Finn's Fortune

by Kathleen Ball

  “You—” She drew a sharp breath. “You wondered if I was a shrew? Well, have I shown you enough of my true nature now, so you’ve managed to figure it out?”

  “I should say so.” Finn shot her an exaggerated wink. “After all, it’s not every woman who threatens her husband to tear off his arm and feed it to a bear.”

  Heat swamped her face. “That — that was because you…”

  He threw his head back and guffawed. “Put me in my place it did.”

  “So you do think I’m shrewish!”

  “Now, did I say that?” He shook his head. “Have I not told you that you are no shrew?”

  “Well then, how do you see me?” she demanded.

  His chuckle echoed around the clearing as he turned back to cooking without answering.

  How infuriating of him not to answer her question. Not knowing what to say next, she kept quiet, watching Finn. He looked to be cooking with ease and experience. He sure was fine of form. His pants outlined the muscles in his legs. Her face heated as she enjoyed him bending over. Suddenly the cold night was getting uncomfortably warm.

  He often glanced at her and smiled. She was far too vulnerable of his smiles.

  She stood. “I have to… I’ll be right back.” She walked away until she found a tree to lean against. She closed her eyes hoping her heart would stop pounding. It seemed to take forever before the wind felt chilled again. Men were a complete mystery to her. Her father had been a good man but the English soldiers, the sailors, Mr. Jones, all thought a woman was good for one thing and they were all willing to take her virtue by force. She shrugged.

  If her family had been allowed to stay in their home in Ireland she’d probably be married to Sean Murphy by now. It wouldn’t have been her choosing. And she was pretty sure Sean was sweet on Lucy but their parents had made the match long ago. Perhaps she’d dodged a bad marriage the day the soldiers came.

  It was funny how a person’s whole world could change in an instant. She still needed to tell Finn that she’d lied and hadn’t finished her indentureship. He’d think badly of her. Maybe she’d tell him later. Yes later was the better option.

  “Maureen? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m coming.” She was back to normal, but how long would it take before she needed to cool off again?

  As soon as she caught sight of him, her question was answered. Not very long at all.

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks. They’d been married two weeks, and all he’d gotten were a few kisses here and there. He was working on the roof and watching Maureen washing clothes. For him, taking it slow meant two or three days, not two weeks.

  Perhaps she was one of those women who didn’t enjoy being touched too intimately. It was a shame; she was made for loving and touching. He could hardly look at her before his body responded. It wasn’t because he’d been celibate for a while; it was all Maureen. She was beautiful and full of grace, and he couldn’t stop gazing at her delectable lips. Her kindness in her heart shone through in everything she did, and she was funny and intelligent. She knew that they were partners, and she did her share if not more. She was a lass to admire, and he was lucky to have her.

  The house would be done in a few days, and he planned on a wedding night but how to tell her? What if she balked? He sighed as he swung the hammer. He’d build her a house of her own next year if that was the case. He wanted her too much to be around her and not be able to ever touch her.

  He stole another glance, to find her bent over the tub. His breath caught; he could practically see down her dress. Quickly, he looked away. He was a man of integrity, after all. He based his beliefs on what was right and just. He missed Ireland something fierce and wished he was there to continue the fight for a free country. There was still so much to do, but he was on the sidelines now. He still had the passion of a free Ireland inside him and he always would. It was in his blood. But Oregon was his home now.

  He had no way of knowing what was going on. There wasn’t much news out this way. At least he hadn’t been hauled in front of a wall and shot like so many before him had been. The other lads would continue on without him. Maybe someday he’d make enough money to send back to the Fenians. He took a deep breath. For now, he had to get the house done and stop acting like a schoolboy around Maureen.

  According to the Donation Land Claim Act, he had four years to build on and cultivate the land and then it was his. He pictured cattle, horses, and wheat to ensure his fortune. They’d have a large vegetable garden. He’d spend the winter making furniture, and if need be he could sell some. Back in Ireland, he’d been considered a craftsman by many. There were acres and acres of timber waiting for when the growth of the territory happened, and he was sure it would. He also had Maureen. A family would be nice to have. Some wee ones running around. Yes, he could have a good life here, God willing.

  “Are you out of nails?” Maureen yelled up at him.

  He drew his brows together. “What?”

  “You’ve been sitting there for so long, I thought you were out of nails.”

  He chuckled. “No, I was thinking about our future and about all the wee ones we would have.”

  Her face pinked adorably as it softened. “Wee ones would be good.” She turned and walked back to her washtub.

  His jaw dropped and his heart skipped a beat. Wee ones would be good. Had he heard her correctly? Maybe she wanted to make the babies now. He started to gather up his tools and stopped. Of course she didn’t mean right now. This waiting was going to kill him.

  That evening Maureen put on her nightgown that had a pretty pink bow on it. Tonight was the night. Her body shivered in excitement. She’d be a real wife. What if it hurt? She remembered hearing that there was pain involved. Wasn’t there another way to get with child? Her excitement waned. She did like his kisses and when he held her… Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

  She slipped under the quilts. Soon they’d be sleeping in the cabin, but the wagon had been cozy for the two of them. Now what? Did she just wait? Should she say or do something special? Perhaps she’d hold his hand when he came to bed. That would be invitation enough, if he really did want her. The longer she waited, the more nervous she became. She blew out the lamp and her conviction to become a bride waned.

