by Jody Hedlund
But she had fixed her big eyes on Connell. “With as little sun as we’ve had this winter, how can you possibly wish it away?”
“Because we depend upon the ice and snow for production.”
“You would begrudge us all the bright and beautiful sunshine so you can earn a bigger profit?”
Was he destined to clash with this woman on every issue—even something as insignificant as the sunshine? He sighed and handed her the hot cup of coffee.
She took it and wrapped both hands around it. “Not all of us are used to the dreary dark winter days of the north. New York winters weren’t a picnic either, but they were never quite as cold and dark.”
He took a swig of his coffee, savoring the dark roasted flavor.
She blew on hers and took a tiny sip. “Ahh. Now, that’s good coffee.” She gave Duff a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
He beamed at her. But the blackened smoke rising from the skillets drew his attention back to the burning food, and he began flipping faster than before.
“If you dislike Michigan winters so much,” Connell said, “why did you move here? Why didn’t you stay in New York?” At least there she’d be away from wild lumber camps and towns.
The sunshine in her face disappeared. She took a longer drink of coffee before looking at him.
The heartache in her expression socked him in the stomach.
“I wish we could have stayed. Then maybe Daisy wouldn’t have gotten herself into this predicament.” Her voice was soft.
“If you find her, do you think you’ll move back?”
“There’s nothing left for us there. No one who wants us. No one who ever did.”
She spoke so low, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. And he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to the rest of her family and how she had ended up with the cranky old photographer.
“When I find Daisy—not if,” she said, her voice growing louder and ringing with the passion he’d heard before. “When I find her, I’ll never let her go. And I’ll give her the kind of home she deserves—finally.”
He took a slurp of coffee, not quite sure how to answer her. If he did the math, he could come up with the slim percentage she had of finding her sister, especially alive. But he didn’t think she’d be too happy with the statistic.
“I’m old enough now that I’ll be able to get a job and find a place for the two of us,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes, as if somehow she could convince him. “I’ll take care of her. We’ll make it this time.”
He prayed she was right. But he had the gut feeling she was in for far more challenges than she expected.
But who was he to contradict her and discourage her plans? He hardly knew her. In a few short weeks, she’d move on with Oren to another town and Connell would likely never see her again.
And yet, down in the dark depths of her eyes, there was a spark that drew him in, a flicker of loneliness and longing, and it tugged on him, pulling him deeper. . . . And he was afraid now that he’d already stepped into her life, he might not be able to pull himself back out.
Chapter
6
Five taverns down, fifteen to go.
Lily bunched up her skirt and squelched through the thick oozing mud that covered Main Street. The past several days of melting snow had turned the ground into a slimy marsh. But she didn’t mind having to walk through it, as long as the sun continued to shine.
“Do you have time to visit one more this morning?” she asked Stuart, who stomped along next to her, not seeming to mind that his boots and trousers were caked with mud.
“I’m sure I have plenty of time.” The newspaper editor didn’t bother pulling out his pocket watch and instead grinned at her. “And if I don’t, I’ll make it.”
She tried to form her lips into a smile. But she couldn’t quite get them as generous as she wanted. Over the past several days he’d gone out of his way to help her visit taverns and was being awfully nice to her—almost too nice. She didn’t want to encourage him into thinking there was anything more between them than a plain and simple friendship.
“Besides,” he said, “I’ll take any opportunity to get out of the office and enjoy the sunshine and the warm spell we’re having.”
“Well, at least there are two of us enjoying it.” She slid a glance at Connell McCormick, who was standing outside the butcher shop at the end of the street. He was leaning against a post and talking with the butcher, likely working out a delivery of meat to his camps. “There are some people around here who think sunshine is the tool of the devil.”
Stuart followed her gaze.
It hadn’t taken her long to learn that Connell was boss man of not just one camp in the area, but three. He’d proven himself to be a courteous and kind man. But she was disappointed to think that such a decent man would willingly participate in the mass destruction of the timberland. And not only participate, but orchestrate the mindless ruination.
Stuart grinned at Connell and waved.
She flipped her attention away, but not before Connell caught her staring.
“Connell McCormick sees everything in one of two ways,” Stuart explained. “He either looks through the lens of dollar signs or the lens of mathematical symbols.”
“Too bad he can’t wipe off the greed and see things from a better perspective.”
“You mean your perspective?” Stuart’s voice was tinged with laughter.
“I’m only doing what any godly person would—taking a stand against the evil and fighting for what’s right.”
“Speaking of evil.” Stuart touched her elbow, motioning for her to stop. “Here comes Maggie Carr.”
A woman wrapped in a thin lacy shawl was making her way through the muck and heading in the direction of the train depot. The screech of steel brakes and a sharp whistle indicated the Pere Marquette was arriving right on schedule.
“She’s the wife of James Carr, the biggest piece of scum that’s taken up residence in Harrison.”
The woman wore a scarf around her neck and had wrapped it so that it covered her mouth and nose.
“Carr keeps a pack of vicious bloodhounds up at the Stockade.” Stuart inclined his head toward the edge of town. There on a rocky hill stood a wide two-story tavern surrounded by a tall log fence, the ends shaved to frightening points.
