The Union (2 page)

For nearly a year before he died, Michael had begged McCullough to come out and help with the union difficulties. Then, in the last month or so before the accident, he’d stopped pleading. Keely assumed Michael had reconciled himself to McCullough's disinterest in their situation.

McCullough came from the Pennsylvania coal region and had held many prestigious offices in the mining union there. During the years Michael had worked back East, McCullough had taught Michael everything he knew. If Michael had trusted it him, so would she. Michael had never placed his faith foolishly. When McCullough came, he'd straighten out the owners, smooth over the troubles. Keely had no doubt that he'd shoulder her problems, take on her battle. The mines would be safe once McCullough was through.

McCullough.
His name quickened her pulse. He had proposed through the mail before Michael's death. But uncertain whether the admiration she felt for him could blossom into love, Keely had turned him down and they had remained friends. Once he had found out about Michael, McCullough immediately proposed again and made plans to come take care of her. She smiled. The second time she had accepted. A man who would drop everything, all his important work, and come to look out for her, what could be better? Lunn looked edgy.

A horse whinnied outside near the road.

"That someone you're expecting, Keely? Looks like a stranger hitching his horse outside." Lunn stared out the window.

"Most likely someone looking for a room." Though her heart skipped a beat, she forced herself to stave off anticipation. With so many strange men streaming into town lately she couldn't go getting her hopes up for McCullough every time another stranger hitched his horse to a post. She had dinner to get on.

"Looks like he's sure he's getting one. He's coming up the walk, carrying his saddlebags."

"We don't have any vacancies." She went to the window to get a look at the fellow. His height, the mustache—everything about him fit the description. "McCullough," she whispered softly. Suddenly, she peeled off her apron and ran for the door. "McCullough!"

Dietz wasn't halfway up the walk when a young, auburn-haired woman came tearing out the door and lunged into him, wrapping her arms around him and whispering McCullough's name rapturously into his chest.

McCullough?
Dietz stood frozen in the walk, stunned into silence. He patted the woman awkwardly on the back, like the stranger she was. "Keely?" How he formed the word he couldn't say.
 

The woman pulled herself away from his chest and dabbed at her eyes before looking up to meet his gaze. She was a petite thing. The top of her head didn't even reach his chin. Her eyes were pale green, the emotion shining in them as fragile as frost. He lost his tongue again, but she didn't seem to mind, almost expected it.

"Oh, McCullough." She laughed, maybe in embarrassment, maybe in joy. On any account it was a pretty sound. She hugged him again.
 

A man stepped out onto the porch and scowled at them. His glare brought Dietz back to reality. He'd just been handed a silver-plated opportunity. If McCullough's own fiancée mistook him for the man, he should be able to fool anyone. From Keely's letters he knew that no one in town had ever met McCullough in person, so who would dispute his identity? True, McCullough was dead, buried in Thompson's Falls. What if someone who'd been there came to town and squealed? The odds were small. McCullough had gotten himself shot within hours of arriving in town. Few knew him as anything other than an unidentified gunslinger, buried with a plain wooden cross marking his departure.

As McCullough, Dietz had an immediate in with the union. Who would suspect McCullough, union boss from back East, of spying? Time was short. Patterson had reported that things could blow anytime. Trying to infiltrate on his own might take more time than Dietz had. What hardship would it be, escorting a beautiful woman around for a few weeks? His McCabe cover was already tenuous. If this cover were blown, he'd land on his feet as he always did, or die trying.
 

He decided in an instant, assuming McCullough's identity and personality immediately. "Seeing you took away my tongue. Keely, my lass, you can't know how long I've waited for this moment to lay eyes on you myself. Mick warned me you were a beauty, but I didn't imagine your looks would match the passionate spirit of your letters."

She blushed and took his arm. "You have a silver tongue, McCullough. Michael warned me about that, too." She guided him up the boardwalk toward the house. "Come meet another of Michael's friends—Lunn Gaffney."

Even after McCullough was seated at her table drinking a cup of coffee, Keely couldn't force her gaze away from him. Nor could Lunn, who wore jealousy as conspicuously as a Sunday suit.

She liked everything about McCullough, from the timbre of his voice to the set of his shoulders and his dimpled smile. She could admit, now that she'd seen him, that she had worried that he might turn out to be mighty of intellect and spirit and weak in physical beauty. And she had tried to convince herself that that would be fine by her. But seeing him now, she realized she'd been fooling herself.

The man was modest. And Michael, too, deceptive and humble in his description of him. But McCullough was everything they described and more. She wanted to laugh, to burble over with joy.

His eyes were startlingly pale, almost the blue-violet of sunrise as color begins to seep into the sky. His hair nearly black. His height slightly taller than average. His build exceedingly fit and trim. And he looked younger than his thirty-eight years.

"When you're finished with your coffee, you'll be wanting to settle into your room. I'll be happy to show it to you."

"Room? You said there weren't any vacancies." Lunn looked unhappy. She wished he'd leave.

"Not for a stranger, Lunn. But of course I held a room for McCullough." She addressed McCullough. "Lunn saw you tying up your horse and thought you were a stranger coming for a room." The notion seemed preposterous now. This man, McCullough, a stranger! She wanted to laugh.
 

Lunn glared at her. She was aware her tone had accused him of being a simpleton, but she didn't feel like apologizing. He could take his bruised feelings and leave. There was no reason for him to stay around and torment himself.

"There will be a vacancy soon enough, Gaffney. Soon as me and the lass are married." McCullough's eyes shone with merriment.
 

Did he know he baited Lunn? Did he enjoy it? She didn't care. His words thrilled.

