Pioneer Bliss: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Five

by Flightner, Ramona

  “Bloody man,” Declan gasped, as she rubbed honey over the wound. He shook his head when she handed him tea to drink. “I don’t want anything hot just now, Mags. It hurts my throat.”

  “Drink it,” she urged. “I’ve added honey to it too, and the tea will help with your pain. It’s willow bark tea.”

  He gave a grunt of disgust but drank down the entire mug of acrid-tasting tea. “When can I see Lorena?”

  “As soon as you are better,” she soothed. “You’ll do her no good if you’re ailing as well, Declan.” She looked to the back door at the clattering of footsteps. Their brothers entered, with soot-covered clothes and streaks of dirt on their cheeks. They reeked of smoke, and Maggie held her hands on her hips. “You’re worse than any description I’ve ever read of chimney sweeps.”

  Bryan held his arms wide, his green eyes lit with delight. “I was in the bucket brigade!” He beamed at his older sister, as she ruffled his brown hair.

  “Imp,” she murmured. “Take care of Dec. He’s a bad burn on his back and ’twill take time for it to heal.”

  Niall peered around Maggie to look at Declan’s back, whistling in a breath. “What happened to you, Dec? I thought you got in and out unscathed.”

  Shrugging and then grimacing at the movement, Declan met his brothers’ worried gazes. “So did I. I didn’t feel a thing. Not until Da started helping me home. Then it felt like I had a poker searing my back.” He shifted, as though that would help soothe the discomfort. “Still do.”

  “Da’s gone for ice,” Maggie murmured to the boys. “Clean up and be quiet. Mum and Nora are tending Lorena.” Pointing to a pile of clean towels and clothes, she beamed at them, as they tiptoed from the kitchen to the backyard and the nearby stream. “Ah, peace. They’ll be gone for a little while.”

  Chuckling and then coughing, Declan rasped out, “You’re becoming proficient at managing all of us, Mags.” He used the nickname Kevin had given her after her return two years ago.

  “I’m learning from Mum,” Maggie said with a wry smile. She urged him to lean forward, resting his head on his forearms. “I’m placing cool towels on your back. When Da returns, we’ll use ice too.”

  “I’m fine, Mags,” he whispered, his voice sleep thickened.

  “Aye, an’ I’m an Irish princess,” she murmured, her hand stroking the thick black hair at his nape, as she listened to the easy cadence of his breathing when he slipped into a momentary slumber. She knew that, too soon, either pain or an O’Rourke would waken him. For now, she hoped he would rest and begin recovering from his injury.

  * * *

  Lurching awake, Declan sat up, immediately groaning, as the wound on his back pulled and felt like it burned all the way to his bones. He knew Maggie had muttered something about a blister and being a superficial burn due to his layer of clothes, but a deep throbbing began. Just as quickly, he thought of Lorena, and he pushed aside his own personal torment.

  Rising, he paused a moment to regain his balance, before striding to the living room with the intention of finding her. He came to a clumsy halt when Eamon stepped in his path. “Let me pass,” he whispered, his throat still smoke filled and raspy.

  “No, Dec,” Eamon said, Finn behind him. “Give Lorena time. Maggie, Mum, and Phoebe are still with her. Madam Nora had to return to the Bordello.”

  He rocked on his feet, collapsing to the sofa, as he listened for any sound from upstairs. When none came, he stared at them in dumbfounded confusion. “’Tis too quiet.”

  Finn smiled reassuringly. “There’s no need for wailing or carrying on, Dec. She’s alive still.” He grunted when Eamon elbowed him in his side. “Maggie reassured us there was little risk of her suffering any long-term effects.”

  “But there’s still a risk,” Declan said, as he moved to heave himself up again.

  Eamon rested a hand on his shoulder, crouching beside him. “Aye, there’s always a risk. But they’re caring for her. It’s a small room, Dec, with little space for you.”

  Declan stared long and hard at his younger brother, who was already married. “Tell me, Eamon. When your Phoebe was injured, were you content to kick your heels outside her sickroom, or did you insist on being beside her?”

  Eamon sighed and swore under his breath, before squeezing Declan’s shoulder. “You’re right. Come on, Dec. We’ll make sure you get up the stairs without falling over.”

