Questions of Honour. Kate Welsh

      Daniel popped up from behind a crate and ran to her. “Come watch the train come in, Ma!” He grabbed her hand, tugged her along the platform, and around the corner of the station house. “Here she comes!” Daniel shouted, pointing down the tracks as the clicking wheels and the puffing engine drew closer.

      “I guess you’ll want to stay till it pulls out, as well?” Abby shouted over the din.

      “Oh, Ma, could I?” Daniel’s eyes were bright. She loved seeing him like this. Happy and carefree. Not shadowed by the taunts of unkind children or the whispered condemnations of disdainful adults.

      “If you promise to sweep after dinner.”

      Daniel shouted joyfully and ran off back down the platform. As Abby rounded the corner again, she saw he’d met up with Mr. Dodd. They consulted with each other then Daniel turned, pointing toward her. Abby waved and nodded her agreement to remaining behind, then she remembered her canvas shopping bag. Daniel and Mr. Dodd were gone when she came back around the corner again.

      Abby heard a high-pitched feminine giggle as a sandy-haired man jumped off a passenger car, then swung a young woman off the stairs to the platform. They laughed as another man followed sedately. Judging from their expensive clothes, the three were guests of Harlan Wheaton. Four rough-looking men disembarked next. Though they stood a distance away, they still seemed to be a part of the wealthy group.

      The younger man turned toward her and Abby’s head swam. Her heart thundered as she reached out to steady herself. He’d grown taller and broader but there stood Joshua Wheaton.

      Joshua.

      He looked around, then turned back to the blond woman, who took a step toward him and put her hand on his forearm. Abby felt as if a knife had thrust through her chest. Then the young woman whispered in his ear and twisted the knife.

      Abby wrapped her arms around her middle and gasped for breath. She didn’t know what she should do. Run? Cry? Fly at him with her fists and demand to know why he’d abandoned her and how he could have ignored her last and final plea written on the day she delivered their son?

       How could you condemn our son to a life of scorn?

      She stepped back behind the cover of the stacked crates. She’d make him explain. But first, she had to get herself under control. First, she had to come to grips with a truth of her own. Why, after all Joshua Wheaton had done to her, after all the pain he’d caused her and their son, did it still hurt so much to see him come home with another woman on his arm?

      “Surely your father sent a carriage, Joshua,” Franklin Gowery said, his displeasure at being stranded evident on his face.

      Joshua shrugged. “I doubt it. I was unsure when I’d arrive.” I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t get right back on the train. I still might.

      “He knew. Why do you think we took the morning train?” Helena replied.

      Joshua bristled. Had meeting Helena Conwell and her guardian been some sort of planned ruse? “I was under the impression our meeting was happenstance. It was, wasn’t it?” Joshua demanded.

      Gowery shot Helena a black look. “Of course it was. Isn’t that right, Helena?”

      Helena laid her hand on Joshua’s sleeve but didn’t look him in the eye. “Yes, Uncle Franklin.”

      Joshua let his mind wander. The town looked the same. Only he had changed. Emotions he couldn’t analyze raced through him, making his heart lurch painfully. Memories of Abby rushed at him. Why, Abby? his heart cried. How could you forget us? How could you marry Sullivan?

      Taking a deep breath, Joshua tried to relax, remembering how he’d hoped his anxiety would be lessened by arriving with a pretty young woman on his arm. He forced a smile just before Helena stepped away.

      “He could have at least sent a carriage for us. He knew we’d be on this train,” Helena groused.

      “It must have slipped his mind. Apparently he hasn’t been well since his injury. I’ll find someone to send up to the house.”

      Joshua saw a boy dancing after Mr. Dodd. “Son, how would you like to earn a penny?” he shouted.

      The boy turned, his blue eyes bright and intelligent. “Sure, mister, as long as it’s not something against the law. My ma’d skin me alive if I got into trouble.”

      “Maybe you ought to head on home,” Mr. Dodd interrupted.

      Joshua chuckled. “I just want him to go up to Wheaton Manor and tell someone to send the carriage, Mr. Dodd.”

      The boy grew visibly tense, his eyes shifting to the stationmaster then back. “Make it a nickel,” the boy demanded.

      Josh arched an eyebrow. “A nickel? That’s rather steep.”

      “Won’t go there for no penny.”

      “It can’t be that bad going up to the manor.”

      The boy’s face was set. “For most folks, maybe. A nickel or walk, mister.”

      “Two cents,” Josh offered

      “Four.”

      “Three and that’s my final offer.”

      “Who do I say is waitin'?” the boy wanted to know.

      “Say Mr. Gowery and his ward are here and Mr. Joshua Wheaton and all his worldly goods are here, as well, so they’ll need to send a wagon along, too.”

      The boy’s face hardened. “Is that you?” he asked, his cupid’s bow lip curling at the corner.

      Joshua had grown unused to the hatred the name Wheaton evoked here. “Yes, but I’m not my father, son, and things will change now that I’m back.”

      “I’m not your son. I’ll never be your son,” the boy snarled, then pivoted and ran away.

      Joshua stood staring after the retreating figure, wondering what he’d said and what it was about the boy that seemed so familiar. Probably the son of a boyhood friend and that stung all the more.

      “Little beast!” Helena gasped.

      “The boy has his reasons,” Dodd grumbled and after shooting Joshua a sharp look, he turned and shuffled toward the station-house door.

      Franklin Gowery spoke into the silence left by Dodd’s remark. “These children grow up fast and hard, my dear. In a way, they’re more dangerous than wild animals. They appear human till they turn on you.”

      Joshua turned away from the sight of the fleeing boy. His gaze fell on Helena. Her eyes seemed to blaze with fire as she stared at her guardian. Perhaps he’d found a kindred spirit. “It’s hardly necessary to teach social niceties to children doomed to poverty if they manage to live into adulthood.”

      Gowery shook his head. “Still a dreamer, are you? I’d have thought working in Wales would have cured your idealism.”

      “I worked for a company more progressive than even the strict mining regulations Great Britain has adopted. We made a handsome profit while managing to treat the miners like human beings with hopes and dreams.”

      Helena stepped toward Joshua and smiled up at him. “That sounds promising. You must tell me more of your reform ideas.”

      The clatter and jingle of harnessed horses and wagons distracted him. “Ah. We don’t need a messenger after all,” he told his companions. “If you’ll both excuse me, that looks like Henry.”

      Joshua moved toward the wagon hoping it was his father’s retainer. As he walked down the steps, he saw a flash of color near the side of the station and froze. There, scurrying along, her auburn hair radiant against the backdrop of white, was Abby. His Abby. Who belonged to another. Who’d married a few short months after he’d left for Germany. He wondered what she’d done with