When the man’s feet were on the ground, Mike released his wife. She hurtled the remaining distance and threw herself, sobbing, into her brother’s arms. “Brian. Brian.” She chanted his name like a prayer.
Two heads of fire joined in reunion. Megan pulled back and gazed hungrily at her brother’s face. “Oh, Brian, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” She looped an arm around his waist and pulled him forward.
“Michael, this is my brother, Brian O’Shanahan. Brian, this is my husband, Michael Manning.” The men shook hands, gazes estimating, weighing the other in the eternal masculine dance. Satisfied, their grips loosened and hands fell loosely to their sides.
“Welcome, Brian. My wife has talked about you often. Welcome to the Circle M.” Mike laid his claim.
“Well, I haven’t seen my sister for almost a year. Since I left Boston. But I’m anxious to catch up.” Brian staked his own claim.
Mike looked over his shoulder. The men had lost interest and begun the process of grooming and feeding the horses and bedding them for the night. “Jack,” he called across the yard to one of the hands. “Would you see to our visitor’s horse?”
“I’m headed to the river to wash away this dust. I’ll be back shortly.” He turned toward the little trail.
“If it’s all right with you, Megan, I think I’ll go along. I have a pound of dirt down my throat and in my hair.” Brian waited for his sister’s reply.
“Of course, but don’t tell Michael where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing. I want to hear all of the story myself. While you’re getting cleaned up, Lupe and I will prepare a room for you.” Megan placed one more kiss on her brother’s cheek before moving toward the house.
Like a child promised a treat, Megan paced anxiously at the beginning of the river path waiting for the two men to return. When they came within sight, she ran to meet them and took her brother’s hand. “Come sit on the porch. We put out a little snack and whiskey or lemonade.”
Megan pulled on Brian’s hand. “This is my friend, Lupe, and her husband Manuel. This is my brother, Brian.” She sat on the swing and patted the spot beside her. Brian looked at Michael who tipped his head in agreement. Michael poured three whiskeys and sat on the porch rail.
Megan wriggled close to her brother and laid her head on his shoulder. “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, brother, I’ve been that worried about you. Tell me, brother, where have you been?” Her brogue had grown deeper, wider, bolder.
“Keep still, girl. You always were a bossy wee one.” Brian took the sting from his words with a squeeze of her hand.
“Mam always told me to watch out for my little brother.” Her light-hearted giggle sailed on a hot Texas breeze. “I forget you’re grown up.”
“Well, you know I left Uncle’s house as soon as I turned eighteen. It was hard waiting for that birthday, but if I escaped before being of legal age, he would have had the right to take me back. I was that worried about Uncles’ plans for you, Megan. I heard him talking to that O’Reilly. That sorry excuse for a man wanted you. It made my blood run cold, stone-cold, I can tell you.” He threw an arm protectively around his sister’s shoulders.
“I know, and you promised to come back for me,” Megan said.
“I worried and worried about you, but I didn’t see how I could take you with me. I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t know where I was going except away. How could I find a way to make money and protect you at the same time? I’m sorry I left you behind. I didn’t know what else to do.” He rocked the swing in long, easy pushes.
“I know, Brian. I understood.” She paused. “I tried to wait.”
He cleared his throat and tapped lightly on his thigh. “After I left, I headed north. I’d had enough of Boston, sure enough. I didn’t want either one of us working in one of those damned factories.” He glanced at his host. “Pardon the swearing.”
Michael nodded his understanding.
“I worked odd jobs here and there, but nothing seemed right or paid well. Then I arrived in Portland, Maine. It’s a little town on a big, beautiful bay—a fishing town. I was standing on the shore looking out to sea as the sun set in a glowing ball. Boats docked for the night. Fish unloaded. Men called to each other and asked about the catch. Women waited on the shore holding their children by the hand. It felt like home.” He closed his eyes, and she felt him searching for that memory. “A big hand clapped me on the shoulder and a man says, ‘You can almost see the old country from here. I’ve spent many an hour with my da looking across the water, but you’re better off here, son. There’s is nothing but hunger and sorrow over the water.’” Brian opened his eyes and scanned the little group.
