Declan stared at him as though he were daft and shook his head. “I’m not movin’ that creature.”
Kevin nudged his shoulder and shared an impish smile with his brother. “Well, we could leave it where it is and wait for the wild animals to come graze on it. Should make for a restful evening.”
“We dig a hole closer to the carcass, aye?” Declan stared at his brothers, waiting for them to nod. “It doesn’t need a nice place on a hill with a view of the river, like the poor lads who died on the journey.”
Ardan squeezed his shoulder and urged him to move toward the wreck. “Aye, I agree. Come. We still must bury the men and then work on the horse.”
As the daylight waned, the dead had been buried, and the O’Rourke men had prayed over them. The horse was in a shallow grave, although Ardan feared any rain would expose the carcass. As dusk approached, those who remained would have to make camp for the night. Ardan noted Declan and Kevin setting up a few canvas tents, and he motioned his thanks. He wandered the small area, looking for Deirdre. He walked to the area by the river, where the wounded had been tended and paused.
Ardan watched as Deirdre dampened a cloth in river water and then rubbed at her neck. Her indigo dress was caked in dirt, mud, and blood; and her hands, face, and neck were equally dirty. He paused as he saw her bend over to wash her hands. Rather than rinse them in the water, she began to scrub and scrub at them, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Rushing to her side, he slipped and fell on the mud, sliding to her on his knees. “Deirdre,” he murmured. When she canted in his direction, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back to his front. “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t,” she cried. “I couldn’t save them. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop the bleeding,” she gasped out around her sobs.
“Shh, my little love,” he whispered. “You did everything you could. Remember that, my darling. Take comfort in it.”
She shuddered in his arms. “Just like with Lydia,” she said in a defeated voice. “No matter how hard I tried. No matter what I did. Nothing would save her.”
Ardan eased her back and turned her around so he could gaze at her. He cupped her face in his strong hands, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks, swiping at her tears, while he gazed deeply into her devastated gaze. “No, a stoirín, my darling,” he said with an intense expression. “Remember all that you did. You saved lives today. And I know you would have saved Lydia’s life if you had been able to.” He paused as he caressed his thumb softly over her silky cheek. “I know you, and I know you did everything you could have for your daughter.”
“How?” Tears pooled in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
“Look at how you cared for these strangers.” His gaze held a deep tenderness and an abiding love. “If you care for those you don’t know with such zeal and passion, I can only imagine how you care for someone you love.”
“I loved her so much,” Deirdre rasped. “I hate that she’s not a part of my life. That I lost her.”
Ardan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Nothing will ever take away the missing her. Nor the memories of the moments you had with her.”
“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you for not insisting time will make this better. Or that I will heal once I have a new child.”
Groaning into her ear, he rocked her side to side. “Never, my darling. Never.” He smelled her subtle lilac scent. “Such a loss will always be with you. But it doesn’t have to define you.” He sighed with pleasure as she snuggled into his arms, accepting the comfort he so readily offered.
“Where are the others?” she whispered.
“There wasn’t room on the coach for all the injured and us. If we had crammed on board, their injuries might have worsened.” He kissed her head. “You’re stuck out in the wilds tonight with three O’Rourke men.” His hold on her tightened as he felt her shiver.
“Will I have my own tent?”
He leaned away, brushing at her hair and face with his hands. “Aye, you can if you want. But I fear you will be frozen by morning if you don’t share body heat with one of us.” A smile bloomed as he saw her flush with embarrassment. “An’ I hope the one you’d want to canoodle beside is me.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then smiled. “Of course it would be you, Ardan. I can’t imagine Aileen would be pleased if she knew her husband were cuddling another woman.”
He pulled her close, cherishing the moments he held her in his arms. “Aileen’s astute enough to understand the need to stay warm.” He kissed her head, and he felt her quiver. “An’ she trusts her husband enough to know he’d never play her false.”
She froze in his arms. “You believe I’ve done that to you. Your family believes that of me, don’t they?”
