Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  Alex squeezed her hand. “That’s the way. Keep smiling, and you’ll do fine.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Stop thanking me.”

  This time it was Kate who rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, he’d managed to ease her apprehension enough for her to make an entry into a hotel that was at least a hundred times more classy than she with more aplomb than she’d anticipated. She wasn’t even embarrassed when Alex pointed out the ladies’ room.

  “Here,” he said, pressing a coin in her palm. “If there’s an attendant, give that to her.”

  An attendant? Holy cow, fancy ladies didn’t really need help peeing, did they? Kate didn’t ask. She did accept the coin, considered thanking him, decided not to, and went into the ladies’ room. As she’d feared, she looked like the wrath of God. But a little soap and water, and another stab at her hair and hat, and she guessed she’d do all right.

  In spite of the glamorous surroundings, which took more than a little getting used to, the meal was better than any other Kate had ever eaten; it was even tastier than breakfast had been. Alex watched over her like a mother hen, forcing her to eat her salad and most of her beef Stroganoff, which she’d never heard of before, but which tasted delicious. Alex told her that some grand duke in Russia had invented it, and Kate was impressed. She, Kate Finney, was eating something with a better pedigree than her own. It was kind of funny, really, but when she told Alex, he didn’t seem amused.

  “Stop talking about yourself like that,” he said sternly.

  She lifted her head and gawked at him. “Like what?”

  “Like that. You’re always disparaging yourself, and I want you to stop it. Starting now.”

  She chewed on a piece of the butteriest, most marvelous dinner role in the world and stared at him. After she’d swallowed, she said, “Hey, Alex, you’re the one who first said I was no good, remember?”

  His glare was quite good. Made him look formidable or something. With more practice, he’d be able to intimidate people with more than his wealth. “I did not say you were no good. I said we didn’t want disturbances like the one your father caused at the World’s Columbian Exposition. That wasn’t your fault, as you were quick to inform me.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. You did. Several times. And, whether it was your fault or not, we still don’t want disturbances like that at the Exposition. The Exposition is meant to be a showcase of American ingenuity, spirit, and know-how. It’s supposed to exhibit the very best in America, and I’m afraid that incident directly contradicted the fair’s purpose.”

  “I guess it did.” She grinned at him. “I was really scared of you, you know.”

  His eyebrows arched like rainbows above his really quite pretty green eyes. “I don’t believe it for a minute. You stood your ground like General Lee at Appomattox.”

  Kate forked up a piece of beef and a noodle. “I thought Appomattox was where Lee surrendered to Grant.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Educated wench, aren’t you?”

  Kate grinned some more. “Surprised?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  Kate tried to be indignant, but couldn’t work up a good head of steam. She wasn’t surprised that Alex hadn’t expected her to have any schooling. She guessed she did act kind of like a hellion sometimes. Oh, very well, most of the time.

  “Did you go to school in town here?”

  She guessed the look she gave him was pretty sour, but she couldn’t help it. “Where the heck else would I go? Some boarding school in France? The nuns run a school for poor kids in my neighborhood.”

  “Ah. The nuns. You’re Catholic?”

  He said the word as if he didn’t like it much. “Yeah. You got something against Catholics?”

  “Of course not.”

  She didn’t believe him. She also didn’t blame him, although she hated herself for the prejudice.

  As with everything else amiss in her life, she blamed her opinions about the religion of her forebears on her father. The Holy Roman Church wouldn’t allow a woman to divorce anyone even as evil as Herbert Finney. Not only that, but every time he went crazy and hurt her mother, he claimed the Bible told him such actions were justified because a wife was the property of her husband, and the priest said there was nothing her mother could or should do to stop him. He also said that her father should stop beating up on her mother, but her father never bothered to listen to that part.

  Kate knew she shouldn’t hold Catholicism responsible for her father’s reprehensible actions, but she couldn’t help it. “Shoot, Alex, I’m Irish. We’re pretty much all Catholic. More or less.”

