Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six

by Flightner, Ramona

  When they looked her over in a speculative manner, admiring her red hair gleaming in the sunlight and her curvy figure, she shook her head and took a step away from them. “I’m married to an O’Rourke.” They froze and any undesired attention disappeared at her pronouncement.

  “We have no crates here for you, Missus,” one man said, as he doffed his hat.

  “No,” she corrected. “I’m looking for Captain Pickens. Do you know if he’s returned to Fort Benton?”

  “Cap’n A.J.?” the other man said, as he scratched at his head and spat a wad of tobacco to one side. “Aye, he’s down there a ways.”

  Lorena nodded her thanks, scurrying away from them. She moved with an alert adroitness, as she maneuvered around carts, men, and horses. “Mr. A.J.!” she called out, when she saw the wiry man smoking his pipe, as he listened to a story from another.

  “Missus!” he said, with a whoop of delight. “I thought I wouldn’t see you until this evenin’, when I called at Seamus’s.” He paused as he looked at her, a hint of concern in his brown eyes. “Are you well?”

  “Yes,” she said, as she beamed at him. When the man behind A.J. grunted with displeasure, she flushed. “I beg your pardon. I should never have presumed to interrupt your important conversations.”

  A.J. waved at the irritated man. “Ah, ignore old Cookie. He always hates having a story interrupted.” A.J. winked at her. “But he’s so long-winded, I’ve yet to hear the end to one of his tales.” He urged her to a quieter part of the levee and waited for her to speak. “What couldn’t wait until this evening? I plan on stoppin’ by and visiting the O’Rourkes.”

  She wrung her hands and flushed. “I know it is improper, and none of the O’Rourkes will ever inquire after her, but I needed to know …” Lorena bit her lip, her red cheeks enhancing her pale complexion and her red hair.

  A.J. stared at her, before nodding. “Ah, you want to know if I’ve any news of your sister. Of Winnifred.” When Lorena shrugged her shoulders, A.J. sighed, with a hint of remorse, as though regretting what news he had to impart. “You’re a good woman. Even though she thought to harm you and destroyed your business, you still worry about her.”

  “She’s my baby sister,” Lorena said. “She’s alone.”

  Blushing, A.J. rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I ain’t so sure she’s spendin’ all that much time alone.” He looked at her, shrugging, as Lorena paled. “Rumor is, she’s cozied up with a wealthy man in Saint Louis.” He stared at her with pity. “I’m sorry, Missus, to be the bearer of bad news.”

  Lorena nodded. “It’s not your fault, Mr. A.J. It’s mine. For having any hope.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Now don’t be foolish, Missus. Life ain’t worth much, without hope.” He looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Seems that puffed-up baffoon hasn’t left town yet.”

  She turned to follow his glance and half smiled at A.J., continuing to misspeak. He enjoyed mangling words, either to befuddle those around him or to turn them into words that more aptly met his needs. Lorena knew he referred to her uncle as both a baboon and a buffoon. “No, my uncle is still in town, although he rarely speaks with me.”

  “Well, today ain’t one of your fortunate days,” A.J. muttered. “Urea,” he said, as the man approached, dressed in a flamboyantly colored waistcoat.

  Uriah Chaffee believed himself to be well respected and a much-sought-after lawyer. However, few legal disputes were had in Fort Benton, so he had entered into an agreement with a saloon owner to entice attractive women to serve the thirsty men at that establishment. Unfortunately for Uriah, he had been unable to entice his nieces Lorena and Phoebe to work for Mr. Bell as barmaids, and the women were astute enough to understand more than serving drinks would have been required of them.

  Winnifred had worked at the saloon for a short time, before she left town the previous year, her precipitous departure a grave disappointment to their uncle. As for other newly arrived women to the Territory, few women who passed through Fort Benton were so desperate that they needed work at the Daybreak Saloon. “You’re back then,” Uriah bellowed. “You meddlesome man.”

  A.J. beamed at him, as he stood with his hands on his hips, his head cocked to one side. “Aye, I’m like a good penny. Always turnin’ up when you most need it.” He winked at Lorena, when she giggled. “You’ve come to inquire after your niece in Saint Louis?”