  Declan glared at the twins, but, when he rose on unsteady legs, he realized their concern was valid. With Finn in front and Eamon behind, Declan slowly walked up the stairs, perplexed at how out of breath he was when he made it to the top.

  Finn softly knocked on the door, talking with Maggie for a moment. He turned, shook his head, urging Declan into their bedroom. “Come, Dec. They are helping her to wash up. When they’re done, Maggie will come for us. Until then, lay down.”

  Declan groaned as he collapsed face-first onto his bed. “I hate sleeping on my stomach,” he muttered. After a long moment, he pushed himself up, so he rested on his forearms and looked at his brothers. “I’ve never thanked you.”

  Finn and Eamon shared a perplexed glance. Called the twins, less than two years separated them, and they shared the same black hair and blue eyes. A few townsfolk had mixed them up, a common occurrence when they were boys. “Why would you thank us?” Eamon asked.

  “For trying to look out for me in Saint Louis. For allowing me to act a fool. For still being my brothers.” He waited a long moment before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

  Finn sat with a thud on the bed across from Declan’s. “I’m sorry, Dec. I’ve thought and thought about it, but I’ve yet to discover a way to have prevented you from being fascinated by that woman.”

  “Evil witch,” Eamon muttered.

  Declan smiled and shook his head. “There’s nothing either of you could have done. I was desperate for someone to care for me, and I never realized I was being played for a fool.”

  Eamon and Finn shared a long look. “Why’d you chase after her?” Eamon asked. His black hair was neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes shone with the contentment of a man who had everything he wanted in life.

  Declan rested his head to one side on his pillow, so he was still able to speak with them. “She left me a letter. Telling me that she’d never loved me and that she doubted she’d ever love the child she would have. She said she hoped she’d find a decent orphanage where she was headed.”

  He met his brothers’ aghast stares. “I remember you speaking with Andre Martin about New Orleans and thought it would be a place to search for her. I was right.” He shuddered. “She and Andre were already trying to find someone who would buy the baby as soon as she gave birth.”

  “Buy?” Eamon whispered, as Finn swore under his breath.

  “Aye,” Declan said. He closed his eyes, as the distant scene replayed in his mind. “They were desperate for money. I suddenly realized she’d only ever wanted me for what I could give her. Never for who I was.” He groaned as he moved, meeting his brothers’ worried gazes. “And I suddenly realized I didn’t care if that child was mine. I had to protect it from her. From whoever would buy a baby.”

  “What did you do?” Finn asked.

  “I agreed to give them an exorbitant amount of money after the baby was born, as long as they gave the child to me.” His eyes clouded. “Magnolia died in childbirth, and Andre thought the baby should die too, for causing her death. Thankfully the midwife saved Gavin and brought him to me. Somehow she’d heard of me.”

  “Did you pay Andre?” Eamon asked.

  Declan shook his head. “Nay. I never saw Andre again. And I claimed Gavin as mine from the first day. And he is.”

  “Aye,” Eamon whispered, Finn murmuring his agreement. “No one would doubt he’s your lad.”

  Declan ignored the irony of the statement, as Gavin looked nothing like Declan. “Forgive me?” Declan asked. “I was mad with anger and grief …” He closed his eyes. “Just filled with rage.”


  “I forgive you, Dec,” Finn said.

  “I do too,” Eamon said, “although I’m still angry you forced us to come home to tell Mum and Da that you weren’t comin’ back and that you’d met a feckless lass.” He rolled his eyes. “Thank God you have more sense this time around.”

  Declan lifted his head to stare at his brothers. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  Shrugging, Finn said, “Lorena of course.” He bit off what more he would have said when Maggie poked her head into the room.

  Her alert gaze took in Declan’s bare back, frowning as she looked at his burn. “Dec, don’t move. Wait for me, and then you can see Lorena.” She looked at the twins. “Make him stay put.” Her footsteps clattered away, and the sound of her returning a moment later calmed Declan’s impatience. She held clean cloths and a jar. “I’ll put a salve on your back and then cover you up.”

