Texan's Irish Bride

by Clemmons, Caroline

  Though he tried to explain, no words came. Concentration and the effort of talking took its toll. He slipped back into sleep.

  ****

  Brendan O’Neill sat at their wee table beside his darling wife. Her fingers trembled until she almost dropped her breakfast cup of tea. Sure and wasn’t it his fault she worried so? If only he solved problems as well as he talked. He slid his arm around her thin shoulders.

  “Don’t fash yourself to bits about this, my love. Trust me, ‘tis the only way to save the lass and ourselves. O’ course, first I’ll see he’s not already spoken for.”

  “But forcing him to wed her seems a terrible thing when he’s the man who saved our girl.” Aoife brushed a tear from her cheeks then set her cup on the table.

  “Were Cenora not everything a man could want in a wife, then it would be a shame.” He kissed her damp cheek softly. “Other than me own precious wife, a sweeter lass than our Cenora never lived. Any man should count himself lucky to have her.”

  “Pray he will, and treat her kindly. But what if either of them finds out? There’d be trouble then.”

  He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at her wet cheeks. “Shush, now, who’s to tell?”

  “I suppose they’d never know. He does seem wealthy, and he must be good to have saved her as he did. But how will you set the trap?”

  That very worry had nagged at Brendan, but he sought to ease his wife’s mind. “Leave it to me. Padraic will help me.”

  “Sure and I’ll hate to lose her, but it would please me to know she had a husband to protect her from harm, especially a settled man who’s as well heeled as this one appears.”

  “Aye, he looks a fine lad with prospects. His horse is a beauty and well cared for. Shows a lot about a man. The stranger would be better for sure than that brute Tom Williams.”

  Brendan feared he couldn’t stall much longer, for Tom Williams wanted Cenora for his own wife, and right away. He’d made thinly veiled threats in the past week, though Brendan had kept them from his beloved wife. The warnings grew bolder with new hints of burning wagons.

  At the mention of Williams’ name, fear sprang into Aoife’s eyes, and Brendan cursed himself for mentioning the bully who led their band of traveling folk. The man had threatened to burn the O’Neill wagons and cast them out when Brendan had gone against him years ago. No doubt, he’d already have done so if he hadn’t had designs on Cenora. He might still, if Cenora wed another. They’d face that if they must, but their girl would be safe.

  Aoife clasped his arm. “We mustn’t let Williams near her. Oh, I can still see the battered face of poor Colleen at her wake, and Bridget before her. I swear to you, Brendan, I’ll kill the man meself before I let him have our girl. With her temper and spirit, she’d not last long before Williams did the same to her.” She sobbed and pressed her hand to her mouth.

  He dabbed again at her tears, then cupped her sweet chin in his hand. Even in her sickness, wasn’t his Aoife still the prettiest girl ever born in Killarney?

  “Brendan, what will you do to convince the stranger?”

  “Shush now, don’t worry. I’m not the bravest or smartest of men, ‘tis true, but you know I’d do anything to protect you and our younguns. Williams won’t have our Cenora. You can count on it, love.” He’d get around the man some way. Brendan prayed for an opening—a sign from God.

  His wife looked up at him, and he saw hope spring into her lovely blue eyes. “Do you have a plan then?”

  Her faith ate at him, for he hadn’t anything more than bluster and a glimmer to offer. However he accomplished this, he knew he’d have to involve other elders. Numbers would help force Williams to go along in order to save face. Brendan pulled her to him and smoothed his hands across her back. Ah, dear heaven, she felt so thin nowadays it near broke his heart.

  He gave her back a reassuring pat and offered a promise he hoped he could keep. “We’ll find a way. I’ll see me chance, and I’ll snatch it.” He grabbed at the air beside them to show his intended action. “Cease your fretting, dear heart, and leave it to me. Cenora’s as good as wed to the stranger.”

  Brendan pushed to his feet. “You rest here. I’ll just go and check on the lass, and then I’ll meet with Paddy.” He felt a thorough cheat when he saw Aoife’s trust shining up at him.

  Next door at his second wagon, he slipped in so as not to disturb the poor stranger who’d saved his lovely lass.

