Pioneer Bliss: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Five

by Flightner, Ramona

  Maggie brightened, her attention turned to Lorena’s goal of drumming up more business. “You should have a flyer for the store, the hotel, the café, and the Bordello.”

  Gasping, Lorena shook her head. “I could never, … never go to the Bordello. Presume to … to …”

  Maggie waved away her concern. “Oh, you know the Madam from when Phoebe was hurt. She’s a nice woman and a friend to all of us O’Rourkes.” Shaking her head, she murmured, “Don’t bother protesting you’re not an O’Rourke. You’ve been taken in by Da and Mum, so you are as good as an O’Rourke to townsfolk.”

  “As good as doesn’t mean I’m actually an O’Rourke.” She paused, stilling her movement around the room to dust around books, as she saw Maggie watching her with concern. “What is it?”

  “Is that it?” When Lorena stared at her with complete befuddlement, Maggie whispered, “Is that why you want Declan? To be one of us?”

  Paling, Lorena fought a shiver. “Declan is a friend. Only a friend, Maggie. He … I’ll never marry him.”

  Maggie firmed her chin, staring at Lorena with disappointment. “And why wouldn’t you marry Declan? Do you think you’re too good for him?” Maggie shook her head. “What is wrong with you Mortimer sisters?” She stood with her blue eyes blazing and her hands on her hips, as she faced Lorena.

  “I won’t answer for my sisters. For my part, I suffered in the past, and I know I’ll never … It’s me, Maggie, not Declan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Any woman would be fortunate to deserve such a man.”

  Her ire evaporating as rapidly as it had appeared, Maggie studied Lorena, as though she were attempting to determine how to cure her of an illness. “But you don’t believe you deserve him. That’s what you’re saying.” Maggie paused a long moment, as the silence between them was prolonged. “Someday, Lorena, you will have to face what haunts you. You deserve more than reading about a full and satisfying life in a book.”

  Lorena watched her leave, tears dripping down her cheeks, as she feared such courage would always elude her.

  * * *

  Phoebe rested in bed after her sister’s visit. She knew she should rise, don a fresh dress, and visit Eamon. However, a lassitude filled her, and all she wanted to do was rest, as she contemplated her future. Rather than a bleak future filled with duty and strife and devoid of joy, she saw a kaleidoscope of happy moments. Eamon holding her close. Eamon smiling at her with love and pride. Eamon kissing the head of their baby, uncaring if their babe were a boy or a girl. Always Eamon.

  A tear trickled out, as she held a hand low over her belly. She wanted a few more moments to hold the miracle of her surprise to herself before she sought him out. A few more moments to marvel that her body was capable of sheltering life. Although she knew Maggie would roll her eyes at her, as this was basic biology, this was a miracle to Phoebe.

  The door latch sounded, and she looked over her shoulder to see Eamon standing, his hands fisted at his side.

  “Love?” she asked.

  “You’re dying,” he rasped. “You’re dyin’, an’ you don’t know how to tell me.” His blue eyes shone with terror as he stared at her.

  She rolled over so quickly in bed that she tangled herself in her dress and landed with a thump on the floor. “Ouch! No!” She sighed with relief when he pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her. “Hold me, Eamon. Just hold me.”

  “I’ll hold you forever. I swear I won’t let anyone take you from me,” he vowed. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Oh, my love, forgive me.”

  He pushed her away, his hands bracketing her face, as he stared fiercely into her eyes. “Never. I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.” Tears threatened as he whispered, “Don’t make me suffer as Da suffered.”

  Raising her hands, she covered his mouth and shook her head. “Shh, you precious man. I’m not dying. I’m going to have our baby.”

  Eamon stilled, as though she spoke in a foreign tongue. Shaking his head, he stared at her for long moments, as though attempting to discern if she spoke the truth. When she nodded and smiled with a deep glow, he groaned and tugged her to him. “Oh, my precious girl. My beautiful wife.” He held her so tightly that she squeaked. “Never scare me like that again. Jaysus!” He released her only enough to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. “A baby. We’re to have a baby.”

  “Aye,” she murmured, mimicking him. “A little one to play with his or her cousins. To swaddle with our love.”

  “Always, my darlin’. Always.”

