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

by Flightner, Ramona

  Niall swiped at his cheeks. “You don’t hate me?”

  Maggie shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me, Niall. He did. He abused me. Don’t take on his sins, for they are his alone.” She waited until her brother gave a jerk of his head and rose. After she heard him slip from her room, she waited a moment before calling out softly, “Why are you hiding in the shadows?”

  A soft chuckle was her answer, and then Dunmore entered her room on silent feet. “How did you know I was there?”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I can smell you.” She opened her eyes and met his tormented gaze. “I wished for you.”

  “Maggie,” he breathed, as he collapsed onto the chair beside her, his hand gently stroking her head. “I heard you call out. I’m sorry I was so slow to arrive. I was asleep on the couch.” His gaze bore into hers, as though through sheer force of will he could ease her of her painful memories.

  “I’m not,” she said, reaching forward to grab his hand. “It gave me time with Niall. And now you can hold me in your arms, as I try to sleep again.”

  Dunmore stared at her, unmoving, as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her palm, silently tracing cuts and bruises from her ordeal.

  “Unless you find the idea revolting,” Maggie stammered, as the silence between them became pronounced.

  He smiled, his gaze filled with a deep tenderness. “No, beloved,” he said in a soft voice. “I feared you’d not want me by you again.” He crawled over her, fitting himself behind her, as he pulled her back into his front, his arm wrapping around her middle. “Ah, heaven,” he breathed. “You smell so sweet.” He buried his head in her neck, inhaling deeply.

  “It’s from the lavender bath,” she whispered, gasping in pain, when he pressed against a bruise on her back. “I’m covered in bruises, Philip. I didn’t feel them so much before because I was so excited to be home. Now, … now all I seem to feel is pain.”

  “Forgive me,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss the top of her shoulders and her upper back. His hold on her gentled even further. “Do you want more willow bark tea?”

  “No, just hold me.”

  “You’re home. You’re safe. Sleep, beloved.”

  Maggie relaxed into his embrace, trusting in Dunmore, as she fell into a restful sleep.

  * * *

  A few weeks later in early September, Maggie walked from her parents’ house with her younger brothers chattering around her. Although they weren’t tall and strong like Ardan, Kevin, or Declan, she knew the sheer number of them would protect her. Besides, she’d seen them scrapple in the backyard, and she knew they were tough and tenacious. They’d keep her safe.

  She bristled at the sensation that she was in danger. However, she jolted at every unexpected sound, then fought a whimper when men stared at her with just a bit too much interest. Thankfully her younger brothers, Henri, Oran, and Bryan appeared oblivious to her distress. As they neared the bookstore, she fought a desire to race inside. Instead she kept her pace even and slow.

  Dunmore had been out of town for days, and she hadn’t realized how out of sorts and vulnerable she would feel without him. Although his leg wasn’t fully healed, he had insisted on working again, as the busy season was about to end. She missed the reassurance of seeing the patient concern in his gaze every evening. Of feeling his hand brush against her back or over her hand, subtle acts of affection that nearly brought her to tears. Even though she knew he would be gone only a short while, a deep fear had taken root that something would happen to him and that he’d never return.

  As they entered the bookstore, her brothers raced away to find Declan, eager for one of his stories. They never realized that Declan, in his subtle way, was teaching them. Maggie stilled, as she saw no one tending the front of the store. “What do you think you’re doing?” she blurted out to the woman, attempting to stuff a book into her pocket.

  “Why must you always meddle?” Janet Davies snapped. Although she was Aileen’s aunt, she had never been accepted into the O’Rourke family due to her mistreatment of her niece. Miserly with her love, affection, and compassion, she thrived on discord and provoking pain. It was also rumored that she was currently without a benefactor, as Uriah Chaffee had gone missing after the kidnapping of Lorena. Placing a hand on her hip, Janet Davies attempted to affect a superior stance, although her gaze gleamed with shame.

  “I’ll meddle whenever I see a family member being robbed blind,” Maggie snapped, holding her hand out for the book. She wiggled her fingers, waiting until Janet slapped it into her palm.

