Finn's Fortune

by Kathleen Ball

  He tightened his arms around her to comfort her. “How long had you been married?”

  “Not long. We met on a wagon train coming to Oregon. I don’t even know who to notify. He said he was alone in the world.”

  Finn turned her toward the direction of his fire. “Come let’s get you warm while I take care of your mule.” He seated her on a wooden crate and handed her a cup of coffee. Then he took the mule and led her to the stream. He’d brought a bucket and brush with him and gave her a bath. She brayed and brayed, but finally she was clean.

  He glanced at Maureen and she looked to be breathing even again. Sitting next to her, he took her hand in his. “I’m so sorry for your loss, lass.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. It’s bad timing but I’ll be able to get along just fine.”

  Bad timing? Perhaps hers wasn’t a love match. Many married for convenience. It was a lot of work to make a home, and two were better than one. She wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. He tended to be too helpful and often left himself without. Not this time. This time he was going to make his fortune right here in Oregon. The soil was rich, there seemed to be mavericks aplenty to make a decent herd, and he had Justice to sire any mares he caught. He had more here than he’d ever had and the possibilities were endless.

  “Was there any sign of the squatters? It’s strange that people would squat when there was free land to be had.” She stiffened.

  “That’s what Malcolm said. Now hearing it from you, it doesn’t make much sense does it? He wasn’t one to lie.”

  “I didn’t say he lied, I’m just curious is all. You dug the grave yourself and buried him? No wonder you look worn to the bone. We need to get this dress off you. It’s mud caked and heavy as all get out.”

  She simply nodded. His heart ached for her loss. What was she going to do out here alone? He sighed. It wasn’t his problem.

  It became his problem as soon as he got her to her wagon. She needed help getting the weighted dress off and he had to close his eyes to help. He’d grown up in a big Irish Catholic family and he’d plenty of sisters. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a female in a shift.

  He unbuttoned and helped her get out of the contraption she called a dress. He did have to open his eyes at one point and he gulped. Maureen was no comparison to his sisters. She was a real woman, and the sight of her made his blood run hot. He went and got her some heated water from his fire and gave it to her along with a clean cloth.

  “Let me know if you need anything. Do you want me to search for the horse in the morning?”

  “He’ll come home eventually. Most horses do.” Her voice was so weary he decided to drop the subject.

  He waited until she was finished and in her nightclothes. “Let’s get you some food.”

  She began to climb out of the wagon when he scooped her up and carried her to his fire. “I think I’ll have to make a better bridge for us to cross. Three logs tied together isn’t the best.”

  “It was here when we got here. We came in from the other direction so we had no need to cross it,” she said in a low voice.

  He put her down on a crate and then handed her a plate of food.

  She gave him a faint smile. “You got yourself a deer after all.”

  “Venison is my favorite. There’s plenty for the both of us.”

  Her gaze flew to his face and she shook her head. “I can make it on my own. I’m not your worry.”

  Finn didn’t answer her. She had no idea what it took to make it out here with winter biting at their heels. If her husband had any smarts he would have started a cabin on the first day. Not his worry? Who was she trying to convince? Him or herself? He’d have to watch her freeze to death all winter. She probably didn’t have enough provisions either. He wished he could give her a reassuring smile, but he just couldn’t. For all he knew she was a shrew, a pretty one but a shrew just the same.

  He couldn’t afford to have anyone getting close to him. He might have to run at a moment’s notice. He’d been too proud to change his last name from Langley and he hoped he wouldn’t have reason to regret it. The Langley name was known for honesty, generosity, and fierce fighting against the British. He inwardly groaned. He’d have to work twice as hard and get two structures up by winter.

  He frowned. That wouldn’t work either. It would be near impossible to make two cabins before the first snow. She needed to go back to town. Surely, she’d made some friends on her long trek to Oregon. One of them would take her in. Men would be lining up to get a hold of her property. It was one of the better ones.

  He gazed back at her. Would she take the first offer? He didn’t fancy beating a man to pulp if he laid a wrong hand on her. “I’ll take you to town tomorrow so you can make arrangements.”

  Her jaw dropped and her brow furrowed. “Arrangements?”

  “Yes. You can find someone to stay with. It’s not safe for you on your own. I wish I had the time to help you, but I barely have time to get a cabin up for myself.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger as she stood up. She put one hand on her hip. “I told you I can make it on my own, and I plan to do just that. I don’t need to make other arrangements.” She shoved her plate at him then stormed off across the bridge and climbed into her wagon.

  He sighed. Of all the women in the world, why had he ended up next to the most stubborn of them all? He’d give her time to grieve and come to her senses before he insisted on taking her back to town. By then she’d be practically begging him to get her to a safe place for the winter.

  Chapter Two

  Though the days were getting crisp, sweat formed on her forehead, and she had to stop to wipe it away. Dragging logs was hard work, but she only had this last one to deal with. Every day she spied on Finn to see what he was doing, and she did the same. Not at the same pace, but she memorized what needed to be done.

  He had his walls almost built up and she’d yet to start but she had enough logs. She wasn’t as tall as Finn was so she decided to make her cabin shorter. He’d offered to help once, but she turned him down. Now he only offered to take her back to town.

