Wings of a Dove (19 page)
Authors: Elaine Barbieri
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
Delaney's level gaze silently disputed that last statement, and James's flush deepened. James's low hiss followed Delaney as he turned away and walked toward the barn.
"Save yourself a lot of trouble, Marsh, and do this family a favor. Let us wake up some morning and find you gone. Because I'm warning you, you aren't going to get anything out of this family that you don't earn with the sweat of your brow. There's nothing for a
fella
like you here on this farm. Nothing, do you hear me?"
Careful to maintain a steady gait that did not betray the fury surging through him, Delaney turned into the barn and out of James Case's sight. In the shadows at last, Delaney paused in an attempt to control his rage as Case's words rang in his mind.
Why did he stay here on this godforsaken farm in the wilderness, taking abuse from a fellow he would have given the hard side of his hand without a second thought a few months ago? He could ask the Society to place him in a better home. He could be
Abruptly halting the rapid progression of his thoughts, Delaney gave a short laugh. Who was he fooling? He knew the reason he had come here and the reason he was going to stay, for a while longer, at least.
That reason was Allie. She needed him, and while she needed him, he needed her. When that need was gone he would be free to leave, but until that time nobody, especially not a redneck farm boy he could beat with one hand tied behind his back, was going to get him out. And that was that!
Delaney strode toward the ladder and started climbing to the loft.
"Sarah."
Turning from the tense confrontation between her brother and Delaney, which she had witnessed unseen, Sarah faced her mother. Disregarding the worried lines that had become all too familiar of late, she responded in a tightly controlled voice, "Why do you let James get away with it, Mama? You saw him! He was picking on Delaney again, and Delaney didn't do anything!"
Mrs. Case looked over her shoulder into the kitchen where Allie was washing the dishes. She was grateful she had not sent the child into the yard on the chores that had allowed both Sarah and her to witness the sharp exchange.
"Sarah, please. I don't want Allie to hear."
"Allie, Allie, Allie! That's all I hear!" Her voice low, Sarah continued venomously, "Well, I don't want her to hear, either, because nothing that goes on here is any of her business! She doesn't belong here!"
Her expression pained, Mrs. Case shook her head. "Sarah dear, you know that isn't true. We have more than enough on this farm, and it's only right that we share our bounty with those who are less fortunate."
"We should've taken Delaney only Delaney. He's practically a man, and he can work like one. Papa would be glad for his help if James wasn't so pigheaded. But we don't need her! She doesn't do anything but give us more work!"
"Sarah," Mother Case said despairingly, "you know Delaney wouldn't have come here without Allie. They've suffered similar tragedies, and there's a bond between them. Allie depends on Delaney, and Delaney cares about her."
Her slender body going abruptly rigid, Sarah stared at her mother in silence. Her lovely face twitched unattractively. "No, he doesn't."
"He does, Sarah. It's only natural."
"Natural." Sarah took a deep, angry breath. "I'll tell you what's natural, Mama. Allie Pierce is a baby, but I'm not, and neither is Delaney. And I'm pretty, real pretty. All the boys tell me that. So it's natural that Delaney's going to start liking me better than he likes her."
"Sarah!"
"That's right, Mama, Delaney's going to start liking me. I'm fourteen years old. I'm almost grown. Pretty soon I'll be ready for courting, and Delaney's going to start courting me. You wait and see!"
Mrs. Case cast a quick glance in the direction Mr. Case had disappeared only minutes before, but Sarah continued belligerently, "I don't care if Papa hears me, because I'm telling you, that's how it's going to be. I'm going to get Delaney for myself. You'll see."
"Sarah!"
"He's going to forget Allie Pierce ever existed! And I'm going to marry him! Then I'm going to make sure he never even talks to that skinny little orphan again!"
"That's enough, Sarah. More than enough!" With unexpected sternness, Mrs. Case raised her chin uncompromisingly. "It's time you went to your room."
"Mama…"
"Go now, Sarah, before I lose my temper. But before you do, I want to make clear that I will not tolerate another tirade like this."
Sarah was taken aback by her mother's surprisingly sharp words. "Mama…"
"Do you understand?"
Her startled expression turning to one of defiance, Sarah nodded. Turning abruptly without another word, she walked stiffly back into the kitchen.
