Copyright © 2002 Wendy Lindstrom. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author. “The awesome underlying emotional power of Ms. Lindstrom's story grabs hold as she deftly explores the love between father and child, friends, and the deep, sometimes ambiguous bonds between brothers...guaranteed to move you to tears and even laughter. Shades of Honor is a portent of great things to come from a very powerful new voice in the genre." —Romantic Times "A perfect ten...will amaze readers by the depth of emotion...Shades of Honor is one story that should not be missed!" —Romance Reviews Today Fredonia, New York, August 1870 He always knew he’d come back. Everything he’d ever wanted was here. Radford Grayson inhaled pine-scented air deep into his lungs and listened to the whine of a saw blade chewing through dense wood. It echoed along Canadaway Creek, which cut a deep, winding path behind the sawmill and emptied into Lake Erie a few miles north of Fredonia. The sound made Radford’s legs tingle from the memory of standing on the vibrating sawmill table as a boy, feeding the huge whirring blade for his father. He missed the rhythmic sound of saws and the gasp and belch of the old boiler. He missed the spongy feel of sawdust-littered earth beneath his feet and the constant squabbling of his three younger brothers. He needed to stay this time. Even if it meant living a lie. Rebecca was depending on him. Radford had let her down so often, his four-year-old daughter feared everything. Even now, he could feel her tremble as she clutched her blanket and cowered against his thigh. “Let’s move over there,” Radford said, then led her to the far end of the building where it was quieter. Kneeling, he cupped her face in his palms, vowing to himself that it would be the last time he uprooted her, that they would make a real home in this small village of Fredonia that held so many of his cherished memories. “I’ll tell Uncle Kyle to stop the noise, then come get you,” he said, hoping it was Kyle running the saw. Rebecca caught his hand. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.” “I’m just going inside this building. I’ll only be gone a few seconds.” As though she had expected his answer, Rebecca’s hand slipped from his. Eyes full of resignation, she sat on the mill steps, slowly drawing her knees up until her toes pointed and her heels rested against the back of the stair tread. She bunched her blanket on her knees and laid her head on it, staring silently at the swaying maple trees beside the barn. Her dejection pierced Radford, but he knew the noise inside the building would panic her more than his momentary absence. “I’ll hurry, sprite.” He stroked her brown curls, then started up the stairs. “You promised, Daddy...” Those three little words, spoken so softly to his back, stopped Radford mid-stride. He had promised not to leave her again. Rebecca’s fear of being without him was real. Radford’s last job with the railroad had taken him away too many times when she’d begged him not to leave her. In infancy, she’d been abandoned by her own mother. Olivia Jordon had refused to sacrifice her life as a ballerina for marriage and motherhood. Later, Rebecca’s nanny, the only woman Rebecca had grown to love, began her own family and moved away. The last nanny had abused Rebecca so badly that his daughter hadn’t spoken for a month after Radford dismissed the wretched woman. No wonder Rebecca was afraid to be left alone. Though it would have only taken a moment to hail his brother, Radford turned back, unwilling to subject Rebecca to any more unnecessary doubt. He knelt down and offered his hand, melting at the sudden joy reflected in her eyes. “We’ll see if we can get Uncle Kyle’s attention another way.” Radford carried Rebecca around a stack of hewn trees, marveling at the size of his father’s once-small operation. Thrilled with the chance to work the sawmill again, Radford surveyed the new two-hundred-foot plank structure that had replaced his father’s old building. It boasted a slab-wood sign that read Grayson's Lumber and Timber Works hanging proudly over a door made from several unmatched slats. Radford chuckled at the irony of a lumber mill displaying its scrap in such an obvious manner. He knew immediately it had to be Kyle's idea. Though only a year younger than Radford, Kyle had established himself as a businessman by the age of ten. Radford smiled, remembering how Kyle had started selling the sawdust from the mill as insulation around the foundation of homes and businesses, and how he’d wanted Radford to become his partner. But Radford had been busy learning to run the family sawmill for their father, who had grown too crippled to endure the long days. Radford expected to spend his life building their family sawmill, but the war came and