His hold on her remained steadfast when she squirmed, as though she attempted to escape his embrace. “Shh, love, let me hold you. An’ reassure you.” He waited until she had calmed. “No, we don’t believe you played us false. I never believed that.” He paused. “I believe you were misled.”
She pushed at him again and backed away a step. “Why did you come here?” She raised her somewhat cleaned hands to push at her dirty hair and cringed at the clumps of dirt and mud dried in it.
He stared at her for so long that she fidgeted and lowered her gaze. “How can you ask me that, lass? After the past month?” He waited for her to reply, before shaking his head at hearing his brothers calling out for them. “Come. We should join Declan and Kevin. Any discussion we need to have can wait until we are rested.” He held out his hand, the stiffness in his shoulders relaxing as she took his offered hand and walked with him hand in hand to the small campsite created by his brothers.
After eating a small portion of bison jerky, Deirdre crawled into the makeshift tent. A blanket covered the ground, and two others were at the foot of the blanket-covered area. She assumed one was for her and one for Ardan. Already shivering as the temperature dropped quickly in the semiarid land after the sun set, she tugged one blanket around her, falling onto her side fully clothed.
“Idiot,” she whispered to herself. Hugging the blanket tightly around her, as though to protect herself, she curled farther onto her side as she fought tears. All day she had battled a sense of incredulousness that Ardan and his brothers had raced to the wreckage site with Dunmore. That they had continued to show such concern for her. That she had her chance to tell Ardan how she felt.
She swiped at her cheeks as tears fell. Rather than running to him, telling him how much she loved him, she’d ignored him. And then cried in his arms about her daughter. She wrapped her arms around herself, as the reminder of her loss and the pain at loving and losing filled her very marrow. How she wished she were brave enough to love again.
Ardan stared into the flames of the small fire Declan and Kevin had made of the ruined carriage. Ardan knew Bailey would bellyache that they shouldn’t have used part of his vehicle for kindling, but Declan, Kevin, and Ardan had agreed it was past salvaging. Ardan sighed, tossing in another piece of lacquered wood into the fire, watching with too-great intensity as the flames licked its sides before consuming it.
“What’s the matter, Ard?” Kevin asked. They sat around the fire, leaning against rocks, their feet stretched out toward the fire.
“Deirdre,” Ardan said. “I wish I could be what she wants.”
Declan snorted. “The problem is, you are exactly what she wants. And that’s what scares her.” He played with a piece of prairie grass, chewing on the end of it, as he watched the glow of the fire highlight his eldest brother’s torment.
Ardan sat up, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward. “What should I do?”
Kevin shrugged. “What you are doing. Show her your constancy, and her fears and doubts will ease.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Be honest with her, and push her to be honest with you.”
Ardan sighed and eased to lean against the r
ock once more to stare at the stars. “When are you leavin’, Declan?”
Declan shrugged. “In a week or two. Dunmore believes the last steamboat will leave in three weeks, later than Da expected. They want to give men from the gold fields time to travel to Cow Island to return to Saint Louis.”
“Why?” Kevin asked.
“The captain earns a percentage of the total profit from the cargo. Some are willing to risk the ever-decreasing river flow for monetary gain,” Declan said with a shrug.
“As long as you aren’t stranded due to greed,” Ardan said.
Declan smiled and shook his head. “Anyway, I’ll be in town a few more weeks. ’Twill give me time to be in Fort Benton, in case you are smart enough to marry the lass.” He winked at his brother as Kevin laughed. “I think I’m takin’ Eamon and Finn with me.”
“Both of them?” Ardan asked. “I thought Da didn’t want us to be separated.”
“He doesn’t,” Kevin said, “but Mum understands they are restless. She heard them bemoaning their fate of sittin’ in Fort Benton all winter long while Declan has fun in Saint Louis.”
“Only Mum could talk Da ’round,” Ardan murmured. He sighed. “’Twon’t feel like home ’til you’re all back again.”
