Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six

by Flightner, Ramona

  With a sigh, he settled onto the uncomfortable seat atop the stagecoach, his alert gaze taking in the constant landscape of prairie land and dun-colored bluffs in the distance. The route was nearly as familiar to him as Maggie’s beautiful face, although not nearly as precious. Each bluff, coulee, and dry riverbed was a landmark, and he knew he was running a little behind schedule. He’d allowed Mr. Patterson at Twenty-Eight Mile Springs to chatter on too long, as his sons changed the horses. However, Dunmore knew better than to rush the man, as Dunmore depended on the horses to be well tended for each leg of the arduous journey to and from the mining cities farther into the Territory.

  Ignoring the man sleeping beside him, Dunmore continued to contemplate Maggie. Unbidden, the memory of their embrace not even a month ago filled his mind, and he was momentarily lost to memories.

  “Dunmore,” Maggie called out in her sweet voice. “Are you truly back?” She poked her head around the corner into the tack room, smiling with glee at the sight of him. “You are here!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. When he caught her, but held her stiffly against him, she pushed away and flushed a fetching shade of pink. “Forgive me. I’m being shameless.”

  He gripped her arm, preventing her from racing away in embarrassment. “Shameless?” he asked, as he watched her with deep interest. “You’ve never been, nor will you ever be, shameless, Maggie darlin’.”

  She stared at him in openmouthed wonder at his use of the word darling. “Dunmore,” she breathed. “It’s good to have you home.”

  He chuckled and nodded. “I suspected you felt some joy when you threw yourself into my arms.” When she belted him on his arm, he laughed louder. “I’ve asked you to call me Philip.”

  She continued to stare at him with wide eyes. “It seems too forward.”

  He shook his head subtly and took a step toward her, shrinking the distance between them to almost nothing. “Forward?” Slowly raising a hand, he cupped her head. “There’s nothing forward about asking the woman I … adore to call me by my given name.”

  Her eyes widened farther, as she blurted out, “You adore me?”

  His smile tender, he tilted his head down toward hers, so their noses almost touched. “How do you not know? How could you doubt?”

  Her breath rapid, she shrugged. “I hoped.” She took a deep breath, raising her hand to softly clasp his hand caressing her head. “I hoped.” Her eyes were wet, as though fighting strong emotions, and she was unable to say anything more.

  Hauling her close, Dunmore wrapped his arms around her, tugging her onto her toes, as he hugged her so hard that he nearly squeezed the breath from her. “Every time I leave you, it’s a torment. All I can dream about is returning to you.”

  She breathed in his singular scent—one of horses, musk, and the forest, all mixed together to mean Dunmore. “I love how you smell.”

  He shook his head in astonishment. “I stink of horses and work.”

  “No,” she murmured, as she took another sniff. “Well, yes, you smell of hard work. But also a hint of the forest clings to you, and you’re all manly.” She shrieked, as he spun her around, placing her back against the tack room wall. “Dun—Philip.”

  “And you,” he breathed, as he nuzzled her neck. “You smell of the sunshine and peppermint and a hint of starch.” He sniffed again. “Of hope and of all my dreams.”

  “Philip,” she whispered, her hands cupping his cheeks, as she gazed deeply into his ardent gaze. “I …” With a sudden inhalation of breath, she stood on her toes and leaned forward, placing her lips against his. A chaste kiss, she did nothing more than that, before she backed away, flushing with humiliation.

  He stared at her, mouth agape, his breaths emerging in pants, unable to form a single word.

  “What must you think of me? I throw myself at you, and I don’t even know how to kiss!” She squirmed in an attempt to ease away. “I fought … him, … so I never really kissed anyone before. Oh, I’m a fool.” She stared at him morosely, as she tried to overcome her embarrassment at the mention of her evil step-uncle Jacques and for her mortification at having kissed Dunmore.

  “Good,” Dunmore rasped in a deep voice. “If you’re learning anything about kissin’, it’s from me.” He bent forward, softly placing his lips against hers. At her inquisitive tilt of her head and the firming pressure of her mouth against his, he groaned and hauled her closer. Soon, the kiss had deepened, and his arms were wrapped around her waist, his legs tangled in her skirts. Her hands were buried in his long hair, and she pressed against him, eager to be as close to him as possible.

