Finn's Fortune

by Kathleen Ball

  Finn’s Fortune

  Kathleen Ball

  Copyright © 2018 by Kathleen Ball

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  This one is for you Mo!

  I got a lot of the inspiration for this novel from the life of my Grandfather, Thomas Tighe. He like the hero in this book had to leave Ireland and come to America to start a new life. He was an amazing man.

  And to Bruce, Steven, Colt, Clara, and Emmy because I love them.

  Contents

  Series Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  More Langley Legacy

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kathleen

  Mail Order Brides of Texas

  Series Description

  Langley’s Legacy

  “Beare and Forebeare” (be patient and endure)

  Meet the Langley’s who’ve traveled from their homeland of Ireland with only what they could carry. Along with the meager possessions brought from their homeland of Ireland, were a piece of lace and a silver pocket watch with the family motto “Beare and Forebeare” inscribed inside.

  When the Langley’s settled in New Dawn Springs, Oregon, little did they suspect the land would be a legacy to those who would come after them and that the land would be owned by the family for generations to come.

  Follow the Langley’s rich family history through the years as told through the wonderful storytelling voices of these six bestselling authors.

  1850 - Finn’s Fortune - Kathleen Ball

  1875 - Patrick’s Proposal - Hildie McQueen

  1899 - Donovan’s Deceit - Kathy Shaw

  1933 - Aiden’s Arrangement - Peggy McKenzie

  1968 - Heath’s Homecoming - Merry Farmer

  Present - Collin’s Challenge - Sylvia McDaniel

  Chapter One

  Maureen shivered and her teeth chattered while she struggled out of her improvised bed and put on her shawl. She shook her head. Everything was improvised but someday she’d have a grand house with a farm to match. All she needed to do was to figure out how to survive the frigid winter and then start planting.

  The days were getting shorter, and she needed to work every hour of daylight. After grabbing some kindling and shavings, she climbed outside to build a fire. Abruptly, she stopped and stared. A wagon sat directly across the stream from her.

  Her stomach tied into knots and a myriad of thoughts ran through her mind. She needed to concentrate on one thing: survival. As fast as lightning, she scrambled back into her wagon and got dressed. Then she pulled herself together, laid her fire and got her coffee boiling, glancing over her shoulder the whole time. She had a couple of firearms but wasn’t exactly sure how they worked. Oh, she’d seen people use them plenty of times but she never had to load one herself.

  She stilled when she saw movement in the other wagon. Her mouth dropped open when a brawny man with thick brown hair and blue eyes jumped to the ground. He wore only his pants, and the muscles in his chest flexed as he yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He froze in place as his gaze met hers.

  Quickly, she averted her gaze to the ground lest he think she was ogling his indecency.

  “Top of the mornin’ to ya,” he greeted in a strong Irish brogue. He nodded his head at her.

  “Good morning. Will you be on your way soon?” She stood straight and tall not wanting him to think her a weak female.

  “No. I do believe my traveling days are over. I’m putting down roots right here. I got my 320 acres at the claim office in New Dawn Springs yesterday.” Though he mentioned the nearest town, he spread his arms and gestured to the land surrounding him. “I stocked up there as well, and here I am. Does your 320 acres start at the stream?”

  “The stream is the boundary line. My husband and I were told we’d have to share it with whoever bought the property next to our 640 acres.” She gave him a sweet smile. She hated it, but she’d have to lie again.

  “Ah, so you’re married. I’m Finn Langley recently from County Mayo, Ireland. Is your husband still sleeping?”

  “I’m Maureen Mc— I mean Maureen Cleary.” She forced a chuckle. “I’m recently married, so I’m still getting used to my married name. My husband Malcolm is at the far end of our property. We’ve had problems with squatters. I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime.” Dang, how was she supposed to find someone else to pretend to be her husband?

  Finn ran his fingers through his brown hair, the motion setting off red highlights to sparkle in the early morning sunlight. “I’d like to meet him. Maybe we can help each other build our cabins.”

  Maureen crossed her arms in front of her. “From what I’ve heard, the stream floods on your side. You might want to build elsewhere on the property.” She was sure to go to hell for her lies.

  “Thanks for the warning.” He grinned, and her stomach fluttered. “I’ll take my chances.” He gave her a knowing look.

  Dang, he was on to her.

  “How long have you and your husband been here?”

  She shrugged. “About a month, I think. Why?”

  “No reason. You haven’t built much in the way of a cabin. I just wondered is all. It’s not my business. I need to get dressed. I didn’t realize my neighbor was female. I’ll take care to be clothed in your presence from now on. What part of the old country are you from?”

  “County Tyrone. I miss it,” she added, fighting a wave of sadness She missed her family every day. “It was hard to say good-bye to my ma, but food was scarce and she had my brothers. I was another mouth to feed.”

  Finn nodded. “I left for reasons like that. How long have you been in America?”

  She clasped her hands together. “Over five years now.”