  What’s this?

  They both laid abed and appeared sound asleep. Fury boiled up in him. He fisted his hands and wanted to pummel the stranger.

  Then reason returned. He trusted his Cenora and noted she had shed only her dress, like as not to save mussing it while she slept. Aye, she’d been that proud of her new gown. Weel, he guessed she’d call it remade and not new since she cut down the cast off of a settled woman. Good seamstress, his Cenora, and ever a help to her blessed mother.

  An idea hit him like a bolt of lightning. Saints be praised, wasn’t this the very situation he needed? He made the sign of the cross.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, thank you for the way out o’ this trouble. ‘Tis by your hand I see me dear family’s salvation.

  Without a sound, he eased out of the wagon and hurried to round up two friends and that black-hearted Williams. With other witnesses to her compromise, Williams would have to agree Cenora should marry the stranger. Brendan almost danced a jig on the way to Padraic Murphy’s wagon.

  ****

  A woman’s soft body nestled with Dallas’s. Her arm lay across his chest, and her head snuggled against him. His body reacted, and he pulled her to him, but he couldn’t straighten his feet. In the cramped quarters, he couldn’t roll onto her, so he scooted her legs until they twined over his. She moved her hand across his chest and down to his waist. He caressed her firm breasts, and she moaned with pleasure.

  A yell startled Dallas awake. Good Lord, the angel woman slept in his arms, and his right palm rested on a soft mound where he had no business straying. He jerked his errant hand back as he searched for the noise’s source.

  Her father and three other men stood huddled in the crowded space near the open doorway, and the face of each twisted in a furious scowl. Good Lord, the angry men near filled the wagon’s cabin.

  “Akh! I asked what’s going on here?” her father shouted.

  Cenora wakened and tumbled from the narrow bed to the floor at her father’s feet. She wore only her shift, petticoat, and drawers. In a flash, she snatched the coverlet and draped it around her. Her tousled hair and sleepy-lidded eyes only fueled the speculation Dallas saw in the men’s glares.

  “Da, ‘tis not as it looks,” she stammered and struggled to clasp the cover with one hand and smooth her wayward locks with the other.

  “Brendan O’Neill, are you blind? ’Tis clear enough what’s happened,” a bull of a man roared from the back of the group. Broad as an ox, he looked angry enough to explode. His black eyes narrowed in a glare beneath bushy brows, and he shook a fist in rage.

  A wizened third man who brought to mind an elf nodded. “Aye, O’Neill, sure and himself’s been sporting with your daughter.”

  “He’s done no such of a thing, Mr. McDonald.” She snatched her clothes with one hand while still clasping the bedding around her. “And how could he? The man is wounded and weak as a newborn from the fever. Besides, I’d never in me life allow—”

  Bull man interrupted with another roar. “Akh. I told you he should have gone with that nosey sheriff. Now you should kill the stranger.” He tried to push around Mr. O’Neill, and Dallas figured the bull meant to do the killing himself. He looked strong enough to do so with his bare hands and as if he wouldn’t mind the job.

  O’Neill held his ground against the man’s strength, and the confined space kept O’Neill in front of the other tinkers.

  A fourth man, one whose lined face suggested he spent a good deal of time smiling, laid a hand on the bull’s arm. “Now, Tom, O’Neill can’t kill the man
for being an outsider nor for seizing opportunity with a pretty girl.”

  Ignoring the others, the girl pleaded with her parent. “With Ma ailing, she couldn’t sit with him longer and left me to nurse the poor man. Shivering with fever he was. I knew not what else to do but crawl beside him to keep him warm. But I didn’t want to ruin my new dress , so I slipped it off.”

  She took a step forward to plead her case. “Da, he was talking out o’ his head and didn’t even know I was there. But with me beside him, he quit his shaking and slept quiet like a babe.”

  The fourth man laughed and elbowed the bull. “Aye, many’s the night me Mary’s kept me from shivering the same way. ‘Tis why we have so many children, eh Tom?”

  Her father turned enough to glare at the men behind him. “Shut your gob, Padraic, and the same to the rest o’ you. ‘Tis family business this.” Turning back to the two accused culprits, he asked, “What have you to say for yourselves?”

