by Regina Scott
“Well?” demanded a short, scrawny fellow with hair nearly as red as hers. “Why are we all here? Who’s organizing this?”
Michael stepped to the front. “I am. I’m Michael Haggerty, newly come to your shores, but I can see trouble brewing.”
Shouts of “Aye!” and “Too true” rose around him, like some of Maddie’s fiery cinnamon thrown into the air.
“Some of you have been robbed,” Michael continued. “Others have had property destroyed or defaced. I asked you here today so we can begin to understand why.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” someone yelled. “It’s all because we’re Irish!”
Voices growled in angry agreement. As Michael raised his hands and called for quiet, he saw Deputy McCormick stroll up to the back of the crowd. The men standing there took one look at him and gave him wide berth.
“Right now, all we know is that Irish businesses have been affected,” Michael told them. “Many of us have faced hostility in other places. But that doesn’t mean we’re facing it here.”
“Are you mad, man?” A broad-chested fellow in plaid trousers pushed himself forward. “My store’s been robbed twice. There’s a giant shamrock on my door!”
Patrick wound his way through the crowd to join Michael at the front, nodding his support before turning to face the crowd. “Shamrocks aren’t a sign of anger. They’re a sign of Ireland.”
“Well, this one’s on fire,” someone else called out, pointing to the sign on Maddie’s bakery. “That’s a threat.”
Once more voices exploded in debate. From what Michael could hear, some argued that it had been a mistake, only to be shouted down as fools. Others called for vengeance. Deputy McCormick’s steely eyes narrowed.
“This could turn ugly,” Patrick murmured to Michael. “We have to take the lead, Michael, help them see the path.”
Just then, the gate from the yard creaked open, and Maddie strolled into their midst, platter of cookies held in her hands. She still wore her church dress, and the russet color brought out the copper of her hair. Voices quieted, men stood taller, pulled off hats, adjusted ties or coats. Maddie’s smile embraced them all.
“Well?” she challenged as she came to stand beside Michael and Patrick. “Did you come here to argue or did you come here to find a solution to our problem? I’ve cookies for those who want to help and nothing but contempt for the rest.”
Pride raised Michael’s head. He’d said she was what they all fought for—home and family and a prosperous future. Every one of them was gazing at her, and for once he didn’t think it was because of her smile or the icing dripping off her cookies.
But would Maddie’s influence be enough to turn this fearful crowd into a force for good?
Chapter Eighteen
As Maddie gazed out at the sea of faces, some red with anger, others white in concern, she found she cared to know only one person’s opinion of her challenge. Turning, she looked to Michael. He stood still, solemn, but the light shining in his blue eyes said he had never been more proud. Her smile spread.
Around her, deep voices and burly arms raised in support, accepting her call.
“To Ireland and the Irish!” someone shouted, and the cry was taken up by a dozen men.
Maddie felt as if a balloon had inflated inside her, lifting her heart and her head at the same time. She motioned to Ciara and Aiden, who were peering out of the gate wide-eyed, waiting for her as she’d asked. Her brother and sister brought out the rest of the cookies, and the three of them passed among the crowd, offering the goodies to their guests. Soon arms were coming down, smiles were forming and voices were quieting.
“Nicely done, Miss O’Rourke,” Deputy McCormick said as she held out the platter to him. His chiseled features were as tight as usual, so she could not tell how deeply she might have hurt him earlier.
“Better than my previous speech,” she acknowledged. “And I’ll be begging your pardon for my presumptions.”
He nodded and bit into the cookie, mouth turning up at one corner as he chewed, and she knew she was forgiven.
As Ciara and Aiden returned to their spots by the gate, Maddie went to the front to offer Michael the last cookie.
Hand on her shoulder, he bent to put his mouth next to her ear. His breath was like a caress. “Keep it for yourself. You earned it.”
Patrick went so far as to tip his hat to her as she took the cookie and joined Ciara and Aiden at the gate.
“Now that we’re all in agreement, or at least well fed,” Michael said with a smile, “let’s see what we can learn. Sheriff Wyckoff and his deputy have been looking into our troubles. Deputy McCormick, give us a report.”
The deputy made his way to the front. His broad-brimmed black hat shaded his eyes as he turned to look at the other men, as if he thought he needed to protect his face from them. Maddie was just thankful he did not reach for his gun.
“In the last week,” he said, “there have been a total of six robberies in Seattle. Four of those were from Irish businesses.”
The murmurs started again. Maddie glared them into silence, then caught Michael smiling at her and blushed.
“So we are a target,” Patrick said, watching the lawman.
“Businesses are a target,” Deputy McCormick warned him. “Anytime you have more, someone with less is bound to notice.”
She’d certainly seen that lived out in New York. The other men must have realized it too for they shifted, muttering.
“More, he says,” someone scoffed. “Do you call it having more when you can barely put food on your table?”
“Or when you’re in debt?” another demanded.
Michael held up his hand. “We all came to Seattle in hopes of building better lives. No one said we wouldn’t have to struggle first.”