  Chapter 7

  The following afternoon, Declan paused outside the bookstore, lifting his face up to the soft rays of the sun. He knew that, too soon, it would be hot, and he’d have no wish to linger in the sunlight. His mind wandered, and he thought about his son, contented and always cheerful, currently under the care of Samantha, Maggie and his mum.

  Thankfully Samantha was adapting to life among the O’Rourkes and enjoyed working with his mum and sister, although she preferred to avoid much contact with his brothers. Samantha seemed willing to stay here, working as a nanny, and sleeping in the makeshift nursery in the big house, even after Gavin was weaned. Declan smiled as he thought of his son, Gavin, who was blooming under all the attention from everyone in the family.

  With a contented sigh, Declan acknowledged he’d made the right decision returning home.

  As he was about to enter the small establishment, he heard a raised female voice. Recognizing it as the youngest Mortimer sister’s snippy tone, he decided not to interrupt their conversation, although he couldn’t help but overhear the one-sided conversation.

  “You’re pathetic, Lo. Starting up a business destined to fail. And then enticing an O’Rourke who has no interest in you to sit on a stool all day long as though you needed protection?” Winnifred said in a taunting voice. “It’s worse than embarrassing. If there’s a Mortimer sister who needs protection, it isn’t you.”

  Declan strained to hear Lorena’s reply, but all he heard were a few muffled syllables.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Winnifred pronounced in a loud carrying voice. “As though you’re forced to have an attractive man sit and wait on you because his father demanded it. You’re pathetic, and you know it. First you let Mama boss you around. And now you let Mr. O’Rourke.”

  Another murmur came and then a slap and a shriek. Deciding he’d heard enough, Declan entered the library, clearing his throat. Any attempt at a smooth conciliatory statement was lost the moment he saw the reddened mark on Lorena’s cheek. “You’d dare strike your sister?” he demanded, as he glared at Winnifred, blocking the exit.

  “She deserved it. She had no right to speak to me in such a manner.”

  “If anyone deserved it, it was you,” Declan said in a low menacing voice. “For some reason, you believe that those around you will always accept your tantrums and your abuse. One day you will go too far, and you will be alone. And then you will understand what true misery is.”

  “I will never be alone, you buffoon. I am not the sort of woman who will ever be lonely.” Winnifred held her head high, showcasing her elegant neck and beautiful face.

  “You might have an allure now, but that will fade. And, as it does, few will have patience with your spitefulness.” He stepped aside to approach Lorena, who now held a hand to her cheek. “Lorena, let me see it.” He waited until she lowered her hand before softly touching her cheek. When she hissed, he glared at her sister. “Be useful for once and find some ice.”

  Winnifred stomped her foot in agitation. “I have better things to do than be your errand girl.” She stormed away.

  Declan ran his thumb over the reddened area. “Will she find ice?” At the embarrassed look in Lorena’s eye, he sighed. “Come. Let’s close up for a little while and return home. Mum and Maggie will help.”

  “Winnie never likes to be ignored. And you focusing on me is the worst insult.”

  Declan smiled. “She doesn’t deserve my attention.” His sm
ile broadened as Lorena flushed at the implication she did deserve it. “Come. Let’s get you home and cared for.”

  “It’s just a slap,” she protested. “I’ve had worse.”

  He froze, his easy cajoling disappearing at her careless statement. “Worse?” He shook his head. “I pray never again.” Dropping his hand from her cheek, he grabbed her hand. “Come.” For the entire short walk to his parents’ home, he held her hand. Although it garnered a few looks, he refused to allow her to feel any more alone than she already did.

  After ushering her inside, he called for his sister. “Maggie,” he said, when she appeared from her upstairs bedroom. “Can you ensure Lorena is well?”

  Maggie looked at Lorena and frowned. “Did someone hit you?”

  When Lorena remained resolutely silent, Declan murmured, “Winnifred.” At Maggie’s hiss of disgust, he nodded. “Aye. I’m to find ice. I’ll be back.” He squeezed Lorena’s shoulder and then Maggie’s before rushing away.

  * * *

  Lorena sat in the O’Rourke kitchen, battling a profound mortification. “There’s no need to fuss,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. A cold cloth should suffice.”

