The Sextet Presents… By Male Order [In Days of Olde] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

“I must admit,” Thomas said, “I’m highly curious as to what he wishes to discuss.”

“As am I, Thomas. As am I.”

* * * *

The sanctuary of St. Paul’s was dark and foreboding, which perfectly matched Alec’s sour mood.

He knew Thomas was hurting, but he wasn’t about to allow his lover to wallow in shame he didn’t deserve. Just because people were ignorant enough to believe there was only one way for people to love didn’t mean Thomas should have to carry the heavy burden of shame and self-loathing. God knew that Alec had lived with it long enough to know how much it could wound a soul.

It had taken him twenty-nine years to figure out there was nothing wrong with him because he craved the touch of both women and other men. The lesson hadn’t been easy. He’d suffered his share of beatings and humiliations before he’d finally learned the problem wasn’t with him—it was with other people, those who were full of nothing but bigotry and hatred.

Once he’d freed himself of the shackles of shame, Alec had learned to enjoy life and chose to spend it with people who accepted him. Unfortunately, that left him lonely quite often.

And then he’d met Thomas. They’d been inseparable for three years, and in Alec’s heart, he considered Thomas his spouse—the love of his life.

Poor Thomas
. He still carried the burden of shame. Alec would have done anything to help him ease that burden, but this was a battle a man had to fight in his own mind, not with his hands.

Father Kincaid came from the vestibule with a gold candle lighter. He smiled when he saw the couple and beckoned them forward. Then he turned to begin lighting candles.

Out of habit, Alec pulled off his tam. He dipped his fingers in the holy water and made the sign of the cross. So did Thomas. They moved past the altar, stopped to genuflect, and went to the priest.

“What did ye wish of us, Father?” Alec asked.

The priest didn’t stop his task as he answered. “I need your help, Alec. Yours, too, Thomas.”

“We would be honored to help, Father.” Alec reached for the candle lighter.

Father Kincaid smiled and shook his head. “No, my boy. That is not the help of which I speak.” He flicked the trigger to extinguish the flame then led the men to the front pew. “Sit. Please.”

Taught from childhood to be obedient to the clergy, Alec sat.

Thomas didn’t move so quickly. His brows knit as he took a few hesitant steps toward the pew. He glanced back at the priest.

“Come, Thomas.” Father Kincaid patted his shoulder. “We should speak.”

With a curt nod, Thomas sat at Alec’s side.

Alec felt Thomas’s pain all the way to his soul. It took great strength not to take his lover’s hand in his, especially since Father Kincaid knew of their relationship. But one never knew where there might be eyes watching, so they never expressed affection in public. Never.

“Thomas, you look sad this evening. Why?”

“I…I lost my job, Father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my son. Alec, are you still having problems finding day work as well?”

“Aye, Father. But—”

A raised hand stopped his words. “All things happen for a reason. While I’m sorry for you losing your position, Thomas, I might have a solution to your problems. And in solving your problems, I might solve one of my own.”

Skeptical and a bit suspicious, Alec frowned. “We donnae need a solution. I will find more work.”

“I am sure you will, Alec, but I ask that you listen to my proposition. I am in need of your help.”

Raising his head, Thomas stared at the priest. “We don’t need your pity.”

“You mistake me, son. This is not pity. I assure you that, should you take me up on this offer, I would be forever in your debt.”

Alec finally gave in to the urge. He picked up the hand Thomas held clenched against his thigh. The moment he touched Thomas, his fingers relaxed and he let Alec take his hand.

“Tell us, please,” Alec said. “Then we can decide.”

Father Kincaid fished around in his cassock for a moment and produced a letter. “This is from my niece, Hope. She is a widow.”

“The war?” Alec asked.

With a nod, the priest continued, “She has a farm in the Dakota Territory, and she is sore taxed trying to keep up with the work.”

“A widow with a farm?” Thomas asked. “I’d think she’d have suitors by the dozens.”

“She doesn’t wish to marry again.”

“Can she not hire workers, Father?” Alec asked.