Lily stifled a shudder. She’d heard some of the shanty boys talking about the Stockade and boasting that James Carr had the best drinks and girls in all of Michigan. They’d also joked that a night didn’t go by in which an unlucky shanty boy was tossed down the hill beaten and bruised—or worse. They’d called it Dead Man’s Hill and had laughed about it, but she’d decided the Stockade would be the last tavern on her list to visit.
Stuart leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Rumor has it one of Carr’s dogs bit off the tip of Maggie’s nose.”
Lily studied the scarf that concealed Maggie’s face, and this time Lily couldn’t hold back her shudder. The woman had reached the train and stood on the platform in front of the passenger car.
“She’s in charge of Carr’s girls,” Stuart added.
Lily straightened, and her mind began to spin. This might be her chance to ask about Daisy without having to trudge up Dead Man’s Hill and visit the Stockade.
“I’m gonna talk to her.” Without waiting for Stuart, she hefted her skirts higher and sloshed through the mud. The sticky mixture tugged at her boots, trying to pull them off.
The passengers had begun to descend, the usual handful of shanty boys and businessmen. When a young woman stepped out of the passenger car and onto the platform, Lily stopped short.
Stuart bumped into her, his focus riveted on the newcomer too. “What in the name of all that’s good and holy?”
The woman—who upon closer examination, looked more like a girl of fifteen or sixteen—glanced around the depot with wide frightened eyes. She wore a simple faded skirt and a tight coat that looked like it should belong to a girl mu
ch younger.
Maggie Carr wasted no time in approaching the girl, speaking to her.
The young woman braved a small smile.
“What’s the devil’s wife up to now?” Stuart growled, and his eyes narrowed on Maggie.
“Why?” Unease trickled through Lily. “You don’t think she’s recruiting the girl for her brothel, do you?”
“It’s hard to believe a young, sweet-looking girl like that would come up here to work at the Stockade.”
The trickle of unease swelled into a tide. Was it hard to believe? After all, Daisy had willingly done the same thing.
Lily could picture Daisy stepping off the train wherever she’d gone, her cheeks flushed, her hair mussed, her expression uncertain. She must have wondered if she was doing the right thing. She’d surely known Lily wouldn’t approve.
Daisy had probably been just as frightened. Maybe when she’d stood on the train platform, she’d even wished someone would step in and force her to stop before she made a terrible mistake.
“I won’t stand by and let that young girl throw her life away.” Lily started forward with a surge of determination fueled by all the pain that flamed inside her.
“What are you going to do?” Stuart kept pace with her.
“I don’t know.”
He grinned. “Sounds like my kind of plan.”
“You should know my motto is to act first, think later.”
“I think I’m beginning to catch on to that.”
Lily practically ran the rest of the distance down Main Street, not caring that she was splattering mud all over her skirt. By the time she reached the train platform, Maggie had taken the young girl’s flimsy carpetbag and had linked arms with her, as if they were already old friends.
“There you are!” Lily cried breathlessly.
The girl took a quick step back. Her eyes were innocent and frightened, like those of a young girl who’d never traveled outside of her hometown.
Lily smiled at her. “I’ve come to help you.” She sent up a prayer. She needed quick wits and as much heaven-sent help as possible.
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about,” Maggie said in a low muffled voice behind the gauzy red scarf. “But Frankie’s here to work for me.”
“Well now, Frankie,” Lily said in her gentlest tone, “I know you don’t really want to get started into the degrading life of prostitution. No one does. And I can help you.”
“Prostitution?” The girl’s face flamed red. “Oh no, ma’am. I’m here for decent work. Hotel work.”
Maggie’s eyes above the line of the scarf turned cold with calm fury. She yanked on Frankie’s arm. “Come along, sugar.”
“Not so fast.” Lily grabbed on to Frankie’s other arm.
“I ain’t a loose girl,” Frankie rushed to explain. “I’m answering the ad Mr. James Carr placed in the Deerfield newspaper requesting help in his newly built hotel here in Harrison.”
“Ad in the paper?” Stuart’s voice rang with surprise. “What kind of ad?”
The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a ripped section of a newspaper. Maggie lunged for it, but Stuart grabbed it first.
He scanned it, his thin face narrowing into a scowl. “Chambermaids and waitresses needed for the Carr Hotel in Harrison. Room and board provided along with excellent pay.”
“Carr Hotel?” Lily said to Maggie, her voice laced with contempt. “You and your husband ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
Muttering oaths under his breath, Stuart folded the ad and tucked it into his pocket.
Lily patted the girl’s arm. “Don’t you dare go with Maggie Carr here. She’ll lead you straight up that hill there yonder and put you to work bedding shanty boys.”
Frankie followed Lily’s gaze to the Stockade. It stood above the town like an ugly wart on a pockmarked face. The girl took one glance at the place and recoiled.
Maggie tightened her grip on Frankie. “Let’s go, sugar. Don’t pay any attention to these people. I’ve got a nice room for you, plenty of hot food, and a steady income. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Lily tugged on Frankie. “Don’t listen to her. You don’t want to end up dancing in your skimpies every night for shanty boys.”
