The Blessed Bride

by Lynn Winchester

  To war, Pati! Ye must win!

  It was his turn to plant his hands on his hips, except that his hips were home to matching guns in worn, brown leather holsters. They looked right there, like they were always meant to grace his hips. Like he was always meant to be dangerous.

  “Mr. Winslet said I should come by and see if you needed anything.” His voice seemed to come from down deep, his words not his own. He didn’t want to be there, he’d been ordered to come see her.

  “I need for nothing, thank you, Mr. Jones,” she replied, her chin tipped up.

  His dark eyes scanned her, then the pile of clothes on the porch, then the room behind her in the cabin. “I can see that, Miss O’Connor.” Pati couldn’t believe it—was that the hint of a smile? Had the very edge of his mouth twitched upward? It had happened so quickly, Pati wasn’t sure she’d seen correctly. It couldn’t have been a smile. Pete Jones never smiled. The man’s mouth—while looking surprisingly soft yet firm, and much too kissable for a man such as him—was made of taut piano wire. He couldn’t smile lest his whole face snap in twain.

  “If that’s everything, I’ll get back to work. Tell Mr. Winslet he need not worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She’d proven it time and again the last ten months, what was another seven months? She’d finish her time in California, then get on the first steamer to Liverpool. It wasn’t too far to Cork after that.

  And yet, Cork seemed so far away, indeed.

  “’Fraid I can’t do that, Miss O’Connor,” the dark-eyed, brooding man said, his low voice taking on a hint of humor. The lout was enjoying her discomfort! Anger flared within her, filling her neck and cheeks with heat.

  “And why not?” she barely choked out around the words she really wanted to say. In that moment, she wondered if the goon knew Gaelic. She could curse him to Samhain and back, and he’d never know it.

  “Mr. Winslet has decided that you are much too important to the town to leave you out here without protection. He’s added your shop to my daily rounds…”

  Daily rounds? But that would mean—

  “That means I’ll be here every day, around the same time, to check on you.” He said it as if he’d just swallowed a cup of vinegar.

  She let out an unladylike snort and crossed her arms. “Can’t you send someone else to do it? I can tell you’d rather kick a broken bottle barefooted than come see me every day.”

  There! That was a smile…at least the barest glimpse of one. She blinked, unable to believe she’d seen it.

  “Well, it isn’t up to me, Miss O’Connor. If it were, I’d gladly send Ben here to check on you,” he replied, his face pinching into a grimace at his own mention of sweet Benjamin—a man who’d come to see her at Winslet House twice that week. But, if Pete Jones didn’t like Ben, why did he mention him at all? Surely there were other guards to send. And why did she need a guard at all? The cabin was far enough away from the town proper that she didn’t get much of the riff-raff from the saloon—not that Ellie allowed much of that, and she wasn’t so close to the mine that she was bothered by the men as they walked to and from their work. The cabin was the perfect place set up her shop and work in solitude and quiet, and she didn’t need anyone, especially someone forced into it, to come and bother her every day.

  “Why send anyone at all? I think you should tell Mr. Winslet I’ll be fine on my own. I needn’t his worry nor to waste your time.” She turned, dismissing Mr. Pete Jones with a flip of her wrist. But he caught her wrist, pulling her back around to face him.

  She gasped, looking up and up and up. Lord, but he was tall. That quickly, he’d grabbed her and come to stand on the porch with her. And he was much too close…much too large. A flush flew into her face, and she tried to pull her wrist from his strong grip.

  “Get yer paws off me this instant!” Her Irish accent, her longtime companion, came out, a weapon wielded when her dander was high—like when oafs manhandled her!

  He let go of her, as if she were made of fire.

  “Mr. Winslet was adamant about you having someone come by to check on you. And since the man owns everything from the mountain over there to the hills over there, I am obliged to do as he says. Believe me, I am as happy about it as you are, but it’s my duty.” Stunned at the passion in his last words, Pati was speechless as Pete Jones turned his back on her and strode away, a cloak of darkness draped over him.

