Pioneer Dream: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga

by Ramona Flightner

  “Brothers?” she gasped and then she rubbed at her temple as though it were sore. “I remember the one who looks like me claiming he was my brother. But how?”

  “You didn’t die,” Seamus said, as though that explained everything.

  She stared at him in confusion and then slumped forward. “I’m too tired to puzzle this all out,” she whispered. When she tried to stand, she would have fallen to the floor if Seamus had not caught her. “I’m sorry for being so weak. I promise I’ll be stronger soon.”

  “Nay, lass,” he whispered as he kissed her head and then picked her up in his strong arms. “Nay, you take as long as you need to recover. You are safe and time will prove I speak the truth.” He carried her through the house and up the stairs to one of the boys’ rooms. He knew they would understand finding somewhere else to sleep that night. After he eased her onto the bed, he kissed her forehead again, and murmured, “Soon I pray you understand how much you are loved.”

  He rose, leaving her alone to change and crawl under the covers.

  Maggie woke with a start after dozing on a comfortable bed with a mound of blankets over her. She rubbed at her face, wincing at the pain and the constant dull ache. Although this seemed to be a house filled with men, before she fell asleep, she had found towels to dry off with, a dry shift to slip into, and now a fluffy robe was draped on a chair. A lamp remained lit in the room, and she rose, tugging the robe on.

  She pulled on a pair of thick socks, sighing with pleasure as her feet warmed, and she inched open the door. A murmur of deep voices carried up the stairwell, and she realized she must not have been asleep for very long. The hallway had numerous doorways, but only one was closed tightly. After taking a deep breath, she poked her head in and battled a sob of relief to see her mother laying on her side. “Mother,” she whispered.

  Her mother didn’t respond and she moved into the room to sit on the chair next to her bed. It squeaked with her light weight and she wondered how it would ever hold the weight of the men downstairs. She shied away from considering them her family. Not until she’d spoken with her mother.

  Her hand shook as she reached forward to stroke her fingers over her mother’s arm. Her tremulous smile met her mother’s confused gaze when she woke. “Mother,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

  “Margaret?” Mary breathed. “How are you here?”

  “They came for me,” she said with a shrug. Her hair hung loose over her shoulder, and a skein of it covered her bruised cheek. She flushed as her mother’s gaze focused on her swollen eye.

  “Are you well, my daughter?” her mother asked.

  Nodding, Margaret smiled reassuringly. “Of course.”

  Her mother frowned at her response but did not press her for any more details. “I promise, we will find a good place to live soon. We will be a family again.”

  Maggie looked around the tidy, albeit Spartan room. Nothing adorned the walls, the only flash of color coming from the blue and white ewer on the small bureau crammed into the tiny space at the foot of the bed. She listened to the comforting sound of men’s voices downstairs and contemplated their predicament. “Are you certain we can’t remain here?” Her shoulders stooped at her mother’s glower. “They seem nice.”

  “Francois seemed nice too,” her mother snapped. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes after seeing her daughter flinch at her harsh words. “Margaret, I have no desire to remain here. To be coerced into believing more lies.”

  Maggie slouched down. “So he is my father?” she whispered. “He didn’t want me?”

  Mary pulled the blankets over her. “I no longer know what to believe.” She reached out, clasping her daughter’s hand. “Rest, Margaret. We have time in the morning to make plans.”

  Maggie nodded and rose. She eased out of her mother’s room and slipped back into hers, her mind racing with all that remained unsaid between herself and her mother. She fought tears and panic at the thought of leaving this house as she had the sense that for the first time in her life, it could be a home for her.

  Seamus poured cups of tea as he watched his sons dry their hair, swipe at bloody lips, and clean knuckles that had busted open. He waited until they had settled around the table and then he nodded to Kevin to speak.

  “He knows not to come back here,” Kevin said in a satisfied voice.

  “Will the sheriff be callin’ later tonight?” Seamus asked, only half joking. “I know two of you are formidable in a fight. Five of you are a terror.”