Horror widened the girl’s eyes and filled every corner of her face. “Oh no, ma’am. Not at all.”
“You’d best come with me, and I’ll make sure you’re kept safe.”
The girl wiggled against Maggie’s grip, trying to break free. Her thin coat stretched at the seams.
But Maggie didn’t let go. “You’re not going anywhere until you work off the price of your train ticket.”
The determination in Maggie’s narrowed eyes said she wouldn’t relinquish her hold of the girl without a fight.
For an instant Lily despaired. How could she protect this young girl short of getting into a tugging match and pulling her into two pieces? The truth was, she was every bit as determined as Maggie to have the girl come with her.
“Now, hold on, Maggie,” Stuart said. “If Carr is using false advertising to get young girls up here to Harrison, promising them work in a hotel when all along he’s planning to enslave them in one of his brothels, then she shouldn’t be held responsible for the price of her ticket, because she didn’t know any better.”
Lily shot him a grateful glance.
At her appreciation, he pulled his skinny body higher. “Now, you let the girl go or I might just have a new front-page story for the paper this week.”
Above the scarlet scarf Maggie’s eyes flitted with uncertainty.
The hesitation was the chance Lily needed. She jerked hard and pulled Frankie loose. The young girl fell against her with a pitiful cry.
Lily wrapped an arm around Frankie’s waist and pulled her into the crook of her body. She didn’t wait to see if Stuart could get Frankie’s bag.
Instead, she propelled the girl off the platform and onto the muddy street, hustling her away from Maggie Carr as fast as she could.
It was only when she chanced a glance over her shoulder that she caught a glimpse of the sharp steel in Maggie’s eyes—the glint said she’d find a way to stab Lily and inflict pain in one way or another. That it was only a matter of time.
Lily pulled Frankie closer. She didn’t care.
With every life she saved from the pit of hell, maybe eventually she’d make up for losing the one life that had mattered the most.
Chapter
7
“I told you James Carr was the devil himself in human flesh.” Vera thumped a bowl of beans onto the dining-room table next to a loaf of steaming bread.
Connell didn’t have the appetite to fill his tin plate for the noon meal he took at the hotel whenever he wasn’t at one of his camps. Not even the yeasty aroma was enough to tempt him. Instead, he glanced at the young girl sitting at the opposite table next to Lily, and his stomach gurgled with a sickening hollowness.
The girl crammed a slice of bread into her mouth as though it would disappear if she didn’t get it in fast enough. Judging by the thinness of her cheeks and boniness of her fingers, it had obviously been a while since she’d had a decent meal.
“Do you think I ought to run the story anyway?” Stuart sat across from him and heaped four large spoonfuls of beans onto the mounds of pork and bread he’d already piled onto his plate.
“Of course you should,” Lily responded, scraping a trail with the tip of her spoon through the scant serving of beans on her plate. “This community needs to hear the truth about what’s going on.”
Vera shook her head, the movement jostling her heat-flushed cheeks. “James Carr is completely despicable. Tricking young innocent girls by putting ads in the newspaper for his so-called hotel.”
“What I want to know is how long he’s been advertising.” Stuart shoveled two bites of his meal into his mouth and seemed to swallow them without chewing. “I’m sure Frankie can’t be the first girl Carr has deceived into working
at his brothels.”
“It doesn’t really matter how long he’s been doing it.” Lily handed Frankie her piece of bread, and the girl took it eagerly. “All that matters is that we’ve discovered his deception. And now we need to find a way to make sure it stops.”
Lily’s eyes sparked like prisms, a brilliance of hot and cold. Her graceful features were sharp with all the earnestness of her heart spilled out, nothing held back, the emotions raw and clear.
For once he couldn’t disagree with her. Carr had gone too far. It was one thing for a girl to choose the harlot’s life. But it was an entirely different matter to be forced into it.
“It’s a shame,” said Stuart between mouthfuls. “The girls who answer Carr’s ad are the upstanding ones, the ones looking for decent jobs. If they’d wanted to join a bawdy house, they didn’t need to come north to do it.”
Connell knew full well Stuart wouldn’t be able to run a story about Carr in the Harrison Herald. And he had the feeling his friend knew it too. Stuart couldn’t print anything detrimental about Carr, not without putting his life in peril.
The door of the hotel opened and slammed against the wall.
Lily and Frankie jumped.
“Speak of the devil,” Vera muttered.
Carr stepped through the doorway, his shiny black boots clicking an ominous rhythm against the plank floor. He swept off his hat and combed his fingers through his immaculately trimmed hair. Dressed as impeccably as always in a town coat, a matching vest, and a bow tie at his throat, he could have passed for a lumber baron.
But there was something about the hard set of his jaw that spoke of a life fraught with danger. The set of brass rings he wore above his knuckles shouted of the violence for which he was known.
The room grew silent, and Frankie shrank against Lily.
Carr’s deep-set eyes went directly to the young ladies like a hound catching scent of its prey. With his forefinger and thumb he twisted the long curl at the end of his well-groomed mustache, and something just as twisted gleamed in his eyes.