Chapter Eight-Tell the Devil I Said, "Haigh"
During the middle of March, Mother Nature decided to rear her ugly head. She huffed and she puffed and she covered the streets of New York City with a blanket of powdery snow. Unfortunately, it never took long for the dazzling white paths of the busily traveled avenues to turn into brown slush.
"Kitty," Matt spoke softly into his wife's ear while gently shaking her shoulder. "Ya gonna get up today, Sleepyhead?" He hated to wake her, knowing that lately she'd been having trouble sleeping.
She incoherently mumbled, flopping her arm over her eyes.
The giant of a man stood to his full height, a wide grin spreading across his face. He pridefully took inventory of her appearance, releasing a slow breath as he rested his hands on his waist. Kitty's belly had blossomed over the last couple of months, making it more uncomfortable for her to sleep. While it was fanned over her white pillowcase like the rays of the morning sun, he noticed that her hair had grown longer and thicker, richer in color. Her alabaster skin had developed a youthful, satiny glow. His eyes inevitably settled upon her incredibly full breasts. He licked his lips, longing to strip and climb back into bed with her. He'd found the most interesting aspect of his wife's pregnancy had been her insatiable sexual appetite. The woman absolutely could not get enough of him, to the point where every day she'd asked him to come home for his mid-day meal.
"Pa?" Thad braced his hands on the doorjamb, leaning into his parents' room.
Matt instinctively spun around as if he were facing someone who'd called him out. But instead of reaching for his right hip, he pressed his finger to his lips.
The boy immediately closed his mouth and took one large step backward, his father suddenly standing in front of him. The big man turned Thad around and gently led him through the sitting room and around the large, stone fireplace into the kitchen.
"Your mother hasn't been sleeping well, Son. Let's leave 'er be. I'll make us breakfast." Matt poured himself a second cup of coffee and asked, "What would you like to eat? Eggs…bacon…porridge?"
Thad pulled the small ceramic pitcher of milk out of the ice box. "Porridge is fine, Pa. I'll get the cinnamon and sugar."
"Porridge it is." Matt pumped some water into a pot while his son poured himself a glass of milk. "Thad, your mother and I were wondering what you'd like to do for your birthday. You'll be nine in a few days." He grinned, glancing over his shoulder as he added some wood to the stove.
The boy sat, folding his hands on the rectangular table top. He let out a lengthy sigh as he slouched and rested his chin on his hands.
Matt joined his son at the table, cradling his mug between his big hands. "What's the matter? I used to get excited when my Pa asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday."
"Well," he mumbled, "I don't know how to answer." He didn't move a muscle but for his big blue eyes. They looked up at the man he'd come to truly think of as his father. He slowly sat up straight. "Ya, see, I never had a pa ask me that before. No one ever asked me that before. Not that I remember, anyway." His eyes then focused on his glass of milk. "I turned six when I was with Miss Claire. I remember she made me a chocolate cake and Aunt Kit—" he paused, swallowing hard. "And Mama sent me some books, a cowboy hat, and six peppermint sticks."
Matt cleared his throat as he rose to serve them their porridge. He remembered Kitty had asked him about ordering a smaller version of his Stetson. "Ya know, Son, my parents died when I was young. I know a little something about sad birthday memories."
"Really?" Thad squeaked, his eyebrows arching.
"Uh-huh. My pa passed when I was ten and my ma when I was twelve." Matt placed a steaming bowl of oats in front of the boy.
"That's terrible." Thad's bottom lip began to quiver.
Matt gently squeezed his shoulder, "Hey, now. I didn't mean to make you sad, Son. I just wanted you to know that we all have things in our past that aren't ideal. But look at us now. I've got you, and you've got me, and we both have your mama."
"And we're gonna have a new baby!" Thad smiled with happy tears balancing on the rims of his eyes.
Matt grinned, confirming, "And we're gonna have a baby."
"Well, if we're having a baby, could one of you sleep with him strapped to your stomach tonight?" Kitty shuffled into the kitchen, scratching the side of her belly. "Good grief. It's after seven o'clock! Why did you two let me sleep so late?" She poured herself a cup of coffee and made her way to the table, standing next to her husband. "What were you two talking about? And Matt…why are you still home?"
Matt pulled her onto his lap. "I'm still home because it snowed last night and I needed to shovel the walk for us and the McCaffertys. AND, someone I know tossed and turned all night and needed her beauty sleep."
The redhead winced. "Sorry, Cowboy. I didn't realize I was keepin' you awake."
"Well, we'll discuss your penance later today. After dinner." The big man winked. "And as for our conversation—our son and I were saying how lucky we all are to have each other." He flashed that charming little boy smile while gently rubbing her belly. "And what Thad might want to do for his birthday."
"Ah, yes," Kitty sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. She stared at her son through happy tears. "I can hardly believe my sweet boy's gonna be nine years old." She leaned over to caress his cheek, their matching blue eyes locking like magnets. "I'm so lucky you're mine. And you're here. With me."
Thad gulped, swallowing the porridge that had been in his mouth. "This will be my best birthday, ever, Mama. Just cause we're here. All of us."
"That's right," Kitty said, her morning voice still deep and husky.
The knock at the door startled all the Dillons. Kitty stood, allowing her husband to answer the door, asking, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Marshal. Scotty B."
Matt opened the door, granting Owney Geoghegan's right hand man entrance. He held out his hand, greeting, "Morning, Scotty. C'mon in." Matt looked at his son. "Thad, get your things. I'll take ya to school today."
