. “Well, believe what you will, dearest. I can see how you have suffered since your horrible abandonment. Yes, abandonment. Oh, my poor darling. And now, here is your old beau, come to reacquaint himself with you.”

“We are as acquainted as we need to be,” I hissed, rising to leave the room.

“Clarissa Sullivan, you will remain in the parlor and be kind to our guest.”

“I will not.”

I turned, fleeing the room for my bedroom, although not before I heard the triumphant murmur of his voice.

***

“WHAT’S GOT YOU so riled, Rissa?” Colin murmured from the chair next to mine. “You’d think you were reading about the disaster near Nova Scotia.” He carefully folded the evening paper, his battered hands almost scrubbed clean after a long day in the smithy. I sat on a camelback settee next to Colin’s gentleman’s chair near the door. A fire gilded the far side of the room with flickering light. Lit gaslights on the end tables cast a warm glow to the rose-colored wallpaper.

I glanced around the room, thankful Da and Mrs. Smythe appeared deep in conversation on the medallion-style sofa close to the fireplace. “Do you know who called today?” At Colin’s nearly imperceptible shake of his head in denial, I breathed, “Cameron.”