Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (5 page)

“But he’s not a miner,” Liam said.

“No, I’m no miner,” Gabriel said. “I am not that brave.” He gave a salute with his pint.

“So what do you do in this town as a newcomer then?” Liam asked.

“I’m a cabinetmaker, and I just found work today that should keep me busy throughout the winter,” Gabriel said.

“Ah, you have a trade then. One of the lucky ones,” Liam said.

Gabriel laughed. “I have a trade until the machines take it over for me.”

“Ah, the bloody machines,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “I’m just thankful that the mines still require men. But a day will come when the machines’ll take over there too.”

“Not while we’re alive!” Matthew said.

“No, it probably won’t affect us. But someday, lad, you’ll see,” Liam said. “Now, Mr. McLeod, are you married? Did you leave family behind before you came out here?”

“No. No to either question.”

“Ah, that’s too bad then. I’ll have to have you over to meet my Amelia and little man,” he said with a soft smile at his wife’s name.

“How did you meet her, Liam?” Gabriel asked.

“Ah, ’tis a grand story. And deserves telling more than the one time.” He gave a quick wink to Matthew. “We met when I was in Leadville. That’s in Colorado, in case you didn’t know. Another mining town, way up in the mountains. We should never have met. Me, a rough Irish miner, and her, an educated woman. She was the teacher, mind. But, I can only be thankful she’s not sensible and decided to marry me anyway,” he said with a grin.

“How long have you been in Butte?” Gabriel asked trying not to think of Clarissa and the parallels in his own romance with her.

“We decided to come up about a year ago. I had a good friend here, Jimmy McManus, God rest ’im, who recommended me to one of the bosses at the Mountain Con. We were both members of the AOH, and, with that recommendation, it was easier to find a job. I wanted to have steady work to support my Amelia, and there seemed more consistent work here than in Leadville. And the pay’s good.”

“The AOH?”

“The Ancient Order of Hibernians. A grand group of lads.”

“Does your wife like it here?” Gabriel asked.

“A mining camp’s a mining camp, though this is one hell of a town. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Gabriel and Matthew nodded.

“Though I think she likes it. She’s got no family so she left no one behind. She misses teaching, but, of course since marrying me, that is closed to her now.” He laughed. “If you asked her, all she’d talk about would be the smells and the smoke and the constant soot and dirt.”

“Gabe, you have family in Boston. And a sweetheart,” Matthew said.

Gabriel glared at Matthew for bringing up the topic. “I have brothers, yes. And I did leave … someone special behind in Boston.”

“So you’re not alone in the world? That’s grand. What does your sweetheart do?” Liam asked. He took a sip of his pint and then wiped at his long mustache as he watched Gabriel.

“She’s a schoolteacher.”

Liam smiled. “Ah, well, I hope she finds her way out here to you.”

“As do I.”

“Now we have to find someone for young Matthew here,” Liam said with a slap on his back. “You need to settle, find yourself a good woman and have yourself some babies.”

“You know that’s not likely here, Liam,” Matthew protested.

“There’s a dance coming up at the Hall. Sure we’ll be able to find you someone there,” he said. “We just need to find you a woman who’s not set on an aboveground man. Some women are becoming set against marrying a miner. I’ll talk to my Amelia about it. See what she thinks. In fact why don’t you come by the house now?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Gabriel said.

“Sure, ’tis no imposition when you’ve been invited. No, Amelia loves company. And she hates it when I spend too long at the pub. Time to be gettin’ home anyway,” he said, swallowing the rest of his pint in one big gulp and signaling for them to join him.

Gabriel glanced toward Morgan, Larry and Niall, waving his departure with Matthew and Liam. He followed them into the crisp night air, shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature.

“Winter’s on her way, and it’ll be a beast,” Liam said.

“It can’t be worse than what I lived through in Ohio,” Matthew said.

“You might have known snow there, but you’ll never have known a cold that goes to your bones and doesn’t leave you for months like you do here,” Liam said. “I’d buy some new clothes if I were you.”

They began the slow walk up Main Street toward Centerville. “Why don’t we take the streetcar?” Gabriel asked. The streetlights at the intersection of each street flickered on providing faint illumination. Men wandered in and out of bars, cafés and boardinghouses as they continued up the hill. Thick clouds along with the normal soot and smoke prevented any stargazing.