  “It’s not as though the O’Rourkes don’t have enough money already.” The older woman glared at Maggie. “If you’d just stayed gone, if you’d done what any decent woman would have done, remained with the man who ruined you, then I would still have my Uriah. This calamity would not have befallen me.”

  Maggie stood dumbstruck in front of her, her vision filled with horrifying images of what it would have meant to remain with Jacques. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she finally gasped. Focusing on Janet and pushing aside the terror she lived with, Maggie blurted out, “You’ve brought your own misery upon you.”

  Shrieking, Janet rushed toward Maggie with a hand raised to hit her. However, her hand never landed on Maggie’s cheek, as Maggie grasped Janet’s wrist and shook her head. “Never believe you have the right to strike me,” Maggie said in a low voice.

  “You’re impertinent and don’t know how to bestow the respect due your elders.”

  “Respect is given when it is earned. That’s what my mum and da taught me.” Maggie paused. “You lost any chance of earning our respect or of being a part of our family when you treated Aileen so terribly. When you tried to force her to marry a man she didn’t love. When you remained here, making her father want to move, because he couldn’t abide being anywhere near you.”

  “You insolent hussy,” Janet hissed, as she took a step toward Maggie. “You will come to realize that you are the worthless member of the O’Rourke family. Unwed. Unchaste. Tainted goods. So afraid of her own shadow she can’t go anywhere in town unless she has an escort.” Janet made a derisive tsking sound. “The Bordello is too good a place for you. I wonder if Mr. Bell would even consider you acceptable as a Temptress.”

  Maggie paled at Janet’s words, unable to hide her reaction to the woman’s spiteful proclamations. “My family will never throw me out.”

  “Oh, they will. For you are a burden. And burdens become unbearable after a while.” She smiled meekly as Aileen bustled in. “Thank you for our scintillating conversation.” With a glare in her niece’s direction, she walked out.

  Maggie blindly walked to the counter, setting the book on top of it. “She was attempting to steal a book.”

  Aileen sighed. “You should have searched her petticoats too. I’m sure she had a few stuffed up there. I should have locked the door when I had to run to the privy.” She flushed with indignation and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Maggie. Ignore whatever she said. She wouldn’t know the truth if struck by lightning.”

  Forcing a weak smile, Maggie nodded and looked at Aileen. “How are you?”

  “Much as I’ve always been.” She fidgeted under Maggie’s stare. “Nothing’s changed. I get my courses, every month like clockwork.”

  “You’re not a failure, Aileen,” Maggie murmured.

  “Tell that to my aunt,” she said, as she battled tears. “Aunt Janet believes Kevin will tire of a wife who can’t complete the most basic of wifely duties. And that no one would ever blame him. That I’m the failure.”

  Maggie gripped her wrist and shook her head. “No, Aileen, no.” She paused as she took a deep breath. “Your aunt excels at exposing our worst fears and making them easy to believe with constant repetition. You know Kevin loves you and would never want another. You know it.”

  Aileen nodded, staring soberly at Maggie. “Just as you know your family, none of us, will ever consider you a burden.” She met Maggie’s embarrasse
d gaze with a terse nod. “I heard the last bit of your conversation. If I’m to discredit her, so are you.”

  Maggie sighed and ducked her head. “’Tis easier to give advice than to take it.” She looked at Aileen. “And not to believe your deepest fears.”

  Aileen made a soothing sound, rushing around the counter to hold Maggie close. “All will be well. Give yourself time. You managed to leave the house today,” Aileen soothed. “It’s such a misfortune you had to see Aunt Davies on your first foray from the house.”

  Maggie rested her head on Aileen’s shoulder, taking comfort from a woman she considered her sister. “Aye. I fear I’ve run out of good luck.”

  * * *

  Maggie stood at the back door of her parents’ house, staring at the open space and the bluffs in the distance. She shivered, as she recalled jostling up and down the road to those bluffs. Both times she had been unable to take in the passing scenery. She shivered once more, realizing she never wanted to ascend that road again. Looking around the kitchen, she understood that meant she would never leave Fort Benton. She’d be a prisoner here.

