Katy groomed Clover in the quiet of her barn late that night. Glenn snuffled in his feed bin. Nessa chewed her cud, her calf making suckling noises. Most dairy farmers didn’t keep calves with their mothers longer than a couple days, but Katy kept them fully together for three months. The calf saved her from having an excess of milk when farmers often paid for her veterinary services in dairy products, at least until gardens came in and other produce was available.
Mr. Moore had paid her in hay today, as he had ever since she brought Clover home, and loaded it into her truck while she talked to Lily. Gratefully, the Moore’s farmyard had been empty when she drove away since her mind had been churning ever since.
“It’s curious, don’t ya think, boy?” she whispered to the horse. “Now that I think on it, I reckon Mr. Moore knows more about your previous owner than he lets on, and I don’t get the feelin’ it’s anything good.” Like the milk strike business.
Clover switched his tail and rotated his ears.
“Ah, boy, you know somethin’, too, eh? But I’m needing to coax it out of you like a certain emerald-eyed police officer.” She smiled despite herself. His story today had cracked her defenses, and she wasn’t all that sorry about it. Yes, she was wary—but hopeful he truly was one of the rare good men.
Clover stomped his hoof.
“Right. It’s quite a quandary, Clover, boy.” Katy worked through the horse’s coarse mane with a comb, standing on a stool to reach. “Coming to a new country seems much less scary than lettin’ Joey get close. I know in me head he is different from the other men, but is it enough?”
The rumble of a car brought Katy to the barn door. Clover whinnied and Glenn brayed. Katy clasped the comb tighter, its tines digging into her palm. Fergus Cormac had returned.
The man made his way to her in the dusky evening, sharply dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit. Why did he insist on visiting at this time of night? Did he wish not to be seen visiting her? Maybe he didn’t, if it was true that his father was killed, but something about Mr. Cormac’s story didn’t sit right.
“It is good to see you again, Miss Wells.” Mr. Cormac doffed his bowler, too much charm in his tone.
“Mr. Cormac.” Katy extended him no courtesy. Based on their noise, her animals seemed no more comfortable with his presence than she. “What brings you back?”
“I have word from your uncle.”
That uneasy feeling churned stronger, but instead of retreating to Clover’s side, she held her ground.
“I gave him your answer—that you’d willingly hand over the money, but that wasn’t good enough for him, just as I warned. He crossed the Atlantic and is coming here.”
Katy’s head spun. All possibility that the problem would go away with Mr. Cormac’s absence vanished. Instead, it had grown worse. Much, much worse.
“When he arrives, I can attempt a peaceful negotiation, but I doubt he’ll have any of it.”
Katy tucked her hands under her arms. “How long do I have until he gets here?”
“Days.”
“I need to think.” She kept her voice as strong as possible, though fear snaked through her. “Thank you for warning me, Mr. Cormac.”
“Let me help you come up with a plan.” He reached for her, but she stepped back. Clover smacked the ground with his hooves, and Glenn butted the door of his stall.
“Perhaps tomorrow.” She needed him to leave. Needed space from him to think clearly and for her animals to regain their peace so she could as well.
“We don’t have that much time.” Mr. Cormac frowned. “Surely, you can see there are only a few options. Just handing over the money is no longer one of those. Have you thought about my offer? A marriage of—”
“Good evening, Mr. Cormac.”
He huffed but retreated. “As you wish. I will return in the morning.”
Katy sank to the ground as Mr. Cormac drove away, body trembling too much to hold her up. Nessa and Glenn peered at her over their stall doors. Clover waved his large head, pawing the ground, tail held aloft.
“Easy, boy.” She went to him. Stroking his forelock with trembling fingers calmed her enough for one thought to flash in her mind. Joey. Because something about the whole situation seemed fishy, and Katy knew better than to trust a man to have her best interests in mind.
Except for Joey. After hearing his story today, she knew he would look out for her. Not because he was a policeman or even because she was his twin’s friend, but because Joey Moore was a good man. A man she could trust. And right now, that’s exactly the type of man she needed since her life and livelihood could depend on solving the riddle of Daideó’s inheritance.
Joey snapped up his suspenders before answering the knock at his door. His small apartment kept him in town, which was advantageous as an officer and a volunteer firefighter. However, he rarely got personal visitors except for family members, and he’d already stopped by Lil’s before the vote. She’d kicked him out, too upset over Mom’s dinner ambush to talk to him.
Joey pushed away the personal thoughts as he flung open his door. “Katy?”
“Can we talk?” She gripped her medical bag as if wringing a chicken’s neck and glanced over her shoulder. She wore no jacket over the light, short-sleeved dress, and her hair was tied up in a messy pile. He’d never seen her look this undone, and it scared him more than anything he’d faced before.
“Give me one minute.” He hated leaving her on the step, but he wouldn’t risk her reputation at this time of night. Instead, he left the front door open as he jogged into his bedroom for his vest and jacket and a spare coat for Katy. He snatched his hat and weapon on his way back to the door.