  What’s happened ta ye, Mr. Payter Jones? And why can’t I stop thinkin’ about ye?

  “That’s the last one, Pete. The Western Mine is all closed up for the night,” Reuben said, tromping over the porch and into the mine security building where Pete was finishing up the last of the paperwork. Miner shifts, incident reports, supplies lists—while his official title was Mine Security Officer, his job included everything from putting down disputes to ordering more mining picks and head lamps. He didn’t mind the extra work, it filled his hours with purpose. It was the nights that made him uneasy. Nights were filled with memories capable of felling a man, and the echoes of voices from men long dead. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He was lonely.

  He’d like to think of himself as a man who needed for nothing, especially finer company. But he’d been so long without anyone, he couldn’t even hold a conversation with Miss O’Connor—not that she made conversing all that easy, either. He felt his lip twitch with the desire to smile…she’d been a firecracker, her lovely face turning red, her eyes spitting sparks…it was no wonder he’d reached out to touch her, even if it was just her wrist.

  Her skin was as soft as a calf’s, and as warm as the morning sun. And, she’d come just up to his chin—she was a small woman in stature, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in fire.

  He liked stoking fires.

  When a loud cough sounded, Pete remembered Reuben had come in and spoken to him. He cleared the lump of longing in his throat.

  “Thank you, Reuben. Please remind Ben he has the shift tonight.”

  “Yup,” Reuben replied, tipping his hat and heading back out, more than likely to the saloon where he’d get good and drunk before ever heading back to the cabin he shared with Ben. Which meant Pete would have to make sure Ben remembered he was on shift to do security rounds of the mines from ten until three, when Travis would come on for the three to eight shift.

  It didn’t take long to get to the cabin Reuben and Ben shared. But Pete spent the time getting there thinking about how comfortable Ben and Miss O’Connor looked together that first day. Ben was grinning like a fool, Miss O’Connor was smiling pleasantly. As soon as he entered the room, the very air had thickened. It was like his presence was about as welcome as whooping cough.

  Not surprising, Ben and Reuben’s cabin was empty. Pulling his watch from his vest pocket, he checked the time. Nearing six. Ben was probably with his brother at the saloon—Reuben drinking and flirting with the ever-patient Ellie, and Ben trying to choke down hard biscuits.

  The interior of the saloon was dark, with dark wood floors, walls, and bar. The tables were scattered around. And the chairs holding up dirty miners with heavy heads, filled up most of the room. Ellie, the owner, was standing behind the bar, chatting with Reuben. Ellie was the only woman in the place, and it was exactly as she wanted it. When he’d first met her, she’d made it clear that she couldn’t tolerate men taking advantage of women, and so she didn’t bring in bawds, as some saloons did. Pete made his way to the two people at the bar, eager to finish this business and get back to the security office. His home. His lonely home.

  “Ellie,” he greeted her, nodding to the woman before turning to Reuben. “Any chance you reminded your brother about his shift before you came here?”

  Reuben’s eyebrows dipped over his blurry eyes, and his shoulders slumped in the gesture of shame. “Nah. I forgot.”

  Grunting, he pushed away from the bar. He should have known better than to expect Reuben to do anything when his thoughts were always on Ellie, even though Ellie didn’t care a dog’s h
air about Reuben. “By any chance, do you know where your brother is?”

  Reuben nodded, an eager to please expression on his flushed face. “He’s been going to Winslet House every night this week.”

  Surprised by the answer, a trill of warning pulsed through him. “Winslet House? Why?”

  Reuben shrugged. “Can’t say. Maybe he really likes Millie’s cooking.”

  Pete arched an eyebrow, not entirely convinced Reuben knew nothing. “Yeah, that could be it…”

  With another nod to Ellie, who was trying her best to keep a smile on her face, Pete left the saloon, headed toward the hill where Winslet House sat.

  It didn’t take him long to get within sight of it. When he was close enough, he could see two people sitting on the porch with their heads together.

  He’d found Ben…and he’d found out why Ben had been to Winslet House every night. Miss O’Connor. The two of them were sitting awfully close, laughing, and the sound of their merriment sent flames of anger from his boots to his scalp.

