by Kit Morgan
Finn swallowed hard. He felt like a cad – no, he was a cad. “I'm sorry Lorcan got ye into this mess, Miss Brock, I really am. If it makes ye feel any better, when I see him again, I'll punch him in the face.”
She looked at him, and noticed that he hadn’t let go of her. She was still pressed firmly against his chest. “What if he strikes you back?”
“I can guarantee he will,” Finn told her. “And then, of course, he might beat me half to death.”
“What kind of a friend does that?”
Finn laughed. “Lorcan’s a fighter, he can't help himself.”
“One would think he’d use some restraint when dealing with his best friend.”
Finn chuckled. “Ah, but Lorcan's fists react quicker than his brain sometimes. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a bonny friend, always has been.”
Eva tried to push away from him. “Please, I think I’d like to be alone now.”
He didn't let go, but instead picked her up. Her arms instinctively went around his neck. “I'll take ye to your room, then.” He looked into her eyes and sighed. “I really am sorry, Miss Brock. Lorcan had no right. I’ll cover the cost of the stage, and see that ye get home safe.”
Eva shook her head and, much to her embarrassment, a few tears escaped. “But that's just it, Mr. Mullaney. I don't dare go home.”
* * *
Now she'd done it! If she’d been smart, she’d have kept her mouth shut! Now he was sure to ask why she couldn't go home. Would her explanation of a controlling, overbearing mother be enough to convince him to let her stay; or would he laugh at her predicament and put her on the next stage south? In less than two days, she could be back in Independence to face her mother's wrath.
Worse still, in less than two days, she could be back to face her mother's choice of a husband! She knew the woman well enough to know that if she thought Eva wanted to get married (heaven forbid her daughter would leave Independence because of her), then she'd find Eva a suitable husband. Probably Mr. Stonewall, who had to be at least half a century (give or take a year) older than her, or Mr. Pencraft, thirty years her senior. She shuddered at the thought.
They reached the top of the stairs and Finn set her cautiously on her feet. They were on a small landing in front of a single door. “Miss Brock,” he began, his voice soft. “You need food and rest. I'll not listen to another word about this tonight, is that understood?”
She shuddered again. He didn't even want to talk about it anymore. But then, she didn't want to, either, and had said as much downstairs. “As you wish, Mr. Mullaney.”
He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. “I … ah …”
“What?” They were so close, and for the first time she noticed how he smelled of fresh earth.
He shook his head. “Never mind. It's nothing.”
She bit her lip and turned toward the door.
He reached over, opened it and, in one swift move, had her cradled in his arms again. Then he carried her into his family’s living quarters.
“Finn!” a plump woman cried as she came into the parlor. “What's this I hear about you getting yerself a bride?” She looked Eva up and down, and beamed. “Saints be praised, it’s true! And you’re pretty!”
Finn groaned. “Maither, it's not what ye think,” he said as he set Eva on her feet.
Finn's father came out of the kitchen, took one look at them, and chuckled. Eva raised a curious eyebrow, then looked at Finn to take in his reaction.
“This is Lorcan’s doing,” he explained in exasperation. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“Lorcan?” his mother repeated, then looked at Eva. “He's a nice lad.”
Eva studied the plump woman and smiled. Her red hair was streaked with gray and piled loosely atop her head, and her blue eyes twinkled when she talked. Her husband, on the other hand, was a thin little man, his dark eyes full of wisdom but also mischief. He was watching the whole scene with a wide smile. At least she had two people on her side.
“He’s an idiot!” Finn blurted, and put an arm around Eva. He pulled her to his side and stared down his mother.
Eva noticed how his father shook with silent mirth. The hope that she’d be able to stay went up a notch.
“I still can't believe he would do such a thing!” Finn put his other arm around her, and unexpectedly scooped her up again. “I don't know what he was thinking, sending me a mail-order bride!” To everyone's amusement, he paced with Eva in his arms as he continued his tirade. “My best friend for all these years, then he goes and does something like this! He's the one addled in the brain, not me! Why, the very idea of doing such a thing – it's an insult to my intelligence!”