he enlisted in the Union Army. After his first bloody battle, Radford was so ashamed of his actions, he’d lost the ability to come home and look his father in the eyes, or endure his brother’s misplaced admiration. The thought of Kyle, and his two younger brothers, Duke and Boyd, filled Radford with an urgent need to see them. Tightening his arms around Rebecca, he turned a slow circle, drinking in the glorious feel and scent of home. He lowered her to the ground, then scooped up a handful of earth and wood fragments. “Smell that, sprite? That’s white pine and rich farming soil. Home, sweetheart.” He opened Rebecca’s hand and placed the sawdust- speckled soil in her palm, then smiled when she sniffed it. “It smells like...” Her brow furrowed and she sniffed again. “Like...Christmas.” “It is, sweetheart.” He pressed her hand to his heart. “In here, it is.” Rebecca’s gaze shifted and she pointed behind him. “Who’s that?” Radford looked over his shoulder, then stood. The yard was deserted except for a skinny boy in a wrinkled shirt and baggy brown britches who was dragging a thick iron chain from the barn. He watched with admiration as the determined lad struggled to pull the heavy iron rope toward his feed wagon. After a moment the boy paused, drew his shirtsleeve across his forehead, and glanced at the mill with an audible sigh. That’s when Radford’s curiosity turned to true amazement. It wasn't a lad at all. It was a girl. Gads! It was Evie Tucker! The sight of Kyle’s fiancée in boots and britches caught Radford off guard. He thought Evelyn would have outgrown her boyish ways at age twenty-one. The last time he’d seen her was four years earlier at his father’s funeral. Though she had worn a dress on that occasion, Radford had been too blinded by grief to notice more than Evelyn’s blossoming figure. Now she seemed taller and thinner, though far from feminine in her men’s clothing, especially with her long, black hair twisted in an unflattering braid. Why, he wondered, did females insist on hiding what men found most sensual in a woman? Well, Evelyn’s figure, or lack of one, was Kyle’s concern. Not Radford’s. He took Rebecca’s hand. “Let’s go meet your future Aunt Evelyn,” he said, crossing the yard slowly to accommodate Rebecca’s short legs. Despite Evelyn’s disheveled appearance, Radford smiled to himself as they approached his old neighbor. To a man who had lived with constant change most of his twenty-five years, there was something welcoming in the familiar sight of Evelyn in boy’s clothing. It reminded him of his youth when he and his brothers had played with Evelyn, when his conscience was clear and he could sleep without malignant nightmares that ate his soul. Radford ran his thumb over Rebecca’s small hand, the feel of her soft skin drawing his mind away from the past. He halted behind Evelyn. “Need some help, Tomboy?” Evelyn froze with the chain clenched in her tired, callused hands. There was only one person who had ever called her Tomboy. The last time she’d heard that nickname was the day Radford left for Syracuse with her father to join the 149th NY Volunteers. Slowly, Evelyn turned to view a man she hadn’t seen since she was seventeen. Tall, lean, and proud, Radford still stood like a soldier. Power radiated from him, but there was a compelling warmth in Radford’s smile that drew Evelyn’s eyes to his. A breeze played with the dark hair tangled in his collar while Evelyn’s wandering gaze reacquainted her with Radford Grayson. “Have I changed so much that you don’t recognize me?” Evelyn flinched. What a hen-witted female she was to be gawking at Radford as if he was a prince from one of her girlhood stories. All the Grayson men were wickedly handsome. She shouldn’t have expected Radford to be anything less, but merciful heaven, she hadn’t expected him to be so...changed. Drawing a deep breath, Evelyn strove for a calm she couldn’t quite manage. “Kyle and I thought you were coming in tomorrow or we would have picked you up at the train station.” He waved aside her concern. “I hailed an omnibus in Dunkirk that brought us to Fredonia.” He shook his head, his dark eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize the town had changed so much. The only thing familiar was the Common. The maple trees and twin fountains are looking older, but the parks are the way I remember them.”  “You walked clear out Liberty Street with Rebecca?” Evelyn asked, telling herself to stop staring, but unable to obey her own command. “It’s only a mile. I enjoyed the walk.” “Did you stop to see Papa or your mother when you passed?” Radford’s expression grew wistful as he surveyed the empty yard. “I wanted to come here first.” After seconds of silence, he turned back and frowned at the chain in Evelyn’s shaking hands. “Why isn’t Kyle helping you with this?” “I can manage alone,” Evelyn said, though her hands ached from gripping the thick iron links. “That doesn’t mean you should.” Radford took the burden from her and coiled it over his forearm with slow, measured movements that seemed to require little effort compared to her mighty struggle. Evelyn flexed her stiff fingers. With the decline of her father’s health, she had, by necessity, found ways to manage their livery on her own. Though she realized she didn’t have the strength to lift a chain that size, she knew she could feed it into the wagon a few feet at a time. It wasn’t Kyle’s lack of consideration that had left her struggling on her own. He would have helped her had she only thought to ask him. Still, Radford’s unsolicited assistance made Evelyn feel uncomfortable, as though he’d rescued some fair damsel from distress. The ridiculous image nearly made Evelyn snort. She was far from being a fair damsel, and the source of her distress was standing right in front of her. Lord, but she couldn’t drag her gaze away from Radford’s handsome face. Something in his voice seemed warmer, hopeful, not so brittle and angry anymore. His smile reached his eyes now. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t look away when he caught her staring. With a small grunt, Radford heaved the chain onto the bed of the wagon, then stepped back and dusted his hands against his trousers. “Who’s running the saw?” “Kyle,” Evelyn answered. “Duke and Boyd left at six-thirty, but Kyle had a job he wanted to finish tonight. He’ll be a while, yet.” Evelyn glanced down at Rebecca who stood like a miniature statue beside Radford. “I assume this is Rebecca?” A proud smile lifted Radford’s lips and he captured his daughter’s hand. “Can you say hello to your aunt?” he asked, but Rebecca hid her face behind the long length of his thigh. Radford gave Rebecca a comforting pat, his fingers spanning the breadth of her tiny shoulders. “I guess the trip wore her out.” Noting gentleness in the hands that Radford once wore as fists, Evelyn trailed her gaze up his forearm. It was tanned and corded with muscle that shifted each time he stroked his daughter’s small back. Intrigued by the contradiction of strength and gentleness, Evelyn wondered if he’d finally escaped the demons that drove him away years earlier. He met her eyes and smiled. A rush of warmth slammed into Evelyn’s chest and she glanced away. How unfair that Radford should be clean and handsome while she was covered with hay-dust and smelled like her livery. He probably thought Kyle was out of his mind to be marrying her. To hide her unease, and to soothe Rebecca’s, Evelyn squatted to the child’s level. “I used to have a yellow blanket just like yours,” she said, giving it a friendly tug, “but your uncle Kyle tossed it in our well. I cried until your daddy brought his fishing pole over and tried to fish it out for me.” Evelyn left the story unfinished, thinking Rebecca would be curious enough to ask what happened; instead she tugged at her daddy’s hand until Radford picked her up. Evelyn stood. “I take it Rebecca doesn’t like stories?” “She’s just shy.” “Well, we’ll get her over that, won’t we?” Evelyn said, giving Rebecca a soft pat on the leg. Both Radford and Rebecca stiffened. “Please don’t do that.” The warning in Radford’s voice jerked Evelyn’s gaze to his face. “Do what?” she asked, confused by their odd response to a natural act of affection. “Touch her. It frightens her.” Though Evelyn knew firsthand a father’s protective instinct toward his daughter, Radford’s overreaction was unusual. So was Rebecca’s cowering. “A friendly pat shouldn’t frighten any child.” “I agree,” Radford said. “But Rebecca is too young to understand that you won’t hurt her. She’s afraid. That’s all that matters to me.” “Then you should explain...that is, maybe I could help her if...” Evelyn’s sentence trailed off as she stepped away from them. “Never mind.” Radford felt Rebecca relaxing as he rubbed her back. She was like this with everyone. Trouble was, she would eventually warm up to Evelyn and that would cause bigger problems. He studied Evelyn with renewed curiosity and she met his gaze unflinchingly. Her quiet display of strength reminded Radford of her father, of the fierce pride that had sparked William’s eyes during the war. Now Radford could understand what Kyle saw in Evelyn Tucker. A backbone of steel. What sort of woman had she become? Though Radford had rarely thought of her over the years, the sparkle of an emerald ring or necklace had always conjured the vision of a wild girl with flashing green eyes. They were still the emeralds he remembered, but shadowed now. Yet, as Evelyn stood before him, dirty and disheveled, there was a restless energy that intrigued him, that made him want to know what she was