“Was he Irish, then?” Megan wanted to know.
“Scottish. His name is Alec MacCullen. Everyone calls him Mac. Well, his family stayed during what they call the Clearing as long as they could, but the damned English brought more and more sheep and more and more laws until a man could hardly breathe.”
“What were they clearing?” Megan asked.
“They were clearing the Highlands of Highlanders.” Brian replied. “In Ireland we had the Hunger, but it amounted to the same thing. Stay in your country and starve or board the boat for America.”
“Oh.” Her voice was a sad shadow.
“His had been a fishing family from a place called Portree on the Isle of Skye. His family came to Maine thirty years ago when he was a boy of ten, and they have done very well. He has a bonny house high on a hill over the bay. His father, wife and daughter live with him. His son, Sean, was swept over in a storm. Sure they mourn him still, but any life has its dangers. A man can get killed no matter what he chooses to do.” Brian glanced at Mike who nodded his head.
“Back to me story. Mac and I chat for a bit, and then he points at a boat, the Elspeth Ann. He told me he was looking for a deck hand, and me, being from Galway, must know my way around a net and a boat. I met him there the next morning, and I’ve been fishing with him ever since.”
“The Elspeth Ann?” Michael queried.
“Elspeth is his wife. Ann is his daughter.” Brian colored at the mention of her name. “I slept in the boat the first month, but then Mac invited me to stay at their house.” His voice grew warm. “Oh, Megan, it’s a fisherman’s paradise: cod, herring, mackerel, salmon. Why, they fairly leap in the boat.” He laughed. “I saved my money for six months. Mac and his family know all about you, Megan, and my worry for you. Mac said to take a month and find you, make sure you’re well, bring you back with me if you want to come.” He paused as Mike shifted on the rail.
“How did you find me? Did you go to Uncle?” Megan asked.
“No, if I never see that man again it will be too soon.” A dark cloud flitted across his face. “I went to Charlotte. She gave me your address. Oh, she said to tell you that she got your letter, and she thanks you for it. She is thinking on the matter.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to hear of my dear friend.” Megan looked up at her husband and smiled.
“I have been gone from Portland a little over two weeks, so I can’t stay long. Mac is buying a new boat and plans to fit it out to trap lobster. He is making connections in New York, and we’ll ship them on ice to the restaurants.” He paused. “I need to be back so I can captain the Elspeth Ann. Mac will captain the Megan Elizabeth.”
“Megan Elizabeth?” Megan sat up, eyes wide.
“Boats are always ladies. You know that. Mac let me choose, so I named her for you and mam.” He grinned his delight. “Then, of course, there’s Ann.”
“Yes?” Megan encouraged.
“I’m courting her. I have my hopes.”
Megan watched his face blush red. “How wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.” Megan rose from the swing and locked her gaze with Lupe’s. “Let’s go in to supper.”
Lupe slapped her thigh. “We have chili and cornbread. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you for your hospitality and keeping Megan safe fo
r me.” Brian offered his sister his arm, and they disappeared through the door.
Megan looked back at her husband. He stood at the rail looking into the vast Texas night. Manuel was by his side, speaking softly, his hand resting on Mike’s back.
They took their seats at the table, bowls of chili steaming hot spice.
“Join hands, please.” Mike paused as this was accomplished. “Dear Lord,” he began in his calm, deep voice, “thank you for this food to nourish our bodies. Thank you for bringing Brian to our house. Megan has missed him and worried for him. Please guide us in the days ahead.” His voice faded, and Megan felt him squeeze her hand.
“Amen.”
Chapter 14
Mike
Mike woke up as the sun threw its first ray over the horizon. Sun-up to sun-down, that was the job.
