Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  She started to step out from behind Connell, but he took a step sideways to block her. “Anyone who’s met Lily knows she’d never willingly step foot in your brothel,” he said to Carr, praying Lily wouldn’t do anything rash. “And I suppose now you’re going to try to convince everyone here that Frankie agreed to work for you too.”

  “Of course she agreed. She came to Harrison solely for the purpose of working for me.”

  “The truth is, you wouldn’t have had to lure her up here under false pretenses if she were so willing. And you most certainly wouldn’t have had to beat her to death if she’d wanted this kind of life.”

  Lily gasped and her body stiffened.

  Too late he realized the poor timing of breaking the news of Frankie’s death to her, and he wanted to smash a mug over his head for his stupidity.

  “Frankie’s dead?” Before he could stop her, she slid out from behind him. “You murdered a poor innocent girl?” Her voice grew shrill.

  In that one instant, Carr grabbed her arm and captured her. He jerked her against him and held her in front of his body like a human shield.

  She screamed in fury and struggled against him.

  Connell lunged for her, but Carr shoved the barrel of his pistol against his heart, stopping him.

  At the sight of the gun pressed into Connell, Lily froze and her face paled.

  “That’s a good girl.” Carr jerked her tighter. “You do as I say. Don’t move. Don’t speak. And don’t cause me any trouble, and maybe I’ll go easy on you later when I give you your beating.”

  “Let her go, Carr.” This was exactly what he’d hoped to prevent. The scoundrel had to know that with Lily as his prisoner, he’d be able to get Connell to do just about anything he wanted.

  “And what other lessons do you plan on teaching me tonight, McCormick? Go on. Do your best to reform me.” The hard gleam in the man’s eyes told Connell exactly what he thought of Connell’s recent involvement in the Red Ribbon Society.

  “I think you’re going to find that there are a lot of people in this town, and even in this saloon here tonight, who are tired of your intimidation and the way you’ve been running this town into the ground.”

  “Is that so? I bet there’s not a man here who would agree with you.”

  The room was silent except for a belch from a drunken shanty boy at the table next to them.

  Carr’s grin widened. “See—”

  “I agree with McCormick” came a man’s voice from the edge of the room.

  Connell’s heart roared to life. Was Stuart inside?

  “There’s a lot of us who are fed up with all your bullying,” another voice called out—a voice that sounded like Herb Nolan’s, his foreman.

  “We’re sick to death of you breaking the law, Carr.” The calls came from around the room, and Connell could only pray all the men had made it into the compound and were in position.

  Carr’s expression wavered, but the pistol pointed at Connell’s heart didn’t budge.

  The grumbling around the room continued.

  “Let Lily and Connell go,” shouted Stuart above the din, “and maybe we won’t tear your place apart right here and now.”

  “You so much as lay a finger on anything in the Stockade,” Carr shouted back, “and I’ll blow a hole through McCormick’s heart faster than you can blink.”

  “If you shoot him,” Stuart’s voice rang out, “you might as well count yourself a dead man.”

  Once again the room turned into a silent tomb. Stuart pushed through the revelers, and some of the other men followed, pointing their guns at Carr and the bouncers who stood near him. Jimmy Neil’s grin faded and fear flashed across his face.

  “You’re done, Carr,” Mr. Sturgis said. “We don’t want you in Harrison any longer.”

  Carr didn’t move. “If you don’t put down your guns and walk on out of here, I’ll make sure every single one of you lives to regret the day you stepped into the Stockade.”

  “Your threats don’t scare us anymore.”

  “Nobody likes you, Carr.” Mr. Sturgis spoke again. “You might as well pack your bags and get out of here, ’cuz your days are numbered.”

  Carr finally glanced around the circle of men who surrounded him. His clean-cut features hardened. “You all know that my business is what keeps this town alive. And it keeps the shanty boys happy and out of trouble.”

