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

by Flightner, Ramona

  She collapsed to the ground, as her legs were asleep, and she battled mortification at the chuckling she heard. When her arms and legs were freed from their bindings, she groaned in relief, massaging her hands, as the agony of the blood rushing back caused pin-pricking sensations. Too soon, she was hauled up to her feet again, and she stood with shaking legs. Pulling the hood off her head with her freed hands, she stared around her.

  Two men were present with two horses and a pair of mules. “Who are you?” she asked, as she stared at the unknown men. They were of medium height, with muddy brown hair and otherwise unremarkable features.

  “Don’t you wish you knew?” said one of the men, as he leered at her. “You’re far prettier than he said you was.” He spat out a brown splat of chewing tobacco and spit, his hands on his belt, as he swaggered a little, as though to show off his virility.

  Maggie stared at him in abject disgust but remained quiet. She glanced into the wagon bed, blanching when she saw another body inside, a small pool of blood on the back of the hood. “You must allow me to help her,” she gasped.

  “No,” Jacques said, appearing at her side, his hold on her tightening. “She’ll be fine. A blow to the head never hurt a woman.” His feral smile sent a shiver down her spine. “As your chère maman knows very well.”

  Maggie froze at the mention of the abuse her mother had suffered at Jacques’s hands.

  “Come, enough dawdling,” he muttered, his accent more pronounced with his agitation. He hauled her to the horses and tossed her into a saddle. Once she was on the saddle, he tied her hands to the pommel and took the reins, tying them to his horse’s saddle. The loaded mules were tied to her horse, as though they were in a pack train. He turned to the two men, who had hopped up onto the wagon. “Get going.”

  They nodded, and the wagon trundled away. Rather than follow the road, Jacques led her horse out into the open prairie, on a barely perceptible trail. She stared at the sagebrush and the tall grass and knew no one in her family would find her. That soon she would be lost to the wilds of Montana and that she would be completely at Jacques’s mercy. She only wished he had any.

  * * *

  The large group of O’Rourke men rode to the top of the bluffs and stared up and down the Mullan Road. To the east, they would head to Cow Island and any of the steamboats unable to travel all the way to Fort Benton so late in the season. To the west and south, the road headed to the interior of the Territory and the gold-rich towns.

  “Let’s split up,” Ardan said. At Seamus’s quick nod, Seamus, Cormac, and A.J. headed toward Cow Island. Ardan, Declan, and Kevin rode in the direction of Helena and Virginia City. “We’ll find her Dec. Don’t worry,” Ardan murmured, as they began to trot. They didn’t want to ride too hard, as they knew they needed to make it to Twenty-Eight Mile Springs for the hope of fresh horses and a rest. Soon they’d have to slow their horses to a walk.

  They each carried a rifle and a pistol, and Ardan was thankful that, although Da didn’t like weapons in the house, he understood it was important to stock and to sell them in his store. Thus, they’d had no trouble procuring guns and ammunition to bring with them.

  Kevin was mainly quiet, although he stared around them with an alert attentiveness, as though searching for a stealth attack. He had taken the lead, as he had a gaze as sharp as an eagle’s. As they rounded a turn in the road, he signaled them to halt.

  “What is it, Kev?” Ardan whispered.

  Kevin looked over his shoulder at them. “A wagon’s not too far ahead of us. Could be nothin’.” He nodded, as they stiffened and tensed at his words. “But it does seem a bit of a coincidence.” He shared a look with his brothers, and they began to ride again, this time at a slightly quicker pace.

  As they approached the wagon, they shared glances at the fact the back was covered in burlap. When Kevin shrugged, Declan let out a sigh of frustration, as they had no proof that his wife and his sister were in the back.

  “Gentlemen,” Ardan said in a deferential manner, as one man looked over his shoulder at the brothers. Kevin had come up the other side of the wagon, while Declan remained watchful of the wagon bed.

  “Whatcha want?” asked one of the men, sitting at the head of the wagon.

  “Well, no need to be inhospitable,” Ardan said, “not after I know you enjoyed my wife’s cookin’ so much this mornin’.” Ardan stared hard at the man who held a rifle propped against his hip. “I was hopin’ to talk with you about your cargo.”

