The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  “And?”

  “The one named Amy pointed toward the house and said yes. I had no idea Pearl would be in the bathtub.”

  Smythe wanted to punch Runyon again as they walked back into the kitchen. “I’d wipe that look off your face if I were you.” He poured three glasses of whiskey and handed them around.

  Reilly grinned. “Ye better get used to men lookin’ at yer bride to be. She’s a lovely lass.”

  Smythe gritted his teeth.

  “But it’s her spine of steel and heart of gold that slay a man,” Reilly added.

  Smythe sighed heavily. Reilly was right, and he could not have said it better. He would have to get used to men looking at Pearl, but he didn’t have to like it.

  “She’s strong,” Smythe admitted slowly. “She didn’t back down when I came to her door demanding to know what she was doing on my porch.”

  Runyon grinned. “What did she do?”

  Smythe smiled sheepishly. “Shot the hat right off my head.”

  “How much whiskey have you had,” his friend demanded.

  “Not enough.” Reilly said, lifting the glass to his lips.

  “So she really shot at you?”

  “Three times,” Smythe admitted, taking a mouthful of the smooth alcohol.

  Runyon threw back his head and laughed. “Now why don’t you tell me what really happened.”

  “Do you doubt that I could defend my land, Mr. Runyon?” Pearl asked, stalking into the room, hands on hips, glaring at him.

  Smythe rose to his feet and walked over to her. “It’s the truth. She did defend her land and protect her girls.”

  “Those four girls are yours?” Runyon paused, looking at her intently. “They don’t look a thing like you.”

  “Family doesn’t have to be related by blood,” Amy said, walking in through the doorway from the front parlor.

  “Blood ties can be severed,” Daisy whispered, coming to stand beside Amy.

  “’Just because your father is a bastard doesn’t mean you are,’” Mary quoted, looking to Pearl for reassurance.

  Pearl held out her arms to Mary and the girl ran for them.

  Nellie was the last to enter the room. “I’d never sell my daughter—”

  “Nellie,” Pearl interrupted. The young girl looked around the room and ran to Pearl’s side. She held the youngest girls close, while the older ones came to stand on either side of them, presenting a united front to the men in the room.

  Runyon looked from one face to the next and quietly said, “Smythe stood in for my brother when the Clancy brothers were determined to beat my sorry hide to a pulp.”

  Reilly studied him closely. “What did you do to them?”

  Runyon opened his mouth as if to protest he hadn’t done a thing, then looked at Smythe and grinned. “Their sister really did look like Mr. Shepherd’s milk cow.”

  Reilly choked on his laughter and spat his mouthful of whiskey back into his glass. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he begged the ladies’ pardon. “Would have been a waste of good whiskey,” he mumbled, lifting the glass to his lips again.

  “It wasn’t the remark that bothered them,” Runyon admitted. “It was the fact that she was standing right behind me.”

  Pearl’s face lost all its color. “She heard you?”

  “Was she big?” Daisy wanted to know.

  Runyon bowed his head. “Yes and yes.”

  Reilly looked at Smythe, “How many Clancy brothers were there?”

  Smythe grinned. “Five.”

  “Dear Lord!” Pearl whispered.

  “How old were you?” Amy wanted to know.

  Runyon smiled. “Seven.”

  “And the brothers?” Mary asked.

  “Stair steps,” Smythe answered. “From eight up to fifteen.”

  “Fifteen?” Pearl sounded outraged on their behalf.

  “The odds aren’t always on yer side in a fight, lass,” Reilly said quietly. He stared down into his empty glass. “I think I’ll be on me way.” He stood. “Thank ye for the whiskey.”

  “So, Mr. Runyon,” Amy said slowly, watching Reilly leave, “I guess you weren’t looking for Pearl.”

  He flushed and shook his head.

  She turned toward Pearl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were taking a bath.”

  Pearl ushered the younger girls to the table and began to pour the tea she’d left to steep before the men came inside. “What’s done is done.”

  Amy grimaced. “Just like the deed?”

  Smythe watched the play of emotions on the young woman’s face. “You did what you thought you had to do, Amy,” he said quietly. “Neither Pearl nor I blame you.”

  “She’s blamed herself enough for the both of you,” Daisy said.

  Runyon tilted his head to one side, and Smythe wondered what was going through his friend’s excellent brain.

  “Were you forced?” Runyon asked Amy.

  She shook her head.

  “Then why did you do it?”

  Amy shrugged her shoulders and stared down at her untouched teacup.

  Pearl spoke up defending Amy. “Samuel’s mother threatened to send him back East to live with relatives if he didn’t get his hands on the deed to my ranch.”

  Runyon stared at the women, before asking, “And what is Samuel to you, Amy?”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she bravely answered, “The man I’m going to marry.”

