A Promise for Tomorrow (37 page)
“Then perhaps he’ll listen to the sheriff,” Latrobe suggested.
“Ben, that’s not the answer,” James replied. “At least not at this point. I know this man. I’ll talk to him myself. Whether he listens or not, I have to give it a shot. You can speak to the sheriff, maybe suggest that a force of patrolmen would be wise, given the upcoming arrival of the new laborers. Even suggest that there could be trouble, but leave Red to me.” He pulled on his outer coat and turned to Kiernan. “Will you take me to him?”
“Nay,” he replied softly and bowed his head. He seemed to consider the matter for a moment before he added, “But I’ll tell ya where I last saw him.”
Kiernan followed James into the street outside the hotel. His conscience bothered him something fierce, and there was no denying the conflict he felt within his soul. He cared about this man—cared about his family, too—and he didn’t want to see any of them harmed. Neither did he want to see his brother hurt.
“Which way do I go?” James asked him.
Kiernan drew a deep breath. To send James to Red now would mean certain doom. Red was in a blood haze, and when he was like that, there was no dealing with him. He had set himself upon the mission of protecting his people from outsiders, and James’ appearance would only fuel the fire.
“I still don’t know that this is a good idea,” Kiernan said, stalling for time.
“We haven’t much choice,” James replied. He looked Kiernan square in the face. “I agree with you, and in a way I agree with Red. This idea of evening out the various factions is only going to see us in a full-blown war. I can’t convince Latrobe any more than I’ve had success in convincing your brother. But I have to try.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” Kiernan said, heaving a sigh. There really was no other way. How could he ever explain to Victoria that he’d allowed her father to go into a fight without the slightest hope of winning? How could he look into her beautiful brown eyes and admit that he could have gone with James, could have stood beside him, but didn’t?
James was watching him oddly. “Are you sure? Your brother will no doubt see this as a betrayal.”
Kiernan nodded. “Aye. But if I don’t go with ya, I’ll be betrayin’ meself.” He motioned to James. “It’s this way.”
They walked through the town, weaving in and out of the mingling crowd. The good weather had held, making people eager to see to their shopping needs. Hammers rang out a rhythmic cadence as they passed by the smithy’s shop. No one seemed aware that war was about to be waged in their city.
Kiernan took a right and motioned to James. They quickened their pace and moved past the depot to a clearing where railroad equipment had been stored. Several shacks blocked the view of any activity taking place behind. Kiernan knew that Red had chosen the place for this very reason. This, along with the fact that most of the laboring men were in the vicinity and could easily slip away to join the commotion.
As they rounded a corner, Kiernan jabbed James in the ribs. “Ya be keepin’ yar mouth shut and I’ll do the talkin’,” he said gruffly.
James looked as though he might question Kiernan’s demand when they caught sight of a man approaching.
“A man stands tall when he’s respected,” the man said rather stiffly.
“Aye, and when he’s a Connaughtman, he’s feared, as well,” Kiernan countered with the expected passwords.
The man gave a quick jerk of his head in the direction of several cotton bales, and Kiernan touched the brim of his hat in respectful acknowledgment. He’d lived with passwords and countersigns most of his life, and even in America they were vital for staying alive, or at least staying out of trouble. Yet here he was going into trouble and dragging James Baldwin with him. It was senseless and he knew it. Red wouldn’t listen to James. He would only seek to exact revenge upon him. With that thought, Kiernan paused, causing James to look at him questioningly.
“It’s not too late if ya want to turn back,” Kiernan told him.
“Red won’t turn back,” James replied. “Someone has to stand up to the man and make him see matters for what they are.”
“Aye, I suppose yar right.”
But in his heart, Kiernan didn’t believe it. James was considered a landlord, a nobleman of American class, whom Red would just as soon run through as talk with. Already he could hear his brother’s menacing tone. They rounded the corner, and Kiernan instantly caught sight of Red. He was speaking to a gathering of men who were clearly divided into opposing sides.
The two groups faced each other with about six feet of dirt between them. It was just enough space for James and Kiernan to approach through the crowd without having to ask or demand that they be allowed to pass. Red, instantly taking note of his brother, scowled down at Kiernan and narrowed his eyes. Kiernan lowered his head, feeling a mixture of shame and frustration.