  Ardan laughed, slapping Kevin on his back. “Nay, Da, the sheriff has no reason to seek us out. Kev, Declan an’ I took care of business an’ taught the younger lads how it’s done.” He winked at Finn and Eamon as they sputtered with indignation.

  “We got a few kicks in,” Eamon muttered. Finn nodded grumpily.

  Oran stared wistfully at his oldest brothers. “One day, we’ll be able to fight like they do.”

  Seamus laughed and ran a hand over Oran’s head, ruffling his hair. “Aye, you will, but not today. I imagine you watched from a window?” As his three youngest shrugged, he sighed. He paused as he waited for his eldest sons to speak.

  “We roughed him up, Da. Let him know that Mum and Maggie aren’t unprotected any more. That he should respect a woman, not hurt her,” Declan said with a fierce glower.

  “Hittin’ a woman?” Kevin said with a snarl. “How low can you go?”

  Pride filled Seamus’s gaze as he stared at his sons. “You are fine lads,” he rasped. After a moment, he said, “Now, I know we believe he’ll leave us alone, but I have no faith in the man. He seemed mighty possessive of Maggie, and I fear he’ll come to his senses and want your mum back too.” He paused. “I don’t know what he feels about his nephews, your brothers.” He sighed as he rubbed at his head.

  “Mum’s really back?” Kevin asked, wonder and disbelief in his voice.

  “Aye,” Seamus said, his gaze bright and hopeful. “There are questions to be answered, but she’s my wife, an’ I will not allow her to live apart from me.” He closed his eyes as he feared he sounded like a tyrant. “I pray she’ll want to stay.”

  “I can’t believe Maggie’s alive,” Ardan said. “I always thought of her as a babe, Da, not nearly full grown like the lass I carried home tonight.”

  Seamus nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Ah, me too, son. Last I saw her, she was a few hours old. An’ I thought she’d be spirited and would keep her brothers on her toes. Not meek and biddable.”

  Kevin took a sip of tea and then tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “When she feels safe, she’ll be the Maggie you envisioned, Da.” He looked at his father, his gaze intense and filled with determination. “We’ll keep her safe.”

  His brothers all nodded in agreement.

  Kevin took another deep breath. “And we’ll keep the two French lads safe too.”

  Bryan grinned at his father. “I have a brother almost my age!” He giggled with glee.

  Seamus looked at Bryan and his chest tightened momentarily. “I don’t want you goin’ anywhere alone, do you understand, Bryan?” He waited as his youngest son frowned. “Not until we understand what that madman will do.” He looked at all of his boys. “For now, travel in packs of two or three. Only a fool would take on more than one O’Rourke at a time.”

  Mary woke in a warm, comfortable bed. Her gaze rove over the ceiling and the furniture in the small room, and she sat up with a start as she did not recognize anything.

  “Shh, you’re safe,” a deep voice said to her right and her head jerked in that direction.

  She blushed, tugging the sheet up to her chin at the sight of Seamus seated on a rickety chair in the corner of the room.

  “There’s no need to be shy, love. We are married.” He seemed to wait for her protest and relaxed when she remained quiet.

  “Why am I here?” she asked. She held a hand to her aching head and laid down again, curling on her side so she could face him.

  “You wer
e in the rain beside our warehouse yesterday. It seemed you had nowhere to go.” He sat back, his expression blank. “If you prefer to return to the shack you called home, I will not stop you.”

  Her eyes filled with fear and she involuntarily shook her head.

  Unable to hide his concern at her distress, Seamus canted forward. His hand reached out as though he wanted to stroke a soothing hand over her. Instead, he left it hanging between them. “What did he do to you, my love? Why are you with such a man?”

  She glared at him. “Who are you to ask me such questions?”

  He flushed. “Your husband. The father of your children.” He frowned as she flinched at his answer. “Or was it all a lie, Mary?” The hand between them was now held up palm toward her as though he were warding off any more heartache.

  Tears leaked out as she gazed at him. “You know it wasn’t,” she whispered around her sobs. “You abandoned me! And our babe.”