  Her breathing hastening, she considered such a small life. Until she had been forced away with Jacques, she had never contemplated how constricted her life was, living with her parents and working with her mum. Now that Dunmore had again left to continue ferrying men around the Territory, she realized she would never be a full part of his life. She’d never go on adventures with him.

  For, if she did, she’d be vulnerable again. Jacques could find her again. And, the next time, she might not escape.

  She moved away from the door and sat at the table, her gaze unfocused, as she admitted to herself that, although she loved Dunmore, he deserved better than being burdened with a woman like her. A woman afraid of her own shadow. The thought of giving him up felt like she was tearing out her own heart, but she knew it was the only fair thing to do. She would never want to bind him to a woman like her. A coward. A woman unable to dream. A woman terrified of intimacy.

  * * *

  A few days later, A.J. poked his head into the kitchen, just as they were about to start supper. “I know I’m interruptin’, but I was hopin’ there’d be space for one more.” He grinned impishly, as he knew the O’Rourkes would always find space for him at their table.

  After the hearty yells of welcome, he settled near Seamus, with Maggie to one side of him. “I’m to depart tomorrow mornin’, and I’m uncertain I’ll be back next year. I have to discuss things with my Bessie.”

  Seamus sighed and shared a long look with the captain, who had become family to them all. “If you decide to remain closer to your wife, we’ll understand. Send us word?” At A.J.’s nod, Seamus relaxed. He took a bite of his stew, stilling from eating any more, when A.J. leaned in to speak with him.

  “I know this ain’t the time to talk with you about such matters, but, with me leavin’, I don’t want to forget to tell you.” At Seamus’s terse nod, A.J. spoke in a low voice, waiting until he saw that Maggie was entertained in a conversation with Aileen. “Those two rascals, Rufus and Clem, they slipped out of town a few days ago and caught a steamboat back to Saint Louis.”

  “How?” Seamus asked, glowering at his friend.

  Shrugging, A.J. shook his head. “Seems someone was willin’ to let ’em go. Or pay for ’em to be released. I don’t know.” He waited until he sensed conversation had picked up around him again, before resuming his chat with Seamus. “I’ll find ’em in Saint Louis.” He shared a severe look with Seamus. “They won’t go unpunished.”

  “Good,” Seamus said.

  A.J. gobbled down a few mouthfuls of the delicious stew, before turning to speak to Maggie. “I’ll sure miss seein’ you recapture your bloom, missy,” he said, with a smile, as she fidgeted beside him. “Ain’t no reason to doubt you’ll come out of your doldrums.”

  “Doldrums?” Maggie said, with a raised eyebrow, as a smile flirted with her lips. “Is that what I’m suffering?”

  Shrugging, A.J. tore a piece of bread in half, before buttering part of one. “Well, missy, you sure ain’t yourself. And it seems like more than a funk.” He winked at her. “I had a friend once. Suffered from melancholy. Used to drive him to distraction, coming up with words to describe his mood. His two favorites were doldrums and funk.” He shrugged again, although the levity had disappeared from his gaze, as he spoke of his friend.

  “I bet you lifted his spirits,” Maggie murmured, her gaze now subtly glowing with teasing, as she stared at A.J., a hint of the old Maggie waiting to burst forth again.

  “For a time,” A.J. said in a soft voice. “Until he lost his way.” He speared Maggie with a fierce look. “Don’t you lose yours, Miss Maggie. I want to return to Fort Benton or to receive letters from your pa, telling me that you’re well. Married. Happy.” His expression filled with momentary dread at the thought of anything happening to her. “I don’t want no bad tidings about you.”

  Maggie reached for his hand, stilling his fingers’ nervous tapping on the tabletop. “I have no desire to harm myself, A.J.,” she whispered, flushing. “I can’t believe you’d think me capable of … of such a thing.”

  “Anyone is capable of anything, given the right mood,” he said. “Don’t be afraid of livin’, missy. Don’t be afraid of turnin’ to your young man and demandin’ he hold you tight, as you banish that evil man’s hold over you.”

