Chapter 19 #2
“I haven’t gotten a response.” Her shoulders drooped. “Yet. There hasn’t been enough time.”
Annamae stood and walked twenty feet to the nearest spruce. The circumference of its trunk easily made four of her. She leaned against it, facing the town lying in the valley below.
Monty joined her. “Are you angry with me?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Of course not.” She turned and placed her hand on his chest, and her eyes immediately widened in shock at her action. Before she could pull away in embarrassment, he caught her hand and held it against his heart. He wanted her to feel this comfortable with him.
She sighed. “My behavior is despicable.”
“Because you rejected my kiss?” He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”
“What? No. The last thing you make me feel is uncomfortable. I’m despicable for taking my frustration out on you.”
He shrugged. “Aggravation is a part of life. At times, part of a relationship.”
“Clara says I have an unhealthy balance between crusader and nurturer. I let one overshadow the other.” She inhaled a deep breath. “To be clear, I wasn’t rejecting your affection. I wanted you to know what I’d done so there’d be no secrets between us.”
Guilt slithered across Monty’s shoulders like a predatory snake. “Then I have some confessing to do as well.”
He lowered their hands to rest beside them. “I know who the club members are. Not all of them, but some.”
“What?”
He silenced her outraged shock by pressing a finger gently to her lips.
“My background afforded me entrance into the most prominent circles of society. I know those men, Annamae, and what they’re capable of.
I know you want to seek justice for what they’ve caused here.
For your father. But I don’t want you involved. ”
Releasing her hand, he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“When you asked me that day at the commissary if Carnegie, Frick, Reed, and Mellon had contributed to the survivors, it’s because they’re members, aren’t they?”
He sighed. “Among others. The anonymity of their club was so important to them, they convinced a judge to let them file their charter at the Court of Common Pleas in Allegheny County instead of at the Cambria County courthouse as Pennsylvania law demands. They’ll go to great lengths to keep their names cleared. ”
“We need to tell someone, Monty. If the judges don’t know who they are, how can they convict them?”
He returned their joined hands to his chest. “The lawsuits filed are against the club, not the individual members. If the courts find the club guilty, a judge will subpoena the membership list. That will force them to reveal themselves. And keep you safe.”
She dropped her hand in frustration. “But if the public knew the names of the club members, they could file lawsuits against them individually instead of the club itself and see justice served.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Lawsuits can’t be filed on specific members since the fault lies with negligence by the entire club, not just certain members.”
“Yes, but this Colonel Unger, he—”
“Owns a farm beside the club and helps to oversee the club’s property as the club’s president.
From what I hear, he collapsed after watching the dam crumble and had to be carried back to his house.
His health has failed since. The structure of the dam wasn’t in his jurisdiction. The fault doesn’t lie with him.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away.
“Listen.” Monty lowered his voice, sidling up behind her.
He put his hands on her shoulders, relishing the feel of her.
“I read in the paper this morning that another investigation has been opened into why the club applied for a mortgage for improvements days before the dam collapsed. The theory is they knew the dam was dangerous and finally planned to repair it. The country is outraged. There will be lawsuits filed for months if not years. Their actions will catch up with them. We need to be patient.”
She swiped at her cheek. “If I can’t help ensure these men go down for their crimes, then my work here has been for nought.”
His spirit deflated. Her hunger for justice went much deeper than the folks of Johnstown. She wanted revenge for her father.
“Look at me.” He spun her around and lifted her chin with his finger. “You came here with the Red Cross to help and to heal, and you’re doing a wonderful job. Without you, I’d probably still be wandering around in a shocked stupor. Your work here has been vital. For others, but especially to me.”
She tucked her head against his shoulder.
He pressed her against him and held tight, rubbing circles on her back.
“We mustn’t forget that the Lord died for the rich and the privileged too.
” She stiffened beneath his palm. “Promise me you’ll keep what I shared with you today in confidence. Let me protect you,” he whispered.
She lifted her head until their lips were inches apart.
Her cheek was like velvet. His touch made her eyelids flutter closed.
Oh, how he wanted to lean in and attempt that kiss again, but he would wait.
Her emotions were vulnerable in this moment, and when he kissed her, he wanted her mind and heart clear.
He settled for her cheek instead, just above the corner of her mouth. “Come on. Let’s enjoy the rest of the day.”
They explored the forest, strolling along the patches of violets and ferns blossoming between the trees.
The air smelled of honeysuckle with a faint trace of smoke.
He asked her about working with Clara Barton, her life in Washington, what her apartment was like, and what she enjoyed doing with friends when she wasn’t working.
After a while, they went back to the blanket and snacked on the berries and cheese they’d brought along.
He described the layout of Johnstown the way it had been on the day of the parade, pointing to various parts of town.
“Why are the tree trunks black where the edges of town meet the tree line?” she asked.
“The mills. Their smoke chokes the air, robbing the trees of the oxygen they need. I’m surprised any of them survived. The flood mowed many of them down because their roots are so weak.”
She tilted her head. “If the smoky air does that to the trees, think of what it’s doing to people.”
“Without the mills, there’s no work. Without work, there’s no people, and Johnstown becomes a ghost town.”
Hours passed like minutes as they took their time learning about each other through questions and stories.
When evening waned, they walked back to town, her hand nestled in the crook of his arm.
As they neared the Red Cross tents, the first of the streetlights flickered on.
How he’d missed something as simple as gaslight.
That small flame lit the road to recovery, which ignited a little more hope.
At her tent, he handed her the blanket she’d borrowed from the warehouse. “Thank you for spending the day with me, Annamae.”
She yawned, then giggled. “Sorry. I’m just so relaxed.”
“I’m glad.”
“Next Sunday, then?” Expectation sparkled in her eyes.
“I’ll be counting the days.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand then entered the tent, giving him one last lingering look before disappearing completely. My, she was beautiful. Though he hated the circumstances in which they’d met, he’d never regret their meeting.
Refraining from the upbeat tune his lips wanted to whistle, he strolled in the direction of the church.
Folks milled about, many heading to the two Red Cross hotels.
A third was in progress, predicted to be completed within a fortnight.
He turned the corner, and a face in the crowd made him stumble.
He hoped his vision was playing some kind of cruel trick.
A hulking man with a black mustache and thick eyebrows glared at him from the back side of the old depot.
Knuckles.
Alarm zinged up Monty’s spine. He didn’t know what the man’s real name was, but he’d recognize his uncle’s henchman anywhere. Uncle Henry had a few thugs he rotated depending on the situation, and Knuckles was the most ruthless.
Monty turned and raced through the alleyway, weaving between shacks and debris piles, bonfires and drunkards.
He had to be the reason the man was here.
He dashed into the church and pressed against the wall, letting the darkness swallow his shadow.
Through the window, he saw Knuckles crest the knoll in front of the building, look both ways, and then head in the opposite direction.
Monty released a breath.
Uncle Henry had finally responded to his letter, and this was his answer. This was why Monty didn’t want Annamae involved. A slight thing like Annamae would vanish, and no one would ever know what became of her. His uncle always silenced those who spoke too loudly.
And Monty had yelled.
He slid against the wall until his backside was flush with the dirt floor.
The long week caught up with him, and eventually he dozed, chin against his chest, until the sound of breaking glass jarred him awake.
Raucous laughter followed. Someone bellowed a warning to stay off their property.
Lizzie Thompson’s place. The one business that hadn’t slowed since the disaster.
Cracking his neck, Monty stood, trying to decide whether to wait the night here or sneak back to the hotel. There he’d have safety in numbers.
An instant later, a hard fist connected with his jaw. He didn’t need to decide anything. His uncle’s henchman had decided for him.