He stood among the other adults waiting for school to let out. Even now they were clearly divided. The Red Road parents stood by the mercantile; the Irish stood outside the smithy. Everyone’s eyes darted between the school and the rival gathering, discomfort and, in many cases, downright hatred in their expressions.
How have we come to this?
“Back inside, Paddy, where we don’t have to look at you.”
The sneering command from the gathered Red Roaders pulled all the Irish eyes in that direction. Katie stood on the mercantile porch with her broom in hand. Tavish took a step toward her, but Mr. Johnson appeared on the porch. Tavish worried he’d only cause her more trouble if he made a scene.
Mr. Johnson said something. Katie nodded immediately and stepped back into the mercantile.
The children began emerging from the schoolhouse. Reverend Ford dismissed the Red Road children first. They rushed over to their parents. When the Irish children were dismissed, they did precisely the same thing. Even with the two groups separated by the wide dirt road, the movement of so many bodies was chaotic.
Tavish craned his neck searching for his own nieces and nephews. He had Michael at his side first. His sister’s brood found him next.
“We’ll just stay a moment and make certain all the children have someone to walk them home, shall we?” he asked his charges.
They all agreed, though he could see the idea of standing still for any length of time was not their favorite suggestion.
As the crowd began trickling away from town, they were careful to keep to their sides of the road. Most people lingered outside their chosen business establishment, chatting with one another and listening to their children speak of their school day.
Tavish caught sight of Katie carefully weaving her way through the Red Road crowd, receiving glares and words of disapproval for her efforts. She kept her chin up throughout the ordeal.
“Katie!” a little voice called out. At the edge of the Red Road crowd, Ivy Archer pulled away from the grip of a woman Tavish recognized from church the Sunday before.
She was the Archers’ new housekeeper. The woman, as far as he’d been able to tell, didn’t smile, didn’t truly frown, and had very decided ideas about everything. Mrs. Smith had accepted the reverend’s odd way of introducing new arrivals in town. When told she would find herself best suited to the red side of the chapel as opposed to the green, she’d thanked him for his concern, explained that she was charged with the welfare of the Archer girls and, thus, would sit with them, and took her seat on the centered back pew with the Archer family. It was far from the reprimand Katie had given the preacher but, still, it was the second refusal to comply in as many introductions. Tavish had seen the confusion in Reverend Ford’s eyes and something like doubt creeping over his expression.
Katie was, at that moment, surrounded by Emma and Ivy Archer and, if Tavish was recognizing her correctly, the little Johnson girl. They stood in the middle of the road. Katie’s gaze shifted between all three girls as each spoke over the other. Her smile was genuine. Tavish couldn’t help a smile of his own.
“Shall we see if Miss Macauley wishes to rove home with us?” he asked his nieces and nephews.
They agreed and followed him as he moved in Katie’s direction.
“Mama will have warm cookies waiting,” the Johnson girl was saying. “I am sure she’d let us all have some.”
Katie, it appeared, was included in the invitation. Had she actually managed to be on friendly terms with any members of that family?
“’Tis a sweet offer, Marianne, but I’ve a great deal of bread to be cooking this afternoon. I have to rush home, I’m afraid.”
“That’s quite enough loping about, girls.” Mrs. Smith stood behind the Archer girls, her usual stern expression in place. “I have too much work to do to be standing here.”
“Couldn’t—?” Ivy bit down on her lip. “Couldn’t we—?” She didn’t finish the question.
Emma didn’t speak either.
Katie’s happy expression turned concerned. “The girls have been invited to enjoy some warm cookies with their particular friend Marianne Johnson. I believe they’re wishing to ask permission to accept.”
Tavish enjoyed seeing this side of her. She’d been so uncomfortable around the wee ones when she’d first arrived in Hope Springs. Her natural kindness had finally broken through the worry of uncertainty.
Mrs. Smith’s face didn’t transform in even the tiniest way. “I believe I already told the girls that it was time to go home,” she said to Katie. “Come along, children.”
“Yes, Mrs. Smith,” they said in near-perfect unison and followed their housekeeper down the road home.
