Wishes on the Wind (51 page)

    His fateful inclination to walk that familiar hillside path despite his physical discomforts had seemed impulse at first. His first glimpse of the mature Meg, more beautiful than he could have imagined, had aroused painfully confusing emotions. Now, a few weeks later, the confusion was gone but the pain remained.

    He had not seen Meg since then, although his thoughts never strayed far from her. Days and nights during which he had sought to rationalize his feelings had only convinced him that the effort was futile. The whisper of an old torment that he had heard in Meg's voice during their brief meeting resounded in his dreams, and he ached to assuage it. With great difficulty, he had finally admitted to himself that he was vulnerable to Meg in a way he was to no other woman that Meg and he shared an intangible bond which transcended the years they had been apart. More difficult to acknowledge had been the realization that he still loved her.

    But Meg had married someone else.

    past, he had finally managed to save his sanity with the determination that while he knew he could never be totally happy without Meg, he would be content if Meg had truly found the right man to make her life complete.

    
If…

    David ran an anxious hand through his heavy dark hair, aware that he was perspiring more heavily than the heat of the day warranted. Damn, he loved Meg. Why couldn't she have waited? Why couldn't she

    The shrill blast of the colliery whistle interrupted David's thoughts and he frowned unconsciously at the thickening line of miners reporting for the first shift. The second piercing blast had little effect on the miners' pace, and David was aware, as he focused his attention more intently upon them, that for all intents and purposes, it was again business as usual now that the strike had ended.

    The dismal failure of the strike and the knowledge that the miners had returned to work on Gowen's terms had given him little satisfaction, despite his disagreement with the tactic. The strike had been a mistake from the first. Ignorant men with hotheaded leaders were too easily duped into thinking their uncomfortable situation was the fault of others rather than themselves. The strike had garnered its just reward, although he did not believe he had seen the last of the hard feelings resulting from it.

    The informal line of miners below him swelled as David perused their number intently. In their miner's caps and grayed clothing, appearing to feel little discomfort in their heavy gear despite the heat of the day, they all looked alike, and it was difficult to tell one man from the other.

    The whistle shrieked again and David's attention was caught by a large man within the final group making its approach. The fellow's face was indiscernible in the shadow of the cap he wore, but his unusual size easily identified him as Terry Donovan, and David's heart began a slow pounding. A vague satisfaction registered inside him as the man looked up, boldly returning his stare. Walking at his side, Sean O'Connor glanced up as well, but David refused to allow the hatred in those eyes so similar to Meg's to affect him.

    Within a few moments both men had turned toward the transportation lifts to the shafts, but the face of Terry Donovan remained in David's mind as he turned back to his desk and the        mountains of work awaiting him. There was something in the man's common face that left David uneasy; something in his eyes that did not quite fit the opinion generally held of him.

    Aware that his feelings for Meg could easily color his reaction to the man, David forced his mind to the many duties awaiting him. Progress reports, ore evaluations, shipping schedules, reviews of supply contract conditions work that had fallen behind with the former superintendent's abrupt departure had kept him working long into the night since he had formally assumed control of operations. David lowered himself into his chair, and picked up the nearest folder. At the sound of a knock on the door, Captain Linden appeared.

    Immediately on his feet, David waited only until Linden walked into the room before pushing the door closed behind him. Unconsciously noting that the man's blue uniform was properly buttoned up to the throat despite the uncomfortable weather, he frowned. Linden was a policeman to the core.

    Wasting little time on amenities, David viewed the captain's characteristically dour expression with a short, "Well, it's about time."

    "I apologize for the delay, sir, but I needed to confirm a few things with Mr. Gowen before responding to your request."

    Irritation tightened the lines of strain on David's face. "Mr. Gowen instructed you to assist me in any way I asked. I see no need for you to check back with him on every request I make."

    The big policeman did not appear to be affected by David's annoyance. "It's not a question of your authority, sir." Linden's thick features drew into a frown as he continued in a softer tone. "But a man's life is at risk a good man's life and I don't take my responsibility to protect it lightly."

    "I asked for a simple report."

    "There's nothing simple about a report on the men you asked about, sir."

    David was beginning to become angry. "Are you saying you suspect my motives?"

    "No, sir, not for a minute." A faint smile touched Linden's lips. "If you'll pardon my candor, sir, I was in your uncle's confidence. I'm not ignorant of his worries about your friendship with the O'Connor girl. She's a good girl, a credit to her father, and I've no doubt it's concern for her that's caused your inquiry. It's the depth of that concern that left me wary."

    "My personal life is none of your business, Captain!"

    Linden's small eyes challenged him directly. "Aye, it is, when it comes to the request you made of me." Captain Linden gave the room a quick assessing glance. "I'm uncomfortable having this conversation here, where too many can wander in to overhear what we say, so I've taken the precaution of stationing two good men outside the door, if you've no objection to that, sir."

    "Do you think that's necessary?"

    "Aye, I do." The knot in David's stomach tightened as Linden continued after a brief pause. "I've not written a report for fear of its slipping into the wrong hands, so I must deliver it orally."

    His patience fast deteriorating, David responded tightly. "Give me the report any way you prefer, Captain. Just get on with it!"

    "Aye, sir. I'm thinking that what I've to say about Sean O'Connor is no surprise to you. He's a Molly, all right. We estimate he's been in the organization four or five years, and we know for a fact that he's been involved in every major aggressive move the Mollies have made in this area during the last two or three years. He's generally accepted to be a bitter fellow with a taste for vengeance who does not make friends easily. The death of his closest friend in a cave-in two years ago only seemed to make things worse."

