Читать книгу Questions of Honour (Questions of Honor) - Kate Welsh - Страница 10

Joshua met Henry in the hall. “I’ve turned down your bed, and took the liberty of drawing you a hot bath.” Henry glanced askance at the condition of Joshua’s clothing. “I would say you could use a good hot soak about now, sir.”

“I’m going to change but I’m going out again,” Joshua told the butler.

Henry cleared his throat and stood even stiffer. “Begging your pardon, but it might do to wait for morning after the brothers go off to work and Daniel has left for school. And yes, sir, there is a school. Mrs. Sullivan’s doing. Badgered your father until he hired a schoolmaster. There’s need of a better building but now many children attend.”

Abby had gotten her school. That was two promises he’d made that Abby had fulfilled in his absence. Suddenly tired to his depths, Josh sighed. “Perhaps you have a point. Abby and I should talk without any interference.”

Old Henry started on his way but halted almost in midstep. “Perhaps you shouldn’t judge any of them too harshly, sir. The past is over. The future lies ahead.” That said he pivoted smartly and left Joshua standing in the hall staring after him, realizing what had just happened. Henry had interfered and given him advice for the first time ever. Unfortunately, Josh doubted he could take it.

“Daniel Sullivan!” Abby called out the door. “Where in the name of all that’s holy do you think you’re going dressed like that? Those pants are torn and that shirt’s nothing but a rag. March yourself back in here.” Abby shook her head. “These are from my rag bag.”

“They’re fine. I can still wear them. You work too hard,” Daniel answered.

He was sincere, but Abby could see he wasn’t being completely truthful. She tried her most penetrating glare, hoping to force the full truth from him, but it failed. His implacable expression reminded her heartbreakingly of Joshua. Idealistic. Stubborn. He was indeed his father’s son, though Daniel would deny it.

It made her sad, but there was little she could do to change things. She had never spoken ill of Joshua in Daniel’s presence. She’d simply said he’d left before she’d known she was with child and had not returned for her.

She’d explained her marriage to Liam Sullivan, so he could understand the talk about Josh being his real father. It was common knowledge, thanks to Liam, that she had married him to give Daniel a name in exchange for nursing care until Sullivan died of his injuries. But Daniel took too much abuse from his schoolmates not to be resentful of the man he saw as the cause of his problems.

Her heart aching for her tender-hearted son, Abby kissed his nose and cheek where the bright red yarn of his hat and scarf enhanced his freckles and set off his black hair beautifully.

After letting Daniel out the door, Abby sat in her rocker by the hearth, eyes closed and hands in her lap. The little house was silent with Daniel off to school, her brothers at work and her father still sleeping in his small room behind the kitchen. She’d learned to cherish the solitude the early mornings brought. She wasn’t due at Mr. Prescott’s store till noon. Some days she even caught a few more winks. But that would not be today.

A sharp rap on the front door reverberated in the small house, surprising Abby. Wondering who would be calling at so early an hour she hurried to the door before a second knock woke her father. She gasped when she pulled the door open.

Joshua!

“We need to talk,” he demanded.

Abby tried to push the door closed but he was too quick. His hand came up to stop her just as he managed to get a foot in the door. “Go away!”

“You seem to forget, Mrs. Sullivan, I own this house. If I want to gain entrance, I’ll do it.”

Abby didn’t quite know how it happened but he was soon striding through the house, shrinking it just by his presence. Abby followed him toward the sitting area near the fireplace. Her thoughts were whirling. What can he want?

Josh walked to the hearth then turned, propping his elbow indolently on the beautiful mantel her brother had carved. “So this is where you chose to raise my son.”

“I haven’t made a free choice since the night you took my virginity,” Abby spat back.

Josh raised his left eyebrow. “If my memory serves, you did more than your fair share of unbuttoning.”

Abby flew at him. Her fists balled, she struck wildly, raining blows on his chest, his cheekbone and mouth. Then in a heartbeat she found herself imprisoned against the hard wall of his chest.

“Stop it!” he barked.

Abby stared up at him. His eyes were like blue flames, his lips sealed in a straight line. He still smells the same, some stupid sentimental part of her brain remembered. His eyes changed as they held hers prisoner. His gaze was still hot and blazing but desire replaced anger. His lips came closer to hers and Abby panicked. She wouldn’t survive his kiss whole.

“Bastard!” she roared at him. Catching him off guard, Abby broke away. She took several steps backward, but refused to give more ground.

“Not me, my dear. However, our son is apparently considered a bastard by the townspeople, thanks to you.”

