For Love of Liberty Page 4

  Say twenty, thirty years.

  “I hired Liberty,” Milo said, voice so low, Finn might have imagined it.

  Finn blinked. Make that the second last thing.

  Milo gave a slight shrug, his crooked smile bordering on an apology. “Just thought you should know, old buddy, since she’ll be working three doors down from you day in and day out.”

  Eyes flicking to where Jo Beth and Bettie stopped to talk to a table of their friends, Finn bent in to hover low over his coffee cup, eyes as hard as the clamp of his jaw. “And just why in tarnation would you think I’d be interested in that, old buddy?”

  Milo sighed and pushed his cup and saucer away, his smile veering toward dry. “Come on, Finn, you and I both know you’ve always had a thing for her, and I dare you to deny it.”

  It was a tossup over which was grinding more—Finn’s teeth or his stomach. “Yeah, I did, Parks, but that so-called ‘thing’ you allude to was a cold chill, my friend, nothing more.”

  “Or a warm one …”

  “Goodness me, sorry we took so long!” Jo Beth said with a little titter. She whooshed into the seat that Finn rose to pull out for her while Milo seated Bettie as well. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “But Charlene had some juicy tidbits for us, didn’t she, Bettie?”

  Her best friend nodded, cheeks flushed with excitement as she leaned close, her voice lowering in volume. “Seems Charlene’s mother saw Debbie Rhoades’ beau in Carson City with another woman.”

  “And Doc Peters thinks Cheryl Herndon is going to have twins.” Jo Beth giggled, offering Finn a shy smile.

  “But the best news is …” Bettie locked eyes with Jo Beth as the two of them shared a grin. “Liberty O’Shea is home from college, but not for long …”

  “What do you mean, ‘not for long’?” Milo said, peering at Bettie through a squint while Finn chugged his water glass clear to the bottom. “I just hired her at the Enterprise, for pity’s sake, so I doubt she’s going anywhere soon.”

  “She is if her father has anything to say about it.” Jo Beth wiggled her brows, raising her chin to eye the chalkboard menu on the wall. “She heard from Mary Lou Tanner, who heard from Kelly Reed Brown, who heard from a friend of Libby’s cousin, that Libby and her father are butting heads again.”

  “Oh, now there’s a headline for you,” Finn muttered to Milo in a dry tone, Liberty’s notorious rows with her father as common as dirt on Main Street.

  Jo Beth paused to give Finn a teasing bat of her eyes. “My, but that peach pie with Flo’s fresh-churned ice cream sounds awfully tempting, doesn’t it, Finn?”

  He laughed and shook his head, waving Flo over. “Not sure how you fit all that food in that tiny body, Miss Templeton, but it’s a darn good thing your daddy gave me that loan.”

  “I know,” she said with a flirty smile that drew his attention to her lush lips, one of the fringe benefits that had come along with the loan, unbeknownst to her father. She gave his arm a light squeeze. “But don’t worry, Finn, there’s plenty more where that came from …”

  “Focus, Jo Beth,” Milo said with a tight smile. “What are Libby and her father going ’round about now?”

  Expelling a weary sigh that registered more than a bit of sarcasm towards her archrival, Jo Beth rolled her eyes. “Well, you know Liberty—more interested in a cause than a husband, so she flat out refused the proposal of a wealthy marital prospect in New York, handpicked by her daddy. A senator’s son, no less, with aspirations to be a senator himself, and she turned him down flat.” She wrinkled her nose. “Said she’d rather be a senator than marry one, if you can imagine that.”

  Somehow Finn could, and the thought coaxed a smile to his lips.

  “Well, I can tell you right now that Liberty plans to stay because I just hired her at the paper after she begged for a chance to prove herself.”

  Jo Beth arched a brow. “Well, that’s because her daddy cut off her allowance while she’s home, according to Charlene,” she said with a bit of a smirk, “a little leverage, if you will, but we all know how pig-headed Liberty can be.”

  Yes, we do ... Finn flashed a smile when Flo moseyed over, ordering pie and more coffee for the table.

  “Although I suspect in the end, her daddy will get his way,” Jo Beth continued. “He usually does.”

