Wishes on the Wind (50 page)

    And through it all, Meg realized that the turmoil in her life again revolved around the arrival of David Lang.

    Briefly closing her eyes, Meg heard the name reverberate in her mind.
David Lang. David
… She had not even seen him, and her life had already begun coming apart again.

    Word had spread quickly through town that the colliery would be run by true Lang again, and that although injured in the train wreck, David would be on the job in a few days. Sean had not taken the news lightly and Terry

    The ache inside Meg deepened. True to his word, Terry had not pressed her about David, but she knew rumors had been rife at the time of David's departure five years earlier, and that David's return had stirred speculation that would reach her husband's ears. She knew she had done little to ease the situation, but the truth was that although Terry had shown little change in his loving consideration of her, his warmth left her cold. His resentment of that coldness went unspoken, but she could not help but feel that the arms clutching her close each night had begun to reflect stubborn possession more than love.

    The intense rays of the sun soothed the chill of Meg's torment as she climbed the hillside, gradually becoming aware of the sweet scent of new growth that permeated the air, the freshness of the warm breeze, the sense of freedom that had originally drawn her to this hill when similarly disturbed as a child.

    A few steps more and Meg found herself in a familiar leafy bower overlooking the valley, and she breathed deeply. Honeysuckle. Her eyes misted as she remembered the young girl who had fearfully scrambled out of sight to hide within those fragrant branches. Dropping to her knees, she saw that over the years the violet bed had made inroads into the carpet of moss beneath the trees; but there was little other visible change. It was still lovely and peaceful, and Meg found herself wishing, as she had once before, that the whole world could be as beautiful as this spot. That the serenity of this place could

    Suddenly freezing into stillness, Meghan attempted to identify an unexpected sound nearby. Footsteps approaching on the trail!

    A familiar sense of panic ensuing, Meg stood up, holding her breath as the sound drew closer. Darting a glance at the honeysuckle bush to her rear as the footsteps neared, Meg briefly closed her eyes. Memories overwhelmed her. She had been a child those years ago, and frightened beyond belief that she would be found trespassing. She was frightened again, this time for a reason she could not define.

    Stepping unexpectedly into sight, as if materializing out of memory, David Lang suddenly stood before her. Unable to speak, Meghan returned his stare, noting with silent distress that David limped as he took a few steps toward her, and that fresh bruises marked his forehead and cheek. Hard muscle and sinew had replaced the thinness of youth, and strength and character was now etched into the lines of his handsome face, but he had otherwise changed very little from the day she had first met him in this secluded spot. Even the frigidity of his gaze was the same, and the coldness froze her heart.

    "So it
was
you that I saw on the hill above the wreck." David broke the silence between them with a harsh statement that was unexpected, sending her an unconscious step backwards as he continued accusingly. "When my mind cleared, I tried to convince myself that I had imagined seeing you running down the hill after the train wreck, because there was no explanation for your being there other than the most obvious one that you were on that hill waiting for the explosion. Damn you! You were a part of it, weren't you!"

    "No, I wasn't!"

    "I saw you! You ran toward me, and then you disappeared. You wouldn't have left if you didn't have something to hide."

    "I… I saw the wreck and wanted to help. Then I thought someone might think it was suspicious that I was there, so I ran away."

    His gaze reflecting disbelief, David laughed harshly. "You never did lie very well, Meg."

    Suddenly closing the distance between them, David grasped her arms and shook her hard. The years slipped away at his touch, blending old pain with new as David's rage abruptly fled. His expression softened with his agonized question, "What have you turned into, Meg? Are you one of
them
now?"

    David's fingers burned into her skin, and Meg could feel herself paling as she whispered, "You never wanted to believe it, but I was always one of
them
from the valley, David."

    "And you never wanted to admit that you were different than most of the rabble below."

    Meg was assailed by a familiar pain. "The difference you saw was in your mind."

    "Was it?" David's face stiffened and his hands dropped from her arms. "Then why do I see regret in your face? Why did you wince when you saw me limp, and why do you look at the bruises on my face as if they pain you?" David's voice dropped a notch lower. "And why do I see tears in your eyes, Meg?"

    "Oh, David."

    Bridging the years between them with one step forward, Meg slipped her arms around David's waist, a low sob escaping her throat as she lay her head against his chest. David's arms closed around her and his warmth spread to expand within her as he whispered against her hair. "I wondered if it would still feel the same when I held you in my arms." He paused. "I missed you, Meg."

    Stiffening, Meg drew back from his embrace. Her withdrawal was more than physical as she wiped the tears from her face.

    "I'm sorry, David. I was so relieved to see that you're all right. I didn't know you were on the train that day. I… I saw the explosion and ran toward the train without thinking. Then I saw others coming to help and decided it would be best if I didn't get involved. But if I had known you were lying there injured I wouldn't have left."

    David's gaze searched her face. Suffering under his scrutiny, Meg attempted a smile. "But that's all in the past now, isn't it? You're here now and you're mending well. And I'm glad to see you, David."

    "Are you, Meg?" Agitated flecks of gold stirred to life in David's pensive gaze. Grasping her hand, he clutched it tightly as she sought to withdraw it. "Then come home with me now. You can have dinner with me. We have so much to talk about years to span."

    Meghan forced a smile. "Thank you, David, but I can't. I have to go home. It's almost dinnertime and Aunt Fiona will be expecting me."

    "I'll send someone to tell your aunt you have other plans. Your uncle will be glad to have one less at his table."

    Forcing herself to hold his gaze without flinching, Meg responded. "It's not my aunt who'll miss my presence there. My husband"

    "Husband!"

    Closing her mind to David's shocked dismay, Meg maintained     her smile by sheer strength of will. "Aye, Terry Donovan. He's new to the valley here just two years. He's a fine man."

