A Promise for Tomorrow (23 page)
Thus it was no real surprise when Red flew into an instant rage at the landlord, who was Red’s elder by at least two-score years and no match for the brawny younger man. Red had pummeled the man, all the while demanding he reconsider his position. As his blood spilled out, the landlord firmly held his ground, promising he’d see Red sent to prison for his actions. But within moments the landlord’s threats were silenced forever. Red had killed him, and as surely as the sun would rise in the morning, the law would hunt him down and see justice served.
Kiernan shuddered and looked up once again to the hillside and then the stars. America was a good land, a rich and bountiful land, and while he was glad to be a part of it, Kiernan longed for the arguments and fighting to be put behind them. Red said it was important to keep lesser men in their places, but Kiernan thought it was more because of his brother’s hunger for control. Red led the Connaughtmen with a severity that sometimes frightened his younger brother. He spoke in hushed tones among tight circles of men about the need to unite in their causes. Connaughtmen should stand with their kind and see to it that no one broke the circle. Their enemy was any man who wasn’t a Connaughtman, and there were plenty of those. Ulstermen from the northern reaches of Ireland, Corkmen from the south, even Longfords from the same Irish midlands as the Connaughts—all were to be considered enemies, right along with the Americans themselves.
Kiernan thought of the Baldwin family. He liked their open friendliness and the kindness they’d extended him and his brother after they’d helped to unpack their wagons. He especially liked the young daughter Victoria. She looked at him as though he might be someone important, and that made him feel like someone important. He knew she was only a child—her mother made that more than clear—but still he found himself drawn to her dark doe eyes and brown-black hair. She was unlike anyone he’d ever known, and in spite of the fact that she was young, Kiernan knew that time would remedy that problem. What might not be so easily remedied was the differences in their cultures and backgrounds. Kiernan was a poor Irishman with little hope for his future and a fierce loyalty to a family left behind in Ireland. Victoria Baldwin was obviously well on her way to becoming an elegant young woman. She was the very type of girl he would have been forbidden to associate with in Ireland.
And despite their kindness, Kiernan had no doubt James and Carolina Baldwin would hold the same prejudice against him where their precious daughter was concerned. He was nothing but a poor railroad Mick, and there was little hope for a decent future in that. Sighing again, Kiernan hadn’t heard Red sneak up on him. It wasn’t until his brother gave him a playful fist to the arm that Kiernan realized he’d passed a great deal of time in daydreaming.
“And what are ya doin’ out here lookin’ all calf-eyed?” Red asked him, stomping mud from his boots. “I suppose ya might be a-pinin’ for that little lassie down the way. A bit young, don’t ya think?” he asked and pulled out a pipe and pouch of tobacco.
“She’ll grow,” Kiernan answered carelessly.
“Ah, and so it was the lassie,” Red said with a devilish laugh. “Ya might as well try to catch a fairy in the woods. Or had ya forgotten where ya’d be a-comin’ from?”
“I know full well where I’m comin’ from,” Kiernan replied in complete irritation. “Seems yar all-fired stirrin’ of conflicts and troubles won’t let me forget.”
Red took a stool beside his brother and began packing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. “And well ya shouldn’t be forgettin’. This might well be America, but we’re just Micks to break the rock and do their dirty work. No gentleman is goin’ to let the likes of ya touch his daughter, and of that ya can be sure.”
Kiernan eyed him suspiciously and sought to change the subject. “So what troubles have ya been stirrin’ tonight?”
Red chuckled. “Troubles a-plenty for the supervisors and railroad men. It won’t be long now until we strike and put them all in their places.”
“Why a strike?” asked Kiernan. “Why is it always a strike? We scarce get settled into a job than ya have the men to arms over money.”
“It’s just smart business, me brother. They can afford it, and we can use it. It’s just that simple.”
“I still think it would be smarter to work hard and earn a decent name for ourselves.”
“Nobody cares if a Mick works his fingers to the bone. They’d still flip him half the wages they pay anyone else and kick him when he bent over to pick it up.”
“So ya plan to strike? When?”
“Now, mebbe we’ll be a-strikin’ and mebbe we won’t. There’s other business at hand.”
