Wings of a Dove (26 page)

    "No, that has nothing to do with it. I'm not afraid of hard work. I never have been."

    Max squinted, his lined face screwing up into an expression of intense scrutiny. "No, maybe not, but I think you're stretchin' yourself pretty thin these days. Maybe I'm expectin' a little too much of you."

    Delaney stiffened. "Have you ever given me anything I can't handle?"

    "That isn't the problem."

    "Then what is the problem?"

    "That's what I asked you, boy."

    Delaney's silent stare was his only response.

    Max burst out in exasperation, "Is that all you've got to say?"

    Silence once more.

    Muttering low under his breath, Max stood up and covered the distance between their desks in a few short steps. Hands on his hips, he stood looking down at Delaney and shook his head. "You know, you're a hard one to figure. I took a chance, hirin' you. I didn't know you from Adam, except for the talk about you in town."

    Delaney's eyes narrowed, but he made no response.

    "Yeah, there sure as hell was plenty of that. Whether you know it or not, you've got a reputation as a surly brute with a bad history, and I'm thinkin' you earned that reputation."

    "Maybe I did."

    "That's what I figured. I also figured that someone with your background deserved a chance to make it in this line of work, if that's what he wanted. Hell, your pa was one fine newspaperman."

    A long- subdued pride stirred deep inside Delaney.

    "I figured you had a long way to go before you'd be fit to shine your father's boots, but I'm tellin' you now, straight and to the point, that you've got the
makin's
of bein' as good a journalist as your father was. Maybe even better."

    Startled by Max Marshall's unexpected praise, Delaney did not reply.

    "What's the matter, boy? You look as if somebody just kicked the chair out from under you. What were you expectin' me to say? You've done a damned good job, and you've worked like hell. You've got a sharp mind, and judgin' from the stuff you've already written, you've got a style all your own. You can organize your thoughts and put them down in a way to make people     sit up and take notice. But more than that, you're more goddam determined than any fella I've seen around here in the past twenty years. I'm thinkin' that the life you led before you came here did a lot toward makin' you realize what you want and how you need to get it. And I think you're tough enough to do just exactly what you want, without lettin' anythin' get in your way."

    Pausing, Max shook his balding pate, his bushy gray brows furrowing. "But you've got one drawback, boy. You're a damned nasty piece of work sometimes, and hard for people to swallow. Me included."

    Maintaining his silence a few moments longer, Delaney returned Max's stare. A small muscle twitched in his cheek. "You trying to tell me something, Max?"

    "I started out by askin' a question and didn't get an answer, so it looks as if I have to do the tellin', doesn't it? I'm going to lay some things out for you now, just so everythin' will be set and clear once and for all. I suppose you've been
wonderin
' why I've been
pilin
' so much work on you the past few months."

    "I haven't had the time to give it much thought."

    "Yeah, I figured that. Maybe that's part of the problem."

    Delaney stiffened, his pale eyes again cold. "Well, if it is, it's my problem, not yours."

    "That's where you're wrong, but I don't expect to go over that ground again. Look, Delaney, take that chip off your shoulder and listen to me for a few minutes. You got shortchanged somewhere along the line, there isn't any doubt about that. You'd be
workin
' on a big-city newspaper right now if your pa was still alive, because you've got talent. You're quick and you're smart, and you've got instinct that doesn't come with book
learnin
'. I'm goin' to tell you somethin' else, too. It irks me that a man like your pa was beaten by big money and political influence just because he reported the truth."

    The sudden tension in Delaney's expression caused Max to shake his head emphatically. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but your pa just bucked the wrong organization, and he paid the hard way. There's not a thing either one of us can do about it, but that doesn't make knowin' it easier to swallow." Max gave a short, hard laugh. "Maybe that's a part of what's stuck in your craw, but I don't think that's what's botherin' you right now. Anyway, I think you deserve a chance. It's going to   take a lot of hard work, and I'm not opposed to handin' it out if you're not opposed to takin' it.''

    Delaney eyed the wizened face looking directly into his. "What are you trying to say, Max?"

    "I'm tellin' you that if you object to the work you've been
handlin
' now, speak up. From the looks of you today, I'd say you've had just about as much as you can take, and if that's what's botherin' you, I admit that puts a crimp in my plans. I was thinkin' of expandin' your duties, takin' you out with me so you can see how I gather information. And then if you're up to it, I'm thinkin' of lettin' you start puttin' things together."

    "You know damned well I'm up to it."

    "I wouldn't say so from the looks of you today."

    "I told you"

    "You didn't tell me anything, boy. You're pulled as tight as a drum."

    "And I told you it's got nothing to do with work."

    "What does it have to do with, then? Play?" Max's eyes intent on Delaney's face, caught the flicker in the light eyes returning his stare. His mouth suddenly dropping open, Max released a low grunt of disgust. "Oh, hell, not woman trouble!"

    Delaney made no response, and Max shook his weary head as realization dawned full and clear. "Christ! That's what it is, all right."

    Taking a deep breath, Max turned and walked the few steps back to his desk. Sitting down, he contemplated Delaney's silence. "Well, my first impression of you was right, I can see that. You are a hard case, but even a hard case needs some softenin' sometimes."

    Pausing, Max turned to look through the window at a horizon streaked with gray and gold. He turned back toward Delaney.

    "You're not much good to me today, Delaney. Get out of here and get yourself straightened out. I'm tired of your growlin' and your surly looks. When you come back on Thursday, I want you to be ready for the work that will be waitin' for you. There's goin' to be plenty of it."

    "Max, I don't need"

    "I know what you need boy. I'm not
that
old, you know. Take a walk around the corner to Lil's place, if that'll do the trick."

