A Girl Like That Read online

  Her eyes shifted with uncertainty then looked fully into his own, nearly robbing him of the ability to breathe. “If it’s not an inconvenience,” she said in a tiny voice. “I could use a ride to the theater.” The feel of her tiny gloved hand filled him with awe as he helped her into the carriage.

  He urged the horse to a trot and glanced at her with a smile.

  A pink blush washed over her face, and she gave him a sweet smile. “Mr. Nelson, I feel I should explain why I haven’t accepted any of your invitations when you’ve been so kind.” She gave a slight cough.

  “You owe me no explanation, Miss O’Shannon. You have a right to refuse me if you please.”

  “But you see, I would have accepted if it were up to me.” Once more the pretty blush caressed her cheeks.

  “What do you mean?” He hoped his eagerness didn’t startle her.

  “My father has forbidden me to accept invitations from any young man without his approval. And after all, he doesn’t even know you.”

  Sam tried hard to control the grin that started in his heart and worked its way to his lips. But it was a hopeless task. “Well,” he said, “we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”

  Seven

  Katie jumped out of the carriage before the young man had a chance to assist her. If her father saw her, there was no telling what he’d do. Oh, why hadn’t she asked Mr. Nelson to drop her off a block away from the theater?

  She heard his startled exclamation as her feet hit the street, and she turned, throwing him an apologetic look. “Thank you so much for the ride. It was very kind of you, but I must be going.”

  She started off toward the side of the building, hoping to avoid anyone she knew. At the sight of Bobby and Molly standing at the corner, she groaned and stopped.

  Bobby shot a glare at Mr. Nelson, who still sat in his carriage, watching her. “Who’s that?” Bobby demanded, sending Katie a reproachful look.

  “Why, he’s an acquaintance of mine, Bobby Brown, if it’s any of your business.” She frowned at him, and he turned and stalked off.

  “Ah, poor, poor Bobby. Now you’ve gone and broken his heart.” Molly grinned and looked pointedly at the carriage and its occupant.

  Katie felt heat rise to her face. Why in the world was he still sitting there? “Well, I don’t know how his heart could be broken,” Katie retorted. “I’ve never given him reason to think I was interested in anything but friendship.” Well, maybe she had flirted a little bit. A pang of conscience stabbed her as she remembered her ploy to get information from him about Conley’s Patch.

  “If you say so, dear.” Molly rounded the corner of the building.

  Katie’s heart thumped. She didn’t need to look back to know he was still there, watching her. But she looked anyway. Land’s sake. What was he doing?

  He tipped his hat and grinned.

  Katie waved and then bolted around the corner, her stomach doing little flips. Stepping through the open door into the theater, she couldn’t help the smile that tilted her lips.

  “I saw that.” Molly was waiting for her just inside the door.

  Setting her chin, Katie sent Molly what she hoped was a firm look. “Mr. Nelson is merely an acquaintance. Not even a friend, much less a suitor.”

  Molly laughed. “Hey, I’m only fooling. Don’t get riled up, now.”

  In the crowded dressing room, Katie made her way past women getting ready for the afternoon performances. She hurried to get into her costume then sat at a dressing table to apply her makeup.

  Oh, what had she done? She knew better than to accept a ride from a man who was practically a stranger. When her father found out, and he would, he’d likely put her on the first train back to the farm. Katie cringed at the thought. But there was no getting around it. She had to tell him herself. Right after the show.

  For the first time, she didn’t enjoy performing. Her heart didn’t soar as it usually did when she sang her solo, and she recited her lines without feeling. As soon as she’d made her final exit, she rushed to the dressing room and poured her heart out to Bridget.

  “Now, now. Don’t be frettin’ so. After all, your da would probably rather you took the ride than be walking down the streets of the Patch. What with all the—” The girl stopped and gave Katie a curious look. “What do you think a fine young gentleman would be doing at Conley’s Patch?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe he had business there.” She frowned. What was Bridget getting at?

