Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three

by Ramona Flightner

  “It’s the most logical step, Cormac.” She held her hand up in the air and then dropped it down, slapping it against her thigh in agitation. “It’s just sitting there, vacant, getting dusty.”

  “Aye, dusty because anyone with sense knows better than to enter it,” he hissed. “That was the home of your abuse, Niamh. How can we start our new future together there, when the past will haunt us at every moment?” He waited for her to say something, but she stared at him as though he were being so unreasonable, there was nothing more to say. “Every time you reach for a bowl, wash dishes, go to bed, or turn to the door, you will think of him. Not me. Never of me.” He shook his head, incredulous. “How can you expect me to live like that?”

  “How can you expect me to live in this shack?” she yelled and then paled.

  “It isn’t a shack,” he said in a low voice. “It’s more finely wrought than the place you called home for years. It doesn’t leak in winter and manages to remain cool in summer. The stove is of a higher quality than anything Connor bought you.” When she shook her head and stared at him in exasperation, he broke off with his examples, making his home superior to the one she’d shared with his brother.

  “There isn’t enough room,” she enunciated, as though she were speaking with someone who didn’t speak English. “I will never be comfortable living here.”

  He leaned over, his eyes filled with rage as a panic filled him. “I’m not your father. I won’t build you a small palace, Niamh. I’m a simple man, doin’ the best I can.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes, her rage seeping away. “Oh, Cormac, I know you are. I don’t want you to be different than you are. But I do want a home large enough for us to live in.” She flushed as she gripped his hand. “I want a place for us to have privacy. Can’t you understand that?”

  He sighed and swore, stomping away from her as he paced the small confines of his home. “Fine. For now, we will live there. But not for long. Only until I think of a better solution.” He spun just in time to catch her as she threw herself at him. “You won’t win every argument, love,” he murmured, as he kissed her head.

  “No, but I know you’ll listen to me and will consider my point of view. That’s priceless, Cormac.” She stood on her toes to kiss his jaw before she backed away. “I have to meet Mum and Maggie. We’re goin’ to clean the house and prepare it for after the wedding.”

  He gripped her hands, raising each one to kiss as he stared into her eyes. “Remember. I want a simple ceremony, lass. I don’t need anything fancy, as long as you are walking down the aisle.”

  “Good, because simple is all you can manage in December in Fort Benton.” She giggled as he kissed her again, racing away to meet her mother and sister.

  Cormac ran a hand through his hair, afraid he’d just agreed to the first mistake of his marriage.

  The day before his marriage to Niamh, Cormac evaded his friends and soon-to-be brothers-in-law and their attempts at a party for him. He had no desire to mourn the loss of his impending freedom. He relished the fact he would soon marry Niamh, binding the two of them together forever. His greatest fear was that she would come to realize this was a mistake and would stand him up at the altar tomorrow.

  He shivered as he walked away from the town, up a small knoll and to an area with a rickety fence. Inside were the graves of the few who had perished upon their arrival at Fort Benton. Glancing at the scattered graves, he wondered at the lost hopes, the unfulfilled dreams of those who had perished too soon. Unerringly, his gaze landed on that of his brother’s.

  With resolute steps, he approached Connor’s grave. Rather than cry or fall to his knees in sorrow, he stood in front of it with tense shoulders and fisted hands. “Connor,” he rasped. His jaw clenched with anger, and he shook his head, as though in disbelief. “I never thought I could feel more rage than I did in August. But then I always did underestimate you.”

  After taking a stuttering breath, he said in a low, unfaltering voice, “I marry Niamh tomorrow. I will show her what it is to be esteemed above all others. To know what it is to have the respect and admiration of the one who has promised to honor and cherish you.” He kicked at the snow near the grave. “I will show her that vows are not empty words. That there are men who fulfill their promises.”

  He stood here for long minutes, as though waiting to hear a response from Connor. Instead, the wind continued its susurrus symphony over the snow-dappled ground.

  Cormac closed his eyes and unfisted his hands. He took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders. “I don’t know what mischief you intended with your will. But you did not succeed, Connor. Niamh and I will be together. Maura will never be separated from those who love her. And you will only be remembered as the man who had everything but wasn’t wise enough to value the treasure he held within his hands.”

