Chapter 1

Meagan

New York, New York

September 1871

"It's about time ye got off work, Meggie!" Liam teased his sister when she walked out of the factory. "It's freezin' out here!"

"Oh, ye're a tough lad! Just count yer lucky stars ‘tisn't December!" said Megan Shannon, his sister. She let out an exaggerated deep breath as she smoothed her shiny auburn hair back into place. "I'm sorry ye had to wait so long. The foreman wouldn't let us out until the last of the day's pieces were finished."

He scoffed as he walked beside her. "Why don't ye tell that man to kiss yer broad Irish arse an' just walk out of there?"

Megan slapped his arm as he playfully raised his fists. "For yer information, me arse is not broad!"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's why ye haven't landed a husband yet."

She huffed, raising her chin. Autumn was swiftly approaching, and it was getting cold at night. She regretted not wearing her heavy coat. "Liam Shannon! I'll have ye know that I don' have a husband yet because I haven't met anyone that strikes me fancy."

Megan and her brother had moved to New York from Ireland after their parents had died. As a woman, the jobs she could get were few. Factory jobs were plentiful in New York, but not for Irishmen or women. Signs hung in the windows stating IRISH NEED NOT APPLY. She was lucky to have gotten one.

Liam sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his expression suddenly serious. "I worry about what would become of ye if something were to happen to me."

"Liam, ye know I don't like that kind of talk."

In Ireland, their parents had died of starvation. They would have been next if they hadn't sold everything they owned and purchased two steerage tickets on a steamer headed for the United States in hope of a better life. But since their arrival, they'd had to work like dogs just to survive.

In Ireland, she had heard stories that the streets in America were paved in gold, and that all one had to do was to claim their share. But the journey on the steamship had been brutal.

When they arrived, they were greeted with bigotry. The only job Liam could get was as a laborer, building the new Brooklyn Bridge; and Megan in a factory.

The pay was minimal, but between the two of them, they could afford a small, one-bedroom, run-down tenement that they shared with two other families. Megan slept in the bedroom with the women, and her brother slept in the living room with the men. Both clutched what few belongings they had to their chest while they slept, bundled up in pillowcases, for fear that one of the other dwellers would steal them blind. Megan took the pillowcase containing another dress, a hairbrush, and her mother's locket with her to work every day.

Megan often felt bad about how they had to live, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances, and her brother protected her from the other tenants. As the eldest, he had always been protective of her, even when they were children.

"That job of yers is too dangerous." Megan wrung her hands as they walked home. "Could ye not find a safer job? One that won't result in yer gettin' sick from working in that frigid water? Ye could freeze to death!"

Liam laughed as he ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. "I don' take any chances. Don' ye be frettin', Meggie. I can take care of meself." He stopped and held his arms out and flexed his muscles. "I'm as fit as a fiddle and as strong as an ox."

"Well, ye're not too strong for me to take a ladle to when I have ta," she barked as they rounded a corner, trying to keep from smiling. "Don't ye be forgettin' that."

He laughed as he slid his arm around her shoulders. "Oh, ye love me and ye know it."

She pulled away, feigning anger. "Get off me, ye big ox!" She pulled the shawl around her shoulders again. "And that fightin' ye do! Ye'll be killed!"

He let out a deep breath. "It's called boxin', and I've won several nice purses from it. Or have ye forgotten?"

She shook her head in disbelief. Liam was a great boxer, very skilled, and the money was good when he won, but it was just too dangerous. Oftentimes, he had come home from boxing matches with both eyes blackened and stumbling in through the door, but smiling and happy as a lark as he held up a pouch filled with coins. "I worry that ye'll be killed. We don' need the money that badly."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his laughter ringing through the streets as they turned a corner. She loved the sound of it.

Suddenly, his laughter died, his body grew rigid, and all conversation stopped. "Stay close to me."

She knew well his body posture and that tone of voice as her head snapped up. A group of men were gathered on the street corner. They chortled menacingly, and from the way they eyed her, they were up to no good. One man fell off the curb as another grabbed the bottle he was holding.

"Don't let that good whiskey go to waste," he ordered in a strong Italian accent.

Megan's heart fell. There had been rivalry in New York between the Irish and Italians for some time, and lately, it was getting worse.

"Let's turn back," Megan whispered, slowing.

Liam nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they turned around. They were almost out of harm's way when one of the men yelled, "What do you have there, paddy?"

Liam stiffened at the racial slur, but Megan clung tightly to his arm, shaking her head. "No! Let it go, Liam! Let's go home."

He let out a deep breath and started walking again, but then he looked over his shoulder at the men.

"Yeah, that's right! I'm talking to you, you Irish mick! Bring back that Irish whore and I'll show her what a real man can do!" the Italian man yelled.

Liam pulled his sister to a stop.