  “At the Patch? What sort of business would he be in?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know. How should I?”

  “If he’s going to be hanging around you, you’d best be finding out everything you can about him. Including his business.” Bridget’s eyes widened. “He could be a gambler or even criminal of some sort. They often look like gentlemen.”

  “Bridget, you’re scaring me.”

  “Well, and I mean to. A girl can’t be too careful, after all.”

  Katie sighed. “Guess I needn’t worry about it. If my father doesn’t send me away, he’ll watch me like a hawk.”

  “I won’t be arguing with you about that.” Bridget darted a sympathetic look at her.

  Just then, the rest of the women flocked into the room, and Katie took a deep breath. The show was over. There was no putting it off any longer.

  She found her father removing the paint from his face.

  “Katie, my girl.” He sprang from the chair and planted a kiss on her cheek. “It’s glad I am you came to see me. You’re usually running off someplace before I can hardly say hello and good-bye.”

  “You’re stretching the truth, Pa, and well you know it.” Katie smiled, relieved to find him in a good mood. Maybe he wouldn’t be so angry after all.

  “Pa, there’s something I need to tell you.” She cleared her throat and swallowed.

  “Well, and here I am. What is it?”

  “Please don’t be angry with me, because I’m very sorry.”

  He frowned and peered at her. “Have you been spending too much of me hard-earned money now? Is that it?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I have my own money now.” The very idea.

  “That hasn’t been stopping you from spending mine, too, now, has it?” He patted her on the arm. “But I don’t mind a bit, my Katie girl. So don’t be fretting.”

  Maybe she should let well enough alone. After all, there was no harm done. She gave her father a tremulous smile and turned to go. No, it would be much worse if he found out from someone else. She turned and faced him again. “I accepted a ride to the theater from a young man this afternoon.”

  “Ah yes. You’ll be referring to Mr. Nelson. I thanked him nicely for rescuing my daughter from the streets of shantytown.” He pursed his lips and scowled. “And how many times have I told you not to be walking around Conley’s Patch by yourself?”

  Katie gasped. He told her father? But how was that possible? “When did he tell you?”

  “Right after he dropped you off at the door. He wanted me to know why you were in his carriage. A fine upstanding young lawyer, he is. And very concerned that I might get the wrong idea.”

  Gladness and relief rose up in Katie’s heart. An attorney. Good. So he wasn’t a criminal, after all. “And you don’t mind that I accepted a ride from him?”

  “Not after he explained that he was a patron of Harrigan’s and recognized you from your performance.” He glared at her again. “He was concerned you might be accosted. Otherwise, such a fine young gentleman would have never suggested such a thing.”

  ❧

  Sam whistled through the grin that wouldn’t leave his face as he walked into the office. Michael O’Shannon was a good man and a grateful father.

  It had been obvious Katie hadn’t wanted to be se
en in his carriage. When he saw her talking to a couple of performers outside the theater, he knew he had to avert scandal. And perhaps get on her father’s good side at the same time. It had been a streak of genius that led him to reveal to Katie’s father that he’d given her a lift. Instead of being angry at his daughter and thinking the worst of Sam, he had slapped Sam on the back and thanked him for taking care of Katie.

  Now, if Sam could only be patient and let O’Shannon get to know him better, he thought he had a pretty good chance of winning the protective father over so he could court his daughter.

  Charlie Jenkins looked up from his desk and gave him a nod. “Glad to see you in a good mood, sir. Your father wants to see you. He said as soon as you got here.”

  “Uh-oh. Is it bad?”

  Charlie glanced around and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t want to say, Mr. Nelson, but I will say he didn’t seem very happy.”

  “Well, nothing is going to spoil my mood.” Sam headed to his father’s office, wondering what he’d done. “Charlie said you wanted to see me.”