The boy hopped to it as Scotty entered the kitchen. "Mornin', Miss Kitty." He took in her appearance, realizing she must have overslept. "I hope I'm not too early. This is when I normally bring ya the books from The Bastille."
Kitty served her guest a cup of the morning brew. "No, Scotty. You're fine. Won't you sit down for a bit?" She nodded her head toward a chair.
"Don't mind if I do." The big man sat, smiling at his unkempt hostess. Kitty's hair was down and clearly uncombed. Her dressing gown was untied, mainly due to the size of her belly.
Thad ran out of his room, his books banging against his thigh, secured by a strap. He'd bundled himself in his heavy woolen coat and knitted cap. "Gotta go, Mama." He hurriedly kissed her cheek.
"Bye, Sweetheart. Where are your mittens?"
"In my pocket!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward his waiting father.
"See you later, Kitty." Matt tipped the brim of his hat to her. "I'll be home for dinner a little after noon."
"Wonderful," she purred, peering at him over the rim of her cup. Once the door was closed, she turned her full attention to Scotty. "Can I take your coat?"
"Sure." He quickly discarded the garment, handing it to Kitty. "Did ya see the snow out there? It'll be nothin' but a sloppy mess soon." He slowly sipped the hot liquid.
Kitty looked out her front window. "It's hard to see too much, since Matt shoveled." She turned and walked back into the kitchen. "Did you bring the ledgers from the Lucky Shamrock, too? I need to get caught up on those. Last week they were really a mess. Ya hungry?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder while she grabbed her frying pan.
"No, thanks, Miss Kitty. And no, sorry t' say I didn't get ya the books from the Shamrock. Just the Bastille. I didn't go that far north cause a the nasty roads."
"That's okay." She smiled as she cracked a couple of eggs into the pan. "I could use a brisk walk this morning."
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"Oh my good-goodness," the redhead stuttered as she entered the dimly lit tavern. She shivered as she brushed the snow off her shoulders. "I swear, if my boots are ruined, Owney's gonna owe me a new pair!" She frowned at the tall, craggy faced bartender who reminded her so much of Sam Noonan.
"Good morning, Miss Kitty. Don't you fret. You know the boss man will reimburse ya for anything. He worships the ground you walk on." He smiled, revealing the big space between his two front teeth.
"Aww, Eddie," she cooed as she approached the bar, removing her gloves and coat, "you sure know how to make a girl feel special. But worship seems a bit strong of a word."
"Can I get ya anything, Ma'am?" he asked while sliding a frothy beer down the bar to a regular customer.
"No, thanks. Is Owney here? I need the ledgers and receipts."
"He's around somewhere. I think downstairs with some fellas. But the books are in his office. You know where, so go on and get 'em. It's okay."
Kitty smiled. Of all of Owney Geoghegan's properties, the Lucky Shamrock's atmosphere most reminded her of the Long Branch. It was a simple saloon, with just a few green felt covered poker tables and a roulette wheel. The back room had two billiard tables and a smaller, separate bar. The clientele was mostly made up of working men from the surrounding neighborhoods.
But the basement was what made the Shamrock so popular in the evenings. The dark underground room had a boxing ring where Owney or Scotty presided over exhibition matches each night. The former saloon proprietress was no fool. She'd known since the first time she'd entered the Lucky Shamrock that men boxed for money and other men bet on them. All gambling was illegal in New York City, but not a soul enforced that law. After all, there wouldn't be a watering hole anywhere in the city if the law adhered to the "no gambling" codes.
Owney's desk was disheveled and drawers had been left open, which was completely out of character for the fastidious businessman. Normally, he was as neat as a pin. Kitty shrugged her shoulders at the mess and headed for the gigantic bookcase lining the side wall. The door behind her slammed and before she could turn around, a sweaty hand covered her mouth. A large man roughly yanked her back as close to his body as possible. He whispered in her ear, "I don't mean ya no harm, whore. Just show me where he keeps his cash."
Kitty struggled against her attacker, ineffectively elbowing him in his side. She could tell that he was a tall, well-built man. She screamed, but the sound just echoed in her own mouth, her big blue eyes wide with terror.
As his other arm snaked under her breasts, he hissed, "I see ya got a belly full a baby. Ya musta let a customer come insida ya. Not a very smart whore, are ya?"
The redhead feverishly bucked, hoping he'd lose his grip over her mouth. She could hardly breathe as his big hand nearly covered her nostrils.
"Settle down now." He tightened his hold across her breasts. "Nod with yer head in the direction of yer man's safe. Then you and me can have a party. That oughtta teach Geoghegan a lesson. He's a cheat and a liar. I can take what he owes me outta you."
Kitty's stomach revolted as panic overtook her. Vomit filled her mouth and she began to writhe and choke.
In revulsion, the giant shoved her forward. She crashed into the bookshelf before throwing up all over herself. "Please," she gasped, protectively covering her head with her arms, "leave me be. I don't know where the safe is. I swear!"
"You lying bitch!" He raised his hand and slapped Kitty so hard she spun around and fell to the floor, landing on her stomach.
She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Her ears rang and she saw stars. Blood trickled from the ear on the side of the face where she'd been struck. Her head jerked back when her assailant grabbed her by her hair, trying to force her to her feet.
"Please!" she found her voice and screamed. "STOP!"
Suddenly, he released his grip on her and she crumpled, her head hitting the edge of her boss's desk. Kitty desperately tried to remain conscious, her eyelids rapidly fluttering. As her world slowly faded to black, she heard a familiar voice growl, "Tell the devil I said, 'Haigh'."
TBC