  “I see. And do you attend church regularly?”

  She shrugged. “I go with Ma when she’s up to it. I don’t go on my own.” Lifting her chin and giving him a scowl of defiance, she added, “I don’t believe in that stuff. I think the church is wrong about a whole lot of things.”

  “My goodness.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Don’t climb onto that high horse you’re so fond of, Kate. I’m not laughing at you.” He hesitated for a moment. “Ah, do you mind my asking you how old you are?”

  “Why?” She tried to fight it, but Kate felt suspicion inching its way up her spine.

  “Because you act like you’re a hundred and ten more often than not.”

  If her mouth hadn’t been full of sour-cream sauce and noodles, it might have fallen open in shock. Before she could swallow and respond to his outrageous allegation, he went on.

  “I suspect your life has aged you quickly, and you don’t look very old, but you must know that most young women your age aren’t supporting their parents. It usually works the other way around.”

  “Maybe where you come from.” Darn it, she was on the defensive again. For a few minutes there, they’d actually been communicating like—like friends, or something.

  Alex heaved a big sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I’d still like to know your age. I understand it’s an impertinent question and that gentlemen aren’t supposed to ask ladies such things, but I’m curious. You have to bear so much responsibility.”

  “I’m twenty-five,” Kate said, lying.

  “Really? You don’t look that old.”

  “Bother. You’re a real pain, Alex English. Did you know that?”

  He only grinned.

  “Oh, all right, I’m twenty-two. Turned twenty-two last November.” She scowled at him defiantly. “Happy now?”

  “Relatively. In case you wondered, I’m going to be thirty on my next birthday.”

  “Shoot, really? You don’t look that old.”

  His grin vanished, and his frown looked pretty serious.

  “Oh, heck, Alex, you know what I mean.”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

  “Nuts.” She flung out a hand. It was the first spontaneous gesture she’d made since entering the Congress. “Most men in my neighborhood are dead before they’re thirty. Or roaring drunks.”

  “Good Gad.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the truth. I don’t like it, either.”

  His expression softened. “Are you worried about your brothers, Kate? Do either of them seem inclined to take strong drink?”

  Strong drink? Kate had never met anyone who used words so nicely. In her neighborhood, booze was booze. “No. I think our father cured us of any inclination toward the booze.” She grinned. “And I threatened them with an awful death if either one of them so much as looked at a whiskey bottle.”

  “Good.”

  Her grin vanished and she eyed him sharply. “My brothers are both good men, Alex. I guess you think they don’t do enough for Ma, but they do what they can. Walter works two jobs, and he wants to get married. He’s been putting it off for a couple of years now, because Ma’s been so sick.”

  “He must have a very understanding fiancé,” Alex said dryly.

  “Don’t sound so sarcastic, darn it. He does. She’s a very nice
person. I grew up with her.”

  “Ah. And does she work as a fortune teller, too?”

  “Darn you.” If they weren’t in a fancy restaurant, Kate might have thrown a noodle at him. “No. She works at Wanamaker’s as a ladies’ wear clerk. I make a lot more money than she does, but she doesn’t have my—” She broke off abruptly.

  “She doesn’t have your what?”

  She’d been going to say “guts,” but guessed that might give Alex too much ammunition. “She doesn’t have my responsibilities. Her father is a nice man, and he supports his family.”

  “Ah, I see. That makes sense.” His expression seemed strange to Kate, although she didn’t know exactly why. “You’re an unusual young woman, Kate Finney.”

  “By unusual, do you mean weird, Alex English?”

  He grinned, making Kate’s heart do strange, leapy things in her chest. He had a heck of a grin. He didn’t look at all stuffy when he grinned. “No. I don’t mean weird. I mean unusual. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  She frowned at her carrots. “I’ll just bet.”

  “That wasn’t an insult.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t quite believe him, but she wanted to. She really, truly wanted to.

