Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (10 page)

As they walked down Broadway, they passed a building covered in election posters.

“Interesting how McKinley’s posters continue to be plastered over by Bryan’s supporters,” Gabriel said as he stopped to study them.

“What a load of malarkey. Would you look at the likes of this?” Niall said pointing to McKinley and Roosevelt’s poster. “They’ve ‘kept their promises’? To whom? The bankers and money-grabbin’ robber barons?”

“Do you believe Bryan’s promise of ‘justice, liberty and humanity’?” Gabriel asked.

“I’d believe him more ’n the other two,” Larry said. “Those aren’t words I’d use for Roosevelt.”

Gabriel grunted his agreement. He studied the two posters. McKinley’s poster highlighted the differences between 1896 and now, with American rule in Cuba, bank stability and prosperity under Republican leadership. Bryan’s poster showed his belief in “equal rights to all, special privileges to none.”

“I like the octopus,” Gabriel said with a chuckle as he stared further at Bryan’s poster.

“Well, it shows how big business has tentacles everywhere. I like the lady in white there about to lop them off with her hatchet proclaiming ‘Democracy,’” Morgan said as he pointed to the woman.

“It’s just too bad the coal strike ended last week,” Niall said. “If it had lasted just a bit longer, then Bryan would’ve had a better chance.”

“Well, it’s a moot point now,” Larry said as they continued their walk toward the pub.

“Is this Marcus Daly’s pub?” Gabriel asked as they entered.

“No, another immigrant with a similar name. He’s really O’Daly, but calls his bar
Daly’s Place
. It’s the largest bar in Butte,” Morgan said.

“The largest in Montana,” Gabriel said as he peered down the length of the seventy-five-foot maple bar. Mirrors mounted on the wall behind the bar reflected the room and more casks of liquor than he had ever seen. The men elbowed their way to the bar to order their pints.

“A bit tense tonight, eh, lads?” Niall said in a hushed tone.

They all continued to speak to each other in voices barely loud enough to be heard over the din of other patrons’ conversations.

“What do you expect, with the election in a few days?” Morgan murmured.

“I shouldn’t think you’d be tense. You know you’re going to vote for Bryan,” Gabriel said.

“That’s not what has us on edge. It’s whether or not to vote for Clark as our senator,” Morgan whispered. “And whether or not we’ll get the eight-hour day.”

“Why would you vote for a man who was already thrown out for corruption?” Larry asked.

“All politics is corrupt,” Niall muttered. “Although I’d never vote for that man. Not when Daly hates ’im.”

“Would you still be paid the same for an eight-hour day as for a longer day?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes,” Larry said as he eyed the restive crowd. “And the good bosses, like Daly, are proponents, as they know it’ll lead to healthier workers.”

“And less turnover so they save money,” Niall said. “We may not be miners, but the law would affect us too.”

“But I thought Daly was now with Amalgamated, and they didn’t support the eight-hour day in the beginning,” Gabriel said. “And that Clark supported it from the start.”

“That was Amalgamated speaking, not Marcus Daly. He’s a man for the working classes,” Niall said.

“This is a Daly-supporter bar,” Morgan said in a low voice. “Clark’s people know better than to come here.”

“Is Clark as bad as they say?” Gabriel asked as he looked around.

“Gabriel—” Morgan began with a note of warning in his voice, but it was too late. The men standing around them had heard their conversation.

“If you have to ask, you don’t know what yer talking about,” a brawny man next to Gabriel hissed.

Gabriel nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “I meant no offense. I want to better understand…”

“Understand this. Any man who doubts Marcus Daly is a worthless son of a bitch. He doesn’t like Clark, and you shouldn’t neither.”

Gabriel nodded, looking toward Morgan, Niall and Larry. He saw them go rigid as they watched the men around him. He turned back toward the large man.

“And where are you from? You sound foreignlike,” the man said.

“Boston.”

“Boston?” Another man with a fiery glint to his alcohol-dulled eyes turned toward Gabriel. “You out here to spy on us for Amalgam?”

“No, no, not at all,” Gabriel said.

“You expect us to work here, dying in the mines, having our lungs rot ‘n getting miner’s con, just so you can ship those profits home to your cronies?”

