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Back A Man of Honor
Chapters (71)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Part Two
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Part Three
  38. Thirty-Three
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Part Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Part Five
  61. Fifty-Four
  62. Fifty-Five
  63. Fifty-Six
  64. Fifty-Seven
  65. Fifty-Eight
  66. Fifty-Nine
  67. Sixty
  68. Sixty-One
  69. Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
  70. About the Author
  71. Newsletter Sign-up

Blackie had drawn closer, and he noticed she had the greenest eyes he had ever seen. And now they looked wary, and her face was stern. Yorkshire folk were suspicious, he knew. He said, “I met the Squire in Leeds. He’d heard I used to be a navvy, working on the canal. This told him I was strong and a good worker. And he knew my uncle.”

The girl moved out from behind the outcropping of rocks, and said in a more controlled tone, “I heard a navvy was coming ter the Hall. I’m going there, so ye can walk with me. What’s yer name then? Or don’t ye have one?” She sounded scathing, and just a bit haughty.

Blackie laughed a deep belly laugh. “Sure an’ I do, I swear on the heads of the Blessed Saints. Shane O’Neill’s the name, but the whole world calls me Blackie.”

The girl looked up at him, trying to see him better in the vaporous mists. She decided he must be Irish, because of his name and the singsong voice he had, a sort of lilt in his speech.

“And what might ye be called?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The girl did not answer. She believed the less that people knew about you the safer you were. And if they knew nothing at all, they could not harm you. And so she did not answer him.

“Come on, little colleen. What’s yer name?”

“Emma. Emma Harte’s me name,” she finally said.

“So let’s be a-marching, Emma. Devilish cold ’tis out here.”

“Come on,” she muttered, and hurried ahead of him, leading the way out of Ramsden Ghyll, and up onto a flat piece of land, a plateau of moors that led directly to the Hall.

Within a short while, the mist had cleared, and Emma stole a glance at Blackie, her curiosity getting the better of her.

To her surprise, he looked young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. She wasn’t sure. But she was sure of one thing, his kindness. It had echoed in his voice when he had spoken to her in the Ghyll, and now it was reflected in his face. Instinctively, she knew he was a good man.

Blackie smiled back at her, taken by her pretty face and those emerald eyes. “So, where is the Hall, colleen?” he asked.

“Ye can’t see it from here. But it’s not far. Just over the crest.” She laughed. “I’ll show ye!” she exclaimed, somewhat taken with her new friend.

“Do ye live nearby?” Blackie asked, as they headed toward the crest of moors in front of them.

“At the edge of the moors back yonder. In a cul-de-sac called Top Fold, the highest part of Fairley village. I’d just been walking five minutes when I heard ye blundering behind me.”