Dawn of the Golden Promise by BJ Hoff Read Free Book Online

force would agree,” he admitted.
    Sara saw his eyes suddenly go hard as his attention shifted to the other side of the street. “I expect we can thank the likes of blighters like her husband for much of the madness,” he bit out, jerking his head in the direction of his gaze.
    Frowning, Sara turned to look. On the opposite side of the street stood Alice Walsh, seemingly absorbed in a conversation with her children. Isabel Walsh, a rather thickset girl who looked dreadfully overdressed in a yellow ruffled frock, and Henry, a thin-faced boy with thick spectacles, stood on either side of their mother. Both seemed to be talking at once.
    Evan, too, looked in Alice Walsh’s direction. “I suppose,” he said, “there is no disputing her husband’s reputation. But as for M-Mrs. Walsh herself—I cannot say enough good things about her.”
    Michael nodded, but his tone was grudging. “Aye, Sara thinks well of the woman, too. She does seem a decent sort, but how do you account for her getting mixed up with an animal like Walsh?”
    Sara heard the old, familiar animosity in his tone. It was always like this. The slightest mention of Patrick Walsh would ignite the spark of anger in his eyes and bring an edge of bitterness to his voice.
    Sometimes she feared Michael had made the destruction of Patrick Walsh his life’s work, to the exclusion of all else. She was convinced that he had even put aside his political ambitions, at least for the time being, because of his obsession with Walsh.
    When she tried to talk to him about it, he only pretended to listen. He evaded her questions, and made light of her misgivings. Even though Walsh had been directly responsible for the brutal attack on Michael’s son, Tierney—and the boy’s forced exile to Ireland—Michael invariably denied Sara’s suggestions that his fixation on Walsh might be excessive.
    Yet Sara knew beyond the slightest doubt that Michael had set the entire force of his will to achieving one goal: to bring Patrick Walsh to justice. And he would not stop until he had accomplished his aim.
    Despite the scorching temperature of the day, Sara shivered. She could not help but wonder whether Patrick Walsh was aware of Michael’s enmity. And if he was, what ends might he go to in order to thwart him?

    Alice Walsh was only half listening to Isabel’s complaints about the heat and Henry’s criticism of the structural design of Whittaker House. Her thoughts kept darting back to the events of the day.
    She was so pleased for Evan Whittaker and what this new venture was going to mean to the homeless children throughout the city. She longed to cross the street and congratulate him, but, seeing him in the company of Sara Burke and her husband, she decided against it.
    Sara would be cordial, of course; she was unfailingly gracious, even friendly, when they met. But the captain…
    Alice bit her lip, all too aware of what to expect from Captain Burke. The forced smile, the grudging concession to a polite greeting, followed by the fixed look that stopped just short of open disdain. It was always the same. She sensed that Captain Burke’s reaction to her was kindled by his hostility toward Patrick, and his silent disapproval hurt.
    She didn’t understand the enmity between the policeman and her husband. Only lately had she begun to suspect that she might not want to understand. She felt a growing apprehension about the cause of the deep-seated animosity between the two men; indeed, she had found herself unwilling to probe too deeply, for fear of what she might discover.
    Worse still, whenever she thought of the situation at all, she automatically blamed her husband, as if the fault were entirely his. There had been a time when it would have been virtually impossible for her to blame Patrick for anything. The fact that she did so now, and did it so readily, troubled her with a sense of guilt she could not