  Sighing, Maggie swiped at crumbs, her gaze downcast. “He won’t want me, A.J. I’m not the woman he needs. Or should be burdened with.”

  “What’s this nonsense?” A.J. hissed.

  She knew he was truly riled because he never misspoke once. She had learned that he misspoke when he was in a teasing or festive mood. When he was deadly serious, as he had been since he’d entered the house this evening, he rarely abused any words. “Your man is devoted to you. Don’t act like a brainless ninny, too afraid of her own shadow to have faith in anyone.”

  “You don’t understand,” Maggie whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

  “You think I don’t understand fear? That I don’t understand bein’ denied my heart’s desire? That I don’t understand the agony it causes to hold my love in my arms as her heart breaks because we can’t have children?” He shook his head. “I do. And I’d go through each heartache again and again, if it meant I had more time with my Bessie. If it helped ease one drop of her pain.” He stared at Maggie with patent disappointment. “Don’t deny him what he’s earned, missy.”

  She gazed at him in confusion.

  “He refused to die, so he could come back to you. He lived through the fever, the pain, and the torment of knowin’ he’ll always have an impediment, so that he would have time with you.” He paused as he stared at Maggie. “Do you think that limp don’t bother a man as proud as Dunmore?”

  “I wouldn’t care if he’d lost his leg. All that matters is he’s alive,” Maggie whispered.

  A.J. gave a huff. “Then why won’t you believe he could love you the same, missy?”

  Maggie stared at A.J., with dawning understanding, and nodded. “I’ll miss you, Mr. A.J. Come back to us next year, if you can.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ll see what my Bessie thinks. Perhaps she’ll come with me.” He turned as his name was called, entering into a challenge over who could tell the tallest tale with wee Bryan. The mood lightened, and the O’Rourkes cherished their last evening with the captain, before he returned to Saint Louis.

  * * *

  Dunmore poked his head into the kitchen two days later, a few hours before supper. “Maggie, beloved, come walk with me to the stream.” He smiled at Mary, who gave him an encouraging look, although he noted the concern in her gaze.

  “I’m busy, Dunmore,” Maggie said, as she continued to chop a carrot. Her knife sliced up and down in an erratic manner—to the point it looked as though she could easily miss and chop herself rather than the vegetable.

  He frowned and edged inside. “Mary, does Maggie have t
ime?”

  Mary looked from her daughter to Dunmore and back before she nodded. “Aye. If she desires it.”

  With an aggrieved sigh, Maggie slammed down her knife and whipped off her apron. “Fine. I’ll walk with you, although I don’t know what good it will do you.” She marched past a perplexed Dunmore, the door nearly slamming in his face, as he raced to catch up with her.

  “Maggie?” he called out, as he came abreast to her. “What’s the matter?”

  “I hate being maneuvered into doing something I don’t want to do,” she snapped, her head lowered and her stride as long as possible, as she moved with haste to the creek. He matched her fast pace, although with each step his limp was more pronounced.

  When they arrived a few short minutes later, she was out of breath and pricklier than he’d ever seen her, and his leg ached. When he stroked a hand over her shoulder, she shied away from his touch and refused to turn to meet his gaze.

  “Maggie, what happened while I was away?” he asked, forcing himself to exude a calm he did not feel. “Are you upset I have to work again?” He had turned so he faced her, although she continued to stare at the barely trickling creek. “Maggie?”

  “You should do what you want, Dunmore, and cease worrying about me,” she said in a flat voice. “I’m not interested in …” She sighed and broke off what more she would have said.

  Gripping her shoulders, he spun her to face him, the ache in his heart now overpowering any ache in his leg. “Not interested in me? Is that what you’re trying to say?” His blue-green eyes glowed with hurt and uncertainty. He stared deeply into her eyes, his jaw ticking, as he clamped it shut.

  “No, I’m not. Why should that be such a surprise to you?” She stared at him, wriggling as he continued to hold her firmly. “You have a limp.”