Finn's father could stand it no longer. He laughed, and was soon joined by his mother. Their guffawing brought Finn to a stop. “You think it's funny? Pah! Well, maybe it won't be so funny when Miss Brock has to leave tomorrow.”
They both abruptly stopped laughing. “Finn Mullaney!” his mother snapped. “She's not going anywhere! Just look at her, the poor wee thing! Your da told me she'd been hurt.”
“She twisted her ankle after the stage went off the road.” Finn held her a little tighter. “Because of Lorcan, I'm now responsible for her!”
Eva had to hide a smile. Could it be he didn't want to put her down?
“Ye don't have to make it sound like it's a bad thing,” his mother said.
“Aye,” added his father. “Ye act as if it’s a horrible catastrophe.”
“Well, it is, in a manner of speaking,” said Finn as he adjusted Eva in his arms. “And now what am I to do? Saddled with a woman, having to see to her needs, and…” he stopped and gazed at her. His look softened. “And …”
“And I think it's time for supper,” said his father. “Bring her into the kitchen, will ye, lad?”
Their gazes locked, Eva listened as his parents went into the other room. Finn stood and gazed at her a moment longer before he got his feet moving and followed. Once there, he gently set her in a chair. She sat and looked away, breaking the spell.
“When did ye eat last, dearie?” Mrs. Mullaney asked.
“I had a little something at the doctor’s,” she answered in a soft voice.
“Birdie gave you something, eh? Pah! That woman doesn’t know how to feed a body proper!” Mrs. Mullaney said, and set a plate in front of Eva. She reached for a spoon sticking out of a nearby bowl of mashed potatoes, and plopped some onto it. “Slice the lass some roast beef, son, and butter some bread.”
Finn took the empty chair next to her and did as his mother asked. “After ye eat some good food, ye'll feel better.” He picked up a knife and attacked the roast with it.
“That and a good night’s rest,” added his father. “Tomorrow, we’ll see about getting ye settled.”
Finn stopped his furious slicing. “Settled?”
“Aye, she’ll be needing a place to stay while she's in town.”
Finn stared at his father. “Stay?”
“Of course. Ye heard the lass; she can't go back to where she came from.”
Finn stared at the roast beef. “Oh, yes,” he mumbled. “She did say that, didn't she?”
“No need to talk about it tonight,” said his father. “The lass has been through enough today – let's not add to her grief.”
Finn’s jaw clenched as he put some meat on her plate. He added a few slices to his own before pushing the platter toward his mother. Then he looked at his parents and took a deep breath.
“Shall we pray?” his father suggested happily as he clasped his hands in front of him. He watched as Finn reluctantly bowed his head, then prayed, “Dear Lord, thank Ye for this food, and the blessing Ye've brought to us this day. Amen.”
“Finn's head snapped up. “Blessing?” he squeaked.
“Finn Mullaney,” his mother said in a stern tone, “eat yer supper!”
Eva sat in her chair and watched mother and son glare at each other, then picked up her fork and began
to eat. If this had been a game and she had to keep score, she’d say his parents were two points ahead.
Finn turned away first, stabbed his roast beef and shoved some into his mouth. Make that three points.
“Where are ye from, dearie?” his mother asked as she watched him chew his food.
Eva swallowed and looked at her. “Not far really. Independence.”
“So close?” his mother said in surprise. “Now, isn't that grand?”
Finn narrowed his eyes at her. “I know what yer thinking, but she's not staying.”
“Nonsense!” his mother countered. “She'll stay, and that's final! Ye can't expect that wee thing to head home with such an injury.”
Finn's jaw tightened and he set down his fork. “Maither, she's not ...”
