* * *
Seamus stood, staring at the road leading into town, as the sun slipped behind the bluffs. Another day had passed with no word about his Maggie. Another day his family wasn’t whole. Another day of anguish as he agonized over his wee Maggie, and all she might be suffering. He closed his eyes, as he attempted to banish his worst fears, but he knew what a man like Jacques could do to his sweet daughter. With a deep breath, he attempted to release his anger and rage, so that he could return to Mary and be the supportive husband she needed. Inside, he wanted to rip someone, anyone, limb from limb.
“Seamus,” Dunmore said in a low voice. He leaned on a cane, although within another week or two, he would walk without aid. “Seamus, come home.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he rasped. “I’ve every right to enjoy the sunset.”
Dunmore let out a huff of air, as he shook his head in exasperation. “Is that what you’re calling it now? You’re a naturalist and desire time out of doors?” He took a quick step back, dodging Seamus’s lethal punch. Hissing in pain, as he put too much pressure on his still-healing leg, Dunmore shook his head in warning at Seamus. “Don’t try that again. I won’t fight fair.”
“Nor would I,” Seamus snapped.
Letting out a deep breath, Dunmore stayed out of range of another fist Seamus might throw his way and shook his head wearily. “She’s not coming back tonight.”
Spinning to face the younger man, he was red faced and filled with rage. “Don’t be givin’ up hope, lad.”
“I’m not,” Dunmore murmured. “I know she’ll return.” He held a hand to his chest. “I know it, Seamus.” His gaze glowed with despair, mixed with terror. “But how will she be? What will he have done to her?” He let out a shaky breath. “My beautiful sweet Maggie at the mercy of such a man. I failed her.”
“You failed her?” Seamus asked, taking a step toward Dunmore to study him better, as though he were a foreign object. “How could you ever believe that? For the past three years, you’ve wandered all over this territory, listening for rumors and searching out information about Jacques. You’ve done everything in your power to keep her safe.”
“Ah, but in the end, it’s because of me that he was successful kidnapping her. Because I was bored and needed another book.” Dunmore hit his hand against his injured leg. “Because I was injured and unable to be the man she needed.”
Seamus swore and strode away, kicking at a rock and then hitting the side of a shed with his open palm, before striding back to Dunmore. “Nay, lad, you brought Maggie back from the shadowlands, where she was willin’ to commune with ghosts and spirits, if it meant she could have a few more moments with you.” He gripped Dunmore’s shoulder. “We have to accept we failed her and hope she can forgive us.”
“Why do you need forgiving?” Dunmore asked, taking comfort from Seamus’s grief and rage. It soothed Dunmore to know that another was nearly as out of his mind with worry as he was, although he knew all the O’Rourkes suffered as he did.
“I am not a trapper. I can’t ride out into the prairie with any hope of finding her, and I don’t know of anyone else besides Cormac who could help. I’ve sent word with everyone leavin’ town, with promise of a reward for any news of her whereabouts, but I’ve heard nothing.” He shook his head with impotent rage. “Mary says I must learn to find peace that I can’t put everything to rights.”
Dunmore made a sound of consolation, as though he understood Seamus’s plight, even if Mary might not. “That’s a damn hard thing for a man to admit.”
Seamus nodded. “Aye.” He let out a deep breath. “I need you to forgive me too, Dunmore.”
Dunmore cocked his head and stared at the older man who he admired. “Why? What more have you done?”
Seamus let out a mirthless chuckle. “Nothin’ more than the mischief I wrought this spring, separatin’ you and Maggie. I never should have extracted that promise from you. Forgive me.”
Shrugging, Dunmore stared out at their surroundings. “I forgave you the moment I woke up, with Maggie staring at me with devotion and hope. I knew then that you’d explained your part in the disaster.” He rubbed at his leg. “I would have been away just as long. I would have gone to that small mining town. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to try to keep her safe.”
The older man stilled. “You wouldn’t have returned earlier?”