  She pulled the lid off her jar, using a spoon to spread the thick calendula ointment onto his skin. As he jerked in pain at her gentle ministrations, she murmured soothing sounds. “I’m sorry, but ’twill help you heal.” When she was done, she set aside the jar and placed clean cloths over his back. After motioning Finn and Eamon over to hold the cloths in place, she urged Declan to sit up and wrapped large strips of cloth around his chest to keep everything from slipping off. “There,” she said with a satisfied nod of her head. “That’s good for now.”

  She gazed into his pain-dulled eyes. “Do you want to sleep or see Lorena?” She ignored Eamon’s snort of amusement, as she focused on Declan.

  “See Lorena,” he said with a grunt, as he moved to stand.

  Maggie gripped his arm and walked with him to the bedroom Lorena shared with Maggie and Winnifred, but now it served solely as a sickroom. Maggie and Winnifred would find other beds for the night. “She woke for a moment, but she’s asleep again. Mama and Nora aren’t worried because she woke. They believe she’ll be fine.” She let go of his arm, as he entered and collapsed onto the chair beside her bed.

  Ignoring Maggie puttering around the small room, Declan focused on Lorena. On the ashen pallor of her skin. On her deep breaths. On her beautiful red hair fanned out around her head. He reached forward, tracing a finger through the silky locks, before caressing his fingers over her arm to clasp her fingers.

  “Declan?” Maggie murmured, stroking a hand over his shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I found a shirt for you to put on.” She held out an oversize nightshirt. “It should be easy to slip on and off.”

  “Thanks, Mags,” he said in a soft voice, releasing Lorena’s hand and gingerly raising his arms up to pull on the shirt. “I never knew a burn could hurt this bad.” He met his sister’s worried gaze.

  “Burns are the worst pain,” she said. “Don’t stay here too long. You need to rest and heal too.” She kissed his forehead and slipped from the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Declan immediately reached for Lorena’s hand again, needing that connection with her. A little of his tension eased when he saw her relax at his contact. “I’m here, Lo. You’re safe,” he murmured. “I won’t leave.”

  * * *

  Declan looked toward the door that creaked open, as he sat at Lorena’s bedside. “Niamh,” he murmured. “Why are you here?” Lorena remained asleep, a peaceful expression on her face, as he sat beside her, praying for her to wake.

  Staring at her brother, Niamh frowned. “Where else should I be?” She entered the room, bending over slightly to kiss his head. She sat in the empty chair beside him, stroking her hand down his arm and leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dec.”

  “Thanks,” he said in a soft voice. “I keep thinking, over and over again, what I could have done to prevent a fire in her store.” He rubbed at his head, grunting as the movement provoked pain.

  “No one can prevent every calamity,” she murmured. “Maggie said you were injured.” Her gaze took him in, and she shook her head. “You look unharmed.”

  “I have a burn on my back. Hurts like the devil,” Declan admitted. When she moved to lift his nightshirt to look at it, he shook his head. “Maggie has it covered in ointment and clean cloths. Best to leave it undisturbed.”

  “Oh, Declan,” Niamh whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he said, as he looked at Lorena. “I would have done anythin’ to keep her safe. To save her from …” He shook his head, rather than voice the agonizing possibility of what could have befallen Lorena. “How are you here, Niamh? I thought you’d be home with your babes?”

  “Da knew I wanted to see you. That I was mad with worry. He’s with the lads.” She leaned against him again, but more gently now that she knew about his injury. When she sensed the tension that continued to thrum through him, she murmured, “What is it?”

  “I can’t care like this, Niamh. Not again. Not so soon.”

  She pushed away to gaze into the startling blue eyes shared by so many O’Rourkes. “Oh, Dec,” she whispered. “Of course you can.” She swallowed. “Do you think it was easy for me to trust in Cormac’s love? To have faith in my ability to choose a good man the second time, after choosing such a vile man the first?” Her hazel eyes were filled with torment for a moment.

  “How did you overcome your doubts?” His gaze gleamed with his deep disillusionment.

  She paused, focusing on Lorena for a long moment. “Cormac left, after I hurt him. And I realized what life without him would be like. Desolate. Devoid of the hope I’d begun to feel.” She took a deep breath. “I had to come to believe that I was worth loving. An’ that my love was worth receiving.” She shook her head. “I’m not makin’ any sense.”