  After many long drugging kisses, Dunmore broke away, ignoring her moan of protest. He scattered kisses over her cheeks and down her neck, forcing himself to stop at the neckline of her gown. “Forgive me for being so forward.” His breath sawed in and out of him, while his hand shook as it stroked through her loose hair. With his gaze gleaming with passion, he stared at her with her hair down. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this for so long.”

  She shook her head in confusion and gazed at him in silence.

  Kissing her quickly, he backed away, pressing his forehead against hers. “Lips swollen from my kisses. Hair a tangled mess and free from pins due to my hands. Your expression filled with promise.” He took a deep breath and then another. “I … I beg your pardon, Maggie.” He took another deep breath and backed away, putting a slight distance between them and ignoring her further groan of protest. “Beloved.”

  “Beloved?” she breathed.

  “Yes, it’s how I always think of you. My beloved Maggie.” His expression overflowed with sincerity, passion, and the deepest of emotions he refused to name. “Never doubt how much you are cherished.”

  At the sound of Mr. Harrison calling out in the livery, Dunmore motioned for her to remain, as he found his hat and sauntered out to chat with the livery owner about his horses.

  The stage hit a rut, and Dunmore jerked from his reverie. With a start, he looked around him, realizing he had traveled miles with no recollection of the land traversed. Shaking his head in disgust, he forced himself to pay attention to the terrain and to any potential for danger, as he attempted to push Maggie from his thoughts.

  * * *

  Two weeks after Dunmore had left, Maggie wandered to the levee to stare at the Missouri River and to watch the men work. She knew her da would be upset with her because she was wandering around town without a brother as her escort, but she needed time alone, away from the house. Without the promise of Dunmore’s return and visits with him, Maggie felt her large family home had turned into a prison.

  Even during the long winter months, she had never felt as cooped up, as penned in, as she did now. Dunmore had visited almost every day. They had chatted while she cooked and then, during the long evenings, he had taught her to play cribbage. He said it was one of his favorite ways of passing the time while traveling, as he could almost always find someone to play with him, and he never cared to risk his hard-earned money in a card game. She rarely beat him, and she relished their quiet moments in the kitchen, with the rumble of her father’s voice in the background, as he read to the family in the living room. Those simple, easy days seemed so far away.

  A deep-seated anger had taken root inside Maggie. She attempted to understand her father’s desire to have more time with her, but she resented the misunderstanding that had been allowed to bloom between her and Dunmore. A sliver of rage had sprouted toward Dunmore too. He had agreed with her father, never speaking with her. He’d allowed her to believe that he didn’t care for her. That all of their precious moments had been a lie.

  She ducked her head, as she rubbed at her eyes, battling tears. She wanted Dunmore back in town. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. To feel his strength as he held her close. To breathe in deeply of his musky masculine scent that always held a hint of horses and a forest. She wanted to feel at peace again.

  A hand gripped her shoulder, and she stiffened in alarm.<
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  “Now what could make the prettiest girl in Fort Benton so sad?” A.J. asked, as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and then released it. “Ain’t right to see you’ve lost your bloom, missy.”

  “I think you call us all missy so you don’t have to remember our names,” she teased, her voice shaky, as she attempted to hide her melancholy.

  He peered at her, as he rocked back and forth, his pipe clamped in the corner of his mouth. “Now you don’t go tellin’ anyone else my secrets.” He winked at her, his smile fading when he saw her fighting tears. “Miss Maggie?” He grasped her arm and gently led her to a nearby crate, easing her onto it. “Ain’t nothin’ so awful as to make you cry.”

  She swiped at her cheeks. “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. A.J.”

  “The lad was a fool to run away from you, without speakin’ with you. And a greater fool for ever agreein’ to your pa’s demands.” He paused. “I remember when I was courtin’ my sweet Bessie. Her father tried somethin’ similar. I think it’s in a father’s nature to always test the man courtin’ his daughter.”