“Ya fool. Why’d ya bring him into this?” Red demanded.
Before Kiernan could answer, however, James stepped forward. “I threatened to fire the both of you if he didn’t.” Kiernan’s head shot up at this lie.
“Oh, ya did, did ya?” Red replied. “Well, I don’t fear your threats, boss man.”
“Well, perhaps you should,” James answered him.
Red’s face contorted and darkened in hue. “I’ll deal with this jackeen first, and then I’ll tend to yar senseless prattle.”
It was only then that Kiernan realized his brother had two hefty Connaughtmen holding a member of the opposition. The victim had obviously been beaten; his eyes were even now turning black-and-blue, and his face was cut and bleeding. Kiernan felt sweat trickle down his neck, even though the November air was cold. He bit at his lip to keep from protesting Red’s actions, but it was James who voiced his objection.
“Let him go, Red.”
“Nay. He has to be taught a proper lesson.”
“I’m asking you respectfully to let him go. All I want is for us to sit down and discuss this as reasonable men.” James took yet another step away from Kiernan.
Kiernan feared that if James moved too far away, either side might well jump him. The Irish might be divided on issues surrounding their Irish heritage, but they’d no doubt unite to see to the demise of their taskmaster.
Red threw a punch into the injured man’s midsection, then turned to James as though he’d just served the man tea. “Ya want to be next, boss man?”
“Not particularly,” James answered him.
“Then leave off with yar clamorin’ about discussions. Talk is for women. We men see settlin’ our disagreements in a more physical way.”
Kiernan didn’t know if his brother’s men had loosened their hold on the man because Red had so thoroughly beaten him, or if it was because they were enthralled at the oddity that any man should stand up to Red O’Connor. But for whatever reason, they were no longer paying much attention to their captive, and with one fell swoop, the man rammed his elbows backward into both men and sent them sprawling into the dirt. Next he threw out a punch in Red’s direction, but he easily sidestepped it and raised his fist to defend himself. Kiernan was totally focused on the action when his concentration was broken by the firing of a gun.
James Baldwin had produced a revolver and, after firing the shot off, stood looking around to see if he had everyone’s attention. “For those of you not yet familiar with a Dragoon, let me introduce you. I’ve just fired one shot. That leaves me five, and each one will walk a hole through a man big enough to drive a wagon.”
Everyone kept their gazes fixed on James while stepping back a pace or two. Only Red and the man he had beaten remained frozen in place. “Ya can’t shoot us all,” Red said defiantly.
“No, I suppose you are right in that,” James said, then turned to level the gun at Red. “But the next shot is reserved for you.”
Red laughed. “Ya wouldn’t dare be shootin’ me. Ya haven’t the guts.”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” James countered.
Kiernan felt his mouth go dry. He could scarcely believe what was happening. James Baldwin looked as calm and collected as though he’d come for a church picnic. The man had to be ten kinds of fool to pull a gun on Red O’Connor. Red would never stand for this humiliation. He’d rather be dead than lose face with his men.
“Go ahead and shoot him,” the injured man called out. “Here, better yet, let me.”
James shook his head. “I’ve had it with both sides. I’d just as soon shoot you both as to see any more of your Irish brand of justice. You men give no thought to the consequences of your actions. You drive at each other like a man trying to rid his house of rats, but in truth, you’ve become the vermin. I have a railroad to build. I also have a wife and children to protect, as do many of the folks in this town. It may be no concern of yours, but it is uppermost in my mind.”
“Yar stickin’ yar nose in where it don’t belong. I’m a-warnin’ ya one last time,” Red said, his words low and threatening.
“Don’t bother,” James replied. “I’m not interested in your warnings. I’m here to negotiate this matter, and if you won’t listen to reason standing there on your own two good feet, maybe you’ll listen to reason on a stretcher.” He lowered the gun toward Red’s thick, beefy leg and pulled back the hammer.
“No!” Kiernan said, putting himself between Red and James. “I didn’t bring ya here to kill me brother. Nor will I be standin’ by idle while ya put holes in him.”