“Please, gentlemen, just listen.” He started pacing in front of them, the swish of his robes as he moved the only sound in the quiet sanctuary. “Hope’s husband was not good to her. She was left a bit…damaged by her short marriage. She knows any man she hires will seek more of a relationship, perhaps even force her into another unhappy marriage simply to get their hands on her farm. When she discreetly asked me to find some help for her—a man of your…persuasion—I immediately thought of you two. Now that I know of your situation, your need for jobs, I believe you might
both
want to go to her. I can send word of your coming so she will understand that you are…involved only with each other, that you will not hound her for marriage.”

Alec saw where this was going. “But, Father, we know nothing of farming. While this is a generous—
more
than generous—offer, we cannae help her.”

“Hope can teach you all you need to know. You are both clever and quick with tasks. You will learn.”

Thomas just stared at the priest, his silence ringing loud in Alec’s mind. He was considering taking Father Kincaid up on his offer.

“How could we even afford the trip?” Alec couldn’t help but ask. His mind was tumbling and turning at the prospect. A new start.
Another
new start. But this time they wouldn’t be going to a city. They’d be traveling to an untamed land where not even the law could protect them from the rage of haters and bigots. Yet it sounded inviting. Perhaps this was exactly what they needed.

“I shall pay your passage,” Father Kincaid replied. “It means that much to me to know there are two good men watching out for Hope’s safety.”

“We cannae take your charity,” Alec insisted.

“It is not charity, my son. It will be I who is forever in your debt.”

“What about her father, her mother? Doesnae the woman have brothers?” Alec wasn’t sure whether he was thrilled or terrified at the prospect of picking up once again and moving to a place he’d never heard of. He’d been escaping for so long, he’d lost track of where he truly belonged.

“She is quite alone. Her parents are gone, God rest their souls. It would mean the world to me to know she was safe in your care. Only my brother and I remain to watch out for her. Alas, he has also taken up the calling and ministers to a parish in Virginia.” The priest heaved a sigh. “I worry so for Hope’s safety. There are so many men out there who would take advantage of her. The country she lives in is so wild…” He turned to give them a stern gaze. “Please, Alec, Thomas. Please. Do me this kindness. Perhaps in helping her, you might also help yourselves.”

The Dakota Territory

May, 1866

Hope Adams jerked awake. Damn it all if she hadn’t fallen asleep standing up, leaning heavily against the fence.

No wonder
. She’d been up the better part of the night helping Nightingale as she gave birth to a beautiful new colt. Hope had to reach inside the mare’s womb and turn the foal who’d decided to enter the world tail first. By the time she saw the perfectly formed brown colt take his first wobbly steps, the sun had just begun to peek over the horizon. That event was marked by her banty rooster’s piercing crow. While she normally welcomed his alert, today it had been about as inviting as a nail dragged down a pane of glass.

After a hasty dip in the lake and a change of clothes so she didn’t run around all day with the products of the colt’s birth on her, there had been morning chores to perform. She’d just finished weeding the last row of her vegetable garden when she’d stopped long enough to lean against the fence and let the sun bathe her face for a few precious moments. Lord knew it wasn’t the first time she’d fallen asleep on her feet.

There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything she needed to do. Common sense told her it was time to search for some help again. Finding male farmhands was slim pickings at best. The men who’d returned from the war were often physically incapable of doing the backbreaking chores. Then there were those who were psychologically damaged by the battles they’d witnessed—something she knew well.

Her battles might not have been fought with guns, but she’d still been wounded far more than she could sometimes bear. She still slept with a knife under her pillow.

The only men in Clearbrook who could truly be useful to Hope wanted only to bed her, not help her keep her farm running—unless, of course, she married one of them and gave him her precious home—Abe Driscoll being the worst of the bunch.

She would
never
marry again, especially not Abe Driscoll, no matter how many times he offered for her. One marriage had been hell enough. She’d vowed never to put herself in that kind of dangerous situation again, and Driscoll looked dangerous enough to make her wary.