  “No, you are,” he whispered. “I’ve felt so worthless since Magnolia. She threw me away, as though I were as worthless as a piece of garbage. And she would have done the same to Gavin.”

  “Your son,” Niamh said. “For, no matter what, he’s yours.”

  Declan closed his eyes, as though suffering a body blow. “Aye, he’s mine.”

  Niamh nudged him with her shoulder. “You’ve seen Cormac with my lads. You’ve seen how he loves them.” At his nod and perplexed look, she murmured, “He’s not father to either of them. Connor is.”

  “What?” Declan gasped. “I thought Cillian was Cormac’s.”

  Shaking her head, Niamh whispered. “Nay. I was pregnant and didn’t know it when I married my Cormac. I thought he’d leave me. Would want nothin’ to do with me.” She shared a chagrined smile with her brother. “I was a fool to ever doubt him. He’s steadfast in his love. And our children will never know a life without a father’s love. He’s taught me so much about love and honor and loyalty.”

  She eased away to gaze at her brother, dressed in a plain nightshirt. She pointed. “This seems more like the Declan who I grew up with.” At his frown, she explained. “You in your fancy clothes, even a waistcoat when you first arrived, was a surprise.” She grinned at her lost brother, now home. “I never thought to see you dressed like a businessman, with your hair and beard cut short.”

  Declan grimaced and rubbed at his trimmed beard. “I, ah, I knew no woman would want the wild man. I needed to polish my appearance.”

  “No woman? Or no woman like Magnolia?” Niamh asked with a frown and a look of grave disapproval. “Do I seem disappointed in my husband dressed as a backwoodsman? Is Deirdre longing to shear Ardan with her kitchen scissors?” She shook her head, as she battled a giggle at the image of her sister-in-law attempting to tame her eldest brother’s long mane and thick beard. “We don’t esteem them for who they are out here.” She waved her hand around at the external aspect of his appearance. “We love and admire them for who they are.”

  Declan firmed his jaw and shook his head. “You don’t know what it does, Niamh. To always be looked at with distaste.”

  “And cuttin’ your hair and changin’ your clothes put you in her favor?” Niamh challenged with a raised eyebrow. “If her love is that fickle, ’tisn’t wo
rth workin’ for.” She sat back with a hmph, as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You know you’re worth more than that, Dec. You know it.”

  Declan closed his eyes for a moment, before nodding. “Aye. ’Twas easier believin’ somethin’ simple like a haircut could aid me in earnin’ her love. I should never have even bothered tryin’. She was soulless, Niamh. How could I have ever wanted a woman like her?”

  She gripped his hand. “How could I have married Connor?” She smiled softly at him. “I had to learn to forgive myself for making a terrible mistake, although I’ll never regret my children. An’ you must forgive yourself too. We make mistakes. We move on. And, if fate is kind, we learn and find a better person to love.”

  They sat for many minutes in quiet companionship. Finally Niamh murmured, “I was fortunate. Cormac believed in me. In us. He had always loved me.” She looked at her brother and squeezed his hand. “I didn’t have to convince him to care for me. And, in that, you have a harder task.”

  Declan nodded. “Aye, one I’m still tryin’ to determine if it’s worth fightin’ for.”

  “Oh, ’tis worth it, Declan. You’ve known, long before the rest of us, that this life was not meant to be lived alone. You deserve to be happy with a woman who is proud to stand beside you. And for you to be proud to be beside her.” She rose, kissing his head again. “I’m so glad you’re home, Dec.”

  * * *

  Lorena stirred, her eyes weighted down, as though by heavy rocks. She struggled, fighting her way through the mist, until she cracked open her eyes, staring at the walls in the bedroom she shared with her sister and Maggie. A gentle light spilled in through the window, and a soft breeze ruffled the yellow curtains. Closing her eyes, she knew instinctively she was safe and began to slip back into sleep.

  A loud snore jarred her awake, and she frowned at the unexpected noise. A snore? She turned her head with eyes slit open to gape at the sight of Declan asleep in Maggie’s bed. He was on his side, with a pillow tucked up against his chest. “What are you doing here?” she breathed, gasping at the pain in her throat. Unbidden, a coughing fit overcame her, and she leaned on one arm, panting for breath.