Ribbons of Steel (12 page)

Seth settled Mrs. Flanagan and her daughter in the wagon and jumped up beside them. With no room in the back for Madeline to rest because of their large trunks, the young girl sat between her mother and Seth. Before long, she was fast asleep with her head resting across her mother’s knees.

Thankful for Mrs. Flanagan’s silence, Seth’s mind was filled with Anna Louise, who sat in a tearoom with another man.

The kiss they had shared the other day proved she had feelings for him. Didn’t it? She had responded to his advances. Didn’t she? Maybe she was upset with him because of the way he proposed. And if truth be told, he had botched it good. He guessed he shouldn’t have started out by telling her all about his problems at home. About Catherine wanting to come into town to become a teacher. About his needing a wife to help out at the farm. Telling her he loved her would have been enough. The rest would have taken care of itself. He was certain of it.

Next time he was in town he’d stop by and make sure Mr. Linsky wasn’t around, or likely to show up. Then he’d declare himself to Anna Louise properly. He’d explain Mrs. Flanagan was on hand, now, and Anna Louise wouldn’t have the responsibilities of the children or have to do any of the farm chores if she didn’t have a mind to.

All she had to do was be his wife.

That settled, Seth concentrated on making the turn up the rutted road to the farm. Madeline moaned, lifted her head to get comfortable, and then settled back down in her mother’s lap. Driving the rig up the hill to the homestead always gave Seth a sense of belonging. He had to admit he loved working the farm. Even though his father didn’t like farm life as such, deep down where it counted, farming was a better way of life than working the rails.

Seth thanked God every night before he shut his eyes he wouldn’t have to work the rails alongside his father, as many young men were forced to do just to make ends meet. He had clean fresh air every day, plenty of food on the table, and the freedom to wander their eighty acres of fine producing soil and pasture land. So far, everything was paying for itself.

The kerosene lamp in the kitchen sent a golden glow through the window as Seth drew up to the front of the house. Catherine was kneading dough on the kitchen table when they walked in. The smell of warm yeast filled the room.

Anna Louise should be the one standing in the kitchen kneading dough. Anna Louise should be the one waiting for
him
.

Seth didn’t have much time to dwell on his problems. He helped Mrs. Flanagan and her daughter into the house.

“Catherine, this here is Mrs. Maggie Flanagan and her daughter Madeline. Is their room ready? They’re right tuckered out after their long travels.”

“I don’t mean to be no trouble,” Mrs. Flanagan told Catherine. “Any place to lay my head for the night will do. We can work everything out tomorrow. My Madeline is a wee bit tired, though, so I would appreciate a place for her to be settling in for the night.”

“No trouble,” Catherine said, wiping her hands on her ruffled apron. Her hair was pulled back in a long single braid, and damp tendrils hung around her flushed, tired face. “I’ve arranged our parents’ room for the two of you. It’s ready now. There’s fresh water from the well on the stand, and a chamber pot in the far corner. I’ll have Seth go and get your travel bag. We can sort out the rest of the baggage tomorrow.”

Without another word, Seth hefted the travel bags from the wagon, carried them inside, and laid them at the foot of the bed.

“Good night, Ma’am.” He tipped his hat and left them to it.

Seth returned outside to tend to the horses and wagon, then led them to the barn. Before going in for the night, he checked on the other animals, making sure his brothers had settled them properly.

His feet dragged and scuffed at the dry path between the barn and the house. Truth be told, he wasn’t about to get much sleep tonight even though he was tuckered out. Just thinking about Anna Louise was sure to keep him awake. He was going to have to find a good reason to get back into town soon so he could get her alone, and set things straight.

****

After a near sleepless night, Seth woke to the smell of fresh perked coffee and flapjacks cooking on the wood stove. He threw on his barn clothes and headed for the kitchen only to find Mrs. Flanagan standing at the stove fixing breakfast.

“Well, now, Seth. Good morning to ya. Be sitting yerself down and helping yerself to some of my special griddlecakes. ’Tis a special recipe I saved from the old country, and if I do say so, they always disappear before I’m done making them. Would you be liking some coffee with those?”