“It’s good exercise, and I spend enough of my time unable to see the sky,” Liam said. “Matthew, that brick building over there is our Miner’s Union Hall. I’m sure you’ll spend some time inside. Our next meeting is in a few days.” Liam nodded to a brick building with floor-to-ceiling windows on the first floor and long arched windows on the second.

“I’ll be there, Liam,” Matthew said.

Upon their arrival in Centerville, they turned down La Platte Street toward a row of identical one-story stuccoed homes with small front porches.

“Here we are, then,” Liam said at number six. “Amelia, I’ve brought some friends home to meet you,” he called out as the door swung open.

A loud child’s cry rent the air followed by a soft cooing noise.

“Nicholas, you mind your mum!” Liam said as he entered the small hallway.

A small naked boy ran toward Liam on short, chubby legs hurling himself against Liam’s calves.

“Nicholas!” a woman’s breathless voice called out from the kitchen area. She stood in its doorway at the edge of the dining area, exasperation evident in her expression. “You will have your bath,” she said severely. She marched over to Liam, plucked little Nicholas away from Liam’s ankles and carried him, kicking and screaming, back toward a tub in the kitchen.

“If this is a bad time,” Gabriel began.

“No, for Pete’s sake, stay. It’ll calm her to have to entertain,” Liam said. “That’s Amelia,” he said with a quick wave to the woman making a hasty retreat.

“Are you sure about that?” Gabriel asked as he watched large droplets of water flying freely from the vicinity of the kitchen.

“Give me a moment. I’m just going to give her a hand and put the kettle on,” Liam said. He left them in the living room. “Nicholas Patrick Egan, if you don’t start behavin’…” Liam began.

“Hush, love,” Amelia murmured. A few whimpers and then the sound of Nicholas being lifted out of the water to be dried. “Now it’s time for bed, little man, and no tomfoolery, as your da would say.” She emerged with his swaddled form and carried him to a small room off the dining room.

Liam returned to find Gabriel and Matthew studying the small living room, trying not to focus too much on the goings-on in the next room. Filled with mismatched furniture, the living room had two upholstered chairs and a settee with one leg made out of a pile of books. A rocking chair sat in the far corner next to a reading lamp set on an overflowing bookshelf. Fading wallpaper adorned the walls, its once-white background now resembling weak tea with the rose-colored flowers faded to puce. A small throw rug lay between the chairs and settee.

“Please, you are very welcome,” he said, pointing to the living room. He sat in one of the upholstered chairs covered in threadbare red velvet with half its stuffing missing. “Ah, domestic bliss. Sure’n you don’t want this?” he said with a broad smile.

Gabriel laughed. “It reminds me of my home when I was a young child.” He sat in the rocking chair while Matthew sat in the other upholstered chair.

“Are you not married then?” Amelia asked as she reentered the room. “I’m Mrs. Egan.”

Gabriel stood. “Ma’am, I’m Gabriel McLeod.” He towered over her as she barely reached midchest.

“Matthew Donovan.”

“Delighted. Tea will be ready soon,” she said with an informal smile, settling her small frame on the arm of Liam’s chair. “Mr. Donovan, are you my Liam’s new partner? It’s lovely to meet you at last.”

Matthew blushed and bobbed his head.

“And neither of you are married?” She pinned them with her almond-shaped hazel eyes. She brushed at her honey-blond hair, falling free after the exertions of Nicholas’s bath.

“No, love, though Gabriel left a sweetheart in Boston,” Liam supplied, reaching up to hold her hand.

“Boston. Well, then, we’ll have to see about getting her out here. Not good for a big strapping man like you to be all alone,” Amelia said. “But there’s no one waiting for you at home, Mr. Donovan?”

“No, ma’am.”

“The fall dance is coming up, isn’t it, Liam?” At his quick nod, she continued. “We’ll see about finding you a nice bride.”

“Now I’m not so sure I am ready to settle down just yet,” Matthew said with a note of panic in his voice.

“Isn’t that what all men say, and then they find it’s to their liking?” Amelia asked. She elbowed Liam in his shoulder, and he grunted his agreement. “’Tis true,” she said with a pointed glance as the kettle squealed, and she rose to fill the teapot.

“Mr. McLeod, which mine do you work at?” she called out from the kitchen.

“I don’t work at a mine, ma’am. I am a cabinetmaker, and I just began work at the Thornton Block today.”

“Now that is something. But you chose to come to Butte? Even though you aren’t a miner?”

“Matthew convinced me it was the place to be between San Francisco and Chicago,” Gabriel said. “Though I had been planning on settling in San Francisco.”

