Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  The news hit Connell’s gut as painfully as if a log had come loose from the top of a banked pile and crushed his middle. “Then she’s dead?”

  “She died yesterday.”

  Sick guilt added to the weight that pressed against Connell’s gut. They’d waited too long.

  Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The accusing shouts of the men behind them punctuated the air. The discovery of the sawed-off log ends would only add dissension during a time when they all needed to unite against Carr.

  “And what’s worse,” Stuart said, as if things could get any worse, “is that nobody is doing anything about her death. Nobody cares. In their minds, she’s just another worthless prostitute.”

  Connell knew what the majority of townspeople thought—it was the same thing he’d always told himself: What was one more dead prostitute in a community where fighting and beatings and death were a daily occurrence? Why bother trying to change anything when the problems looked insurmountable?

  God was obviously whacking him across the head in His efforts to show him how apathetic and uncaring and fearful he’d been. I get it now, God. He lifted his eyes heavenward. You can stop the lesson anytime.

  If only they could get a little help . . .

  They wouldn’t get any sympathy from the Clare County sheriff, not when the man operated off Carr’s payroll, like most of the county.

  “What about the Midland County sheriff?” Connell asked, trying to renew his quickly fading desire to fight. “What if we were to ask him for help?”

  “He can’t do anything. This isn’t his jurisdiction,” Stuart said. “What we need to do is to elect a new sheriff and a new county prosecutor who will support reform.”

  “I agree. We’ve got to have men who aren’t being paid off by Carr to do his bidding.” But county elections were largely a sham, especially when no one dared to run or vote against Carr’s approved men.

  Even as Connell spoke, Stuart’s face reflected the hopelessness wedged in Connell’s heart. “The only thing I can do is finish fixing up my jobber, write up this story, print it, and get it out to as many people as possible.”

  They’d spent the last few evenings trying to clean up the newspaper office and salvage what they could. They were fortunate that amidst the destruction, the printing press hadn’t been damaged too badly.

  “At least you have enough witnesses that Carr can’t accuse you of libel.”

  “I’m sure he’ll try, but what harm will it do me now?” He grinned, but Connell could see past the false bravado to the fear flitting in Stuart’s eyes.

  “He could break a lot more than your arm this time.”

  “I can’t back down now—not when I’ve been looking for a way to frame him for his crimes. I thought I could nail him on the jail fire. But murder is even better.”

  They would do all they could. But would it ever be enough?

  Stuart rubbed his broken arm, as if thinking the same thing. Then he sighed. “I’d hate to be the one to tell Lily the news about Frankie.”

  A fresh wave of weariness washed over Connell. “I’d hate to be the one too.” But he had a feeling he would have to break the news to her eventually.

  She was going to be devastated.

  And would likely despise him all the more.

  Lily didn’t want to leave Daisy alone for any length of time while she went looking for a job. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her sister, she told herself. It was that she didn’t trust Tierney.

  Even though he’d stayed away the rest of the week—or at least she thought he had—she had the feeling it was only a matter of time before he came back and tried to ensnare Daisy again.

  Lily wanted to make sure they were long gone before that happened.

  With a pattering heart, she stopped on the second-floor landing and listened, every nerve in her body alert for the sound of the two of them together.

  For a second she imagined she heard Daisy’s soft laugh of pleasure, and the unbidden picture of her sister’s passion filled her mind.

  Lily couldn’t keep from thinking about the pleasure she’d found in the brief moments of closeness with Connell. Warmth spread through her stomach.

  She shoved it aside, the shards of embarrassment and guilt slicing through her.

  Who was she to condemn Daisy for taking pleasure in Tierney’s touch when she’d relished each instance with Connell and longed for more?

  She didn’t want to admit she was a hypocrite. After all, she hadn’t allowed Connell to ravish her so intimately. They’d kept their distance even though the attraction had been strong between them. She liked to think she would have stopped him if he’d wanted more from her when they’d been stranded alone during the snowstorm.

  But the truth was, her curiosity and longing always made her lose reason when she was with him. His strong commitment to purity had kept them both from indulging in intimacies they would have later regretted.

  Through the dumbwaiter in the wall of the hallway, she could hear Mrs. McCormick speaking to the maid in the kitchen on the ground floor. Other than the rapid thump of her own heartbeat, she couldn’t hear anything else. The house was silent.

  She bounded up the steps the rest of the way to the third floor. All the way she tried to tell herself she was different from Daisy, that she was strong and pure and virtuous. But with each step, she couldn’t keep from thinking the line that separated her from Daisy was much thinner than she cared to acknowledge.

  At the doorway to their room she paused. Hopefully, they’d have their own place soon, away from the McCormicks. They could both start fresh. Tierney wouldn’t be a temptation for Daisy, and Connell wouldn’t be one for her. She’d never see him again.

  With a long sigh, she tried to breathe out the disappointment that came whenever she thought of Connell and how much she missed him.

  “Daisy?” she said softly, opening the door. “What if we moved to Saginaw?”

  Lily stepped over the girl’s untouched lunch tray, still on the floor where the maid had left it.

