A.J. slapped him on his back and eased away, pausing as he was about to return to his captain’s quarters. “Never regret your son. For too many are denied that dream.”
Declan watched A.J.’s retreating back, listening as his footsteps faded away. Men’s voices called out while playing cards, and Declan turned away from any temptation to join in. Without a brother by his side, he had no desire to be taken in by a card shark. Instead Declan considered A.J.’s words and attempted to find his courage to face his family.
Chapter 2
Fort Benton, Montana Territory, June 1867
A week later, the steamboat docked in Fort Benton on a hot, dry day in early June. Declan stood at the railing, searching for any sign of his brothers or father. However, no one had come to meet this boat, as it approached in the early evening hours. Whatever O’Rourke supplies that were on this boat would be set aside for retrieval tomorrow. Declan shook A.J.’s hand, ensuring he knew to visit him at the O’Rourke warehouse or home, and disembarked with Samantha and Gavin.
“Don’t worry about our things,” he murmured to her. “They’ll be delivered.” He held Gavin and motioned for her to follow him, as he made his way across the muddy Front Street, cut up by myriad wagon ruts. He only gave a passing glance at the thriving, boisterous, and burgeoning town and its businesses along the river. Instead he cut down a side street, away from the main thoroughfare that hugged the Missouri River.
“Home,” he murmured, when he saw the large two-story house with a chicken coop in the back. An addition off the rear of the home ruined the precise symmetry of the house but afforded more space inside for the family. “We’re a large family, Samantha,” he murmured. “But they’ll accept you.” He saw the much younger woman shiver, before forcing a look of bored interest. “There’s no need to be terrified.”
Holding a slumbering Gavin to his chest, he approached the rear porch. Memories of racing inside after his brothers and up the stairs assailed him. Of sitting beside his youngest sister, Maggie, and chatting with her. Of watching his niece, Maura, play as she chased a chicken. How much had everyone changed in his absence? Would they truly want him back?
With a deep breath to ease his own doubts, Declan eased open the kitchen door just a hair, his gaze alert and his head cocked to one side, as he listened for the usual family chatter. When he heard the cacophony of conversation that heralded a typical O’Rourke family dinner, his hold on the bundle in his arms tightened, and he stood rocking in place. Familiar voices washed over him, as though a siren’s call, urging him to take the last few steps and to finally be home.
Instead he closed his eyes, hearing his father’s strong cheerful voice, as he called out loving words to his mum. A quieter voice responded that sounded like Mum, but Declan suspected was his sister Maggie, as it was youthful and not as heavily redolent of Ireland. Followed by his brothers’ loud voices, as they joked and jabbed at each other. Laughter, always laughter and joy.
He took yet one more deep breath, kissing the bundle in his arms. How had he borne the years apart from them? Would they be eager to see him?
Gathering his courage, he forced himself to take the final steps into his parents’ house. He pushed open the door, walked soundlessly, stilling, as he watched his family duck their heads for Da to say grace.
“May we always be fortunate enough to have plentiful work and food and a home to shelter us all. May we never forget the blessings of family and the joy of Mary’s and Maggie’s return. And may we see Declan returned to us sometime this year.”
At the solemn rounds of “Amen,” Declan watched his family dig into the meal in their controlled chaos, as an O’Rourke supper commenced. Battling tears, he swallowed to clear a thickness in his throat before he rasped, “I’m home, Da.” His blue eyes shone with pain and relief, as he met his da’s startled gaze.
“Declan!” Seamus yelled out, dropping his spoon and leaping up. He knocked his chair to the floor in his haste to reach his son, who’d been absent nearly two years. “Is it truly you? Have you come back to us?” He clasped Declan’s shoulders in a bruising grip, as though afraid he were a ghost or that he would disappear again so soon after returning home.
Declan nodded, a tear leaking out of each eye as he met his father’s incredulous stare. “Aye,” he whispered. “I’m finally home.”
“But you look nothin’ like Declan,” whispered Ardan, his eldest brother, as he gaped at him.
