Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  Connell’s hand slid to his hunting knife, sheathed under his shirt in the leather scabbard he wore strapped from his shoulder, across his chest, to his waist. He’d never had much time for James Carr, had always figured as long as the man didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t concern himself with what Carr did or didn’t do.

  But something deep inside told him Carr had overstepped the parameter this time—in a big way.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Carr?” Vera rested her fists on her wide hips, glaring at the man as if she’d like to cut him up and serve him for supper. Mr. Heller had come in from the stable and stood behind his wife.

  “It seems to me there was a misunderstanding down at the train station.” Carr’s voice was much too soft for a man of his six-foot height.

  Stuart hunched over, stared at his plate, and stuffed spoonful after spoonful of beans into his mouth.

  Carr pinned his stare upon Frankie. “And I’ve come to collect my newest employee.”

  Lily slipped off her bench and stood at her tallest. “Look, mister.” She glared at Carr. “I don’t know what kind of evil has possession of you. But you won’t be taking Frankie out of here except over my dead body.”

  Stuart choked.

  Connell fought back a grin. The situation was too dangerous for him to find even the slightest humor in it. But still he couldn’t keep himself from wanting to smile—especially at the fact that Lily had been the first to stand up to Carr.

  He should have realized she’d have no problem confronting the man and saying her piece.

  Carr sized up Lily like he was calculating how much money he could make off her young flesh, and his gaze lingered on her face almost as if he recognized her.

  Any humor Connell may have found in the situation evaporated like steam rising from a pot on a sub-zero day. Cold anger propelled him off his bench.

  Carr’s boots tapped increasingly louder as he crossed the room toward Lily. “Seems to me you’re getting yourself involved in something that isn’t any of your business.”

  “I’ve made it my business.” Lily didn’t flinch. “And I aim to keep doing the best I can to rescue helpless victims from tyrants like you.”

  Connell slipped his hand underneath his shirt and unsheathed his knife. If Carr tried to touch Lily—if he threatened her in the least—he’d give the man a scar to boast about.

  Vera pulled her wooden spoon from her apron pocket, apparently unwilling to allow Carr to threaten Lily either. “Mr. Carr, if your mama knew what you were up to here in Harrison, she’d drown in her tears.”

  “Well, then it’s a good thing she’s already dead, isn’t it?”

  “Now, you go on and get yourself out of here and don’t come back.” Vera waggled the spoon in front of Carr’s face. Mr. Heller backed away, his eyes wide and childlike.

  “I’ll be on my way just as soon as I get what’s mine.” He crooked one of his fingers at Frankie, giving her a wide view of the brass knuckles running the width of his hand.

  She shriveled like a little girl being bullied on a school playground.

  Lily slipped an arm around the girl’s waist. “Frankie’s not yours. She never was, and she never will be.”

  “I paid for her train fare here.” Carr’s voice was frighteningly calm. “She’s mine until she works it off.”

  “I’ll pay for her fare.”

  Frankie glanced at Lily with surprise.

  Carr’s lips moved up into a smirk. But there was something dark, almost deadly in his expression that told Connell loud and clear the man wasn’t playing a game.

  “How much does she owe you?” Lily asked.

  “Like I said, it’s none of your business.” Carr reached for the girl.

  Lily jerked Frankie back. “And like I said, I’m paying her bill.”

  “And just how are you planning to do that?” Carr eyed Lily again in a way that made Connell’s insides harden into ice.

  “Don’t worry. It might take me some time to get the money. But I will.”

  “I suppose you could come up to the Stockade in place of Frankie and work off her debt.”

  Vera gasped and Frankie followed suit.

  Connell shook his head, disgust rolling through his gut. “That’s enough, Carr.”

  Carr glanced at him, as if seeing him for the first time. His gaze flickered to Connell’s side, to the knife partially hidden in his palm.