thinking. Radford gave himself a mental shake. What the devil was he doing? He couldn’t afford to be interested in Evelyn. All he wanted was peace. To work an honest job that he could be proud of. To build a comfortable home where Rebecca could learn to laugh again. And to share an occasional mug with his brothers after a day of working beside them in the mill. That was enough. “I’d better go see Kyle, then get over to Ma’s,” he said, aware of their growing mutual discomfort. “Would you tell him I’ll be up in a minute?” With a relieved nod, Radford went to find his brother. At one end of the building a set of wide double doors was thrown open to the August evening. Steam spat from a huge, gasping boiler housed deep in the interior, then another scream from the mighty saw blades split the air. Rebecca clapped her hands to her ears and cowered against Radford’s neck. When the saw finished its pass, Radford yelled inside and waved Rebecca’s blanket overhead. “Kyle! Stop that noise and come meet your niece!” Kyle’s head came up and he faced in Radford’s direction for several seconds before straightening his stance. “Radford?” His voice boomed from the other end of the building. “What the hell are you doing here?” Radford laughed at Kyle’s lack of preamble. “Looking for a job. You hiring?” There was no response at Kyle’s end except the quieting of equipment and whistling sound of steam escaping in an endless, drawn-out sigh. Finally, Kyle walked toward them from the shadowed depths of the building. Joyful anticipation expanded Radford’s chest. It had been so long. So many wasted years. When Kyle stepped into the waning sunlight, Radford eyed him with pride. His brother had become a giant of a man. Wider in build than Radford, though an inch or two shorter, Kyle still easily topped six feet. Radford couldn’t begin to imagine the changes he would find in Duke and Boyd. Kyle extended his hand. “You’re early.” Radford experienced a moment of confusion before it dawned on him that Kyle wasn’t going to welcome him home with the backslapping hug he’d expected. Mile after mile of the trip from Boston, Radford had staved off anxiety with visions of a joyful, rollicking reunion with his brothers. Kyle was offering a handshake. Hope began slipping away like steam from the cooling boiler, but Radford took Kyle’s broad hand in his and gave it a hard shake. What could he expect after being absent since the war? Though he’d come home occasionally during the last five years, he’d never stayed more than a few weeks before his shame drove him away again. It wouldn’t this time, he vowed silently. Radford glanced at the mill building. “You’ve made changes while I’ve been away.” “We expanded the building and bought a new mill so we could keep up with Tom Drake. You remember Tom?” “Of course. Our toughest competitor with the pretty daughter.” Kyle nodded, but turned his attention to Rebecca who was peeking at him. A grin climbed his cheek as he studied her. “She resembles her uncle Boyd, but you’d better hope she doesn’t grow up to be as wild as he is.” Radford glanced at Rebecca and knew that wildness would be a welcome change from her frightening withdrawal. “Come on,” Kyle said, gesturing for Radford to follow him. “I’ll show you the mill.” They entered the building and stopped by the saw where Kyle proudly laid his hand on the heavy iron husk. “This girl has doubled our output. These dual saws chew through twenty thousand feet of timber a day. The smaller saw speeds up our cutting time and allows us to use thinner blades, which means less kerf and sawdust waste.” Radford remembered his father’s crude mill. The thought of running the new, powerful machine made his hands itch. A wide leather drive belt wove through a series of pulley wheels and up over a mandrel shaft that was powered by a stationary engine and boiler. A sawdust elevator had also been attached to the mandrel shaft to carry the waste outside where three huge piles spilled across the ground. “Are you still selling the sawdust?” “Of course,” Kyle said as if it was a dumb question. Radford laughed, then scanned the interior of the building. “Why are those logs wet?” he asked, balancing Rebecca on one arm to point at a nearby stack of logs. “We rinsed them. It saves the blades from eating dirt so we spend less time sharpening them.” No wonder they had grown so much, Radford thought with pride. Fighting the sudden urge to fire up the saws, wrap his hands around the metal levers, and finish slabbing the white pine waiting on the carriage table, Radford throttled back his excitement. Tomorrow, he would do it. He’d stand beside the huge blades and feel the vibrations shimmy his legs. He’d look over and see his brothers and pretend he heard his father’s voice shouting orders in the yard. Then he could silence