  Disgust rose swiftly inside Connell. Had he really once believed the same thing as Carr? That the taverns and brothels were a necessary evil in the lumber communities?

  He met Lily’s gaze and hoped she could see the remorse there.

  Her eyes brimmed with a determination that sent a nervous shiver over his skin.

  What was she planning to do next?

  “We have evidence that you’re behind the log thefts this winter.” Herb Nolan stepped forward, his hunting knife unsheathed and pointed at Carr.

  “You don’t have any evidence,” Carr snarled.

  “A whole bunch of logs on the rollway down in Averill is plenty of evidence, especially because ain’t no one seen you or your men doing any cutting this winter.”

  Several of the shanty boys throughout the room cussed and still others turned angry eyes upon Carr.

  “After all the hard work these boys have gone through to cut and haul those logs,” continued Herb, “they don’t take kindly to anyone tampering with their profit.”

  Carr’s hard expression flickered for just an instant, but it was enough for Connell to see that the man knew his days in Harrison were numbered.

  “We don’t need you, Carr.” Stuart’s gun was leveled on Carr. “We never have. In fact, this town will finally have a chance to prosper once you leave. We’ll have law and order and maybe we’ll get some decent families wanting to come here to live.”

  Carr took a step back.

  The pressure of the steel pistol in Connell’s chest fell away. Before he could take a breath of relief, Carr swung the gun around and pressed it into Lily’s temple.

  “No!” Connell started toward Carr.

  “Don’t take a step closer or I’ll kill her.”

  Chapter

  29

  The cold metal jabbed into Lily’s head with a pressure that would have given her a headache if she hadn’t been so angry.

  She’d had enough of Carr. He’d not only stolen the life and love out of Daisy, but he’d murdered Frankie.

  Picturing the frail, sweet Frankie taking blow after blow from Carr’s brass knuckles only managed to stir her anger all the more. The poor girl would have been terrified and in torturous agony.

  “Don’t any of you try to follow me,” Carr said, dragging Lily backward toward the steps. “Or she’s dead.”

  Maggie stood in the stairwell, the dark shadows hiding her. Even so, Lily could see the glint in the woman’s eyes, the one that said she’d warned her not to try anything and now was going to pay for lying.

  Panic raced through Lily. If Maggie got hold of her again, she wouldn’t let her go. She’d haul her back to that dark closet and lock her in there for good. She’d be as good as dead too.

  Oh, God, her heart cried. She’d tried to trust Him throughout the awful evening. Could she keep trusting that He’d work out His plans for her?

  She glanced across the room to Connell, to the haggard fear that crisscrossed his face. He’d come to save her. He’d risked his life for her. Again.

  But he’d done everything he could. Was anything more possible?

  As if sensing her question, he slipped his hand underneath his shirt. His fingers came back empty. His gaze darted to her hand, to his knife.

  She clutched it, wishing she could toss it across the room to him.

  First fear, then desperation flashed over his features. He glanced around as if looking for something he could use to stop Carr from taking her away. His focus landed on the sharp blade of the knife his foreman had drawn.

  Connell nodded at the boss and then at the knif
e, indicating that the man should toss it to him. The foreman lifted his brow. And Lily was sure he was thinking the same thing she was—how could he toss Connell the knife without being seen and putting Lily in more jeopardy?

  “You’re all big fools for interfering with my business,” Carr called. His arm around her waist was as tight as a chain.

  She fought against his hold, but he only jammed the pistol until the pressure made her dizzy with pain.

  The knife burned in her hand, turning her palm sweaty. Did she dare use it?

  She curled her fingers around the handle.

  Carr neared the bottom step. And Maggie’s eyes above the scarf mocked her, almost as if she were smiling in anticipation of the torture she would lay upon Lily when she got her hands on her.

  “No!” Lily yelled. With a burst of strength borne of all the anger, pain, and fear rolling deep in her heart, she raised the knife and swung it backward, making contact with Carr’s upper leg.