  No matter how hard she had to work, she was going to be free. If a person thought they owned another, they tried to take every advantage and a woman could hardly say no. She’d run before she’d been disgraced, but looking over her shoulder wasn’t complete freedom.

  She felt a moment of triumph when she put the last log with the others. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. Next was to lay out the cabin. She dragged the logs into a small square shape and then took a step back to admire her work.

  “Looks good!” A man’s voice boomed.

  She spun around and was alarmed to see a rather big man on a chestnut horse riding in her direction.

  “The name is Cleary. John Cleary, your brother-in-law. I’m looking for Malcolm. Surprised I was, to learn of his marriage. Looks like he picked out a nice piece of land.”

  She furrowed her brow. What was this man playing at? There wasn’t a Malcolm. Somehow, this man knew it. She studied him a bit. Now what?

  John dismounted and smiled at her. “Where is that brother of mine?”

  “I think you’ve made a mistake. My Malcolm didn’t have any relations.”

  “In America. He has plenty in Ireland. I got here as fast as I could when I found I’d just missed him. We always planned to build a horse ranch together.”

  “See, there you go. My Malcolm was a farmer.”

  John frowned and took a step toward her. “Was?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry to say he died about ten days ago.”

  He growled. “You didn’t report his death to the authorities?”

  Maureen took a step back. “I haven’t been able to get to town. I have a cabin to build.”

  “On my land.” He glared at her.

  “Oh no, you’re mistaken. This is my land, and it’s all legal.”

  He took two long strides and put his hand around the front of her throat. “It’s w
hat I say it is. In fact I think poor Malcom would have wanted me to marry you and keep you safe.”

  She gasped for air before he pushed her to the ground and shook his head at her in disgust.

  “What did you say your name was?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Maureen Cleary.” She sat up rubbing her bruised throat. She started to stand but he pushed her again.

  “Where is all the money?” His voice seemed to grow louder with each question.

  “There is no money. We planned to work hard to get the farm going. I really think you have the wrong Malcolm Cleary.”

  “Shut your mouth! I don’t ever want to know what you think. Now, I’m hungry and I expect you to make me something to eat.”

  Her mouth fell open and she stared.

  “Now!” he barked

  Fear coursed through her body. Why hadn’t she learned how to use a gun? She glanced over at Finn’s place, but he wasn’t there. Who was this man? Either he had the wrong Cleary or he was trying to swindle her property from her. It must be the wrong Cleary. It didn’t matter, he needed to leave.

  Her whole body shook as she stood, half waiting for him to knock her down again. She had biscuits to offer but that probably wasn’t what he had in mind. She started the task of getting the fire going and making a stew using meat in a jar she’d purchased from the general store. She threw in small pieces of potatoes and hoped it wouldn’t take too long to cook.

  She didn’t like the gleam in John’s eyes. She should have said Malcolm would be back. There was no help for it now. She wiped her hands on a cloth and walked toward her logs. She dragged few more into place while John stared at her.

  “Did you want to help me out, dear brother-in-law? I bet Malcolm would have wanted you to build my cabin for me. In fact, he would have expected no less from a family member.” She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. For someone supposedly right off the boat, John didn’t have a heavy brogue.

  He didn’t acknowledge her.

  “How is your Aunt Bess getting on? Malcolm was worried about her.”

  “Fine, she’s just fine,” he answered sounding agitated.

  Now she had her answer. He never knew the fictitious Malcolm and the make believe Aunt Bess. Somehow, he knew something, though. So far, he hadn’t accused her of having a fake husband. Relief swept through her at the sound of Finn arriving on Justice.

  He swung down and caught her eye, giving her slight nod as though to let her know he understood she was in distress. “Hello there! I’m Finn Langley, and you are?”

  “John Cleary here. I came to live with my brother, but I hear he’s dead. I’m trying to persuade the little widow here it’s MY duty to marry her now.”

  Finn glanced at her before he sat down across from John. “Where do you hail from, John?”

  John’s lips were pressed into a straight line. “County Mayo, you?”

  “The very same.” He angled his head and studied the newcomer. “I know most of the Clearys there, and I can’t place you. Which is your family?”

  John shifted on the crate he sat on. “There are so many of us, I even have a hard time keeping up with the family.” He gave them a fake laugh.

  “Surely you know Shamus and his wife Maeve. They’re the head of the clan it seemed to me.” Finn smiled conversationally. Maureen was impressed.

  “Did I say Mayo? I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m from Cork.”

  Finn nodded. “I know the Cork Cleary’s too. My ma’s sister married a Cork Cleary. Nice folks all of them.”

  John shook his head and sneered at Finn. “You sure do get around. You must be part of the Fenian scum.” He practically spat at Finn.

  Finn pulled a gun. “Give it up. You’re from the north. I bet you’re protestant too.”

  John laughed. “I recognize the name now. Finnegan Langley. There’s a price on your head.” John pulled out his gun and shot in Finn’s direction.

  Maureen screamed at the gunfire and it was over in a flash. John was dead. She swayed a bit but held on to her wagon wheel. She stared at Finn and he stared back.