Declan shrugged, knowing he appeared much altered since the last time anyone in his family had seen him. Gone were the shaggy hair and the unkempt beard. Instead he had a genteel appearance about him, with a close-cropped haircut and a trimmed beard. His suit was finely styled and nothing like the backwoodsmen clothes he had favored. “’Tis me, Ardan.”
When Seamus attempted to yank him into a bone-crushing hug, Declan took a step back and shook his head. “Nay, Da,” he whispered, his eyes flashing with regret at the confusion and the pain in his da’s gaze. At the perceived rejection of his father’s joy at his return. “I can’t have you crush him.”
“What?” Seamus gripped Declan’s shoulders and gave him a small shake. “You’re not makin’ any sense, Dec.”
Unwrapping the blanket covering his chest, he revealed the baby cradled there. “My son, Da.” His blue eyes gleamed with love and determination. “I have a son.”
Seamus stared from the baby gazing up at him with alert curiosity to Declan and back at the baby again. “Sweet Jesus, to be so blessed,” he breathed, his hand shaking, as it reached out to stroke the head of his grandson. “He’s beautiful.”
Declan smiled, devotion and love shining in his eyes as he beheld his son. “Aye, he is.” When his father held out his arms, Declan transferred his precious bundle into his father’s care. Glancing around the room, he saw everyone staring at him in absolute shock. “I’m home.” He flushed at the inadequate words.
“Declan,” his mum sobbed, as she pushed herself into his arms. “At last, you’ve returned to us.” She pulled him down to hug him close. “You’ve been sorely missed, my lad. Home hasn’t been the same without you.”
He eased her away and flushed. “I doubt that, Mum, but thanks.” He looked in the direction of his dumbfounded siblings, grunting as his youngest sister Maggie threw herself into his arms. “Maggie,” he whispered.
“Oh, you’re home at last. We’re all together again.” She swiped at her eyes, as she backed away and beamed at him, before smiling at her parents.
“Aye, just like we always should have been,” Ardan said, as he pulled Declan close. “We’ve missed you something fierce, Dec.” Soon all of Declan’s siblings had abandoned their supper to gather around him to welcome him home.
* * *
Lorena Mortimer sat transfixed, as she stared at the man with the deep voice, cradling the bundle in his arms. Rather than appearing disgruntled or put upon, he stood with pride at the proclamation he had a son. As those around her rose to circle the newcomer, she peered between the men, women, and boys who had become her family to the man she would have recognized anywhere as an O’Rourke.
Although Lorena and her two sisters’ arrival in Fort Benton a year ago had been inauspicious, the O’Rourke family had taken them in and had adopted them into their large loving family. Lorena looked at her glowing middle sister, Phoebe, who had married Eamon O’Rourke, and knew a large part of the sisters’ acceptance had to do with Phoebe’s marriage.
However, Lorena suspected the O’Rourkes would have been generous in aiding the Mortimer sisters escape the clutches of their nefarious uncle, Uriah Chaffee, even without Phoebe’s marriage to one of them.
Now finally Declan O’Rourke had returned, and the family was united again. Lorena tilted her head to one side, studying the man who was a few years older than her twenty-five years. Even though Eamon and Finn had often spoken of Declan as appearing like a wild backwoodsman, with long unkempt hair and a thick scraggly beard, now he appeared as polished and as urbane as
her uncle. Declan’s short ebony hair was cut irregularly, and she wondered if he took scissors to his own hair to prevent it from growing overly long. Where her uncle wore offensively bright suits, Declan’s was a severe black, with a fine coating of dust.
She watched as he stepped farther into the room, a woman shadowing him. “Oh my,” she breathed. Lorena cast a furtive glance in her sister Phoebe’s direction to see if she had noticed the woman’s appearance. Lorena saw Phoebe grip Eamon’s arm, subtly nodding in the direction of the woman hovering in the doorway.
At her appearance, the cacophony of voices died down. Mary O’Rourke, the family’s matriarch, approached the unknown woman with open arms and a friendly, if somewhat wary, smile. “Hello, dear,” she murmured. “I’m certain this is overwhelming for you. Please come in and join us for supper.”