"No, Liam!" Megan begged, holding his arm. "Ignore him! He's just a brute! Let's go!"

Laughter rang out from the men as they approached. "A brute, am I? Well, I could show you a better time than this Irish mick could."

Liam pulled her behind him. "Leave her alone! She's me sister."

The man laughed as he wobbled, his brown derby almost falling off his head. "All the better, then." He leered as he reached for her, slurring his words. "Come here, miss, and I'll show you what a real man is."

Quicker than Megan would have thought possible, Liam's fist flew at the man's nose, knocking him to the ground. "I said, leave her alone, dago!" While the man was trying to recover himself and his friends attended to him, Liam wrapped his arm protectively around his sister. "Let's go."

She nodded as they hurried away, but there were footsteps quickly approaching from behind. All of a sudden, a hand appeared on Liam's shoulder and spun him around. Liam ducked a punch just in time and got in a few good licks before the others ran up.

"Hold him!" one of them yelled, grabbing his arms.

"No! Leave him alone!" Megan hit one of the men's back. He turned around and pushed her to the ground.

Fury shone in Liam's eyes as he broke free and knocked three of them to the ground.

"Help!" Megan screamed as she hurried to the main street, looking for someone, anyone, who could help. "Men are attacking me brother and he needs help!" But the men passing by kept walking. She grabbed one man's arm. "Please, help! Some men are beatin' me brother! They're going to kill him if ye don' help!"

He shrugged out of her grasp as the woman on his arm huffed. "Get off me, woman! Go back to Ireland." Then he hurried away with his wife.

The people of New York had become accustomed to the gang fights between the Irish and Italians, and they didn't interfere.

"Please! Someone, help!" Tears streamed down her face as she stood in the street, looking for anyone who could help. Unable to find anyone, she hurried back, and her brother was lying in the street, bleeding. "No!"

One of the men saw her. "Let's get out of here!"

"Not without her," replied the drunken slob.

But another man grabbed his arm. "Leave her! Let's go before someone comes!"

The drunken man in the brown derby let out a deep breath as he wiped the blade of his knife along his pants, glancing over at her. Then he nodded once and they ran off down the street in the other direction, leaving Liam lying in the street, bleeding.

"Liam! No!" Megan yelled, rushing to his side. When she pulled his hand away, blood covered his stomach. "No! Liam, stay with me!" Megan slipped off her shawl, balled it up, and pressed it to the wound, tears streaming down her face. "I'll get some help–"

"No, Meggie." He grabbed her arm, leaving streaks of blood on her dress. "Don' ye leave me." He coughed, and blood ran from his mouth. "I won' be here to take care of ye anymore. I want ye to find a suitable husband for yerself and get married. Someone who will love ye and care for ye…." He coughed again and more blood poured from his mouth.

She wiped it away with her sleeve, tears running down her cheeks. "Liam, don't ye be talkin' like that—"

"Megan, promise me…." With more strength than she would have thought he had, he shook her shoulder. "That ye'll take care of yerself… promise me…."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held his shoulders, understanding. "I promise."

He smiled as he wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "Don't cry fer me, Meggie. Have a good life… and remember that I love ye." Then, his hand fell limp onto her lap.

"No, Liam!" She rocked his lifeless body back and forth in the street. "Don't ye leave me!" After a few minutes, her rocking slowed as she wiped the blood away from his face with her sleeve and then kissed his forehead. "I love ye, too, Liam. Thank ye. Thank ye for always being there for me, and for being a great brother."

She sobbed as she cradled his body to her, wishing she could turn back time, wishing that things could have worked out differently.

Finally, some men came and tried to pry his body loose from her arms.

"Miss, let him go," one man cooed. "We have to get the body out of the street… take it to the morgue—"

"Where were ye when I called fer help?" Megan pulled away from them, clutching her brother's lifeless body. "Where? I called fer help, but no one came! But ye come now that me brother's dead!"

The man sighed. "Sorry, lass, but no one wants to get involved."

She gestured over her brother's body. "Well, take a good look! This is what happens when no one wants to git involved!"

"Miss." Another man's kind voice was low behind her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "Let me take you home."

She pulled away and leaned down to pick up her shawl, covered in blood, lying by her brother's lifeless body. She bit her lower lip as she brushed her hand across his cheek one last time. "I promise," she whispered. The man gently touched her shoulders, but she shrugged away as she rose to her feet. Then she picked up her pillowcase and her brother's containing their worldly possessions, lifting her chin with pride. "I can walk meself, thank ye."

The man nodded. "Where can we find you… for your brother?"

Megan thought for a moment. There was no way that she was going to give these men her address. "I'll meet ye at the morgue."