Shocked by Sarah's insolence, Mrs. Case was still in deep thought when a touch on her arm caused her to turn toward her husband's concerned expression as he spoke.
"I'm beginning to think those two will never get along."
Margaret Case turned in the direction of Jacob's gaze and saw that he referred to the confrontation between James and Delaney. She released her breath, grateful he had somehow missed witnessing his daughter's unexpected viciousness.
At Margaret's hesitation, Jacob turned to study her pale face. "Margaret dear, you mustn't let this upset you." Caressing her cheek with a light, loving touch, he berated himself softly, "I never should've allowed you to take those two children in. You're not well enough or strong enough yet. You don't need the responsibility of two more around here, much less children with problems."
"Jacob, I could not have turned them away." The truth of those words registering in her heart, Margaret Case felt a new strength gradually transfuse her. "It will work out, dear. The hand of the Lord is in all of this, so it must work out."
Turning, Jacob glanced toward the kitchen where Allie worked, unaware of all that was going on around her. His brows knit in a frown, he glanced back toward the spot where Delaney Marsh had disappeared into the barn, and then toward his son who was walking with a stiff, angry posture toward the back field. "I don't know, Margaret. Sometimes I fear for how this is all going to turn out."
Unable to respond, realizing the situation was even more difficult than he knew, Margaret tucked her hand under her husband's arm and leaned against his side, suddenly weary and grateful for his strength.
Jacob's words echoed in her mind as they walked toward the house, and Margaret thought of the years to come. Somewhere in her heart, she worried how this all would come out, too.
1859
THE HAVEN
Chapter Seven
Delaney Gripped the reins of the wagon with a firm, practiced hand as it rattled along the dusty road to town. He had learned to handle the reins the hard way, the same way he had learned everything else on the Case farm in the last three years, the same way he had learned everything in his life. He uttered a short, sardonic laugh. He supposed he should be grateful. Hard-learned lessons were not easily forgotten.
His expression sober once more, Delaney frowned with impatience. The unrelenting August sun was hot on his back, and the air unusually heavy. He was sweaty, irritable, anxious to be off the road. Shifting the reins to his left hand, Delaney lifted his well-worn broad-brimmed hat and wiped his arm across his forehead. Replacing the hat, he made a clucking sound and slapped the reins gently against the old mare's back. She immediately picked up her pace, kicking up even greater clouds of gritty dust to settle against his damp skin as the vehicle shuddered along at a more impressive speed.
Delaney gave a low snort of reluctant approval. Bad legs or not, the old girl was as dependable as the sunrise, and completely impartial in her response to command. He recognized only too well that impartiality was a rare commodity, becoming more so each day.
He supposed that generalization applied as much to the country as a whole as it did to his personal life. The slavery question was drawing to a head, with northern states slowly drawing up sides against southern slave-owning states, and even their small Michigan town was not exempt from participation in the controversy. A few weeks before, a well-dressed rabble-rouser with all the skills of a professional had spent a few hours in town. His angry voice and wild gestures had gathered a crowd quickly as he had decried the cause of slavery. He had left a short time later to continue his crusade at the next stop on the rail line, but he had not been forgotten.
The town was generally in sympathy with the Union, but the country itself was torn apart. Delaney shrugged. He was against slavery. His own situation in life had taught him to sympathize with the slaves' plight. He believed every man should be in charge of his own destiny and be free to make his own way; but, in truth, he had not been as deeply touched by the progress of events in the country as others had. He had been too busy fighting his own war to pay much attention to the rumors circulating that the slavery question might come to just that war.
His own war was one he waged daily against James's rancor and Mr. Case's long-standing resentment at having him foisted upon the family. He knew he would continue to wage that same war as long as he remained on the Case farm. However, unlike the undeclared conflict that raged between the North and the South, he now saw an end to his own personal war in sight.
Taking a deep breath, Delaney turned his attention to the passing countryside. He had traveled this road countless times during the past three years. Unpaved, deeply rutted, it wound through heavily forested patches and land dotted with bright sunlit meadows and pastures. Clear, sparkling streams were abundant, often forming small, deep pools which had cooled him when he was overworked, overheated, and nearing the end of his patience. It was land that rolled unmarred by the hand of man for long miles at a time, and its contrast with the city where he had spent the first fifteen years of his life could not have been more distinct. Delaney absentmindedly waved away a buzzing insect. He was not sure he considered this landscape an improvement.