  His brows shot up. “Aren’t you a little young?”

  She straightened up and met his gaze. “I’ll be seventeen next month.”

  He looked at Smythe, who shrugged.

  Pearl patted Amy’s shoulder. “I told you. I understand.”

  Amy’s shoulders slumped. “But what are we going to do now?”

  “If we can promise Samuel he won’t have to go back East, will he tell the truth?”

  Amy shook her head and said, “I don’t know.”

  “How old is he?” Runyon asked.

  “Nineteen,” Amy whispered.

  “Why don’t you ask him to come to dinner,” Smythe suggested.

  “His mother won’t let him come,” Daisy said.

  “Is she the head of the committee you mentioned?” Runyon asked.

  Smythe nodded.

  “What are you going to do if you can’t get her to confess?”

  Smythe smiled. “I’ve contacted the lawyer who handled the purchase, and he’s promised to bring all of the paperwork here to help straighten out this mess.”

  Pearl whirled to face him. “He has? When?”

  Smythe patted his pocket. “It was one of the wires waiting for me at the mercantile.”

  “What is his name?” Pearl whispered, her hands clenched into a tight fist.

  “Jones…Samuel Jones.”

  Her face drained of every ounce of color. Amy got to her feet and grabbed her before she could fall over. “Pearl! Sit down.”

  She sat down hard. “Oh, Lord,” Pearl whispered. “I just remembered where I’ve heard that name.”

  Smythe moved to stand beside her chair. “Where?”

  “I could swear Jones was Sarah Burnbaum’s maiden name.”

  Smythe stalked over to the back door and pounded his fist against the doorframe. What the woman had almost let slip when he’d spoken with her that morning was true. “That sonofabitch is her brother?”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Runyon offered.

  “In a pig’s eye,” Pearl murmured. “She’s wanted me gone since the night Jake—” She clamped her mouth shut and stared at Smythe.

  He spun back toward the table, stopping in front of Pearl. His gaze met Pearl’s. “Since the night Jake did what?”

  Pearl looked away. “It’s not important now.”

  “Tell me,” he demanded, standing in front of her.

  “Smythe,” Runyon said, “Perhaps it would be better if you let Pearl decide if she wants to tell you.”

  “She’s going to be my wife. There will be no secre
ts between us.”

  “Have you told her about the Blarney Cock Tavern?” Runyon’s grin spread across his face.

  Smythe opened his mouth and closed it, twice. “No.”

  Runyon smiled, “Well then.”

  “Pearl?” Smythe urged.

  She shook her head at him.

  “Smythe?” Runyon asked.

  Smythe wouldn’t look at his friend, he looked out the window.

  Runyon laughed out loud. “You two are perfect for each other.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Are you certain?” Runyon asked for the third time, digging into the berry cobbler with gusto.

  Pearl smiled up at him. “It’s late. Besides, we do have room, if you don’t mind that the bed’s on the short side.”

  Davidson and Runyon shared a pointed look, but neither man shared what they were thinking with her. Probably just as well; if she shared what she was thinking, they’d both be very sorry they’d asked.

  “Not at all.” Runyon licked the last of the dessert from his fork, set it down, and sighed.

  She looked up at him again and smiled. “Did you enjoy Daisy’s cobbler?”

  “The best I’ve ever had.”

  He surprised her by turning to Daisy and thanking her for the wonderful dessert. Polite he might be, but he was at least as tall as Davidson and would find his feet hanging over the end of the bed. He’d be sorry later.

  She knew something Smythe and Runyon had discussed did not include her. Men. What was it about their kind that they just assumed they were the only ones who were capable of protecting others? Hadn’t she proved her capability more than once since Davidson had arrived in Emerson? Drawing in a breath and releasing it, she felt a bit calmer. Let the men have their secrets. She and the girls had secrets of their own. Besides, it was still her ranch, wasn’t it?

  “Mary, would you please change the bed linens while Nellie helps me clean up? It’s her turn.”

  Davidson grabbed her hand and turned it over. “You shouldn’t be putting this hand in hot water yet, Doc said—”

  “Doc’s not here, and there’s work to be done.”

  Runyon stared pointedly at her hand. Pearl knew it still looked bad, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him what had happened to her. Let him ask Davidson. They could go out to the barn and share more secrets. Damn their hides.

  “Daisy, you and Amy can go outside and bed the animals down for the night.” She winked at Amy, who lit up like a star. Lord, she must really love that boy. Samuel hadn’t been able to make it for dinner, but there was a whole other berry cobbler waiting and a pitcher of fresh cream with his name on it. He was bound to show up sooner or later.

  The girls had agreed earlier that the men would probably pester Samuel with questions, if Samuel did show up. Pearl intended to let him and Amy have time alone before the questions started.

