Free Forbidden Love by Shirley Martin

Shall we discuss something more congenial, gentlemen?"
    The talk turned to culture, prompting one of the ladies to remark that Pittsburgh should some day have a first-class museum, as New York and Philadelphia had.
    "Perhaps we eventually shall," he replied, the considerate host once more.
      Hours later, the horses' hooves clattered along the asphalt streets while the carriage followed the twists and turns of the winding thoroughfares. The front wheels hit a rut in the street, prompting Lisa to grasp the strap beside her. Observing William's face across from her, she wondered if he agreed with Frick's harsh warnings about the steelworkers' union.
    "William, why is Mr. Frick so determined to cut the wages of the steelworkers?" With a shiver, she drew her woolen cape closer around her shoulders, her breath frosting in the frigid air.
    "If that question isn't like a woman," he said in his condescending manner. "Obviously, if Mr. Frick granted the workers what they wanted, it would reduce the profits of the Carnegie Steel Company."
    "But Mr. Frick is already a millionaire," she pointed out with truth. "Why, his paintings must be worth a fortune."
    "Yes, and he's earned every cent he's made, don't you agree? He's done quite well by virtue of hard work!" William's face held a look of amused exasperation. "Such a heavy subject for a young lady . . ."
    "And Mr. Carnegie, living like a king in Scotland , not even bothering his head about the company he owns." For heaven's sake! One would think Carnegie might at least stay in this country to oversee possible trouble at the mill.
    "Carnegie?" William repeated. "He keeps in touch with Frick by telegraph. It's not as if he has no idea of what's happening here. Scotland isn't darkest Africa , you know." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "In any event, I'm banking on Frick's promise to keep wages low so that profits remain high."
    "Why should their wages matter to you?"
    "I thought you knew, my dear. Didn't I ever tell you? I'm one of the biggest stockholders in the Carnegie Steel Company." He reached inside his vest pocket for a cigar and matches as they neared Ellsworth Avenue .
    "But what about the steelworkers?"
      "Don't tell me you support those laborers! Expendable, that's what they are . . . easy to replace. And if memory serves me, your father lost a great deal of money when the coke workers went on strike in '86."
    "I'll admit you have a point there. That's one of the reasons why we were in such precarious financial condition when my father died." As she looked out the carriage window, she noted the familiar mansions on her street, visible in brilliant clarity by the silver light of a full moon. "On the other hand," she felt the need to say, " the steelworkers have a right to a decent wage."
    He sneered. "They have the duty to do their job and not complain."
    Snowflakes tapped against the window, and Lisa shivered again, whether from the cold or worry, she didn't know. Happy to be home, she hugged her cape around her, preparing to leave the carriage.
    So many conflicting thoughts raged through her mind. Despite her attraction for Owen, she agreed with William's and Mr. Frick's attitude toward the Amalgamated. If the steelworkers went on strike, the results would be unfortunate for everyone, workers and stockholders alike. And what if William lost much money? Would she face the threat of poverty again?
     
    * * *
     
     
    The darkness of the long winter night enveloped Homestead as Anton Hrajak wended his way through the twisting alleys of the Second Ward, his stocky body braced against the cold. On his way to a double shift at the Rankin mill, he'd be working twenty-four hours straight. How he dreaded the double shift, yet he considered it a mixed blessing. After he came home Monday morning, he'd be free for one whole day. Thank God!
    Turning his coat collar up, he waited outside a nameless, faceless tenement house on Third Avenue , standing near an outdoor privy that served