white napkin. “’Twas the damnedest thing I ever saw, the carpenters and such a’ridin’ up like they did. Just set to building with nary a word. Picked the spot and everything.”
Branch licked his lips, then winked at Katie after swallowing a particularly succulent bite of meat. “In town they’re saying Trahern’s your new partner. How did you come to know the man?”
Daniel chimed in, “That’s the damnedest thing about it.”
“Daniel Benjamin Gallagher!” Katie warned.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s the darndest thing about it. We can’t remember. Supposedly, he stayed here a couple years back and he and Da shared a bit of the Irish.”
“Just a wee bit, I’m sure,” John added, frowning.
Even Katie smiled at that. Daniel continued his story. “Anyway, Mr. Trahern has enough money to choke a horse, and he was traveling through Nacogdoches when he heard about the fire. He remembered Da’s hospitality, so he hired the men and bought the materials and sent them our way, asking only that we pay him back out of the profits from the inn.” Daniel turned to Katie. “Is there a saint named Finian?”
Katie very carefully sliced her turkey into tiny pieces. Absently, she nodded. “Fifth or sixth-century Ireland. St. Patrick’s successor.”
“Maybe our Finian’s not a saint; maybe he’s a leprechaun. What do you think. Da?”
John made a show of pondering the question. “Well, son, you may be right. Mayhap I found a pot-o’-gold and never knew it. What are you thinking, Katie-love?”
“I’m thinking I’d feel much better had we met the man. What sort of person makes this type of arrangement with strangers? It makes no sense. It worries me.”
Branch asked casually, “Did you sign anything?”
“Yes,” John answered. “He sent a contract through an attorney. A straightforward agreement it was. Katie, you read it, you needn’t be so fretful. ’Twasn’t charity—after all, I wouldn’t be taking charity. Trahern’ll earn a good profit from this deal.”
Katie shrugged as she passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to their dinner guest. “I just wish I could remember him. Tell me, Branch. Why would Finian Trahern help the Gallaghers?”
Branch took his third helping of potatoes and passed the bowl to Daniel. He stared solemnly at Katie and answered, “Maybe when he was here, you helped him in some way. Maybe his money is all he is able to offer in return.”
“You think so?”
He nodded brusquely and returned his attention to his plate. The way he pushed the food around gave Katie cause to wonder if she’d missed something in the exchange. No , she told herself, he’s just full, finally .
Frowning slightly, she said, “I’ve molasses cookies for dessert if anyone cares for some.”
Three male faces beamed at her.
CROUCHING IN the shadows of the forest as the last red tints of sundown flame edged the sky, a man continued his vigil on the Gallagher homestead. Since his arrival earlier that afternoon, he’d watched and speculated at the activity he beheld. Soon now he would ask his questions and hear the answers he’d traveled so far to find.
Illuminated by the frosted light of the rising moon, a bead of nervous sweat dripped down his temple and fell onto his bare shoulder. He’d shed his traveling costume soon after leaving the more populated lands around Nacogdoches. Now he wore the clothing of his youth. Dangerous, certainly, to dress as such in East Texas, but the declaration came from within. Even the weather conspired with his soul, a pleasing change from the bitter north.
During the long afternoon he’d witnessed the commotion as the laborers put finishing touches on the new structure and departed. He’d wondered as one stranger remained behind, his familiarity with Kathleen obvious and troubling.
Nighttime had arrived. Soon he’d have his answers.
But would he have the help he so desperately needed?
THE AROMA of roasted turkey lingered in the air
Branch licked his lips, then winked at Katie after swallowing a particularly succulent bite of meat. “In town they’re saying Trahern’s your new partner. How did you come to know the man?”
Daniel chimed in, “That’s the damnedest thing about it.”
“Daniel Benjamin Gallagher!” Katie warned.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s the darndest thing about it. We can’t remember. Supposedly, he stayed here a couple years back and he and Da shared a bit of the Irish.”
“Just a wee bit, I’m sure,” John added, frowning.
Even Katie smiled at that. Daniel continued his story. “Anyway, Mr. Trahern has enough money to choke a horse, and he was traveling through Nacogdoches when he heard about the fire. He remembered Da’s hospitality, so he hired the men and bought the materials and sent them our way, asking only that we pay him back out of the profits from the inn.” Daniel turned to Katie. “Is there a saint named Finian?”
Katie very carefully sliced her turkey into tiny pieces. Absently, she nodded. “Fifth or sixth-century Ireland. St. Patrick’s successor.”
“Maybe our Finian’s not a saint; maybe he’s a leprechaun. What do you think. Da?”
John made a show of pondering the question. “Well, son, you may be right. Mayhap I found a pot-o’-gold and never knew it. What are you thinking, Katie-love?”
“I’m thinking I’d feel much better had we met the man. What sort of person makes this type of arrangement with strangers? It makes no sense. It worries me.”
Branch asked casually, “Did you sign anything?”
“Yes,” John answered. “He sent a contract through an attorney. A straightforward agreement it was. Katie, you read it, you needn’t be so fretful. ’Twasn’t charity—after all, I wouldn’t be taking charity. Trahern’ll earn a good profit from this deal.”
Katie shrugged as she passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to their dinner guest. “I just wish I could remember him. Tell me, Branch. Why would Finian Trahern help the Gallaghers?”
Branch took his third helping of potatoes and passed the bowl to Daniel. He stared solemnly at Katie and answered, “Maybe when he was here, you helped him in some way. Maybe his money is all he is able to offer in return.”
“You think so?”
He nodded brusquely and returned his attention to his plate. The way he pushed the food around gave Katie cause to wonder if she’d missed something in the exchange. No , she told herself, he’s just full, finally .
Frowning slightly, she said, “I’ve molasses cookies for dessert if anyone cares for some.”
Three male faces beamed at her.
CROUCHING IN the shadows of the forest as the last red tints of sundown flame edged the sky, a man continued his vigil on the Gallagher homestead. Since his arrival earlier that afternoon, he’d watched and speculated at the activity he beheld. Soon now he would ask his questions and hear the answers he’d traveled so far to find.
Illuminated by the frosted light of the rising moon, a bead of nervous sweat dripped down his temple and fell onto his bare shoulder. He’d shed his traveling costume soon after leaving the more populated lands around Nacogdoches. Now he wore the clothing of his youth. Dangerous, certainly, to dress as such in East Texas, but the declaration came from within. Even the weather conspired with his soul, a pleasing change from the bitter north.
During the long afternoon he’d witnessed the commotion as the laborers put finishing touches on the new structure and departed. He’d wondered as one stranger remained behind, his familiarity with Kathleen obvious and troubling.
Nighttime had arrived. Soon he’d have his answers.
But would he have the help he so desperately needed?
THE AROMA of roasted turkey lingered in the air
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