Abby hadn’t thought she could get any angrier. There was no way she’d strike out physically at him again and risk getting too close, but she’d not stand docilely by, either. “Well, now that’s where you’re wrong. I tried to protect him from gettin’ that name flung at him. I found a husband, but it was too late.”

“You gave my son another man’s name,” Josh charged.

“That is no one’s fault but yours, Joshua Wheaton. It was you who deserted us.”

The fire in Joshua’s eyes became an inferno. “Deserted you? I begged you to come with me. You’re the one who refused to leave here.”

“I was frightened. For God’s sake, I was only seventeen. You wanted me to sneak away. My parents would have been frantic. And my mother was doing poorly. She needed me.”

“I heard she died in childbirth not long after I left.” Abby heard true regret in his voice, and saw a flash of regret in his expression, but she looked away. Those were the most painful months of her life what with her mother’s death and Joshua’s desertion.

“So you took her place,” Josh continued ruthlessly. “You’ve cooked for her husband and sons and cleaned her house all these years. I’m sure the townspeople have nearly sainted you for your sacrifice, but tell me how they treat my son.”

“Like the bastard you made of him! I tried to hide behind Sullivan but it didn’t work. And I’ve not been sainted but condemned as the whore you made of me.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Abby ignored the ridiculousness of his question and countered with one of her own. “Why didn’t you come back for me? You could, by God, at least have acknowledged my letters. But you chose to ignore us until now Daniel’s right here under your nose. Tell me, why the sudden interest? Is the great and world-famous engineer embarrassed to be living in the same town as the little boy he fathered then ignored?”

Joshua stared at Abby; her mouth moved but he’d heard nothing since she’d mentioned having written him. “What letters?” he asked, deathly afraid to hope she’d actually tried to contact him.

“What do you mean ‘what letters'? The letters I wrote telling you about the baby I was carrying. The ones Brendan sent from Pottsville to try keeping my business private. He mailed the last one for me the day after Daniel was born.”

Joshua gritted his teeth. How stupid did she think he was? “Don’t lie. You’d already married Sullivan by then.”

Abby’s eyes flashed ice. “Why in the name of all that’s holy would I lie? Sullivan was dead before Daniel was born.”

Joshua stared at Abby’s flushed, angry face for several tension-filled minutes before responding. “Am I to believe all your supposed letters mysteriously disappeared?”

Abby glared at him then turned her back. “Leave. Leave now and don’t ever darken this door again.”

“We’ve already established that it’s my door.”

Abby whirled on him, her small fists curled up tight. “That’s right! Lord it over us. The Wheatons and their slaves. You want to know what proof I have that I tried and even begged for your help? Look around you. Look at me. Do you think I picked this life for me or my son? Do you think I like decent women holdin’ their skirts aside so mine won’t brush theirs? Do you think I like seeing my son bleeding after yet another tiff over his mother ‘the whore’ and his father who used her but wouldn’t marry her?”

It wasn’t a pretty picture she’d painted nor did it make sense. Why would she have chosen that life? She had loved him. He’d been young and stupid but he didn’t doubt her feelings back then. But why hadn’t she used the money he’d sent to follow him. “Why did you stay here?”

“After Sullivan died, I thought about leaving. Fool that I was, I believed you hadn’t been able to send help, but would soon. And Brendan thought I should wait for you. Then days after Daniel was born, there was an accident. Da lost his leg and Brendan had to start as a laborer. We couldn’t even afford the rent on this place let alone strike out for another patch with a newborn babe and a badly injured man. But you never did come back or send help and then it was too late to leave. We had the debt we owed that just kept mounting. We’ve yet to pay it off. Little Tom started working as a breaker boy, trying to help, but Brendan couldn’t let him continue. That’s how my talented artistic brother wound up as a carpenter’s helper and how Brendan, who hates closed-in places, wound up in the mines. By helpin’ support your son and his mother.”

So he owed Brendan loyalty for more than just past friendship. It looked as if he owed the man a new life—and he’d see he got it, too. For the time being though all he could do was protect him the only way he knew how. By spying on Gowery and his father during their meetings with the Pinkerton man and keeping silent about him lest Brendan, feeling a loyalty to a friend of his own, bring on the earl’s death by sounding a warning of the man’s presence.

Abby walked away then, over to the kitchen area, and stood fussing with dishes. Nervous. Flitting from place to place without any purpose. Josh looked around at the neat, tidy little shack of a home. She clearly did her best and the furniture was of unexpectedly good quality. But the structure was shabby and must barely keep them warm in the winter. “Abby, I’d like to help. I’d like to be a father to Daniel,” he said in a low voice he wasn’t sure would even reach her.

