Hope Springs (22 page)

Leave it to Katie to be the first Irish resident of Hope Springs to change Jeremiah Johnson’s perception of her fellow countrymen even the tiniest bit. No one else had managed it in the almost ten years since Johnson’s arrival.

“Oh, I meant to ask—” Katie took hold of his arm.

He felt the touch echo through him. In his mind he was immediately back on the path with Katie in his arms. That moment had only grown more detailed in his memory during the days that had passed. It had kept him up at night and driven him to distraction during the day.

“Did you get a good price for your grain?” Katie asked. “I know there has been some worry about prices this year.”

“I didn’t get as much for it as last year, but still not terrible.” He was proud of how steady his response was. Her touch upended him, and she still hadn’t pulled her hand back.

“That is a relief. I hope the others did well also.”

“So do I.” Tensions were high enough in town without adding the burden of money troubles. He’d thought on that during his trip back. It was good to have someone to talk with about it.

“We’d best get your daughters fed.” Katie took her hand from his arm and reached for a thick kitchen towel.

He liked that she’d referred to them together. They made a good “we,” he thought. But how to convince her of that?

The girls had the table set and were waiting patiently for dinner. Mrs. Claire shuffled over, taking the chair at the far end. Joseph carried the large pot of what appeared to be bean soup. Katie followed close behind with the loaf of bread. He’d missed Katie’s bread.

They weren’t more than a few bites into their meal before the girls were vying for control of the conversation. Even Emma, who tended to be very quiet, had a great deal to say.

“Some of the children at school are fighting,” she said. “Billy Archibald hit Ryan Kelly in the stomach and said he was nothing but a filthy foreigner.”

Katie’s spoon stilled halfway to her mouth, her gaze riveted to Emma. “He said that at school? Did Reverend Ford say anything about it?”

“We were out playing. Reverend Ford didn’t hear him.”

“Did anyone tell the preacher?” Katie pressed.

Emma shrugged. “Yes, but the boys hit each other enough that Reverend Ford said they were both being bad.”

Katie’s eyes shifted to Mrs. Claire, then to Joseph. They all knew that adult arguments often found their way to the schoolyard.

“This must have happened in the afternoon,” Katie said. “I was outside during your lunch-hour playtime and I didn’t notice any scuffles.”

Emma swallowed a large mouthful of soup. “They were hitting each other
after
school.”

Katie’s eyes met his. “You don’t seem terribly surprised, Joseph,” she said quietly.

“This has, unfortunately, happened before.”

Her coloring fell a little. “Is Emma in danger?” She didn’t speak above a whisper.

He set his hand on hers where it rested on the table. “Emma is fine. She isn’t likely to spend time with Billy Archibald or Ryan Kelly or any of the other children who are prone to get into a skirmish.”

Katie’s mouth tipped in a half-smile. “You’re telling me I worry too much, is that it?”

He smiled back and wrapped his fingers more fully around her hand.

His gaze happened to meet Mrs. Claire’s. She very pointedly looked at his and Katie’s hands. A grin slowly spread across the woman’s happily wrinkled face. Joseph gave her a look he hoped communicated his determination to keep things just as they were. He was offering comfort to a woman who was worried, and, further, a woman who had laid her hand on his arm only a few minutes earlier, and, further still, a woman who was not objecting to his attention.

Why isn’t she objecting?

He studied her, looking for some clue. Katie’s eyes shifted from the girls to him. Color touched her cheeks.

“It’s good to have you back, Joseph,” she said quietly. She turned her hand enough in his to take hold of his fingers. She was, for all intents and purposes, truly holding his hand.

It’s good to have you back.
She’d missed him. She was happy to have him there. A woman whose heart was wholly set on another man wouldn’t look at him that way or hold fast to his hand.

“It’s good to be back, Katie.”

Chapter Nineteen

Tavish found it odd being out on the road with Finbarr instead of Ian. He had made the harvest run with his older brother for ten years. Not having him there served as a constant reminder of the difficulties he’d left behind at home. Was Ian improving at all? Would the price they’d negotiated on their brother’s crop be enough to see his family through until the next harvest?

Did Katie miss him? She was of such an independent nature, Tavish could never be certain if she needed him around at all.

“This is a lot of lumber.” Finbarr slid a plank onto the wagon bed, not the first nor the last they’d loaded up that day. “Are you building a cathedral or something?”

“Not a cathedral. Only a very fine room.” The absolute finest he could manage, in fact.

“What kind of room?”

“I told you—a very fine room.”

Finbarr slid another plank in place without rising to the bait. He did, however, toss Tavish a look of curious inquiry. They’d been traveling together for over two weeks and hadn’t had anything resembling a lengthy conversation. Finbarr had always been that way, contentedly reserved. Tavish was more accustomed to Ian’s voice helping him pass the long hours of travel.

“I’m building a proper bedroom onto my place,” he said, answering the question Finbarr hadn’t actually asked. “A room unto itself, not the nook behind the fireplace where I’ve been laying my head these past years. Something nice.”

“Does this mean you intend to ask Miss Macauley to marry you?”

That was a surprisingly direct question, especially coming from someone as quiet as Finbarr.

“I might be.” Tavish tossed the bag of nails he’d purchased into the back with the wood. “But if you think I’ll make more of a confession than that to a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy, you’d best think that through again.”

