by Lyn Horner
EPILOGUE
Seamus Devlin sat at his kitchen table, eating his noon meal – alone as usual. It was Sunday, almost two years to the day since the great fire, and he couldn’t help thinking about it and remembering. Remembering was something he did a great deal of these days. What else was a lonely old man to do?
“Aye, that’s what ye are, to be sure, auld and lonely and full o’ regrets,” he muttered to himself.
He’d made a dreadful mistake, renouncing his children the way he’d done. He would give anything, even this house, after all his scrimping and scraping to rebuild it, if only he could see them again. Indeed, he would be happy just to know they were alive and well. But he’d heard not a word from Ty or Jessie since the day they left – nigh unto a year and a half ago now. Not that he had a right to expect anything after turning his back on them and letting them go without a word of farewell.
“Och, what an ass I was!”
As for Rose, she was another story. One he didn’t care to think about because it brought back the pain of losing his darlin’ Nora.
He was cleaning up after his meal when he heard someone climb the front steps. At least he thought he did. He began to think it was his imagination when no one knocked. However, after a moment, there came a light rapping, like that of a woman.
“Who the devil?” he grumbled. Setting aside the plate he was scraping, he trudged over to the door. If it was that nosy Widow O’Neill wanting to invite herself in again, he’d send her packing. He was in no mood . . . .
Seamus forgot about the widow the second he opened the door. His mouth fell open and he stared in stunned disbelief. Certain he was seeing a vision of his own making, or an apparition come to haunt him, he stumbled backward.
Then she smiled hesitantly and spoke. “Hello, Da.”
“Jessie?” he whispered, still not believing his eyes.
“Aye, ’tis me. You’re not seeing things.” Her voice shook, he noticed, drinking in the sight of her.
He continued to stare at her for a few seconds. Then, his own voice cracking, he blurted, “Jessie girl, ye’ve come home!” And he opened his arms wide.
Giving a choked cry, she rushed into his embrace. “Oh, Da, I’ve missed ye so!”
Crushing her against him, he answered with a gruff, ragged sob.
Several moments passed before either of them could speak through their tears of joy. Then Seamus stepped back to feast his eyes upon her, unashamed of his emotional display. “Ah, ye’re more lovely than ever, colleen. There’s a glow about ye that wasn’t there before, and just look at the foin clothes ye’re wearin’. ’Twould seem ye’ve made a good life for yerself.” Dropping his eyes, he said, “I’m more sorry than I can say for drivin’ ye to leave with me foolish meddlin’. Can ye forgive me? ’Twould ease me auld heart if ye could.”
Jessie shook her head. “’Tis I who should beg forgiveness for all the hurtful things I said. And as for me leaving, well, I’ll let ye judge the results for yourself.” Grinning excitedly, she raised her hand. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back!”
Seamus stared after her in bemusement as she turned and dashed back outside. She spoke to someone, and another set of feet climbed the steps. A tall, well-featured man in a dark suit and wide-brimmed hat appeared behind her on the stoop. He smiled at her warmly and they exchanged a few quiet words. Then he followed her inside, removing his hat politely. When she stepped aside, Seamus saw that the stranger held a small, blanketed babe cradled in one arm. For several seconds, he stared, transfixed, at the sleeping infant. Then he raised his astonished gaze to his daughter.
“Da, this is my husband, David Taylor, who I never would have met if I hadn’t gone west with Tye, and who I shall love ’til my dying day,” Jessie declared with a tender glance at the man beside her. “David, I’d like ye to meet my father, Seamus Devlin.” As she spoke, she took the baby from him, freeing him to offer his hand to Seamus.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, sir. Jessie has spoken of you many times,” he said.
Dazed, Seamus accepted his hand and mumbled, “Aye, a . . . a pleasure.” Some part of him approved of the man’s firm grip and steady manner. But before their handshake even ended, his gaze reverted to the wee one in his daughter’s arms. He was fascinated by the cherubic little face and rosebud mouth, now yawning as the baby awoke.
Smiling at him, Jessie stepped close and proudly announced, “And now, Seamus Devlin, I wish to introduce your granddaughter, Nora Gabrielle Taylor.”
Seamus’s jaw went slack as Jessie laid the tiny girl in his arms. Holding her as if she were made of fragile glass, he took in the silky black hair crowning her head and gazed into the bright blue eyes looking up at him curiously. “Nora, ye’ve come back to me!” he uttered hoarsely.
Jessie’s throat constricted. Feeling David’s arm circle her shoulders, she hugged his side and looked up at him with brimming eyes. “I love you,” he mouthed silently and she repeated his words back to him with all the love in her heart. And she blessed the magical vision that had brought them together.
Read on to sample Tye Devlin’s story in Dashing Druid
Dashing Druid
Lyn Horner
Available in digital format
Soon in print
CHAPTER ONE
Bosque County, Texas; July 1874
“Consarned critter! Why’d you have to go and get stuck in there?” Lil Crawford muttered. She tugged harder on her rope in an effort to pull the bawling calf from the mud wallow it had wandered into. No luck. The animal was mired nearly up to his shoulders in thick clay gumbo. No matter how hard she pulled, she wasn’t going to get him out.
Nearby, standing beside the creek that had carved out the treacherous wallow along the bank, the calf’s mamma lowed plaintively as if blaming Lil for her baby’s predicament. Sending her a baleful glare, Lil said, “It’s not my fault. You should’ve dropped him in the spring like you’re supposed to ’stead of in the middle of summer. Then maybe he’d be big enough to climb out of this dang mud.”
Arms crossed, she studied the situation. She considered letting Major, her buckskin gelding, drag the calf out but feared injuring the little mite, possibly even breaking his neck. She sighed in disgust. There was no help for it; she’d have to get down in the mud and wrestle the calf out. It was either that or leave him there to die a slow, miserable death.