  “Good on you. Have a good day.” He climbed back into his wagon.

  Maureen sat on a big rock near the fire and prayed for her soul. Almost everything she’d told Finn had been a lie. Except for where she was from and why she left. He was a fellow Irishman. Perhaps he could be trusted? Her throat tightened. No, she wouldn’t put her fate in another’s hands ever again.

  She drank her coffee and then climbed into her wagon. Next, she hung out men’s clothing on the wash line. Maybe this would fool him. As she studied the two shirts and the pair of worn trousers fluttering in the wind, her shoulders sagged. She’d need more than a few clothes to keep the charade up.

  Finn smiled. The view from his place was lovely indeed. The lass was a beauty. Her red hair and bright blue eyes had him longing for home. The home he had been forced to leave. He’d never see Ireland again. He sighed and took out the only thing he had left of his family. An ancient pocket watch. It had been handed down through the years to the eldest male Langley and inside was etched the family motto: Beare and Forebeare. The words meant be patient and endure. He shook his head. It really described much of his life so far. The outside of the silver watch had a shamrock etched on it, and he rubbed his finger over the design. It was probably worth some money, but it meant more to him than money. He chuckled. He hoped to still have it to hand down someday.

  His first chore was to make sure his horse, Justice, was taken care of then he was off to fell some trees. He needed a cabin. He’d heard the wi
nters could be nasty. He frowned. Maybe this Malcolm fellow wasn’t familiar with cold weather. He was looking forward to meeting him.

  When he was ready, he grabbed his gloves and axe. He looked but saw no sign of Mrs. Cleary or anyone who might be her husband. They probably had their own routine. He didn’t have far to go to find fine, thick trees for his cabin. He’d be clearing some of the land for his horses. For the cattle, it didn’t matter as much.

  He chopped and chopped all day until he had several trees down. He kept glancing at the other wagon but he didn’t see anyone about. It sure would be easier with two men, but he wouldn’t have the option it seemed.

  He stopped for the day and filled a bucket with cool water. Using a dipper, he drank his fill and then tended to his horse again. He started his fire and heated canned beans. Still there was no sign of the Clearys except the clothes that were hung to dry had been taken off the clothesline. From the size of the shirts he’d seen, Malcolm must be a bear of a man.

  They weren’t his business, but he wouldn’t mind looking at the pretty lass again. He stared into the fire as it got darker and colder. He missed his ma the most. She’d cried when he left but he hadn’t had a choice. There was a price on his head, and he’d had to get out of Ireland. He was a Fenian – the group of people in Ireland who wanted the English out of their country.

  His job had been to recruit members and to find guns. He’d found plenty of guns in England and smuggled them into Ireland until he was caught. The treatment inside the prison was harsh and extremely hard to endure, but he and the lads had endured it and they’d survived. Well over a year ago, they’d broken out of prison. Finn went a different way than the rest and he was one of the few who hadn’t been caught and shot. He’d had but a moment to say good-bye to his ma, and then he’d had help getting onto a ship bound for America.

  Once he reached New York City, he had been greeted and treated very well by those brothers in arms who had also left Ireland for the same reason. But one day Tommy O’Dell came running and told him a traitor had turned Finn in for the money. Finn skedaddled to Independence Missouri and joined a wagon train to Oregon. He’d told no one where he was going. It was safer that way.

  He’d built plenty of cabins in Ireland but they all had thatched roofs. He’d studied the cabins here as they rode by and he was confident he’d have no trouble building one.

  Hopefully, Malcolm Cleary would end up a friend. It had been lonely traveling the trail, keeping to himself.

  Maureen piled every quilt she had on top of her. She didn’t dare make a fire that night. Finn had too many questions. If he wasn’t going to move, she’d have to. The thought of hauling water everyday didn’t appeal to her but the thought of losing her land was unbearable. Maybe she could watch Finn and copy what he did to make herself a cabin. She’d just have to make excuses as to why Malcolm was never home. Having a plan, she felt better, and finally she fell asleep.

  She awoke to the sound of chopping wood. Her serenity was gone. She quickly got dressed, put on the coffee, and grabbed a biscuit she’d made three days ago. Then she put some of her precious beans in water to soak. She’d be able to cook them tonight.

  Catching sight of Finn made her heart beat faster. His shirt tightened against his corded back muscles when he moved. He seemed to be a good honest man, and if he knew of her lies he’d probably feel honor bound to turn her in.

  She rubbed her hand over her eyes, feeling a bit weary before she even started. But she decided to buck up. Work always came first. She found her gloves and axe and set out to cut down a few trees. Finn had cut so many yesterday, and today he was having Justice pull them closer to his wagon. She’d sold her oxen for food and a mule named Contrary. She probably should have gotten a horse.

  A smile graced her face. Contrary wouldn’t pull logs. Maureen would have to try but she already knew she’d be the loser. But one thing at a time.