Finbarr helped him set the remaining crates of preserves and such on top of the tightly piled lumber. Tavish would have preferred to get his supplies last, but it didn’t make sense to drive all the way back and so far out of his way. There were no better prices for wood anywhere else along his route. He tied the crates securely in the wagon to keep them from shifting.

They tied down the canvas cover over the back of the wagon bed. The topic of Katie seemed to have been dropped between them.

Tavish checked that everything was secure, then motioned his brother back up on the bench. They set off again, the usual silence between them. He’d had a profitable two weeks, if a touch disappointing. Grain hadn’t sold for as much this year as in the past. And he’d not had as many bottles of preserves or cordials or wines to sell. The upheaval of the past month had taken its toll in many ways.

Still, there’d been enough to cover the cost of his building supplies, with money left over to make his payment on his land. Once he sold the rest of his jars, he ought to have enough to live on for another year. Barring any catastrophes—he quickly crossed himself, a habit he’d learned well from his mother—he’d not have any money worries.

“I like Miss Macauley,” Finbarr said without warning.

There was an unspoken “but” at the end of that sentence. Tavish raised his eyebrows expectantly, eyeing his brother as long as he dared, considering he was driving his wagon out of a relatively busy town.

“I didn’t know you two were on the verge of making things permanent.”

How could he have thought otherwise? “I was prepared to go back to Ireland for her, Finbarr.”

He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t offer an argument.

“Spill your budget,” Tavish insisted. “I can see there’s more you’re wishing to say.”

Finbarr only shook his head.

“’Tis a long road home, brother. You might as well start talking.”

Finbarr slumped on the seat, his eyes focused ahead. There was nothing belligerent in his posture. ’Twas something far more thoughtful.

“Miss Macauley hasn’t ever come for Sunday cake with the family,” Finbarr said. “Keefe came nearly every week once he and Ciara were serious about one another.”

“Until recently, Katie was working Sunday evenings for Joseph,” Tavish pointed out. “Since then, we’ve not had many Sunday gatherings, what with Ian still not well.”

“That’s true.” Finbarr still looked thoughtful.

“Is there something else weighing on you, lad?”

Finbarr looked uncomfortable, but pressed ahead. “Do you love her?”

“Of course I do.”

Why would Finbarr wonder about that? Everyone in Hope Springs knew Tavish’s feelings for Katie.

“Mr. Archer is mad in love with her as well,” Finbarr said.

Tavish rolled the tension from his shoulders. He’d never been jealous of any man except for Joseph Archer. The feeling had actually started long before Katie had arrived. Joseph had everything. He had a fine family, a fine house. He had more money than he knew what to do with. The only thing Tavish had that Joseph didn’t was Katie’s affection. Curse the man for making him unsure of even that.

“He told you that, did he?”

Finbarr shook his head. “I can just tell. He always built the fire for her because being near the flames made her nervous. And Mr. Archer ordered her a pair of thick woolen stockings. He said she takes great comfort in having warm feet.”

Tavish didn’t know that.

“It must be an odd thing for her to have two men in love with her at the same time,” Finbarr said. “And, I’d guess, a bit strange for the two of you as well.”

“For a lad who rarely speaks a word, you certainly have plenty to say today.”

Finbarr crossed his arms over his chest. “You asked,” he muttered.

His younger brother had always had a strange knack for shifting between being wise beyond his years and being the very picture of the child he actually was. In that moment, Tavish didn’t particularly appreciate either one.

Tavish flicked the reins, setting his horses at a faster clip now that they’d reached the edge of town. As the wagon rolled, Tavish’s thoughts spun as fast as the wheels. He’d taken his future with Katie as a given thing. ’Twas a hard thing realizing that wasn’t the case. Winning over Bridget had been easy. They’d simply fallen in love with nothing to come between them, and no one to tear them apart. Even with that promising beginning, she’d been taken from him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Katie as well.

Finbarr sat quietly, his gaze focused straight ahead. Their conversation hadn’t ended well. Tavish knew they would pass an awkward week or more if they spent it in uneasy silence.

“Is that little Emma still sweet on you?” he asked.

A smile returned to Finbarr’s face. “That she is.”

“But she’s rather like a sister to you, I’d wager.” Tavish had watched his youngest brother interact with the Archer girls enough to know how Finbarr saw them. “Someday when you’re both grown and married, you’ll look back on her puppy love of you and laugh.”

A brotherly fondness filled Finbarr’s expression. “I am going to enjoy watching both those girls grow up. They are sweet little ones.”

“Aye, that they are,” Tavish said.

Finbarr gave a nod and slouched comfortably on the wagon bench. Quick as that, they were on good terms again. If only he could settle the matter of Katie’s feelings so easily.

Chapter Twenty

Katie took Biddy’s advice to heart. Time had come and passed for sorting out her terribly confused feelings.

Joseph had come by a handful of times since returning to town. He always brought the girls, then spent the evening sitting with
her.
They talked about any number of things: his worries, her difficulties, amusing stories from their pasts. He’d talked to her about the situation with Mr. Johnson, and they had decided between them that this was a rare opportunity to help the shopkeeper see her countrymen in a different light. Joseph asked her each night to play her fiddle. She wondered if he really liked the music as much as he seemed to or if he simply knew she needed it at the end of a difficult day.