  Finn frowned.

  “Well, well,” Jo Beth said softly, “speak of the devil.”

  Finn stopped breathing. A flash of heat jolted through his body at the sight of Liberty O’Shea in the doorway of Flo’s Café with her best friends Kitty Jones and Martha Artyomenko. The devil, indeed. Complete with fiery hair and a pitchfork tongue. Not to mention the heat she evoked in his body every time he laid eyes on her. A smile rested on those luscious lips until her gaze lighted upon him, thinning her mouth considerably along with those green eyes the color of moss on a forest floor.

  In a patch of poison ivy.

  Flo approached them at the door, and Liberty’s face eased into the sweet smile she awarded everyone but him. That is, until Flo began to lead them to the only empty table in the small café.

  Right next to Finn’s.

  He couldn’t help it—the blood siphoning from her usually rosy cheeks coaxed a grin to his lips, along with Flo’s not-so-gentle tug of the little brat’s arm when she reared back in a hard slant, feet fused to the floor like her shoes were made of glue. With Flo’s firm grip and Kitty’s gentle prod from behind, they succeeded in dragging her to the table, but not before Finn managed a roguish wink that helped replenish the blood in her face. “Why, hello there, Liberty Bell.”

  He casually slid an arm around Jo Beth’s shoulders, knowing full well it would rile Liberty something fierce. She’d always accused him of being a lothario in school, and he took great pleasure in getting her goat. Especially after her father turned him down for a loan her senior year, accusing Finn of being a fortune hunter. Claimed his decision was based on the fact that “his Libby” didn’t trust Finn, calling him “a skunk of a womanizer just like his father.”

  Finn had been so irate, he’d stood Libby up for the festival dance he’d finally gotten the nerve to ask her to, taking Jo Beth instead at the very last minute. His jaw hardened at the memory as he stared at the woman who had stabbed him straight through the heart. As sweet as you please during the time they spent together as festival volunteers, but then running back to Daddy to sully Finn’s reputation. He released a silent sigh. He had to admit there were days he regretted the hurt he’d caused her that night, leaving her high and dry in front of the whole town.

  But today sure wasn’t one of them.

  He casually fondled the lace on Jo Beth’s scoop collar with blatant familiarity just to get on Libby’s nerves. Delivering a lazy smile, he skimmed along Jo Beth’s collarbone with the pad of his thumb. “Say, Miss Bell, you didn’t happen to notice any starving babies or women outside, did you? ’Cause I sure would like to treat them to dinner …”

  Libby’s eyes could have been jagged shards of emerald for all the daggers she was shooting his way. “I doubt Flo has nitroglycerin on the menu, Mr. McShane …”

  He grinned, adrenalin pumping through his veins at sparring with Liberty O’Shea once again. “Well, I don’t know about that, Miss O’Shea, but Flo’s chili pert near ‘explodes’ on the tongue.”

  Her face flushed almost purple, and pleasure coursed through his bloodstream at being able to evoke some sort of emotion from this fire-haired beauty who haunted his dreams. As a God-fearing man, he knew he shouldn’t take such joy in baiting one of God’s own, but blue blazes, he never could help himself where Liberty O’Shea was concerned.

  “You are pathetic, Mr. McShame, and I’m sure if you had a conscience, it would be as black as night.” She turned away with a swoosh of that magnificent scarlet hair, and he grinned at Milo, who just shook his head, the smirk on his face stealing some of Finn’s thunder.

  “What was that all about?” Jo Beth said, never too happy when Finn p
aid attention to another woman, especially one she couldn’t abide.

  “Oh, just another one of Liberty’s lost causes,” he said loud enough for Liberty to hear. Heat crept up the back of his neck when the thought backfired with a painful cramp in his gut.

  Just like me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You’re on time—I like that, Miss O’Shea.”

  Liberty’s cheeks burned as she sent Milo Parks a polite smile, closing the door behind her before she calmly took a chair in front of his desk. Steers would fly before she’d let him know she’d been camped out at Flo’s since sunup, drinking coffee nonstop while she peered at the glass door of the Territorial Enterprise. This job meant everything to her, and if she had to kiss Milo Parks’ feet, she would, because she’d do anything to secure her future and that of the women of Nevada.

