Her anger at her father burned bright, and she clung to her ire as a way to battle her sorrow. For she knew, if she loosened her hold on her rage, she would enter a morass of despair that she might never emerge from. The distance between her and her father grew every day, and she rebuffed each of his attempts to span the growing chasm. Maggie stiffened as she heard footsteps approach, and she hoped it wasn’t her father attempting yet another overture of reconciliation that would prove unsuccessful.
“I thought I might find you here,” Nora called out, as she approached. She wore a saffron-colored dress that enhanced her subtle beauty. Her brown eyes seemed to glow—either from the golden reflection from the dress or from mischief that Maggie had no interest in.
“Leave me be,” Maggie whispered. “I have nothing to offer anyone right now.”
Nora stared at her and gave a grunt of displeasure. “I would have to agree with you. You’ve allowed yourself to be defeated, Maggie, and I’m disappointed in you.”
Maggie twirled to face her, a hint of her previously passionate nature returning, as she glared at the woman. “How dare you say such a thing to me! I’m not the one who forced him away.”
Nora waited patiently, until Maggie’s outburst faded, and she stood in front of the Bordello owner, quivering. “No, you didn’t. Although you were the cause of the accident. Never forget that.”
“What?” Maggie asked, as her hands covered her chest, attempting to ward off a lethal wound.
“Dunmore only traveled that road for you. He had no reason to take on such an insignificant trip, when his main route is always to the larger towns.”
Maggie collapsed to her knees, the tall grass shoulder height all around her. “You’re saying this is my fault.”
Nora muttered about marring her good skirts, before she knelt in front of Maggie. “Dearest girl,” she said, with deep affection. “I’ve adored you from the moment I got to know you. You are like the daughter who I always dreamed I would have.” She shrugged, as though the loss of that dream did not affect her greatly.
Maggie stared at her in wonder. “You’re a Madam. You’d not want a child.”
Nora nodded. “I would never want to raise a child in the Bordello. But I’m still a woman. I had other dreams as a girl.” She paused as she returned to what she deemed the important topic. “Now you blame your father. He blames himself. Dunmore is missing, and you wish you were dead.” She raised an eyebrow. “Have I missed anything?”
“Dunmore’s dead,” Maggie whispered, battling tears.
“No, my dearest girl, not until years have passed or someone has found his body should you believe he’s dead. It’s odd to me that everyone’s body but his was found.” She paused, but Maggie remained quiet. “As for your anger toward your father, do you want to have his death on your conscience too?”
“His death?” Maggie asked, jerking with surprise at Nora’s frank question.
Nora’s intelligent brown eyes belied her annoyance. “How can you live with the man and not know what he’s planning?” At Maggie’s shake of her head, Nora said in a terse tone, “He’s planning to travel to that backwater town to search for Dunmore. Says he won’t come back until he has answers. Intends on taking a few of your brothers with him.”
“He can’t! It’s the busy season.” Maggie rubbed at her head, as she whispered, “He promised he’d never leave Mum again.”
Nora looked into Maggie’s tormented gaze. “For you, he’d break such a promise.”
Maggie pushed herself up, holding her hand out to help the older women rise. “No, I can’t allow that. I have to …” She paused as her breath caught. “I have to go, Madam Nora. Thank you.” Impulsively she threw her arms around the woman’s neck, giving her a hug.
Maggie raced along the path that ran along the backside of the town, ignoring those who called out to her. She refused to believe she’d be too late this time as well. Barreling into her father’s warehouse, she saw Kevin and Niall stare at her with concern and thinly veiled condemnation. “Da?” she gasped. At Kevin’s nod toward the office, Maggie approached with a sense of trepidation.
Peering inside, she paused, as she attempted to calm her breathing and to appear composed. Any such thought fled, as she saw her father slam his hand onto his desk, swear, and rise, as he faced away from the door, his head bowed. For the first time, he appeared defeated and dejected.
