Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(44)

“Then you’re not afraid of the danger? Of taking a stand against James Carr?”

“Of course not,” he said too quickly. “I think it’s past time to put the man in his proper place. He’s gained far too much power in this county. And I for one would like to lead the way in exposing him and his evil deeds.”

“You certainly have the power with your paper.”

“I just need the cold hard facts to nail him on what he’s been doing. And unfortunately I don’t have that yet.”

“If you were to write up what happened to Frankie, wouldn’t that be enough?”

He shook his head. “It would be one poor little girl’s testimony against his and everyone else he’s got on his payroll—which is half the county. He’d probably bring charges against me for slander. And the sad thing is, he’d probably win.”

The frustration in Lily’s stomach ate against the tender lining. “We’ve got to fight. No matter what, we’ve got to fight against him.”

“I agree. He’s been like gangrene on this county since he first came. His evil is slowly rotting away all that’s good.”

“And I agree too,” Vera said, jabbing a thread through her quilting needle. “But I don’t want the two of you to do anything foolish and get yourselves hurt. Whatever you do, I want you to be careful.”

Lily didn’t say anything, because if she did, she knew she’d have to lie. There was nothing safe about what she was planning on doing. But since when was there anything safe about fighting hard for what one believed was right?





Chapter

13



Connell forced himself to look at the page of numbers in front of him. But every muscle in his body strained to get up, walk across the room, past the kitchen, and peer into Vera’s bedroom at Lily.

Oren had come home from his Sunday picture taking and had gone up to his room early. The Hellers weren’t back from their prayer meeting.

There was no one to stop him.

He glanced around the deserted dining room. He was alone. Most of the other men who boarded at the Northern spent their evenings at one tavern or another playing cards and drinking.

No one would see him.

He would make sure he stood outside the door. He wouldn’t step a foot inside the room.

His pulse sputtered with sudden determination. He pushed back from the table and stood.

All he wanted was one glimpse of her. Then he’d come back to his spot and wouldn’t think about her again the rest of the evening.

He yanked off his spectacles and tossed them onto the ledgers. He deserved to talk with her just as much as anyone else—especially Stuart. The man had tromped in and out of the Northern over the past several days, visiting Lily to his heart’s content, and no one said a thing about it.

Why, then, couldn’t he walk in and at least say hi to her?

He started around the table, stopped, and turned to the open fireplace and the lines of damp socks hanging to dry in front of it.

Sure, he’d overheard the shanty boys snickering and making all the usual lurid comments during his visits to each of his camps. But it was old news now. The rumors were dying down.

At least for Lily’s sake, he hoped they were.

She didn’t deserve the blemish to her reputation. And he held himself entirely responsible for the gossip. If only he hadn’t unclothed her. At the time, he’d only been worried about saving her life. But he should have known better.

He supposed people would have talked anyway, even if she’d had her dress on. The fact was, he’d been alone with her for close to thirty-two hours. And in a town like Harrison, people would think the worst no matter what.

What difference would it make if he went to her bedroom door now and visited with her?

He made only three steps before the creak of the front door halted him.

“Ah, there you are!” came a muffled voice he knew all too well. The strident tone slammed into the spot between his shoulder blades and stiffened his back.

Slowly he pivoted. There stood his brother, muffled in an ankle-length sealskin coat with its collar turned up over his ears. He wore a fur-lined Scotch Windsor cap and heavy gauntlet gloves. Only his eyes showed between his collar and the brim of his cap.

“Tierney,” Connell said as his brother kicked the door closed. But there was no joy in the greeting, not even a hint of warmth for his only sibling. That had evaporated completely two years ago—if it had ever existed in the first place.

“Should have known you’d be here.” Tierney grinned and shrugged off his coat.

“You know me. I like to live it up.”

Tierney’s handsome grin widened. “Yes, you do.”

Resentment sloshed in Connell’s gut like fermented cider. But he ignored it, as he usually did. “How’s Mam?”

“Busy.” Tierney slipped off his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. “She’s been helping Rosemarie with the new baby.”

The new baby. The sourness in Connell’s stomach rose up until he could almost smell it. “What did she have? A boy or a girl?”

“Girl.” Unmistakable disappointment edged the word.

A twinge of satisfaction released the tension in his back. For once Tierney hadn’t gotten something he’d wanted. And it served him right.