MB01 - Unending Devotion (34 page)

“Looks like we’ve got a thief in the midst of us,” Connell said, searching the faces of the other bosses.

The anger slanting across their features reflected the frustration that had made a home inside him. They grumbled and began speculating who was to blame.

Connell gave a weary sigh. At least now he knew why his numbers hadn’t been adding up. The foremen at each of his camps had been giving him the correct totals of logs leaving their camps. But somewhere between leaving the camps and arriving in Harrison, someone had been tampering with the logs, sawing off company marks, and likely remarking the logs with their own stamp.

It appeared that the thieves hadn’t just been targeting McCormick, but had been sawing the marked ends from a variety of the camps. The strategy made sense. Taking a little bit from each of the camps would make the theft harder to discover.

The unbalanced ledgers had caused him plenty of headaches. But they were the least of his concerns now.

In the week since he’d returned to Harrison, he’d had forty shanty boys demand their paychecks and defect to other area camps or mills.

A few had come back when they’d learned of the extra bonus he was offering. But those who remained were getting threats from Carr’s men whenever they went into town, and he had the feeling it wouldn’t be long before more of them left.

He’d decided Carr didn’t deserve the payoff money Dad had given him. If anything, Carr ought to be the one paying him for all the losses he was causing McCormick Lumber.

“What do you want me to do with the slabs, Boss?” Charlie finally asked.

Connell didn’t know if he had the energy to think of a plan to catch the thieves. He’d obviously have to hire some men to guard the loads coming out of his camps on the narrow-gauge trains. But at the moment, he didn’t know if he even cared.

All week he’d slept poorly, waiting for Carr’s men to strike again when he least expected. So far they’d stayed away. But he knew his days were numbered. It was just a matter of time before they caught him unaware and alone.

And with the way he was stirring up the hornet’s nest lately with Stuart’s help, he knew a fight was coming. It wasn’t a matter of
if.
It was a matter of
when.

Under the guise of Lily’s Red Ribbon Society, they’d held their first meeting two days ago. Even though the turnout had been small—only nine men and one woman, Vera—he’d begun to see that more people were tired of Carr and his lawlessness than he’d expected.

At the racing clomp of horse hooves and the shout of his name, Connell straightened his sagging shoulders and wiped a hand across his eyes, fighting off the weariness.

Stuart came charging toward him, one arm in a sling and the other gripping reins. His face was still a patchwork of yellowish-green and purple bruises and cuts.

Connell stepped away from the group of men now arguing about who was to blame for the thieving. “Thought you were working on our project in Merryville today,” he said as Stuart reined next to him.

“I was.” Stuart’s face was grim.

Although the thought of riding up to Merryville in the black of night and breaking into the Devil’s Ranch was one of the last things he wanted to do, he figured if Lily could rescue Daisy, he and Stuart could get Frankie.

It was past time.

Besides, since he’d already made an enemy of Carr, what difference did it make if he stirred up more strife?

Stuart had decided to ride up to Merryville for the day to get word to her that they would come after her in two nights.

Connell pulled his watch from his coat pocket. It read two-thirty. “You’re back early.”

Stuart slipped from his horse, wincing as his feet touched the ground. “We won’t need to rescue the girl,” he said softly so that none of the men could hear their conversation. His eyes brimmed with a sadness that set Connell on edge.

“What happened?”

“From what I could gather from various witnesses, Carr beat her up about a week ago. With his brass knuckles. Because she refused to get out on the dance floor and strip for the men.”

Connell shook his head. He’d heard the tales of the pails Carr put out on the dance floor. The men tossed coins into the tin containers to entice the girls to perform. As the pails began to fill, the girls would expose more flesh and the dances would turn more lurid.

He couldn’t imagine a sweet young girl like Frankie dancing in front of a roomful of drunken shanty boys. Why had Carr demanded it of
her
of all his girls? He could have made one of his other women do it—one of the women there by choice.

Stuart’s brow furrowed into deep lines. “Dr. Scott said he examined her and tried to help her. But she was so severely beaten and covered with bruises that she would’ve had a hard time surviving. If she’d had a will to live, which apparently she didn’t.”

The news hit Connell’s gut as painfully as if a log had come loose from the top of a banked pile and crushed his middle. “Then she’s dead?”

“She died yesterday.”

Sick guilt added to the weight that pressed against Connell’s gut. They’d waited too long.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The accusing shouts of the men behind them punctuated the air. The discovery of the sawed-off log ends would only add dissension during a time when they all needed to unite against Carr.

“And what’s worse,” Stuart said, as if things could get any worse, “is that nobody is doing anything about her death. Nobody cares. In their minds, she’s just another worthless prostitute.”

Connell knew what the majority of townspeople thought—it was the same thing he’d always told himself: What was one more dead prostitute in a community where fighting and beatings and death were a daily occurrence? Why bother trying to change anything when the problems looked insurmountable?

God was obviously whacking him across the head in His efforts to show him how apathetic and uncaring and fearful he’d been.
I get it now, God.
He lifted his eyes heavenward.
You can stop the lesson anytime.

If only they could get a little help . . .

They wouldn’t get any sympathy from the Clare County sheriff, not when the man operated off Carr’s payroll, like most of the county.

“What about the Midland County sheriff?” Connell asked, trying to renew his quickly fading desire to fight. “What if we were to ask him for help?”

“He can’t do anything. This isn’t his jurisdiction,” Stuart said. “What we need to do is to elect a new sheriff and a new county prosecutor who will support reform.”