Men’s voices were approaching, which boded ill. No one had been invited to visit, and anyone venturing this far from town could only have bad intentions.

Hope hiked her skirts and hurried to her small house. She ran up the porch stairs, threw open the screen door, and grabbed her loaded shotgun where she always kept it handy. Concealing herself behind the corner of the porch, she waited to see what she faced this time.

Two men were coming down the long, dusty road. Their pace was leisurely and their manner calm. Since they were doing nothing to conceal their approach, she took a few deep breaths to ease the way her heart slammed in her rib cage. Had they been some of Driscoll’s hirelings, they would have tried to sneak up on her and catch her unawares. A damn shame the man had no idea what the word “no” meant. These men were talking and chuckling as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

She envied them.

When they drew closer, she waited to see if they’d pass her by. Not likely, considering the only place the road led was toward Hungry Horse, and that was a good ten miles north. No, anyone walking this far out was here to find her, which meant they were up to no good.

They turned down her lane, and when they were within range, she jumped out and leveled her shotgun at them. “Stop right there!”

Both men skidded to a halt so quickly their feet raised clouds of dust.

“State your business and then get the hell off my farm.”

The taller of the two pulled a funny hat from his head. His chestnut hair was far too long, touching his shoulders, but Hope found it oddly appealing. “Easy there, lassie.” He spoke with such a funny accent.

“State your business.
Now.
”

The second man dropped his satchel and held out his palms. “Calm down, Mrs. Adams. Father Kincaid sent us.”

She snorted at them. “I seriously doubt that.”

Had her uncle sent men to her, he surely would have written first so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise. She’d heard nothing from him since she’d begged for his help finding a man to work her farm, nor would he answer that request by sending
two
men. He was the only person who understood exactly how frightened she was of men, especially big, muscular men like the ones now facing her and lying right to her face.

There was only one explanation. “You stole my letter, didn’t you? Somehow you found my letter and decided to present yourselves in response. Well, you can just mosey on along now before I fill your backsides with lead. I’m not marrying anyone, and no one is getting his hands on my farm.”

When the brown-haired man reached inside his pocket, Hope growled deep in her throat and took careful aim.

His face blanched, but he plucked out a piece of folded paper and held it up with a trembling hand. “Father Kincaid sent this so you’d know we have his blessing.”

“I won’t fall for your trickery. You just want me to put down my shotgun.”

“N…no. No, ma’am. No trickery. I swear it.” He kept shooting looks at the taller man. “Say something, Alec.”

“What do ye wish me to say, Thomas?” Alec shifted his gaze to Hope. “Lassie, if ye be putting that gun down, we can talk. Father Kincaid—”

“You don’t even
know
Father Kincaid, do you?” Her skepticism was at an all-time high, and she refused to believe these interlopers were anything other than opportunists from Clearbrook, here to take advantage of her.

“Aye, we know the good father,” Alec replied.

“What color is his hair?” she asked, hoping to catch them in their lie.

Alec chuckled and raked his fingers through his own hair. “He doesnae
have
any hair.”

“He’s bald, Mrs. Adams,” Thomas said. “As bald as a head of cabbage.”

Although they’d answered correctly, she wasn’t ready to relax her vigilance. “Where was he born?”

Judging from his sigh, Alec was losing patience with her. “How would we know where he was born? He doesnae have an accent, nor does he speak of his life before coming to St. Louis.”

“He told us you’d be skeptical, but he didn’t say you’d try to kill us.” Thomas held out the paper. “If you would be so kind as to read this, you might find the answers you’re looking for.”

“Put it down on the ground and take a step back.”

“Oh, for the love of… As you wish.” Thomas held his hand out and dropped the paper.

“Now back up.” She motioned with the barrel of the shotgun to remind them who was in control of the situation. “Back up to the fence.”

They shuffled back, grumbling the whole way. Only when they were far enough to satisfy her did she finally step up to where the paper rested in the dust. Stooping to snatch it up while she kept an eye on the men and held the rifle steady wasn’t an easy task. Reading the note was even harder.