Shaking his head, Dunmore said, “No. I was always plannin’ on returnin’, after I went to that town. And I intended to tell Maggie the truth upon my arrival. I wouldn’t allow anything to keep us apart. And I refused to allow her to believe I was fickle in my love for her.”
Seamus slapped him on his shoulder. “Thank you, Dunmore. For your constancy.”
Smiling, Dunmore shook his head. “I’ve no need of your thanks. I never thought to find a woman like Maggie, and I’m not fool enough to ever let her go.”
Chapter 9
Maggie crawled to the road, uncertain if she would have the energy to stand to wave at a passing horse or stage. She ran a hand over her tattered slip and brushed at her ratty hair. At this point, she didn’t care what she looked like. She was desperate for food and to return to her family. To feel her mum’s warm embrace. To hear her da call her “Maggie, darlin’.” To see Dunmore and the special gleam in his gaze that was solely for her.
She stumbled forward, falling to her knees. Dunmore. He was her goal. No matter how much it hurt, she would do whatever to return to him. She let herself imagine being in his arms again. Imagine that he still wanted her, no matter what had happened to her. She tried to push herself up, but she had such little energy after not eating for days.
Every sound behind her made her jump and filled her with terror that Jacques was tracking her, but she knew she must attempt to find a way back to Fort Benton that didn’t call for her to walk there. She feared she wouldn’t survive that.
She pushed again, finally gaining her feet, as she heard a rumble. Hoping it was a stage, she tried to call out but instead waved her arms around. As the stagecoach rounded the corner, she toppled to the side to avoid being run over. Crying in misery, as the stage continued barreling down the road, she curled in a ball, as she had missed her chance to find a ride to Fort Benton. Would she die here, alone, under the hot Montana sun, clinging to her dreams of home and Dunmore?
When gentle hands gripped her shoulders, she shrieked and attempted to sit up.
“Glory be and praise all the saints,” Bailey sputtered, as he crossed himself. “I thought you was a ghost, and you near scared my horses to death. They’ll need extra oats to overcome their fright.”
“Mr. Bailey,” Maggie gasped. “Please help me. Please.”
He heaved her up, wrapping an arm around her, wincing when she groaned as he touched her. “Of course, Miss Maggie. I heard all about you bein’ kidnapped right out from under your pa’s nose. That ain’t right, no matter what that puffed-up buffoon Chaffee would say.” He walked slowly, as she had little strength left. “Come, Miss Maggie. Let’s get you home.” He threw the stagecoach door open and hefted her inside. “Ain’t no one ridin’ back to Fort Benton this time of year, so the inside’s all yours. Rest up, girl.”
She gripped his arm, as he moved to leave her alone. “Food. Do you have any food or water?”
He scratched at his head and nodded. “I’ve a bit of jerky.” He patted her hand, prying it loose, leaving her alone in the back of the stage. A moment later, he’d returned with a packet of jerky wrapped in leather and a canteen. He set both next to her hip. “Don’t eat or drink too much or too fast, Miss Maggie. You could make yourself sick.” With a nod, he shut the door, and the stage rocked, as he boarded the front of it.
Maggie collapsed onto her side, her head resting on the tough leather seat, as the stagecoach hurtled into motion. She roused long enough to eat a few bites of jerky and take sips of water. She flitted in and out of consciousness, uncertain if this were another dream or if she were truly on her way hom
e. Sleeping in fits and starts, she woke, as the stagecoach slowed and began its descent into the town. Rather than head to the livery, Bailey stopped near the O’Rourke house and began bellowing for Seamus.
Peering over the top of the door, Maggie saw Bailey outside, acting like her guard. When he saw Seamus and her brothers approaching, he puffed out his chest. “I’ve something you might want to see, sir.” Opening the door with a flourish, he pointed inside.
Maggie stared at her father with a wide-eyed, hope-filled gaze. “Da? Are you real?” she whispered, as she hugged her arms to her chest, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “I … I …” Her eyes filled with tears, and she curled into herself.
“Maggie? Maggie, darlin’,” Seamus rasped, his shaking hand reaching out to caress her cheek. When she flinched, he stilled his motion. “Love, my darling girl, you’re safe. No one will hurt you.” He looked behind him and then to Maggie again. “Can I carry you inside, or do you prefer to walk?”