  “Connell McCormick,” Carr said softly, moving his hand to his waist and pushing aside his town coat, revealing the dark curved grip of his Colt. “I didn’t take you for the kind of man who sticks his nose into problems that aren’t his.”

  “I don’t.” Connell wasn’t worried about Carr’s pistol. With the fifteen feet between them, Connell calculated he could throw his knife into Carr’s arm at least two seconds before the man could get the gun out of his holster.

  “Then butt out of this, McCormick.” Carr turned his attention back to Lily.

  Connell fingered the dull edge of his knife. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy of Carr, not when Carr could easily stir up trouble against him and his lumber camps. And with the warm weather causing a setback in production over the past few days, he didn’t need any more trouble than he already had.

  Carr took another step toward Lily. “I think I’d rather have you over Frankie anyway. With your looks, you’d earn me a fortune.” He perused Lily’s graceful cheeks too long. And when he raised his hand to finger her smooth skin, Connell’s entire body revolted.

  “You touch her and you’ll find my knife in your hand.” Out of instinct and years of practice, he’d lifted his knife and cocked it into throwing position. His muscles twitched, and he took aim, finding the center spot of Carr’s hand, the place where his knife could penetrate the deepest.

  Every eye in the room swung to the bright point of the blade.

  “And don’t worry,” Connell said without taking his sight off the half-inch circle he’d mentally drawn on Carr’s hand. “I never miss my target.” At least he hadn’t missed in the many years since Dad had forced him to perfect his aim.

  Slowly Carr lowered his hand. “I told you to stay out of this, McCormick. This isn’t your problem.”

  “Guess it became my problem—and the problem of everyone else in this town—when you decided you’d start making slaves of innocent young girls.”

  “You know as well as I do that my business is a necessity. The shanty boys wouldn’t stick around if we didn’t meet their needs.”

  Connell didn’t want to admit Carr was right. He wanted to think that if there weren’t any taverns or illicit houses, the boys would still come north to work in the camps. But experience and statistics had shown that the camps were able to retain a larger work force when the boys were kept happy.

  “I say let the boys go and good riddance,” Lily muttered.

  That was easy for her to say. But McCormick Lumber couldn’t lose workers and expect to keep up with the other lumber companies in the area. “Listen, Carr. All we ask is that you stop bringing girls up to Harrison with the false advertising.”

  “That’s not all I’m asking,” Lily said quickly.

  Carr glanced from Connell’s raised knife to Frankie and then back, as if weighing whether he had enough time to grab her as a human shield and make his way out.

  “And,” Connell rushed, “I’ll pay Frankie’s train fee today. You send one of your men down to my office, and I’ll give him cash.”

  “Well now.” Lily turned wide eyes upon him. First surprise, then admiration flickered to life. “That’s a very kind thing for you to do.”

  He nodded. “It’s the least I can do for her.”

  Vera lowered her wooden spoon. “And Frankie can help out around the hotel here until a more permanent arrangement can be made for her.”

  Lily smiled, and the brightness of it lit up the room. She gave Frankie an excited squeeze. Then she threw her arms around Vera and hugged her. “You’re a dear.”

&nbs
p; For an instant, Connell reveled in the fact he’d not only made Lily happy, but that he’d stood up to Carr and won. Surely now everything would work out the way it should.

  But then his gaze collided with Carr’s. The edge in the man’s eyes was sharp enough to chop through the hardest of wood.

  It sliced into Connell’s confidence, and the air swooshed out of him.

  “I suppose if you’re going to meddle in my business, McCormick, that gives me the right to meddle in yours.” He didn’t wait for Connell’s reply. Instead, he crossed the room, shoved open the door, and stalked out, letting the door slam behind him.

  The bang reverberated through Connell, and he stared out the window as Carr stepped into the street.

  Maybe Connell hadn’t won after all. He had the sick feeling he’d just made a huge mistake. But he refused to let himself calculate the percentage of men who had made an enemy of James Carr and lived to tell about it.

  Chapter

  8

  Lily squelched the disappointment that had plagued her all day.