Red reached down, picked up a sledgehammer, and with lightning- quick speed lunged in the direction of James Baldwin. “Get out of me way,” he told Kiernan, but Kiernan reacted quickly from years of brotherly wrestling matches. He pushed James out of harm’s way, then gave Red a shove that threw him off balance.
The other men moved in as if to make it a free-for-all, but James fired off his second shot and once again the crowd moved back a pace. “Enough!”
“Ya traitor,” Red said, spitting dirt from his mouth. He got to his feet and moved menacingly toward Kiernan. His eyes were ablaze with anger, and Kiernan saw instantly that he’d gone too far. Nothing he could say would be of the slightest interest to Red when he was in this state of mind.
“Don’t touch him,” James commanded. “I truly don’t want to shoot you, Red, but if you give me no other choice—”
“Shoot me, then,” Red interrupted, throwing James a hard look. “Ya might as well. It’s ashamed I am to be the brother of this miserable cur.” He turned back to stare long and hard at Kiernan. “Ya picked yar side of this fight, and now ya have to live with it.”
“All I want is for ya to listen for once,” Kiernan defended. “Our mum, God rest her soul, always told ya to stop fightin’ long enough to see if anyone was still a-standin’. I swear, ya’d fight on whether we were all dead or not.”
“It’s me or him,” Red whispered, his voice heavy with rage. “Yar choosin’ yar side here and now.”
Kiernan’s stomach churned and his chest tightened. One look into his brother’s fiery green eyes told him it was true. Their da had once told them a story about lookin’ into the eyes of a dragon. He said that every man had to come to a point where he took a stand and met life’s dragons face-to-face. If fear drove him back and caused him to set his standards aside, then he wasn’t a man at all. But if he stood his ground, even feeling the heat of the dragon’s breath upon him, and looked the dragon in the eye, then and only then could he call himself a man. Kiernan was looking the dragon in the eye and his time had come. He never thought his dragon would be his own brother, but to cower now would mean to lose all hope of self-respect—but to stand unmoved would mean to lose his brother. Maybe forever.
“I have no desire to fight ya on this,” Kiernan told Red. Red stepped back a pace as though confident that Kiernan had made a choice to remain at his side. Kiernan quickly ended any hope of that, however, with his next words. “But James Baldwin is worth hearin’ out. Yar way of doin’ things is only leadin’ to heartache and destruction.”
Red was obviously stunned as Kiernan snugged his cap down on his head and turned to walk away.
“Yar no brother of mine,” Red called after him.
Kiernan felt as though a knife were plunged deep in his heart. All of his life he had looked up to Red, admired him for his ability to get things done. He was a true leader, but his prejudices tainted his thinking and made his judgments unwise.
For the next few hours, Kiernan merely walked. He crossed the rails and headed down toward the river, hoping, even praying, for some form of solace. It seemed as if the world had been silenced around him, and the only thing he could hear was the pounding question in his head:
What have I done?
He had sided with a stranger against his kin. Not only that, but he had done so publicly. Everyone—Connaughtmen, Corkmen— all of them had heard the declaration. But James wasn’t a stranger. He was the father of the girl he loved and one day hoped to marry. Victoria knew of his difficulties with Red. He’d told her on more than one occasion of his fear that one day Red’s temper would lead to his death. Victoria understood and was sympathetic. She was still terribly young, but she had the heart of a woman. She thought long and hard about her answers to his questions of what she wanted out of life. She was never one who was given to flippantly flirting and passing the time in idle chatter. Victoria cared about his brothers and sisters. Including Red.
“Yar no brother of mine.”
The words echoed over and over in his heart. Red would sever their relationship with no more than those few words. And he meant them. No doubt when they returned to Greigsville, Red would demand he clear his things out of the new one-room cabin they had built together. It hadn’t been much, but it was a whole sight better than living in a tent.
When night fell, Kiernan made his way back into town. He barely noticed the laughter coming from the saloons, or the conversations of those around him. He walked first up one side of the main street and then started down the other, only to realize that he really had no place to go. Sitting down on a bench in front of one of the hotels, he contemplated his situation for a while.
“Kiernan?”
He looked up to find James Baldwin standing not three feet away. “Evenin’,” he said, trying to force a smile.