  Finn McShane’s cocky smile suddenly barged into her thoughts.

  Well, almost anything.

  “I believe in being on time, Mr. Parks,” she said as demurely as she could, as if she were the employer and he merely the nauseous new employee whose knees felt like hog’s-haw jelly.

  “Good to hear. So, have you finished your editorial on the V&T Railroad?” Milo Parks appeared relaxed in his chair, the faintest of smiles hovering on his lips.

  “Yes, sir, I have, and I hope it will meet with your approval.” She removed her article from Papa’s portfolio and handed it over, her unblinking gaze fused to his. For whatever reason, Milo Parks appeared to want to light a fire under his best friend, and Liberty was more than willing to comply.

  Reaching to take the paper, he slanted back with a casual air.

  Hands folded in her lap, she sat straight and tall on the edge of the chair, lungs deathly still while she watched his face. She had an itch on her nose, but refused to scratch it, determined to appear poised and confident despite the roiling in her gut. It wasn’t until those full lips of his edged up in a genuine smile that she finally allowed herself to breathe, and when he laughed outright, her shoulders sank in relief. “You like it?”

  He peered over the top of the paper and grinned. “I love it.”

  She chewed on the edge of her lip. “Do you think … it will stir things up? You know, as far as the plight of the Chinese?” she asked, desperate to expose the railroads for their despicable prejudice.

  A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh, yeah, it’ll stir things up all right.” He tossed it back on his desk and chuckled. “And I have no idea about the Chinese.”

  “So I … have the job?” Voice tentative, she peered up from the edge of her seat, on tenterhooks that felt like a nest of Mama’s knitting needles poking through a ball of yarn.

  He studied her through pensive eyes despite the faint smile on his lips, elbows propped on the arms of his chair and hands folded. “Sure. Providing you’re willing to start at the bottom.”

  If she scooted any closer to the edge, she’d be on the floor. “Oh, anything, Mr. Parks,” she gushed with hands clasped to her mouth. “Absolutely anything and anytime—I am at your complete disposal.”

  “An apt choice of words, Miss O’Shea, because if you buck me on assignments I give, any ‘disposal’ will be yours—is that clear?”

  “Oh, yes sir!” she breathed, hardly able to believe she had an honest-to-goodness job with an honest-to-goodness paycheck despite Papa’s efforts to blackball her from employment in Virginia City. Never was she more grateful that the owner of the Enterprise was one of Papa’s adversaries, untouchable by her father’s money. She fought the rise of a smirk. Let him put that in his pipe and puff it!

  “Good.” Milo rifled through his side drawer for several seconds before producing an application, which he promptly slid across his desk. “Fill this out, give it to Viola at the front desk, and she’ll cut you a paycheck every week. Hours are generally 7:00 to 5:00 unless you’re on special assignment, then you stay till it gets done, understood?”

  She nodded, quite sure she’d rather spend most of her time here than at Ponderosa Pines, where Papa bellowed nonstop over her “ungrateful suffragette ways.” Her spirits dimmed a hair. Even if she did sorely miss Mama.

  “You’ll get paid 85 cents a day and 30 minutes for lunch.”

  The adrenaline coursing through her veins slowed to a crawl. “Eighty-five cents a day?”

  He glanced up from a stack of notes he was rummaging through. “Is there a problem?”

  “Uh …” Her chin rose. “Even the Chinese laborers on the horrific Central Pacific Railroad were paid a dollar a day, Mr. Parks.”

  His eyes narrowed despite the stiff smile on his face. “That’s right, Miss O’Shea, and each and every one a man, so let’s not get a bee in your bonnet.”

  Her mouth sagged open, wide enough for a whole hive of those blasted bees. “Excuse me, sir, but are you saying I’m to be paid less for the same work as a man just because I’m a woman?”

  His eyes bore into hers like one of those confounded rotary drills they used to mine silver, but she didn’t miss a twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth. “Now you’re getting the lay of the land, Miss O’Shea. So do you want the job or not?”

  She slammed her mouth shut, teeth ground tight to keep the piece of her mind from barreling out. Offering a curt nod, she jacked her chin even higher.