  Uriah shook his head. “Why should I care what happened to that tease? She promised me she could coax her sister into workin’ at the saloon. Instead this one up and marries an O’Rourke, and Winnifred disappears.” He sighed, acting as though he were the most aggrieved man in Fort Benton.

  “Some would say you’re as tenderhearted as a rattlesnake,” A.J. said, any friendliness having disappeared from his gaze and his demeanor.

  Lorena stared at her uncle with contempt. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Oh, but you do,” he groused. “You’ve nearly cost me my good standing in this town.” He puffed out his ever-growing paunch, the scarlet waistcoat straining to contain his girth. “You’ll rue the day you ever defied me.”

  Watching her uncle half-walk, half-waddle away, Lorena spoke in a soft voice. “Why did he want to speak with me?”

  A.J. watched the other man, a gleam of speculation in his gaze. “I ain’t sure, Missus. Could be he wanted to torment you a little. Could be he was curious about your sister.” He rocked back onto his heels. “If I were him, I’d be hopin’ your gullible sister was returnin’ home too.”

  Lorena heaved out a breath. “Forgive me for being so foolish. I shouldn’t want her to return to Fort Benton. She’d wreak havoc again.”

  Chuckling, A.J. shrugged. “Well, that she most likely would. I ain’t ever met a young woman so keen on causin’ chaos.” He nodded and winked at her. “I’ll see you later, Missus, if I’m able to get free.”

  Lorena nodded, her gaze on her devious uncle, who remained on the boardwalk, now chatting with the owner of the Daybreak Saloon, Mr. Bell. She shivered, as her uncle’s anger toward her had never abated. With a proud tilt of her head, she returned to the bookstore, eager to spend more time with her husband and her adopted son, Gavin.

  * * *

  Day had begun to turn to evening, and Dunmore remained deep in thought, as he perched on his rock. He froze when he heard footsteps approaching, his heart leaping at the possibility it would be Maggie coming to see him. He turned, glowering at the sight of Cormac Ahern instead. “Ahern,” he muttered, with a curse. “I thought you’d have sense to leave me well enough alone.”

  Cormac stood, his head cocked to one side, as he studied the surly man. Married to the eldest O’Rourke daughter, Niamh, Cormac had discovered a contentment he had always believed would remain elusive. “I find I’m not as eager to be sensible these days.” His quiet words made Dunmore grunt with disgust.

  Where Dunmore ran a successful stagecoach business, Cormac was a bullwhacker. He transported goods brought in by the steamboats to the various burgeoning towns throughout the territory. Like Dunmore, he worked hard in the summer and enjoyed the long off-season, although he had a wife and children to keep him busy.

  Cormac took off his hat, running a hand through his long brown hair and fixed his piercing blue eyes on the desolate man. “She’ll come around.”

  “She’s not the problem,” Dunmore said, with a sigh. “Do you like the man?” He continued to stare at the Missouri River, its timeless flow easing a tiny portion of the ache in his chest. “Seamus?”

  Huffing out a shocked breath, Cormac gaped at him. “Of course I do. As you do.” When Dunmore remained silent, Cormac asked, “What’s got you riled?”

  Dunmore stood, tossing aside the piece of grass he’d tied into knots. “He extracted a promise I’m finding hard to abide by and didn’t keep his side of the bargain.” He paced away and then paced back again. “I resent that my honor prevents me from disregarding what I agreed to.”

  “Maggie seemed d
istraught when I saw her,” Cormac murmured. He met the younger man’s tormented stare. “You hurt her.”

  “Dammit, I didn’t. Her father did.” He rubbed at his temples, as an impotent rage filled him. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless?” He flushed, as Cormac watched Dunmore with amusement for a moment, before Dunmore sobered. “I know she’s young, but I will always treat her well.”

  “Maggie has the oldest soul of any O’Rourke.” Cormac furrowed his brows, as he stared at the man who’d been his friend since Cormac had arrived in Fort Benton, back then so distraught that his own brother was to marry the woman he loved. Through Dunmore’s guidance and tutelage, Cormac had become a successful bullwhacker and now ran an enviable business. Plus he was now married to the woman he had always loved. “Was Seamus foolish enough to insist you stay away from Maggie?” At Dunmore’s bleak nod, Cormac swore.