She hadn’t moved.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He wrapped the coat around her shoulders, then cupped her elbow as he led them down the steps that ran along the outside of the building. She pulled free to wrap her arm around his, as if hanging on to keep from drowning.
“Fergus Cormac just paid me a visit.” Her voice trembled as much as her body. If that man laid a hand on her …
He covered her fingers as they dug into his bicep and directed them down the sidewalk. They needed a private place to talk, and he knew just the place. “Can you start at the beginning? What exactly did Cormac tell you?”
She rambled as they walked, and Joey had to press close to her to catch every word beneath her strengthening accent. It brought back memories of their near-kiss, but he pushed them away. Now was not the time.
“Then I came right over to you.” Katy’s breath came in quick gasps as he settled her on a bench in the cemetery behind the church. Gas lamps cast an eerie glow, and the mild air held a cloying tension.
“I’m glad you did.” He sat beside her, then squeezed her hand. Cormac’s actions warned of some deeper plot that did not bode well for Katy’s security. “We’ll figure this out together.”
She nodded. “I’m scared, Joey. Mr. Cormac—I don’t like him. Something isn’t right. I can’t put me finger on it. I don’t know if it’s him as a person or his story or both. I don’t know if I can trust what he’s saying about me uncle. Would he really come all the way from Ireland to get me money? Is the money even real? The lawyer I contacted hasn’t provided any information. If only I hadn’t run away when I heard my uncle threaten to put me in that awful place, I might know the truth.”
“You also might be in a workhouse. You did the right thing, running away. Your freedom is worth whatever money your grandfather left you.”
“You truly believe that, don’t you?”
“You know I do. With all my heart.”
She slid closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her tight and remembering the light in her eyes when she’d called him a good man earlier that day. It humbled him even as the desire to live up to her picture of him swelled his chest.
“Perhaps it’s time I meet this Fergus Cormac.” Joey finally broke the silence that hung between them.
“Och, perhaps it is, but …”
“What is it?”
She raised her head to look at him. “What if it makes it worse? I keep hoping this is all just idle threats. That none of it is real. What if your presence provokes them?”
Joey let the thought sink in before replying. “What is it that makes you believe that?”
“Right now they see me as a weak woman, but if I bring another man into the negotiations, won’t that change their tactics?”
Possibly. Likely. Joey held in a sigh. “Can you tell me more about your uncle?”
“Uncle Patrick, he’s Mother’s brother—Daideó’s son—but two men could not be more different. Where Daideó was patient and gentle, Uncle Patrick was harsh and loud. He liked his pints, and he did not like the agrarian life.” She brushed the fabric of her skirt, though Joey saw no debris. “He worked in the wool factory, working his way up to foreman by the time I left. He was several years older than my mother and refused to acknowledge her as his sister after she was sent away.”
“He seems like the type who would prefer to take your money the easy way.”
“Precisely. Mr. Cormac’s story about that being the reason Uncle Patrick wanted to send me to the laundry makes sense. If there truly is that much money. I can hardly believe that, though. Daideó was a generous man. One of my favorite memories of him was one spring during lambing season.”
If only he could capture the joy that washed over her expression. If only he could make it so that she never need express fear again.
“Somehow, this little lamb got separated from her mother. It bleated and bleated until Daideó found it huddled in the crook of two rocks. He tucked the little thing under his arm and searched the herd until he found the ewe. Not until the pair were happily reconnected did he return to whatever it was that brought him to that farm, no matter his personal inconvenience.”
Joey stayed quiet as she paused to gather herself.
“I’ll never forget how he held that little lamb, the tenderness he showed. He gave of himself, but always in the present. I can’t see him putting money away for later when it could have been put straight to use. He would have been more likely to give it away once it reached his hand. It was his way.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He tightened his arm about her shoulders. “You were his little lamb. He would have made sure you were safe if he couldn’t be there. He knew he couldn’t give money to you until you came of age, and he knew his son. Putting money aside for your independence would be one of the best gifts he could give you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You think he did that?”
“For your sake, I hope he did.”
“But I don’t want the money, Joey. Not if it means Uncle Patrick is holding a grudge. Not if it’s the reason I had to leave Ireland.”
“I agree with you. But if it buys you your freedom?”
Katy wove her fingers together over and over. “You know, Mr. Cormac suggested a marriage of convenience. Do you think he could’ve manufactured a situation where he could force me to marry him? Why else come all the way from Ireland just for little ol’ me? I’ve been gone for fourteen years.”
His stomach churned at the thought. “The answer to that question may be the solution to the problem, and the only way we’ll find out is if we talk to Cormac.”
“We.”
He pressed a knuckle under her chin so she would look at him. “We. No expectations. No strings.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and his heart twisted. How he wished a kiss would show how cherished she was, but he’d made that mistake once already. Instead, he settled for resting his forehead against hers.
She shifted beneath his touch, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. He squeezed his eyes closed as she brushed the lightest of kisses across them. He dare not deepen the moment, so he cupped her cheek and pulled away.
Uncertainty shimmered in her eyes.
“When this is over,”—he ran his thumb over her cheek—“when there is no question of why, then I hope you’ll let me kiss you again.”