“I … Do you have a blanket, Da?” Maggie asked, as she blushed. “I’m indecently dressed.”
“Devil take how you’re dressed,” Seamus snapped. “You’re home and alive, and you’re whole. That’s all that matters.” He slowly reached for her, gently pulling her into his arms. “You’re home, my darlin’ girl.” He paused, held her close, as a tremor raced through her, and then a deep keening sob burst forth. “There, my darlin’,” he crooned. “You’re home. You’re safe.” He carefully swung her up and out of the carriage, nodding his thanks when Ardan slung a blanket over Maggie, and then carried her into the large family home.
Rather than head upstairs, he headed into the bedroom on the main floor and moved to set her on the sickbed. When she clung to him, he sat with her on his lap. “There’s my lovely girl. You’re safe. You’re home.”
“Seamus?” Mary called out from the living room. “What was the fuss about?” She poked her head into the room, shrieking, “Maggie!” as she saw her daughter in her husband’s arms. “Oh, my girl, my girl,” she cried, as she vaulted forward to wrap her arms around Maggie and Seamus, rocking to and fro, as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, our prayers have been answered. You’re home. You’re with us again.”
Soon Maggie had been eased from Seamus’s hold, Mary had been coaxed to let go of her, and Maggie was curled under a blanket on the bed.
“Maggie,” said a deep voice from the doorway.
She curled over into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. However, she opened her striking blue eyes and looked to the man in the doorway. Dunmore stood stock-still, his long hair tied back, with only a faint scar on his cheek to indicate his recent trauma. His blue-green eyes shone with a fierce intensity, as he stared at her. “Philip,” she whispered, her throat thickening with more tears.
He entered the room, his jaw clenched tight and his hands fisted. “You’re back, beloved. You’ll be well. I promise.” He slipped past Seamus and Mary, crouching down to kneel in front of Maggie, so he was eye level with her. “Whatever happened, I don’t care. You’re my Maggie, and I love you.”
A sob sputtered out, and she reached forward to clasp his hand. “I … I …” She shook her head, as sobs racked her body.
Dunmore eased onto the bed, pulling the blanket-wrapped Maggie into his arms, so she could cry on his chest. “Cry, my cherished girl. My beloved Maggie.” He kissed her ratty hair. “Cry and share your sorrows with me. I’ll never turn my back on them or you.”
Maggie pressed against him, holding on to him, as though he were her anchor in the storm.
* * *
Seamus guided Mary out of the room, giving Dunmore a little time alone with their daughter. “It’s all right, love. Give him time to comfort her, as I’d need to comfort you.” He pulled Mary close, wrapping his arms around her, as he shuddered.
Finally Mary whispered in his ear, “I don’t know if I have the strength to hear how she suffered, Shay.” She pressed her face against his chest, as though she could hide from her shameful admission.
Running his hands over her back, he kissed her head and clasped her to him. “Oh, my sweet lass, do you not know I feel the same? The thought of all she suffered, … I want to murder.”
Mary arched back to look at Seamus. “As do I.” Her hazel eyes filled with an unutterable devastation. “Due to me, she was exposed to such a man. What kind of mother am I?”
He cupped her cheeks, staring into her eyes with a passionate intensity. “The best mother our children could ever have been blessed to have.” He shook his head to dissuade her from arguing. “Don’t doubt, my Mary. You know how lost we were without you.” His sincere gaze was locked with hers. “You kept Maggie safe from starvation, when you married Francois. You suffered pain to protect her too. Never doubt yourself, my love.”
He kept an arm around her, as the back door burst open to reveal a breathless Niamh. “Is it true?” she gasped. “Wee Maggie’s home?” She looked at her parents with hope and fear. “Is she well?”
Mary walked to her eldest daughter and pulled her close. “She’s suffered,” she whispered, “but I don’t know the extent of it.” She released Niamh and swiped a hand down her soft cheek. “I …” She closed her eyes in resignation. “I don’t have the strength, Niamh, to know what he did.”