  “There is no husband is there?”

  She just shook her head.

  Finn grabbed an oilcloth and wrapped John in it and then lifted him onto the chestnut. “Put a coat on, we’ll need to ride to where you buried your ‘husband.’” He grabbed some gear and tied it up on Justice.

  She could hardly catch her breath. There was a grave but it was empty. “Finn, no one is buried in the grave.”

  He shot her a look of annoyance. “I just figured that one out. Let’s go.”

  She walked toward Contrary and Finn laughed. “She’ll take you in circles. Come on and ride with me. You can fill me in on the lurid details as we ride.”

  She was very careful and gave him only the particulars he needed to know and nothing more. She needed to protect herself. She prayed that her past never came knocking on her door.

  Finn was still reeling from what had just happened at the campfire. No husband? She’d got that one past him easily enough. John wasn’t as lucky. He’d planned to have both Maureen and the land for himself. Somehow, he’d found out she was alone but how? People probably spied on the ones with the better lots of land. Maybe he just wanted Maureen for himself. Now Finn was exposed, just to Maureen but exposed nonetheless. He’d have to think on it.

  It was a bit of a ride to the grave, and the feel of Maureen leaning back against him as they rode awakened something within him that he hadn’t felt for a very long time. It wasn’t just her sweet body; it was all of her. He needed to be careful, or he’d be hogtied to her before he knew it.

  “Why is your neck so red?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did that brute touch you?”

  “You’re squeezing me.”

  He loosened his hold on her. “I’m sorry. What happened to your neck?”

  “He wanted to show me he was the boss and that I was to do whatever he wanted.”

  Finn stiffened. “He didn’t—”

  “No, he didn’t get a chance. You came just in time. How did he know about Malcolm?”

  “I don’t know, lass. We’ll need to be more aware of our surroundings to see who is watching us.”

  She nodded. “Stop. The grave is right there.”

  It looked like a fresh grave all right. He got down then lifted his arms up to help Maureen down. She slid easily into his arms. He laughed. “I hadn’t realized just how wee you are.”

  “It’s you who is abnormally tall.” She smiled back at him. Then, her smile faded. “We have a body to bury.”

  His smile died too. “Yes, lass we do.”

  Her hand covered her mouth for a second. “What if he has friends? What if they know where he went? What if they come looking for him?” Her breathing became ragged.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “One thing at a time. We can’t control anything but burying him right now. No one followed us. I checked as we rode.”

  She shot him a grim look. “You’re right, one thing at a time.”

  Finn grabbed the shovel and began to dig. At least the soil was still loose and it made for easier digging. He paused and took a drink from the tin canteen Maureen handed him. “You certainly dug deep. This grave is huge!”

  “Malcolm was supposed to be a big man. I was afraid you’d want to see the grave. I was in a panic. I really never thought I’d have a neighbor so close to me. I never considered I’d have to produce Malcolm to anyone.” She took the canteen back and seemed to look everywhere except at him.

  He wanted to question her but it wasn’t the time or place. She must have had her reasons. Maybe she was just greedy and wanted 640 acres due a married couple. In reality, he knew nothing about her. She’d be wanting answers too, he supposed. Could he trust her? If she spilled her secret, he’d spill his—maybe.

  He pulled the body off the horse and opened the oilcloth. He checked the man’s pockets and came up with a measly amount of money. Bu
t there wasn’t a clue as to who he really was. Maureen helped him to pull John to the grave and they rolled him into it. Finn made quick work covering the body.

  Next, he checked the saddlebags and came up empty. He slapped the horse on its hind flank and sent him off. “Nice horse.”

  “Yes indeed. Too bad we had to chase him away, but we don’t want anyone to know John was ever here.” Maureen put the makeshift cross she’d made for Malcolm at the head of the grave. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Yes,” Finn said as he gathered up the shovel and oilcloth. He rolled the shovel in the cloth and tied them to the back of his saddle. Next, he easily lifted Maureen onto the saddle and quickly mounted up behind her. “I can’t wait to hear your story when we get back,” he whispered in her ear. She stiffened, and he had a feeling it was going to be a long story.

  Their wagons came into sight and dread filled her. Of course, she couldn’t tell him everything. She wasn’t even sure how to start. John said something about Finn having a price on his head from being a Fenian. She wished she never heard it. Finn might think her a threat.

  She wished she could just ride off, but all she had was Contrary and she’d never make it out of camp with that ornery mule. Finn would find out what a great liar she was and she didn’t want him to look at her that way. She sighed. There was really no hope for it. She just had to remember not to mention his problem; it could get her killed.

  Finn gently lifted her down but this time there were no smiles. His face was grim and her stomach felt as though it was tied into knots.

  She busied herself with building up the fire and putting the coffee on to boil while Finn took care of Justice. She put the beans back on to heat and sat down next to the fire. She had to clasp her hands in front of her on her lap to keep them from shaking. Where to begin? How much to tell him? He could get money by turning her in. Not nearly as much as he was probably worth.

  She gazed at him. No, he wouldn’t turn her in. He fought for the Irish cause so they could be free. He’d understand her plight. Wouldn’t he? She could only hope.