  “Da knows the man Dunmore is,” Maggie protested, as she pulled out her handkerchief.

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, missy.” A.J. puffed on his pipe and stared at the ever-constant flow of the Missouri, seeming to take comfort from the river. “Every man, even the most trustworthy, must be tested when a father is going to entrust his precious daughter to him.”

  Maggie’s gaze shone with curiosity and a touch of reluctant understanding, as she gazed at A.J. “What did your Bessie’s father do?”

  “Oh, he was an ornery old coot. Miss him to this day.” He sighed, as he shook his head. “He brought every known man to the house to entice Bessie, convinced she’d enjoy another’s company more than mine. They were bankers and lawyers and storeowners. None were river rats like me.” He sighed again. “I lived in fear those weeks.”

  “Why?” Maggie whispered, her focus entirely on the man who was like a beloved cousin. “You knew she loved you.”

  “I hoped,” he murmured. “But I knew I could never offer her what they could. I hoped to make a good livin’ one day, and I dreamed of bein’ a captain.” He stared at her, gleaming with pride at all he’d accomplished in his life.

  “Weren’t you upset with her for having dinner with so many other men?” Maggie asked.

  His expression held a residual pain, as he thought about those days. “I was never upset with her. If she wanted another man, I had no right to upserp her right to choose.”

  “Usurp? Upset?” Maggie whispered.

  “Exactly,” A.J. said, with a small smile. “I had to be brave enough to let her go.”

  “What happened?” she asked in a low voice, ignoring the yells of the men around her.

  “Oh, finally my Bessie’d had enough. Told her pa she’d see no more of the puffed-up peacocks and demanded I be invited for dinner.” A.J. smiled, his gaze distant, as he envisioned that scene. “I wore my best suit, which wasn’t sayin’ much. On the outside it looked respectable. On the inside, it was tattered.” He chuckled, as he acted out fingering the inside of a jacket. “Scraggly an’ ripped apart.”

  Maggie giggled, and he grinned at her.

  He wiggled a finger at her. “Never discount the importance of appearances, missy.” His smile faded to one of contentment. “All that evenin’ all I saw was my Bessie. Dressed in a beautiful ice-blue dress. We laughed and talked, and it seemed as though no one was there but us two.” He shrugged. “Her pa realized separatin’ us was a hopeless endeavor, an’, by the next mornin’, I had his blessin’ to wed his daughter.”

  Maggie gripped his arm. “It can’t have been that simple, Mr. A.J.”

  He nodded. “It was. Her father saw us together and understood he could make a decision that would lead to his daughter’s misery or to her joy. He loved her enough to want to see her happy.” He shifted to rise, pausing to murmur. “Forgive them. Neither acted to hurt you, Maggie. Sometimes we are blinded by our love and our need to protect those we love.” He squeezed her shoulder, as he rose and moved away.

  Maggie sat for long minutes, staring at the Missouri, thinking through A.J.’s story and his subtle yet compelling advice.

  * * *

  Maggie walked to the Bordello in silence, her brother Kevin beside her. Although the owner, Nora, was a family friend and had helped Niamh after the death of her first husband, Maggie had never before been asked to enter the house of ill repute. Seamus had agreed to the request, as long as at least one of her brothers was with her.

  “You know you’ll have to speak to him at some point,” Kevin murmured, as he nodded to townsfolk.

  Maggie kicked at a stone. “When Dunmore is back, and all is well between us again. Then I will speak with Da. Then he will be forgiven.”

  “Mags,” Kevin cajoled. “That could be weeks from now. Don’t make us suffer through more tense evenings like last night.”

  Stopping, Maggie looked up to glare at her older brother. Like her and their mum, he had brown hair. Unlike her, he also had Mum’s hazel eyes. “Don’t make this out to be my fault,” she hissed. “I’m not the one who separated his daughter from the man she loved because he was so miserly with his own love that he couldn’t bear to share!”