Katie gave Marianne an empathetic look. “I am sorry your friends couldn’t stay for a bit.”
Marianne didn’t look devastated. “Mrs. Smith doesn’t work Sunday afternoons. Emma is going to ask her papa if she can come to my house after church.”
Katie nodded in approval. “A fine idea, that. I’d wager it’ll work perfectly.”
Marianne giggled and skipped off toward the mercantile, waving back at Katie as she went.
“You’ve made a fine friend, there, Sweet Katie.”
“Aye. Marianne’s a dear little girl.” She turned around to face him. “I saw you hovering about. Wondered if you meant to say good day to me or not.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She looked at the children hanging about him. “Have you picked up a few strays?”
“Aye. No one wanted this scraggly bunch, so I’m taking them down the Irish Road to see if anyone’ll take pity on them and feed them lunch.”
Katie winked at his niece Margaret. “I can think of a couple houses where I imagine they’d be welcomed.”
Margaret giggled. “Ma’ll let us in.”
Tavish set his features in an expression of dawning understanding. “Then I suggest we take you there first.”
“Excellent idea,” Katie said.
“Come on, Uncle Tavish,” Margaret pleaded. “Can’t we go yet?”
He motioned them off. “But don’t get so far ahead you can’t hear or see us, understand?”
They nodded eagerly and began walking quickly up the road.
Tavish offered Katie his hand. She took it, and they followed after the children.
“So what did you do at work today, Sweet Katie?”
“Mr. Johnson had a fancy word for it, but mostly I just moved things around. What he thought would sell more during the winter was moved out onto the displays. The things he thought wouldn’t sell much until next summer I moved into the storeroom.”
’Twas no wonder, then, she looked so tired. “That is very demanding work.”
She tossed him a saucy look. “Oh, I’ve muscles enough for it, I assure you.”
“If only I could convince you to come move things about at my house.” He spoke as though it was entirely a jest, but having Katie at his home, and not at all as an employee, had been on his mind a great deal lately.
“I’ll not undertake putting your place to rights, Tavish. I’ve heard whispers up and down the road that you’re tearing things apart over there. You’ve some great secret project going on, I’m told.”
His neighbors were likely saying that very thing. The Irish took great delight in pulling stories the way others pulled taffy. “’Tis no great secret. I’m building onto my house is all, adding some extra space.”
“I don’t believe that boring explanation for a moment. You’re digging a tunnel to the ocean or something, aren’t you?”
He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. You’ll give away my dastardly plan, you will.”
Her smile of amusement set his entire day to rights. He slipped his hand free of hers and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side as they walked.
“Do you know where you ought to dig that tunnel to?” Katie went on.
“Where?” ’Twas a fine thing to have her at his side again.
“I’ve heard tell that north of Belfast there is a place where the rocks are tall towers, with sides fitted together like puzzles. Thousands and thousands of them all pressed together.” Her expression was distant and longing. “I always wanted to go there, to see if it’s as amazing as it sounded.”
“The ‘Giant’s Causeway’?”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve heard of it?”
He nodded. “But I never got to see it either.”
“You should dig your tunnel to
there,
Tavish. We could have our Irish Day at the Giant’s Causeway.”
“Our Irish—?” His deliveries and building project had pushed that idea clear out of his thoughts. “I’d forgotten. We do need to do that.”
“I thought it might have slipped your mind—along with your promise to show me the ‘finest view in all of Hope Springs.’”
He’d forgotten that as well. It’d been weeks and weeks since he’d told her about his favorite spot in the valley. He never had taken her there.
“You could come around just for a bit of gab, you know,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be a fancy, planned-out sort of day.”
“I do need to come by more. Or”—another idea jumped into his mind—“you should stop by and see what I’m building. We could make a picnic of it.”
“In this weather?” She shook her head as though it were the most nonsensical thing she’d ever heard. “We’d fair freeze to death.”
“An indoor picnic, then.”
