Pioneer Longing: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Four Read online

  Cormac nodded. “Thankfully the men in the Bordello didn’t take kindly to Bell interrupting their … endeavors. But Nora couldn’t leave.” His gaze was filled with regret as he looked at Eamon.

  Eamon smiled at his brother-in-law. “’Tis all right, Cormac. You tried hard enough. And it seems wee Maggie learned plenty while I was away.” He paused. “Or she has the confidence now to do what she’s always loved. She was a fine healer tonight.”

  Cormac heaved out a relieved breath. “Thank God. I had visions of Miss Phoebe bleeding to …” He coughed, rather than finish his sentence, wincing as he saw Eamon pale. “Sorry, Eamon.”

  Glancing in the direction of the sickroom, Eamon looked as though he fought a natural inclination to march back into the room to sit by Phoebe’s sickbed. He rocked back and forth in his chair but remained seated, his mum moving to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.” He stared at his mum for guidance and aid, his gaze lost and worried.

  “Grant her sisters time with her,” his mum said. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to sit in the chair beside her bed. Always have faith she’ll recover, Eamon,” she murmured, “but understand ’twill be a slow, long recovery.”

  “I hate that she suffered,” he whispered. “I …” He closed his eyes, blocking out the chaos of the kitchen, the various conversations, the scraping of chairs and clattering of plates and silverware as food was served. “I failed her, Mum.”

  Cupping his cheeks, she crouched over him, waiting for him to meet her gaze. “No, you didn’t, my brave son. You spent the entire day searchin’ for her. You planned to go to the saloon tonight, and you never forgot her sisters.” She ran a hand over his hair. “You have to accept your Phoebe is intrepid and found a way to save herself. She did no’ wait for you.”

  Chagrined, he met her steady gaze. “I wanted her to see me as a hero, as I swept in to save her,” he breathed.

  Mary’s smile was filled with love and understanding. “I know, my lad. All men want to feel that way.” She sobered as she looked at him. “That would have been momentary. Now you have a chance to show your steadfastness, which is far more valuable to any woman of sense.” When he stared at her in confusion, she said, “When you sit by her, talk with her, keep her company, and encourage her as she recovers, those acts of kindness will be worth a hundred moments as a hero, my boy.”

  “Truly?” he whispered. “I thought women liked the extravagant display of care.”

  Mary chuckled and patted his legs. “Not a woman of substance,” Mary reassured, kissing him on his forehead.

  Eamon sat, deep in thought, his gaze trained on the sickroom. He bided his time to return, waiting for the sisters to emerge.

  * * *

  Maggie bustled around the room, tidying it up after the events of the evening, as she watched the sisters. They had approached the bed but had not reached for Phoebe’s hand or murmured soothing words, as Maggie had expected. She shared a confused glance with Dunmore before shrugging. Although there was no need for him to maintain his vigil with her, she appreciated his presence. “One of you might as well sit here,” Maggie finally said in an exasperated tone, as she motioned to the chair by Phoebe’s head. “Talk with her. Urge her to heal.”

  The mouthy, spirited one who Maggie believed was the youngest, collapsed into the chair with a dramatic sigh. Her black hair was escaping its pins and hung down her back in coils. “Only you, Phoebe,” Winnifred muttered, “would manage to embroil yourself in such a scandal on our first day in town.”

  Maggie froze, watching to see what the eldest would say. When Phoebe groaned, Maggie moved to her side, swiping at her forehead and squeezing her bandaged hand gently. “All is well, Phoebe. Your wound has been cleaned and bound. You’re safe.” At the words you’re safe, Phoebe relaxed.

  With a snicker, Winnifred said, “For now. I can’t imagine we’ll be welcome here for long.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what we were thinking, traveling to the middle of nowhere.”

  Maggie continued to hold Phoebe’s hand, as she spun to glare at the two healthy Mortimer sisters. “And I suppose you blame your injured sister for that too? Or is it that you merely like to spew your resentments at her when she’s unconscious and unable to defend herself?”

  Winnifred stiffened, her back straight and her chin held high, as she beheld a fierce Maggie. “Who are you to presume to comment on my relationship with my sister?”