    Captain Linden paused, and continued with a tightening frown. "He's one of the men responsible for blowing up the train that brought you here. Word was leaked that the new supervisor was arriving on it and the decision was made that since the strike was going poorly, a gesture was needed to keep the men in line."

    A muscle ticked in David's cheek. "Is this all conjecture, or do you have proof?"

    "It's not conjecture, sir, but fact. But we have no proof, as yet."

    "As yet?"

    "We need a bit more time which brings us to the second report you requested."

    The hackles rose on David's spine as the silence lengthened. "Out with it, man! What about Donovan?"

    His reluctance obvious, Captain Linden began quietly. "Terry Donovan's real name is Terry McGillis. He was a high official in the Ribbonmen in Ireland a real bad one, sir. He made the mistake of becoming too well known, and was finally forced to flee. He was able to get bogus papers and he entered the country as Terry Donovan. Shortly after coming to Shenandoah he joined the organization here. He replaced the current body master after the first six months because of the high regard Jack Kehoe holds for him, and he's been at the head of the organization ever since."

    "Was he involved in the train wreck?"

    "He planned it and helped O'Connor put the plan into effect, sir."

    "I knew it!" David's carefully suppressed fury soaring, he turned and walked toward the window in an attempt to avoid Linden's assessing stare.

    Captain Linden's next words attained startling impact in the silence of the room. "Well, if you knew it, sir, you're in rare company. Everything I just told you about Donovan is a secret from most even his wife."

    David turned back with a snap to face Linden. "How do you know that? How do you know any of this is really true? Maybe it's all a story concocted by your agent in order to extort money from you."

    "Nay, our agent is one of Pinkerton's finest. He's taken his life in his hands to do this work. He's been working in the Shenandoah division long enough to have gained the confidence of the men there, but it's another thing entirely to obtain physical evidence on such a wary group. But we're thinking that it'll only be a few more months before we're able to take most of the men down."

    David gave a short laugh. "And during that time you'll allow business as usual the violence, the murders…"

    "We foil them whenever we can, sir, but we can't put our agent at risk. We need to be patient and I'm asking you to be patient a little longer too, strand to be careful not to repeat a word of what I've just told you. O'Connor's involvement is common knowledge, and he's done his best work by fronting for Donovan. In truth, Donovan's pleasant enough to speak to, and well-liked in general. It's common opinion that he's a steadying influence on Sean, and I'm thinking that's the most ironic part of Donovan's secret. But it's crucial to our agent's safety that Donovan's identity remain a secret until he's ready to reveal it."

    Captain Linden's point was well taken, and David could not fault him. But he
could
resent the man's discerning eye and his unrelenting appraisal. He had had enough.

    "Thank you, Captain." Sober, David extended his hand. "You may rest assured I'll keep everything you've said in mind. Your agent is under no threat from me."

    David watched the door close behind Captain Linden, feeling little satisfaction at having his suspicions about Terry Donovan

    confirmed. For Terry Donovan was Meg's husband, and the same "ifs" remained.
If
Meg loved Terry Donovan,
if
she had found the man to make her life complete, and
if
she was truly happy as his wife, he had no choice in what he must do.

    Breakfast had been served and eaten, the dishes gathered and washed, and Meg was presently involved in stacking them carefully away for the next meal. Turning a glance toward Aunt Fiona, where she carried the last of the freshly baked bread to the pantry for storage, Meg noted that she was already limping although the day had barely begun. And she knew that while her aunt worked on her swollen, throbbing legs, Uncle Timothy was still upstairs, sleeping off the result of a long evening at Murphy's saloon.

    Meg averted her gaze as her aunt turned back toward her, her frustration deepening. Aunt Fiona's life was her own, and Meg knew she need remember that it was not her place to advise her aunt, especially now that her own personal life was in such a turmoil.

    Her face flaming, Meg remembered the deliberation with which she had turned away from Terry the previous night when he sought to take her in his arms. The evidence of his passion had been only too obvious, but no matter his tenderness toward her, she was unable to forget the darker side of him she had glimpsed only briefly. The reality was that her dear Terry was two men. That one of those men was a stranger, numbed her.

    Unwilling to face her thoughts a moment longer, Meg forced a smile to her lips. "I'll be going outside for a while if you won't be needing me, Aunt."

    "Be off with ye, m'dear. The work's done for a few hours, and I'm thinkin' I'll be raisin' me old legs and relaxin' a bit."

    Realizing her aunt's statement had been made for the benefit of her peace of mind, Meg allowed it to go unchallenged. Walking through the back doorway into the yard, Meg paused to look up at the brilliant sky overhead as she tucked a straying wisp back into the coil wound atop her head. Not a cloud in the sky or a breath of air to provide relief from the moisture-laden air that had lain against her skin from the moment of awakening. It would be a long, hot day, and although only just into June, her Ma would have labeled it one of the "dog days" of summer.

    That thought briefly restored Meg's smile as she remembered her confusion at the term when she had first heard it as a child.

    And she remembered the serious expression on Sean's youthful face as he had patiently explained. "Ma means that it's days like this that dogs go mad in the streets, Meg, from the sheer discomfort of it all." And then as her eyes had widened with fear, his hasty, childish reassurance, "But you needn't worry yourself, for we've no dog to be so affected."

    Realizing his reassurance had done little to ease her anxiety, Sean had then leaned down with all the confidence of his seven years to whisper, "Come on, buck up, Meg. I'm a match for any dog in the patch that might turn his eye on you. I'll take care of you. You're my sister, after all."