  She stopped at the nearest tree and swung the axe. Frowning, she stared at the spot she had just hit. It looked as though it was barely scratched. Anything worth having was worth working for. She swung again and again and finally she saw under the bark.

  Muscle strength wasn’t her best attribute, but if she kept working, she’d get stronger every day. She had plenty of strength to build a farm. She’d get this done too.

  After a long time, one tree fell. A bubble of delighted laughter started in her chest until she was laughing loud and clear. She didn’t need a husband. If the snow held off long enough, she’d have her cabin built. A sense of accomplishment settled upon her. She glanced in Finn’s direction and saw him scowl. What was his problem?

  From his determined footsteps in her direction, she was bound to know in a minute.

  “Good day, Mr. Langley.”

  “Yes it is. I, um… Why are you cutting trees close to where the house will be?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

  “Trees will keep a cabin cooler in the summer and block some of the snow in the winter. I’d go out a bit and cut down ones in places where you plan to plant. You’ll need to clear that area eventually won’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Malcolm must have told me and I forgot. Thank you, Mr. Langley for your wise counsel.”

  “Where is your husband, Mrs. Cleary? I’d sure like to meet him. I was thinking with two of us we could get both cabins up before winter. Many hands make light work as they say.” He grinned at her until dimples appeared in both of his cheeks.

  Oh, he was a handsome one, and he seemed to know it. There was no way she’d fall for a conceited Irishman. She’d met them all before, and she wasn’t interested. They all seemed to gravitate toward her because of her red hair. But she knew better. She didn’t need a man to make her farm successful.

  “You must have just missed him. Malcolm went hunting.” Another lie; she was going to hell for sure.

  “Tell you what. We could share the hunting duty and share the meat we get.”

  She frowned at him and his eyes widened.

  “I’m sorry for being too forward, Mrs. Cleary. I was just hoping neighbor could help neighbor. I can see the idea isn’t to your liking.” He studied her for a moment. “I have a lot of work to do. Some of the men in town talked about an early winter, and I want to be ready. Good day, Mrs. Cleary.”

  She watched him walk away. He had quite the swagger. She picked up her axe and headed out away from where the house would be. The muscles in her arms, shoulders and back all burned but she had to go on. It took the rest of the day to fell another tree.

  It took all her energy to walk back to her wagon. Thankfully, all she had to do was put the beans over the fire. She added wood shavings to the banked fire and quick enough a flame burned. Glancing over at Finn’s camp, she saw him eating beans out of a can.

  If only she had the nerve to invite him to share her supper. He was right about neighbor helping neighbor. That was how they’d all survived in Ireland. She’d have to kill off Malcolm. It would be a lot of trouble. From what she’d read, if a husband died, the widow got all the land.

  How should he die? It would have to be something that wouldn’t involve questions or a doctor. She’d head out with her shovel tomorrow and dig a grave and then refill it. A makeshift cross would be his grave marker.

  No one had met her fake husband, so she didn’t expect much sympathy. She didn’t need to go to New Dawn Springs in the near future anyway. When she was done, she’d mention it to Finn and that would stop all the questions about her husband. She sighed loudly. One lie was leading to another, and that was not how she wanted to live her life.

  The beans were pretty good, and she’d made enough to last a few days. After she was done, she banked her fire and went to bed. She had a big day tomorrow. She still had to figure out how her husband had died.

  Where could she be? Finn kept looking for her, but she’d been gone all day. At least she’d taken that mule of hers. He chopped down another tree. Did she at least have a gun? The sun
was beginning to set, and he worried even more.

  He sat next to his fire and reminded himself that she had a husband. She was probably snuggling up to him right now. He ran his fingers through his hair. She was not of his concern. He had enough of his own problems to deal with.

  Staring into the fire, he stayed up much later than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of Maureen. Finally, admitting to himself she wouldn’t be back, he stood and stretched. Movement in the distance caught his attention. He looked again and didn’t see anything. After rubbing his eyes, he peered again and there was someone walking slowly with a mule. He furrowed his brow. Maureen Cleary. Where was her husband? Finn shrugged. Probably doing whatever it was he had been doing before.

  He almost decided to go into his wagon, but the way she limped stopped him. He didn’t know enough about the terrain to guess where she’d been. Her body looked weary, and her movements were slow. He ran in her direction and caught her as she fell. Her dress was heavy with mud and it made carrying her difficult. Even her mule was caked in the stuff.

  Letting go of the mule’s lead, she hung her head. “Malcolm is dead.”

  “Malcolm your husband?” She nodded. “What happened? Where is he?”

  “I buried him in the forest. He’s a big man and the hole took forever to dig. There was so much mud. I don’t understand it. It’s dry here.”

  “It might have rained where you buried him.”

  She nodded absently.

  “How did he die?”

  She stared out to the horizon. “His horse must have thrown him. His head lay on a rock with blood on it. I looked but I didn’t see the bay anywhere.”