  “I’m not having any luck finding work here. And I heard someone say there are more factories in Saginaw.”

  She wouldn’t tell Daisy what else she’d heard—that there weren’t many jobs available for single women. In fact, everywhere she’d gone, she’d been told the saloons were hiring pretty waiter girls. She’d have no problem locating work down on Water Street.

  But she knew most of the time “waiter girl” was just another term for prostitute. And she knew as well as any other decent citizen that Water Street was “Hell’s Half Mile.” She’d heard the rumors of the catacombs, a winding labyrinth of rooms and tunnels that existed in the bowels underneath the saloons and hotels. Just the reference to the crimes and illicit activities that took place within the dark, damp hallways was enough to make Lily’s skin crawl.

  She couldn’t—absolutely wouldn’t—take Daisy into such an environment, not even if they became desperate.

  “What do you think?” she asked, dodging the piles of discarded clothes on the floor and making her way to the window. “We could start fresh in Saginaw, where no one will know us or anything about the past year.”

  She yanked open the curtains, letting daylight into the room. She hadn’t given up hope—she wouldn’t give up hope—that everything would work out for her and Daisy.

  “Come on. Time to get up, sleepyhead.” She turned toward the bed, and even before the words were completely out, fear pricked the back of her neck.

  The bed was empty. The quilt and sheets were unmade and in disarray—which wasn’t unusual, at least until the maid came in to tidy the room. What was unusual was that Daisy had gotten out of the bed, something she hadn’t done except to meet with Tierney that day in the library.

  “Daisy?” Lily’s gaze swept around the room, and dread pooled in her stomach.

  Tierney. She was with Tierney again.

  “No!”

  Where had that lying, cheatin
g, no-good grayback taken her this time? To a secluded part of the house where Lily wouldn’t be able to find them?

  “You won’t be able to hide from me.” She walked to the bed, her footsteps choppy and her mind formulating the hot lecture she would sling at Tierney once she found him. With a jerk, she tugged the knit blanket loose from the tangle of sheets, praying she could catch them before Daisy bared herself to Tierney again.

  A piece of folded paper on the bedstead table caught Lily’s attention. She reached for it, and at the sight of her name in Daisy’s scrawled handwriting, her heart ceased beating.

  She flipped the paper open and read.

  Dear Lily,

  I’m leaving. I want to live my life the way I want. I’m a grown woman now, and I don’t need you to tell me what to do or how to live anymore. Please, just let me go and don’t try to find me.

  That was it. No “I love you.” No “Thank you.” No “I’ll miss you.”

  “Oh, Daisy.” Lily pressed her fingers against her lips to hold back a cry.

  She dropped to the edge of the bed and read the note again, hoping the words would say something different this time.

  But the same cold message slapped her and brought stinging tears to her eyes.

  “How could you?” After all she’d done for Daisy, how hard she’d tried to make things right, how much effort she was putting into trying to give them a new life.

  And Daisy repaid her by running away again?

  With a groan, Lily buried her face in her hands. She’d put her own life at risk to rescue Daisy. So had Connell. There was no telling what kind of trouble he was in with Carr now—all because of Daisy.

  Sobs of anger and disappointment tore at Lily’s throat, begging for release.

  Why had Daisy done it? Didn’t she love her? Didn’t she want to be with her?

  She swallowed through the tightness of her throat. With a burst of determination, she stood. She wouldn’t let Daisy run away again. Not now. Not after she’d just found her.

  With a shake of her head, she brushed away the nagging thought that maybe she was trying to take too much control of the plans for her life, that she’d taken over completely and wasn’t leaving room for God’s bigger plans.

  All she needed to do was work harder, didn’t she?

  A quick glance around the room revealed that Daisy had taken all of her dresses, even the ones Mrs. McCormick had loaned her. The silver-handled brush was gone. The decorative silver box. The candelabras.

  Lily’s heart sank. Had Daisy turned into a thief too? How could she so thoughtlessly take the belongings of someone who’d generously opened her home and provided for their every need? What kind of girl would do that?

  Certainly not the sweet little girl she’d raised.

  Lily’s gaze landed upon the bedside table. The miniature framed picture of their mother and father was gone too.

  Her body constricted.

  “No!” She dropped to the floor and scrambled to find the photograph, the last connection she had with her mother and father, the only tie to her past.

  A search under the bed, through the sheets, and around the room revealed nothing but the selfishness in Daisy’s heart.

  “You had to take it, didn’t you?” Lily yelled at the rumpled bed, as if by doing so she could bring Daisy back. “You knew it was important to me. But you didn’t care!”

  The pressure in her chest made her want to weep.

  “You foolish, foolish girl!” She pounded a fist against the bed and caught the edge of a sob before it could escape.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.” Where would Daisy go? What could the girl possibly do besides return to a life of prostitution? And that was unthinkable. She couldn’t let Daisy make that mistake again.

  Daisy had told her not to find her. But Lily had no choice. The girl couldn’t survive on her own. She needed Lily whether she thought so or not.

  Lily raced from the room, down the winding staircase, and into the front hallway. She paused only to retrieve her coat before plunging out the front door into the wintry afternoon.