  Under his glare, Cenora retreated. “I never meant to fall asleep. It’s tired I was from watching over him so many days. I, um, I reckon his fever broke while we slept.” She blushed and held up a hand in protest, her green dress dangling from her fingers as she spoke. “But nothing went on here, Da. You know I’m a good girl. You must believe me.”

  Dallas pushed himself up on his elbow, but the effort sent his head whirling. Damn, what a situation. He needed to pee, and every inch of his body ached from his cramped position and his wounds. He looked down, realized he wore nothing but his drawers with a rigid arousal for all to see, and pulled the sheet around him.

  “Sir, what your daughter says is true. I would never take advantage of her. Weak as I am, I don’t think I could even stand, much less, um...” He glanced at her and searched for a genteel word. “…um, take liberties.”

  “Are you already spoken for, man?” her father barked.

  “What?” Cold dread shot through Dallas. He hated this conversation’s turn. Trapped in a tiny space clad in only his drawers put him at a terrible disadvantage to reason with these irate men. Maybe they’d shoot him after all.

  “I said, are you married or betrothed?” Mr. O’Neill advanced a step, his hands fisted. “Answer me now, man, or you’re sure enough done for.”

  The bull of a man emitted a low growl and looked ready to plow around O’Neill and light into Dallas. “I’ll kill the man if he’s sullied Cenora.”

  Dallas tugged at his ear. For a second he contemplated saying he had a wife or a fiancée, but what would they do to him then? He figured he’d better stick with the truth.

  “N-no, sir.”

  The surprise and dread he’d felt a few minutes ago changed to anger. What right had these men to question him after he’d risked his life saving this girl? He hadn’t asked her to climb into his bed, hadn’t even known she was there until the men came in.

  Her father pointed a finger at Dallas’s chest. “Then get ready for your wedding to me daughter.” He swiveled his glare to Cenora and jerked a thumb toward the door. “Cenora Rose, go to yon wagon and don your best dress.”

  “Da, no! You mustn’t do this,” she pleaded. “I told you the truth of what happened, which is nothing but me own laziness with a sick man.”

  Her father raised his hand as if to strike her. “Do as I say, foolish girl, and be fast about it.”

  The small man, the one Mr. O’Neill had called Padraic, nodded and a knowing glance passed between him and the girl’s father. “Sure and ‘tis the answer you need, Brendan, and no doubt it will work out fine.”

  Marshalling his strength, Dallas reached to help Cenora, but she shrugged away his hand. She met his gaze with tears trailing down her cheeks.

  “Please forgive me, good sir. ‘Tis sorry I am for causing you this grief.”

  Sobbing and clutching the blanket around her, she squeezed by the men to escape the crowded quarters. The bull man had to step out of the wagon to let her pass, but he soon reappeared like a steam engine ready to roll.

  Damned if Dallas would take this treatment. He sat up, and the small space spun. He thought he might fall to the floor as his angelic nurse had done. As he leaned back, he met Brendan O’Neill’s glare and crossed his arms across his chest.

  The man called Tom bellowed, “O’Neill, are you crazy? You’d give her to this outsider instead o’ me? Think man, I’m the leader here. There’ll not be the gain in joining your family with this fool that you’d get from me as your son-in-law.”

  Brendan ignored Tom to once more point a finger at Dallas. “You’ve seen me daughter’s undress twice now. The third time will be tonight after your wedding.”

  Chapter Two

  Cenora hurried to her family’s other wagon, praying this nightmare was only some mistake that would soon right itself. As her bare feet padded against cool ground still wet with dew, she noticed all eyes focused on her.

  Children stopped their play as she passed. Men who’d been talking near the horse string ceased in mid sentence and stared. Women who gathered around small campfires where they readied morning meals watched her progress. Not looks of warmth or greetings as usual, but shock and curiosity.

  How could so much have changed in one week, in one day? But it had. Less than a week ago, those two devils had stolen her, ripped her clothes away, and tried to rape her. If not for this stranger, sure and she would have died. And now she’d been found in his bed. Oh, the shame of it all.