Niamh pushed back and gaped at her mother. “You do, Mum. I know you do.” She firmed her shoulders. “We’ll be there and love and support her, no matter what she endured.” Her gaze was filled with sorrow. “Oh, Mum,” she whispered, as she fell forward to hug her mother again.
Mary held her close, finding comfort in comforting her daughter.
Soon most of the family had arrived, and the kitchen was crowded. Ardan entered with baskets of food, proclaiming that he and Deirdre had shut down the café for the evening and had brought the café food to them.
“Ardan, you can’t continue to shut down your café,” Mary chided in a soft voice, although her gaze glowed with relief and approval at the gesture.
“I know, Mum,” Ardan said, as he kissed her forehead and squeezed her arm, after setting down the bread, cakes, and meat pies. “Deirdre was insistent, and she wants to be here to help Maggie too. Too often she feels isolated from the family.” He sobered even further. “Tonight is a night we all need to be together.”
Mary nodded, clasping his hand. “Aye, you’re right of course. Thank you, my Ardan. I don’t know how I would have had the energy to cook tonight.”
“Ah, Deirdre was smart and kind enough to know she was savin’ us from one of the lads’ cookin’.” He winked at Mum, his smile tinged with relief to see a momentary hint of humor in her gaze. It faded, as she glanced toward the closed sickroom door, where Dunmore remained with Maggie. “Don’t fret, Mum. He’s a good man.”
“I should be soothin’ my daughter,” Mary whispered. “I should be holdin’ her in my arms and givin’ thanks she’s alive.”
Seamus had approached and heard her low passionate words. “Aye, an’ you will, love. Dunmore’s earned the right to comfort our Maggie too. Imagine if it were you, love. You’d want me, even if your mum were here.”
Mary raised mournful eyes to meet her husband’s sincere gaze. “Aye. Now I understand all too well why you wanted another year, Shay.”
He sighed and smiled tenderly at her. “Perhaps, but we won’t be gettin’ it.” Pulling her close, he kissed her on her forehead, forcing a patience he didn’t feel, until he could see his daughter again.
* * *
Dunmore rested with Maggie in his arms, feeling like he had heaven within reach. Finally. Breathing deeply, he buried his nose in the soft skin between her ear and neck, stilling when she squirmed around and attempted to move away from him. “Shh, beloved,” he murmured, moving so he was only holding her in his arms with his head beside hers. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she repeated in a mortified whisper. “How can you bear being near me? I stink, and it’ll take God knows how many washes to clean me.�
� Her voice broke.
Turning with the utmost care, so she rolled to her side, Dunmore leaned on one elbow and stroked his free hand down her face. “You’re worried because you think you smell?” He leaned forward and sniffed deeply. “You smell like paradise.”
Pushing up on his shoulder with a grunt, she battled tears. “Don’t mock me.”
His blue-green eyes glinting with sincerity, he shook his head. “I’m not. You smell like a woman in need of a bath, aye, but you’re alive, Maggie. You’re here, in my arms, warm and breathin’ and alive.”
Her gaze locked with his, she rested on her side, still as a stone, mesmerized by what she saw in his expression. “Philip,” she breathed.
“I need you to forgive me, my Maggie,” he rasped.
“Forgive you?” she repeated, her brows furrowing with her confusion.
His fingers continued to caress the silky skin of her face, and he nodded, his gaze gleaming with his sincerity. “Aye. Forgive me for failing you. If I hadn’t been so weak, I would have found a way to track him. I would have found you, and you never would have suffered.” His gaze now glowed with the deepest pain. “I failed you, and I’m so sorry.”
“Philip,” she gasped, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She shook her head and closed her eyes a moment. “I hoped …” She paused and shook her head again. “I knew here”—she held a hand to her heart—“that no matter what happened to me, you’d still want me. You’d never cast me aside.”
“No, love. You knew I’d love you. Love you for the precious woman you are.” He waited until she nodded her head in agreement. “I’ll love you forever, my Maggie.”
Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six Page 12