Declan smiled slyly. “Unless you are a bumbling eejit, I suspect you’ll have plenty to distract you.”
Ardan smiled, saying a silent prayer his brother was correct.
Ardan eased into the tent, frowning to see Deirdre shivering under one blanket, with the other blanket folded up at her feet. “Why wouldn’t you use both blankets, love?” he murmured.
“I thought one was for you, one for me,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I never knew it could be so cold in the middle of summer.”
“It’s always colder out of doors and by the river.” He sat beside her, kicked off his boots, and pulled up the second blanket, layering it over the first one covering her. He slid under the blankets and moved close enough so she would feel his warmth—but refrained from wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Hold me,” she pleaded. “I’m so cold.”
“At least I know you want me for something,” he said, grimacing at the bitterness in his voice. He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her belly, hauling her back against his front. When she groaned with relief, he buried his face in her hair. “God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered.
“Me too,” she admitted. “But nothing can change, Ardan.”
His arm around her belly tightened, as though he were attempting to hold on to an ephemeral dream. “Why?” he rasped. “Why deny what we feel?” When she remained quiet, he asked in a low urgent voice, “Why won’t you grasp at life and love and happiness after nearly losing everything, Deirdre?”
She shook in his arms, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from her tears. “I can’t have this conversation right now, Ardan. I’m too tired. Too vulnerable.”
“Forgive me, a stoirín,” he said, his deep voice laced with contrition. “I never would cause you more pain.” He kissed the soft sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. “Sleep. There’s plenty of time for us to talk.”
He relaxed, relishing holding her in his arms as she calmed, and then she fell into a deep slumber. After many minutes, he followed her into sleep, dreaming of a future of uninterrupted nights with her in his arms.
Chapter 9
Ardan stood to the side of the café’s kitchen, watching as his parents fussed over Deirdre. Although he had sat beside her during the return trip to Fort Benton, it had been a silent journey. Kevin had been inside the carriage with them, and Ardan had no desire to discuss his deepest emotions with the woman he loved while his brother was in attendance. Thus Ardan had attempted to find contentment holding Deirdre as she dozed, murmuring soothing words to her, and taking comfort in the fact she had not shied away from him yet today.
Now at the café, he watched as his da wrapped her in a warm embrace, while his mum fluttered around her, as though she were one of her own chicks, harmed in the accident.
“Oh, my poor Deirdre,” Mary said, as she pulled Deirdre in for a hug. “When I heard there was a chance you were harmed, I feared I’d go mad with worry. I’m so thankful my boys raced to the crash site with Dunmore to ensure you were well.” Her eyes shone with tears. “And to find you unharmed.” Pulling Deirdre close, she rocked her in her arms, as though she were a wee babe.
“I’m fine, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Deirdre whispered, although she clung to the older woman as though she were a lifeline.
“Oh, lass, I can only imagine what a shock it was to tend the injured and know some wouldn’t survive. It takes a toll on us.” She rubbed at Deirdre’s wet cheeks. “Come. We have a bath waiting for you upstairs, and your trunk is unpacked.”
“My trunk?” Deirdre asked, as her gaze flitted to Ardan in surprise.
He cleared his throat and shrugged. “It, ah, never made it onto Bailey’s stagecoach.” He shrugged. “Rather than have the townsfolk go through your things, we’ve kept it in safekeeping.”
Her eyes widened at his words and then nodded a few times in comprehension, as she allowed Mary to steer her upstairs and out of Ardan’s view.
When he could no longer see her but heard his mother murmuring to her in her soft soothing voice, he sat with a thud on a stool in the kitchen. Maggie entered, bustling around as she prepared food, and afterward Niamh arrived, handing Maura to their da as she aided Maggie. Soon a plate of food was set in front of Ardan, and he ate because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
“You seem out of sorts, lad,” Seamus said, as he sat beside Ardan. They spoke in a low voice, and Ardan smiled in appreciation as his sisters began to sing, giving them the illusion of privacy. Although Niamh and Maggie had yet to forge a sisterly relationship, they shared a love of singing. Ardan had faith that soon Niamh and Maggie would find a way to span the divide of their animosity.