Kiernan watched him lean over to light his pipe from the lantern. He appeared so casual and nonchalant, yet his words spoke of real trouble and hardships to come. Kiernan couldn’t refrain from asking, “What other business?”
Red straightened, sucked hard on the pipe, and blew out a puff of blue smoke. “Well, ya might say there needs to be a bit o’ housecleaning.”
Kiernan tensed. “Ya mean get rid of the Corkmen and Fardowns, don’t ya?”
“Well, now yar startin’ to think like a true Connaughtman.”
“I didn’t say I approved.”
“Well, ya should,” Red said, glaring at Kiernan as though he’d dared to speak out against a sacred trust. “They come in here and put up their shacks and rival us for jobs. They know better, yet they still come.”
“But I suppose ya will be seein’ to their ignorance and helpin’ them along their way,” Kiernan stated in disgust. “Why can’t we just settle down and put our minds to earnin’ enough money to bring our kin to America?”
“In time, lad. In time. First we make America a decent place for them to come to.”
“And we do that by killin’ our own kind?”
“Corkmen and Fardowns are hardly our kind.”
“They be Irish, just the same as us,” Kiernan protested.
“But they ain’t men of Connaught.” Red seemed to find Kiernan’s disgust amusing. “Never fear, lil’ brother o’ mine. I’ll not be expectin’ ya to soil yar hands. Leave the work to the menfolk.”
“I’m a man, only ya treat me like a child.”
“Then stop speakin’ like one.” Red took another couple of draws on the pipe before tapping out the bowl against the leg of his stool. He stood, ground the burning embers of the tobacco into the dirt, and yawned. “Mornin’ will come mighty early. I’m thinkin’ it’d be best to leave this conversation for another time.”
Kiernan nodded and allowed Red his routine of securing the tent flaps while Kiernan climbed onto his cot. There was a definite chill to the air that made him grateful for the thick wool blankets Red had insisted they buy before coming to Greigsville. Red promised they’d soon have a shanty of their own, and the idea of walls and a stove in the place of a cook fire and tent gave Kiernan pleasant fuel for his dreams.
But on this night another fuel was supplied. As soon as he closed his eyes, Kiernan envisioned Victoria Baldwin. She was young, he reminded himself. But just as easily he reminded himself that his own mother had scarcely been ten and four when she’d married his da. Victoria had told him she was nearly thirteen, and while he knew womenfolk in America did things different from Ireland, he’d seen plenty of them married young with babes of their own.
He smiled to himself, just as Red turned down the lantern. She was young, but she would grow, and while she did, Kiernan would make sure he stayed in her company.
The first heavy November snows buried Greigsville in white before Carolina felt the Baldwin house had become an acceptable place to live. Through the assistance of their Irish friends they had managed not only to patch the holes and resecure the frame of the house, but also to add two coats of whitewash to the outside and paper the walls of the inside. Miriam had taken Carolina’s beautiful Persian rug and added strips of canvas from the tenting material, all in order to make it large enough to meet the corners of the front room. The remaining piece of tarp was large enough to cover over the kitchen floor, and once the stove arrived and cabinets were built, the room didn’t look half so bad.
Even Victoria had taken on a new attitude about their dingy little house. She arranged and rearranged her dolls and books until she found just the right balance. James, feeling bad because they’d been unable to bring her writing desk, hired Kiernan to build his daughter a simple table and chair. Kiernan had surprised them by turning out a much more complicated piece of furniture in the form of a small table with drawers down one side instead of regular spindle legs. Victoria had fussed over the piece as though she’d been given some of the Crown jewels. She immediately set to work to make a little pillow cushion for the seat, announcing that it would be just the thing to make the set complete.
After discovering Kiernan’s ability to craft furniture, James quickly put in an order for other pieces. They’d been so limited in what they could ship before winter that he thought it would be most appropriate to have Kiernan put together some of the bits and pieces that would turn their house into a home. Two clothing chests were added to those they’d brought with them, as well as a bookshelf and a very simple whatnot cabinet or “étagère,” as Victoria insisted they call it. Little by little the house took on a very personal feel, and with it, everyone’s attitude and dismal outlook changed.