  “If Declan wants ice, then he’ll find ice,” Maggie said.

  When Mary walked in, Lorena closed her eyes in defeat, and Maggie summarized what little she knew. At Mary’s sounds of distress, Lorena wished she could dig a hole and hide in it. Anything to save her from their pitying stares. “It’s nothing. Like I said to Declan …” This time she bit her tongue.

  “Like you said to Declan, you’ve suffered worse?” Mary asked, a too-knowing look in her gaze. “I’ve always wondered about all you’ve suffered, lass. And now that you’re no longer following Winnifred’s lead and her schemes, it makes sense she’s quite angry with you. And lashing out. For she hopes you’ll get back in line and do as she wants.”

  “I’m not her doll,” Lorena hissed and closed her eyes. “For too long, it was easier to placate her—and Mama—than to protest.”

  “Aye, ’tis the way with a bully,” Mary said. “But it eats away at your soul, little by little, does it not?” She shrugged, as she held a cold cloth to Lorena’s cheek and then sat, wrapping an arm around the younger woman’s waist and urging her to rest her uninjured cheek on Mary’s shoulder. “I found that to be the truth with my second husband. A brute of a man. Nothin’ like my Seamus.”

  “Few are like Mr. O’Rourke,” Lorena whispered. “Or you.”

  “Ah, that might be true, but it doesn’t mean you won’t find a man who treasures you,” Mary said, gently rocking Lorena, as though she were a wee babe in need of coddling. “We all need a little tenderness, Lorena. It’s not a sign of weakness but of strength.”

  “I wasn’t raised to believe that, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

  “How many times must I ask you to call me Mary? You’re one of the family now, Lorena,” Mary said, a soft note of admonishment in her voice. “You’ll be family no matter what happens.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lorena whispered, her eyes closing, as she felt secure and protected for the first time in so long.

  “I know. Perhaps one day you will.”

  * * *

  Declan raced away from town toward the foothills that bracketed the backside of town. Knocking on the door, he paused, waiting to see if the icehouse proprietor, Mr. Crain, was here. After a moment, the door opened, and the man stood with a curious frown. “Aye?” He sighed at the sight of Declan. “An O’Rourke.”

  “Yes, I am, an’ I’m in need of ice.” He frowned when Mr. Crain shut the door.

  “I don’t have none for you, lad.”

  Declan hit the closed door with his fist, but it didn’t budge. After a moment, he raced away in the direction of the levee. “A.J.!” he called out, when he approached the captain’s steamboat, finding the captain on land. “Have any ships arrived in the past few days?”

  Tipping his hat back and swiping at his forehead, A.J. huffed out a breath, sitting on a crate he’d helped to carry off the steamboat. “Yes, sonny, the G.A. Thompson arrived yesterday.” He put a hand on his hip, as he stared at the younger man he considered a cousin. “What’s he brought to town that I didn’t?”

  “Ice,” Declan said, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “For some reason, Crain won’t sell me any.”

  “Ah, well, I’m friends with the captain of the Thompson. Give me a minute.” A.J. sauntered away, calling out a greeting and invoking laughter at his approach to the other steamboat’s crew.

  Declan shook his head as it seemed that, wherever the man went, he was greeted with smiles and good humor. He watched as A.J. motioned with his hands and then pointed in Declan’s direction. After a few more minutes, A.J. walked back in his direction. “Well?” Declan asked.

  “They have some ice in their stores. Found a last bit of it a few days ago.” He scratched at his head. “They’ll bring it to you once they carve off a piece.” He settled on the crate again, clamping his jaw down as though he were smoking his pipe. “Why’d that man Crain deny you ice? You know every boat comes in with ice this time of year, an’ we’re eager to sell it.”

  Declan shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed upset at the sight of me. Said my name as though it were a curse.”

  A.J. tapped at his knee. “Well, not everyone in town’s gonna like you and your family, sonny. There are always those who’ll be jealous.” He nodded in the direction of the boardwalk and a pompous-looking man with a protruding belly in a cranberry-colored waistcoat. “That man’s a baffoon if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “A baboon or a buffoon?” Declan asked. “And he’s Lorena’s uncle.”