“No!”

Abby stared at Joshua. The morning sun slanted through the parlor window and glinted in his golden hair. He wants Daniel. He’s rich and powerful and he’ll take him away, a voice inside her warned. In his rock-hard gaze there wasn’t a hint of the boy who’d been all artless charm and sincere intent. But the fulminating anger of minutes earlier was gone from his eyes. That didn’t calm Abby’s anger or her fear of him and what he could do. She no longer trusted any man or her judgment where they were concerned.

“What do you mean ‘no'?” he demanded.

“No. You can’t be a father to him.”

“I am his father.”

“You can’t have him. I won’t let you take him away from me!” Abby shouted, speaking from her fear and her brother’s warning.

The angry fire blazed in Joshua’s eyes again. “Because you won’t allow it?” Though spoken in a low, quiet tone, Abby heard the threat in his question. A threat she quickly realized hadn’t been there before.

“Daniel won’t allow it,” she spat back. “He loathes you.”

Joshua grinned, but it was a grin bereft of humor. He looked like an irritated cougar. “I’ve noticed you saw to your father’s threat. Apparently Michael promised to alienate the boy in retribution.”

“Well, we didn’t. None of us want him hating part of himself. I told him his father had gone before he was born and never returned.”

“Then how did he know I was his father?”

Abby thought she would fly apart if he didn’t stop questioning her and the way she’d raised Daniel. Who did he think he was to come in here and interrogate her? She pulled out the ingredients for sugar cookies, slamming them on the kitchen table. Letting the clinking of glass bowls, the sugar and flour tins and metal measuring cups, fill the air, she let her mind drift.

Abby remembered that glorious summer when young love had caught flame and burned out of control. Then she remembered she’d been the one to get burned.

Her voice low, she told him, “That you’re his father is common knowledge, Joshua. We were inseparable, you and I, that summer and it was easy for people to count back once my condition became apparent. My marriage fooled no one.”

Joshua moved closer, probably to hear her barely audible words. “If you never spoke against me then why does he hate me?” Joshua asked. Abby almost thought she heard pain in his voice.

Blessed anger flared in her heart. She wouldn’t have it! He’d not charm her into believing he was the one wronged. If he’d lost his son’s goodwill, he deserved it. “Because having a Wheaton for a father is probably a greater embarrassment to Daniel than Daniel is to you. He also has a good head on his shoulders. He’s formed opinions all on his own about the kind of man you must be to have abandoned me.”

“And you never tried to contradict those opinions.”

“I didn’t want to lie to him, either.”

“But as you said, I’m his father and he’s a part of me.”

“More’s the pity, but don’t worry, Daniel’s a good, honest boy who’s not a’tall like you.”

Joshua smirked. “Honest? That isn’t what I hear.”

Abby forgot their earlier physical encounter and threw a measuring cup at him but he managed to deflect it. He took two quick steps and grabbed her hands before she could hurl a second cup. They struggled. Seconds later Joshua won the contest of strength and the cup skidded harmlessly across the floor as Joshua’s arms tightened around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

The encounter might have ended as before but Abby felt a bit of satisfaction this time as he held her imprisoned against his unyielding chest. She’d hurt him when he’d batted the heavy cup aside. She could see the pain in his eyes as they stared at each other, nose-to-nose, gazes locked and silently warring. Their breathing was the only sound in the room and a different kind of heat flashed between them.

Then the click of a rifle being cocked broke the deadlock and the connection between them. “I’ll be thanking you to remove your hands from my daughter, Joshua Wheaton,” Michael Kane growled.

Joshua released Abby at once and stepped back. Truth told, he had to let her go anyway. Angry as he was, he found he couldn’t be close to Abby and not kiss her. He turned to fully face Michael Kane and flinched when he saw the crutches and the empty pants leg. This was the result of the accident Abby mentioned. Damn!

Then their eyes met and Joshua felt suddenly drained. Michael looked at him as if he were the snake come to spoil the Garden of Eden. Joshua said nothing. He had no idea how to bridge the gap that lay between them. This man, who had been a father to him, hated him now. It hurt more than the enmity between him and Harlan.

“Now I’m thinking by Abaigeal’s red face that you’ve worn out your welcome here. Not, I might add, that you’ve had one ‘round here in a good many years. I’d be moving on were I you. Because, boyo, this may be your house but the gun says ‘tis still my home. Now off with you.”