  Gripping her arm, Kevin tugged Maggie away from the bustling boardwalk to the river and to a place where they could have a private talk. Kevin bent forward, speaking in a low voice, as his eyes flashed with anger and a warning. “No, Mags, you know that ’tisn’t how it was at all. Da is not miserly. He’s overgenerous.” He paused. “I know you suffered away from us. I know you still worry about that crazy man who’s after you. But you have no idea what Da suffered.”

  Maggie shook her head in confusion. “We were all lonely and miserable.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Aye, but Da was tormented too because all he wanted was Mum. And he thought he’d failed you, by not being a good-enough father and provider. That due to him and his inability to provide for Mum, he’d caused your death. That he’d killed you and Mum.”

  Maggie’s eyes rounded.

  “’Twas a heavy burden for him to carry.” He sighed. “Then, when Colleen started harpin’ on him about lovin’ a dead woman more than he would ever love her, his life was a true misery.”

  “Da would never have caused us harm. He always does what he can for us.” Maggie bit her lip at what she’d just admitted out loud.

  Kevin gave a knowing nod. “Aye. Don’t punish him for holding you a bit too close after havin’ lived through the hell of losin’ you. He’s a good man, Mags, but he’s a man. He makes mistakes, like we all do.”

  Maggie nodded, sniffling. Finally she whispered, “Is Dunmore as good a man as I thought he was?” When Kevin stared at her incredulously, she barreled on. “Why would he agree to Da’s demand? Why wouldn’t he speak with me and make sure I understood?”

  Kevin squeezed her shoulder. “I can’t answer that, lass. Only he knows his reasons.” He sighed, as he looked down the Missouri at the sight of another steamboat approaching. “What I do know is that Dunmore is a good man. He was as miserable as you at that family dinner but managed to hide it a bit better. Not sittin’ beside you, not flirtin’ with you, was as much a torture for him as it was for you.”

  A tear leaked out, and she sighed. “I want him back. I want this misunderstanding to end.” She paused to study her brother. “Is this how you felt, when you were separated from Aileen?”

  He smiled, nodding. “Aye. Although I had the added problem of knowing I would hurt my own brother and ruin his happiness.” His gaze clouded at the memory. “No matter how delighted I was to marry Aileen, I always regretted that I hurt Declan.”

  Maggie leaned forward, resting against him for a moment. “He forgave you. I can’t imagine him any happier than he is now with his Lorena.”

  “No,” Kevin murmured. “Things might not be as you wish them now, Mags, but have faith they’ll turn ou
t as you want them to. You never know. Your future with Dunmore might be even better than you ever dreamed possible.”

  She sighed with pleasure. “What a wonderful thought.” After a moment, she nodded in the direction of the Bordello. “I should see Madam Nora. ’Tisn’t like her to ask for me.”

  “Come,” Kevin said, with a wink. “I’ll keep an eye on you and see how Aileen is. I wouldn’t mind flirting with my wife during the day.”

  Maggie giggled. “Only you wouldn’t be upset that your wife works there.”

  He gave her a mock growl. “Only as a seamstress. Must have the Sirens looking their best.”

  She smiled. “Aye, and I know Aileen loves to sew. She’ll be too busy to make beautiful clothes once you have your own babes.” She stilled when Kevin froze. “Kevin?” She paled at the torment in his gaze.

  “We’ve been married three years, Mags,” he whispered. “And we have no children.” He clamped his jaw tight. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t speak of such things with you, my unmarried sister.”

  She belted him on his arm, before stroking a gentle hand down that same arm. “Why have you never said anything before now?” Peering up at him, she saw the anguish in his gaze.

  He ducked his head and closed his eyes a moment. “To speak of something makes it real, aye?” He flushed and shook his head. “I hate that I’ve failed my wife. That the one thing she wants—a child—she’ll never have.”

  “You don’t know that, Kevin,” Maggie said in a soft voice. “Sometimes it just takes time.”

  His gaze was filled with envy, when he stared at her. “Eamon has a baby girl. Niamh has two with another on the way. Declan has his son.” He let out a deep breath. “Ardan told me yesterday he and Deirdre were expecting their first, to be born around Christmas.” At the burst of joy in her gaze, he swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “I can’t even find joy for my own brothers and sister.”