Winter Hearts (27 page)

Holland’s self-satisfied look dropped from his face. “That’s where he went, out west? Luke was nothing but the common son of a butcher from Jamaica Plain. He amused me for a while. Don’t tell me you fancied him too.” There was neither shame nor regret in Holland’s tone or expression.

“No, I didn’t fancy him,” Sam said. “I fell in love with him. I’d still be living with him if the uncles hadn’t dragged me back here.”

“So you like workingmen too. See, Samuel, we are alike after all.”

“We’re nothing alike. Now stay out of my way, or I will let everyone know who you are and what you do.” When Sam stood up, Holland stood with him. In an instant Holland’s hands were around Sam’s neck, and he was slammed into the wall.

With Holland’s red face and bulging eyes just inches from his, Sam could barely hear as his breath was cut off. “You will keep your mouth closed, or I will arrange for it to be closed permanently.”

Sam had been taken by surprise, his air cut off before he could fight back. The hallway swam before his eyes, and he was about to pass out when Holland released him and fell to the floor.

Clutching his throat, Samuel looked at Jeffers. “As you can see, sir, I do have my uses,” the man said. He squatted beside Holland with a hand on his shoulder. “Allow me to help you up, Mr. Endicott.”

Sam stepped over Holland and hurried down the stairs into the entrance hall. Just as he reached the ballroom door, Isobel, in a flood of tears, was being escorted out by her parents. Trailing after them were Sam’s parents, apologizing profusely. He waited for the Quincys to leave, and the moment the front door closed, his father said, “In my study. Now!”

The fire was always lit in his father’s study since the man spent much of his time there. Samuel Porter-Smith the second stood with his back to the hearth while Sam’s mother sat in a chair holding her forehead as if she were overcome with fatigue or perhaps ennui.

“How could you lead poor Isobel on and then let her down like that, Samuel?” she asked.

“I didn’t lead her on, Mother. You did. Both of you. You kept inviting Isobel here and throwing us together. You dragged me off to every soiree she attended. You and the Quincys had our marriage all arranged without ever asking either of us what we wanted.”

Pacing before the fire, his father said, “How dare you! Isobel would have been happy to marry you. It is only you who wants to ruin your own life while everyone around you is trying to salvage it.”

Enraged and sick of being told what he was to feel and whom he was to care for, Sam burst out, “I am in love with Luke Chandler, the man you had arrested. You might as well have us both arrested, because I will get him back if I possibly can. Right now he hates me.”

“I don’t want to hear about that man!” his mother cried so dramatically that Sam almost laughed despite his anger.

“Mother, perhaps you could answer a question for me. Why did you write to me telling me Father was deathly ill and that was why I needed to come home? There was not a thing wrong with him when I arrived, and he seems very healthy now.”

With a cry, she got up and ran from the room.

“Samuel, how could you!” his father shouted. Then, seeming to remember that there were a hundred or more guests in the house, he lowered his voice. “I shall disinherit you.”

“If you wish, Father, but with Grandfather’s money, I am free to live my own life. I will not marry. I won’t. Disinherit me if you want to, but you have been training me since childhood to manage the family business, and you know I am the only man for the job.”

His father’s angry silence was his acknowledgment that he spoke the truth.

“I want to do something useful with my life, and I don’t see how marrying a woman I cannot love is useful. We’d both be unhappy after a very short time.”

An exasperated snort split the air, followed by, “Farming in wild country is useful? There is no shortage of men who can do that. Men who do not have the wealth, education, and privilege that you have.”

“Father, I realized when I went west that men taking up claims are often ill-equipped to run them, without the slightest clue how to farm. I was one of them. They end up giving up their claims and returning home with no money and a family to feed. The agricultural college I want to start will prepare them for the land. I believe I can get it up and running within a year, giving either one- or two-year diplomas.”

Finally his father stopped pacing, and when he spoke, he was calmer. “I don’t see why you can’t be married and run a college. However, I agree the college is a very worthy endeavor. It is in the best tradition of what our class believes in, philanthropy and personal excellence. I will support you in that. But I will not give up on your marrying and producing an heir. Now go and apologize to your mother.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam strode to the door, where he stopped and turned around. “Father, please tell Jeffers you no longer need him. His presence is cumbersome, and it will not change my mind.”