  He collapsed to his knees at her bedside, as though in supplication and prayer. “Never,” he rasped. “Oh, sweet Jesus, never.” He grabbed her hands, kissing each palm once and then holding on tightly. “I came to see you after our babe was born. You slept, so peacefully. Father Thomas warned me not to wake you. That you’d earned your rest.” His eyes glowed with the memory of it. “You were so beautiful, glowing after the birth of our babe.” His gaze roved over her as though seeing her as she had been in October of 1847. “You were flushed, but you were after each of our babes, and I hoped, I prayed, it meant you weren’t to become sick too.”

  He paused and lowered his gaze. “Our babe rested in a box by your bedside. Such a beautiful, wee lass.” He raised his eyes and met her wondrous gaze. “Do you remember discussin’ names and decidin’ on Margaret after your mother?” He smiled. “I called her Maggie, for she looked like a Maggie, and I knew she’d be full of mischief and always chasin’ after her brothers to keep up.”

  The joy in his eyes dimmed. “I left, after kissin’ you both on your heads, promisin’ to return.” He let out a stuttering breath. “And I did. But Father Thomas was sick with the typhus. And the bed you’d rested in was occupied by another. And the nun told me in broken English that you’d perished and they’d already buried you both.” Tears coursed down his cheeks. “I couldn’t even say goodbye to you,” he whispered. “Couldn’t pray over you and beg your forgiveness.”

  She shook her head, heedless of her own tears pouring down her cheeks. “Forgiveness? Why?”

  “I should have been with you, at the end. I should have found a way to protect you,” he dropped his head forward to rest by her hip as he sobbed.

  Soft fingers sifted through his thick ebony hair streaked with white and gray. “Oh, Seamus. You did come. You didn’t abandon us.” She fought a sob of wonder at the realization all she’d thought true had been a lie. “For how else would you know about Maggie in her wee box?” She continued to run her hands through his hair even after he raised his head to meet her gaze. “Sister Marguerite moved us to a storage shed. Said she didn’t want us to become ill with the ship’s fever. With the typhus. And I waited for days for you. When I could wait no longer, I left to search for you, but you’d disappeared.” Tears coursed down her cheek. “I was alone, in a foreign city, with a baby as winter arrived.”

  “No,” Seamus groaned, “no, a ghrá .” He whispered my love in Gaelic. When the words brought her pleasure, rather than pain, a tension eased from him. “I can’t bear to think of you alone and unprotected in that city. That I left you there.”

  “You did it unwittingly.” Although he had just said as much, she waited for him to affirm her statement again.

  “Aye. I would have fought heaven an’ earth for you and our babe, Mary.” He sniffed and then his penetrating gaze met hers. “Have you suffered these past years?”

  Her gaze shuttered and she lowered her head. “I prefer not to speak of my time away from you.”

  He made a low noise of disagreement. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works, love. If you don’t tell me what you lived through, I won’t know what hurt you. And I’ll harm you without meaning to.” He shook his head. “And that is a thought past bearing.”

  She stared at him, pleading in her gaze. “Not now, Shay. Not now.”

  He waited a long moment, pleasure lighting his eyes at her use of his nickname. “What did he do to you yesterday?” When she would have protested, he held a finger to her lips, smiling as she kissed his finger rather than arched away from his touch. “I need to know so I can get a doctor in if necessary.”

  She looked away. “He hit me. But I am fine.”

  “A ghrá ,” he whispered. “Look at me.” He waited until she met his gaze. “He had no right to hit you. To yell at you. To scare you.” He saw the echo of past abuse in her gaze and his jaw tightened. “Show me,” he whispered.

  “Shay,” she argued. “I … I’m not the woman you married.”

  His eyes lit with joy and he smiled as he beheld her. “Aye, you are. Beautiful and sweet and full of goodness. You’re my Mary, and nothing essential has changed. Do you not see that, lass?”

  “Seamus,” she gasped as tears coursed down her cheeks again at his sweet words. “Oh, how you slay me.”

