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

by Ramona Flightner

  Nora sobered and sat across from him in her comfortable lady’s chair. “I will always be loyal to her. Perhaps more loyal to her than to Seamus.” She looked at her hands, gripped together on her lap. “She could have had Ezra arrested and charged for the murder of her husband. Of your brother. But she didn’t. I will always be indebted to her.”

  Cormac studied her. “Ezra is more than your employee,” he murmured.

  She smiled at him and shrugged. “Why did you wish to speak with me?”

  “Why didn’t you do what Niamh asked you to, if you are indebted to her?”

  Nora looked at him with complete innocence and confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are asking.”

  “I know Niamh is pregnant. With Connor’s child.” He spoke in a flat, emotionless voice. “And that she came to you for help yesterday.”

  Nora let out a sigh, either of frustration or relief. “I believe I did help her. Or are you desirous to be a widower so soon?”

  Growling, Cormac canted forward in his seat to the point he almost fell out of it. “You know that’s not what I mean. Niamh will not die. She will be with me forever.” His blue eyes glowed with sincerity and desperation.

  Unable to shield her envy, Nora watched him with awe. “You adore her as a woman dreams of being adored. As she is, with whatever trouble may come her way. Accepting anything and everything, as long as she is with you.” When he flushed but remained quiet, Nora whispered, “Don’t you?”

  He nodded but then murmured, “But it’s not adoration. It’s love.”

  Nora relaxed into her chair, staring into the fire. Finally she murmured, “I’ve seen what potions do to women. Some die. Some can never have another child. And all mourn their loss forever.” She met Cormac’s gaze. “I would never wish such a fate, whichever it were to be, on Niamh. She deserves happiness and laughter and joy, after the hell of her life with your brother.”

  “I agree,” Cormac whispered. “Thank you for protecting her.” He watched as she shrugged, as though her protection of Niamh had always been a foregone conclusion.

  Nora was silent for a while longer. “If you do agree with me, you must also come to see that this child is not a penance or a punishment for the love you’ve felt for each other all throughout her first marriage. This child should never be considered a mistake or a cruel twist of fate.” She nodded as she saw a flash of emotion in Cormac’s gaze. “Cherish her child as you do her. For she is your woman, your wife, and she needs to know you will support her through everything.” Nora rose, leaving him alone.

  Cormac sat in stunned silence for many moments, considering Nora’s wise advice.

  That morning, Niamh stepped onto the front stoop of the cabin she shared with Cormac, with the intent of walking to her parents’ house a short distance away. Cormac had soothed and consoled her the previous day. His first act of devotion was whisking her out of Connor’s cabin to his, ensuring she was comfortable and safe. Then, he spoke with her mother about caring for Maura for the rest of the day and evening. Rather than fill the hours with questions and recriminations, he held her in a contented silence, seeming at peace with her mere presence. She had fallen asleep, hopeful and grateful for his devotion.

  She paused, tilting her face up to enjoy the sun’s rays. Although she was eager to see Maura, as she always was, she relished this moment of peace as she tried to concentrate only on the soothing sensation of the warm rays on her face. She attempted to banish her worries and doubts as readily as the sun heated her but to no avail. Doubts continued to crowd her thoughts, and she feared what her family would say when they learned the truth. She clung to the memory of Cormac holding her, his steadfast love a balm to her doubts.

  She heard a snicker, and her eyes snapped open to face Aileen’s aunt, Janet Davies. Where Aileen was soft and kind, her aunt was hard-edged and cruel. Niamh had never understood how they were related, but then her two husbands, who were as different as night and day, had been brothers. “Hello, Mrs. Davies,” she said, as she descended from her porch step.

  Janet, who wore a cranberry wool coat with a fur collar and fur cuffs at the wrists, blocked Niamh’s movement and prevented her from easily continuing her walk. “I had thought you’d satisfy him for at least a month,” she said in a low, mocking voice, while her eyes gleamed with malicious cruelty.

  Taking a deep breath, Niamh stepped to the side to walk around the woman who was becoming the town busybody and gossip. “I have no interest in your gossip or fearmongering.”

  Janet grabbed her hand and shook her head. “Your husband is at the Bordello, and you don’t care? I had thought he was different than Connor, but perhaps the reason was and always has been you, dearest Niamh.”