His father leveled a long, hard look at him. “I did not employ Jeffers to ensure you would marry. I employed him to prevent you from making the same mistake you made in Dakota Territory and bringing shame on the family.”

Sam sighed. “The man I love is still there. There is no one else I want, so have no fear. Now please dismiss Jeffers.”

“If you mention that man or any other in this house again, I will horsewhip you.” Samuel Porter-Smith the second turned his back on his son.

It was probably a bad idea to say anything further, but he’d a lot of bad ideas in the past year, the first of which was lying to Luke. “Holland Endicott sees men. He goes to River Street and probably other places to pick them up. He propositioned me upstairs just now.”

Fury contorting his expression, his father whirled around to face him. “I have heard rumors about Holland Endicott, and I care not whether they are true. He married May, and they have children. On the surface he leads a respectable life, and any peccadilloes he may indulge in he keeps to himself. Why can’t you do that? Despite your cruelty to Isobel this evening, I’m sure she would still accept you.”

Sam left the room in search of his mother.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sitting room behind the butcher shop was as cramped as ever, but it was also as spotlessly clean and well kept as it always was. The fire in the grate was cheerful. The meal Luke had just eaten with his mother and brother in the kitchen was plain but delicious. They’d always had lots of meat if nothing else, and his mother knew how to cook the cheap cuts really well in hard times. But the shop was making a gain these days with Adam now old enough to run it. The moment supper was finished, Luke’s younger brother had run upstairs to ready himself to go out.

Luke sat in his father’s worn but comfortable chair on one side of the narrow fireplace while his mother sat on the other.

“You look handsome, Luke.” He wore a white shirt with a tie and a suit he had bought from Power’s Tailor Shop ready-made. Nothing very fancy but certainly smart. He had thought he’d be attending a funeral. He had shaved his face with great care before he left with the new shaving kit from Sam, but he was due for another shave and hadn’t had time yet.

“You look tired, Ma.” His mother was in her midfifties, but worry and her husband’s prolonged illness had worn her down. Her shoulders sagged, and her hair was graying.

“I can’t complain. The girls are doing well. Rose writes from out west every month. I’ll show you her letters tomorrow. She has a baby girl now. Petronella has opened a milliner’s shop, of all things. You must go by to see her this week.” She smiled. “Alice and Violet are happily married, and Adam has his girlfriend.”

As she spoke, Adam popped his head around the door, freshly shaven, his hair brushed back with water. “Soon to be my wife, if I’m lucky. I’m taking her to the music hall, but I’ll bring her over later to meet you, Luke. Bye!” They heard the back door close behind him before they could reply.

“I’d like to meet her, but I was thinking I might go out for a while,” Luke said.

“She’s a nice girl. She’ll make him a respectable wife.”

“Ma.” Luke reached across the short space between them and took her hand. “I’m so sorry I missed Dad’s funeral. It’s busy on the claim. I only get to town once in a while. I should have picked up the mail.” He was lying, but it hardly seemed to matter. He could never tell her about Sam and how he couldn’t bear to see anyone after the young man had left. He was only grateful she’d never find out about his arrest. “I got two months’ worth of letters at the church on Christmas Day.”

She squeezed his hand. “Never mind, Luke. Rose couldn’t come either. Your father knew you loved him. I’m only glad you’re going to church again.” He wasn’t, but what the hell? “Will you have another piece of cake?”

“No, thank you.”

With a hopeful look brightening her face, she said, “Are there any pretty girls out on the prairie?”

He’d known that was coming sooner or later. “Ma, some men are meant to be bachelors. I’m one of them. You’ve got grandchildren. You don’t need any from me.”

“But you might be happy if you settled down. You won’t know till you try it.”