  He moved up so as to tug her into his arms. “Let me hold you,” he pleaded. “Let me comfort you as I have dreamed about for too many years.” He ran his strong fingers through her silky hair. “Until I saw you at our store, I thought you would remain a dream, soothing and tormenting me, as I yearned for you.”

  She tugged him to her, breathing in his scent, musky with a hint of day old cologne. But underneath it all, was the scent of the Seamus she remembered and any tension leaked away. “I never dared to dream of this. Never.”

  He climbed over her until he lay beside her and settled her until she rested on his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. “You fit just like I remember.”

  “I’m not the girl of your youth,” she whispered, alluding to the weight she had gained after her pregnancies.

  He ran a finger over her cheeks. “Thank God. You were too thin, hungry every day those last few years. I thought I’d killed you. Because I couldn’t provide well enough for you.” His gaze shone with the depth of his fear.

  “Oh, dear God, no, Seamus,” she whispered, her hand rising to rub through his trimmed beard. She leaned forward, kissing his chin. “No.”

  “Seeing you now, healthy and whole, you don’t know what that means to me, Mary,” he whispered. “If you gained ten stone, I’d be a happy man.” At her incredulous snort of laughter, he chuckled.

  “You’d need another house were I to gain that much.” She wrapped her arms around him, relaxing against him although a subtle tension continued to thrum through her.

  “Shh, lass, with time all will be as it was,” he murmured. “I promise you.” He rubbed his fingers over the back of her scalp, stilling when she yelped in pain. “Mary?” he asked. He eased out from underneath her and ran his fingers over her with slightly more pressure, gauging where she grimaced or fought a moan. “Take your shift off.”

  She turned to glare at him. “You cannot make me,” she snapped. “I have bruises, Seamus. And they will heal.”

  “Show me,” he demanded. His eyes pleaded with her. “I can’t help you if you won’t show me what he did to you. I can’t understand unless you share this with me.”

  She pushed at him until he knelt again on the side of the bed. She shimmied around until she had lifted her shift up to reveal her belly and back. Her modesty was preserved by her underclothes and by hugging the shift to her breasts. Reddened areas were turning purple and she flinched when he touched a particularly sore spot on her back over one of her ribs.

  “Does it hurt to breathe, love?” he whispered. When she shook her head, he lowered his head to kiss the injured area. He stilled his motion when she took a stuttering breath. He met her shocked gaze. When he saw amazement and disbelief in her gaze, he continued to softly kiss her bruise
s. “You do not have to hide what he did to you from me. I will never blame you. His actions do not shame you, love. They shame him.”

  She reached for him, no longer caring about her shift or keeping herself covered. Her sole focus was on being in his arms again. “Promise me,” she choked out. “Promise me ’tis no dream. That I won’t awaken in a ditch to find myself bruised and alone again, dreaming of you.”

  He shuddered as he tugged her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her. “Never, a grá mo chroí. For you are and always were the love of my heart.” He held her, rocking the two of them in place as he thanked God and every benevolent being for this miracle.

  Maggie woke slowly to the sensation she was safe. The smell of bacon frying in a pan and the sound of laughter were foreign and she sat bolt upright in bed. She looked around her, stilling when she saw a man she recognized sitting on the made up bed across from her. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” she demanded. She searched for her robe and tugged it over her head. Gasping with pain at the sudden movement, she soon had it in place.

  “Are you well, Maggie?” the man asked. He leaned forward but did not touch her, his hazel eyes glowing with worry.

  “I’m fine. I’m not going to be here long enough to be worth your concern.” She pulled the robe more tightly around her, her gaze frantically searching for the dress she had worn the night before, but all her clothes were missing.

  “An’ where would you be going?” Kevin asked, the soft lilt of Ireland in his voice reminding her of her mother’s voice. “We are your family. We will care for you.”

  “I can’t leave my mother,” she protested. “She doesn’t want to remain here.” She frowned as Kevin chuckled. “I spoke with her last night. She’s determined to leave.”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But she hadn’t spoken to Da yet. When she does, I believe everything will change. Besides, few women can give up the opportunity to reunite with her children.”