His tight expression softening, Delaney allowed memories of an earlier time to sweep his mind. The first nine years of his life in New York City had been dramatically different from this simple life he was now living. Pa had more than made up to Delaney for the loss of his mother by exposing him to the advantages of city living, its excitement and diversity. As a boy, he had never been excluded from the groups that gathered in fashionable rooms for intense, serious conversations which he had not always understood. He had not suffered from neglect not then.
The warmth of happy memories abruptly fading, Delaney's dark brow knit more tightly. He realized the turning point in his life and his father's had come when Pa lost his job. With it had gone all Pa's pleasant friends as well as their living quarters on the street where all the pretty matrons made a fuss over him and Pa. Their new home had been a furnished room, and the boys who attended his new school had been tough and mean. He had learned all too soon to defend himself with his fists, and he had not hesitated to do so.
Delaney attempted to shrug off the memories that followed the recollection of Pa's alternating periods of despair and painful, frustrating hope; of Pa ranting that "those bastards have fixed it for me, all right they’ve fixed it so no decent newspaper will touch me!" The memory of a policeman at the door, saying that Mr. Walter Marsh had been struck by a carriage and had died.
His vision shadowed by harsh memories, Delaney stared unseeingly forward. After his father's death, he had received a far more liberal education than the one Pa had so diligently imparted. Lessons learned on the street were taught by a hard, unrelenting hand, and Delaney had been a good student.
One of the earliest of those lessons had been that he was smarter than the average street boy and could live a reasonably good life if he used his superior wit ruthlessly. Another was that he neither needed nor could depend on anyone but himself.
Only later, when he was locked away, had he realized that he wasn't as smart as he thought that he had succeeded in getting off the streets only by going to jail. But he was smart enough to recognize his mistakes. It had not taken him long to realize that he needed to direct his energies toward a goal. He had known immediately what that goal would be.
It had been difficult to accept the fact that he would have to bide his time, accept restrictions, for a while. Then hard, bitter, wise beyond his years, and totally free of emotional need for another living soul he had agreed to go west with the Society's company.
He had not been prepared, however, for the possibility that someone might need
him.
An image of Allie's face rose before him, and the bitter memories came to a halt. He had long before admitted to himself that his concern for the little girl with the trusting eyes was a weakness he could not afford. With that admission, he had made himself a promise that he would not indulge that weakness a moment longer than was necessary.
Allowing his mind to remain on that thought for only a few moments longer, Delaney turned his attention back to the passing landscape. He had expected that Mrs. Case would send him on an errand to town today. These errands often followed a period of unusual tension in the family, and he supposed this was her kindly way of allowing him a short respite. Aside from Allie, Mrs. Case was his only ally in the Case household.
Delaney gave a short, bitter laugh. The Case family had met his expectations almost to the letter. The friction between James and himself had been instantaneous and mutual from the first moment, and relations between them had deteriorated from that point on. The numerous efforts exerted by Mrs. Case and Allie to bring them together had seen little success. As a matter of fact, it had sometimes made matters worse.
A small muscle in Delaney's cheek ticked with annoyance. If it wasn't so ridiculous, he'd think James was jealous of Allie's attachment to him. It galled him that James continually attempted to make him look bad to Allie. James had used every advantage he had as natural son of the family to do so, but for all her trusting innocence, Allie had not been taken in. Her confidence in Delaney never wavered, and although she had adjusted well to her new home, he knew she still needed him in a way she needed no one else.
Unconsciously, Delaney traced the outline of the medal lying against his damp chest in the same manner Allie was inclined to do when she was disturbed. There hadn't been much talk of "the Lady" between them since their early days at the farm, but Delaney knew Allie's confidence in her had not faltered. He knew she avoided talking about the Lady because he did not share her belief, and she wanted to spare him discomfort. He felt a familiar guilt. He knew that in spite of that knowledge, Allie somehow associated him with the Lady in her mind, and he sometimes wondered just how much of Allie's attachment to him was due to that association. He had never encouraged her to think that way, but he had never discouraged her, either, and he didn't know why.
Of all the family, however, Sarah was the true thorn in his side when it came to the volatile relations between Mr. Case, James, and himself.