“No one said we wouldn’t face persecution either,” Patrick put in around the deputy to Michael. Then he focused on McCormick. “Can you promise you’ll protect these good people from further harm?”
Deputy McCormick hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “That’s my sworn duty.”
One Maddie was fairly sure he took seriously. Yet despite all his hard work, people had been robbed, had their property damaged.
Patrick waved one hand to the shamrock on the wall. “But you’re not protecting us, are you?” he challenged the deputy. “You come in after the damage is done to catch the criminal. We need help now, to stop the criminals before they act.”
Voices rose again, loud in consensus. Aiden leaned closer to Maddie, brow puckering in concern. Ciara was white, but her gaze was fixed on Patrick.
Michael lifted both hands this time, then took a step forward before everyone quieted.
“I heard of a protective force,” Patrick volunteered, looking at Michael. “The ship owners on the Thames were losing thousands of pounds to theft. When the government would do nothing, they chartered their own police force. We could do that. I’d be proud to lead you.”
Maddie could see Michael frowning, but murmurs ran through the group.
Deputy McCormick stepped toward the crowd. “There’s one law in Seattle, and that’s the county sheriff.”
Maddie thought the men would argue him off his feet the way they rushed toward him, shouting, threatening.
“Enough!” Michael’s voice roared over the din. Once more, he was the warrior prince, head high, shoulders back, determination glowing in his gaze. Around him, men stepped back, closed their mouths, cocked their heads to listen.
“With all due respect, Deputy,” he told the lawman, “there’s no reason we can’t watch our homes and businesses to protect them. We don’t have to hire our own police force,” he added as a few called their support for the idea, “but we can organize a watch. If we see a problem, we can send for you.”
H
eads began nodding like daisies in the breeze, the murmur of voices positive, encouraging. Leave it to Michael to find a logical, peaceable solution. Only Patrick, Maddie noticed, looked less than pleased with his idea.
Even Deputy McCormick snapped a nod. “Just see to it that you call,” he warned. “If you take matters into your own hands, I’ll arrest you too.”
Oh, why did he have to confront people, and just when Michael had quieted them! Visages darkened, fists came up once more. She would not watch Michael’s good work come undone.
She broke away from Ciara and Aiden and marched to the front. “Have a cookie, Deputy,” she said with her best smile, holding the last one out to the lawman. “Sure-n but you need something to sweeten your disposition.”
Chuckles and laughter greeted her comment, and even Deputy McCormick, bless him, managed a smile as he accepted her offering.
Michael raised his voice again. “That settles it, then. If you’ve a mind to help or want your property included on the list for protection, come see me. Otherwise, be watchful and contact the sheriff’s office at first sign of trouble.”
The crowd began to disperse. A few men left. More surged forward to talk to Michael and Patrick. Maddie sent Ciara into the bakery for paper and pencil to write down the names of the volunteers and draw up a map of the properties.
“Your cookies are good enough to soothe the savage beast, Miss O’Rourke,” Patrick said as she held the paper to the fence and wrote what Michael repeated to her.
“Sure-n but it’s hard to be angry with someone when you’re breaking bread together,” Maddie said. “Or, in this case, cookies.”
Patrick chuckled, then left them to their work. He stopped to have a word with Ciara. Though his face remained polite, like that of an uncle or an old family friend, her little sister blushed at his attention. Maddie wasn’t sure whether to remind the girl of the age difference between the two or hope that Ciara would find other things to interest her here in Seattle. Perhaps she should discuss the matter with Michael. He always seemed to know how to handle her sister.
It was nearly dinnertime before the last of their compatriots returned home and Maddie finished making a copy of the list for Deputy McCormick and the sheriff so they knew whom they might meet on their rounds as well as the businesses that were being protected. Because more than a dozen men, including Michael, had signed up to help patrol, the gentlemen had set up two-person teams, rotating members so that every man served no more than once a week. Given the villain’s tendency to strike at night or on a Sunday, the watchmen would concentrate their efforts at those times.
“We’ll be keeping an eye on things,” Deputy McCormick told Michael as the lawman folded the sheets Maddie had given him. “I’ll hold you to your promise to notify us of any trouble.”
“None of us wants to escalate this,” Michael assured him.
Maddie hoped he was right. She could not shake the feeling that someone was determined to start trouble in Seattle. All she could pray was that the precautions Michael had put in place would offer protection while the lawmen worked to catch the culprits.
Standing at the gate, she offered him a smile as the deputy departed. “Sure-n but you did a good thing here today, Michael Haggerty.”
“Sure-n but it might not have turned out so well if it wasn’t for your baking, Maddie O’Rourke,” he countered, returning her smile. Opening the gate for her, he motioned her through. “But I’ll sleep better tonight knowing we have help, and the others will too.”
Maddie linked her arm with his, feeling the strength of him. “I’ll be needing your help before you sleep, sir. With all this talk, I’ve had no time to start dinner much less the mixings for tomorrow morning’s bread.”
He pressed his hand over hers, smile warming. “Anything you want. But who knows? Maybe Ciara started something.”
As they stepped into the kitchen, however, it was evident Maddie’s sister had done nothing about dinner. Instead, Ciara stood on the floor of the kitchen, wringing her hands, face white.