“And San Francisco might have been a more appealing city for your sweetheart. It’s hard to convince women to come to Butte,” Amelia said.

“I have begun to fear that,” Gabriel said.

“The soot, the dirt. It’s not all that attractive a place to look at.”

“Amelia…” Liam said with a note of warning.

“You tell me, Liam Egan, if this is your version of paradise? It surely isn’t mine.” She turned back to address Gabriel and Matthew. “Though you won’t find a better place for community and supportive neighbors.”

“You have to admit, the gardens are a nice addition,” Liam said.

“They are, and thankfully there is a streetcar that will take us to them.”

Matthew and Gabriel shared a quick glance. “The gardens?” Matthew asked.

“Columbia Gardens. One of those copper barons, Clark, set up a park that is gloriously different from the rest of Butte. Green, with a creek rolling through it. It’s wondrous. We like to go there when Liam has a day off and take Nicholas, so he can romp around in fresh air,” Amelia said as she passed out cups of tea.

“We’ll be headed there tomorrow, won’t we, Amelia?” At her quick nod, Liam continued, “Why don’t you come with us?”

“I would, but I must work,” Gabriel said.

“I’d love to,” Matthew said.

“Well, you’ll have to come with us next time, Mr. McLeod. We try to go there as often as we can as the weather is changing. It will be winter again soon.”

CHAPTER 4

I PAUSED OUTSIDE of Savannah’s new home, momentarily taken aback by the imposing building. The four-storied redbrick home with black shutters and mansard roof—over twice as large as the neighboring homes—was situated on a corner lot on Marlborough Street in the Back Bay. The front garden bloomed with late season dahlias, their bright and varied colors a contrast to the austere red and black of the house. I approached the black walnut door, large enough for a horse to enter, and rapped the brass knocker. A circular window above the door allowed light to enter the two-storied entrance hall.

A distinguished butler in formal black and white welcomed me inside. I tripped as I stepped from marble to hardwood floors covered in plush red Turkish carpets. The butler gripped my arm, frowning his disapproval at me as I removed my coat. The front hall had a large coat rack, and a small table and mirror. On the table an iridescent turquoise vase held a large bouquet of ruby-red dahlias. I peered down a long hallway that led toward the back of the house but was escorted to one of the two doors that opened directly onto either side of the front hall. The ornately carved staircase had two landings leading to the upper floors.

“Savannah!” I exclaimed as I entered the formal living room, elated at seeing her for the first time since her wedding over three months ago. Savannah watched me as she approached at a sedate pace and held out her hands. I thought of our reunion last spring when she had flung her arms around me in a fierce hug and given a whoop of joy to see me. And that had been after a visit to Aunt Betsy’s for a few short weeks, rather than a three-month separation.

I studied Savannah, upset to see that she held herself rigidly, as though she feared placing a foot out of place. Her strawberry-blond hair was tied back in an intricate chignon. Clothes from her trousseau hung on her, a clear indication she had lost more weight since her wedding. Most alarming was the cold, disinterested look in her eyes. I felt like she could have been interviewing a new maid for all of the enthusiasm she showed. I dropped my arms and clasped her hands, fighting tears at her welcome.

“This is quite a house, Sav,” I murmured. “Very imposing.”

“Yes, well it’s what Jonas wanted,” Savannah replied as she turned toward a seating area in the formal parlor. I stifled a groan to find Jonas awaiting our arrival. I had hoped to have time alone with Savannah after so many months.

“Hello, Jonas,” I said with a small smile, determined to be outwardly friendly.

“Clarissa.” He refrained from standing but gave a mere hint of a nod in my direction. He wore an impeccable slate-blue suit with matching waistcoat and pristine white shirt with stiffly starched collar and cuffs. Ruby cuff links matched a pin on his lapel. His short muddy-brown hair was parted to one side with an excess of pomade to keep it in place.

I studied the room as I sat in stiff formality on one of their new lady’s chairs covered in cream-colored silk. The front wall consisted of bow-fronted windows with a comfortable-looking bench nestled next to the windows. I imagined myself curling up there in the sun to read on a lazy day. The fireplace with red and gray marble inlay was opposite the doorway. The far wall was not connected to the dining area, and along it there was a large portrait of some important ancestor from Jonas’s family. The wood parquet floors gleamed, and the areas not covered by expensive Turkish carpets had a mosaic pattern of delicate rosewood.