Unending Devotion Page 4

  That’s the way the lumber industry worked, the way his dad had run the business for the past twenty years. Through hard work and savvy, Dad had transformed himself from a poor, starving Irish immigrant into a millionaire.

  And he expected nothing less than hard work and savvy from his sons.

  A flash of color along Main Street drew Connell’s attention back to the window.

  Lily Young picked up her skirts and dashed across the street like a schoolboy.

  “That girl is something else,” he mumbled.

  She stopped in front of Johnson’s Hotel. Wrapped in a heavy woolen coat, she stared at the big lettering across the front of the building. Her bright flowery skirt flapped in the wind, as out of place in the dull gray of winter as the girl herself was in the mostly male-populated lumber town.

  She swiped aside a loose curl that slapped at her cheek and then stepped toward the double doors.

  His muscles tightened. She couldn’t possibly intend to go inside. Couldn’t she see that the word Saloon was painted across the large front window, one bright red letter in each square pane?

  There might not be much any of them could do to rid the town of the drinking and whoring that went on, but that didn’t mean he liked it or supported it. And he certainly didn’t think the establishment was the kind of place a decent young lady should enter—not at great peril to herself and her reputation.

  Lily pushed open one of the doors and stepped inside.

  “What? Is she crazy?” He spun from the window and clomped across the room, an anxious spark shooting through his gut like the snap of the crackling birch in the stove.

  Without bothering to close the door of his office, he charged into the hallway and took the steps two at a time, hitting the bottom at full speed. He passed by the open door that led to Stuart’s printing press and headed straight for the front door.

  “Hey, where you going, you lazybones?” Stuart called, stepping into the hallway, wiping his ink-stained hands on a blackened rag.

  Connell didn’t take the time to answer but instead rushed outside, letting the cold morning reawaken him.

  It had taken only two minutes after Lily’s entrance into the Northern Hotel last evening for Jimmy Neil to grab hold of her. Of course, Jimmy would be down working at the loading docks all day and wouldn’t be in any of the taverns to bother her. In fact, Connell doubted there were many men sitting around Johnson’s saloon in the middle of the morning. But all it would take was one—one just like Jimmy—and Lily would be in big trouble.

  Connell started across the street but then stopped abruptly.

  Through the narrow rectangular window of the saloon door, he could see her outline. One of her mittened hands pressed against the glass, almost as if she were prepared to run if need be.

  His breath rose in puffy clouds in front of him.

  “What are you all excited about?” Stuart joined him in the middle of the wide street. He carried his rag in one hand and a pica stick in the other. He glanced around the nearly deserted street as if trying to surmise what was wrong. “We don’t have another accidental fire, do we?”

  Halfway down the street, the charred remains of the new county jail glared from beneath a frosted covering of ice. Several weeks ago, the fire had started in the middle of the night, and by the time the fire bells had awakened the townspeople, they hadn’t had a praying chance to save the place. Built entirely out of wood, the jail had burned to the ground within minutes.

  Of course Stuart had his theory about who had started the fire. “And what’s the use of having a jail anyway?” his friend would say. “The sheriff wouldn’t ever lock anyone up, not when he’d have to lock himself up first.”

  “I’m not all excited. And no. There’s no fire.” Connell took a step back and glanced at the saloon door. Lily hadn’t moved from her spot.

  Stuart peered around. His eyes narrowed, his investigative mind likely already hard at work.

  A gust of wind knocked into Connell, reminding him that he’d rushed outside without his mackinaw.

  “So,” Stuart said, “if we’re not fighting fires, what are we doing out here freezing off our behinds?”

  Heat crept up Connell’s neck. What was he doing?

  Apparently Lily didn’t need rescuing from him this time.

  Stuart focused in on the saloon door, and he squinted. “Oh, so that’s what we’re doing out here.”

  Connell shifted his attention to the sleigh coming down the wide street. He took a couple of steps backward, moving out of the way and nodding to the man driving the team.