He turned his head toward Megan. Even though they hadn’t been easy with each other since the dance, they still found each other in their sleep. She lay curled next to him with her head resting against his side. One leg was thrown over his, and he moved his hips closer to feel the heat at her core. Her hair sprang in tight curls around her head like a demented halo. Lifting his arm, he gently moved a long lock stuck to his arm.
He didn’t want to wake her. She and Brian had talked most of the night, laughing, murmuring, sharing the bond of blood. He had tried to stay awake, but long days on the range took their toll, and he’d slept, waking occasionally to the sound of their lilting Irish brogues.
He needed to talk to her. He’d planned to yesterday when he came in from a long day. He’d wanted her to come to the river with him where they could sort out their troubles. His anger had passed, and even though he wished she had confided in him, he understood. He forgave. He’d planned on a little spanking. Not much, but enough to reestablish the order of things and take away her guilt. Then the blessing of cool water and games—the kind he liked best when he and Megan were naked and wanting, wanting, wanting.
But Brian had arrived. Her brother had filled Megan’s mind and absorbed her every thought. He swallowed a distasteful memory. He’d been a little jealous of her attentions to the man. Left out. He’d felt left out. Well, that was to be expected. They hadn’t seen each other for quite some time, and they had worried one for the other. He’d not be small or mean-spirited. He was happy for them both, but he would find time alone with his wife today. The need to talk, to set their marriage straight, burned in his gut.
Mike swung his legs off the bed and stood, careful not to disturb Megan’s sleep. He carried his boots and clothes to the landing, shut the door behind him with a click, and dressed for the day. Fences needed repairing, and branding would begin soon. In October, they would drive their cattle to market and prepare for winter. He turned his mind to the day ahead and the jobs that waited for him.
The morning sped by and the men knelt or sat on the ground and consumed their dinners. Michael took a bite of his sandwich and observed the scene. Nothing he hadn’t been a part of hundreds of times before, but he was antsy, uncomfortable, disturbed.
“Manuel,” he walked over to his foreman, “I think I’ll head in. I want to check on the women.”
Manuel nodded. “That’s fine, jefe. We will finish fixing these fences before coming in for the day.”
Mike swung into his saddle in one fluid move and turned toward home. He sure would hate to see Manuel go. The man was steady and smart and had been both his friend and teacher. He snorted. Manuel knew he only wanted to check on Megan. Lupe was fine baking bread, working on supper, hanging laundry.
Mike needed to see Megan. There was an annoying itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t scratch. It was trying to tell him something, and he aimed to listen.
Mike slid from his horse and handed the reins to one of the hands in the barn. He checked the front porch swing for a pair of red heads, no luck. Walking behind the house, he scanned the horizon toward the river. It would be mighty hot on the banks of the water this time of day, but Megan loved it there. He hesitated. The house. He would check there first.
“Lupe? Megan?” He called their names as he pulled the door shut behind him. The quiet alarmed and disturbed him. Dust motes floated suspended in the air. Peering up the stairs, he listened for the sound of Megan’s sewing machine. Sometimes she was so absorbed in her task and the whir of the machine that she didn’t hear. The familiar thump of the treadle was missing. Not sewing, then.
He moved toward the kitchen. His stomach was clenching, turning, aching. Whatever waited for him on the other side of that door, he knew in his burning gut he wouldn’t like it.
“Lupe?” Mike sat down across from his housekeeper and friend. She slumped over the table, a handkerchief clutched in her hand, and raised red-rimmed, sad eyes to his face. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.
Manuel had brought Lupe to the ranch as a young bride when Mike was ten. In all of the intervening years, he’d never seen her without a smile, a kind word, a blessing on her lips.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“She’s gone.” Lupe’s voice cracked and crumbled.
“Gone.” Mike repeated the terrible word.
“Megan. She’s gone.” She dabbed at her eyes with the sodden fabric. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have meddled in your business.” Tears slid down her pale face.