Now his mother set down her fork. Eva sensed the mounting tension between them. “You might not want her to stay, young man, but I do. She’ll stay for as long as I deem fit, and then and only then will I decide if she goes back to Independence.”
Eva stole a quick glance at Finn's father, and was relieved to see the triumphant smile on his face. Finn's parents had definitely won this round, and there was nothing he could do about it. She almost sighed in relief. It looked like she'd be staying a while.
“Don't you worry none, dearie – we have a spare room you can use,” Mrs. Mullaney told her. “I'm sure ye brought some belongings with you. Where might they be?”
Eva gave her a tentative smile. “The sheriff was going to have one of his men deliver them here.”
“Fine,” beamed Mrs. Mullaney. “As soon as he brings them, I’ll have Finn put them in your room.”
Finn grabbed his fork and began to eat again. Even though he acted like he didn't want her there, she sensed in him – how could she describe it? – a need, a longing. But was it for her, or for something else? She couldn’t tell, and wasn’t sure she’d be there long enough to find out.
They ate in silence, which she guessed wasn’t the norm. The food was good, yet her stomach rolled. Her nerves were shot, she realized, and she just wanted to go to bed. Maybe when she did, she’d wake up and this whole ordeal would have been nothing but a bad dream.
And speaking of dreams … she stole a glance at Finn. He was certainly handsome, strong as an ox and, from what little she knew of him so far, just as stubborn. But if his parents knew him well enough to think this Lorcan Brody had done the right thing in sending her as his bride, she might not be sent packing after all. Perhaps the Mullaneys knew it was only a matter of time before their son would see things their way. If that was the case, then by the time her ankle healed, she could be married to this man.
Eva smiled at the thought and finished her dinner.
Five
Finn paced his room like a caged animal, finally coming to a stop in front of the window. His mother had him backed into a corner, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she got her way, just like she always did. Yet over the years, whenever she’d maneuver him into such a position, didn’t things always turn out? At the time, he usually didn't like it or agree with her, but he always came around.
What, then, did he have to worry about? If his mother's judgment could be relied upon, shouldn't he trust it? Did she see something in Eva Brock that he didn't?
But then, he'd seen plenty in Eva Brock himself. She was beautiful, if a little sad – he had to wonder what put such a look in her eye. He'd been so flustered and upset over what Lorcan had done that he’d ignored Miss Brock's remarks about not being able to return home. What happened there? Was she running from something, or someone? What if someone was trying to harm her? What sort of cad would he be then, if he sent her back?
He couldn't think straight, and decided some fresh air might help. He grabbed a jacket off a chair near his bed, put it on, and quietly left the house and building. He headed for the cemetery, where he knew he'd find peace and quiet.
He reached it, went through the gate, and strolled between the graves. There was a burial tomorrow and he'd have to work, but he was sure he could find a few moments to speak with Miss Brock about their predicament.
He leaned against a large headstone and folded his arms across his chest. The quiet of the night soothed him, and he looked up at the moon and smiled. It was beautiful, large and round and almost full – in another week it would be a Harvest Moon, his favorite. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Miss Brock would enjoy seeing it with him.
He frowned. How could she? She’d surely be gone by then.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and let his eyes roam the graveyard. A movement caught his eye, and he turned to look at the street beyond. A tall man was crossing the street to the other side, and it appeared as if he'd been standing in front of the funeral parlor. He stopped, turned and looked right at Finn.
Finn crouched against the headstone, a gut reaction, and watched him. Unfortunately, the man saw him. How could he not, with the moon so bright?
Or maybe he didn’t. Finn watched as he continued his way to the other side of the street and disappeared into the shadows.
“Finn Mullaney, just what do ye think yer doing?” he grumbled to himself and stood. Feeling stupid, he looked at the street again. There was no one there. So what if a man saw him standing in the graveyard? He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. It was quite obvious he hadn’t fully recovered from Lorcan’s ordeal months before, and a sudden flash of events passed before him … Lorcan's bloodied face after the fight, the threats to Finn’s family by that cur Lord Brennan, Lorcan’s kidnapping, and his being thrown into an arena of bloodthirsty spectators ...