She took a closer look at the man, but the look in his eyes seemed different. He was wearing a cowboy hat, unlike the derbies so fashionable with the other men in New York. "I'll take you home, miss. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Megan looked into his eyes. He appeared trustworthy enough and she was tired. "Okay, but don't ye be trying any funny business."

One corner of his lips almost smiled, looking at her with pity. "No funny business. I'll just walk with you… to make sure you get there safely."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then looked at her brother's lifeless body. The other men lifted him and placed him in a black carriage used for this purpose… to carry off the dead from the street. She bit her upper lip, stifling another wave of tears, relenting. As she and the man walked away, she looked into his kind eyes. He seemed different than the other men she had encountered that night.

"What's your name?"

"Trent Jericho."

They walked in silence through the streets of New York until they reached the morgue.

True to his word, Trent Jericho had been a perfect gentleman and had even stayed with her at the morgue while she made the arrangements. Since she had very little money, her brother was buried in a pine box. But instead of burying him in a pauper's cemetery, Trent had insisted on paying for a lovely plot under an oak tree in a Catholic cemetery. She had tried to object, but Trent had insisted.

After the arrangements were made, Trent walked with her to her door. "I'll be back tomorrow to escort you… to his funeral."

She smiled in appreciation. "Thank ye, but ye've done enough."

"No, I insist. You shouldn't have to go through this alone." He bit his lower lip and released it. "What happened to your brother was…." Trent let out a deep breath, leaving the thought unfinished. "Please, do me this honor."

She tried to smile, but she'd had been through too much. "Thank ye, Mr. Jerricho. I would be delighted if ye would accompany me tomorrow."

"I'll be here in the morning." Concern filled his eyes. "Will you be okay tonight, miss?"

"Yes, I will."

He paused for an awkward moment. "Well, good night, then."

"Mr. Jericho," Megan stopped him. He turned around, his eyebrows raised. "Thank ye so much… fer everything."

Trent forced a smile, tipping his hat to her. "I'm so very sorry for your loss, ma'am." He started to walk away, but then turned back. "I just wish I had arrived sooner."

Megan wished he had, too. It was nice to see that there were still good people left in the world. After he was gone, she walked into the house and closed the door behind her.

"Where have ye been?" Mrs. O'Malley blocked the entryway with her hands on her hips. "And where is that brother of yers?" Obviously, the woman was upset over something, which was nothing new.

"He's dead."

Mrs. O'Malley clutched her chest as her mouth opened. And for once, the woman was speechless.

Tired beyond words, Megan walked into the living room and collapsed onto a rocking chair and surrendered to grief. Everyone looked on in silence. For once, she wished she could be alone.

As she sobbed, she couldn't blame Liam. He had defended her honor. And she couldn't blame anyone other than the men who had killed him in cold blood, but she realized that she would probably never see those men again. As tears poured down her cheeks, she willed herself to remember the face of the man who had done the deed, hoping that one day she would see him again. And God help him if that day ever came.

After a while, she walked into the bedroom where Mrs. O'Malley and two of her children were sitting. "I want to clean up."

"Hmph!" Mrs. O'Malley scoffed but said nothing more to her as she took the children's hands. "Come along." Then she marched out the door.

When she was alone, Megan washed her face in the porcelain wash basin, vowing to take a bath in the communal bathhouse on the bottom floor when she could. No one stopped her or made a fuss. In fact, no one said anything at all. When she was finished, she opened the door so Mrs. O'Malley and her children could come back in, and then sat in a rocking chair in the corner, clutching hers and Liam's pillowcases balled up in her lap. Unable to sleep, she lit a candle. From the bed, Mrs. O'Malley huffed but turned over and said nothing. As Megan rocked back and forth, thoughts of her promise to Liam ran through her mind: to find a husband and live a better life than the one they had been living. And she had every intention of keeping that promise.

Megan turned over in the chair and an ad in the newspaper lying on the side table caught her eye. She picked it up and read. Banker seeking wife in Wyoming. Interested parties inquire with Madame Samantha Chase, Matchmaker. Then it gave the address.

Megan yawned, closing her eyes. Could she do it? Could she marry someone she didn't know for a chance at a better life? She opened her eyes and looked around. She was living in a tenement with two other families and no privacy. This wasn't the life she had been meant to live. No, something had to change. At that moment, Megan vowed not to go back to the factory. If she hadn't had to work so late, Liam would still be alive.

Megan looked at the ad once more. If she married a banker, her life would change, and money would no longer be an issue. But what if he was a cad? She let out a deep breath. Anything would be better than the life she was living now.

And what of love? She scoffed. Love. What had it gotten her? She had lost everyone she had ever loved. No, it would be better for her never to love anyone again. Megan yawned, vowing to see the matchmaker the next day… after her brother's funeral. Soon sleep found her clutching the ad to her chest along with hers and Liam's meager possessions, remembering her promise.