  “We ain’t got no cargo,” he spat out.

  “You don’t?” Ardan asked, as he rubbed at his head, tilting his head back ever-so-subtly. “Now that seems an odd thing to cover the back of your wagon, when you’ve nothin’ inside.”

  “Leave off, Irishman,” the other man snapped. “If you know what’s good for you.”

  Ardan shared a look with his brothers, giving a subtle nod. “Well, I’ve never been good at knowin’ what’s good for me.” He and Kevin rode up to the front of the wagon, pulling out their pistols with lightning-quick speed and cocking them, as they held them at the heads of each man. “Stop. Now.”

  When the wagon slowed to a halt, Declan jumped down and yanked the cover off the wagon. He groaned when he saw the inanimate form underneath, crawling toward it. Tugging the cover off the prostrate person’s head, he swore when he saw his beloved wife, unconscious and bleeding. “Lo!” he gasped. He pulled at the bindings, freeing her, as he hauled her into his arms. “Lo, love,” he gasped. “Talk to me. Tell me you’re all right.”

  She flopped around like a rag doll, unconscious. When her head moved too quickly, she moaned.

  “Oh, my love, what did they do to you?” he whispered. He raised a murderous gaze to the men sitting in the front of the wagon. “You’re dead men,” he rasped. “You dared to hurt my wife.”

  “Wife?” One of the men gasped, as he stared at the woman in his arms. “We was told she was a trollop.”

  “Trollop?” Declan roared, his hold on Lorena tightening. “Ardan?” he whispered.

  “Nay,” he murmured. “I won’t kill ’em. I can’t. Not like this. But you two are comin’ back to Fort Benton, and you will have your reckoning with the sheriff. Now what did you do with my sister?” Ardan scowled at them as they acted as though they had been rendered mute.

  Declan watched, as his brothers disarmed the men, while Declan sat in the back of the wagon, cradling Lorena in his lap. “Come, my love,” he crooned. “Talk to me. Tell me you’re all right.” He swiped a hand over her head, pulling out his clean handkerchief to staunch the oozing blood at the back of her head.

  When the two men refused to talk, their gazes filled with terror and claiming they weren’t snitches, Declan watched as his brothers tied them up on the horses, before tying the horses to the back of the wagon. Ardan and Kevin hopped up front in the wagon and ably turned it around. “Da will want to speak with them. They’re more useful alive than dead,” Kevin said.

  “For now,” Ardan growled as he looked at the two men who had dared to steal their sister-in-law.

  Declan only half listened to his brothers as he focused on his wife. “Lorena, my love, we’re returning to Fort Benton. To our home and our family. You’ll be in our bed soon, with me cuddlin’ you in my arms. Wee Gavin will be lookin’ for your hugs and kisses.”

  He continued to talk with her during the long ride home, begging and pleading for her to awaken, his despair mounting, as she remained unconscious.

  * * *

  Maggie rode, without saying anything. She knew there was no point to her calling out, as no one within miles would hear her, and she would only earn retribution from Jacques. As she rode behind him, she studied him. Although he gave the appearance of being at ease, she noted he was attentive to their surroundings. She had no idea where they were going nor how he knew where they were. However, he seemed at ease and confident in the path they took.

  In the time he’d been away, the years had taken their toll on him.
He was not as fit as he’d been, with a growing paunch. The lines around his mouth and eyes were more pronounced, and the furrows in between his brows appeared to be permanent crevices. She knew none of these were due to laughter or joy, as his favorite expression was a glower.

  His shoulders were as broad and as sinewed with muscle as before, and she knew he would be as strong as ever. Although she wished he’d been afflicted with a wasting disease, she knew that he’d maintained his physical strength. Battling the overwhelming dread as she thought too long about what would occur when they stopped for the evening, she focused on her surroundings. She had to remain attentive.

  Unfortunately nothing was remarkable about the land around them. They traversed a dry riverbed and continued on over miles of open prairie with tall grass swaying in the breeze. No mountains were in the distance. No landmarks for her to remember.

