Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four (37 page)

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C
larissa sat
at the reserved table at one of the best restaurants in Butte, tapping her fingers in agitation. “He told me that he’d come,” she said in a low voice to Savannah, Zylphia and Melinda. Her frown lifted as Patrick burst through the doors, but her frown reappeared when she saw a woman on his arm. “I didn’t realize he’d bring her.”

Patrick scanned the room until it settled on them in the corner, and he smiled. He slipped past the waiters, guiding Fiona as they neared the tabled toward the rear of the restaurant.

Clarissa rose, pulling him close for a quick embrace. “It’s wonderful to see you,” she whispered into his ear. He gave her a squeeze before releasing her.

Savannah and Melinda did the same, Melinda throwing herself into his arms and wrapping her arms around his waist.

He chuckled, caressing her golden curls a moment before kissing her on her head and releasing her. “Hi, Sav, Melly,” he murmured. “You look wonderful.”

Savannah beamed at him and included Fiona in her smile. “Thanks, we’ve had a fun afternoon shopping at Hennessy’s.” Savannah looked to Fiona. “I’m Savannah. This is my daughter Melinda, and Clarissa is Patrick’s sister.” Savannah nodded to Clarissa, a teasing smile on her face. “The black-haired beauty is Zylphia, our cousin from Boston.”

Fiona met their curious gazes but did not smile. “I’m Fiona O’Leary. I’m a friend of Patrick’s.”

“You’re more than that if what I hear is true,” Clarissa muttered, earning a glare from Savannah.

Melinda, oblivious to the tension between the adults, tugged on Patrick’s hand and dragged him into a chair next to her. “Mama bought a new dress today, as did Rissa.”

“Did you get one too?” Patrick asked, his gaze taking in Melly’s evolving features, less girllike and more like a young woman every day. He brushed a golden curl away from her cheek. He smiled up at Fiona as she sat between Savannah and Zylphia.

“No, I have plenty of clothes. And I can buy whatever I need at the Merc. That’s what Papa tells me, and he’s always right.”

Patrick laughed. “Yes, your father is always right.” He turned his focus to the remaining member at their table. “I beg your pardon. I’m Patrick.” He held out his hand.

Zylphia smiled. “I’m Zylphia, but everyone calls me Zee. I’m Aidan and Delia’s daughter.”

“Of course you are,” he said with a broad smile. “You look just like a McLeod.”

Zylphia ran a self-conscious hand over her raven hair. “That’s what everyone says.”

He nodded to Fiona. “All of the McLeods, who include Clarissa’s and Savannah’s husbands, have black hair and either green or blue eyes.”

“What part of Scotland is your family from?” Fiona asked.

“I was always told we were from Ireland, but I could be wrong,” Zylphia said with a shrug.

“You’re from Ireland, Miss O’Leary?” Savannah asked.

“I am. From Kerry originally.” She attempted a small smile as she pleated the tablecloth over and over.

“Well, we’re glad you moved to Butte to meet our Patrick,” Savannah said. She reached out a hand to clasp Miss O’Leary’s and met her startled gaze. As the conversation continued around them, she began a quiet discussion with her. “I can’t tell you how delighted I was to receive your letter, asking me for my aid. I wish I’d had the courage to do the same.”

Fiona met her gaze and whispered, “I’m so ashamed. I never meant to harm your family.”

“The only way you’ll harm our family is if you treat Patrick false.” Savannah shared a long look with her. “Henry would have found a way to enrage his cousins with or without your help. Just thinking about him angers them. Besides, we’re a notorious-enough group that he didn’t need to do much detective work to discover hurtful facts about us.”

“You talk about your notoriety as though it brings you pride.” Fiona watched Savannah with bemused wonder.

“It’s either that or hide away in shame, and I refuse to do that. When you get to know Rissa, she’s the last person who will ever retreat from another person’s opinion about her or her life.” She saw Fiona look around the table—Zylphia laughing at Clarissa, Melinda teasing a smile from Patrick—and squeezed Fiona’s hand. “We’re really not a scary bunch, but we are outspoken and fiercely tight-knit and protective of each other.”