  He gave a scream of agony and fell away from her, releasing his hold. The gun slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

  She started to fling herself toward Connell, but fingers gripped the back of her dress and yanked her backward. She found herself falling against Jimmy.

  In that instant of confusion, she saw the foreman slide his knife across the floor to Connell. He swooped it up.

  Lily strained to duck, to give Connell a target. And before Jimmy could move, Connell flung the weapon. It flew through the air with a speed that would have frightened Lily had she not seen Connell throw a knife before. The sharp tip sliced into Jimmy and embedded into his shoulder.

  Jimmy shouted a string of curses and grabbed the smooth handle of the knife that had gone deep into his flesh. He shoved Lily away as if she were completely to blame for his pain.

  She stumbled forward, scrambling across the distance toward Connell, her heart thudding with the need to reach him.

  He was already halfway across the room. She launched herself into his arms, desperate for his help and strength.

  “Lily,” he breathed as he swept her up, lifted her into his arms, and cradled her against his chest. The warmth and power of his hold enveloped her, and she buried her face into him, needing to block out Carr and everything that had happened.

  Around them the men roared to life. They lunged at the bouncers, fists swinging. The crash of chairs, the shattering of glass, and the shouts sent her heart racing with new fear. Would they make it out alive?

  She wound her arms around Connell’s neck.

  He ducked as a bottle whizzed past them. A second later it crashed against the wall.

  “Hold on tight,” he said, focusing on the door. He plowed forward, knocking into some men who didn’t seem to care who they were fighting, only that they relished a brawl.

  One of the bouncers by the bottom of the steps shouted and began to make his way toward them. His eyes narrowed with a murderous glare.

  “Hurry,” Lily urged. She didn’t know if she had the strength to fight anymore.

  “I got him,” Stuart shouted to Connell. “You get Lily out of here.”

  Connell hesitated.

  “Go!” Stuart called again. Then with a cry, Stuart rushed at the bouncer, swinging the butt of his rifle at the man.

  She could feel Connell’s muscles tighten as if he resisted the idea of leaving his companions to finish the bloody battle. But the leg of a chair flew past them, and Connell put his head down, shielding her with his body. He barreled his way to the door and kicked it open.

  A rush of frigid air splashed her. For once she didn’t care that Michigan was so cold. Indeed, the flittering snowflakes were like kisses against the bare skin on her arms.

  He crossed the yard, and the dogs raced to the fence of their pen, growling and barking. But their fierceness didn’t taunt her as it had in the past. She’d faced the dogs and won. And now she’d faced Carr and walked away from him too.

  A fountain of unidentifiable emotions began to bubble inside her.

  She’d lived through the horror of the past twenty-four hours, she’d stabbed Carr, and she was still alive to tell about it.

  A ripple pushed up her throat and ended in a short sob.

  Through the blackness of the night, broken by light streaming from the open doorway, Connell peered down at her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, the worry in his eyes caressing her face.

  She nodded, her throat too constricted to utter the gratitude she owed him.

  He made his way through the unguarded Stockade gate and down the hill. Shouts and cries of the brawl followed them each step. She clung to him, knowing she should get down and walk but not sure her legs could hold her if she tried. He didn’t stop until he reached the front step of the Northern Hotel.

  His labored breath filled her ears with a strange feeling of comfort. He banged the door with his elbow. Immediately it opened and they tumbled inside, into the light and warmth of the hotel dining room.

  Oren’s hand shook against the door. His bushy eyebrows formed jagged arches above his red-rimmed eyes. At the sight of her in Connell’s arms, his shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “Oh, thank the good Lord. Thank the good Lord.”

  The gurgling fountain of emotions rose in her. She wiggled to loosen herself from Connell’s hold, leaving him little choice but to lower her. The moment her feet touched the ground she reached for Oren.