“I don’t—”

“You bastard,” the large man said. He reared back, fisted his mallet-size hand and began to pummel Gabriel with a series of well-timed, sharp jabs to Gabriel’s jaw and right eye.

Gabriel fell to the floor, both from the blows and to escape the beating. He looked up to see an enraged man the size of a giant looming over him, waiting for him to rise.

“Damnation,” Gabriel muttered. A pair of hands helped pull him to his feet, and he swayed as he attempted to regain his equilibrium. He held one hand to his tender eye, noting that the majority of the patrons in the bar had given him a wide circle of space as though expecting him to fight his attacker. He glanced behind him to see Larry, Niall and Morgan standing with their fists clenched as though ready for battle. He shook his head from side to side, and then groaned with the pain that movement wrought. “I have no fight with you. I am a cabinetmaker. Trying to make my way here, same as you.”

The other man merely shrugged, turning back to his friends and his drink. Gabriel jerked as Morgan grasped him on his shoulder. “We told you not to speak about politics after Jeffers got so irate yesterday,” he snapped. “You really are an ignorant Northerner with no common sense if you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“Especially if you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Larry muttered. “I knew we should have talked about that photo from your room instead. You’d be in a damn better condition than you are now.”

“I was just trying to figure it all out. Montana politics is almost as confusing as Boston politics,” Gabriel said as he poked at his tender right eye.

“If you have questions, ask us at the Thornton when Jeffers is on break. Don’t bring the wrath of men like Cu Chulainn down on you again,” Niall said.

“
Cu
who?”

He rolled his eyes. “A strong Irish fighter. Someone you could take lessons from,” Niall said. “Let’s get you out of here before someone thinks it’s a good idea to hit you again.”

“How would I go about meeting this
Cullan
person?” Gabriel asked.

“For the love of God, do you know nothing about your heritage? He’s one of our mythical men. Read a book, talk to one of the storytellers. They’ll tell you all you’d want to know about him.” Niall pushed him in the back, helping to propel him onto the boardwalk.

Gabriel paused outside the bar, the cool air a balm to his throbbing jaw and eye. “There’s no need for me to ruin everyone’s night. I’ll make it home fine.” He waved at them as he crossed the street to catch a passing streetcar. As he boarded it, he ignored the stares of curious passengers and settled into one of the rear seats for the short ride up the hill. He closed his eyes for a few moments as he fought dizziness from the lurching movement of the streetcar.

After disembarking, he stopped in at the boardinghouse, picked up a letter from Richard and decided to go to the Egans’ house early. He attempted to ignore the insistent ache in his right eye, but, as the throbbing steadily increased on the short walk to their house, he hoped Amelia would know what to do to help ease the pain.

“Coming!” Amelia called out after he knocked. He heard a patter of footsteps at the door and little Nicholas answered.

“Hello, Nicholas,” Gabriel said. Nicholas shrieked, turning to flee toward his mother.

Gabriel touched his eye. “Amelia,” he said as he glanced in her direction. “I’m sorry I scared your boy.”

She glanced up from comforting Nicholas to study Gabriel with wide hazel eyes. “Oh my,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I hope the other man looks worse.” Wisps of honey-colored hair framed her face, her bun always loose after a day of chasing Nicholas. Wet splotches marred her ivory-colored apron and covered the front of her buttercream-toned wool dress.

Gabriel laughed. “I doubt it. He caught me off guard and knocked me down before I knew what had happened.” He patted his eye, grimacing at the light touch.

“Sit, Gabriel,” Amelia said as she pushed him toward the living room. Gabriel collapsed into the partially stuffed chair. “Nicholas, stop it. Gabriel’s been in a fight and must be tended to.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Gabriel asked on a groan as he laid his head back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment.

“They had a meeting at the union hall, then went by the pub with the hopes of meeting you there,” Amelia said.

“Well, we didn’t go to the local tonight. The men I work with wanted to go to Daly’s Place, and it was crazy.” Gabriel sighed as Amelia placed a cool, wet cloth to the right side of his face.

“I wish I had ice,” she murmured.

“This will help.”

“What’d’ye do to earn a facer?” Nicholas asked, as he climbed Gabriel’s leg like a tree branch, excited energy running off him. His russet-colored hair formed a riotous halo of curls around his head, and his dark brown eyes watched Gabriel with intense curiosity.