  The feeling was unreasonable, she chided herself.

  She tucked the tripod under one arm and hooked the bag of dry plates on her other. A glance over the sleigh told her she’d gotten everything.

  With a sigh, she started across the yard in back of the hotel. The stable and outhouse sat a distance away from the main building, and several long clotheslines spanned the expanse. A lone pair of wool socks flapped in the growing darkness of the late afternoon.

  The fresh breeze whipped at her hair with a sting that made her shiver and reminded her that even though the temperatures had been unseasonably warm that week, it was still winter.

  She hated to admit how much she’d been hoping she and Oren would end up at one of Connell’s lumber camps for their second Sunday of picture taking.

  Throughout the day, her gaze had inadvertently strayed, and she’d searched for him even though she’d tried not to. When at last they’d packed up their equipment, she’d given up hope he’d make an appearance as he had the first week.

  It was silly to expect him to be at every lumber camp. But nevertheless, she’d surprised herself with how much she’d wanted him to be there today.

  She hoisted the equipment bag higher on her arm. The warm light from the pantry door at the back of the kitchen beckoned her.

  Of course, she’d only wanted to see him to tell him she was glad he’d done the right thing by confronting James Carr and helping bail Frankie out of trouble. That was it. After all, it was past time for him to start taking a stand against the evil that plagued the town.

  She stepped onto the wooden plank that led into the pantry and pushed open the door with her hip.

  The tangy scent of overripe apples wafted over her, along with the stinging bite of onions that had gone to seed. A glance down the cellar steps revealed the dim light from Oren’s oil lantern against the dampness of the small underground cavern that he’d converted into his darkroom.

  “There you are,” Vera called from the kitchen. “Hurry up now and come get some dinner before it gets cold.”

  Lily deposited the camera equipment at the top of the stairs and then made her way past the crates that lined the floor, dodging a mound of dirty bed linens awaiting washday. She reached the doorway of the kitchen and stretched onto her tiptoes to peer beyond Vera’s bulky form through the opposite door into the dining room.

  “Any snow yet?” Vera asked. “My left foot hurts. That always means snow.”

  “Oh, of course there’s no snow.” Lily’s gaze swept the eating area. “Your foot must be lying to you. It’s been another gorgeous day.”

  She was only looking for Frankie, she told herself. She most certainly wasn’t trying to see if Connell was already at his corner spot busy with his ledgers. But when she caught sight of his blond head and the unruly strand that fell across his forehead, her heart dipped with expectancy.

  If she sat in her usual place, she’d leave him no choice but to sneak peeks at her while he attempted in vain to continue working. A ready smile touched her lips. She enjoyed watching him pretend he was laboring over his books when she knew very well he wasn’t.

  Vera stepped away from the smoking stove and raised an eyebrow at her.

  Lily pulled back. “So how’d Frankie do today?”

  Vera’s other eyebrow quirked. “I thought Frankie was with you.”

  “Of course not.” Lily eyed the dining room again and the assortment of men seated around the tables, but she didn’t catch sight of Frankie. An odd, feathery worry tickled her insides. “I told you we were leaving Frankie here. It would cause too much trouble to take her into the camp with us.”

  Vera pushed a pan of half-browned potatoes to the back of the stove, away from the heat. The lines in her face tightened. “I haven’t seen her all day. So I thought you changed your mind and took her with you.”

  Lily’s heart clattered to a stop. Had Frankie stayed in their room all day? Maybe she’d been too scared to come out by herself.

  But even as Lily clomped through the kitchen and dining room and made her way up to the room she had gladly shared with the young girl, the tickle of worry turned into a twist of dread. Over the past two days, Frankie had proven herself to be a hard worker, jumping in and helping Vera with any chores that needed doing.

  In fact, Lily had been secretly hoping the Hellers would decide to keep Frankie there, give her employment, and make her into the child they’d never had. If they didn’t, she knew Molly May down in Midland would take her. But she’d wanted her rescue efforts to benefit both the Hellers and Frankie.