  Her gaze filled with scorn, Maggie shook her head. “You’re a fool. You have yet to understand how few people in this world will love and cherish you without asking for anything in return. A sister is such a person.” She stared at the two women with derision. “Until you can treat Phoebe with respect, please do not return to the sickroom. Phoebe has enough to contend with without having to battle your contempt as well.”

  She continued to hold Phoebe’s hand as the sisters rose and stormed from the room. With a sigh, she sat with stooped shoulders, closing her eyes in defeat.

  “You are magnificent, Miss Maggie,” Dunmore said in a low, reverent voice.

  Her head jerked up, meeting his devoted gaze. “Dunmore.”

  “Someday …” he whispered, before slipping from the room, leaving Maggie alone with Phoebe.

  Chapter 5

  Eamon emerged from Phoebe’s sickroom the following morning, bleary-eyed and in desperate need of a cup of coffee. He had largely ignored the noise from breakfast and sat in a dazed stupor as a full plate was set before him. He heard his mum murmur, “Eat, love,” as she caressed his shoulder and moved back to the stove.

  Glancing outside, he noted it was a bright sunny day, with birds chirping. Maggie and his oldest brothers were all present, including Kevin and Ardan, but their wives were noticeably absent. Eamon did as his mother bid. After wolfing down his breakfast, he drank his coffee and gathered his courage. Luckily the youngest boys and the two Mortimer sisters were not here, as Eamon addressed Declan’s absence.

  After focusing on his father, mother, and eldest siblings, he sighed. “Thank you for helping Phoebe last night. I know yesterday’s events interrupted our homecoming.” When his da murmured he shouldn’t be daft, Eamon blurted out, “I know you’re worried about Declan.” He cast a furtive glance at Finn, but his brother kept his head bowed and didn’t meet his gaze. “Finn an’ I are too.” He shrugged, the dark circles under his eyes enhancing the despair in his gaze. “We couldn’t force him to come home, Da.”

  Seamus sat in silence for a long moment, his blue eyes sparkling with confusion and hurt. “Why would my lad prefer to remain away from his family? What was done to make him shun us?”

  “No, Da,” Eamon stammered, shaking his head to clear it from the fog of fatigue and to focus on his parents’ misery. “No.” Rubbing at his temple, he whispered, “He fell in love.”

  Mary sighed and fell toward Seamus, her expression softening with joy. “Oh, how lovely. Do you like the lass? Is she good to Declan? When will they marry?”

  Eamon watched as his father ran a hand down his mum’s back, a soothing and yet warning caress. Eamon firmed his shoulders and shook his head. “She doesn’t love him, Mum,” he whispered. “She broke his heart, ran off with another man, and abandoned him in Saint Louis.”

  Mary gazed from Eamon to Finn and back again, her brows furrowed, and her eyes overflowing with devastation for her son. “I don’t understand. How … Why didn’t she love him?”

  “Mary,” Seamus soothed, “we know the lad to be a wonderful man, but not everyone will love him.”

  “For him to love her, she must have led him on,” Mary demanded.

  Eamon took a deep breath and cast a pleading glance in Finn’s direction, but Finn resolutely stared at the tabletop. “Ah, I believe she did.” He cleared his throat, a flush rising up his neck. “There’s the wee matter that she was carrying his child when she ran away to New Orleans.”

  “What?” Seamus whispered in a lethally soft voice, all the more
potent for its soft intensity. When his son nodded, Seamus slammed his hand onto the table. “And you left your brother alone to deal with such heartbreak and deception?”

  Firming his jaw, Eamon spoke in a clipped voice. “We didn’t leave him, Da. He wanted nothin’ to do with us. Told us, if we were his brothers, we’d leave him be.”

  “Leave him be in a city where he knows no one?” Mary demanded, her eyes flashing with anger. “You know he was striking out from pain.”

  Finn hit the table with his hand and looked up. “What did you want us to do, Mum? Fight him? Force him to accept our help, so he’d resent us forever? Make him sneak away in the middle of the night and never see him again?”