  Stuart grinned. “Or should I say, she’s why we’re out here.”

  Connell refused to give his friend the satisfaction of an answer.

  “Word’s going around town that she got the best of two big men last night. Jimmy Neil and another strong man, who happens to be standing in the middle of Main Street, ogling at her—”

  “I’m not ogling at her.” Connell looked far off to the south, to the puffs of black smoke billowing in the air, the distant signal that the train—a branch of the Flint and Pere Marquette Railroad—would make its daily appearance in Harrison. “And she didn’t get the best of me.”

  Stuart slugged him in the arm. The point of Stuart’s middle knuckle jabbed Connell hard enough to throw him off balance. Stuart wasn’t a big man. In fact, everything about him was thin. His face was a narrow oval covered with a scraggly beard. His arms and legs were as skinny as the branches of a sapling. If Connell hadn’t witnessed the man’s enormous appetite on occasion, he would have guessed Stuart wasn’t getting enough to eat.

  “Sounds like she’s got quite the spirit if she can get the best of you.”

  “I was rescuing her from Jimmy, and she fell on top of me.”

  “Rescuing?” Stuart gave a snort. “From the way I heard it, she did a pretty good job taking care of herself.”

  “No telling what could have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in when I did.”

  Stuart laughed. “Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.”

  The door of Johnson’s saloon swung open, and Connell didn’t have time to get irritated at his friend. Lily shifted to the crude board that served as a step and pulled the door closed behind her. She paused and sighed, lines of frustration etched across her forehead.

  Apparently she hadn’t found her sister at Johnson’s. Even if her sister were there, Connell doubted Johnson would let her go. The brothel owners had a hard time attracting girls, and once they got them, they didn’t like to lose them.

  Lily straightened her shoulders and let the lines ease from her forehead. She set her lips with obvious determination and then stepped into the street. She glanced first one way and then the other. If she saw him and Stuart, she gave no indication.

  Stuart muttered, “Why don’t you say something?”

  Connell wanted to, but his lips felt like they were frozen shut. He’d never been all that suave around pretty girls. And not only was this girl pretty, but she had enough spunk to knock a man off his feet—literally.

  Stuart jabbed his ribs with his bony elbow. “At least go over to her.”

  Connell couldn’t make his feet work either.

  Lily stepped into the street and headed in the direction of the next closest tavern.

  “You big chicken,” Stuart said under his breath. Then he took off at a jog. “Miss Young,” he called. “I’m Stuart Golden. Chief editor and owner of the Harrison Herald.”

  She stopped. She grabbed her flapping skirt and angled her head at Stuart.

  He gave her a wide smile, one that froze Connell’s insides like a lump of gravy on a cold tin plate. “And I’m a friend of Connell McCormick.” Stuart tossed a nod his way.

  She glanced at Connell for less than a second, but it was long enough for him to see that she was still holding him in disdain for the conversation they’d had earlier about the problems in town.

  “Just wanted to introduce myself,” Stuart continued, “a
nd let you know that if you need any help—with anything at all—I’m the man for the job.”

  Her rich brown eyes were framed by lashes that were long and thick enough to sweep a man off his feet. And when she turned her attention upon Stuart, she seemed to do just that—sweep him off his feet and up into the air.

  “Well now, that’s mighty nice of you, Mr. Golden—”

  “Stu.” He regarded her like a puppy its master.

  Connell wished he were standing next to Stuart and could sock him in the arm. Of course, he couldn’t begrudge Stuart the attention of a woman, not after having lost his wife during the diphtheria epidemic that had ravaged Michigan back in ’80. Stuart had lost his son too, and for all practical purposes had given up on the baby daughter he’d handed to the care of his parents who lived down in Saginaw.

  If anyone deserved the company of a good woman, it was Stuart.

  Why, then, did the sight of him going soft over Lily irritate him?

