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

by Flightner, Ramona

  Declan sat back, grimacing, as he forgot about his injury and sat with too much force against his healing scar. “I can see why she would be worried, but she must know by now that’s now how we are.” He paused when his father stared at him, as though waiting for him to fit together pieces of a puzzle. “Has her uncle spoken with her lately?” He canted forward, his fingers tapping an irritated tattoo on his father’s desktop.

  Seamus smiled with pleasure at his son’s astuteness. “Aye. Just this mornin’ Chaffee spoke with the lass. Believes he can influence her, now that she’s destitute.”

  Swearing under his breath, Declan bowed his head forward. “That’s all she needed to hear. She was already worried about being a pauper. Worried we’d see her as a burden.” He stared at his father.

  Leaning back in his chair, Seamus studied his son. “What do you want to do, my lad?”

  Shrugging, Declan stared out the side window. “I don’t know. I care for her, Da. I won’t lie.” He closed his eyes. “And my heart feels as though burstin’ at the sight of her carin’ for wee Gavin.” He looked at his father with fathomless emotions in his gaze. “But I … ’Tis too soon.”

  A long silence ensued, where the quiet conversation of Niall and Kevin trickled in from the warehouse. Seamus shifted again in his chair. “What are you to do, my boy?” He waited, as Declan stared at him. “You’ve taken little interest in workin’ in the warehouse again, and now the bookstore’s burned to the ground.”

  Declan nodded. Taking a long breath, he whispered, “How many children live in town?”

  A proud glint filled Seamus’s gaze. “At most, a few dozen.”

  “Would the town pay for a teacher?” he whispered, staring at his father with nascent hope. “I … I believe I’d be good at it, Da.”

  Smiling, Seamus nodded. “Aye, you would. But there’s the matter of fundin’ a school. And convincing the townsfolk that ’tis worth sendin’ children to school.”

  “You always ensured we had some schooling, teaching us all you could,” Declan said. “You instilled a desire to always learn more.”

  “In you, perhaps,” Seamus said, with a wry chuckle. “You were always the most curious and always wanted to read more and more.” He sighed. “I did what I could, lad, but I know you could have learned more, had you had proper schooling.”

  After a long moment of silence, Seamus mused, “You wouldn’t have a school year-round, and the wages would be meager. But if you had a school and a bookstore …” Seamus lifted a brow, as he tossed a paperweight from palm to palm, while he studied his son. “That could be a fine business. Perhaps begin as a tutor to a few of the children in town, while we allow the idea of a school to bloom. Sometimes these things must take root to flourish.”

  Flushing, Declan rubbed at the back of his neck. “Now you’re assumin’ I’ll formalize my association with Lorena.”

  Seamus’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “And why shouldn’t you, Dec?” He sobered when he saw his son fidget across from him. “Declan, is there somethin’ more botherin’ you?”

  “Aye,” Declan murmured. “I should have said something after I spoke with A.J., when Winnifred slapped Lorena. But I was too focused on Lorena. I can’t allow my concern for Lorena to distract me from the threat to Maggie.”

  “Maggie,” Seamus breathed, leaning forward. “What threat?” He cocked his head to one side, as his muscles coiled and bunched, ready to strike at a hidden adversary at any moment.

  Nodding, Declan spoke in a soft voice. “Both A.J. and the Madam have told me that they’ve heard rumblings that Jacques is plannin’ to return.” He clenched his jaw a moment before rasping, “A.J. had heard the weasel planned to steal her away.” At Seamus’s growl of displeasure, Declan shook his head. “Nay, Da, ’tis worse than that.”

  “Worse?” Seamus hissed. “How can anythin’ be worse than havin’ our wee Maggie stolen from us?” He paled when he saw the desperation and fear in his son’s gaze. “He wouldn’t,” he breathed.

  “Aye,” Declan whispered. “The Madam said she heard that, if he can’t steal her away, he’d ensure no one else ever had the pleasure of her company.”

  “He’d kill my wee babe?” Seamus asked. Slamming his hands on his desk, he rose to his full height, his eyes gleaming with defiance and determination. “Nay, he’ll never have the chance.” Taking a deep breath, he looked to Declan. “Dunmore said Jacques is in a mining town, near Cataract Creek.” At Declan’s curious stare, he muttered, “A fair distance from Helena but not as far as Virginia City.”