“In the spring,” James promised, “we’ll get a whole wagon train of things brought out.”
“We ought to help set up a store,” Carolina said thoughtfully. “This town is sure to grow, what with the tunnel and railroad. Perhaps we could invest in building a dry goods store—even have Kiernan produce furniture for the store.”
“He’s going to have his hands full with the railroad. As it is, he put together those pieces for us on his Sundays off.”
“I know,” Carolina replied, “but it might be something he’d like a chance at. Maybe it would allow him the extra money he and Red need for bringing their family to America.”
“It’s possible.” James seemed to consider her suggestion for several moments. “A store wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The investment could only be profitable given the fact that the alternative is to travel to Fairmont or Cumberland. Yes, I see your point.”
Carolina smiled and went to where James sat by the fireplace. “In spite of the hardships, I’m glad to be here with you.”
He looked up at her and extended his hand. Then without warning, he caught her hand and pulled her down on his lap. Carolina giggled like a schoolgirl and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m glad you’re here, too. I would be very lonely without you and the kids.”
As if on cue, Brenton came padding down the stairs. “Papa! Come see! The sky is orange.”
James shook his head and sighed, while Carolina slipped off her husband’s lap and went to her child. “What do you mean, the sky is orange?”
“I looked out the window. Come see.”
Carolina let him lead her to the front window, but the frost prevented her from seeing much except a hint of muted light. “There does appear to be something going on,” she told James.
He got up and went to the front door. “I’ll see to it. You stay here.” Just then an explosion sounded from a distance. The ground shook around them, leaving Carolina and James to stare at each other in dumbfounded silence while Brenton danced around chanting, “Fourth of July! Firecrackers!”
“Hardly,” James said, his expression instantly given over to grim concern. “It’s the Irish.” His voice was resigned to the fact. “I’d heard rumors that there was to be a purging of the workers.”
Carolina was instantly at his side. “What do you mean, a purging?”
“Apparently it isn’t enough that they’re all Irish. Red explained to me that they are separated in a rather clannish order. Regional people associate only with others from their region. Kiernan told me the problem has actually become worse here in America. Probably because they are vying for the same jobs.” Fires rose up to illuminate the night skies. “I’d better go down there and see if I can do anything to help the sheriff.”
“No!” Carolina exclaimed. “Don’t do that. It isn’t your fight.”
James turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Keeping the peace here is everyone’s fight. If we don’t find a way to quell this, we will only have to face it over and over again. You stay here with the children.”
By this time, Miriam had been awakened by the blast. She came into the front room, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill. “Miz Carolina?” James took that moment to go for his coat and hat.
“The Irish are fighting, or so it would seem,” Carolina answered by way of explanation. “James is just now going to see what can be done.”
“I want to go, too!” Brenton declared.
“No, suh, young master,” Miriam said sternly. “You is goin’ to bed.”
Carolina nodded. “You go along with Miriam and be a good boy.”
Miriam took him upstairs, much to Carolina’s relief. She didn’t wish for her children to see the fear in her eyes.
“I’ll be back soon. Sit tight,” James told her and kissed her lightly on the forehead before rushing out into the night.
Carolina stood at the open door for several minutes. She could hear the raised voices of the men in the distance. Angry voices. Murderous voices. She shuddered. “Oh, God, keep James safe,” she whispered the prayer, feeling very inadequate.
Miriam returned, and upon her suggestion, they began to roll bandages out of a couple of old sheets in order to help with the wounded. Carolina found herself passing the time after the bandages were done by sitting in silence beside the hearth. If only someone would tell them what was happening. If only morning would come and put an end to the frightening shadows that danced out across the firelit skies.
“What has happened?” a sleepy-eyed Victoria asked. She descended the stairs with a blanket wrapped securely around her white flannel nightgown.
“The Irish are having some sort of fight,” Carolina explained to her daughter. “Your father has gone to check it out.”
Victoria’s eyes widened and it seemed she came instantly awake. “Papa’s gone into the fighting?” She hurried to the window, but finding it impossible to see into the night, she threw open the front door.