“Da?” she whispered.
Seamus turned to face Maggie, his gaze glowing with anguish, as he stared at his youngest daughter. “Lass, are you well?” He strode to her, his strong hands cupping her shoulders. “Did someone dare to harm you?”
“Da,” Maggie whispered again, as she fell forward into his strong arms. A keening wail emerged, as soul-deep sobs sputtered forth. She pressed herself farther into his embrace, relishing the feel of his sturdy chest underneath her.
“Whoever hurt you, lass,” Seamus murmured, as he held her close, “I promise. He’ll wish he’d never been born.”
Maggie sniffled and pushed herself backward to peer up at him. “No one hurt me, Da. I … Don’t leave. Don’t go,” she begged. “Don’t leave us alone here, without you.”
Seamus stilled, his gaze searching hers. “I have to go, my Maggie. I have to find your Dunmore. Bring him back, if he’s alive. And, if he’s not, bring him here, so you have a grave to pray over.”
Holding a hand to her heart, Maggie shook her head. “I have him here,” she said, as her breath stuttered. “I don’t want you to go.” She clung to his arms, when he attempted to move away from her. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Da.” Tears clung to her long eyelashes, as she looked at him beseechingly. “Please. Don’t hurt me again.”
Seamus inhaled sharply, the rasp of his breath filling the otherwise silent room. “I need you to forgive me, Maggie.”
Maggie gasped in deep breaths, nodding subtly. “I do, Da. I realized, when the Madam told me what you had planned, that I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you too. Not because of me.”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders stiff, the lines around his mouth and his eyes even more pronounced by the grief and the sorrow he exuded. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this right, Maggie.”
She bit her lip and flushed. “I’m so sorry.”
He took a half step forward, cupping her cheek, as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “What do you have to ask my forgiveness for? I’m the one who hurt you.”
Maggie shook her head and then nodded, making it look as though her head were moving in a circle. Finally she blurted out, “I used words to hurt you, and I’ve held on to my anger as a shield. I wanted to hold it forever, so I never had to feel this sorrow. But Nora wouldn’t let me.” Tears slipped out. “She thinks I should continue to hope he’s alive, but should I?”
Seamus made a soft cooing sound, as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her again. “I don’t know what is right or wrong, my darling girl. I want you to do what will bring you the least pain.” He stroked a hand over her back and breathed into her ear. “And what will allow you to live a full life someday in the future.”
“I don’t want to imagine a life without him, Da,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He tightened his hold on her. “I know, love. I know.”
Maggie stood for many minutes, taking solace from her father, discovering a small measure of peace after the past days and weeks of turmoil.
* * *
Seamus returned home to find Niamh at the stove. Her children played on the floor in a small area that he had built them with short wood walls, all which could be taken apart with ease when it was time for a meal or to move the play area to another room. At his inquisitive glance, Niamh motioned upstairs, and Seamus nodded. He kissed his eldest daughter on her forehead, before searching for his wife.
When he approached their door, he eased it open, stilling at finding his Mary bent over, as she sobbed. “A ghrá,” he murmured, calling her his love
in Gaelic, as he shut the door and moved to her. He knelt in front of her, stilling any attempt to soothe her, as she sat bolt upright.
“No!” she gasped. “You weren’t meant to be home. I was to have time alone.” She scrubbed at her face with a handkerchief, before she lost control again. “I promise I will be strong.”
“My most precious love,” he said, “what has happened?” Rising, he moved, so he was on the bed and pulled her head against his chest. “Share your sorrow with me. You know I’d happily carry any burden to ensure you were well.”
Mary wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t want you to leave,” she admitted in a soft voice. “I have an overwhelmin’ fear somethin’ awful will happen while you are away. Either here or to you.” She shivered. “I can’t shake that fear.” She calmed, as she breathed in his scent and felt his presence. “But I know you must go. Must find a way to bring harmony to your relationship with Maggie.”