Lorena watched with intense fascination as the O’Rourkes seamlessly accepted another person into their fold. For Lorena now understood: if this woman were important to Declan, they would accept her, rather than risk the loss of their beloved son. Lorena battled a bitterness that she had never known such love and understanding from her own mother and youngest sister, Winnifred. Pushing aside that rancor, she focused on the unfolding scene.
“Oh, I don’t wish to be no bother,” the young woman stammered out. “I … I just need to stay near the baby.” She was a tiny woman, who appeared to be not even five feet tall. Her lustrous black hair was pulled back in a braid, and her brown eyes shone with embarrassment, as though she were unaccustomed to being the center of attention.
Lorena watched as Mary and Seamus O’Rourke exchanged significant glances.
“Because you’re the mother?” Mary asked in a confused voice, although Lorena could detect no censure in her tone.
“Mum, she’s not Magnolia,” Finn called out. “I don’t know who she is, but she’s not …” He broke off when he saw the tormented expression on his older brother’s face. “She’s not her,” he finished lamely, sharing an anguished look with his brother Eamon. Together, they had always been known as the O’Rourke twins because they were so similar in age, appearance, and actions. However, Eamon had married the previous year, and Finn had been slightly out of sorts since.
“No,” Declan said, as he cleared his raspy throat. “This is Samantha. She’s helping me with Gavin.”
“Yes,” Samantha said, flushing. She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the wet nurse.”
Mary flushed but nodded. “We cannot thank you enough for traveling all this way and ensuring our grandson was well taken care of.”
Flushing, Samantha ducked her head. “Oh, it was nothing, ma’am. I never thought to have such an adventure! Riding in a steamboat, attacked by Indians, to see such a wild, untamed land.”
“Attacked?” asked Kevin O’Rourke, the second-eldest O’Rourke brother. “I presume none were harmed?”
Declan shook his head and smiled at Samantha, as she was eased onto the bench, where a full plate of food was set in front of her. “Eat,” he murmured in his deep voice. “Keep up your strength for you and for Gavin.”
Against her will, Lorena shivered at the quiet solicitude and concern in Declan’s voice for Samantha. Although she detected no romantic interest between them, she nevertheless fought an envy at their easy camaraderie. At his quiet care of her. Lorena wished someone were as particularly interested in her well-being. With a frown, she forced away those thoughts and again focused on the O’Rourke homecoming.
“Gavin,” Seamus breathed. “What a beautiful, proper name for the wee prince. You’ll have so much fun playing with Cillian.”
“Cillian?” Declan asked, his gaze never straying far from his son, now held by his mum.
“Niamh and Cormac’s boy. Born in July last year,” Mary said, as she kissed Gavin’s head.
“Cormac?” Declan looked around at his family in confusion. “What about Connor?”
His da slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, there’s been a mighty number of changes since you’ve been away. And one of the most momentous is that Connor died, and Niamh married Cormac.”
“And I married!” Eamon called out, unabashed joy in his voice.
“Married?” Declan asked, paling at the announcement. “I missed your wedding?” He gazed up and down the table, his gaze focusing on those he didn’t know.
Lorena stilled as his sharp gaze homed in on her, as one of the newcomers at the table. Like most of his brothers and his father, Declan had piercing blue eyes. However, unlike his brothers, his gaze was filled with a penetrating sadness, as though he were in perpetual mourning. Her breath caught at the depth of emotions revealed. “I’m Lorena,” she whispered through suddenly dry lips. “I’m a Mortimer sister.”
“A Mortimer sister? What does that mean?” He stared in confusion at his brothers.
“It means, she’s family,” Eamon said. “Especially because I married Phoebe, her younger sister.” Eamon tugged Phoebe over to introduce her to his brother.
Phoebe limped slightly, and Lorena noted how Phoebe flushed when Declan’s gaze sharpened, as he noticed her infirmity.
Declan stared at Phoebe a long moment, so long in fact that Lorena was about to jump up to defend her sister. However, at the last moment, he beamed at her sister and murmured, “I can see how happy you make my brother. I wish I’d been here to welcome you to the family when you married. Please accept my congratulations now.” He bent forward, kissing her cheek.
