Hope Springs (6 page)

But Ian’s voice sounded in her memory: “Distract me from the pain.” And with it came her tiny sister’s voice from nearly two decades earlier: “I’m cold, Katie.”

She’d not been able to do a thing for little Eimear. Not a single thing. She’d simply lay beside her in the bitter cold as the girl slowly froze to death that terrible night.

Was five dollars really so enormous a price to pay to help Ian and Biddy?

Katie pulled her old, trusted biscuit tin from under the bedtick. She pried the tight-fitting lid off and dumped the contents on the faded quilt spread over her new bed. She could spare five dollars. She could. Ian needed the powders desperately, and Biddy would fall clear to pieces if Ian didn’t recover. Biddy was like family to her.

Though she couldn’t read, Katie had been taught upon arriving in America how to recognize the different paper moneys by the faces on each. Most of her bills were American, and nearly all worth only one dollar. She had a great many coins, but America had in recent years become enamored of paper dollars, and she’d been paid that way of late.

She counted out five of the bills worth one dollar each. Spending the money she’d painstakingly saved caused her a touch of panic. Growing up in poverty had left her that way, always a little afraid of deprivations yet to come.

Katie slipped the bills into the pocket of her dress. She snapped the lid back on her tin and stuffed it in its cozy hiding spot once more.

She would have the powders for Ian. She would not fail him the way she had her sister.

Chapter Six

Katie had done her best to avoid Johnson’s Mercantile since her first week in Hope Springs. Mr. Johnson had spent that visit belittling and insulting her. She’d been told to keep to the shadows and keep quiet. From all Katie had learned of the shopkeeper since, she expected more of the same.

She stood beneath the overhang in front of the mercantile, taking a moment to build up the fortitude she knew she’d need. She was about to hand over some of her precious savings to a man who would treat her terribly from the moment she entered his establishment. But she needed medicinal powders, and he was the only one who had them.

Filthy Irishwoman.
Mr. Johnson’s words echoed anew in her memory. The venom in his voice had shocked her then. Little about the hatred in Hope Springs surprised her anymore. It still hurt. It hurt deeply, but it was no longer unexpected.

She took a deep breath, then another. She opened the door, a bell sounding overhead. She held her chin at a confident angle, determined to prevent Mr. Johnson from seeing that he intimidated her. Some of that confidence slipped, though, upon seeing he was not alone. Nearly any other customer, except perhaps Mr. Archibald, would have been more welcome than Reverend Ford. Her one and only encounter with him had not ended well either.

“Good day.” She managed a smile, though she knew it didn’t precisely ring with enthusiasm.

The reverend seemed surprised to see her. Mr. Johnson simply looked annoyed.

“I am a busy man,” the shopkeeper said as he stood behind his counter doing, as near as Katie could tell, absolutely nothing.

She nodded. “I’ve come to make a purchase, whenever you’ve time to see to it.”

Mr. Johnson’s attention shifted back to the preacher. Katie hung back a step or two. She’d give them room to conduct any business they had, but she’d not allow herself to be completely forgotten.

“How long before your wife is likely to deliver?” the reverend asked.

Katie hadn’t heard Mrs. Johnson was in a family way, but she didn’t interact with anyone on the Red Road, nor did she attend Sunday services.

“Another two months or more,” Mr. Johnson said. “But she’s already finding her chores here too cumbersome.” He shrugged, though the gesture seemed more resigned than dismissive. “No one here is looking for work. I haven’t had a single inquiry since putting the sign up, and it’s been months.”

Katie muscled down a smile at the irony of his words. She’d been trying to find a permanent job since her second day in town. She’d been told the sign he hung in his window specifically said he wasn’t hiring Irish, otherwise he might have filled the position long ago.

“Have you hired a teacher yet?” Mr. Johnson asked.

The reverend shook his head.

Katie let her thoughts and eyes wander.

The mercantile was not quite so tidy as she remembered it from when she’d last stepped inside months earlier. Perhaps she was only looking about with a more critical eye now that she knew just how much she didn’t care for the man. Or, more likely still, Mrs. Johnson’s now-cumbersome chores involved straightening and sweeping and dusting the shop, and those things simply weren’t getting done as often.

“What is it you want?”

She realized with a jolt that Mr. Johnson was addressing her. “I’ve come to purchase medicinal powders.” She spoke with a steady, confident voice.

Something like a laugh entered his eyes. “A popular inquiry for y’all today.”

Katie gave a small nod.

“You’ve heard the price is five dollars?” Mr. Johnson clearly doubted she had the money.

“I have.” She glanced at the preacher, still standing near the counter. “And have you heard, Reverend, that Ian O’Connor, who I feel the need to remind you is among the faithful members of your congregation, is lying up the road, bruised and broken, and, more than once these past days, hovering on the very cliff of death?”

He held himself stiffly. “I have.”

Katie tipped her head as if in thought. “Odd, that. If you knew a member of your flock was ailing so bad—tiptoeing at the edge of his very life—why is it the family’s not seen you once in the days since he was laid so low? I thought that was a duty held sacred by a man of the cloth.”

The reverend blustered a moment.

“And neither did I hear a squeak of protest when Mr. Johnson, here, declared that, now that the powders are needed by one in a most terrible hour of suffering, he’s raised the price from two bits yesterday to five dollars today. Do you not find that inhumane?”

“Now, just one moment—” Mr. Johnson protested loudly.

Katie spoke over him. “Let us hope, Reverend Ford, you do not find yourself laid low some awful day and our local merchant decides to use your misfortune to line his pockets.”

Mr. Johnson leaned closer to her. “I do believe the price for those powders has just increased to
seven
dollars. Keep talking, and I’ll go higher.”