“That would be nice.” She threaded her arm through his. “I’ve not seen much of you, and I . . . I need to have some time with you, Tavish. That likely sounds very, I don’t know, silly or—”
Tavish squeezed her arm with his. “Not silly at all. What kind of courtship is this if we never see each other?”
She didn’t react to the word “courtship.” He didn’t know what to make of that.
Raised voices up ahead interrupted his pondering. In the length of a single breath, Tavish knew precisely what was happening. Damion MacCormack and Bob Archibald were standing nearly nose to nose on the road, shouting at one another.
“Tavish, the children.”
Of course, that had to be the first priority. “Michael,” he called out, getting the boy’s attention quickly. “Take your cousins home without delay. You hear me?”
Michael took charge immediately. He was a boy much like Finbarr, mature beyond his age. He could be counted on to see through any task he was given.
Katie had already slipped from Tavish’s side, guiding the other Irish around the coming scuffle, offering encouraging smiles to the children.
Tavish knew he couldn’t reason with Archibald. No one could, not even the others on the Red Road. The man’s temper was beyond legendary. But Damion could sometimes be talked down. He strode to where they were growling and glaring and spitting words at one another.
“This is hardly the time or place.”
“Stand off, Tavish,” Damion warned. “I’ve reason enough to settle this now.”
“True though that may be, it can wait.”
“Isn’t that just like a Paddy,” Archibald sneered. “You take his side because his blood is green like yours.”
Tavish shot him a look of warning. “Keep running your mouth like that and you’ll find out just what color your own blood is, Archibald.”
“Is that a threat?” He ground the words out through his teeth.
Tavish took a breath to keep himself calm. “No. It’s a reminder that brawling in the street isn’t going to solve anything. And there are children about.” He looked at both of them. “Are you willing to risk their well-being so you can feel like big men, throwing your fists to prove something?”
Archibald shoved him hard in the chest. Though Tavish was more solidly built, the attack caught him off guard. He stumbled back a single step before regaining his balance.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Tavish warned in a low, deliberate voice.
“Do you intend to fight back?” Archibald seemed amused by the thought.
Tavish shook his head. “But I’m not going to stop him”—he motioned at Damion with his head—“from having at you. Perhaps you didn’t know he was a prizefighter in Galway.”
For the first time, Archibald looked less certain of himself. Tavish glanced about. The children had all been herded down their respective roads. No one was near enough to be hurt except the two men who’d brought it on themselves. It might even break some of the tension hanging over the town to let a couple combatants go at each other to their hearts’ content.
Katie stood near the bridge, watching him and waiting. He gave her a quick wave to assure her he’d be there in a moment.
To Damion he said, in a voice loud and clear enough for Archibald to understand, “Just don’t
kill
him.”
He didn’t look back as he walked to where Katie stood. He knew the sounds of a scuffle when he heard them. The men hadn’t wasted any time.
“You didn’t stop them?” Katie asked, surprise and concern in her tone.
“When two people are that determined to lay into each other, sometimes the only thing to be done is delay them until there’s no one else about to get caught in the brawl.”
Her worried gaze remained on the road behind them. “Fighting can’t be the answer. People only get hurt that way.”
She’d not been in Hope Springs long enough to truly understand. “The tension’s been thick since before the harvest run.
This
will release some of that.”
“This is brutality.”
He followed her gaze. The men were, indeed, beating each other good. Tavish turned her face away with the lightest pressure of his hand. “Watching it isn’t going to help, sweetheart.”
“But pretending it’s not there doesn’t make it go away.” Clearly the situation upset her more than he’d expected it to.
“They’d have been fighting eventually. I’ve seen it often enough. It’s either the two of them looking like fools on an empty road, or dozens of people slugging it out with no regard for the welfare of anyone who might be nearby.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “I know it isn’t pleasant, but it is what it is.”
“You’ve given up, then?”
“Not given up. I’m only hoping to keep the town from actually killing each other while we search for some kind of real solution.” He tried to coax a smile from her, but it didn’t work. “Come on. I know you’ve bread to make today.”
She nodded and went with him, but her eyes remained clouded.