  He sure was taking his sweet time. She stifled a yawn. It seemed as though she’d been alone in the wagon forever. Then it began to rock as he climbed inside. He took off his shirt, and she saw enough to make her mouth go dry. He left his pants on as he climbed under the covers with her.

  Her heart beat louder. Surely he could hear it! She hesitated and then reached out her hand. He took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her heart leaped, and her body tingled. Then he let go and turned his back to her. She could tell by his heavy even breaths that he had fallen asleep.

  She stared at his back most of the night wondering where she had gone wrong. She thought he wanted to… Her heart was bursting with love for him but he didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t have to say it, she felt it keenly when he turned away from her. She refused to cry though. She’d cry in private. After all, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t love her. They had been thrown together, and she had let her imagination get away from her. What type of marriage would they have? He’d spoken of children. He must think of having a family as his duty, and maybe he was putting it off.

  The pain in her heart was unbearable, but she couldn’t make him love her if he wasn’t so inclined. Most marriages were probably the same. She’d stupidly thought he cared for her, loved her even. There was no bigger fool than she. She was forever hoping for things that would never be. She had her pride and she’d never let on he’d hurt her. Somehow, she’d have to learn to not love him, but how?

  The next morning she woke late, and the coffee was already made and Finn was already up on the roof. She must have stepped over some unknown line. He hadn’t even bothered to wake her. Maureen’s chest tightened and her heart dropped. Could he not even bear to lo
ok at her? She smoothed one hand over her hair. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, and she probably looked it.

  Quickly, she used some water she’d poured into a basin to wash and then she dressed. She left the wagon and grabbed the coffee pot without a hot pad. It hurt like the flames of hell and she cried out. Hurrying to the stream she sank her hand into it trying to take the pain away. Couldn’t she do anything right?

  She felt the heat from his body behind her. She wanted to yell at him and tell him to go away and leave her be, but she clamped her mouth shut. She refused to act like a child.

  He knelt beside her and she could smell the wonderful scent that was only his. He smelled like fresh-cut wood, pine trees, and leather. It was both pleasure and heartfelt pain to have him so near.

  “What happened?” He took her hand out of the stream and examined it. “You burned yourself good. I have some salve.”

  “Do you have a salve for whatever ails you?”

  He gave her a gentle smile. “Probably not everything.” He helped her to stand and led her toward the fire.

  He probably doesn’t have a salve for a broken heart. She sat on the tailgate of the wagon while Finn put salve on her burn and then wrapped her hand in a bandage.

  “If you didn’t want to work you could have just told me. You didn’t need to hurt yourself, a ghrá.”

  His use of the term of endearment squeezed her heart beyond repair. She nodded absently.

  He tilted his head as he gazed at her. “Is there something else wrong? If I can help, let me.”

  An unwanted tear rolled down her face. She quickly dashed it away. “It just hurts is all. I’m tough, I’ll be fine in a bit.”

  She could tell by his expression he didn’t believe her. “I’ll be up on the roof. I want you to rest, please. It’ll be so much warmer when I put the woodstove in and the roof is finished.”

  “Yes, I bet it will.” She stared down at her bandaged hand. What a stupid mistake.

  He stood there for another minute and then he walked away, taking her heart with him. Emptiness filled her, a good companion to her pain. She had no one to talk to. No one to ask what she should do. All she could do was pray.

  When she was finished, she felt better but her problems were still there except she wasn’t alone any longer. She felt a smidgen of hope.

  Though it was a struggle, Finn kept his wits about him on the roof. The day was cold and windy, and he couldn’t stop glancing at Maureen. She seemed upset about more than a burned hand. He’d never understand women. If only she’d open up to him. He had a feeling he hadn’t heard the whole story of her being an indentured servant. They probably worked her hard but he didn’t think that bothered her. Maybe that heathen she worked for had taken advantage of her.

  He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the cloudless sky. They’d have to talk. They could have a good marriage, he knew it, but he didn’t know how to get past the wall she’d put up. Maybe once they got settled into the cabin. At this rate, maybe he should have put in a bedroom just for her. He smiled. He’d get his fiddle out tonight and play her music from home. Maybe that would make her happy.

  Movement in the distance caught his eye. A man on horseback was riding the edges of the property that Finn could see from the roof. What was with that piece of property people were so intrigued with? He needed to spend more time at the pub. The saloon was full of gossip and information. He’d have to leave Maureen alone again, but she knew how to handle a gun now, plus she needed her rest.

  Finn watched until the man turned and rode for town. Then he put his tools away and climbed down the sturdy, wooden ladder he’d made.

  He walked to the fire and was taken aback by the sadness on Maureen’s face. “You look as though you have the world’s troubles on your shoulders. Would you like to tell me why you’re so sad?”

  “I’m fine really. Just a bit homesick.” She stared at the ground the whole time.