  “He could leave there at any moment, Da. Return here.”

  “Aye,” Seamus murmured. “We’ve always known that to be true. I’d hoped his fascination with Maggie had waned during the past two years.” He sighed and lowered his head to his hands, as he sat down. “How am I to tell your mum? Tell Maggie?”

  Declan rubbed a thumb over his jaw, as he listened to Niall whistling. “Wait until Dunmore’s back. Then we should have a meeting. With him and A.J. and the Madam.”

  Seamus nodded. “Aye. We have to prepare. For no one threatens our family.”

  * * *

  Declan walked to the edge of the small stream that fed into the Missouri. This had been the O’Rourke thinking spot since they had arrived in town, even when the stream was little more than a trickle. Today, a small amount of water tumbled over rocks, causing a soothing lullaby sound. He attempted to focus on nature. On the birds flitting from branch to branch. On anything other than Lorena. However, that proved impossible.

  His arms ached from the memory of holding her and yearned to hold her again. His face craved the sensation of her silky hair teasing and tickling his skin again, while breathing in the subtle scents of roses mixed with soap. Unbidden, he longed for the sense of peace he had felt with her.

  Although he had just met her a month ago, he felt like he had known her much longer. As though they had met in another time and were now finally deepening their friendship. He battled back resentment that he had not met her in Saint Louis before she departed for Fort Benton. That he had somehow been spared the heartbreak of Magnolia, yet not the love of Gavin. He shook his head at his roiling thoughts. For if he had met Lorena rather than Magnolia, how very different would his life be now?

  He closed his eyes, the comforting sound of the creek blocking out everything else around him, and he envisioned what he could have. A home with a woman whose eyes lit up at the sight of him. A home where there was laughter, passion, and respect. Where the comfort and joy he felt in her store was a daily part of his life. He sighed.

  He thought about his conversation with his father. Why shouldn’t he formalize his association with the woman who fascinated him? He took a deep stuttering breath as he admitted he was terrified of suffering again. Of experiencing a far deeper pain than anything he’d felt with Magnolia. For this time he knew and liked Lorena. She wasn’t a dream he’d fabricated. With a groan, he rubbed at his forehead.

  “What bothers you, Declan?”

  He spun, blinking a few times, as he stared at Lorena standing behind him in a simple light-green dress that highlighted the brilliance of her red hair and enhanced the green of her eyes. “Lorena,” he breathed, as though he had conjured her.

  “Yes,” she said with a wry smile. “Are you well?”

  He cleared his throat and shrugged, pointing toward the creek. “I was enjoying the day.”

  “You looked as though you were having a waking dream, as your father would say.” She flushed when he stared at her intently. “I don’t mean to pry.”

  “Are you well, lass?” His gaze roved over her, as though searching for concealed injuries.

  She lifted and lowered her shoulders, her arms wrapped around herself in a protective manner. “I’m well. As well as can be expected now that my business is …” She bit off the bitter words that threatened to spill out. “None of that.” She turned to face him with a brilliant smile that did little to conceal the desperation, fear,
and despair enveloping her. “I’ve a proposition.”

  He stilled, his muscles tightening in foreboding. “Proposition?”

  She smiled brightly, as though she had come up with the most brilliant plan. “Yes.” She swiped a hand down her skirts and then met his gaze again. “I know I don’t have much to offer, but I … I’m good with Gavin, and we have interesting conversations. I’m a decent cook, and I can sew a straight line. And I think you and I are friends.”

  Declan frowned at her portrayal of herself. “Aye?” He tilted his head to one side, as he studied her. “All that you say is true, except the part about you not having much to offer.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and huffed out a breath. “Marry me, Declan. Let me be your wife.”

  “What?” He scratched at his head and backed up a step, nearly tumbling backward into the creek. Lorena reached forward, gripping his arm and tugging him forward. They stumbled and tumbled to the ground, him landing beside her. “Ouch,” he muttered as he landed awkwardly, so as not to crush her, pulling the healing scar on his back, feeling as though it had torn open.