  In a matter of seconds, Stuart had convinced Lily to accompany him into his office building. “I can tell you anything you want to know about any of the taverns in town,” he said, ushering her through the door.

  She stumbled but caught herself and raised her eyebrows at Stuart. “Why, Mr. Golden—”

  “Don’t go thinking I know from personal experience.” He grinned and covered his chest as though wounded. “I’m an investigative reporter. It’s my job to know everything and anything that goes on in this town.”

  Connell trudged behind them and kicked the door closed none too lightly.

  “Besides,” Stuart said, leading the way into his first-floor office that also sufficed as his printing room, “I get the inside scoop from Bass, my part-time assistant. He takes care of frequenting the taverns well enough for the both of us.”

  “Well in that case, how can I refuse your kind offer of help?” She gave him a smile, pointedly ignoring Connell. “Especially when it would seem that there are some in this town who are perfectly content to do nothing about the terrible problems that exist here.”

  Connell leaned against the doorframe of the newspaper office and bit back his response. What did Lily Young know anyway? Sure, she was just trying to find her sister. But she was also an overly idealistic young woman who knew nothing about the stark realities of lumber-town life.

  He wasn’t necessarily turning a blind eye to the problems—was he? He was merely allowing others who were more passionate and capable—like her—to deal with social ills. She obviously felt a strong calling from God to right all the wrongs. If she and others like her were doing the work, then God wouldn’t need his meager help too—would He?

  Besides, he’d already told her that some evils were there to stay. There was a zero percent chance of eradicating them.

  But it wouldn’t do any good to get into another spat with her.

  Stuart lifted a twelve-inch stack of papers from his desk chair and plopped them onto the mounds of papers already strewn across his desk. Then he dragged the chair out and with a wave of his hand offered it to Lily, as if he were showing a queen her throne.

  She sat and tugged off her mittens, not seeming to mind in the least that the room was a cluttered disaster. The job cases and accompanying metal letters were strewn over a three-foot-square table used for setting the type. Ink drums, sheaves of paper, and crumpled wads littered the floor. The Gordon platen jobber Stuart used for printing the weekly paper sat in the middle of the room, and it was a blackened, ink-stained mess, just like the floorboards around it.

  Even though the jobber was operated by a foot treadle and fed by hand, it was still a sturdy machine that had served Stuart well not only for the weekly paper but for other printing jobs—pamphlets, posters, cards, and announcements—for local shops and businesses.

  Yes. There were plenty of good businesses around town. But that didn’t mean Lily was safe.

  “You shouldn’t be visiting the saloons by yourself,” Connell said.

  She pulled off her knit cap. “I didn’t hear you volunteering to come with me earlier.”

  “If I’d known you were going to march around to all the saloons, I would have offered to tag along.”

  Her curly hair tumbled down around her face and framed eyes that widened. “I have a hard time believing you’d tag along with anyone.”

  “Next time try me.”

  She hesitated and her eyes flickered as if she wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “For your information, I’ve been searching the dregs all winter, and I’ve been taking care of myself just fine.”

  Connell shook his head. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

  “I’m not afraid of trouble.”

  “I can see that.” He liked her spunk and her bravery. “However, while you’re here in Harrison, I suggest that you use more discretion and caution.”

  She searched his face, apparently testing the sincerity of his statement. And he hoped she’d see it there. No matter their differences of opinion, she was a nice enough girl. He wouldn’t want to see any harm come to her.

  “Connell’s right.” Stuart perched on the edge of his desk. “Harrison isn’t called ‘Hell’s Waiting Room’ for no reason.”

  Lily stared at Stuart as if taking in the seriousness of his words.

  “As I said before, I can help you too,” Stuart continued, his thin face tight with earnestness. “Anytime you want to search, you just come on by. It’ll give me an excuse to do some investigating of my own on the jail fire.”

  “If you’re sure I won’t be a bother.”