“Now, that’s water under the bridge. She was a surprise but never a mistake. We hit a rough patch, but I figured we’d muddle our way through.” He raised his eyebrow in question. “Isn’t that how it works? Some sunshine and some rain?”
Lupe nodded before sliding her hand into the pocket of her apron. “She left you a letter.”
He took the missive from her hand, turned it over, considered it from all angles. His name was written in Megan’s distinctive script on the front. Putting his thumb under the flap, he pulled it free and removed a single sheet of paper.
He unfolded the letter, laid it flat on the table and smoothed the crease. Dear Michael, he paused and gathered a deep breath. He was jefe. He was boss. He was Mike. He was only Michael to her, and he loved the sound of his name on her lips. He loved to swallow his name in a kiss when she lay beneath him with curly hair surrounding them like a red twister. The idea that he would never hear her brogue calling him again made him hunch his shoulders as if warding off a physical blow. He groaned.
He returned to the business of heartbreak.
I’m sorry to tell you this in a letter, but I could never leave if I was looking into your eyes. I love you, Michael, I do, but you deserve better than me.
What in the world? He knew she loved him, and he definitely still loved her. But a real man could never allow his woman to make his decisions for him. A tiny spark of indignation joined his sorrow.
You didn’t have a choice when I showed up at your door alone and with nowhere to go. You married me out of kindness, and I thank you for it. But you deserve to choose your own wife. One you love and one who doesn’t have secrets. I hope you will be happy and have that houseful of children you want.
Damn.
You can divorce me. Brian says abandonment is legal grounds. If you send the papers to Alec MacCullen, Portland, Maine, they will be delivered. He says everyone knows Mac.
Divorce? Where the hell had she been when they spoke their vows? A flare of anger sang through his veins. He had reached the end of the missive. All that remained was her signature blurred by tears.
Love, Megan.
He reread the letter and then read it again. Well, he’d be damned if she was going to slip away like a thief in the night. If she really wanted to go east with Brian, if she truly wanted to end their marriage, she would tell him to his face.
“When did they leave?” His question, curt and quick, caused Lupe to jump.
“They planned to be on the noon stage to Abilene,” she answered.
Mike nodded. “That’s what I thought. Did she take Bunny?”
“Yes. She said to tell you
Bunny would be at the Livery. Brian rode the big roan he arrived on.” Lupe dried her eyes and a little look of hope flared.
Mike rose and headed toward the door. His steps firm, fast, determined. If he cut across the range, he could head off that stage coach. She would look him in the eye, and they would have a come to Jesus.
“Where are you going, jefe?” Lupe rose from the table and shadowed him to the door.
“I aim to head off the coach. I deserve more than a god damned letter. I deserve a proper good-bye if that’s what she really wants.” The door slammed behind him.
Lupe followed him and called from the porch. “Tell her you like her bosom.”
“What?” He stopped in his track and spun around. “Her bosom?”
Lupe nodded her head and pointed at her own breasts.
He’d like to pursue it. Had the women been discussing their female attributes while he and Manuel worked the range? His laugh sounded like a strangled cough. No time now. He had a wife to catch.
Once in the barn, he glanced into Bunny’s stall. Sure enough, Megan’s little horse was gone. He shouted into the cavernous space. “Saddle Diablo for me. I need to ride and ride fast.”
The barn hands leapt into action and soon led the big, black horse snorting and stomping into the yard. The horse was already moving when Mike threw his leg over the saddle. He leaned down and whispered into his mount’s twitching ear. “Go, boy. Run. Run.”
Horse and rider flew across the open space. Mike bent low over the horse’s neck while the long, strong legs gobbled the miles. When they reached the road, he pulled the big horse to a stop. He led the lathered animal to the shade and gave him a hearty pat. “Good job, Diablo. We made it in time.” He retrieved his canteen from his saddlebags and shared the precious water with the panting horse. “Now we wait.” The horse snorted his response, lowered his head, and nibbled grass. Mike perched on a large rock and listened for wheels churning the Texas dirt.
Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One Page 12