  She let out a frustrated sigh. She knew, if she were fortunate enough to escape, she’d never find her way back to the dried-out riverbed. She knew it must lead to the Missouri, but, with her luck, she feared she’d walk in a circle and would expire from thirst and heat.

  She hunched over, wishing for a bonnet or a hat, as the unrelenting Montana summer sun beamed down on them. Maggie admitted to herself that she’d rather suffer the heat and the discomfort of this hot day than what was to come as the sun set. As she contemplated what might await her at day’s end, she was determined to remain strong. To fight off Jacques. She battled a sob as she thought of Dunmore and their recent reunion. She must do as he did for her- fight and survive so she could return to him.

  With a shiver, she continued to peer around, hoping to find something that would help guide her home.

  * * *

  Seamus rode in silence with Cormac and A.J. behind him. His gaze scanned the prairie around him, knowing Jacques was more experienced in traveling these unmarked areas, and he knew there were too many places for a man as experienced as Jacques to hide. Deep coulees would allow a man to hide, if he so chose. With a sigh, Seamus continued to search for any sign of his daughter or Lorena.

  As anxious as Seamus was about Maggie and Lorena, he knew Declan must be mad with worry. He only hoped Declan would keep his cool, if he caught the men who took his wife. His scholarly son would have a hard time overcoming killing anyone.

  When they were a few miles past the junction of the Marias and Missouri Rivers, Seamus slowed his horse.

  “What is it?” Cormac asked.

  “Someone’s coming,” Seamus murmured.

  Cormac pulled out his rifle, leaving it propped on his leg, as he maneuvered his horse to the side of the road. As the stagecoach barreled toward them, he motioned with the rifle for it to stop. “Bailey!” he called out, and the man slowed his team and halted a short distance away.

  “Never expected the three of you to play bandit,” Bailey muttered, as he stared down at them.

  Seamus growled at the man. “Why in God’s name would I need to rob an empty coach?” He faced the stagecoach driver, who was busier than ever with Dunmore’s injury. “Have you passed anyone on the road today?”

  Bailey pushed his hat back and stared at them in confusion. “You’re the first I’ve seen since Cow Island. Was you expectin’ someone?” He looked at the three of them and their murderous expressions. “Is everythin’ all right back in town?”

  Seamus sighed and swore, as he shifted in his saddle. “Someone kidnapped my Maggie an’ stole Declan’s Lorena.”

  Bailey’s eyes bulged. “They have death wishes?” He shook his head, as he whistled. “Whoowee, I wouldn’t want an O’Rourke bent on revenge after me, never mind a dozen or more of you.” He wiped at his head. “As the Savior is my Maker, I ain’t seen no one on that stretch of road. If you’re lookin’ for him, he probably went wild.” He pointed to the prairie land, heading north.

  Seamus swore, as he stared at the open expanse of land that would be ideal for a trapper like Jacques but impossible for Seamus. “Aye,” he muttered, “’tis what I fear.”

  “Well, I got to return to Benton and pick up another load of men wishin’ to leave. But I’ll keep a look out as I drive my route.” He nodded at the men and turned his horses loose, trundling away.

  Cormac shifted and stared at Seamus. “What do you want to do?” His long hair was tied back, and his well-worn hat covered his head and concealed his gaze.

  “I ain’t no trapper, sonny,” A.J. said to Seamus, as he stared at the open prairie with a sigh. “If Seamus and I head out there, they’ll need to send a search party out to find us, as well as Miss Maggie.” A.J. cast a knowing glance at Cormac.

  Cormac spoke up. “Let’s head back and see if the others have returned. We’ll have a better idea of where to search, but my guess is he headed north over the prairie with her.” He paused to look at Seamus. “I’m more familiar with that area than you two and I have a bit of experience with tracking.”

  Seamus swore, took off his hat, and ran a hand over his head.

  “Seamus, it’ll be all right. I’ll follow the rivers. They need water on the run.”