“Ah, love,” he murmured, kissing her head.
She backed away, her expression filled with embarrassment. “I’m bein’ selfish.”
“Selfish?” Seamus rasped, his hands cupping her face, as he gazed adoringly into her eyes. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word, my love.” He kissed her softly, when she failed to laugh. “Do you know what it means to me to see you mourn my departure? To know you’d miss me as I’d miss you?”
She half sobbed, as he kissed her forehead, cheeks, and then behind one ear, evoking a shiver. “Seamus, I’ll be lost without you.”
He sat back to stare into her wounded gaze. “Aye, as would I without you. Which is why we owe another debt of gratitude to Nora.” He waited, as Mary shook her head subtly in confusion at the apparent change in topic. “Aye, she spoke with wee Maggie. Convinced her that she was bein’ a fool to cling to her anger.” His expression was filled with pride and relief. “An’ Maggie sought me out, a ghrá. Forgave me.”
Mary gasped, her hands gripping her husband’s arms so hard that she would leave bruises. “You’re stayin’? You’ll not leave me again?” A tear coursed down her cheek, after her plaintive question.
“I’ll not leave you, my Mary,” he whispered. “Although there may come a time when I have to. But not now.”
“Oh, thank God,” Mary breathed. She fell forward, nestling into her husband’s embrace.
* * *
Maggie wandered to stand beside the Missouri River, absently listening to the men talking and shouting to each other, as they loaded wagons or loitered in front of saloons. Her gaze focused on the steady flow of the river. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she sighed, admitting to herself that she had always taken Dunmore’s constancy for granted. Deep inside, she had always assumed he would return to her. That he would be as unable to remain apart from her, as she would be from him.
However, now she doubted. She battled a deep-seated fear that she would never see his gaze lit with joy at the mere sight of her. See his mouth quirk, with a mixture of adoration and humor, when she told one of her stories. See his whole demeanor blaze with desire, when she stepped closer.
With a stuttering breath, she raised one hand to her chest, closing her eyes, as she held on to hope, with a tattered tenacity. She knew he was alive. He had to be.
“Maggie?”
Jumping, Maggie spun to face Cormac. “You scared the life out of me,” she gasped, as she stared at Niamh’s husband. He was dressed as though he were about to depart, but that made no sense, as it was too late in the day. “Are you leaving now?”
He shook his head. “No, in the morning. I just returned.”
Maggie focused more closely on him, noticing he was covered in dust. “You should go to Niamh. She misses you terribly when you are away.”
Nodding, Cormac stared at her for a long moment. “I will. You shouldn’t be here alone, Maggie.” He paused. “I promise you. I’ll look for him. I’ll find him.”
A gush of air left Maggie, and she sagged forward, thankful when Cormac’s strong arm reached out to catch her. She fell into his embrace, as she shuddered. “Da was going to search,” she whispered. “I couldn’t lose him too.” She looked up, flushing with embarrassment. “Not that I want to lose you either,” she stammered.
He chuckled. “You won’t lose me. And I’m more used to roaming the Territory than Seamus is.” He gave her arm a squeeze, his gaze inquisitive. When she nodded, he eased her away, waiting a moment to ensure she could stand on her own, before he fully released her. “Keep believing he is alive. Sometimes, all we need is faith, Maggie.” He nodded at her, as he sauntered away toward the home he shared with her sister, Niamh.
As Maggie watched him leave, for the first time since she had heard of the accident, a kernel of hope took root in Maggie’s soul.
Chapter 5
A month had passed since Maggie had received the horrible news from Ardan about Dunmore’s accident. As each additional day passed, a glimmer of her hope that Dunmore would return faded. Cormac had yet to return, and Maggie knew that Niamh, although stoic, missed her husband and wanted him home for a short visit.