She didn’t let a hint of her concern show. “You’ve not seen fit to visit the O’Connors in their time of need, Reverend. Will you not at least help see that Ian has something to relieve his suffering? Will you allow him to fall victim to such a lack of basic kindness from this man?”

The preacher’s face pinked with unbecoming blotches. Katie fully expected him to rail at her, to protest his innocence, to insult her presumptuousness. He surprised her.

“You told the woman five dollars, Jeremiah,” he said in a quiet, calm voice. “The Christian thing would be to keep your word.”

“Reverend—”

“The Red Road pays two bits,” the preacher said. “I am certain you are making a tidy profit charging her five dollars. You cannot claim financial hardship.”

Mr. Johnson’s mouth pulled in a tight line. His eyes narrowed. Katie held her breath. She didn’t have seven dollars in her pocket. She had not even a ha’penny more than five. Five dollars was a painful enough sacrifice; seven would likely bring her to tears.

The preacher, to his credit, did not abandon the issue and cleared his throat meaningfully.

Mr. Johnson reached behind him, pulling down a bottle of powders and setting it on the counter in front of Katie.

“Five dollars.” The words came out as a growl.

Katie ignored his tone. As unfair as it was, five dollars was better than seven.

She set the small pile of money from her pocket on the counter. Though the man pictured on the bills was not the same on all five, she’d been told they were worth the same amount, that the face had changed only the year before. Both Mr. Johnson and the reverend seemed satisfied. The merchant took her money, and she took the medicine.

Clutching the bottle, she turned to face the preacher, feeling a bit ashamed of her harsh words earlier. Perhaps he’d deserved them, but he
had
done her a great service, one she’d not foreseen. Katie wouldn’t let that moment of kindness pass unacknowledged.

“I thank you for this, Reverend.”

Was he as surprised as she was to find them allies even for a fleeting moment?

He gave a brief nod but didn’t look her fully in the eye. Apparently he found the situation more uncomfortable than unexpected. Perhaps the best expression of gratitude would be to leave and let him explain away in his own mind the short time they’d spent in agreement with each other.

She hurried up the road, offering a quick wave to Seamus Kelly, standing outside his blacksmith shop, as she passed. Worry and hope pushed her on. Ian would find some relief once he had the powders. He’d sleep, and heal. And Biddy’s mind and heart would find some peace as well.

Katie stopped briefly at Granny Claire’s home to pick up her fiddle before continuing to Biddy and Ian’s. The house was full when she arrived, chaotic almost. Ian’s sisters and brothers wove about in a tapestry of busyness. They stood and sat and moved about, some eating, some talking, a couple even dusting and straightening up. Katie stood at the door, watching them, unnoticed.

She’d learned to love this family. Watching them help one another and care for one another filled an almost lifelong void in her heart. She’d once been part of a loving family. She’d once had parents and siblings who watched over her. But she’d lost everything while still a small child. She’d been alone since she was eight years old. Nearly two decades of loneliness had taken quite a toll. How she wanted to be part of what the O’Connors had.

She pulled the door closed behind her. Ciara, Tavish’s youngest sister, smiled at Katie as she stepped inside, but returned quickly to tending to her niece and nephew. Katie nodded a greeting to a few of the others in the room, slowly making her way among them all. They knew each other so well. No one fumbled about like she did, searching for their place and their role.

Is this to be my lot in life, then?
She walked on her own toward Ian’s bedroom, holding the bottle of powders tightly in her hand.
Among them, but not really a part of them?

Tavish stepped out of his brother’s bedroom in the very next instant. His smile blossomed on the spot. “Why, hello there, Sweet Katie.”

Katie took a deep and purifying breath. Relief took hold inside. So long as she had Tavish, she wouldn’t be alone.

“Hello, then,” she said. “Did you miss me?”

He leaned against the doorframe. “Did I miss you? When did you start asking daft questions?” He brushed a hand along her cheek. “I always miss you when you’re gone.”

Heat spread up her neck. His touch did that to her every time, no matter how brief the contact. Bless Tavish O’Connor. He didn’t forget her. He didn’t overlook her. She was part of his world without needing to ask.

“I have something for—
Ian.
” Katie smiled at Tavish’s look of highly exaggerated shock. “Thought I brought
you
something special, did you?”

“If my brother weren’t looking all beaten and pathetic, I might be horribly jealous of him just now.”

She held up her fiddle case. “I thought I’d give Biddy a rest from her humming.”

“Ah, music from our Katie.” Tavish smiled fondly. “That’ll be a treat, to be sure.”

She held out the bottle of powders. “And I’ve brought Ian this.”

Tavish’s smile vanished. “Begorra, Katie. Johnson was demanding five dollars for a bottle.”

“I had some savings,” she said. Uncertainty touched her shrinking feeling of accomplishment.

“But five dollars, Katie. That’s too dear.”

She shook her head. “Ian cannot heal if he cannot rest, and he cannot rest if he is in pain.”

He looked almost upset, somewhere just shy of angry. “That was your going-home money, Katie.”

It
was
her going-home money, but it was more than that. It was her funds for giving Father back his land, money for her sister’s headstone. But none of that was on her horizon any longer. Having chosen to stay in Hope Springs, it was now her money for starting over again. It was her future.

Keep your head above water on this, Katie. You need to be strong.

“I meant to get the powders my own self, Katie, once I’d finished my day’s work. I’ll pay you back the five dollars.”

“No, Tavish. I can do this for them.”

“You
can,
certainly, but you don’t have to. We’re his family; we’ll see to it he has the medicines he needs. You needn’t worry.”

We’re his family.
Meaning, of course, she wasn’t. She wasn’t anyone’s family.

“Is Biddy about?” A change of topic would save her from an embarrassing breakdown. “I’d like to give her the powders.”

“She’s in the sickroom, where else?”