Lunn pushed his chair back from the table and rose to leave. "I've got to be getting to the union hall. Rumor is the mine owners are going to try and run another load of scabs past us." He glared at McCullough. "Too bad we aren't working. I might have been able to get you on my gang." Lunn's tone was condescending and not in the least sincere.

McCullough smiled easily. "Thank you for the thought, Gaffney, but I haven't worked a hole for years."

Lunn must have felt the insult. He wouldn't let things drop. "And what would you be planning on living off, Keely's wages?"

McCullough laughed full out. "I'm always paid for my services, Gaffney. Exceptionally well paid."

McCullough looked directly at her then and smiled intimately. How could he know how much she wanted Lunn to leave her alone, how uneasy he made her feel? It were as if McCullough had read her mind.

Chapter 2

Dietz dropped his bags on the bed and surveyed the room around him as Keely set a fresh pitcher of water on the washbasin. The bed was neatly made and covered with a plain spread. Unbleached curtains hung open at the window, stirred by a breeze. The room smelled of soap, fresh cleaning, and careful tending. Years back it would have seemed like heaven. Maybe it should have now, given some of the places he'd stayed. But he had seen better, certainly fancier.

"It's a fine room, Keely lass." He ran a finger over the whitewashed wall. "No coal dust. You can't beat that."

She laughed. "This isn't Pennsylvania. We have no coal here, just acres and acres of galena buried in the mountains."

For the first time, he noticed a miniature vase of wildflowers on the nightstand. Tiny, delicate-looking things colored in gentle pastel pinks and lavender.
 

"Ladyslippers," she said as if she'd read his mind.

"I've never seen anything like them before," he said.

"Oh, they're very rare. Only bloom in May. And they're shy things, hiding and growing in the shade and underbrush where bears like to live."

"Now that you mention it, they do look like slippers." He smiled at her. "You braved bears to get me flowers?"

She didn't look particularly embarrassed, but she didn't reply.

"You shouldn't have, Keely. I don't want any harm coming to my girl."

"I go in the day, when the bear aren't out." She beamed at him again.
 

She'd been watching him since he’d arrived, admiring him as if he were her hero. No woman had ever looked at him like that before, not even his mother. Damn, but the way she looked at him suddenly made him feel guilty for his spur of the moment deception.
 

"I'll get you fresh tomorrow," she said. "The blooms last only a day."

He stared at her, trying to assess the kind of woman she was. She picked new flowers every day, anticipating his arrival? No one had ever done that before, either. Come to think of it, no one had still, not for John Dietz.

"You made Lunn mad," she said.

He couldn't help laughing. "I don't take to men who are after my girl."

She shot him a flirtatious look. "Five minutes in the room with him and you determined that?"

"I don't hear you denying it."

"Treat Lunn right and he could be your ally. He knows everyone. With his help, you'd be able to settle in with the union bosses quickly."

He looked her over, liking what he saw, especially the eagerness and sympathy she wore like finery. "I know you're wanting to avenge Michael's death—"

"Not avenge, make sure it doesn't happen to someone else. Make sure some other family doesn't suffer like I have." Tears brimmed in her eyes. She wiped them away with an impatient gesture.

He was McCullough now. He stepped close and pulled her into his embrace. She smelled like flowers, and soap, and supper, everything fine and womanly. She clung to him, her head pressed against his chest. She felt nice, soft and round. Too nice.

He stood nearly a foot taller than her, his chin resting squarely on top of waves of auburn hair. Damn if she didn't fit all too well in his arms. Her manner, the feel of her, the way she looked at him all played against his conscience. Guilt again.
 

Damn, weak fool. Shake it off, Dietz.

"It's all right, Keely. We'll be taking care of things, but in our own time. You know what they say about fools rushing in?"

She pulled away, wiping at her tears with her apron. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Were you warning me about Gaffney?" he asked.

"No, I—"

He winked at her. "Never mind, lass. Believe me, I've dealt with worse. I can handle Mr. Gaffney, at least as far as the union's concerned."
 

Outside the clouds parted to let a shaft of sunlight out. It cut in through the window, bathing the room with brilliance.
 

He turned his gaze to Keely. "I've never needed the likes of men like him. I can settle in on my own. Besides, Michael prepared the way for me sure enough."
 

At his mention of her brother, Keely's eyes misted over.
 

Dietz allowed his own eyes to cloud. "Ah, Michael." He spoke solemnly. He'd learned long ago to laugh on cue, cry on cue, whatever the hell it took. Once in character, he felt that character's pain and emotion without thinking.
 

He continued the act, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other before removing his gaze from her and returning it to the stream of light coming in. Since childhood when he'd been forced to live in cellars or barns, any dark, out of the way place, he’d loved light like freedom. He might like this room after all.

"Let me give you a lesson. An ally must be someone you trust with your life. A man with eyes for your woman doesn't qualify."

Keely smiled and shook her head. "McCullough, you are your own man."

He didn't refute it. He was whoever he needed to be. "Isn't that best, lass?" He turned from the window and smiled full at her. "Look at the light pouring in. I've always preferred to room on the south side."

"You won't when the days heat up." She paused. "My room is on the north side, cool, and much larger. When we're married, you'll move in with me." Her smile was not timid.
 

Who is this woman?

"And give up the light? Not on your life. You'll move in with me." Of course that would never happen. He'd delay the ceremony until he'd finished his job, and then move on like he always did. But as he stood there watching her, regret shaded the bright room, sprung from the knowledge that when this thing ended Miss Keely Byrne would most likely be as jaded about life and love as he was.