    Her hand slid from David's grasp, and Meg swallowed tightly. Gathering her courage, she asked, "Have you brought a wife with you to the manor, David? The old place could use a bit of life."

    His eyes growing ominously cold, David shook his head. His delayed response was filled with the anger and pain of long, absent years.

    "You never forgave me for being a Lang, did you, Meg? No, I haven't brought a wife back with me, because the sad truth is that I was never able to love any woman but you."

    Motionless as David turned abruptly and left her, Meg listened to the echo of his retreating footsteps. With a sinking heart she realized that the sound of his step on the path had brought David into her life, and that same sound now signaled their final separation.

    Crow's feet marked the outer corners of Jack Kehoe's piercing blue eyes, and there was an occasional gray strand amidst his full head of dark hair, beard, and mustache. He was a big man, athletic and erect, and Sean realized the "King of the Mollies" had changed very little since the day he had first seen him years ago.

    Seated around the table in Kehoe's living quarters upstairs from his Girardsville saloon, a full glass provided for all, Sean saw present were Danny Canning, Tom Donohue, Tim Clark, Dan Dougherty, Michael O'Brien, and numerous other division body masters and officials with whom he was not well acquainted. At times like this the memory of Lenny Dunne returned full force, and his friend's death two years earlier in a mine accident stung as deeply as if it were yesterday. Terry had arrived in Shenandoah a short time later to fill the void of Lenny's loss, but Sean had not forgotten Lenny. Neither had he avenged his friend's death to his satisfaction but he knew he would.

    Kehoe surveyed the men around him and Sean noted unconsciously that Jack Kehoe was not as tall a man as he had first believed. But although the "King" was dwarfed by Terry's massive size, Sean knew the power of the man had nothing to do with physical proportions. For as he talked, there was death in Kehoe's eyes.

    First on the agenda was Bully Boy Thomas.

    Kehoe's level tone belied the import of his words as he began. "I'm troubled over the bad state of affairs in Mahanoy City. I was
 
there a couple of days ago and the Modocs are raisin' mischief."

    Aware of Kehoe's hatred of the Welsh group that was so active against their own, Sean felt his apprehension growing as Kehoe continued. "At first I thought I'd call a county meetin', give the boys pistols, and challenge the Modocs to a fight. We'd shoot them down in daytime. Then we'd find out who was boss. But on second thought I didn't like that idea."

    Jack Kehoe paused again, and Sean knew he was just blowing off steam because he was too smart to show his hand so openly. Everyone knew that Kehoe hated Bully Boy. The big Modoc's personal vendetta to avenge a Molly assassination Brother Dougherty had accomplished held Dougherty's life in jeopardy. Going unspoken was the knowledge that there was a need to keep the Molly organization strong by permanently settling the matter to the Mollies' satisfaction, for anything less would be to show a position of weakness that they could not afford.

    A gleam in his eye, Kehoe continued. "I've decided to open the matter to the floor."

    A vigorous exchange followed, but Sean kept his silence, satisfied to have Terry speak for their group. A short glance toward Jim McKenna revealed his reaction was the same.

    "Shoot the bastard in broad daylight, right on Center Street in Mahanoy Cityin front of everybody!"

    A derisive snort from O'Brien tabled O'Leary's suggestion as he made one of his own. "There's only one way to do this right. A pair of shooters lyin' in wait for him on the side of the railroad tracks near Bully Boy's home in Shoemaker's Patch, just east of town."

    "Aye, that's right. We'll get him fine, then!"

    The round of approval that followed saw the suggestion accepted, but Kehoe's expression remained grave as he spoke again.

    "There's somethin' else to be made clear here today. The strike's lost." Protests sounded around the table but Kehoe shook his head. "It's plain to see that the men have had enough. They'll last no more than a month more, and then go crawlin' back on their empty bellies, and so we've a chance to make the bastard Modoc's death mean more than it's truly worth. Timing is the thing, me boyos. I want to see Bully Boy hit the dust no more than two weeks after the men have settled back into the shafts. Molly's sons will be renewed then, and we can go from there with full strength."

    Waiting only until the silent nods demonstrated general agreement, Kehoe added, ''And there's the matter of a rumored informer in the ranks." The threat in his gaze deepening at the mumbles of concern, Kehoe continued. "But the bastard'll not be there long, for we'll find him out like we did every other. And we'll take care of him. Of that ye can be sure."

    Straightening his shoulders as the men began showing signs of restlessness, Kehoe continued in a lower tone. "We've one last item of business to conclude." Kehoe looked slowly around the table, halting abruptly on the three from Shenandoah. Sean felt the heat of those small blue eyes burn him as Kehoe stated flatly, "Bully Boy belongs to yer group, me boyos. Get it done, and make a clean job of it."

    The momentary silence that followed was broken by Terry's nod and the sound of scraping chairs as the men prepared to slip out of the room as secretly as they had come.

    Meeting Terry's gaze, Sean saw silent determination there, and he knew in that instant that the job was as good as done.

Chapter 22

    The month of June arrived with a formidable taste of the summer to come, and the people of the valley suffered the early heat wave with little respite. Stripped to the shirtwaist although it was early morning, David looked out the colliery office window. The physical marks of his injuries had faded in the few weeks since the train wreck, but David was keenly aware that in his mind he had not progressed a step beyond that short, unexpected meeting on the hillside shortly afterward.

    With disgust, David recalled the excuses that his mind had invented for his decision to accept Gowen's offer to return to Shenandoah. Unfinished business his need to come to terms with his past in order to face his future. Rot! Now master of Lang Manor, standing at the same window through which he had viewed the colliery countless times with his uncle, he could no longer deny that his true reason for returning was Meg.