  # # #

  Kate had a quivery feeling in her middle as Alex’s coach approached her neighborhood. Although she knew she was being not merely silly, but totally impractical, not to say insane, she had a mad urge to leap from the carriage and run home so he wouldn’t see the dump she lived in.

  Reminding herself that she was as good as anyone, even though she didn’t feel like it more often than she did, and also that her circumstances weren’t her fault and that she was doing her very best to better them, she still felt bad about Alex witnessing this God-awful part of town. Garbage lay everywhere. Sanitation was a laugh. Ladies of the night paraded their wares. Drunken men shouted and laughed. Dirty, half-naked children played on stoops. The whole area was characterized by filth, poverty, and desperation, and Kate wanted out so badly, she could taste the longing every time she came home. She was glad for the dark of night, because the neighborhood was even uglier with the sun shining on it.

  That was one of the main reasons she loved working at the World’s Columbian Exposition. Everything there was clean and tidy. It was the only place in Kate’s whole life where everything worked the way it was supposed to work. Even her.

  She wasn’t there now, however, and the carriage was rapidly approaching her little corner of the world. Kate sometimes thought of her tiny apartment as a refuge in a storm-tossed sea. It might be small, and it might be falling apart in spots, but she kept it clean, and nobody bothered her there. And that, as she well knew, would last for as long as her father remained in ignorance of her address. The mere thought of her father made her lift her hand and finger the fading bruises on her throat. With luck, he was still locked up. Kate wished she believed in luck.

  Girding her loins, so to speak, she said, “We’re not too far away now. It’s just down this street and to the left.”

  Alex grunted something, and Kate shot him a glance. As she’d expected, he was glaring out the window, looking as if he disapproved of everything he saw. What the heck. She didn’t approve of it, either. She didn’t say anything. After another few seconds, she muttered, “It’s that big gray building over there. The one with the sign painted on the window. The butcher’s shop.” It might smell bad, but Kate would be forever grateful to the old German couple who allowed her to rent the room over their shop. The Schneiders were nice folks.

  Without a word to Kate, Alex leaned out the window and gave a command to his driver. The coach pulled up to the curb in front of Schneiders Meats. With a sigh, Kate prepared to climb down from the high life and reenter her own low place in the universe.

  “I’ll see you to your door.” Alex’s voice was gruff.

  “You don’t have to do that. I know the way.”

  “Stop being stubborn, dash it! I’m going to see you to your door.” He pushed the door open, flipped down the stairs and reached for Kate’s arm.

  She allowed him to help her down. Why not? It was kind of fun being treated like a lady for once. “Thank you.”

  As if the words were pushing past his restraint, Alex snapped, “Stop thanking me! Dash it, I can’t even imagine you living in a place like this.”

  The words hit her like a slap across the face. Stiffening, Kate snapped back, “It’s better than where I came from.”

  “Good Gad.”

  Before she could wrench herself away from him and dash up the stairs, humiliation burning inside her, a loud roar made Kate stop in her tracks. “Oh, God, no!”

  Alex tightened his grip on her arm. “What is it?”

  As if life weren’t hard enough already. Kate’s heart sank into her resoled shoes. In a voice shaking with rage and shame, she said, “It’s my father.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alex whirled around, putting Kate behind him, and saw a huge, barrel of a man heading straight at him, his head lowered, as if he intended to ram Alex in the stomach like a bull. “Good Gad.”

  “Oh, Lord, Alex, please don’t let him hurt you!”

  “Hurt me?” The remark wounded Alex in a sensitive place: his pride.

  “He’s a monster,” Kate cried. She’d started tugging on his coat sleeve, trying to get him to run away.

  Alex would be damned before he’d run away from this lout. “Don’t be absurd,” he barked. “Stay here.” Yanking Kate’s hand away from his arm, he straightened and stepped away from her, hoping her maddened father would aim for him instead of her. His ploy worked.