  She rested beside him, her eyes closed, her face the perfect picture of absolute misery, although no tears fell. She did not lean in to him or attempt to garner any comfort from his nearness. “I’m sorry. All I do is cause pain.”

  “Lo,” he whispered, “you know that’s not true.” He paused, waiting for her reply. When she remained quiet, he asked, “Why aren’t you crying an’ keenin’ an’ screamin’ at fate for what’s occurred? Why are you so composed?”

  “Nothing ever comes from strong emotions,” she whispered. “Except a headache and regret.”

  He chuckled, smiling at her tenderly when she opened her eyes to glare at him. His fingers played over her jaw. “Nay,” he continued in a soft voice. “They help. They prove we are alive. That we aren’t afraid to be among the livin’.” His eyes clouded. “No matter how much you wish otherwise, love, you feel. We all feel.” He paused and shook his head, his gaze now sorrowful. “I will not be used to improve your opinion of yourself.”

  “No!” she gasped, reaching forward to hold his arm and to prevent him from rising. “That’s not it at all. I … I owe your father—” She broke off with a gasp, when he pushed up and strode away a few paces, swearing under his breath. “That’s not it at all,” she pleaded, tears now leaking out. “Please, listen.”

  “What is it, Lorena?” he asked in a defeated voice, his head bowed, as he stared away from her toward town. “That you want to marry me out of desperation? Pity? Duty?” He looked back at her with his eyes ablaze. “Is there any feelin’ in you at all?”

  She abruptly pushed herself up, striding to him with her skirts whipping around her ankles. “Of course there is!” she snapped. “But I don’t want to feel! I never want to feel again!” She held a hand to her mouth, as her eyes rounded in shock at her admission. “Declan, please.”

  “So you’d trap me in a loveless marriage, just so I’d have a woman to play mother to wee Gavin?” he murmured. “How can you not understand I want so much more than that?” When she took a step toward him, he backed away. “Nay, Lorena. Leave me be to think.” He spun on his heel and strode toward town.

  * * *

  “Ah, sonny, it seems your woman has you tied up in knots,” A.J. said, as he settled on a crate beside Declan a few hours later. He sat, staring out at the timeless flow of the Missouri and the cliffs on the other side of the river. The sun shone on them, and they glowed a rich sandy yellow.

  “She’s not my woman,” Declan said sullenly.

  Laughing, A.J. tapped his knee. “Well, if she ain’t yours, she ain’t no one else’s. She’s as prickly as a porcupine, except for when she’s with you. Can’t see her takin’ a shine to another anytime soon.” He looked at Declan. “When’s the last time you chatted until you were hearse?”

  “I ain’t dead,” Declan muttered, before huffing out a laugh. “Hoarse. And I was never hoarse with her. We chatted, aye, but it wasn’t anything remarkable.”

  A.J. sat working on his pipe, before taking a long pull on it. “Nothin’ remarkable, sonny?” he asked with an incredulous lift of one eyebrow. “You chattered away with her for hours on end about every topic known to man. An’ she matched your wits an’ your curiosity. Tell me when you’ve found another woman who’s managed to do that.”

  Declan glared at A.J. “She feels guilty about the store. She sees marryin’ me as a way to ease the debt owed my father.”

  A long silence ensued, where A.J. sat muttering to himself, as his jaw intermittently clamped down on his pipe. Finally he said, “Did you ever consider that’s what she tells herself, so she ain’t so afraid at her desire to wed you?” A.J.’s dark-brown eyes glowed with frank intelligence, as he met Declan’s gaze.

  “What have I ever done to scare her?”

  Huffing out a snort of laughter, A.J. slapped his hand against his leg. “Oh, sonny, you don’t understand women at all. I barely understand ’em, but you’re a babe in the manger, as the preacher would say.” He sighed, as he scratched at his head. “It’s obvious to anyone who looks that she lost someone she loved. Why wouldn’t she be afraid of losin’ you too?” A.J. shrugged.

  “How is it obvious?” Declan asked.