Without a word Joshua turned and walked to the door. His hands shook when he unlatched it. He stopped on the threshold, unable to leave things as they were. He looked back at Michael, standing tall and proud with the aid of a crutch and a door frame, hating that he’d lost the man’s respect.

“I swear to you, Mr. Kane, I had no idea Abby had conceived my child. I’m sorry I let things go that far between us. It was my fault, not Abby’s. You trusted me and I broke that trust. I’ll find some way to make it up to you—to all of you. And by damn I’ll find out why Abby’s letters never reached me.”

Michael glared. “I know who pushed who and I don’t need you to defend Abby to me at this late date. I certainly don’t need you to tell me who was at fault. Now get out!” he shouted.

Abby stared out the kitchen window at the mountain beyond, as the door slammed behind Joshua. Could he be telling the truth? Had he really not known of Daniel?

“Don’t you be believin’ that slick-tongued devil, Abby girl. The path to pain is what it ‘tis.” She knew she should listen, but it wasn’t that easy anymore.

Joshua truly had sounded angry and as if he’d never known of Daniel. She let the joy of that thought wash over her. Perhaps Joshua really had loved her. Perhaps he would have returned for her if he had known of Daniel. But the joy was short-lived. What had happened to his supposed love for her? He had not returned for her and her alone. Tears once again filled her eyes over Joshua and his faithless love.

“I know, Da. Don’t you be worrying yourself over it. He never thought of me after this town saw the back of him. Never one letter asking if all was well. I needed him. I believed in his love, but it was a lie. I’ll never let myself forget that. And what, at this late date, could he think to do to make up for all the pain? He’s a man promised to another woman. A woman, who by the look of her, would never accept his son from the coal patch.”

“'Tis sorry I am for your heartache, Abaigeal. I wish your mother was here to comfort you, but would a hug from your old da help?” Michael leaned his back against the doorjamb and held out his long arms, calling to her. Abby ran to him and held on for dear life. Why couldn’t Joshua have been half as faithful as her own sweet da?

Daniel quickly changed his pants and shirt to the ripped ones he’d had to smuggle out of the house. He sure wished his ma hadn’t caught him leaving in them. Peeking around the end of the breaker shed, he checking to see if his Uncle Brendan had gone into the mine shaft. He saw no one ahead but Luther Dancy, who was almost to the breaker shed.

An arm caught him from behind around the middle and lifted him off the ground. “Now what would the boss’s boy be doin’ round here at this time of the day?”

“Let me go. My uncle’ll beat you black and blue if you hurt me,” Daniel shouted, squirming to get loose.

The big man squeezed him so tight Daniel couldn’t breathe. Lights exploded in his head then everything dimmed.

“Let the lad go, Dooley,” he heard in the distance. “He’s not lookin’ real comfortable.”

Daniel looked into the kindly eyes of Sean Murphy, the man who was sweet on his ma. “Help,” Daniel pleaded with what felt like his last breath.

Murphy looked suddenly alarmed. “Let the boy go now! Damn you, you drunken sot!”

Daniel felt himself falling then found himself in Murphy’s arms. “Now, there’s a lad,” he said, patting Daniel’s back. “All righty? What were you were doin’ with the likes of Dooley?”

“He came up from behind me. I’m not supposed to have nothing to do with men like him, my ma says.”

“And your ma would be right. That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” the tall, dark-haired man said as he made himself comfortable on the ground next to Daniel.

Daniel knew he had to tell the truth. Murphy might be sympathetic to his cause.

Murphy scratched his head after Daniel shared his plans. “I can see your dilemma. I faced the same choice myself a while back. Tell you what. I’ll introduce you to Luther Dancy myself and get you started. You can clean up at my place after work and maybe put off your folks finding out for a few days.”

“Geez, thanks, Mr. Murphy,” Daniel told him, wondering why so many men made fun of him.

“That’s what friends are for. We miners have to stick together. And we have your mother’s welfare in common, too, don’t we?”

The hair on Daniel’s arms stood up. He didn’t know what he’d heard in the man’s friendly words but something hadn’t sounded quite right. Murphy loved Daniel’s mother. Love was a good thing. Confused, Daniel looked up into Murphy’s eyes and relaxed. His blue eyes sparkled and his smile was kind and friendly. “Thanks again for saving me,” Daniel said.

“No problem a’tall,” Murphy replied and smiled.

It was a friendly smile, Daniel reassured himself. He’d been imagining that Murphy wasn’t what he seemed. Dooley had spooked him. That was all. He took a deep breath. That had to be all. Murphy planned to help him. Wasn’t that proof of his goodwill?