  “What?” Niamh asked, unable to hide the shock and disappointment from her voice. “I’m certain you are mistaken. He is at the livery.”

  Janet cackled with malicious glee. “You’re so unwanted, so undesirable, your men have to visit the town brothel to find satisfaction.” Her eyes shone with triumph as her words found their mark. “You were such a bother, your mother didn’t even want you for years.”

  “Stop,” Niamh gasped, as a few tears coursed down her cheeks. “Leave me be!”

  “Niamh?” a soft voice called out.

  Niamh looked up to see her mother, Maggie, and Maura walking in her direction. When her mother saw her distress, she handed Maura to Maggie and sent them in the direction of a pile of snow to play in. Mary joined Niamh, poised and polished in a fine ice-blue coat with a lilac scarf, knit by Aileen.

  “Hello, Mum.”

  “Love,” Mary murmured. Her voice chilled to the temperature of an arctic breeze. “Mrs. Davies. Always such a tragedy to see you out an’ about.”

  “Tragedy?” Mrs. Davies shrieked. “I have every right to leave the hotel and to talk about the goings-on in town.”

  Mary nodded, gripping her daughter’s hand as she tugged Niamh toward her. Soon Niamh was wrapped in a one-armed embrace by her mother. “Aye, you do, but you should know better than to spread malicious gossip. For one day, ’twill come back to haunt you. Especially since you never seem to have success.”

  “What are you saying? That my vision is faulty when I saw Niamh’s husband go to the Bordello? That he is not as you suspected and a different sort of man than his brother?” Janet said with a note of triumph in her voice, although Mary stared at her with no shock in her gaze. Janet barreled on. “He’s as much of a scoundrel as Connor ever was.” She looked with scorn in Maura’s direction. “As his daughter ever will be.”

  Niamh stiffened, flushing red. “You leave Maura out of it. She’s a sweet girl, not tainted by the viciousness of women like you.”

  “Aye,” Mary said, as she ran a soothing hand down her daughter’s back. “An’ she’s cherished by all who meet her. Just as my Niamh always has been. I know you can imagine my grief at losing my beautiful daughter for so many years and the jubilation to have her back again. And with a granddaughter too. ’Twas as though my heart would burst with the joy of it.” She squeezed Niamh.

  “You’re all delusional,” Janet snapped.

  Mary laughed. “Perhaps, but then you would say that, as we will have Nora with us for our Christmas celebration. There are those who would believe the owner of the Bordello should not be allowed in good company. However, she’s proven to be a good friend to the O’Rourkes.” She looked at Janet with guileless cunning before she met Niamh’s gaze. “Cormac agreed to visit Nora to invite her. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  Janet sputtered and then stormed away.

  Niamh leaned against her mother, fighting tears. “Is that true, Mum?” She met her mother’s mournful gaze, and her shoulders stooped.

  “Come, love,” Mary urged. “Play with your daughter, then come to the house for tea and fresh bread I baked this mornin’. I’m sure there’s a reason for Cormac to visit Nora.” She paused until Niamh met her gaze. “An’ ’tisn’t Janet’s reason.”

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nbsp; Niamh hugged Mary, smelling the familiar scents of vanilla and what was all Mary. “Thank you, Mum, for standing up for me. I didn’t have the energy today.”

  “I’ll always protect my wee babe,” she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “I just wish I’d been here all the times you needed me.”

  Swiping at her cheek, Niamh said, “I thought by the time I was twenty-nine that I wouldn’t need you as much as I do.”

  “Ah, love, if there’s one thing we always need, ’tis our mother’s love.” She kissed Niamh on her cheek and walked with her to join Maggie and Maura playing in the snow.

  Cormac stood by the Missouri River, staring at nothing, as his mind raced at everything that had occurred in the previous day. Although he had tried not to allow Niamh’s news to change anything, he knew it would. Her focus would turn to the child growing in her womb, not their burgeoning relationship. Fighting a resentment that mortified him, he wished he’d had time with solely Niamh and Maura. A few months for the three of them to discover how to be a family, as the shadow of Connor’s ghost faded. Now his ghost would be an ever-present figure in their lives.