  “Poor girl, sufferin’ as she does with her youngest sister, and has a man like that as her uncle.” A.J. continued to glare at the portly man. “An’ he’s both.”

  With a frown in Chaffee’s direction, Declan focused on A.J. “How do you know Winnifred is difficult?”

  Shaking his head as though he were speaking to a simpleton, A.J. kicked at the crate across from him. “Sit. Might as well be comfortable while you wait.” He met Declan’s impatient gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see that youngest sister’s nothin’ but trouble. An’ she’s got her eyes on her eldest sister. Wants to lead her into temptation. An’ I don’t mean the good kind.” A.J. shook his head. “Workin’ down here at the levee, I hear all kinds of blatherin’. Most of it I ignore. But when the men started talkin’ about there bein’ new competition for the Bordello, an’ the new arrival of a red-haired woman to bring them comfort, well, I took notice.”

  “Where?” Declan asked, canting forward. “The Daybreak?” At A.J.’s nod, Declan shook his head. “Chaffee thinks he’ll have his niece be a Temptress?” He glowered in the direction Chaffee had been standing.

  “From what I hear, he ain’t got much choice. He’s runnin’ out of money. Not much use for a lawyer with expensive tastes in this town. An’ men don’t have legal problems here like they do in towns like Virginia City or Helena.”

  “Then why is he here?” Declan whispered. “It makes no sense.”

  A.J. huffed out a breath, although, for once, no humor lit his expression. “Well, we know it ain’t for familial love. He wouldn’t know what that was if a rattler bit him on his ass.” He smiled as Declan snorted. “I’ve heard of a man called Bergeron.” When Declan froze, A.J. nodded. “He’s bidin’ his time for that man to show up.”

  “Jacques,” Declan whispered. “He’s Lucien’s and Henri’s uncle. The brother to the man my mother married, after she was left behind in Montreal.” He paused as A.J. continued to study him. “The man who will do anything to have Maggie.”

  A.J. chortled out a laugh. “Ah, lad, that’s where you again prove you know nothin’ about women. For, if you did, you’d know that stagecoach driver will do anythin’ for that sweet girl.” He paused. “But I’d be on your guard. More is afoot than we know.”

  Declan nodded, biting back what more he would have said, as he rose a
nd accepted a hunk of ice from the kind stranger, who promptly left. “Thank you, A.J. I must return and get this to Lorena.”

  With a twinkle in his brown eyes, A.J. smiled. “Of course you do, sonny. You can’t keep your ladylove waitin’. An’ it’s important you show her how much you care.”

  “No! It’s not like that.” When he remained here, water dripping onto his boot from the melting ice, A.J. staring at him as though he were a fool, Declan heaved out a breath. “I have to go. But it isn’t what you think.” He raced away, refusing to give any credence to A.J.’s impertinent comments.

  * * *

  Lorena sat at the kitchen table, a cold cloth to her cheek, as she tickled Gavin’s feet while he sat on Maggie’s lap. Samantha had puttered around the kitchen for a little while, scurrying away when the youngest group of O’Rourke sons entered. Lorena realized Samantha always disappeared when O’Rourke men other than Declan or Seamus were present. As for Gavin, the majority of his time was spent with family.

  Gavin reached forward to grab the cloth, scraping her reddened cheek. With an unbidden hiss, Lorena grimaced. “No, love,” she whispered, as she arched away from his touch. When his lip quivered, she relented and gave him the damp cloth. At his squeal of delight, she smiled, wincing again at the pain in her face.

  “Gavin will overcome his momentary disappointment,” Declan said in a soft voice.

  Her head jerked up, as she hadn’t heard him enter. “Declan,” she gasped, her gaze taking in his quiet presence and the soft tenderness in his gaze, as he watched her interacting with his son. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie,” he murmured, moving to the countertop and pulling out a sharp knife. He whittled away a piece of ice, wrapping it in a new square of cloth, before moving to the table. He held it out, setting it with the utmost care against her reddened cheek.

  “Heaven,” she breathed, as the coldness seeped into her skin and soothed the deep ache. When his long fingers stroked her other cheek, she looked into his eyes, swallowing once before breathing, “Thank you.”