  Swearing under his breath, he turned on his heel to leave, but not before Miss O’Connor looked up…right at him. He felt the power of her green-eyed gaze hit his chest like a cannonball. His breath left his body in a rush, and he suddenly didn’t care that Ben needed reminding of his shift. He’d take that shift; leave Ben to romance Miss O’Connor to his heart’s content. Pete didn’t care. She’s trouble. I don’t need trouble.

  He could feel her eyes bore into him as he walked away.

  Chapter 9

  Pati watched the sun set over the hills, lighting the town ablaze for but a moment before it disappeared until the Lord beckoned for it again. She’d been in Blessings for eight days, but it still felt foreign to her. Cork wasn’t just a world away in reality, it was a world away in practicality as well. Back home, long before her journey had begun, she was comfortable in the small cottage she’d shared with her parents for eighteen years. Once she’d reached her majority, she decided to move to London and begin schooling to be a governess; her dream to be hired on by a wealthy British family, where she’d find fulfillment teaching the next generation of women. But that wasn’t meant to be. Less than two months into her final term, her ma had died. Grieving, she was torn between going home to be with her da and staying to finish out the term—she was so close to realizing everything she’d thought she’d wanted. Her ma would’ve told her to stay, to finish, to become what she was meant to become. And so, she stayed in London.

  And that’s when everything turned to rubbish in her hands.

  Pati had written home to her da, letting him know she missed him and would be home at the end of the term to spend time with him. But she never heard back. She didn’t allow herself to worry. Da was a grown man. He would be fine on his own. And besides, she had other things to worry about, she had a life to live…

  It wasn’t until she’d returned home that she realized the depths of her mistake. Her da was gone, leaving behind only a letter telling her he was off to America to make his fortune—and she felt the pain of his choice like a knitting needle to the heart. He’d gone…and she hadn’t been there for him when he needed her, when he needed someone to talk him out of his foolish plan.

  And so, here she was, standing at the window, overlooking a town that would be her home for the next however many months, and wondering what she’d done to upset Peter Jones, the one man she shouldn’t have thought twice about. But, no matter how many times she pushed the memories of his rugged face from her mind, she couldn’t keep them at bay. And when he’d shown up that evening, it was as if her thoughts had conjured him from the coming darkness. She braced herself for another confrontation between him and Ben—silly she actually found herself looking forward to hearing his voice…of being close to him. But he had turned and left without a single word.

  Why had he even come in the first place? And why did he leave?

  Payter Jones, yer’re a puzzle I’d rather toss than solve, but I can’t stop myself from thinkin’ on ye—the more fool I am for it!

  “What’s got you frownin?” Gasping, Pati turned; she’d been so caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard Millie approaching. “You keep pinchin’ your brow like that, you’ll end up with a crease in your face,” Millie said, sagely.

  Though her thoughts were less than pleasant, she smiled. She liked Millie more every moment; the woman was lively, kind, and an amazing cook. Millie would do amazing things to lamb.

  “I was thinking about my da, and about how everything went wrong,” Pati answered honestly. There was no use in keeping things from Millie, she seemed the type to see through facades and right to the heart of the issue.

  Millie clicked her tongue and took Pati’s hand, patting it.

  “Come into the kitchen with me. You talk and I’ll knead the dough for bread.”

  Nodding, Pati followed behind Millie who hadn’t released Pati’s hand. The kitchen was small but cozy, and it always smelled delicious. Sighing in pleasure, Pati waited for Millie to release her hand and reach into the flour bin beside her.

  “Go on, girl. Tell Auntie Millie what’s got you so twisted up.” Millie sprinkled flour over the top of the small kitchen table and pulled the dough ball from the bowl. As Pati watched, the older woman with remarkably strong hands and arms began kneading the dough ball energetically.

  “Well, go on. Don’t hold your tongue,” Millie said without looking up from her task.