  Cormac kicked at a rock, watching as it sailed forward and over the bank into the river. Stifling a snort of disgust, he felt like the rock. Kicked and pushed around, until he careened out of control. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he had never lost his composure with Niamh. He prayed he never would. However, he wished he could go to the Sunrise Saloon and drown his sorrows. He wished he could take a match and burn Connor’s house to the ground. If only the effects of Connor’s mistreatment could be so easily vanquished.

  Ignoring the footsteps that approached, Cormac hoped the townsperson would accept his unfriendliness today and then leave him be. When the person stopped beside him and stared at the river, he swore.

  “Not very hospitable toward your brother-in-law,” Ardan murmured. “And Happy Christmas Eve.”

  “Merry Christmas Eve,” Cormac muttered. “May you find more joy than I do.”

  Ardan gaped at him, his blue eyes gleaming with bewilderment. “How can you be miserable? You married Niamh less than a month ago. You’ve been enjoying nights without your niece. Your step-daughter.”

  Cormac turned to face his inquisitive brother-in-law. “Ardan, as I’m certain you understand, nothing in life is ever easy.”

  Ardan tugged at his jacket and wrapped the scarf Deirdre knitted for him tighter around his neck. “Aye,” he said. “Deirdre an’ I had a rocky relationship in the beginning. As I know you are aware of.” He paused. “You an’ Niamh have to overcome Connor’s memory, but you will, Cormac.”

  “Tell me how, Ardan, when my wife informed me yesterday that she’s pregnant with my brother’s child,” he snapped and then flushed. “Dammit,” he rasped, as he closed his eyes, shaking his head. “We were waiting to tell the family tomorrow at Christmas dinner.”

  Ardan stood frozen beside him at the news. After a few moments, he whispered, “I won’t say anything. I won’t ruin your surprise.”

  “It’s not a surprise. It’s a damn tragedy.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “What am I supposed to do, Ardan?”

  “What did you do when Niamh told you?” Ardan asked.

  “Reassured her. Told her that I’d always care for her and her babe. That the babe would be cherished.” He chuckled, but no warmth or humor laced the laugh. “How many times must my brother thwart me?”

  “Ah, Cormac,” Ardan whispered. He paused, then stared at the chunks of ice floating in the river and the ice coating the riverbank on the distant shore. “I remember one Christmas, a few years after we lost Mum. Colleen was with us, and Niamh was desperate for a mother’s attention. Affection. She yearned for the softness only another woman could show her. Or a man who loved her.”

  He faced Cormac now. “But Colleen wasn’t such a woman. She had no affection to spare for children who weren’t hers from a man who could never love her as he had loved his first wife. I remember seeing wee Niamh, fighting tears, as she tilted up her chin, bravely saying she didn’t like to be hugged. She cringed away from most contact from any of us after that, although she always had a soft spot for Da and me.”

  “Why?” Cormac whispered. “Niamh’s always sought out affection from me.”

  “Exactly,” Ardan said. “Because she knows you will never deny her any of her deepest desires. Or mock her needs. You will support her and love her through everything.” He looked at Cormac with a heartfelt admiration. “Rather than rail at your fate in front of her, you soothed her and loved her. Loved her unborn babe. That is the measure of the man you are, Cormac.”

  “Connor continues to take what I most desire,” he protested.

  “Ah, but has he?” Ardan asked. “Or had you already denied your brother what he most needed?” At Cormac’s perplexed stare, Ardan continued. “When Niamh had a problem, who did she turn to? When Niamh was troubled, did she run to Connor? Who did she make the special dinners for?”

  Cormac rubbed at his head, as he thought through Ardan’s questions.

  “Unconsciously, every time she needed something, she turned to you. She knew, even after she’d only been married to Connor a few days, that you were the one she could count on. How do you imagine that made your brother feel?”

  Vibrating with tension, Cormac hissed, “Don’t pin his abuse on me.”

  “Never. That is his shame and his alone. However, Niamh knew, deep inside, that you were the man of her heart, even though she was married to your brother. Even now, she knows it. Don’t let this tear you apart, Cormac. Continue to love her and her unborn babe.”

  Cormac covered his eyes a moment. “She doesn’t love me, Ardan. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve told her, and she’s never said it back to me.”