  That infernal twitch of his smile bloomed like pigweed in a patch of petunias. “Good, then we have just one more business detail to cover.” With a decidedly evil glint in his gaze that somehow brought to mind an outhouse and a skunk, Milo Parks shoved a paper and pen across his desk.

  “What’s this?” She slowly leaned in to study it, as if it were a scorpion about to strike. Her jaw dropped, near as wide as the mouth of the Comstock mine. As if starched by shock, her lashes rose in slow motion. “You want me to sign a contract?” she whispered, a tic fluttering in her temple, “to restrain my temper on the job?”

  He nodded with a gleam of trouble in his eyes. “No matter the assignment, hour, or day. If you are on Enterprise business, you will keep that Irish temper under wraps or it and its owner will be out of a job, is that clear?”

  Libby shot to her feet, her volume rising along with her. “This is blackmail! If I were a man, you would never do such a thing, Milo Parks.” She stamped her kidskin boots. “This is bald-faced discrimination, and I will not stand for it!”

  “Then sit,” he said with a glare tempered by the ghost of a smile. “And it’s not discrimination, Liberty, it’s self-preservation, and you darn well know it.” He arched a brow when she stood there steaming. “I said sit. Or you can turn that mule-headed temper of yours around right now, Liberty O’Shea, and waltz out that door. Those are the terms—take ’em or leave ’em.”

  Hands knotted at her sides, she stood there glowering right back, body trembling with indignation along with the feathers on her hat. Jaw like rock, she slowly sucked in a calming breath. All right, Liberty, just think of all the women you can help by holding your tongue … Huffing out her exasperation, she plopped back in the chair, her anger cooling enough for regret to set in. “I …” She swallowed the pride clogging her throat. “I’m sorry,” she rasped, gratified when Milo gave her a sympathetic smile instead of pulling rank.

  “I know you are, Liberty. Back in school, I’ve seen you madder than a wet hornet with a headache when Finn and I pulled some crazy stunt to drive you crazy, but in the end, you always simmered down and did the right thing.”

  “Till the next time,” she muttered, brows digging low.

  Milo grinned. “Yeah, till the next time.” His chest rose and fell with a noisy sigh before he met her gaze with a truce of a smile that put her at ease. “The truth is, Liberty, I like you—always have—and Finn likes you too.”

  An unladylike grunt parted from her lips. “Sure, Finn likes me all right—as long as I’m in another state.”

  He grinned while he scratched the back of his head. “No, he does, really, it’s just that …”

  Her eye
lids narrowed. “It’s just what?”

  “It’s just that he’s my best friend and more of a brother, you know? And with the V&T office just three doors away …”

  “You want us to avoid killing each other,” she said, finishing his thought.

  A boyish smile slid across his face. “Something like that.”

  Her ruffled bodice expanded with air, and she expelled it again in one, arduous exhale. “All right, Mr. Parks, you have my word I will do everything in my power to get along with Mr. McVain.” Smile flat, she studied the contract in its entirety before scrawling her name across the bottom line. Laying the pen aside, she pushed the paper forward, lips in a twist. “After all, shouldn’t be too hard if I stay as far away from him as humanly possible, right?”

  “Yeah, well, about that …” Milo cocked his head, brows dipped as he drew air through clenched teeth.

  The smile froze on her face.

  “The Enterprise is one of the biggest sponsors for the annual Fourth of July Festival as you know …”

  “Yesssss …” she said slowly, her vision thinning significantly.

  “Well, I’m the co-chairman of the planning committee, so we’re going to need your help. Figured I’d have you co-chair with me as your first assignment.”

  “Okay …” The breath she’d been holding slowly seeped out. “That doesn’t sound too bad so far, if writing’s still involved.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Milo assured her with a forceful nod of his head. “Anything you care to contribute that factors into the patriotic theme of our fair city or state—features, editorials, newsy updates, whatever. As long as the festival planning doesn’t suffer, the sky’s the limit.”

  A grin pulled at her lips. “You know, this could actually be fun—getting paid to chair the festival. I mean, I’ve always loved it—the booths, the baking contest, the dance, the parade.”