    Max didn't miss much. Irritation twitched at Delaney's lips.

    "I don't like people telling me where to go or what to do on my own time."

    The editor's bloodshot eyes narrowed further. "You aren't short on nerve, are you?" Watching as Delaney drew himself to his feet in silence, his expression black, Max eyed him just as blackly in return.

    "I got a question to ask you, Delaney. Who's the boss in this establishment?"

    Delaney stiffened. "You are."

    "And what are you doin' here?"

    "Working for you."

    Max nodded. "You got that right. Try to remember it. Now, get the hell out of here and get yourself straightened out. I don't give a damn how you do it, and I don't care how much you don't like me tellin' you. Just get movin'."

    Max made no effort to glance his way as Delaney turned, snatched his hat off the wall, and walked out of the office without another word.

    The door slammed closed behind him, but not before Delaney heard Max's muttered reply, "A man of few words."

    It occurred to Delaney as he reached the street, untied his horse's reins, and mounted, that maybe that was the problem. There had been too few words lately, and it was time he got things settled. Hell, it was long overdue.

    It was unusually warm for so late in the year. That thought had crossed Margaret's mind several times during the afternoon while she sat on the porch and snapped the beans in the large bowl on her lap. The clanging of pans in the kitchen drew her mind to the young girl who was working there and to another young woman who wasn't.

    Withdrawing a handkerchief from her apron pocket, Margaret blotted the perspiration from her fair brow and tried to take a deep breath. She was not successful. Why was it she could never seem to get enough air into her lungs these days? The attempt often left her breathless and light-headed, and she realized, not without considerable guilt, that her condition had not gone unnoticed by her family. She knew that was the reason Allie had suggested that she sit on the porch while she finished cleaning    up the kitchen. Rather than argue with the girl's good intentions, she had complied.

    Margaret's thoughts moved to Sarah, and familiar lines of worry appeared on her brow. Sarah had been extremely tense lately, and when she was not at her best, everyone suffered. The family tensions that had resulted from her strange mood the past week had been almost unbearable. How she wished it was easier to talk to Sarah, but the girl had long ago grown past the age where she confided in her mother.

    In the hope of seeing an improvement in her daughter's disposition, Margaret had excused Sarah from her chores to ride out with Bobbie Clark when he arrived a few hours earlier. Bobbie's unexpected visit appeared to be just the medicine Sarah needed. The warmth of her reception had made Bobbie turn bright red with pleasure, and Sarah had not been satisfied until she had the poor boy so besotted that he could hardly talk.

    Margaret shook her head in dismay. Sarah was incorrigible. She feared the girl was spoiled beyond redemption, and it was her fault. She had realized too late that, unlike her other children, Sarah took advantage of her love to the point where it had become detrimental to her character. Such was not the case with James, who was kind and thoughtful to everyone except Delaney, and dear Annie had been endlessly giving. As for Allie, love had made her bloom.

    The problem with Sarah was that she had been an outstandingly beautiful baby and child, and now that she was mature, she was too lovely for her own good. She had always been fussed and petted over and had accepted the attention as her due. The result was that she expected too much without being willing to give in return. She only hoped that Sarah's demanding nature would not keep her from finding happiness. The fact that she could not always have what she wanted was a bitter pill for her to swallow, but Delaney seemed to be just the person to make her take that medicine.

    Margaret's brow furrowed with anxiety. Sarah's infatuation with Delaney was only too obvious to her, and perhaps to the other members of the family as well. Margaret had spent many anxious hours contemplating the pressure Sarah's obsession put on the others in the household. It was to Delaney's credit that he was never more than polite to Sarah, most times not even    extending her that courtesy. Well, Margaret could not blame him. She supposed a boy who had experienced so much hardship would have little patience for Sarah's pettishness. The sooner Sarah learned that Delaney was forever beyond her the better. Maybe then she would turn to Bobbie Clark with more honesty. He was, after all, a very personable young man.

    A light step behind her turned Margaret from her thoughts. A smile broke across her pale face as Allie stepped out onto the porch.

    "I've set a place for Bobbie at the table, too, just in case Sarah decides to ask him to stay for supper." Allie smiled as she lowered herself to a chair nearby, and Margaret's heart warmed. She had grown to love that smile, just as she had grown to love the child.

    Reaching out, Margaret smoothed back a flyaway wisp of hair from Allie's perspiring cheek.

    "Thank you, dear. I apologize for allowing Sarah to go off and leave you with all the work."

    Allie's soft brown eyes were suddenly sober. "I don't mind. I'm truly glad to see Sarah doing something she likes
with
someone she likes, and Bobbie is nice. He makes Sarah laugh."

    Aware of Sarah's viciousness toward the child who was speaking so generously, Margaret felt a flush of shame.

    "It was a blessed day when Jacob and I went to the church meeting hall and found you. You've added immeasurably to our life, dear, and I thank the Lord every night for directing us to you."

    Allie lowered her eyes, and Margaret realized the reason for Allie's silence: She had not included Delaney in her heartfelt declaration, and she knew Allie suffered for the omission.

    "Allie, you know I love Delaney dearly. I could not help but love him for the concern he shows for you and me, but he worries me, dear."

    Allie turned to her with a fearful expression, and Margaret shook her head in an attempt to banish it. "You don't have to worry, Allie. I give you my word that Delaney may remain here as long as he wants, as long as I have the strength to speak my mind. He's not in danger of being turned out."

    Relief registered in Allie's eyes, but not in Margaret's.

    "I worry about him in another way," Margaret went on. "There's a bitterness inside him, a relentlessness that drives him. He finds no peace, no matter how much he accomplishes. I fear