“I’m not sure. One moment I was talking about politics, next I was on the floor.”

“People take their politics seriously around here,” Amelia said.

“I’m learning that,” Gabriel muttered. “God, this hurts almost as bad as when Clarissa bashed my head open.”

“She did what?” Amelia asked with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

Gabriel opened his good eye to watch her. “You may find that funny, and I guess it is now, but that’s how we met,” Gabriel said with a broad smile as he closed his eye again. “I was on a ladder, and she stumbled into it and me. Felled me like a pine tree…”

“Timber!” Nicholas called out gaily in his youthful voice.

“And when I came to, my head was bashed open, and this small, magnificent woman was there,” he said. “How could I not love her?”

Amelia laughed, unable to hide her mirth. “You are a wonder, Gabriel. Most men would want their woman to have some grace.”

“Her clumsiness is almost graceful.”

“Have you heard any more from her?”

At this, Gabriel frowned. “Very little of consequence. Ramblings about the weather or school, but nothing about how she truly is. I worry about what is happening, and yet there is nothing I can do.”

“Why are you worried? She is with her family.”

“Yes, and with her stepmother and near my aunt. Two truly evil women.”

“Surely your brother would tell you if anything were occurring.”

“I would hope so,” Gabriel said. “Though he is very angry with me at the moment.”

“You live a complicated life, Gabriel. One I do not envy,” Amelia said as she patted Nicholas’s head. The door flew open, and Liam, Matthew and Ronan entered.

“Shut that door! You’re letting all of the heat out,” Amelia admonished.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Ronan said as he closed the door. “Have you seen...” He glanced around the room and saw Gabriel sprawled in one of the chairs.

“Gabriel?” Matthew finished the sentence. “What in damnation happened to you?” He unbuttoned his thick wool coat, untied a gray scarf from around his neck and took off a wool hat. He ran a hand through his black hair, setting the short strands on edge before he patted them down.

“Matthew!” Amelia scolded his language as Liam nudged him in the side with a nod toward little Nicholas.

“We hoped to meet you at the pub,” Liam said. He brushed his long mustache as he studied Gabriel and the nascent bruises forming along his jaw.

“I was invited—”

“Coerced more like,” Ronan muttered as he took in Gabriel’s swollen face.

“—to go out with the men I work with. They wanted to spend some time with me outside of work.”

“
Eejits
. They think having a bar brawl is a bit of entertainment for them?” Liam asked as he studied Gabriel. “Did you hurt your hands?” He relaxed at Gabriel’s shake of his head.

“It’s my own fault. I got this for my remarks about politics. Though I’m still unsure what I said that was so offensive.”

“What were you talking about?” Ronan asked. He hung up his jacket alongside Matthew’s and rubbed his hands together to warm them as he moved into the living room.

“The upcoming Senate election,” Gabriel said, opening his left eye to watch his friends.

“Did you mention Marcus Daly?” Liam asked.

“Probably.”

“Well, that’s why you look like you do. Those loyal to him are a bit testy at the moment,” Matthew said.

“And I thought politics in Boston was complicated,” Gabriel said on a groan.

“Don’t you read the local papers?
The
Reveille
?
The
Standard
?” Liam asked. At Gabriel’s quick shake of his head, Liam said, “Well, I’d start reading them. Then you’ll have a better idea what’s going on and what not to talk about.”

“Why is Daly so against Clark gaining the Senate seat?” Gabriel asked.

“I can’t be sure why they loathe each other. Maybe it’s because one’s Catholic and the other isn’t,” Liam said as he settled into the other dilapidated chair in the room.

“Or maybe it’s because some men can never share success,” Amelia muttered. She grabbed Nicholas and carried him toward the rocking chair where she sat to rock him.

“At any rate, there is great animosity between the two men, and they’ll go to great lengths to beat the other,” Liam said.

“It’s why Helena’s the state capitol and not Anaconda,” Ronan said. “Daly wanted Anaconda. Clark didn’t want him to win just to be ornery. Buckets full of money were spent, and, in the end, Daly lost.” He eyed the settee with Matthew sitting on the side with one leg made from books and opted to sprawl on the floor.

“So now Daly is intent on preventing Clark from obtaining what he wants?” Gabriel said.