Sarah had reached the womanly age of seventeen a few months back, not long after he turned eighteen. From that point on she had been relentless in her pursuit. He didn't flatter himself that his charm was the reason she seemed to prefer him to the other fellows who flocked around her. To the contrary, he was convinced that she found him appealing because he wanted nothing to do with her. His life on the streets had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh at an early age, and he could not count the times he had been tempted to take advantage of what Sarah offered him. But he wasn't about to repay Mrs. Case's kindness by lying with her daughter.
Delaney paused in his introspection. In one area, at least, his life on the Case farm had not been a total disaster. The schoolmistress provided for the district had been replaced by a strict, Scottish, maiden-lady shortly after he had arrived on the farm. Miss Ferguson had vigorously protested when Mr. Case, in accordance with the provisions of the Society's contract, had elected to pull Delaney out of school when he turned sixteen. Because of her adamancy, a compromise had been struck allowing him to visit the schoolhouse once a week to pick up books and to turn in lessons, and he would forever be indebted to the outspoken, feisty Miss Ferguson for her unrelenting dedication to his education. He had worked diligently toward the goal he had set for himself, and he was aware that the time had come to take his first step in achieving it.
The mare pulled the wagon around a curve in the road, and Main Street came into view. After drawing up in front of
Bos-y's
general store a few minutes later, Delaney jumped down from the wagon and turned an assessing glance around him.
It wasn't much of a town, just a whistle-stop on the railway line. Near the store stood the Cass County Bank, the Farmers' Meeting Hall, where people from nearby towns conducted business, the office of the
Cass County News
, the area's biggest newspaper, such as it was, and several other establishments, including a post office, a barber shop, a leather-goods store, the Silver Dollar saloon, numerous little shops, and a church to which farmers from miles around flocked every Sunday.
Still deep in thought, Delaney lifted his hat to rake a callused hand through his hair and flexed his shoulder in an unconscious attempt to
unstick
his shirt from his sweat-soaked back. In doing so, he caught the attention of two young women passing by who had not missed the changes three years had wrought in his appearance. Maturity had strengthened the strong line of his profile and firmed the cut of his jaw, adding a new potency to the gaze of his translucent eyes. He grimaced with discomfort, flashing the contrast of strong white teeth against sun-darkened skin, unmindful that the total effect was devastating on the young women who watched him.
However, the past three years had wrought other physical changes in Delaney, of which he was acutely aware and which he thoroughly enjoyed. Standing a few inches over six feet, his frame had grown in proportion with his height, every inch of him firm skin and tight muscle. He had earned that muscle with the sweat of his brow, and it gave him particular satisfaction that he now topped James by at least two inches in height and far outsized him in breadth of shoulder. He knew it galled his rival to be forced to look up at him when he spoke, because he knew James looked down on him in so many other ways. He gave a short laugh. Nature had a way of compensating.
Delaney nodded to the few familiar faces he passed as he stepped up onto the board sidewalk and strode into the general store, but he did not bother to smile. Not many people warranted a smile from him, and he cared little for damaged feelings. He was, after all, just passing through.
Giving the merchandise he passed no more than a fleeting glance, Delaney walked directly to the counter and paused with obvious impatience while the clerk concluded his transaction with the customer ahead of him. A soft tittering from the bolts of material nearby made him turn toward two young ladies the Tilson girls, Mary and Susan. Having succeeded in catching his eye, they smiled brightly. He nodded in return and turned away.
Lord save him from giggling females! Allie, for all her youth,
never
giggled. And as few as were Sarah's admirable qualities, even she didn't titter.
Averting his gaze, Delaney turned toward the far side of the store. His eyes carelessly took in the rack of ready-made clothes in the corner, the barrel of soda crackers nearby, the countless tables of miscellaneous articles covering every inch of floor space between, and the counter spread with miscellaneous knickknacks in the hope of catching the female eye. The thought had struck him when he first entered the store years before that the casual display of these items would have made them prime targets for the quick fingers of the street boy he once had been. Delaney's expression tightened. He would never walk that track again.
A roll of pink ribbon obviously left on the counter by a customer caught Delaney's eye and Allie came sharply to mind. He recalled her wistful expression just the week before when Elizabeth Morley arrived in church, her hair tied back with a similar ribbon, and he remembered thinking then how much prettier that ribbon would have looked in Allie's fine pale hair.