  Chapter 12

  On a bright, cold morning in early December, Cormac paced his small cabin. He knew he needed to head to the O’Rourkes’ house soon, but he wanted a few moments alone before joining the boisterous family for his wedding to Niamh. He paused in his pacing, as he envisioned her walking toward him, her smile serene and her eyes lit with delight and hope. He fingered the simple silver ring in his waistcoat pocket, praying he wouldn’t lose it before it was time to give it to her. “I hope it’s good enough for her,” he whispered aloud.

  He ran a hand over his suit and then over his head. He’d tied back his long hair, although it wasn’t as long as usual. He’d had the barber trim it the previous day. Although he’d considered shaving off his beard, he’d had that trimmed too. Now he looked less like a wild woodsman and more like an urbane businessman. He chuckled as he held up his hands. If his calluses were ignored.

  At the noise at his front door, he called out, “What?” He sighed as he saw Kevin and Ardan O’Rourke on his steps. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t come? I’m not that much of a fool.”

  “No,” Kevin said, as he slapped Cormac on the shoulder and pushed him back, as he and Ardan forced their way inside. “No, we know you won’t miss your chance to marry Niamh. But ’tis tradition for the groom to be heckled by a family member.”

  Ardan held his arms wide. “Thus, here we are.”

  Kevin nodded with a wink. “Aye.” He looked Cormac over and smirked. “The shave and haircut don’t make you any less wild, Cormac.”

  Cormac lifted a self-conscious hand to his face and scrubbed over it, his shoulders stooping with momentary disappointment. “Really? I thought it was an improvement.”

  Ardan laughed. “Niamh liked you just fine when you looked like a half-tamed wild man. There’s no need to change for her.”

  Shrugging, Cormac said, “Well, I know she’s making an effort for the wedding. I thought I should too.”

  Kevin smiled. “You should see the cake Deirdre made you. I know she’s a wonderful cook and can feed the men hearty fare, but she should be a baker.” He sighed with pleasure. “I can’t wait to eat my fill of it.”

  “Glutton,” Ardan said, as he tapped his brother on his stomach. “An’ I can attest it tastes better than it looks. She made a small test cake, and we ate that for dinner last night.”

  Cormac chuckled. “So that’s why you weren’t at the prewedding dinner. You were too busy feasting on my cake.”

  Ardan shrugged. “Deirdre adores Niamh and wanted her wedding gift to be perfect.”

  Cormac paled and stared at the two brothers in horror. “A wedding gift. I don’t have a wedding gift for my bride.”

  Rolling his eyes, Kevin said, “You mean, beside your heart, your home, and your honor?” Clapping a hand on Cormac’s shoulder, he said, “Never fear. Niamh won’t want for anything else.”

  Relaxing slightly, Cormac allowed the O’Rourke brothers to lead him from his cabin to their parents’ home, where his bride and his future awaited him.

  Niamh stood, staring at her reflection, fighting fear that she was repeating history in having faith in another man, as she waited with nerv
ous anticipation on her wedding day. Her fingers traced over the beautiful robin’s-egg blue dress Aileen had sewn for her.

  Maggie slipped into the room, dressed in a wool evergreen dress with her blue eyes lit with delight. She frowned as she stared at her sister. “What’s the matter, Niamh?” When her sister failed to respond, she fisted a hand on her hip and tapped her foot on the floor. “Do you wish me to leave? Do you wish someone else was here with you now?”

  Just as Maggie was about to storm from the room, Niamh grabbed her sister’s arm and shook her head. “No, Maggie, no,” she whispered. “I’m woolgathering.” She flushed. “I’m trying to gather my courage.”

  Her frown intensifying, Maggie walked farther into the room to perch on one of the chairs. “Why would you need any courage to marry Cormac?” She shrugged. “I know they say Connor deserved everything he had coming to him, so why would you mourn him today?”