  The senior Mr. Nelson turned slowly and peered at Sam through narrowed eyes. “Jeremiah Howard, your client, waited for you for some time. Would you mind divulging where you’ve spent your afternoon?”

  Sam looked at his father in surprise. “I don’t remember an appointment with Howard.”

  “That’s beside the point. If you’d been in the office, he could have spoken to you instead of railing at me for two hours.”

  “I went to see Flannigan again. Something just isn’t ringing true to me.” He picked up a newspaper from his father’s desk and riffled through it.

  “So, did you get anything out of the man?”

  Sam continued to scan the newspaper, wondering what to say. “Father, Chauncey Flannigan doesn’t seem like a con man to me.”

  When his father didn’t say anything, Sam looked up and met silence.

  Eugene Nelson eyed his son. “Don’t forget who our client is, Samuel.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Very well. Send a messenger boy to Howard’s office with an appointment for tomorrow.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Sam dispatched the messenger then sat at his desk, tapping his fingers against the oak desktop. His father was right. Whatever he personally thought about Howard, he was representing the man and needed to give him his best. He’d been meaning to visit the lumberyard and speak to some of the employees and decided that would be the first thing on his agenda in the morning. While he was there, he’d try to meet the foreman who’d been on duty that day.

  Sam leaned back and considered what else could be accomplished while he was in the area. The two tavern witnesses who’d given statements needed to be spoken to. It wouldn’t do for them to waver in their accounts of the fight.

  Taking a legal pad from his desk drawer, Sam made a list of questions for the men he hoped to interview. He also intended to look over conditions at the lumber mill and make sure there was nothing to which an accusing finger could be pointed.

  The shuffling of feet and opening and closing of file cabinets announced the office was getting ready to close for the day.

  Cramming his pad into his briefcase, Sam stood and made his way to the front, amid friendly good-byes. The thought of seeing Katherine quickened his steps. He was relieved to see that Charlie had sent someone to the livery to bring his horse and carriage around.

  As he rode home in the stifling heat, he glanced up, hoping for the sight of a rain cloud. It was the middle of September. But the driest September Sam could remember.

  When he arrived at home, he found his mother in the kitchen supervising dinner preparations.

  “Sam, dear. We’re having guests for dinner. Could you possibly bring the ice cream freezer out? Everything is mixed and ready to go. You have time to crank out a batch before you change, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course, Mother. Let me go hang up my suit coat.” When he came back downstairs, he went to the storage room off the kitchen and took his mother’s pride and joy out of its box.

  She poured the mixture of cream, sugar, and vanilla into the container and added salt and cracked ice to the freezer.

  Sam started cranking. “Who are the guests, Mother?”

  “Oh, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. The Langleys’ niece, Martha, is visiting, and Ella wants her to meet young people her own age. I told her I was certain you would be happy to meet Martha and perhaps introduce her to some of your friends.”

  Sam grinned, amused at another of his mother’s attempts to help him find her future daughter-in-law. She’d been hinting for some time that he should be settling down. She’d be quite surprised if she knew he had already chosen his future bride. “Yes, of course, Mother. I’d be happy to show her around, but I have plans for tonight.”

  She held both hands up to her pretty, plump face. “Oh dear. I should have checked with you first. But I’m sure they’ll be leaving by nine. Would that upset your plans? I’ll be so embarrassed if you can’t be here.”

  When Sam saw his mother’s hopeful expression, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing Katherine O’Shannon tonight.

  Eight

  Katie walked into the stifling room and held her breath, trying not to gag from the smell of cabbage and onions steaming from a pot on top of the small stove in the corner. The one-room, run-down shack contained two beds pushed up against opposite walls. A threadbare, faded quilt lay neatly folded at the end of each bed, and twin rickety chests stood side by side against the front wall. Four chairs, with sagging seats, hugged the uncovered table near the back door.