''What can I do for you, Delaney?"
The high- pitched nasal voice of Elmer Winthrop cut into Delaney's wandering thoughts, and turned him toward the perspiring clerk. Reaching into his pocket, Delaney withdrew a slip of paper and placed it on the counter.
"Mrs. Case would like you to fill this order and put it on her account."
Elmer scratched his balding head. "This is quite a list you got here. It's goin' to take me a little while to put the order together."
"That's all right. I've got some other things to do. I'll stop back for it in a little while."
Not waiting for the clerk's response, Delaney left the store and strode to a shop at the far end of Main Street. There he hesitated, as he had so many times in the past. Realizing that his heart had begun a rapid pounding, Delaney gave a short, self- deprecating laugh. He wasn't going to walk away this time. He was as ready as he would ever be. With a firm step, he walked into the office.
The scent of printer's ink met his nostrils, and an unexpected rush of nostalgia brought a frown to his face. His frown did not soften as he met the eyes of the short, gray-haired fellow who turned toward him.
"Can I help you, boy?"
"You're Mr. Marshall, aren't you?"
"I am."
"I'm looking for work."
The man titled his lined, heavily jowled face upward, assessing Delaney silently. "What kind of a job did you have in mind?"
"Whatever you have. I'm not particular right now."
"Right now, meanin' you got your mind set on somethin' else more positive for later on?"
Unaccustomed to suffering anybody's curiosity, Delaney replied in a clipped voice, "I'm interested in doing newspaper work, and I figured this would be a good place to start."
"Newspaper work, huh? I gotta admit, you got me guessin', boy. Aren't you the fella that Case family took in a few years ago?"
Delaney nodded.
"And aren't you under contract to them or somethin'?"
"The contract expired when I turned eighteen a few months ago. I'm free to do what I want now."
"Have you talked this over with them, boy?"
"No. There's no need. I know what I want to do. Besides, I figured you wouldn't have anything more than part-time work for me right now, since your newspaper comes out weekly."
"What do you know about this paper? What do you think you'd be qualified to do here?"
Delaney's cheek ticked as he strove to control his annoyance. "I've made it my business to read your paper every week, and I think I know the kind of news you're interested in reporting. I'm good at my letters. I can handle just about anything you'll need, and what I don't know, I can learn. With a little training I can help you set up type, proofread, or solicit ads."
The light of curiosity grew brighter in the keen eyes returning his gaze.
"You sound as if you've been around a newspaper before."
"My father was a newspaper reporter."
"He was, huh? Where was that?"
"In New York City."
"What's your name, boy?"
"Delaney Marsh."
"Marsh. New York paper, you say?" The older man's eyes narrowed into cautious slits. "What's your father's full name?"
"Walter Marsh."
"Walter Marsh, huh? Where's your father now?"
"He was killed."
"What was your mother's name?"
"Jean Delaney."
"Well, I'll be damned!"
Delaney's expression tightened.
"I'm sorry, boy. I gotta admit I had my doubts you were who you said you were, but I figure the average person wouldn't know enough about Walter Marsh to know his wife's name. I should've realized from your given name."
Delaney strained to keep his irritation under control. The effort was not lost on the gray-haired editor.
"Look, boy, it's kind of hard for me to believe that the son of Walter Marsh would walk into my office and ask for a job."
"Did you know my father?"
"No, but I read a lot about him. Your father was pretty famous for the work he did in exposin' shady dealin's in the construction of the railroads."
Delaney nodded, suspecting that if Max Marshall knew that much about his father, he probably knew more. He didn't have to wait long for confirmation.
"I heard he lost his job with the
New York Herald
because he started drinkin'. Then I didn't hear anythin' at all until the story about him bein' killed. Rumor had it that some pretty important people had it in for him, that they took their time about gettin' even, but when they did, they did a real good job. They smeared his name and"
"Dead is dead, Mr. Marshall." Unwilling to allow this sharp-minded man to dredge up painful memories, Delaney continued tightly, "Do you have a job for me or not?"
Obviously annoyed by his abruptness, Marshall squinted at him in silence. Delaney stared back in return. Max Marshall was the first to break the impasse.
"You're a hard case, aren't you, boy?"