  “You won’t be a bother at all,” Stuart said too eagerly. “In fact, I’d count it a pleasure to go anywhere with you.”

  Connell almost groaned. His friend had fallen fast and hard for Lily. He didn’t blame him. After all, there weren’t many eligible women of decent character in these parts. He figured the ratio had to be at least two hundred men for every one upstanding woman, if not higher.

  He supposed that’s why he couldn’t help his own fascination with her. Alone all winter with mostly men for company, he was letting the first pretty woman who came along turn him into a blushing schoolboy.

  But the truth was, he wasn’t a blushing schoolboy anymore. He’d learned his lesson the hard way two years ago. He’d gotten starry-eyed over a girl, had let her sweep him off his feet, and had floated on the clouds for a while. But eventually, reality had yanked him and he’d come crashing down, smashing the ground with a force that still ached in the deepest marrow of his bones.

  He didn’t need to make the same mistake twice in his twenty-six years of life.

  “I suppose I’d better get back to work.” He pushed away from the doorframe. It didn’t sound like Lily wanted help. But if she did, Stuart was more than willing to give it.

  “Work?” Stuart grinned at him. “Since when do you actually do any work, you lazybones?”

  Connell forced a smile. “That’s true. I can’t work today, not after inhaling all of the deadly sock fumes last night. I’m still recovering.”

  The reserve fell away from Lily’s face, and a smile crept up her lips. “I would have thought breathing in the odor of dirty socks was like smelling roses to a shanty boy like you.”

  He stopped. Did she think he was just a regular shanty boy? Surely she could tell he wasn’t an ordinary man. After all, he was boarding in town instead of living at one of the camps.

  Stuart’s expression grew playful. “Yeah. Why don’t you put on your smelly socks and get out there and cut some trees, you tough old shanty boy?”

  For a quarter of a second Connell was tempted to explain who he was. He wouldn’t mind watching her eyes widen in awe when she learned that he was the boss man of three of the area’s largest lumber camps, the oldest son of Kean McCormick, one of the wealthiest lumber barons in central Michigan.

  Instead, he merely tossed her a grin before turning to leave. As much as he’d enjoy impressing Lily Young, he wouldn’t do it that way—not by boasting o
f his importance and wealth.

  If he was going to win her favor, he’d do it like a man.

  But of course he didn’t care about winning her favor.

  Not in the least.

  Chapter

  4

  Lily had to admit, she liked the way Connell McCormick peeked at her over the rims of his spectacles. From his corner spot of the deserted dining room, behind his stacks of books, he pretended to work. But she could feel his gaze upon her, tickling her, making her insides flutter.

  There was something about his intense green eyes and his attempts to hide his obvious fascination with her that warmed her and made her feel womanly in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

  At the last note of Mr. Heller’s lively harmonica tune, Lily clapped, giving the hotel proprietor her biggest smile. “Your music makes me want to get up and dance with you.”

  The husky man ducked his head. In some ways, he was like a simple-minded child in a grown man’s body. He kept mostly to himself in the stable, caring for the animals. Vera hadn’t wanted to talk about the logging accident that had taken her husband’s wits from him, and Lily figured it wasn’t her place to pry.

  The strains of Mr. Heller’s tune drifted away, leaving in its place the harsh plunking of the saloon piano across the street, drunken shouts, distant raucous laughter, and even a slamming door or two. There had already been one enormous fistfight in the middle of the street, and Lily had no doubt there would be many more before the end of the night.

  All of the drinking and carousing served to remind her that she’d made so little progress over the past three days.

  As if sensing the shift in her mood, Vera reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s like this every Saturday night. The boys coming into town from all the camps. All their fighting and wild activities would have their poor mamas in tears if they could see them.”

  Lily took Vera’s offer of comfort gratefully and pressed the woman’s hand back. It was the same in every other lumber town—the Saturday night revelry that preceded the one day a week the shanty boys had off from their hard labor.