Today, a bright, hot day in early August, Maggie left her parents’ house after breakfast, thankful the town was still busy, as her family’s businesses were thriving with the increased number of men arriving to travel into the Territory. She thought of Dunmore, and how she may never see … She broke off that thought, refusing to believe he were truly dead.
Instead she wandered to the creek and then took a circuitous route to the livery, ignored by Mr. Harrison, as she was a frequent visitor. When she saw Dunmore’s horses, she felt closer to him. “Hello, my beauties,” she murmured, as she held out her hand to them to snuffle. Giggling at the tickling sensation, as they searched her hand for food, she leaned forward to reach behind one of the horse’s ears for a scratch with her free hand. “Yes, you glutton. I brought you a treat. Snuck it out of my mum’s kitchen, although I think she knows what I’m doing.”
She continued to talk with the horses. “Mum knows I was never a fan of apples, unless she baked something with ’em. Now I’ve been taking a few apples a day for you two.” She giggled as one of them gave a little whinny of delight, as though he understood her words. “Aye, you’re as smart as Dunmore said you were.”
Extracting apples from her pockets, she held one in each hand, so each horse could gobble it down at the same time. “There, my beauties,” she said, affection in her voice. “I only wish you’d been with him. You would never have failed him, as that other team did. You’d have kept him safe, wouldn’t you?”
She knew she was irrational, as this team of horses would only have seen him as far as Twenty-Eight Mile Springs, but she searched for something that could have prevented the horrible accident. Although she was coming to accept that it was an accident, with no one to blame, she had difficulty reconciling her mounting fear that she would never see Dunmore again. With an acute clarity, she understood the torment her mother and father had suffered, with their abrupt separation after Maggie had been born.
When one of the horses arched its head farther out of the stall, she rested her face against its strong neck, burying her tears in its mane. “You miss him too, don’t you?” she whispered in a broken voice. “He has to come back, doesn’t he? He’s alive, isn’t he?” She clung to the horse, as images of Dunmore overwhelmed her. She couldn’t imagine never seeing him again. Never holding him in her arms again. Never smiling at him again, as he winked at her and stared at her with pride.
The horse made another whinnying noise and raised its head, pushing Maggie away, as the horse backed up a step and stomped its foot. Maggie frowned, as Dunmore had always told her that it was this horse’s way of giving a warning or a welcome. She looked over her shoulder, stilling when she saw a man lurking in the shadows. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The man remained silent and in the shadows, nothing but his lower legs visible. Although she couldn’t see his face, she had the sense he stared at her.
Maggie suddenly wished she hadn’t ignored her father’s request that she always have a brother with her. “I’m an O’Rourke. You have no desire to anger my family.”
The man remained in shadow, although he moved incrementally closer to her. Maggie peered at him, able to make out a few details. His clothes were dirt covered and appeared near to tatters. Whatever color they had once been had long faded. He moved again, causing his long coat to swirl around him, like a cape.
That triggered a memory, and she took an involuntary step toward him. “Dunmore?” she whispered, her voice cracking, as she said his name. When the man stood stock-still, her tears leaked out. “Oh, why must you haunt me? Must you never be anything more than a ghost?” she cried out.
“Maggie.” He stepped toward her, gasping in pain, as he fell forward.
“Dunmore!” she screamed, leaping forward to hold him, falling to the ground with him in a tangle of skirts. “Oh, my precious man, you’re alive. You’ve come back to me.” She wrapped her arms around him, as he held on to her, burying his face in her neck, as he shuddered.
Pulling her even tighter to him, he shook. “You believed,” he rasped. “You never gave up hope.”
She cried against his shirt, as she peppered his chest and skin with kisses. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “I kept thinking about how Mum and Da found each other again.” She pushed back, looking into his gaze, thankful they were lying in a ray of sunshine, so she could see him fully. “You never felt dead here.” She released him for a moment to press a hand to her heart. “I couldn’t give up hope, even though the townsfolk have begun to whisper that I’m a madwoman.”
Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six Page 6