  Seamus paled. “Never see Declan again?” he breathed, as he stared at his two recently returned sons, the gravity of the situation settling in, finally understanding their solemn expressions. “No, never that.”

  Eamon sighed and shook his head, attempting to blink away tears that threatened to fall. “Aye. He swore …” After pausing to clear his throat once more, he rasped, “He swore, if we remained in Saint Louis, if we interfered in any way, we would be dead to him. That he would no longer be an O’Rourke and that he’d never return to Fort Benton.”

  Seamus stood abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor, as he spun to face away from his family. “Feck,” he hissed. He slammed his hand against a wall once and then again. “Feck!”

  For long moments, only the sound of Seamus’s agitated breathing filled the room. “I’m sorry, Da,” Eamon finally whispered, his shoulders stooped, as though in failure. “I didn’t know what to do. I had hoped, by returnin’ here, we were doin’ the right thing.”

  Seamus turned back, his eyes lit with grief, fear, and regret. “Aye, you did, lads. I’m proud of you. Rather than act like a hotheaded fool, like your da, you ensured there’s a chance he’ll return to us. An’ I find I desperately need that hope.” He righted the chair and sat, tugging Mary closer, so she could cry on his shoulder. “Did he send a letter or anythin’ to us?”

  Shaking his head, Eamon felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. “No,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen him so out of sorts, Da. ’Twas as though he were possessed. All he could think about was finding her. Racin’ after Magnolia was his only purpose.”

  “Why was he so angry at you?” Ardan asked, finally entering the conversation. “It makes no sense, Eamon. We fight, aye. We bicker. But we never make such threats against family.”

  After taking a slurp of coffee, Eamon focused on his eldest brother, who sat beside their second-eldest brother, Kevin. “Declan thought he’d finally found what you have. He dreamed of returnin’ to Fort Benton, triumphant, with a gorgeous bride by his side.” He ducked his head. “Magnolia was beautiful, aye, with a doll-like fragility. She had long gold curls that seemed frozen in place and blue eyes as bright as a crystal, but there was a coldness to her that Declan couldn’t see.”

  “Wouldn’t see,” Finn interjected.

  “When he first noticed her, I told him that I didn’t much care for her. I said I thought he could do better. That he should find an Aileen or a Deirdre.” Eamon’s flush brightened at that admission.

  “Oh, Eamon,” Mary murmured.

  “That seemed to spur him on, as though he were intent to prove Magnolia as good an’ kind an’ loveable as Deirdre or Aileen.” He paused, as though considering his brothers’ wives. “He could never see her calculatin’ smile or her fightin’ a grimace, when he spoke of our family, or that she only was pleased when he gave her a gift.”

  “She was after his money, never Declan,” Finn said.

  “What happened?” Maggie whispered, her cheeks wet from silent tears. Although she didn’t know her elder brother Declan well, she had liked him during the few months she had known him before he departed for Saint Louis. When she saw Eamon frown with worry at her presence, she waved a hand in the direction of the sickroom. “Dunmore is with her.”

  Eamon relaxed and murmured, “One evening, Finn and I brought a friend home for dinner. An Andre Martin from New Orleans.” When Finn huffed out a breath, Eamon nodded. “We thought him friend. He was captivated by Magnolia, but she barely spared him a glance.”

  “We were planning our return trip,” Finn added, “talking about the supplies we had bought, about running the store and warehouse, and about life here.”

  Eamon rubbed at his head, his thick black hair disheveled and in need of a trim. “Within a week, she’d left Declan a letter and had run off with Andre. Declan blamed me for her defection. Screamed that, if I’d accepted her an’ been more friendly, she never would have run away. That, if I’d never brought Andre Martin home, she would never have left with him.”

  “Bull,” Ardan muttered, as Kevin grunted in agreement.

  Finn nodded. “Aye, she admitted to me one evening, when I sat beside her, flirting and flattering her, of her disappointment that Declan had such a large family, and she couldn’t hide her distress that Declan would not inherit a great sum of money.”

  Mary gasped, her grip on Seamus tightening. “All she wanted was money?”

  The two brothers nodded grimly. “Aye,” Eamon breathed, “I believe so.”