Dropping to the ground, she tugged off her boots and socks. She set them near the edge of the wallow, then rose, unbuckled her gun belt and laid it atop her footgear, where she could reach her six-shooter if need be. Her hat joined the pile for good measure.
Lil took a deep breath, set her teeth and stepped into the wallow, cringing as she sank up to her knees in the gooey muck. It squished between her toes and clung to her legs, plastering her britches to her skin. It also stank of rotting grass and other things she’d as soon not name.
Crooning softly to the frightened calf, she wrapped her arms around his middle, coating her hands, arms and shirt with mud in the process. She braced herself, preparing to wrestle the animal free.
A man’s deep-throated laugh caught her off guard. Jolted by the sound, she cried out in surprise and struggled to turn around, fighting the mud that imprisoned her legs. Once she succeeded, she stared, slack-jawed, at the stranger grinning at her from atop the most broken down nag she’d ever laid eyes on. The dude himself was a sight to behold. Togged out in a funny checked suit, with a derby hat atop jet-black hair, he made her lips twitch. However, her humor fled when she met his eyes. Brilliant blue, they shot sparks of light, brighter than the toothy grin splitting his handsome face.
“Sure’n I must be dreaming,” he said in a lilting Irish brogue. “Or are ye truly a lovely faery maid sent to enchant me?”
His foolish question broke Lil’s frozen stare and roused her anger. She knew she was far from lovely, and right now she was covered with nasty muck besides. “Mister, I’m no fairy and I don’t take kindly to stranger
s who ride up on me with no warning. So you can just turn that bag of bones around and git. Right now!”
“Ah, colleen, will ye not grant this poor beggar a few moments of your company? ’Twould be my pleasure to help ye with the wee animal if ye like.”
She snorted at his offer. “No thanks. I can get him out by myself. ’Sides, you wouldn’t want to muddy up your fancy suit, would you?” she drawled with a smirk.
He looked down at himself and grimaced. “I take it ye don’t care for my fine attire.” Fine came out sounding like foin. “Well, you’re not the first. A layer of mud might not be such a bad thing, eh? With that in mind, will ye not reconsider and allow me to lend ye a hand?” He gave another roguish grin and splayed a hand over his heart. “In truth, your beauty so captivates me that I fear I cannot turn away.”
Lil bristled at his absurd comment. Certain he was making fun of her now, for her beauty would never captivate any man, she narrowed her eyes. She’d teach him, by criminy!
Without a word, she plowed through the mud over to where her belongings lay piled. She hastily wiped the worst of the mud from her hands onto the grassy embankment, then reached under her hat and drew her Colt. Coldly calm now, she turned to face the impudent stranger. It pleased her to see how fast he sobered with a gun aimed between his eyes.
“This is Double C land, mister. You’re trespassing. I could shoot you dead and nobody’d blame me. So unless you want a hole in your head bigger than your mouth, you’d best get moving.”
Sighing, he crooked his lips. “As ye wish.” He tipped his hat to her, clumsily reined his horse around and started to leave, but then he pulled up and glanced at her over his shoulder. He held up his hands when she cocked her gun. “I’m going, colleen, never fear. But first, could ye be directing me to the Taylor place, by any chance?”
Lil stared at him for a moment while questions raced through her head. Normally, she didn’t poke her nose into other folks’ business, but in this case . . . . “What do you want at the River T?” she demanded.
He frowned testily. “I mean no harm, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m merely trying to find my sister. She’s wed to David Taylor. D’ye know him?”
Lil drew a sharp breath. “You’re Jessie’s brother?”
“Aye, that I am. So ye do know them.”
“I know them all right,” she gritted. She should’ve guessed who he was from his damned Irish accent and those blue eyes that were so much like his sister’s. The two looked a lot alike in other ways, too, except Jessie’s hair was dark red instead of black. And he was handsome, not beautiful.
Fiddlesticks! She didn’t care what he looked like. And she didn’t cotton to the way he was staring at her now, as if he was trying to see inside her head. It gave her an uneasy feeling. She wanted him gone. If giving him directions would get rid of him, so much the better.
“Follow the creek. It’ll take you to their place,” she snapped, jerking her head in the downstream direction. “Now leave before my trigger finger slips. On purpose.”
He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “I thank ye for your kind assistance, milady,” he said mockingly. Facing forward, he kicked his sorry mount into a stiff-legged trot and headed down the creek, bouncing in his saddle. Watching him, Lil snickered. He was a greenhorn if there ever was one, and he was going to be mighty sore tonight. She waited until he was well out of sight before laying her gun aside and returning her attention to the mired calf.
By lifting and shoving with all of her might, she finally muscled the loudly complaining critter onto dry ground. Once there, she, not he, made straight for her mother. Without a backward glance or a single moo of gratitude, the pair trotted off in search of greener pastures. Not that there was much green grass to be found anywhere on the range at this time of year, Lil thought as she set about cleaning herself up.
A quick dunk in the creek rid her of most of the mud. Climbing out, she slapped her hat on, slung her gun belt over her saddle and mounted up barefoot, toting her boots to save them from getting wet. Then she directed Major toward her favorite swimming hole, about a mile upstream. She wanted more of a bath before heading home.
As she rode, she couldn’t help thinking about her run-in with Jessie Taylor’s pesky brother. Still angry over his mocking remarks about her so-called beauty, she also found herself wondering if he was here for a short visit or if he meant to stay. Did David and Jessie know he was coming? Then she wondered what his name was. Wait, she’d heard Jessie’s maiden name once. It started with D. Doyle? No. Dillon? No. Devlin! His last name was Devlin. Not that it mattered.
Table of Contents
Review Excerpts
Other Books by Lyn Horner
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Dashing Druid Excerpt