the other voices and everything would be all right again. “Let’s go out through the office so I can lock up,” Kyle said, waving Radford and Rebecca into a room with a thick maple table in the center. The walls were buried behind metal hand files, saw blades, log hooks, and shaving knives. “It's not pretty,” Kyle said, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind them, “but we’re doing a good business. Since I was left in charge, I did what I thought best.” The meaning behind Kyle’s words didn’t elude Radford. He knew he hadn’t been there for his younger brothers when they needed him to run the mill after their father died. The best he’d been able to do was send money home to keep them going. More than anything, Radford had wanted to resume his normal life after the war, but he couldn’t suppress the nightmares or his violent physical reactions caused by them. His lack of control had shamed him so deeply that he moved to Boston to escape the sympathy in his brothers’ eyes. Unfortunately, his leaving had forced Kyle to run the mill instead of pursuing the law degree he’d wanted, and though Kyle had never said anything, Radford could still sense his brother’s resentment. “You’ve done a great job, Kyle. I wouldn’t have changed a thing,” Radford said with sincerity. He glanced at Rebecca, who had suddenly perked up at the sound of Evelyn’s wagon rattling across the yard. When she pulled up, Kyle propped his elbow on the side rail. “I guess your father wasn’t up to the ride tonight. I thought he was feeling better.” Evelyn shook her head. “He thinks he is, but he was too tired to even climb the stairs. He’s napping on the sofa.” Radford’s chest constricted with fear. “What’s wrong with William?” he asked, praying it was only a cold or sore back, but knowing from their shared experience in battle that it would take more than that to keep William Tucker down. “He’s had seizures,” Kyle said. Radford met Evelyn’s worried gaze as she filled him in. “He had his first one six months ago. The second one happened three months later. He got his strength back after his first attack of apoplexy, but the last time drained him. He can talk now, but he still needs a cane to walk.” Radford’s gut tightened with the instinctive need to protect William, the man who’d been like a father, his friend, his mentor since he was a boy. Dammit, they had survived a war and too many years of hell together for William to be laid low by some inexplicable seizure. “Has he seen a doctor? A good one?” “Both times,” Kyle said. “And he’s been told he won’t be able to work the livery anymore. Evelyn has been running it for him for the last six months, but it’s not doing so well.” He glanced at Evelyn. “It’s not her fault. She manages fine and works hard, but it’s too much for her.” Evelyn straightened on her seat and opened her mouth, but Kyle held up his hand. “It is, Ev. You’re killing yourself.” Ignoring her scowl, he turned to Radford. “Naturally William will be passing the livery to Evelyn and me when we marry, and I’d like you to run it for me— if you’re staying, of course.” “What?” Radford and Evelyn asked in shocked unison, their glances clashing before flying back to Kyle. “I have all the men I need at the mill. William can’t work, and despite what Evelyn says, she can’t run the livery alone,” he said, glancing at Evelyn but directing his statement to Radford. Radford couldn’t have been more shocked or offended had Kyle struck Rebecca. Radford owned a fourth of their mill. Was Kyle worried that Radford had come home to reclaim his position as eldest? Was that why he was trying to keep him out of the mill? All Radford wanted was to work with his brothers. He just wanted to be a part of their life and to have them in his. “I had planned to have one of my men help in the livery, but I’d feel better knowing you’re there. I need someone I can trust, Radford. I’m too busy building Evelyn a house and running the mill to supervise the livery.” Radford’s heart contracted so hard, he felt the brutal wrench clear to the pit of his stomach. His arms weakened and he lowered Rebecca to the ground, standing her at his side before he dropped her. Kyle didn’t want him here. It was in his eyes. He was welcoming Radford home, but not back to the mill. “William needs help,” Kyle continued, pecking away at Radford’s conscience, seemingly oblivious to the dreams that were shattering within him. Panic welled up inside Radford, but he forced it down. Maybe he had expected too much. Maybe Kyle needed time to adjust, to realize that Radford only wanted to be a part of the family again. Evelyn shot a panicked look at Radford then turned to Kyle. “I can manage alone for a while longer if you can’t spare one of your crew right now.” “No you can’t, Ev. I’d rather you didn’t work at all, but