“They smell real good.” Seth sat, and Mrs. Flanagan placed a large plate of cakes in front of him. He cut into them with his fork and shoved a heaping helping into his mouth. They were as tasty as they smelled. He was half done with his plateful before he offered his appreciation.

“It’s kind of you to go to so much trouble. Are you always up so early? Everyone around here sleeps in ’til I get back from the barn.”

“Well now, I figured as how you shouldn’t be going to the barn on an empty stomach. Give Catherine a rest for a change, as well. She looked mighty tired last night after making bread. And the wee one woke up a few times. A girl like Catherine shouldn’t have to be worrying about young’uns at her age. I can see I arrived at just the right time to help. Now finish your coffee and be off with ya. The chores are waiting, I’m sure.”

So much for the quiet Mrs. Flanagan. The woman didn’t give a person a chance to say a word. Her cooking, however, made up for her non-stop chatter.

****

Charley arrived in Philadelphia as the sun set. He was ready to tell Aderley what had happened in Pittsburgh but discovered much of the news had already broken in Philadelphia. The telegraph spread news quickly these days.

“What a blood bath,” Aderley shouted when Charley knocked on his door. “Damn it, Charles, we can’t let that happen here. Get the men together, and we’ll see what we can do. Get down there and talk to them. Calm them down. Find out what’s going on. I don’t want a shooting mess on our hands.”

Charley left the station office at a run. Tired or not, he had to talk to the men. They’d be congregating at the Blue Bottle at the end of the block.

Charley didn’t trust Donahue. He had spotted the dirty weasel talking to the fellas down behind the roundhouse on several occasions. He’d also caught him talking to Seamus a couple of times, but Seamus wasn’t falling for the man’s claptrap.

The Blue Bottle was crowded and hazy blue from cigarette and cigar smoke. The name of the tavern was an apt description. He found Seamus leaning against the bar. Charley sidled up to him and offered him a cigarette. Seamus’ hands shook as he reached for the smoke.

“What’s going on, Seamus?”

“I hear it’s bad in Pittsburgh. What if the miners from Shawnee come here to do battle and stir up trouble? We’d have a massacre on our hands, too, we would. They like to stick their noses in where it does no good.”

“Listen, Seamus. This isn’t the only line having trouble. It’s bad in Ohio, too. Hell, it’s all around us. Up in Cincinnati, in Erie, in Buffalo, and even in Baltimore. Heaven help us, it’s all over the place. I just finished talking with Aderley. What a mess. Pittsburgh was a blood bath. I’ve seen it myself. Just got back an hour ago. We have to keep things here under control. The militia didn’t fare too well in Pittsburgh, and it’s going to be hard for them to show their faces here. But they’ll come. They’ll be looking to prove themselves, they will. We better be mighty careful what we stir up. We don’t want our women and children killed like they were in Pittsburgh.”

Charley puffed on his cigarette, his eyes watering just thinking about the child having been beaten and bloodied. The picture was still vividly etched in his mind.

“I understand Secretary of War McCrary is going to represent Aderley and Scott. For God’s sake, General Dodge and Tom Scott have McCrary in their pockets.” Charley combed his hand through his hair. He looked at Seamus. “I tell you they have powerful people on the books. We can’t win this one with such men of power.”

“If we don’t fight back, Charley, we give them the power. We have to unite. The entire population of Philadelphia is behind us. You saw the way they supported us the other day.”

“You didn’t see what I did in Pittsburgh. Women and children bleeding all over the streets. The looting and disregard for each other.”

Seamus looked at Charley and shook his head.

“They might just as well be murdered in the streets for all the good it’ll do them without a means of pay.”

Charlie blinked at Seamus’ words. Had it come to this? Donahue had muddied the waters this time. But if he was honest with himself, he’d admit Seamus was right. He didn’t know what more he could say except to warn everyone about what was headed their way. They needed to be better prepared for the consequences of their actions.

“Why don’t you go on home, Seamus. I want to talk to a couple other men before I take you up on your offer to stay at your place. They have to know what I saw. Maybe then they’ll see reason and at least keep their women and children at home where they’ll be safe.”

Seamus tamped his cigarette out on the plank-board floor already littered with a wealth of cigarette butts. It was a wonder the place didn’t go up in flames from the number of cigarettes half-stomped out by a booted foot, embers still glowing.