Focusing on his brother, Declan smiled, although the joy did not erase the underlying sorrow in his gaze. “You’re happy, Eamon. I could wish for nothing more for my baby brother.”
“Baby brother?” Eamon asked, as he launched himself forward for a bear hug. They slapped each other on the back twice. “Welcome home, Dec.”
Lorena watched the scene with unabashed envy. Although she had been a part of the O’Rourke family for a year, she had never lost the sense that she was an interloper. Growing up with her sisters, she had never felt the close sense of camaraderie shown on a daily basis by the O’Rourkes. Rather than love, understanding, and humor, her mama’s home had been filled with tension, disapproval, and disdain. Lorena had long ago learned that she would never truly belong.
As she stared at the reunion unfolding in front of her, she battled a deep yearning to have experienced such warmth and acceptance after her yearlong absence from her family some five years ago. Resentment bubbled up that she had never experienced such an unreservedly joyful homecoming. That hers had been shrouded in lies, silence, and shame. She let out a deep breath, wishing her life had been different. Gazing at Declan, she couldn’t help but sense he would understand how she felt.
* * *
The following morning, Seamus wandered to the levee, his keen gaze searching for any sight of the captains he had come to know during the previous seasons. However, none were present among the recently arrived steamboats. “Lad, where’s the captain to the Deer Lodge?” Seamus asked, as he gazed at the mounds of crates and other merchandise piled along the levee, waiting to be retrieved or to be delivered into the Territory.
The wiry man—a good five inches shorter than Seamus—turned to study him, as he puffed on his pipe. “Lad?” he asked, as he scratched at his thick brown hair. “I guess to an old-timer like you, I’m a lad.”
Seamus stared at him, crossing his arms over his strong chest. “I’m not that old, lad.”
The younger man chuckled. “And it’s been a while since I’ve been considered a mere boy. I’m the captain, mister. Who’s askin’?”
“You’re the captain?” Seamus asked, his brows rising at the incredulous notion.
“Aye, I’ve been a river rat my whole life, although the lower Mississippi sure is an easier mistress to soothe. Not nearly as ornery as the Missouri.” He puffed on his pipe, his brown eyes gleaming with curiosity and goodwill. “You have the look of Sonny about you. You his pa? The famous Mr. O’Rourke?”
Seamus flushed and ducke
d his head. “I’m not famous. And, if you’re talkin’ about my fine son Declan, aye, I’m his da. And proud of it.”
Holding out his hand, the captain said, “I’m A. J. Pickens. Call me A.J. Only my crew calls me captain.” He smiled with satisfaction after they shared a firm handshake. “And you are famous, O’Rourke. There’s talk in the drawin’ rooms of Saint Louis about you. And about other men who want to come up and try to steal away some of the monopoly you have. Money always makes a man jealous.”
Seamus laughed. “And rash. ’Tis too often unpleasant to see what a man will do to earn a dollar.”
A.J. nodded, his gaze solemn. “Aye. I’ve seen greed blind a man too often in my life.”
Seamus looked at the crates waiting to be moved. “Don’t be fooled, A.J. I don’t have a monopoly. I was the only foolish one to strike out and to give it a go in ’63 here in Fort Benton. Besides, I’m fortunate I have my family. I don’t have to depend on partners or itinerant help to run the store.” He smiled at A.J. “Call me Seamus.”
“Well, Seamus, what do you think of your grandson?” A.J.’s brown eyes gleamed with challenge and concern.
Seamus appeared thunderstruck, as he stared at the younger man. “He’s a beautiful lad. So bright and cheery.”
“So you don’t mind your boy showin’ up unmarried, a bastard in tow?” A.J. asked with a lifted brow.
“Don’t ever refer to anyone in my family that way again,” Seamus growled. “No one in my family is unwanted. All are cherished and beloved.” His cheeks flushed, and his eyes flashed with anger.
Smiling with satisfaction, A.J. bit on his pipe. “I told Sonny that he had no reason to worry. That the doubts and fears were his alone.”
Seamus froze, his ire seeping from him as A.J.’s words penetrated his anger. “What?” he rasped. “Declan was worried we’d … we’d …”
Pioneer Bliss: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Five Page 2