  “Hidin’ her life away in books. Keepin’ herself apart, even when she’s in a horde of O’Rourkes. Never believin’ your parents’ acceptance of her into your family.” A.J. puffed on his pipe, watching white pelicans swoop and soar over the Missouri. “I know it might feel that way, sonny, but you don’t have a monopoly on heartache.”

  Declan heaved out a breath, his shoulders slouched over. “I don’t want to be used. Not again.”

  “Well, I’d be tellin’ her that, not me,” the older man said, as he stood, slapping Declan on his shoulder. “Last I saw, she was headin’ into your brother’s café.”

  Declan nodded his thanks, spending a few more moments in quiet contemplation, before rising to walk to the café. Rather than enter the front and have to visit with the patrons, he circled around back. He paused on the top step, closing his eyes, as he listened to two women singing in perfect harmony.

  Poking his head around the side of the door, he saw Deirdre—standing with her eyes closed, her hands submerged in a bowl of dough as she sang—while Lorena stood at the sink, scrubbing a pot, her voice the perfect counterpoint to Deirdre’s. When they finished, Declan blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

  Lorena spun to face him, her eyes widening in shock. “Deirdre needed help, and I have little to occupy my time right now.” She shrugged and turned back to the sink.

  He shot a quick glance in his sister-in-law’s direction, ignoring her curious smile. “Lorena, I need to speak with you. Can the dishes wait a few more minutes, Deirdre?” At Deirdre’s softly murmured assent, Lorena hissed out her discontent, before following Declan outside.

  When he moved in the direction of the stream, she stopped, her hands on her hips. “Why are we returning there?”

  He faced her, motioning for her to join him. When she stood beside him, he walked at a slower pace, so they could walk together. “I want privacy, and few venture to the stream.”

  After they arrived, he stared into the tumbling water for so long that she huffed out an aggrieved breath. “I’ll return to help Deirdre.”

  “No!” Declan grabbed her hand. “No. We need to talk.” He looked deeply into her eyes that were more guarded than he’d ever seen them. “You don’t trust me anymore,” he breathed.

  She pushed at his chest, propelling him back a step. “You don’t want me!”

  Smiling, he reached out a hand to caress her cheek, before dropping it and standing solemnly in front of her. “’Tisn’t true.” He made a conciliatory gesture. “Not entirely true.” He waited for her to calm, as he gazed into her beautiful eyes. “I don’t want you if you’re acting out of guilt or a sense of indebtedness to my family. I don’t want you if, … if you feel not
hing for me.” His eyes shone with his sincerity and the hope he could not hide.

  She gaped at him, unconsciously taking a step toward him. “Declan, I never meant …” She broke off what more she would have said before whispering, “I never meant to make you feel superfluous. I never thought to meet a man like you. A man who could be a true friend.” She had looked down, missing his wince at her calling him a friend. “I always thought I’d go through life alone.”

  “Well, then, lass, your first proposal was a bit shabby. Would you care to try to improve it?” He grinned, as she giggled at his teasing.

  She paused for a long moment, gathering her thoughts, before taking a deep breath. She let it out, as she firmed her shoulders, meeting his hopeful gave. “Declan O’Rourke, I’m terrified of feeling again.” She faltered as she looked into his penetrating gaze. “But I realize I already do,” she admitted on a soft whisper. “I care for you and Gavin.” She reached forward, when he shifted with unease. “I don’t speak because I only want Gavin in my life. How can you doubt my sincerity after all our conversations? All the laughter we’ve shared?” She waited until she saw him nod in understanding. “There are things I must tell you but not yet.”

  “Aye, Lo,” he said in a low voice, “as there is much you don’t yet understand about me.”

  “When I learned you’d been injured, saving me from the fire …” Her voice broke off, and she blinked away tears. “I never considered myself worthy of such concern.”

  “Ah, lass,” he rasped, as he took a step forward, and cupped her jaw with one of his large hands. “You know you are. To me.”

  “So I’m learning,” she whispered, as she moved her face, so his fingers slid over her cheek. “I won’t promise to be a good wife. I know I’ll disappoint you. But I’m loyal and true.”

  “Will you pine for another while you are with me?” he asked.

  She stared at him with shadows and fears in her gaze. “I pine for no living man.”