20

For Kevin, once the others left, time became a quarrelsome foe.

When he opened the shop two hours late, a line had already formed outside his door. Word had spread with the night that the shop had received another shipment. Kevin stopped offering drams to the paying customers because there was neither need nor an assistant to help him keep track of who had already plied the battered tin cup. There were a few grumbles at being refused the customary sample. But these quieted when Kevin invited them to come back another day. If there were any jugs left.

Kevin realized he had missed lunch when shadows began ensnaring the road beyond his open doorway. His leg throbbed in a manner that he could only describe as loud. He was about to stop for a much-needed break when the customers halted their friendly banter. A silence settled as swift as a hand closing upon their collective necks.

A brute of a man in a dusty suit and silk foulard stepped through the doorway and smiled in a manner that only heightened the danger in his eyes. “This establishment is closed for the day.”

His name was Michael Farrier, and he was known throughout the region as a man not to be crossed. He had been pointed out to Kevin on a number of occasions, but this was the first time they had ever met in person.

Farrier said, “You had to be expecting a visit from me sooner or later.”

Kevin tried to match the man’s casual nature. “I thought you’d send your muscle to fetch me.” The same muscle who stood just inside Kevin’s front door. And another out front on the street, telling one and all to go away.

“That would do with most of the folks around here. But you and your lot, you’re deserving a different level of attention.” Farrier was neither tall nor broad, but his strength was as evident as his latent fury. His smile kept lifting the edges of his beard and crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Would you care to hazard a guess as to why?”

Kevin knew an order when he heard one, no matter how smoothly stated. “You knew we were discussing possible arrangements with two Overpass merchants.”

“Without even asking if I’d be willing to offer you a better sort of deal.” Farrier played at astonishment. “Did they come with an army, I wondered? Or perhaps some written pass from the authorities to the south? Not that I give a whit what Mayor Silas Fleming thinks, nor his dog Hollis.”

Kevin found himself liking the man, which he knew was as dangerous as trying to pet an asp. Perhaps more so. “How can I help you?”

“Straight to the point. I like that, young man. It shows intelligence, not wanting to waste my time.” Farrier chopped the air between them. “Why don’t we see just how far this intelligence goes, lad. Tell me why I’m here.”

“Our product is the best you’ve ever tasted. It’s robbing your three taverns of business. You want to make sure your competitors don’t share in the spoils.”

“Now that’s the first error you’ve made,” he said. “Michael Farrier has no competitors. None still breathing, that is.”

“Other tavern owners, then,” Kevin amended. “Strong enough to offer us a deal and keep you at arm’s length.”

Farrier leaned back in his seat. “Go on.”

“You want us to go out of business.” Kevin could speak without hesitation because he had spent many dark hours thinking of little else. “You want all the product for yourself.”

This time Farrier’s smile was broad enough to reveal a gold incisor. “You’ve given this some thought. Now tell me why you’d be willing to accept my offer.”

“Because we want to make Overpass our home,” Kevin said. “And because you can protect our future loads from Hollis and his toads.”

“Wolves, more like. Hollis and his boyos can’t allow you to ply the road unchallenged. Unless I help pave your way. And defang the wolves, as it were.”

Kevin waited.

“You’ve impressed me, young man. And Michael Farrier doesn’t impress easy. So tell me where all this is headed.”

“You want a partnership,” Kevin said. “You offer us protection on the road and sale of all the wares we can produce. Shield us here in Overpass. Give us a place to store what wealth we don’t carry back to Catawba. For a thirty percent cut.”

“I was thinking more in the order of two-thirds,” Farrier said.

“No you weren’t.”

Farrier inspected him, and for once the genteel veil slipped away, revealing the cunning beast who had clawed his way to the top of the Overpass merchant community. “Half the proceeds, split down the middle, and don’t you dare object. Because you know full well I’ll be handing over half of a higher price than you’d ever get on your own.”

Kevin felt as though he was sticking his good hand through the bars of a lion’s cage. “Deal.”

Michael Farrier and his guards departed at sunset. The door to Kevin’s shop remained open, but the customers did not return. Only then did the nearness of danger impact him. Kevin knew the potency of such aftershocks. Back when he was working the underground network, the hour after he returned to safety was the hardest. Just like now.

Kevin’s leg pained him badly. The prospect of climbing the stairs and making his solitary dinner seemed an insurmountable task. So he sat in the shop and watched the dust motes dance in the warm golden light, and found himself thinking about the woman he had loved and lost.

Louisa had broken off their engagement nine and a half months back. Gradually the pain and loss had diminished, and now he could look back and say that she had been right to depart. Because no matter how much they had loved one another, Kevin was certain he would never have given Louisa what she wanted most.

She sought the good life. She wanted a house with a yard. She wanted a trellis adorned with teacup roses. Pink was her favorite color, but white would do. Two children, a boy and a girl. Two dogs. Dinner parties with children playing in their back garden, while she and her guests laughed by candlelight.

Louisa had loved making such plans with Kevin. He had mostly listened, offering little besides encouragement. She accused him of lacking imagination. In truth, Kevin had admired her ability to ignore the world as it was and color her future with old-fashioned hopes.

As dusk settled and the shadows beyond his doorway lengthened, Kevin recalled how his mother had treated Louisa with the same courteous distance she gave her students. In return, Louisa had confessed to finding Abigail tiresome. Now he assumed his mother had recognized what Kevin and Louisa had both stubbornly refused to accept. That Louisa would do whatever it took to obtain her goals. And Kevin would not.

Arguments with Louisa over his and Abigail’s refugee work had grown ever more heated. Louisa had claimed to despise the danger Kevin endured for complete strangers. Finally a tearful and heartbroken Louisa had broken off their engagement, saying that she refused to stay and watch him die.

But as Kevin rose from the stool and limped over to lock the front door, he knew the real reason was something else entirely. Louisa had finally come to realize that he would never, not for an instant, sacrifice his principles to obtain a shred of the luxury she so desperately sought.

What distressed him most of all was also the reason she had come to mind after all this time. He knew there was a very good chance Louisa had betrayed him. He had heard that she had recently become engaged to one of the Charlotte city councillors. The timing was too closely tied to his meeting with Mayor Fleming and Hollis. It was all too easy to imagine Louisa sharing what she knew of his secret nocturnal activities . . .

His bitter musings were interrupted by a tap on the door.

Kevin was midway to the stairs. He turned and shouted, “We’re closed!”

The outsider responded with another quiet, rapid tapping.

He limped his way back across the shop, pulled back the bolts, and froze.

A frightened young woman peered up at him. “Please tell me you remember who I am.”