  “Seemed appalled,” Finn continued, “as though Declan had deceived her, when she found out no grand house awaited him here, with servants and carriages.”

  Maggie sputtered, as she shared an amused smile with her mother. “What would we do with carriages and servants?”

  Seamus huffed out a breath. “Well, if you ask me, the lad had a lucky escape, except for his child.”

  “If it is his child,” Mary muttered.

  Nodding in agreement at his wife’s sage words, Seamus said, “An’ nothin’ is to be done for him, except wait and hope he comes home. Although ’tis unlikely ’twill occur until next year.” After a long moment of silence, he looked at his recently returned sons. “You did what you could, an’ no need to feel guilty because you couldn’t talk a stubborn O’Rourke ’round to your way of thinkin’. He’ll find his way right at some point.” After a long silent moment, he focused on Maggie. “Love, how is our patient?”

  At the sudden change in topic, Maggie froze before relaxing. “She appears to be doing well, although I’ll need to change the bandage today and to look for any signs that the wound’s festering. I fear, no matter how diligent we were in trying to prevent infection, that she could still suffer from one.”

  Eamon paled at Maggie’s frank words. “What can I do?”

  At his whispered question, Maggie reached forward and squeezed his hands, now gripped together on the table. “Sit by her. Read to her. Continue to spend time with her. She will soon tire of those four walls, and your presence will be soothing.”

  “Aye,” Ardan said. “When Deir hurt her ankle, she appreciated the time I spent with her.”

  Eamon focused on his eldest brother a moment. “How can you be away from the café for so long?”

  With a shrug, Ardan smiled. “Family always comes first, and Deirdre understands that. She wanted to shut the café for a day, but I insisted she remain open. ’Tisn’t worth losing a day’s worth of profits or giving another the idea to open a competing business.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “’Twouldn’t matter if they did. None could match Deirdre for her delicious food.”

  Looking around the room, Eamon frowned. “I haven’t seen Niamh since our return. Is she angry with us?” He referred to his eldest sister, whom his father said had married Cormac in December.

  Mary smiled. “No, love. She’s to keep her feet up. The babe is causin’ her trouble.”

  “Babe?” Eamon said, as he and Finn whooped with joy. “We’re to be uncles again?”

  “Aye,” Seamus said. “The babe is to be born sometime this month.”

  Sharing a confused look with his brother, Eamon asked, “But how? She just married Cormac six months ago.”

  “Ah …” Da cleared his throat. “The babe is Connor’s.”
He nodded as his sons gaped at him.

  “Connor’s?” Finn gasped, as Eamon stared at him, slack-jawed.

  “How does Cormac bear it?” Eamon asked at almost the same time.

  “He loves Niamh,” Kevin said in a sure, strong voice, as though nothing more needed to be said.

  After a long moment, those gathered then rose and restarted their days. Ardan shouted his goodbyes as he headed for the café; Kevin spoke to Da a moment before departing for the warehouse, and Finn rose to go with Kevin. Eamon remained at the table, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation between Maggie and Mum.

  Maggie had risen to return to the sickroom but stopped. “Mum, what about the other sisters? They didn’t come down for breakfast?”

  Mary sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Bryan whispered to me that they had hoped their breakfasts would be served to them in bed.” She fought a chuckle as her children goggled at her in indignation and stupefaction.

  “You can’t be serious, Mum,” Maggie breathed. “Do they think we don’t already have enough work, caring for their injured sister?”

  Mary took a sip of tea, hiding a smile behind her teacup. “What do you suggest, love?”

  Shrugging, Maggie stretched her arms overhead. “I’d have them make their own food, if they can’t make a meal on time. It’s not like they’re working.”

  “Working,” Mary murmured, her gaze filled with mischief a moment before focusing on Eamon. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Eamon shook his head, absently noting Maggie sidling out of the room to return to Phoebe. “No, Mum. But they seem spoiled and unaware of their change in circumstances.”

  “So it seems.” His mum settled in to enjoy the momentary quiet. Soft morning air from the open windows cooled the kitchen after the mass of bodies dispersed, the warm stove dying down a bit too, while a robin trilled outside, and a floorboard overhead creaked.