And it had all been Finn’s fault.
His jaw tightened as he looked at the funeral parlor and his home. Eva Brock deserved better.
He turned, and gazed across the cemetery to the pumpkin patch beyond. A memory of Eva Brock waving her arms to keep her balance, losing it and disappearing amongst the vines and gourds made him smile. A part of him wished she would be around long enough to help his family harvest the pumpkins, and take them to the markets in the area. It was always a fun time, one that Finn looked forward to all year. But Miss Brock would be gone by then.
He was surprised at the disappointment he felt. He closed his eyes, raised his face to the sky, and opened them. “Lord,” he began. “Am I doing the right thing? Or is it just as Da says and I’m addled in the brain?”
Finn sighed, turned, and began to walk back to the house and his bed. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and he'd worry about it then.
* * *
The next morning, Eva awoke with a start. Where was she? How did she get here? Then she remembered, and fell back against the pillows with a weary sigh. Today her fate would be decided, and she’d just have to deal with it.
If Finn Mullaney overrode his parents’ wishes and sent her away, she’d have to either find someplace else to go, or figure out a way to stay in Oregon City. If she'd been smart, she’d have brought more money with her. But Betsy, Mercy Vander’s maid, had been so confident, having dealt with the Ridgley Mail-Order Bridal Service for the town’s pastor, that she saw no reason to take more than what she had. After all, nothing was supposed to go wrong ...
She suddenly sat up again. “That's it! That's what I'll do – I’ll write Betsy!” Of course, why hadn’t she thought of it before? She'd send word to Betsy, who in turn could get her some money to see her through until she could get settled, here or maybe Portland.
That is, if Betsy could get her hands on what little money Eva had, which might be easier said than done. Eva had her own bank account in Independence, but how would Betsy get her money out for her? More importantly, how could she get the money to her without raising suspicion? Eva didn’t dare risk her mother finding out she was in Oregon City – what a travesty that would be! And she didn’t want to have to borrow money from Betsy or anyone else in Independence. And would what little cash she had left in the bank be enough to help?
A knock sounded, making Eva
jump. “Are ye up yet, dearie?” Mrs. Mullaney called through the door.
“Yes,” Eva called back.
Mrs. Mullaney opened the door and poked her head in. “I've got yer breakfast all made.” She disappeared and closed the door, but before Eva could toss the covers aside, she opened it again. “Might ye be needing any help?”
“No thank you, I can manage. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Mrs. Mullaney smiled, winked at her, then disappeared again.
Eva stared at the door a moment. The plump woman was all brightness and sunshine – so unlike her own mother, who was more like a dark, ominous storm. She got up, hobbled to where she'd left her clothes the night before, and removed the large nightdress Mrs. Mullaney had loaned her. She donned her own clothes and limped to the door.
When she opened it, Finn stood on the other side, staring down at her. “Oh, my goodness! Did you knock?”
“I never got the chance.”
She put a hand over her heart. “Good heavens, you scared the wadding out of me!”
He looked her over. “Seems to me ye've not much wadding to lose. Now my mother, on the other hand…”
“Mr. Mullaney! Don't talk about your mother like that.”
“Why not? She does,” he said with a smile. “I've come to help ye to the kitchen.”
“Oh,” she said and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “I think I can manage.”
He looked her over a second time. “I doubt it,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her closer. Then he scooped her up and marched down the hall with her.
Feeling suddenly bold, Eva took a chance. “I think you like carrying me, Mr. Mullaney.”
He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and set her down. “Really? Whatever gave ye that idea?”
Eva shook her head and smiled. “Nothing,” she remarked and limped to the table. It was a mistake – the movement made her ankle throb.
Finn reached her in one stride and pulled out her chair. Did the pain show on her face? “Thank you,” she told him.