****

Charley left the tavern and everyone to their own disgruntled contemplations much later. He hadn’t gotten anyone to listen. For once the Irish, Hungarians, Poles, and Scots were getting along; all agreeing to strike.

He walked the three blocks to Seamus’ house, the kerosene street lanterns casting a yellow, hazy glow along the dark plank board walkway on the side of the dirt street. The leaves on the trees shadowed his steps, and an uncomfortable feeling had him looking over his shoulder. Nothing jumped out at him on his way to Seamus’ tenement. He let out a sigh of relief and walked up the five steps to the front door, a small home attached to a row of homes along the street. They were narrow, two story, drab, townhouses. Charley had no trouble recognizing company issue. He and his family had lived in one for far too long. Each house was the same inside. A narrow hallway led back into a small living room area with a kitchen off to the side. A fruit cellar in the stone-walled basement along with a tiny area with a bathtub and a commode off to one corner. The second floor housed two bedrooms. At least they had windows in each room to let in air during the hot summer days. In the small, narrow yard, there was just enough room for a garden and a clothes line. They were lucky they had running water.

Charley knocked on the door. No answer. He wasn’t surprised. Seamus had no doubt already gone to bed. He let himself in, but before he could take a single step, his foot struck an object on the floor. He swung the door wider, letting the light from the street lantern in so he could see what was blocking his entrance.

Lord. God. Almighty.

Seamus lay sprawled on his side. Blood trickled down the side of his face—his swollen eyes already turning an ugly shade of purple. This was no simple fall. Seamus had been beaten and left for dead.

Charley bent down and put his fingers to Seamus’ neck. The man was just about breathing, his heartbeat weak. But at least he was alive.

“Holy, Mary, Mother of God, Seamus. You poor soul. Who did this to you?” He nudged his friend, hoping for a response, but Seamus was beyond speaking.

Careful not to hurt him further, he rolled Seamus over onto his back. Seamus grunted, then fell silent. Charley kicked the front door shut and locked it, then checked his friend’s breathing again. He ran his fingers over the prone body to check for broken bones; there were none. Charley sighed, took a deep breath, and slid his hands under Seamus’ armpits and dragged him into the living room. Seamus wasn’t a big man, but he was dead weight. Charley drew in another deep breath, hefted him over his shoulder, and then laid him on the settee.

Seamus grunted once again as his body sank into the soft, plump cushions.

Dear Lord, don’t let there be any internal injuries.

Charley ran to the kitchen, pumped water from the dry sink into a pan, and grabbed a wash cloth and towel to take back to the sitting room. He washed the blood away from his friend’s face and discovered a large cut above Seamus’ right eye and one on his chin. Both continued to ooze. Charley figured Seamus’ nose was broken, so he took his thumb and forefinger on either side in an effort to realign it while Seamus was still unconscious. Seamus’ eyes flew open, then shut on another gasping moan. The man’s body went limp.

Charley cleaned Seamus as best he could while his friend was out cold, then covered the battered man with the quilt he found thrown over the edge of the sofa. When he bent to retrieve the soiled water and rag, a hand shot out and grasped his wrist. The water sloshed over the side of the basin.

“What happened?” Seamus demanded. “Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by one of them damn trains?”

Seamus started to sit up, but Charley placed a hand on his chest and coaxed him back down against the cushions with his free hand while he set the bowl back on the floor.

“Hold up friend. Take it easy,” he said. “What happened here? Looks like someone did a once-over on you, twice. Did you see who did this?”

Seamus sat back and took a couple of deep breaths before answering.

“No. But for sure there was more than one. At first I figured they thought I was you, but they told me to tell you if you didn’t side with them, you’d be next.”

“I’m sorry, Seamus.” Charley rubbed his hand over his face. “I never meant this to happen to you. Donahue is more than likely still upset with me over our scuffle the other day.”

“I can’t imagine what would have happened had Maggie and Madeline still been here. Likely beaten them as well, they would. I’m thankful I let you talk me into sending them north to be with your family. They grabbed me from behind just as I entered the house. They were inside waiting. Someone hauled my hands behind my back, and the other did the dirty work. I didn’t see much after the first punch.”