  His arms folded about her, and he pressed her face into his shoulder. He held her tightly, as if he would never let her go. Silent sobs rose inside her chest, the sorrow and pain from all she’d lost and now all she’d gained. She clung to him as she would a real father.

  She couldn’t remember anyone ever crying over her. Anyone worrying about her the way Oren did.

  Hot tears streaked her cheeks. Maybe she didn’t have Daisy anymore. And maybe she’d have to give up her dreams of making a home for them. But God hadn’t left her alone. He’d given her an unlikely family in this old man.

  For all his gruffness, she didn’t think a real father would have been capable of loving her any more than Oren did. And she was sure there were those, like Connell, whose fathers didn’t love or respect them even half as much as Oren.

  She had to remember to count her blessings.

  Oren pulled back and tugged a hankie from the inner pocket of his coat. The checkered linen was crumpled and crusty, but he wiped the moisture from his cheeks and then blew into it, making the noise of a rusty bugle.

  She swiped at the dampness on her face with the back of her hand.

  “You didn’t let any of them no-good boys lay a pinkie on you, did you?” He stuffed the hankie back into the tight pocket.

  “Of course not.” She smiled at him through her tears.

  “Good.” He took a deep breath, and his drooping shoulders rose like a weight had been lifted from them. “Then that saves me the trouble of having to go up there and start smashing heads together like rotten squash.”

  Lily caught Connell’s gaze. The look told her what a struggle he’d had convincing Oren to stay back at the hotel during the rescue. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of threats he’d had to use to keep the man from barging out the door and striding into danger.

  She nodded her thanks, hoping he could see how grateful she was for his protection of Oren.

  He nodded back.

  The door banged open and a gust of snow and cold swirled inside with Stuart. His brow was wrinkled, and he gulped for breath. “How’s Lily?” He stopped at the sight of her next to Oren. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle and his eyes filled with agony—the agony of a man in love with a woman he’d just about lost.

  Her breath stuck in her chest.

  Did Stuart love her?

  She’d always sensed his affection. But the look in his eye went much further than normal concern.

  “I’m doing fine now that I’m here,” she said, avoiding looking directly at him.
Had she somehow led him on? She’d tried to keep things plain and simple between them. She considered him a good friend and a companion in the fight for justice. But that was all.

  She could feel his gaze probing her.

  “Did Carr hurt you?” He took a step toward her.

  “I would have died first before letting him defile me.” She turned away from Stuart, knowing the gesture would hurt him but needing to tell him somehow they could never be more than friends.

  Vera draped a quilt over her shoulders. “You don’t know just how sick with worry we’ve been.” Her eyes were puffy and red, and when she patted Lily’s cheek, her lips trembled. Mr. Heller huddled nearby, his whittling abandoned in his chair by the fireplace. Even his face was full of worry.

  Lily drew the quilt over the exposed flesh of her bosom. She couldn’t keep back a shudder at the thought of how close she’d come to ending up like Frankie.

  The sorrow of the girl’s death squeezed Lily’s heart and brought fresh tears to her eyes. How had she managed to fail so miserably to help Frankie?

  Her head dropped. She’d lost both Daisy and Frankie.

  How could she have been so foolish to think she could orchestrate everything by herself? Why had she ever believed she needed to be the one in control, that she knew more about what needed to be done than God?

  Look what had happened when she’d finally relinquished her plans—God had sent practically the entire town to her rescue.

  “Well, you won’t have to worry about Carr anymore.” Stuart twisted his hands together. “Maggie helped him to his office. And once he was gone, his bouncers stopped fighting.”

  For the first time, she noticed Stuart’s sling and the lacerations on his face. Guilt threatened to choke her. She didn’t need to ask him who beat him up.

  “I think,” Stuart continued, “the townspeople made it clear they don’t want Carr or any of his men around anymore. It’s only a matter of time before he moves out of Harrison.”

  “Good.” But at the moment, she couldn’t even take consolation from the fact that she’d had a part in the man’s downfall. It all was too little, too late.