me?”
A tall figure dressed in a cranberry coat and buff-colored breeches stood near the corner. The sound of Callie’s calls caught his attention, and he turned in her direction. A sudden smile lit his clean, handsome features when he recognized her. Byrch Kenyon had spent most of his day walking up and down Bayard Street, looking for her. Since she had left him in this neighborhood, he had rightly assumed she lived nearby. His hope was that she would come out either on her way to work or on an errand.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. To him, Callie was all that was Ireland during these hard times—young, desperate, and yet with that certain quality of determination and a willingness to defend herself. He laughed when he remembered her biting remarks and felt humbled when he thought of her desperation. Would he, given the same circumstances, have found the courage to risk the rope to feed his family?
Unaware that she was observed, Callie ran to where she had last seen Billy squirm between the dust bins. “Billy James, come out of there!” When she moved one of the heavy tin drums aside, expecting to find her little brother crouched behind it, she found herself peering into a narrow cellar window, Billy’s skinny little legs sticking out onto the sidewalk. Before she could gather her wits to grab him by the ankles and pull him out, he slipped forward, head first, into the blackness. “Billy! Billy!”
Byrch Kenyon heard the alarm in Callie’s voice, saw her bending over from the waist, heard the rumble of the tin dust bins as she hoisted them aside.
Callie was down on her knees, stretching, reaching, probing the darkness with her hand. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted aside and was vaguely aware, through her panic, of a tall man leaning through the window while he voiced calming and reassuring words to the howling child.
“Hold on there, boy. I’ve got you. Just let me pull you up. That’s a boy!”
Within the space of a moment, Billy was dragged through the opening and out into the sunlight. It wasn’t until she actually held Billy in her arms that Callie lifted her head and saw that Byrch Kenyon had come to her rescue once again.
“You!” The utterance was a combination of shock and accusation.
“Yes, regrettably so. Knowing how fiercely independent you are, I’m afraid I’ve interfered yet again.” The mockery was there in his voice as it had been before, and Callie could see the humor in his light eyes and the wry smile that played around his mouth. His height, his leanness, his handsomeness, all came in a series of impressions. And Billy was crying with abandon.
“Hush, Billy,” she soothed, “all’s right now. But you should never never go off on your own like that. Think what could’ve happened!”
“I . . . I . . . was lookin’ for the pot o’ gold, Callie,” the child sobbed. “I almost had it. I did!”
Seizing him by the shoulders, Callie succumbed to her frustrations. “There’s nothing in the way of a pot of gold, Billy, and the sooner you know it, the better.”
“There is! There is! Granda says there is!” Billy protested through his tears. His little boy’s fists pounded at Callie.
“Here, here,” Byrch pulled Billy away. “You shouldn’t be hitting your sister that way, young man. Now tell me, what’s this about a pot of gold? Did you think you’d find it in the cartwright’s cellar?”
Billy nodded his head shyly. He was too young to verbalize his reasons, but in his little heart he believed in Granda’s stories.
Byrch smiled down at the child and quickly lifted him onto his broad shoulders. “Well now, Billy, when I was a boy about your age, I too heard tales abut the wee people and their gold. And I once heard that if you were smart enough to find a four-leaf clover and follow the way it was pointing, a handsome prize of gold you’d find.” Reaching into his pocket, Byrch withdrew a gold coin and pressed it into Billy’s hand. “Here’s your prize, boyo.”
Billy opened his hand and looked with amazement at the shiny coin. Then his features screwed into a frown. “But it’s not a whole pot o’ gold the way Granda said!”
“That’s because you went off without telling your sister,” Byrch reasoned. “The pot of gold is only for the most worthy and the best. You mustn’t frighten the ones who love you by taking risks, understand, Billy?”
Billy nodded in agreement. It was Callie who offered her protests. “Mr. Kenyon, I’ll thank you not to be filling my brother’s head with tales of wee people and the like. There’s enough of that from Granda. And as for the coin, you’re much too generous and have done quite enough already.” Her clear blue eyes held his. “After all you’ve done we couldn’t accept it, could we, Billy?”
“No! Mine!” Billy cried. “I gonna give it to Mum and Da!”
“Let him have it, won’t you?” Byrch interceded. “After all, it’s such a little coin for such a little boy.” His smile was warm and genuine and said that she mustn’t interpret the coin as charity. That, Byrch knew, Callie could never accept.
Chapter Three
Callie studied him for a long moment. “As long as it’s understood it’s not charity, Mr. Kenyon. I’m a girl who can take care of herself and her own.”
“Without a doubt,” he quickly agreed with a slightly lopsided grin.
“As I said, as long as it’s understood. If you’ll please put Billy down now, I’ve got to get back to the other children.”
“I’ll go with you. Which way are you heading?” It was casually asked, and his tone was friendly, but Callie was still skeptical. After all, it still wasn’t too late for him to have a twinge of conscience and turn her into the authorities.
“There’s no need. I’ll not let this one out of my sight again.” She indicated Billy with her glance.
“I insist.” The simple statement stifled further argument. “Billy and I are going to be friends, aren’t we, boyo?” He gripped the child’s ankles hanging down from his perch atop Byrch’s shoulders.
Callie led the way back to the park where the other children waited. “So, at last I know your full name,” he told her, watching for her reaction. “It’s James, isn’t it?”
Stopping dead in her tracks, she faced him, irritated and again suspicious. “And how would you be knowing that?”
“Billy’s your brother and I heard you calling him Billy James. Not an amazing piece of deduction, I assure you.”
“You’re quick with your mind, you are. Or at least you’d have me believe. Are you sure you weren’t snooping around asking questions? You seemed overly curious about me when you walked me part way home.” She tried to pretend indifference, but inside her heart was racing.
“A newspaper man should be quick and clever. I’ve done my share of hunting down stories and getting to the truth.” He was thinking that when he got back to the States he’d like to do a story on Callie James. People were hungry for news of their homeland, and aside from politics, Byrch liked nothing better than a human interest story. Of course, he dared not mention this to her. Her fear of being betrayed was almost tangible. His hands gripping Billy’s ankles could feel the small, delicate bones in the boy’s legs. An occasional basket of food would never be enough to put meat on this thin, growing body. What Billy needed, what all children needed, was a proper diet each and every day.
Breaking into his thoughts, Callie asked, “What were you doing down on Bayard Street? It isn’t exactly the kind of place a gentleman like you does his business.”
“I’m not the only quick mind, it would seem,” he complimented. “Actually I was looking for you. I had no idea how far you still had to go after you ran away, and I was worried. I thought if anything had happened, it would be talked about and I’d hear it.” The hard truth was that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Throughout