Fiona nodded as she met Savannah’s gaze. “I want in.”

Savannah threw back her head as she laughed. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

“Fiona,” Clarissa asked from the other side of the round table, “how have you been feeling?”

“Fine, thank you.” She stared pointedly at Melinda, who beamed at her.

“When’s your baby coming? I can’t wait to meet it!” She bounced in her chair in her exuberance, reminding everyone she was more of a child than a young woman.

“Oh, I imagine your little cousin will be a Christmas present,” Zylphia said as Fiona appeared struck dumb at the casual conversation.

“Yea! I can’t wait to meet her. I don’t want a boy cousin. They’re not much fun to play with.”

“Just because Billy didn’t understand the fine art of a tea party doesn’t mean he isn’t fun to play with,” Clarissa protested with a laugh. “If I remember correctly, you enjoy your romps in the woods with him the most because he’s not afraid of getting dirty.”

Melinda looked toward the ceiling as though deep in thought. “I guess either one would be fine.”

Patrick chortled out a laugh. “Well, that’s a good thing because those are your two options, and you don’t have a choice.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “No more questions. You’re overwhelming Fee.”

Melly slumped into her chair, and the adults around the table chuckled.

He looked over to Fiona and shared a long look with her, earning a small smile from her.

Clarissa watched the interaction, relaxing for the first time into her chair since she’d seen Fiona enter the restaurant with him. “Fiona, it’s lovely to finally meet you,” Clarissa said.

“If you are able to spend a few days here in Butte, we hope you will witness our wedding,” Patrick said with a toast of the champagne that had just been poured for them.

“It’s final then?” Clarissa asked, reaching forward to grip his arm and then outstretching a hand toward Fiona for one of hers. At Patrick’s nod, she squeezed their hands once in support before releasing them. “Thank God.”

“I received word today. I’m no longer a Flaherty,” Fiona said.

“You never were a Flaherty,” Patrick said. “And soon you’ll be a Sullivan.” Then addressing the others, he said, “We plan to marry the day after tomorrow.”

“Excellent. We’ll simply change our tickets and stay for another day,” Clarissa said, sharing a quick look with Savannah.

As they ate their meals, Clarissa glanced around the restaurant. “Patrick, there seems to be a nervous energy in the city right now. It’s not how I remember Butte.”

Patrick sighed, his fingers strumming alongside his beer glass. “You’re observant to detect it.” He lowered his voice, and they leaned forward to hear him. “The miners are on edge. You remember last year when I told you about the card system?”

They nodded, but he glanced at Zylphia and knew she wouldn’t understand. “There’s been a card system in place for over a year among the miners. It ensures that they are members of the union and is supposed to help the mine owners know they are getting capable miners. However, some believe it unfairly favors the Irish, to keep other nationalities from getting good work and to unjustly label miners as Socialists.

“Last year, five hundred Finns were forced from their jobs due to the card system. A large number of miners protested because the union didn’t strike for their unjustly fired members. So, two weeks ago, a group of men refused to show their cards at the Black Rock and Speculator mines.” He shook his head at Clarissa’s unasked question. “Not any of the Company’s mines. A small act of defiance but it may be just the beginning.”

“So you think something more will happen?” Savannah asked.

“Well, the next day was the disturbance at the annual miners’ parade. Generally a day where the miners march, showing unity and their pride in what they do. Instead there was a near brawl and violence. Then, that evening, men broke into the Miners’ Union Hall, stole the safe and all the records.”

“What would that accomplish?” Zylphia asked.

“If the union and mine owners don’t know who’s paid union dues, then the cards are worthless,” Patrick said. “The union plans a meeting tomorrow night at the miners’ hall to calm everyone. Even officials from out of state are coming to calm the members of their largest union.” Patrick shook his head as he considered what was going on in Butte.

“What will happen to the miners if they have no union?” Clarissa whispered.