  “He saw or heard of us kissing,” Dunmore admitted.

  “Many women Maggie’s age are married,” Cormac said, before smiling wryly. “Although wee Maura won’t wed until she’s fifty.” He grinned, as Dunmore chuckled at his joke about Maura—Niamh’s daughter from her first marriage and Cormac’s niece, yet Cormac considered her his daughter. “Why would Seamus want you to stay away, when Jacques could return at any moment? Seamus should want to ensure that you’d keep wee Maggie safe.”

  Dunmore sighed, as he collapsed onto the rock again. “He wasn’t rational. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  Cormac crossed his arms over his strong chest, as he gazed at the Missouri for a long moment. “Well, I know one thing for certain,” he mused. “Mary has no inkling of what her husband has done. For, if she did, she would have put a stop to. She’s your biggest champion, after Maggie.”

  Dunmore shrugged. Finally he looked at his friend. “Why did you seek me out?”

  Huffing out a laugh, he said, “I thought to invite you to dinner at the O’Rourkes. I didn’t know what had occurred.” Chagrined, he murmured, “I suspect you’d prefer to avoid any interaction with them.”

  Dunmore rose, shaking his head. “No. I want to go. To show Seamus I will keep my side of the bargain.” He paused. “And I have to see Maggie again.”

  Cormac slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know all about that need. Come.” He motioned for Dunmore to follow him the short distance back to town. Cormac suspected there would be fireworks at this evening’s dinner and gave thanks he would be present to witness them.

  Chapter 2

  Maggie entered through the back door into the kitchen, intent on racing upstairs to her bedroom. With Phoebe married to Eamon and Lorena to Declan, and now that Winnifred had left for Saint Louis the previous summer, Maggie had a bedroom all to herself. Never had she been so glad to have her own space. However, her mum was in the kitchen, and Mary stepped in front of her, preventing Maggie from making a mad dash to her refuge.

  “Maggie, love,” Mary murmured, as she pulled her close. She spoke in a soft voice, and the patter of her brothers’ feet sounded, as they departed the kitchen, leaving them alone. “Does he not want to come to dinner?” Mary eased away her youngest daughter, running her hands over Maggie’s head, as she gazed at her with love and confusion. Mary knew, as well as any O’Rourke, how dedicated Dunmore was to her daughter.

  “He … He …” Maggie shook her head, unable to speak around her sobs. She fell forward, burying her head in her mother’s shoulder. She’d thought she wanted to be alone, but there existed no greater comfort than crying in her mother’s arms.

  “Shh, my precious girl,” Mary whispered, gently rocking her, as she ran her hands over her back. “All will be well. Whatever happened will be made right again.” She paused as Maggie continued to cry, but not the bone-jarring sobs of a few moments before. “Did I ever tell you about the argument your da an’ I had when we were courtin’?” When her daughter backed away to stare at her in wonder, Mary smiled, swiping her hands over Maggie’s cheeks.

  “Aye, I know you believe it was all harps and fields of shamrocks,” she smiled wryly, as Maggie let out an involuntary giggle. “An’ I know that’s how your da wants you to believe everything was between us.” She smiled with satisfaction, as her gaze turned distant for a moment. “And it was. For the most part. But then, my da wanted Seamus to give up bein’ a farmer. Wanted him to be a fisherman.”

  “A fisherman?” Maggie whispered. “Isn’t Da seasick when he’s on a boat?”

  Mary’s gaze gleamed with humor. “Aye, an’ he’s a man of the land.” She flushed, ducking her head a moment, before meeting her daughter’s gaze. “All I could see was that he wasn’t followin’ my father’s wishes. The man I loved said no to my father. An’ I never even considered how we didn’t know any fishermen nor how was Seamus to become a fisherman if we didn’t even own a boat? All I could see was that Seamus was goin’ against what my da wanted.” She paused a long moment, before she said in a soft voice, “I had to learn an important lesson.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “If I loved Seamus, I had to believe in him. In whatever he did. And not allow the whims of my family to change Seamus, as he attempted to please me.” She giggled. “An’ my da had no interest in Seamus giving up his land. ’Twas good land before the famine. ’Twas a test to see if Seamus was strong enough to be his own man.”