“I’ll think about it.” Though he had been home only a day, he needed to get away for a while. He wanted to be there with his mother, but the questions about his private life, which would start coming thick and fast when he spent any time with the girls, would spoil it. Why couldn’t they get on with their lives and let him get on with his? “Ma, I thought I might go out for a beer or two. Would you mind? I tend to stay out of the saloon in De Smet. It’s mostly a lot of young men playing pool. I’m too busy for that. It’s been a while since I’ve had a beer.”

She patted his hand. “Of course I don’t mind. I’m only happy you’re here, and you’ll stay awhile, won’t you?”

“A month or two. My claim is safe, and my stock is being looked after until spring by my neighbor, Mr. Ingram. I’ll help in the shop tomorrow. Give Adam a day off. I haven’t forgotten how to butcher meat.”

Her smile warmed him as it always had. “You go and enjoy yourself. I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with a man having a drink now and then. You might bump into some of the boys you grew up with at the Crown. Most of them are still in Boston.”

Luke rose and kissed her on the cheek before taking his jacket from the peg in the hall. Boston was much milder than out west, and he didn’t need his buffalo coat. He left through the back door as they always did when the shop was closed, though he had no intention of going to the Crown.

On the dark, damp street, Luke found the streetcar stop and took the streetcar to Washington Street near Province Street. It wasn’t that he was actively looking for men to have sex with. He wasn’t. But if he met one, he decided he would not say no. It was over between him and Sam. Sam was getting married, and even if he wasn’t, Luke didn’t want him back, not after the lies and the arrest.

He didn’t want to meet Holland either, assuming the man was still an adulterer. Holland had always favored the tavern on River Street where the men were somewhat rougher. The area between Province Street and Newspaper Row was known for catering to working-class men like Luke in all-male taverns. There was even what was referred to as a Turkish bath for men only, but he’d never been there. Around Pinckney Street on Beacon Hill was the area where wealthier men and theater types went to meet like-minded people, but he was comfortable with men like himself.

In a tavern he had visited many years before, he leaned both elbows on the polished wood bar, put his foot up on the brass rail, and ordered a beer. By his second beer, he needed a distraction because he began thinking about his father. If he hadn’t been so self-involved, he would have gone to town and gotten the letter. He’d have been there to say a proper good-bye. Between his father and Sam, he had lost two men he loved in the space of a few months.

“Do you want a refill?” the bartender asked.

Luke nodded, tossing some coins on the counter. One more beer and he’d get maudlin, but he didn’t care.

Without actually looking, Luke felt a man move in close to him. “Do you want a whiskey to go with that?” the man asked.

“I don’t drink hard liquor.” After downing half his third pint in one go, he looked at the man. Seeing smooth, sandy hair and a moustache, he was convinced just long enough to swing his fist that Holland stood beside him.

“Shit!” The man dodged the blow.

Blinking until he came into focus, Luke realized the man was a stranger. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Sorry.”

“Thank God I’m not; you’d probably have killed me.”

Luke threw more coins on the counter. “Give him a drink.” He patted the man on the shoulder, apologizing again, before he took his glass and walked to a table where he sat down alone. Either he should drink more often or not at all if two and a half pints of beer could make a big man like him so drunk that he tried to punch a complete stranger. More slowly he finished the rest of his beer, leaning forward, avoiding looking around so no one would think he was inviting company. He’d finish this one and leave. It was a bad idea to come in the first place. He’d be better off in his bed, or the one he’d be sharing with Adam while he was home.

* * * *

Standing by himself at the end of the bar, Courtland Choate watched the big, good-looking man throw a punch at another man and then buy him a drink. At first he thought the man was in the wrong tavern, walking by accident into a place where men preferred men, but listening to his apology, he thought perhaps the fellow was simply lonely or angry.

The evening that had started out boring suddenly got much more interesting. He got himself another glass of cider and a pint for the man and wandered over to his table, where he sat without invitation. Courtland pushed the pint glass toward him. “Want another?”

The man looked up. “I’m not in the mood for sex.”

“That was honest.” He laughed. “Enjoy the beer anyway. You might change your mind.”

“With that accent and those clothes, shouldn’t you be up on Pinckney Street?” the man said. “There’re places over there more suited to a boy like you.”