  “What does she call you in Irish?”

  Cormac shrugged. “A shíorghrá. Although I don’t know what it means.”

  Ardan stared at him in stunned silence for a few moments and then gave him a cryptic smile. “Ask Niamh. That’s something a husband should hear from his wife the first time.” He squeezed Cormac’s shoulder. “Never doubt she cares.”

  Niamh curled onto her side, stiffening when Cormac attempted to wrap an arm around her waist. When he kissed the back of her neck, she shivered, but not from any burgeoning passion. “Stop it,” she hissed. “Don’t touch me!” She tossed his hand away and scooted as far as she could to her edge of the bed until she nearly toppled out of it.

  “Niamh,” Cormac rasped, his voice filled with hurt and shock. “What did I do? What’s happened?” He reached forward and stilled her frenetic movements, preventing her from falling out of the bed. When she turned onto her side to face him, he held up his hands. “I promise I won’t touch you.” He swallowed at the devastation in her gaze. “But tell me what happened. Please.”

  “You should know,” she snapped.

  Shaking his head, dumbfounded, he grunted when she hit him on his chest. “Niamh, talk with me. This never resolves anything.”

  “You went to the Bordello!” she screeched, sitting up, so she was on her knees and looming over him. Her cheeks were flushed red, and her eyes were filled with rage and betrayal. “How could you do that to me after what Connor did?”

  “Oh, love,” Cormac murmured, raising a hand to caress her face. But, when he saw her flinch away from any contact with him, he dropped his hand to his side. “Listen, please.” He frowned. “I can only imagine what the gossips of this town said, but they’re all wrong.”

  “Did you go there?” she demanded, her hands fisted together on her thighs.

  He nodded, acceding that point. “Fine, they’re not wrong about that. I did go there. This morning. To speak with the Madam.” He saw her eyes flare with an unidentifiable emotion. Shame? Guilt? Hope? He couldn’t determine as it was so fleeting. “No Siren was around, as they are all abed at that hour.” He smiled with tenderness as she flushed at that news. “I have no need of anyone’s touch, Ni
amh. Nor do I desire anyone but you. Please believe me.”

  She let out a deep breath, her righteous indignation and rage seeming to seep out of her with her breath. Now she sat, deflated and defeated, in front of him. “Why did you go there?” she asked in a low voice.

  “We are to have a baby,” he said, smiling softly as her gaze flew to his, filled with wonder and surprise at his words. “I wanted to speak with Nora. To confront her about what she had and had not done.” His voice dropped to a barely audible level. “To thank her for protecting you and for not giving you a potion.”

  “I would have thought you’d challenge her for not giving me one.” She took a deep breath. “I could still try to procure one if you want.”

  “No!” He reached forward, gripping one of her hands and squeezing it tight. “No, Niamh, please don’t do that to me.”

  She stared at him in confusion, her gaze filled with wonderment at his panic. “I don’t understand.”

  He moved toward her slowly, his alert gaze gauging her reaction and the tension easing as she did not stiffen up at his approach. Soon he knelt in front of her, their knees touching, his hands on her shoulders. Leaning forward, his forehead touched hers. He breathed, “Nothing can ever happen to you, Niamh. You are my wife. My love. You are precious, Niamh, and I can bear anything but for you to be harmed. Or Maura. Or the babe we are to have.”

  “We?” she whispered, her gaze filled with trepidation and hope. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded, opening his arms to her. When she crawled into his embrace and didn’t protest his touch, he let out a stuttering sigh of relief. “Please don’t shut me out again. Talk with me. Believe in me, not the horrible gossips of this town.”

  She tightened her hold of him before whispering her promise. “I will. Always.”

  Chapter 15

  The sound of his boots scrunching on the snow echoed over the barren land, and he pulled his coat tighter around him. He still didn’t have a scarf or hat and hoped one of the O’Rourke women had taken pity on him and had knitted him a replacement for his lost and destroyed items for Christmas presents. He smiled ironically, noting he was thinking about inconsequential matters rather than focusing on his latest heartache. Or his ongoing battle with his dead brother. He stopped, staring at the nondescript marker, as the memory of that long-ago night when everything changed came flooding back.