  “I don’t mourn him, Maggie,” Niamh hissed, her eyes flashing with irritation. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, as she attempted to relax. “I worry I’m entering into the same sort of hell I knew.” She looked at her sister. “Imagine what living with Jacques would have been like. That was what my life with Connor was like.” She closed her eyes in defeat when she saw Maggie pale.

  “Oh, Niamh, that’s a misery past bearing.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I thought he was a fool to go to the Bordello, for how could any man want a Siren when he could have you, but …”

  Niamh let out a small appreciative laugh and moved to sit beside her sister. “Oh, Maggie, how can you be so loyal, so good, to someone who’s never treated you well?” When her sister stared at her with a blank expression, Niamh spoke in a halting low voice, “I’ve resented you from the moment you returned. And I’m sorry.”

  “You liked being the only sister. The only daughter.” Maggie shrugged. “Why would you want to have that role usurped?”

  “No,” Niamh said, as she shook her head and grasped Maggie’s hand. “That’s not it at all. Do you know how many times, when we were struggling in the years Da was married to Colleen, that I prayed for a sister? That I wished for someone who could understand what I was going through?” A tear coursed down her cheek. “We have wonderful brothers, aye, but they don’t have a clue what it means to be a young woman. To go through the changes we do.” She flushed. “An’ they have no interest in discussing topics other than politics or work or sports.”

  “You were lonely,” Maggie breathed, her gaze filled with dawning understanding and wonder.

  “Desperately.” After taking another deep breath, Niamh admitted, “And then you returned. And you’d had Mum all that time. The mum I had so desperately needed. The envy about drove me mad.”

  “Oh, Niamh,” Maggie whispered and then giggled. “I was jealous of you having Da. Instead I had Francois, then Jacques.”

  They leaned into each other, wrapping arms around each other in a sideways hug. “I’m so glad you returned to us,” Niamh whispered after many minutes.

  “Me too,” Maggie said. Taking a deep breath, “And, as I am your sister, I have the right to give you sisterly advice.” She met Niamh’s amused stare and giggled once before sobering. “Trust in Cormac. He’s a good man.” She bit her lip. “He stares at you the way Dunmore stares at me, and that can only be a good thing.”

  Niamh gaped at her. “You know about Dunmore?”

  Maggie flushed. “It’s hard not to notice.”

  “If he makes you uncomfortable, I’ll ask Da to cease inviting him to family functions,” Niamh said, her hand gripping Maggie’s.

  “No!” She bit her lip. “No. He’s like a brother. Sort of.” Her gaze was filled with confusion, when she met Niamh’s. “I don’t know what he is, but I don’t dislike him.” She shook her head. “But my point is, a man who stares at you like that, like you alone were the reason the sun rose, won’t hurt you, Niamh.” She kissed her sister on her cheek and hopped up. “I have to help Mum.”

  Niamh watched her leave, her mind whirling from her conversation with Maggie.

  Niamh stood in the hallway leading into the living room, listening to the rumble of voices. If she focused, she knew she could make out conversations. However, she preferred to allow the cacophony of voices to wash over her, as she smoothed a hand over her skirts—hoping to as easily calm her nerves. Although she had professed her trust in Cormac, she found that marrying him required a leap of faith she had never thought to make again.

  Closing her eyes, she attempted to banish images from her first wedding day. Of Connor glancing over his shoulder as she walked toward him and the triumphant gleam in his eye, as though he had just won a bet. Of Cormac, standing sullenly beside him, his gaze guarded and more remote with each step she took toward Connor. Of the perfunctory kiss bestowed by Connor and his eager desire for approval and acceptance from Seamus. From the moment she said “I do,” she had suspected Connor had only seen her as a means to an end. As a way to earn entry into the O’Rourke business and to access the O’Rourke funds.

  “Niamh,” Seamus whispered, interrupting her reverie. “’Tis time, love,” he whispered.

  Pasting on a smile, Niamh slipped her hand through her da’s arm.

  “Take a deep breath, love, and imagine Cormac waiting for you,” he murmured. “Imagine the love and hope shining in his eyes. Forget your past disappointments.” He paused until he felt her relax beside him. “Good girl.”