until we’re married, I can’t change that or make any decisions about the livery without your father’s consent. It’ll be a relief knowing Radford is there taking care of things,” Kyle said, as if the issue had been decided. He held up his hand to stop her argument. “We can talk about this later. Your father is set on having Radford run the livery. He’s even extended an invitation for Radford and Rebecca to stay with you, which should make it more convenient for everyone.” Evelyn’s face blanched and Radford thought his knees were going to fail him. Everything he believed he’d come home to had turned to ashes. Kyle had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome at the mill. And if Evelyn’s offended expression was any indication, he wasn’t welcome in her livery, either. In the midst of this realization, Radford reached down and captured his daughter’s hand, reminding himself of the single most important reason he’d come home. Rebecca. He would sacrifice or endure anything for his daughter. “Why hasn’t Papa said anything to me about this?” Evelyn asked Kyle. “The subject came up last night during our euchre game while you were asleep. Your father and my mother got into a heck of a row over where Radford and Rebecca would be staying. They both wanted them. Ma said her son belonged at home. William claimed he’ll be lost in an empty house when you marry me and move out.” Kyle grinned. “If you hadn’t gone up to bed you could have watched the show. It was the first time I saw my mother lose an argument.” Kyle turned back to Radford. “William needs your help, Radford. He’s hoping you’ll lend a hand.” Radford glanced at Evelyn who kept her eyes downcast, and he knew she didn’t like the situation any better than he did. “Will you do it?” Kyle clapped a hand on Radford’s shoulder in the first truly warm gesture he’d shown him since arriving. But it had come too late. Several uncomfortable seconds passed while Radford struggled to mask his painful disappointment and inexplicable sadness. Consumed by a fierce longing to restore himself to his family, Radford knew he couldn’t force Kyle to accept him. This time he’d have to earn his place. And it was time he repaid William for saving his life at Gettysburg. Tightening his hold on Rebecca’s hand, Radford unclenched his aching jaw. “I’ll do it,” he said hoarsely.   o0o Evelyn couldn’t stifle her gasp. She didn’t want Radford in her livery! She needed a place where she could be herself. Her horses didn’t care that she wore britches and couldn’t dance. They didn’t know she couldn’t dress her hair or flirt or stitch a straight seam. She could talk to the horses about remedies for colic, the price of oats and linseed oil, and how to repair a harness. Outside the livery, Evelyn was a misfit. She was unable to connect with anyone, male or female. Even with Kyle, it was difficult to communicate. She couldn’t imagine how awkward she would feel in Radford’s presence. “What’s wrong, Ev?” Kyle asked. She only shrugged. Kyle had changed so much in the past few years that Evelyn wouldn’t know how to share her concerns with him even if she dared to. It was Radford’s fault. If he had stayed after the war and done his duty as eldest son, Kyle wouldn’t have been forced to become the ambitious businessman she barely knew anymore. During the past five years, he’d grown so focused on the mill it seemed Kyle no longer even noticed Evelyn. She sighed and picked at her chipped fingernail. Maybe their marriage would resurrect the closeness and friendship they had once shared. Maybe then Kyle would notice that she’d become a woman, albeit a lonely one uncomfortable in her own skin, but still a woman.  The old Kyle would have noticed the difference. He’d always understood her. Even when they were children, Kyle was the only person she could depend on, who could comfort her. It was Kyle’s shoulder Evelyn had cried on when her mother died laboring to have a son who didn’t survive the grueling birth. All her life, Kyle had been a steadfast, dependable friend. But Evelyn wanted more than friendship. She wanted love. Kyle wiped his neck with a handkerchief then blew out a tired breath. “This is the only way I can help with the livery right now, Ev.” “I understand,” she said. When Kyle wasn’t working at the mill, he was working on their house. He didn’t have time to help her shovel horse dung. Evelyn accepted the fact that she needed a man in her livery to appease society’s narrow-minded sense of propriety, and to help her with the daily labor that physically drained her. She’d expected a man from Kyle’s crew, but it looked as if it would be Radford. She laced her fingers and squeezed her hands between her knees, wondering how she would ever keep her eyes on her work with Radford in her livery. © WendyLindstrom2011 Chapter One