  No wonder Da hadn’t believed her. Through no fault of her own, she’d gone from innocent girl to tainted woman in only five days. Ruined, that’s what they’d say. Would anyone believe her ever again? Would all think she’d dallied with the stranger?

  Her mother looked up from her own cook pot, and her eyes widened in surprise. She threw down her spoon and rushed to shoo Cenora up the steps into the caravan.

  “Oh, lass, what’s happened? Why are you running about in your shift with me blanket around you?”

  Cenora threw herself into her mother’s arms. Between sobs she related the disaster. “Da says I must wed the stranger.”

  Ma gave her an odd look, and Cenora thought she must not understand. Cenora tried to explain, but more sobs prevented words. Overwhelmed by humiliation, she realized everyone in the camp would know her shame. Oh, no, not just her friends, but what must the handsome man think of her and her family?

  She remembered the look of shock that grew to anger as her father questioned them. He’d hate her, hate her family. And why shouldn’t he? He’d saved her life and almost lost his own. How angry he must be. He’d never forgive any of them, not in a dozen lifetimes.

  “Ma, you must stop this. The poor man has already been shot helping me. Must he be forced to marry me as well? Oh, I knew it was bad luck to own a green dress no matter how nice the cloth.” Cenora clamped her hands to her mouth to smother a renewed bout of weeping.

  To her surprise, her mother remained calm. Didn’t Ma understand what had happened? Surely she should be upset.

  Ma patted her arm. “Hush now, my girl. Cease, your crying and let me think .” She pulled away from Cenora and sat down, tapping a forefinger to her lips.

  After a moment, her mother looked up. “Lass, you know I love you and hoped never to part from you. But sure and it sounds the answer to our prayers.”

  When Cenora gasped, her mother held up a hand to stay any protest. “The stranger looks a fine young man and obviously has the means to support you. Remember the fortune in his belt? Wed to him and away from here, Tom Williams can’t get his hands on you.”

  “Ma? You can’t mean it!” Cenora shook her head. What had Ma said? Mayhap Ma was woozy from her laudanum. Aye, that must be it. Sure and she couldn’t have understood the import of what Cenora explained and have remained this calm.

  Cenora took a deep breath and launched into the story again. “Da says I must get ready now, that the wedding between me and the stranger will take place today. Ma-a-a, it would be wrong. You know it. Reason with Da.”

  B
ut already her mother stood and gathered clothing and ornaments for Cenora’s wedding attire. “My Brendan couldn’t stall much longer, for Williams presses for permission to wed you. ‘Tis already awkward for us.”

  She laid the things on the small bed and took Cenora’s face between her thin hands. Tears slid down Ma’s cheeks. “Oh, lass I love you so. Whatever I do is for your own good, I hope you’ll always remember that.”

  Why was Ma taking on like this when the wedding was the problem? Cenora put her hands over her mother’s. “Sure and I know that. Please don’t you be crying, Ma. You must help me stop this terrible thing.”

  Ma sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her cuff. “Your da and I refuse to give you to that beast Williams, but sure and we’re running out o’ time when we must either give in or leave the group.”

  “Leave?” Cenora leaped on the idea. “Yes, Ma, that’s what we should do. We could take our wagons and go off on our own, couldn’t we? Just you and Da and me brothers and our two wagons to do as we please. Wouldn’t that be fine?”

  Ma dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. “You know your Da, lass. Himself’s a good man at heart and fierce protective of his family, for all his blather and bluster. Sure and he might try to find a job with the settled folk, but what could he do?”

  She shook her head. “Himself’s not stout enough for strenuous work these past few years, and how much could we earn with only our music when I’ll not be able to play much longer? You know Mac’s temper would have him ousted from any job he landed.”

  “But Finn’s a level head. Sure and he could find a job, Ma. Finn and I could.”

  “Enough to support the lot o’ us when that’s your Da’s job?” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “No, Himself’s a talker he is, and that’s the Lord’s truth, but there’d be nothing more for the likes o’ us in this rough land than there was in Ireland.”

  She paused in thought a moment. “The real reason that keeps up bound here is that Tom Williams wouldn’t allow us to leave with more than the clothes on our backs, just as we came.”