“I can’t find Amelia Batterby,” she said, voice catching in a sob. “I think someone let her out, and now the wolves will get her.”
* * *
Michael felt Maddie tense beside him. He very much doubted that someone had purposely let out the cat. With so many people arriving, it would have been easy for Amelia Batterby to slip through the door and out the gate. Still, he didn’t want either of his ladies to worry.
He took Maddie’s hand and gave it a squeeze as he looked to Ciara. “We’ll find her.”
Maddie called for Aiden, and together they scoured the bakery. No little gray cat with a concerned face looked back at them.
Maddie raised her voice. “Miss Amelia Batterby! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Ciara scowled at her. “As if she’d ever come to anything so silly.” She put her hands to her mouth. “Miss Amelia, dear Miss Amelia, come out, come out wherever you are.”
Michael thought a more practical approach might be needed. He reached into the larder and pulled off a bit of ham. “She may not come when she’s called,” he said, bending to wave the salty meat close to the floor, “but she’ll come when she’s hungry.”
“But that could be days!” Ciara protested. “I tell you, she’s outside, in the rain and cold.”
Maddie frowned at her. “Did you open the door while Michael and I were out at the gate?”
Ciara pulled away, head coming up. “Why would I do that? I’m supposed to watch Aiden, remember?”
“Then why are you so sure she’s outside?” Michael asked, straightening.
Ciara threw up her hands. “Because I can’t find her inside! For all I know, you let her out when you came back in, the two of you were so lovey-dovey.”
For someone who had encouraged Michael and Maddie to make a match, she seemed rather annoyed with the idea now. Was it only the loss of the cat that concerned the girl?
Aiden, who had been looking under the worktable, made a face as he straightened. “She’s probably hiding. Ciara wouldn’t let her eat.”
“Because you tried to feed her a piece of cake!” Ciara accused him. “I told you she wouldn’t like icing.”
“Never mind that now,” Michael said. “The important thing is to find her. We’ll check outside.”
Keeping his smile pleasant and his tone encouraging, he led them out to the rear yard. Again, they searched, calling her name, promising treats. Aiden even leaned under the chicken coop, coming out speckled with grime and dotted with feathers.
Maddie grew more quiet and tight with each step. “I should have kept an eye out for her,” she murmured to Michael. “I was so busy handing out cookies I didn’t watch my feet.”
Ciara must have heard her, for she shook a finger at Maddie. “You had to show off for those men!”
Maddie drew in a breath as if to keep from shouting back, but Michael had had enough. “Pipe down, Ciara. Your sister was doing her best to stop a riot in your own backyard.”
Instead of deflating as she usually did when challenged, Ciara put her hands on her hips and glared at Michael. “Well, there wouldn’t have been a riot in our backyard if you hadn’t invited all those men to begin with.”
“That’s enough,” Maddie said before Michael could answer. “There are bigger things happening here than you understand, Ciara, and I’ll thank you to stop complaining about it.”
“I understand,” Ciara insisted, eyes narrowing. “People hate us because we’re Irish. We need someone to protect us. We could have had our own policemen, and you and Michael refused. You’re the one who doesn’t understand!”
Aiden, who had been poking behind the washtubs, came to join them, face pinched. “Could you please stop fighting so we can find Amelia Batterby? She’s probably scared.”
Michael thought the c
at wasn’t the only one scared. Aiden’s look and Ciara’s outburst proved they knew enough about their circumstances to fear. Their earlier heartbreak must have made them wonder whether the adults around them could protect them from further harm. They loved the little gray cat and were genuinely worried about her, but they needed to find her alive for their own peace of mind as well.
“Right you are, Aiden,” Michael said, laying a hand on the boy’s head, the feathers lodged there tickling his palm. “Amelia Batterby is a part of this family. We won’t abandon her.”
“Never,” Maddie agreed. She cast Ciara a glance out of the corners of her eyes. “We stick together, through thick and through thin.”
Ciara did not answer.
Michael glanced around at them. “But you know something? Though we think of Amelia Batterby as family, the truth is that she’s a cat.”
“Shh! Don’t be telling her that,” Maddie murmured, a whisper of a smile returning to her lips.
Michael smiled back. “My point was that we need to think like a cat if we’re to find her. Picture it—suddenly, you’re free, with all of Seattle to explore. Where would you go?”
“To Kelloggs’ for candy,” Aiden said, eyes lighting.
“That’s what you’d do, silly,” Ciara told him. “She’d follow her nose. Down to the shore for fish.”
Maddie nodded. “She might at that.”
Aiden darted toward the gate. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Michael opened the gate for the boy, and Ciara and Aiden hurried ahead. Maddie came more slowly. Michael could almost see the concerns weighing her down.
“She’ll never get over being left behind, will she?” she murmured as she fell into step beside Michael.
He knew she wasn’t talking about the cat. “Ciara and Aiden have had cause for concern, just like all the children who came to Sylvie and me. Most of them had lost parents. Some curled inward, had to be coaxed to smile again. Others lashed out the way Ciara is.”