How Far the World Will Bend

How Far The World Will Bend - Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Pig and Pepper

Meg could not believe her eyes. The handsome, austere man standing before her was the same one who had appeared in her dreams. The details and surroundings had always appeared fuzzy and remote to her, but his face was etched in her memory in startling clarity.

It was him.

He pinned her with his electric blue gaze for one brief moment, his eyes curious and searching, before his attention was distracted. His face contorted with fury, and he shouted, "Stephens! Put that pipe out!" Racing down the small flight of steps, he sped after the man, crying, "I saw ye-Stephens, come here!" Catching him by the collar, he slammed him to the ground.

"Smoking again," the dark man ground out, "I warned ye!"

"Please, sir," the unfortunate Stephens mewled, but the man in black was relentless. Drawing back his large fist, he began pummeling the man unmercifully. When the wretched man moved away from his fists, his furious persecutor drew back his leg to give him a vicious kick.

At the sight of the altercation, something inside Meg snapped. After the damage she had witnessed at the hospital during the war, men bleeding and maimed in what she considered to be a senseless conflict, she could not tolerate violence of any form. Without thought, she rushed over to the angry man and grasped his arm, attempting to stop him from doing any further damage to the wretched Stephens.

"Stop it! Stop this at once! What are you doing?" she demanded passionately.

The man in black turned to her in angry astonishment and spat out, "Who are you and what are you doing back in here again?"

Ignoring his question, she demanded, "Stop beating this man! Who do you think you are, to inflict such injury upon another person?"

Without taking his eyes from hers, he snarled, "I thought I told you to get this woman out of here, Williams!"

"Yes, Mr. Thornton, I took her back to the office and asked her to stay," Williams explained in an aggrieved tone as he attempted to grasp Meg by the elbow.

She shrugged him off and knelt on the floor by the injured man. Lifting Stephens' face with her hands, she cast a critical eye over his features. Touching gentle hands to his nose in a careful examination, she finally heaved a relieved sigh. "Your nose is not broken, but you will have quite a bit of bruising," she informed the bewildered victim. She looked up at the dark man towering over her. "I need hot water and a clean cloth."

"Where do you think you are," he shouted, "an infirmary? Get this woman out of here," he barked again to Williams. Turning his attention back to the unfortunate wretch cowering on the floor, Mr. Thornton exclaimed, "Crawl away on your belly and don't come back. You know the rules."

"Master, please," Stephens whined.

Meg's head snapped up. "You are the Master of Marlborough Mills?" she asked abruptly.

He glared at her. "Yes, I am. This is my mill, and you are not welcome here."

"Please, miss," Mr. Williams urged, pulling her up to her feet.

She turned to leave but the angry man grasped her by her other forearm. "Wait," he exclaimed, staring at her hands. "Where did you get those gloves?" he asked in an odd voice.

Meg gazed stupidly at her hands. She had forgotten that she had put the gloves on. "I removed them from a desk..." she responded blankly.

"Those are my gloves. I misplaced those weeks ago. Where did you find them?" he demanded.

Meg looked at him steadily. "They were in your office. I put them on because my hands were cold. I had no intention of taking your property. I merely wished to keep my hands warm while I waited. I forgot I had them on...." Her voice trailed off. She could not tell him that sixty years from now, she would be searching for clues about the riot at the mill, a riot which had not yet occurred. Mentally chastising herself to be careful in her speech, she quickly stripped the gloves from her hands and held them out to him. "I am very sorry. I was not trying to steal them. Here, please take them back."