“I agree. We’ve got to have men who aren’t being paid off by Carr to do his bidding.” But county elections were largely a sham, especially when no one dared to run or vote against Carr’s approved men.

Even as Connell spoke, Stuart’s face reflected the hopelessness wedged in Connell’s heart. “The only thing I can do is finish fixing up my jobber, write up this story, print it, and get it out to as many people as possible.”

They’d spent the last few evenings trying to clean up the newspaper office and salvage what they could. They were fortunate that amidst the destruction, the printing press hadn’t been damaged too badly.

“At least you have enough witnesses that Carr can’t accuse you of libel.”

“I’m sure he’ll try, but what harm will it do me now?” He grinned, but Connell could see past the false bravado to the fear flitting in Stuart’s eyes.

“He could break a lot more than your arm this time.”

“I can’t back down now—not when I’ve been looking for a way to frame him for his crimes. I thought I could nail him on the jail fire. But murder is even better.”

They would do all they could. But would it ever be enough?

Stuart rubbed his broken arm, as if thinking the same thing. Then he sighed. “I’d hate to be the one to tell Lily the news about Frankie.”

A fresh wave of weariness washed over Connell. “I’d hate to be the one too.” But he had a feeling he would have to break the news to her eventually.

She was going to be devastated.

And would likely despise him all the more.

Lily didn’t want to leave Daisy alone for any length of time while she went looking for a job. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her sister, she told herself. It was that she didn’t trust Tierney.

Even though he’d stayed away the rest of the week—or at least she thought he had—she had the feeling it was only a matter of time before he came back and tried to ensnare Daisy again.

Lily wanted to make sure they were long gone before that happened.

With a pattering heart, she stopped on the second-floor landing and listened, every nerve in her body alert for the sound of the two of them together.

For a second she imagined she heard Daisy’s soft laugh of pleasure, and the unbidden picture of her sister’s passion filled her mind.

Lily couldn’t keep from thinking about the pleasure she’d found in the brief moments of closeness with Connell. Warmth spread through her stomach.

She shoved it aside, the shards of embarrassment and guilt slicing through her.

Who was she to condemn Daisy for taking pleasure in Tierney’s touch when she’d relished each instance with Connell and longed for more?

She didn’t want to admit she was a hypocrite. After all, she hadn’t allowed Connell to ravish her so intimately. They’d kept their distance even though the attraction had been strong between them. She liked to think she would have stopped him if he’d wanted more from her when they’d been stranded alone during the snowstorm.

But the truth was, her curiosity and longing always made her lose reason when she was with him. His strong commitment to purity had kept them both from indulging in intimacies they would have later regretted.

Through the dumbwaiter in the wall of the hallway, she could hear Mrs. McCormick speaking to the maid in the kitchen on the ground floor. Other than the rapid thump of her own heartbeat, she couldn’t hear anything else. The house was silent.

She bounded up the steps the rest of the way to the third floor. All the way she tried to tell herself she was different from Daisy, that she was strong and pure and virtuous. But with each step, she couldn’t keep from thinking the line that separated her from Daisy was much thinner than she cared to acknowledge.

At the doorway to their room she paused. Hopefully, they’d have their own place soon, away from the McCormicks. They could both start fresh. Tierney wouldn’t be a temptation for Daisy, and Connell wouldn’t be one for her. She’d never see him again.

With a long sigh, she tried to breathe out the disappointment that came whenever she thought of Connell and how much she missed him.

“Daisy?” she said softly, opening the door. “What if we moved to Saginaw?”

Lily stepped over the girl’s untouched lunch tray, still on the floor where the maid had left it.

“I’m not having any luck finding work here. And I heard someone say there are more factories in Saginaw.”

She wouldn’t tell Daisy what else she’d heard—that there weren’t many jobs available for single women. In fact, everywhere she’d gone, she’d been told the saloons were hiring pretty waiter girls. She’d have no problem locating work down on Water Street.

But she knew most of the time “waiter girl” was just another term for prostitute. And she knew as well as any other decent citizen that Water Street was “Hell’s Half Mile.” She’d heard the rumors of the catacombs, a winding labyrinth of rooms and tunnels that existed in the bowels underneath the saloons and hotels. Just the reference to the crimes and illicit activities that took place within the dark, damp hallways was enough to make Lily’s skin crawl.

She couldn’t—absolutely wouldn’t—take Daisy into such an environment, not even if they became desperate.

“What do you think?” she asked, dodging the piles of discarded clothes on the floor and making her way to the window. “We could start fresh in Saginaw, where no one will know us or anything about the past year.”

She yanked open the curtains, letting daylight into the room. She hadn’t given up hope—she
wouldn’t
give up hope—that everything would work out for her and Daisy.

“Come on. Time to get up, sleepyhead.” She turned toward the bed, and even before the words were completely out, fear pricked the back of her neck.

The bed was empty. The quilt and sheets were unmade and in disarray—which wasn’t unusual, at least until the maid came in to tidy the room. What
was
unusual was that Daisy had gotten out of the bed, something she hadn’t done except to meet with Tierney that day in the library.

“Daisy?” Lily’s gaze swept around the room, and dread pooled in her stomach.

Tierney. She was with Tierney again.

“No!”

Where had that lying, cheating, no-good grayback taken her this time? To a secluded part of the house where Lily wouldn’t be able to find them?

“You won’t be able to hide from me.” She walked to the bed, her footsteps choppy and her mind formulating the hot lecture she would sling at Tierney once she found him. With a jerk, she tugged the knit blanket loose from the tangle of sheets, praying she could catch them before Daisy bared herself to Tierney again.