  “Thank you, Da,” she whispered, as she squeezed his arm.

  “Anything for you, my darling daughter,” he said, as they slowly walked into the room. Niall played a gentle song on his fiddle, his green eyes shining with pride to have had such an important task entrusted to him.

  Niamh looked ahead, her gaze entranced by the sight of Cormac waiting for her with Maura in his arms. He had tied back his hair and had trimmed his beard, but her focus was on the love and promise of joy in his gaze. She fought the urge to run to him and smiled as Da chuckled, as though he understood her desire.

  Soon she stood in front of Cormac, with a priest Dunmore had brought back with him on his last-ditch trek through the Territory before winter struck.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Cormac said to Niamh, smiling as Maura patted at his face. “Yes, you’re my beauty too,” he said to his niece. With a hopeful smile, he said to Niamh, “I wanted you to understand that I am sincere in caring for both of you. In marrying you, I want to be husband and father.” His gaze pleaded with her to understand.

  “Thank you, Cormac,” she whispered. “Nothing could have touched me more.”

  He raised her hand, kissing her fingers, before they turned to face the priest, who watched them with avid interest. When Maura became fussy, Mary took her.

  Niamh clasped Cormac’s hand throughout the ceremony, her voice loud and strong as she said her vows.

  When the priest said, “You may kiss the bride,” Niamh turned to Cormac with a wary expression. However, he continued to look as though he were the most fortunate man, his gaze glowing with wonder.

  He cupped her face and slowly lowered his head to hers, whispering, “Don’t be afraid, my beloved. We’re wed, as we always should have been.” He kissed her, a slow, passionate kiss before backing away, as her family cheered.

  Niamh blushed, leaning into his side. When Maura toddled to them, Niamh took one of her daughter’s hands, while Cormac clasped her other, and they walked down the small aisle with Maura between them. As Niamh saw her family congratulating Cormac, she saw no cunning in his gaze. All she beheld was a tremendous relief and pride that she had finally agreed to be his.

  Cormac led Niamh outside, after they had eaten their fill of the fine food and the decadent cake. He’d tried to drink as little as possible of Seamus’s whiskey, although he’d still drunk more than he wanted to, as each of Niamh’s eldest brothers had raised a toast in Cormac’s honor. “Come, love,” he murmured, as he grasped her hand and guided her through the path to his small
cabin.

  “Cormac, this isn’t where we are supposed to go,” she whispered, as she fought a shiver.

  “Yes, it is,” he argued, kicking open the door and then swinging her into his arms, earning a startled shriek from her. He marched inside, slamming the door shut behind him and gazed deeply into her eyes. “We might live in his house, but I’ll be damned if I spend my wedding night there.”

  “I wish you could understand that all that matters is that we are together,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over his cheeks. “My handsome husband,” she whispered. “I never thought to see you with a trimmed beard.”

  He smiled, kissing the palm of her hand. “There is little I wouldn’t do for you, Niamh, and I wanted to please you today.”

  She smiled shyly at him. “You pleased me by showing up.” She flushed as he chuckled at her honesty. She frowned as she stared into his gaze. “Are you well, Cormac?”

  He groaned, sitting on the bed with her on his lap. “I drank more whiskey than I wanted to.” He kissed her head as she giggled. “But I didn’t know how to avoid it with each toast.”

  “You do realize some brothers gave us three toasts,” she said with a wry smile. “They wanted to see if you’d catch on.”

  Groaning, Connor flopped to his back, his hand on her waist to keep her steady. She still shrieked as she toppled to the side and landed beside him. “Give me a moment, love, and I’ll be fine.” His hand reached out to intertwine with hers. “Do you know what I felt when I saw you in this beautiful dress, walking toward me?” he whispered, his gaze filled with love and pride. “Peace that finally we were to marry. That nothing would keep us apart ever again.”

  She smiled as she cupped his face, tilted toward hers. “Do you know what I felt when I saw you holding Maura?” At his shake of his head, she beamed at him, as a tear of joy trickled down her cheek. “Absolute wonder that you knew how much I wanted her to be a part of the ceremony.”