  “There was a rider on your property just a bit ago. I’m heading to town to see if I can get anyone to talk about what’s supposedly on that land. You’ll be fine here?” He waited for her to look at him but she didn’t.

  “I’ll be just fine. Go and find out what people are after.” A scowl creased her forehead. “It’s becoming a real problem.”

  Finn leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll probably be back late. I’ll be at the saloon, and I might have to wait for some of them to get soused before they talk.”

  She tilted her head up and gazed at him. “You be careful, Finn Langley.”

  “Aye. I’ll be back. Keep warm and keep the rifle with you.”

  Chewing her lip, she nodded but said nothing.

  He filled his saddlebag with a blanket and a canteen of water. Then he saddled Justice. He glanced at her one more time before he mounted the horse and off he went.

  Maybe she really was homesick. She’d have been in America for about five or six years. That was a long time. Maybe she could write to her family, maybe a letter would follow them to wherever they’d gone. He’d managed to get messages to his family from time to time. He knew it eased their minds that he was well.

  It was a good hour’s ride to town. Not really that far at all. He rode up in front of the saloon, dismounted, and tied Justice to the hitching post. The brassy tones of a piano playing what passed for music in these parts along with the voices of men talking loudly to be heard drifted from the building. He smiled at the western batwing doors. It seemed that all the saloons had them. He pushed them open and entered.

  The first time he’d been there, he’d expected some rundown place, but the saloon had the shiniest bar he’d ever seen. It ran the length of the room. A mirror hung on the wall behind the bar and the frame looked to be gilded gold. Next to the mirror was a painting of a near naked, busty woman. That frame also looked like it was gold. The tables weren’t all marred, and there wasn’t a broken chair to be seen. Who owned this bar?

  He stood at the bar, and the bartender—a man he’d heard the others call Benny—nodded. He was nicely dressed, but it was apparent if anyone got out of line he’d be able to take a man’s head off in one punch.

  Benny sized him up then asked. “What’ll be?”

  “Whiskey.”

  Benny grabbed a small glass and a bottle of whiskey. He poured it and set it down in front of Finn. “You have a place around here, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It straddles the stream north of here.”

  “In that case, you can settle up before you leave. Too many new people coming in and trying to leave without paying.” Benny smiled, flashing his gold tooth on his front upper gums.

  “Howdy, neighbor,” a tall scruffy man to his right said.

  Finn nodded in greeting.

  “I’m Mesquite and this here is my friend, Cluck.” He nodded to a pair of men flanking him. “And that there is Bob.”

  Finn tensed. “Nice to meet you. I’m Finn.” They didn’t look like the type he’d want to take home to meet the wife. “You called me neighbor. Do we have property near each other?”

  Cluck stepped away from the bar and pushed his way in between Mesquite and Finn. “Before you ask, Cluck is my name ’cause I used to be a chicken farmer. Not much money in it though. Most people have their own chickens.”

  Finn had to keep his lips from twitching. Cluck smelled to high heaven. “I was hoping to get hitched to that little red-haired widow, but you scooped her up mighty fast like.”

  “I guess I can understand why it would seem fast to you, but we’d gotten to know each other and we get on well. It just felt natural to get married.”

  “Hey, Benny!” Bob called. “More whiskey for the four of us. Finn’s buying!”

  Benny caught Finn’s eye, and Finn nodded. He waited for his whiskey before suggesting they have a seat at a table.

  “You fellas have a ranch or something around here?” Finn tried to sound a bit bored as he asked about their home a second time.

  “We got
land,” Mesquite said. I got 320 acres and Cluck got 320 acres and Bob got 320 acres so we have, oh let’s see, according to my figuring we have 820 acres all told.” He smiled proudly.

  Finn waited for one of the other two to correct Mesquite’s figuring, but they didn’t.

  “Where abouts?” He slung back his whiskey.

  Bob stared at him. “We own the land next to your pretty wife’s. I’m hoping she’ll be willing to sell. We plan on a big cattle ranch, but we don’t have enough land, and hers is a good piece of property. I rode over that way today. It would go good with our land.”

  Go Good? What were these yahoos up to? “Well, sorry we’re going to keep it. I have plans for it too. It looks like this town is going to be growing, with all the new landowners. We’re lucky we got here early enough to get good choices of property.”

  Bob, Cluck, and Mesquite glanced at each other frowning. Bob stood and walked to the bar. He came back with a bottle of whiskey, most likely put on Finn’s tab.

  He sat and poured everyone a drink. “Funny thing about the West. You only have what you can hold.”

  “Hold?”

  Bob nodded. “I can tell you’re not from around here. You talk all funny like. You need to be able to defend your property to keep it.” He stared Finn down.

  Finn didn’t flinch. He’d stood his ground against British soldiers. These yokels didn’t scare him. “I can see the wisdom in it. Where I’m from, folks just place traps with explosives around their property to keep unwanted guests away.” He shrugged but held Bob’s stare. “I’m not sure if it’s legal here but I put a few around anyway.”

  All three men turned white. He’d bought himself some time at least. Keeping his movements lazy and calm, he refilled his glass. “Can you tell me something? What is on my land that everyone is willing to kill for?”