  Large fluffy snowflakes were coming down thick and fast. The snow had formed a fresh blanket over her earlier footprints and covered any tracks that might lead her to Daisy.

  But Lily didn’t care. She fixed her gaze on the redbrick Queen Anne home across the street. With its steeply pitched roofs, conical tower, and numerous gables, it was an elegant home, a smaller version of the one she’d just exited.

  As she reached the end of the walkway and stepped onto the wide muddy street that was immune to the fresh snow, she ignored the others passing by.

  Each footstep slapped louder against the muck in the street and each breath puff whiter in the frigid air. She couldn’t find the energy to complain about the fact that another winter storm was blowing in, that it was nearing the end of February and spring felt like it would never arrive.

  The only thing she wanted was to get her hands around Tierney’s neck and squeeze until he confessed Daisy’s whereabouts. He would know. Daisy would turn to him first.

  When Lily stepped off the street onto the snow-covered plank walkway that led to Tierney’s home, fingers suddenly gripped her forearm and the tip of a knife poked through her coat and the layers of her clothes into her back.

  She gasped.

  “Don’t say nothin’. Don’t scream” came a hard voice from behind her. “And maybe you’ll live.”

  Lily froze.

  “Walk nice and slow to that carriage there.” The point of the knife was painfully close to piercing her skin, and the strong grip propelled her toward a carriage parked along the side of the road. A team of horses snorted as if waiting for her.

  Fear pulsed through her. “Who are you? What do you want?” She tried to yank her arm free and twist around to identify the man. But he pushed the knife deeper, this time cutting into her skin.

  She cried out at the sudden burning.

  “I said not to say nothin’.” The man pushed her faster toward the open carriage door.

  The driver was perched, reins in hand, ready to go. “That ain’t Bella,” he growled.

  “I couldn’t find her,” said her captor, shoving her upward, giving her little choice but to climb into the carriage. “Figured this one could help us.”

  She couldn’t think fast enough or move quickly enough, and before she knew it, the man had tossed her against the hard, cold seat. She struggled to untangle herself from her skirts and sit up.

  But he shoved his way into the cramped space after her, pushing her down and towering over her. He yanked the door closed with a finality that sent chills over her.

  The odor of dust and decaying leather lingered in the cracked seat. And as he lowered his face to hers, the strong scent of onions and tobacco on his hot breath choked her.

  He gave a short laugh. “I’ve been waiting to get a taste of you.”

  Through the dark shadows of the boxy interior, she caught a glimpse of his face and the black gaps in his grin. “Jimmy Neil from Harrison.”

  “That’s me.” His hand crept over her bodice, sending new horror through her.

  The worst was happening. He was going to defile her.

  “Get off me.” She struggled against him, scrambling to get out from underneath his heavy weight. She kneed him and scratched his face, and fought with all the desperation welling inside her.

  The jerk of the carriage as it started forward sent him crashing against the rear-facing seat.

  She used the brief respite to pull herself onto the bench and move as far away from him as possible. She cowered in the corner, trying to still the trembling in her limbs, knowing she couldn’t put enough distance between them, and he could easily overpower her if he chose to have his way with her.

  But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight him. She’d rather die fighting than let him violate her.

  He cupped his hand, cursed at the edge of the seat, then yelled at the driver.

>   She balled her fists, ready to swing should Jimmy come at her again.

  But he lifted his hand and blood gushed from a deep tear in the flesh of his palm.

  “What have you done with Daisy?” she asked. Maybe he’d already captured Daisy and was planning to make her return to the Stockade.

  “That’s funny.” He reached for a rag next to him on the seat. “I was about to ask you the same.”

  “Did you kidnap her too?”

  He bit down on the edge of the rag, and despite the bumping and jostling of the vehicle, he used his teeth to tear a long strip. “I figured when I couldn’t find her that you took her and hid her someplace new.”

  Lily glanced out the carriage window as best she could through the smudged and frosted pane. They were moving fast.

  Jimmy wrapped the strip around his wounded hand. “Tell me where Bella is.”

  “I don’t know.” Her fingers moved toward the door lever. “And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. Not even if you stuck your knife into me and cut out my heart.”

  Jimmy snorted. “Oh, believe me, you’d tell me if I stuck my knife into you. I’d make sure of that.”

  Lily shuddered and inched her hand higher. She needed to get away from him and find Daisy before he did.

  “My boss told me to bring Bella back to him or he’d kill me.”

  “You’d best tell your boss you won’t be bringing Bella back to him. Ever. I won’t let it happen.”

  “Then I guess you’re gonna have to take her place.” He finished tying the bandage around his wound, but a dark spot of blood was already seeping through the material. “Because I’m not going back empty-handed.”

  Her fingers made contact with the metal handle. Her heart whirred in a frenzy. She couldn’t let him drag her back to Harrison. She’d jump to her death before she let him take her to the Stockade.

  She flipped the latch and the door swung open. She lunged for the opening. The swirling snow and cold air hit her face. She glanced down. The crunching of the wheels in the ice and mud made her hesitate for just a moment.