  With a roar of fury, Mr. Finney lurched toward Alex. Alex, who had plenty of experience in felling animals bigger and heavier than himself, stepped nimbly aside as the charging bull of a man reached him, whipped his arm out and up, thereby catching the other man around the throat, and felling him. Mr. Finney hit the pavement with a thud that rattled the Schneiders’ front window.

  Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Alex stared down at Mr. Finney, who lay there, his sides heaving, looking confused and in pain. Alex glimpsed Kate from the corner of his eye, pressed against the butcher shop window, her hands pressing her cheeks, her eyes huge. He turned to her. “Are you all right, Kate?”

  “Me? Am I all right?” She gaped at him.

  She had such beautiful eyes. If Alex weren’t otherwise occupied, he’d have been happy to stare into them for several hours. Under the circumstances, her evident inability to understand his question annoyed him. “Yes! Are you all right. For God’s sake, this man is twice your size!”

  “I know.” He heard Kate gulp. “I’m okay.”

  Alex hadn’t experienced violent urges very often in his life. He understood now, as he had never done before, that this was a product of his privileged life and background. He felt extremely violent at the moment. It was all he could do not to pick Kate’s father up by the scruff of his neck and beat him to death.

  Kate took a tentative step toward him. Alex snapped, “Stay back. I don’t know what this animal is going to do next.”

  “He’s going to try to kill somebody,” Kate said in a shaky voice. “Probably you. Then me.”

  “Damnation.” The word, coming out of his own mouth, shocked Alex. He shook himself. No matter how bad circumstances were, profanity was no answer. “We’ve got to do something with him, then.”

  “What?”

  Alex shot Kate a frown. “There’s no need to sound so hopeless, Kate. We only need to think for a bit.”

  He hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering until the murmurs and exclamations finally penetrated his concentration. Glancing around, he saw a mob of faces, all looking on with varying degrees of fascination, outrage, and relief. He heard somebody say, “About time somebody leveled that ox,” and took heart. Evidently, the crowd wasn’t going to lynch him for leveling one of their own.

  Since they se
emed to be on his side in this issue, Alex decided to press his luck. “Does anybody have a suggestion what to do with him now?”

  “Shoot him?”

  This suggestion, offered by a toothless man who grinned down at Herbert Finney, prompted laughter from the crowd.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Alex told him, “but I don’t think the police would like it.”

  Mr. Finney, gaining strength, muttered a profanity and started climbing to his feet. He’d made it to his hands and knees when a young man in the crowd stepped forward and whacked him with the lunch pail he carried. Mr. Finney collapsed again.

  “Thanks, Benny.”

  Alex turned to find Kate smiling feebly at the young man with the lunch pail. The boy couldn’t be any older the Alex’s sister.

  “Sure thing, Kate,” said the boy Alex assumed was Benny. Benny looked from Mr. Finney to Alex. “Why don’t go and try to round up a policeman.”

  Alex contemplated the problem. “Do you think it’ll do any good? I was under the impression the police don’t take much of an interest in Mr. Finney and his family.”

  “They don’t,” said Benny in a matter-of-fact voice, “but they wouldn’t like it that Finney tried to hurt a swell.”

  From the murmurs of approval that went up from the mob, Alex realized they all agreed with Benny. “That’s terrible,” he growled.

  Benny shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s true.”

  “Good Gad.” There was no time to worry about the inequities of Chicago law enforcement, since Mr. Finney was beginning to make challenging grunts from the sidewalk. Alex gave himself a short mental shake and barked, “Anybody have a belt or some rope?”

  The men standing around exchanged glances. A woman, quicker to understand Alex’s intent than her male companions, jerked forward, untying the scarf wound around her neck as she did so. “Here, you can use my scarf.”

  “No, Rose,” Kate said, causing Alex to whip his head her way. She took a shaky step toward him. “Use this, Alex.” She took a black ribbon out of her handbag. Alex recognized it as the one that encircled her neck during her dance performance; the one she used to hide the bruises this same man had inflicted days earlier.