  “What happened between you and Da?” Maggie asked.

  “We fought an’ yelled at each other. And then I saw him look over the land—with almost as much love as he looked at me—while he considered giving it up. I knew then I could never ask such a thing of him. That I had no right. My father’s wishes be damned. I knew then that Seamus’s happiness was as important as my own. We married within a month and were happy for a time. He and my da had a deep mutual respect, each for the other.”

  “You’re happy again.” At her mother’s gentle nod, a few tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks. “The difference in your story and mine is you knew Da loved you. He wanted you.” She shook her head and then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Dunmore doesn’t want me.”

  Her mother’s hands on her shoulders tightened. “You know that to be a lie, lass. For years, he’s been dedicated only to you. Don’t doubt him now.”

  “He wanted nothing to do with me!” Maggie cried out, her breath emerging in gasps again. “Nothing. He looked at me as though I were a … an annoying child he had to tolerate. He didn’t call out to me when I left. He didn’t care that he hurt me.”

  Mary frowned, as Maggie fell forward into her embrace again. “Oh, my sweet girl. I know there’s been some sort of misunderstandin’. I know how much he cares for you.”

  Maggie clung to her mother. “No, it was all a game.” She took what comfort she could, instinctively understanding her torment wouldn’t cease until she had destroyed all emotion for Dunmore. She feared she would never be successful.

  * * *

  Dunmore entered the kitchen behind Cormac, watching with veiled envy as Cormac embraced his pregnant wife, Niamh, before picking up his daughter, Maura, for a kiss. Their son, Cillian, was in Aileen’s lap. Dunmore noted this would be a large family dinner, although almost all O’Rourke dinners were large, as they had twelve children, and five had married. He bit down bitterness that Maggie wouldn’t be the sixth O’Rourke sibling to marry.

  “Dunmore,” Seamus said, a note of surprise in his voice. “I hadn’t thought …” He broke off what more he would have said, while Dunmore stared at him, not concealing the contempt in his gaze.

  “Cormac invited me,” he said gruffly, before sitting down near the end of the table, where the younger boys tended to sit. Bryan, Henri, and Niall gasped with delight at his presence, peppering him with questions about his trips throughout the Territory.

  “Do you see Indians?”

  “Do you ever worry they’ll scalp you?” Bryan asked, making a motion with his hand as though he were lo
sing his hair.

  “Do you shoot many people?” Henri asked.

  Dunmore stared at the boys, slowly changing into men, and chuckled. “Aye, I see Indians sometimes, but they tend to keep their distance. I’ve never had reason to worry much about my scalp, and I’ve yet to have a reason to shoot a passenger.” He grinned at them. “But I’m always prepared.”

  They chortled and continued their inquisition. Dunmore was thankful for their eagerness to speak with him, as he steadfastly ignored Maggie’s entrance into the kitchen and her startled gasp at his presence. Even though he never looked in her direction, he knew exactly where she was at all times. His feigned joviality became increasingly taxing, as her quiet anguish spread over him, like a miasma of despair.

  Kevin—the second eldest O’Rourke sibling, who sat beside his wife, Aileen—studied Dunmore and his sister with concern. “I’m surprised you are back already, Dun. Maggie didn’t mention you’d returned.”

  Dunmore flit a glance in her direction, stiffening when he saw her sitting with rounded shoulders and bowed head, as she studied her bowl of stew. “I returned late last night. I’ll leave again soon. There’s nothing keeping me here, as the busy season has begun.”

  “Nothing keeping you here?” Lorena asked with confusion, as Maggie flinched. Lorena sat beside her husband, Declan, the fourth-eldest O’Rourke sibling. Her cheeks flushed nearly as red as her hair, as she fought indignation on behalf of her beloved sister-in-law. “I know you are mistaken, Dunmore.”

  He shook his head, as he ate another spoonful of homemade stew that tasted like a mouthful of charcoal in his present state. “I assure you. I’ve been persuaded to see that my … attentions are not desired.” He glared again at Seamus, then rose and nodded in the direction of Mary and Maggie, although he never met Maggie’s gaze. “Thank you for supper.”