Patrick glanced around the room and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

She reached forward and clasped his hand. “Stay safe. Please, Patrick.”

“I’m not a miner, Rissa. This has nothing to do with me.”

“But you work for the Company. You could still be harmed in some way.” She squeezed his hand once before releasing it.

“How do you know so much about the miners?” Zylphia asked. “From what I understand of businessmen, they pay little attention to the men working under them.”

“Well, those with any sense treat their workers well. Like Ford and his eight-hour day and $5-per-day pledge for his workers.” Patrick took a bite of his steak. He lowered his voice further. “I have a friend who’s a miner. He keeps me informed when he’s in Butte.”

“Not something your Company appreciates?” Clarissa asked with a wry smile.

Patrick shook his head.

“They should,” Zylphia argued. “They should be relieved someone knows what’s going on so that things aren’t such a surprise to them.”

“Those in charge at the company aren’t that intelligent.” Fiona’s eyes blazed with impassioned anger.

“As Fee said, that’s not the nature of things here,” Patrick said.

* * *

T
he following morning
, the McLeod women walked into the suffrage committee headquarters and waited their turn to speak with the secretary. They looked past her at the rows of desks bustling with women typing or discussing strategy. A large map of Montana hung on a far wall, with stick pins of differing colors highlighting the cities and towns.

“How may I help you?” the secretary asked when she was free.

“I am Savannah McLeod. These are my cousins Clarissa and Zylphia McLeod, and this is my daughter, Melinda McLeod. We’ve traveled from Missoula to meet with Miss O’Reilly” She shared a wink with Melinda as the secretary’s eyes widened slightly.

“Of course. If you will wait a moment.” She rose and moved toward the back and entered a small office area.

“Who’s Miss O’Reilly?” Zylphia whispered as they waited.

“One of the leaders who works closely with Miss Rankin,” Savannah whispered.

The secretary returned a few moments later and motioned for them to follow her.

Miss O’Reilly sat behind a desk covered in newspaper clippings. She smiled weakly as they entered the room and frowned when she realized she only had two chairs. “I beg your pardon. I don’t have enough seats.”

“It’s fine,” Savannah and Clarissa said at the same time. Zylphia motioned for them to sit, and she stood behind them with Melinda.

“I’m thankful you were able to travel here to us. Miss Zylphia McLeod’s arrival was heralded by numerous letters from our counterparts in Massachusetts. I’ve honestly never seen the like before.” She raised an eyebrow as she watched them over her wire-framed glasses. Her fingers were smudged with newspaper ink, as were her previously pristine shirt cuffs.

“That would be our friend Mrs. Sophronia Chickering’s doing,” Clarissa said as she swallowed a chuckle. “She’s a firm believer in introductions.”

Miss O’Reilly rifled through the papers on her desk before extracting one and tipping her head down to read it. “She wrote as though I should be preparing for the arrival of the pope himself.” She grinned as she saw the women sitting across from her hiding their embarrassment. “
I expect her to be feted to the highest of your abilities. Never again will such a woman with such dedication to the cause present herself with no expectation of remittance of any kind
.” Miss O’Reilly raised an amused eyebrow. “It goes on for a good three pages.”

“For the love of …” Zylphia muttered.

“After reading your good friend’s ramblings, I finally discerned that her main worry was that I would separate Miss Zylphia from the rest of you. I find I don’t have the heart to write such a letter. Thus, I’m happy to report that Miss Zylphia should canvass with the McLeod women in Missoula and the Bitter Root Valley as we work toward success in November.”

Zylphia sighed her relief and smiled her agreement.

“I have two other concerns we must discuss, since you are here,” Miss O’Reilly said, picking up a pencil and doodling on a scrap piece of paper. “First, Mrs. McLeod—Mrs. Savannah McLeod,” she clarified, “I wanted to assure you that everything has been prepared for your brother’s tour through Montana. We of the committee were anxious when he needed to postpone a few weeks but are thankful he will arrive in early July for the concerts. All performance halls have been booked, and we have secured rooms for him.”