  “But Niamh …”

  “She’s not due for months. I know Mary will help her with the children in my absence. I’ll return when I can to check in.” He paused and stared at the prairie grass swaying in the breeze. “I’ll miss Niamh and our babes, but I know Niamh would want me to search for Maggie, just like I searched for Dunmore.” Cormac took a long look northward. “I’ll explain it to her tonight. You know she’ll agree.”

  Seamus growled, angry that he could not do more, but then he sighed. “Aye, you’re right.” He shared a long look with A.J., relaxing when he saw agreement in his friend’s gaze. “We’ll head home. See if the lads found them.” He turned his horse toward Fort Benton, as an impotent rage filled him that he had not found Jacques. That he had not been the one to tear him limb from limb. That he was not holding Maggie in his arms right now. He prayed, as they trotted toward home, that Maggie would be at the table, no worse for wear from her misadventure, having been saved by her brothers.

  * * *

  Kevin burst into his parents’ house, his gaze searching the room, filled with most of his family. “Da?” he asked. When his mum shook her head, he nodded. “Declan’s comin’. Lorena’s injured.”

  Mary and Niamh gasped, rising immediately. “Bring her upstairs to Maggie’s room. An extra bed is there.” The two women rushed away, as Aileen and Deirdre put water on to boil and cut cloths into strips.

  Kevin approached his wife, pulling her close. “Let me hold you a moment, love,” he whispered. When he shuddered, he felt her arms tighten around him. Leaning away, he ran a finger down her cheek, and backed away just as Declan entered with Ardan on his heels, holding an unconscious Lorena in his arms.

  “Upstairs,” Deirdre said. “Your mum and Niamh are there, preparing Maggie’s room.” She looked to Ardan. “Escort me. I have to find Nora. We’ll need her help, as we don’t have Maggie right now.” She pulled off her apron and left the kitchen, her husband beside her.

  Kevin stood in the middle of the kitchen, a nervous energy running through him. Now that they were back, he suddenly felt like he had nothing to do for his family. When Declan reentered the kitchen, looking haunted and broken, he reached for his brother, pulling him into his arms. “She’ll recover, Dec. She’s tough.”

  Looking as though he had been gut shot, Declan swayed in place. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her. I’ve had so little time with her.” He stared at Kevin in agony. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Kevin tilted his head and slung an arm over Declan’s shoulder, urging him to the table and to sit. “That’s better contemplated on another day.”

  Declan froze, staring at his older brother. “Her uncle. He has to be involved somehow.”

  “Aye,” Kevin said, nodding his thanks as Aileen set a pot of tea in front of them. After pouring a cup for Declan, he fixed one for himself. “An’ I’m sure word has reached him tha
t his plan has been thwarted.” He looked to Niall and Lucien. “Go to the stables. Ensure it is well known that no one is to offer Chaffee a ride out of town.”

  Niall and Lucien nodded, striding for the door.

  At the last moment, Kevin called out, “Niall?” When his brother spun to face him, Kevin studied him for a long moment. “I thought you were to walk Maggie to the bookstore today. What happened?”

  Flushing, Niall’s gaze skirted to his brothers and then back to Kevin. He was about sixteen years older and close to a father figure for Niall. “I … I was distracted,” he stammered. “It’s all my fault.”

  Declan rose, pushing his chair back, as he stalked toward his brother. His blue eyes shone with rage. “Distracted? From the one duty you should have felt privileged to carry out?” He fisted his hands, as his cheeks reddened.

  “Dec, no,” Kevin said, as he placed a hand on Declan’s shoulder.

  “If he’d done what he should have, then none of this would have happened,” Declan hissed.

  “We don’t know that,” Kevin reasoned, although his gaze shone with grave disappointment, as he looked at his younger brother. “Go. Ensure Chaffee doesn’t slip away.” When his younger brothers were gone, Kevin squeezed Declan’s shoulder. “Dec? Your anger isn’t for Niall. He’s young and made a mistake.”

  Declan let out a deep breath, his chest shuddering. “Aye. ’Tis for the bastards who hurt Lorena. For Jacques, for darin’ to steal away Maggie. Niall’s just a lad.”

  “Aye, a good lad who made a mistake.” He smiled at his brother, although it was tinged with sadness. “Although I wish he’d chosen another day to be absentminded.”