Ardan chewed the last bite of food and set down his fork. “I am. I don’t know what to do. I had hoped the accident would show her the need to grab at life. To not let any chance at happiness pass us by.” He rubbed at his head, his gaze shadowed with doubt and dread.
“Sometimes tragedy reinforces our fears,” Seamus murmured, as he sipped at a cup of tea.
“Aye. I fear ’tis what happened with Deirdre. She’s more afraid now than ever before. An’ I don’t know how to help her overcome it.”
Reaching out, Seamus gripped Ardan’s strong forearm. “By your constancy. By your love. Don’t give up, lad.”
“’Tis hard, Da, when the woman I cherish doesn’t cherish me in the same way.” His eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, and he ducked his head. “I wish … I wish for so much, but I know there is little to do. She must find her courage, or there is no hope for us.”
“Be patient, Ardan. You’ve always been patient. ’Tis one of your best traits. Don’t turn your back on that now.”
Ardan nodded and rose. “I’ll return later. Thanks for carin’ for her, Da.” He called out a few words of thanks to his sisters before he left to find hard work to tire himself out.
Deirdre sat on a bench on the boardwalk area in front of the café, sipping a cup of tea. The O’Rourkes insisted on giving her the day off after her ordeal. She had spent the time languishing in a hot bath, after scrubbing herself clean of all the muck and dirt, then taking a long nap. Finally she felt more like herself again. She watched the shadows fall on the distant cliffs, heralding the end of another day in Fort Benton. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes and gave thanks she had returned.
“You seem mighty pleased with yourself,” a snide voice barked, breaking into her silent musings.
Deirdre sat up straight, opening her eyes to meet the gaze of the glowering woman standing over her. “Hello, Mrs. Davies. I am well. Thank you for your concern after the terrible events of the past few days.”
“Women like you never suffer timely deaths. You manage to evade death,
like a cat with nine lives.” Mrs. Davies held a hand on her hip, her burgundy dress fashionable, if a little faded after a mishap at the launderer’s.
Deirdre wondered if she had damaged her own gown while working in her new job at the laundry. Although she had heard the gossip about Mrs. Davies accepting work at the laundry to help pay her bill at the hotel, Deirdre tried hard not to spread it. She did not relish demeaning others, unlike the woman standing in front of her. She stood, standing eye to eye with the older woman. “How horrible of you to wish me to suffer an untimely death. I’ve tried to ignore the uncharitable gossip about you, but I fear it is correct.”
Mrs. Davies snorted at that statement. “As though the O’Rourkes don’t find joy in belittling me every chance they can.”
Shaking her head, Deirdre said, “No, I’ve never heard the O’Rourkes mention your name. Aileen spoke of you only one time. And for a family who tells stories of those they’ve loved and lost on a daily basis, I believe that speaks volumes. They have no wish to remember, or to honor, you with their stories.”
Shaking with rage, Mrs. Davies struck out, slapping Deirdre across her face. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? I am deserving of your respect. Of the O’Rourkes’ respect. If it weren’t for me, that pathetic second son wouldn’t have a wife.”
With eyes filled with loathing, Deirdre took a step back, her hand covering her cheek. “You have no business here at my café. And I refuse to serve you anything I cook ever again.” She bristled as Mrs. Davies’s cackling laugh carried on the wind.
“Your café? Your café?” she taunted. “You’re too naive to even realize what they’ve done.” At Deirdre’s confused stare, Mrs. Davies leaned forward, her fetid breath washing over Deirdre. “While you were away, they bought the café. They own it now. You’re their employee. Their servant.” She saw the flash of panic in Deirdre’s gaze at that word. “Seems little has changed in your life since you were a girl.”
Pioneer Desire: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Two Page 15