  Lily did a quick search of her room. Frankie’s carpetbag was there and her personal items still neatly arranged among the disarray of Lily’s belongings.

  After scouring the hotel from top to bottom, the yard, stable, and every possible corner and closet, Lily finally returned to the kitchen.

  “I can’t find her anywhere.” Panic had begun to stiffen each muscle in her body. “And nobody has seen her all day.”

  Vera paused above a tub of murky water, a tin plate in one hand and a greasy rag in the other. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Bad feeling about what?” Connell strode into the kitchen, his dirty dishes stacked into a perfect pyramid. He looked from Vera to her. And the concern that radiated from his eyes calmed the wild pattering of her heart.

  “Frankie disappeared.” Maybe Connell would be able to help her find the girl.

  His brow furrowed. “Did anyone see James Carr around here today?”

  Lily recoiled at the mention of the man’s name. “You don’t think Carr came back to get her? Not after you paid him?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past the man.”

  Vera shook the water off the plate in her hand and added it to the stack that had already received a dunking in the dishpan. “I didn’t see Mr. Carr, but I had to give Jimmy Neil a good scolding this morning for showing up in the dining room half drunk.”

  Lily held in a shudder at the thought that Jimmy had dared to step foot inside the Northern Hotel. What reason could he have had for coming back?

  Connell crossed the kitchen and dumped his dishes into the washtub. They sank past pork chunks, soggy bread crusts, and a scattering of half-smashed beans.

  “I hate to say it,” Connell said, “but I’m betting Carr came back and took what he thought was his.”

  When he lifted his eyes to hers, the regret she saw did nothing to reassure her. He wasn’t planning to give in to Carr, was he? Not now. Not after they’d already stood their ground. “If you think Carr has her, then we best be on our way up to the Stockade to get her back.”

  Connell folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the tall worktable covered with piles of slimy apple peels. “We can’t just march up there and get her back, Lily. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “If Carr kidnapped her and is forcing her to prostitute herself against her wishes, then you better be
lieve we can demand he let her go free. We’ll get help from the sheriff—”

  “Not in this town, you won’t.” Vera wiped her chafed hands on a soggy gray towel. “Mr. Carr has the sheriff tucked away in the itty-bitty pocket of his fancy coat.”

  “Vera’s right,” Connell said. “We won’t get any help from the law. In fact, there’s probably not much anyone could do to make Carr release Frankie.”

  “Well, we’ve got to at least try. Right?”

  Vera’s shoulders slumped. And Connell didn’t say anything.

  “You’re not scared to go up there, are you?” Lily asked, frustration creeping in and tingeing her voice.

  “Of course I’m not scared,” Connell retorted. “But I can’t chance hurting McCormick Lumber any more than I already have.”

  Disappointment wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. Apparently, if anyone was going to do something, she’d have to be the one to do it.

  “I guess I’m left with only one option.” She spun out of the kitchen into the pantry. “I’ll have to be the one to go and get her.” She stomped toward the back door and banged it open.

  As she rushed outside, a gust of wind slapped her cheeks.

  “Where are you going?” Connell caught the door before it slammed shut, and he followed her outside.

  A hill of dark clouds had pushed in with the growing darkness. She pulled her coat tighter and started toward the front of the hotel, trying to ignore the long shadows of the evening that reached out to haunt her. “I’m heading to the Stockade to see if Frankie’s there.”

  “You can’t go up there by yourself,” he called after her.

  “I’m certain God would want me to do whatever I can to rescue the girl, even if it means going by myself.” She picked up her pace, and her boots sloshed through the muddy snow that remained after the past week.

  She made it only a half a dozen more steps before Connell’s hand gripped her upper arm and dragged her to a stop. “I won’t let you go.” He spun her around so that she had no choice but to face him.

  “How dare you? What right do you have to stop me?” She jerked her arm and tried to break away.