  Another sigh escaped Pati’s lips. “I should have gone home when my ma died, but I stayed in London. When I finally got back to Cork, my da had left for America. His letter said he wanted to find his fortune—whatever that meant. I knew that he was hurting; he thinks I abandoned him in his grief…” A sob caught in her throat, and Millie glanced up from the dough ball to give Pati a stern look.

  “And you think blamin’ yourself and runnin’ after him is gonna make everythin’ better?” Millie sounded incredulous, and Pati didn’t blame her. She’d known she was a fool for following her da, but to have someone else say it so plainly made her insides coil.

  “If I’d been there when Ma died, I could’ve talked him out of going. I could have been the voice of reason.”

  Millie punched the dough and pierced Pati with hazel eyes so clear that Pati could see straight to Millie’s thoughts. “What about your sorrow? Aren’t you allowed to grieve? Would you have been able to think clear enough to give him the answers to the questions he was obviously askin’ himself?”

  Could she have truly talked her da out of leaving Ireland for his harebrained odyssey in the Americas? She knew her da was an O’Connor through and through; stubborn, prideful, impulsive. As realization dawned, she felt the floor beneath her shift.

  No. Her da would have left whether she was there or not. His decision to leave might have been helped along by her absence, but something had happened to him after her ma’s death that had made his journey necessary.

  Oh Da…ye could have let me help ye…

  Millie punched the dough again and peered at Pati without missing a beat. “There now…I can see from the look on your face that you finally know what I’m sayin’.”

  “What are you sayin’?” Neither of them had heard the front door open or the footfalls along the floorboards, but in walked the striking red-haired woman Pati had first seen on her first day in Blessings.

  “Ellie! What are you doin’ away from the saloon? You trustin’ those dirt diggers to keep their lips off your whiskey?” Millie’s smile was bright and lopsided, and Ellie returned the smile. Suddenly, Pati felt out of place…she wasn’t a part of Blessings, so the familiarity between the two women, while feeling right for them, was awkward for her.

  Ellie’s laughter was rich and husky. It sent a welcoming warmth through Pati, a warmth she’d been missing since leaving London.

  “Nah. Atherton is there keepin’ an eye on the place.”

  Millie’s eyebrow shot up. “Winnie? What’s he doin’ there? The man hasn’t had a dr
ink since ’32 when he tried my brother’s hooch and nearly went toes up from the smell of it.”

  That made Pati’s eyebrows shoot up. If Millie’s brother’s hooch was that strong, she knew her da would appreciate it.

  Ellie waved off Millie’s assumptions. “He came in, lookin’ grieved. Told me there were two ladies in his house and he needed the space to think. Then he told me I should come and lend my ear. Since I’ve been hearin’ a lot about you, Miss O’Connor, I figured I’d come on up here and meet you proper.” Without hesitation, Ellie stuck out her hand. Pati blinked down at it but then took it, and they shook. Ellie was stronger than her petite size would suggest—much like Millie.

  “I know we spoke when you first got into town, but you looked like somethin’ that dragged itself from a rat’s nest. So I wondered why Ben kept flappin’ his gums about you all over town.” Shocked, Pati gasped. Ben had been talking about her? What had he been saying about her? It was no wonder Peter Jones had glared at her and Ben out there on the porch.

  Heat bloomed in her neck, flowing into her cheeks.

  “I don’t know what he could be saying. We’re are only friends.”

  “Now don’t get yer knickers in a knot, girl. He hasn’t been sayin’ nothin’ wrong, just talkin’ about how pretty and sweet you are, and how he wouldn’t mind you stickin’ around town for a bit. That’s all.”

  Since coming into town, Ben Baird had been the only one to seek her out. When she wasn’t in her da’s shanty, she was working in her shop, and when she wasn’t working, she was with Millie. She ate most of her meals with the Winslets and, every night, as if called in with a dinner bell, Ben showed up on the porch, asking if there was an empty seat at their table. There always was, and Millie loved feeding him, and so she’d spent every evening with Ben. He was a smart and interesting man, and she found that he was a good enough distraction from her troubles, at least for a few hours. But that night, when she’d seen that angry look on Peter Jones’ face, she wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.