  A colorful painting of an Irish meadow on the wall above the table, the only suggestion of color or beauty in the neat but drab room, caught Katie by surprise. As she followed Bridget and her mother, she noticed the dirt floor was swept clean and smooth. Mrs. Thornton opened the back door, and Katie sighed with relief as they walked out into the small backyard and she inhaled fresh air.

  About a dozen women stood in clusters of twos and threes, seeming to ignore the nearby hodgepodge of chairs, stools, and wooden barrels.

  A tiny woman, her blue eyes sparkling and black hair pulled back in a bun, turned from two others and hurried over to Mrs. Thornton. “How are ya farin’, Margaret? I hope this heat won’t be too much for ya.”

  “I’m feeling much better. Thank ya, Susan.” The paleness of her lips and dark circles beneath her warm brown eyes belied the brave words, but her neighbor nodded and smiled.

  “It’s glad I am to be hearing it.” She turned to Bridget and patted her on the shoulder. “And here you are working and helping your ma and the wee little one. A good thing.”

  “Mrs. Bailey,” Bridget said, taking Katie’s hand, “I’d like for you to meet my friend Katie O’Shannon.”

  The woman smiled. “It’s pleased I am to meet you, Miss O’Shannon. And happy that you’d be caring about the poor people of Conley’s Patch.”

  Katie blushed. “Please call me Katie, ma’am. And really, it’s just an idea for child care that Bridget and I came up with.”

  “Well, anything to help put food in the mouths of the children is a good idea.”

  Mrs. Thornton shook her head, a worried look on her face. “I’m not sure everyone is agreein’ with you.”

  “Well, and if they’re not, they should be. Now you be sittin’ down and resting yourselves.”

  Katie felt a glow of pride as she sat on a stool next to Bridget. Finally, someone older was taking her seriously.

  The other women gathered around and found seats then looked expectantly at Katie. Her hands sweaty and breath coming in gulps, she threw a frantic glance at Bridget. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Bridget stood and smiled at her friends and neighbors. “I’d like ya all t
o meet my friend Katie O’Shannon. She’s the one who helped me get my job at Harrigan’s.”

  “And proud we are of you, Bridget, dear.” The gray-haired woman smiled sweetly at Bridget.

  “Sure and it’s a shame on you, Granny Laurie, if you’re proud of one of our own lasses a-workin’ in a devil’s den of iniquity.” A woman, just entering the Bailey yard, flashed a hard look at Katie. “And you a-prancin’ around here callin’ yourself Irish and pretending you want to help us.”

  Katie gasped. Had she heard the woman right? Surely not. Most of the ladies were frowning at the woman who’d spoken, but she noticed two or three nodding in agreement.

  Mrs. Bailey stood. “The shame is on you, Bridie McDermott, for insulting a kind young stranger in our midst, as well as our own Bridget Thornton.”

  Katie stood. “Maybe we should leave, Bridget,” she whispered.

  “No.” Bridget grabbed Katie’s arm and tugged her back to her seat. “We’re not going to let that woman and her bitterness keep us from doing what we came to do.”

  Katie, surprised at Bridget’s assertiveness, acquiesced.

  “I hope you’ll stay and listen to what these young girls have to say, Bridie,” Mrs. Bailey continued. “But if you’re only here to cause trouble, you can be leaving.”

  One of the women who’d seemed to agree with Bridie motioned her over to a chair next to her. With a venomous look at Katie, the angry woman walked over and sat down.

  Somehow Katie managed to get through the meeting, letting Bridget do most of the talking. Bridie McDermott was right. Who was she to think she could help these women? Just because she saw a need and felt compassion didn’t mean she could do anything about the problem.

  Shame washed over her. She’d been proud to think they’d listen to her and thank her and tell her how wonderful she was. She saw that now. Humiliation pounded at her temples, and by the time the meeting ended and she and Bridget left, she had a full-blown headache.

  “Katie, they loved the idea of the day care. Did you hear the excitement in their voices?”