  Even though Davidson had agreed to wait until tomorrow to ride into town and find the boy, she knew if Samuel happened to show up, Davidson would start in on the boy tonight.

  “Wouldn’t you two be more comfortable in the front parlor?” Pearl really wanted them out of the kitchen so she could sneak the cobbler outside. Davidson looked at her oddly. Damn the man for always questioning things. If she didn’t know it was because he was worried about her, she’d be mad as hell at him.

  He finally nodded and led his friend from the room.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” Nellie whispered.

  Mary walked into the room and whispered, “Is it time yet?”

  Pearl shook her head. “Why don’t you and Nellie go on outside and call Daisy in?”

  Mary’s smile was slow, but sweet. “You’ve a good heart, Pearl.”

  Pearl hugged Mary and shooed the girls outside. Waiting until she could hear the men’s voices rumbling from the front room, she slipped out, carrying the promised dessert.

  Mary and Daisy ran past her, headed toward the house with Nellie hot on their heels. “You girls can wait on the porch for me. I’ll be right back.”

  She made her way to the barn, calling out as she reached the door, “I’m coming inside—and I’ve got berry cobbler!”

  The door whooshed open and a grateful young man stood with his arm around Amy. Lord, look at the two of them, she thought. So young and so much in love. How can I stay mad at either of them?

  “Miss Pearl,” Samuel began slowly, “I had no right to take your deed.”

  She looked at his face; he was such an open, trusting young man. “No,” she agreed. “You did not.”

  Amy opened her mouth, and Pearl asked her to close the door behind her. Amy sighed and did as she was told. Looking around her, Pearl noticed her best checked tablecloth set out on the long bench by the back wall.

  Amy stepped forward. “I’d like to explain.”

  Pearl looked over her shoulder at Samuel’s tortured expression. “Go ahead. I’m listening.” She placed the cobbler and cream on the bench and turned back to face them.

  Samuel grabbed hold of Amy’s hand and pulled her to his side. “I love Amy.”

  Pearl’s heart flipped over. “I know you do.”

  “But my folks don’t approve.”

  Her heart ached for them. “They wouldn’t.”

  Amy blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes. “We want to get married, but Mr. Burnbaum won’t give Samuel the money he promised him to get started on his own.”

  Pearl nodded; she’d figured it had come down to money. She looked up at Samuel and asked, “Don’t you have a strong back and two good hands?”

  “You know I do. I helped you fix your chicken coop.”

  She nodded. “So then it’s a brain you’re lacking.”

  His face flushed deep red.

  She knew these two hadn’t thought the situation out entirely. “You are of age, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Then what’s keeping you here in Emerson?”

  He hugged Amy closer. “You already know that.”

  Pearl shook her head. “You’re staying because you’re afraid to strike out on your own with the woman you love. Afraid you’ll fail and have to come back home asking for help. Help you know your parents will never give.”

  She slowly walked over to the couple. “You two are both young, strong, and so much in love with each other that it hurts my heart to see you fighting a losing battle.”

  “But I don’t have enough put by to build Amy the house she deserves.”

  “Not one of us on this earth ever really gets what we think we deserve,” Pearl said. “But sometimes we’re lucky enough to meet someone who will love us with all their heart. Someone who will stand beside us through good times and bad.” Her throat tightened and tears pooled in her eyes. She’d found that in Davidson.

  “Sometimes, you’ve got to take that leap of faith and trust that God knows what he’s doing.” Pearl brushed the tears off Amy’s face and cupped Samuel’s bristly cheek in her hand. “All you two need is the confidence to trust in the Lord and each other. You’ll do fine. You’re both strong and not afraid of hard work.”

  She patted Samuel’s arm. “Besides, as a wedding present, I’ve got some money put by.” Looking at Amy, she grinned. “You know all those linens I keep insisting you air out?”

  Amy groaned. “I hate that chore.”

  Pearl nodded. “I know you do, but there’s enough for all four of you girls to share, along with assorted plates and flatware, cooking pots…”

  Samuel grabbed hold of her hand. “You do have the biggest heart.” His face darkened. “But I stole from you. Why aren’t you chasing me off your land with your rifle?”

  Pearl sighed; men were so dense sometimes. “Because I can see Amy loves you as much as you love her.” Her voice hitched. “You both deserve a chance to be happy, and as far as I can tell, neither one of you will be happy unless you’re together.”

  Amy threw her arms around Pearl and started to cry. “I don�
��t deserve your kindness.”

  Pearl patted her on the back. “Of course you do, honey. No matter what you think, you deserve Samuel’s love and my forgiveness.”

  She brushed away her own tears. If only someone had given her that chance when she was Amy’s age. But then, she realized, she’d never have met Davidson. “You two mind that you don’t get too carried away…celebrating life.”

  Amy’s watery laughter was music to Pearl’s soul. She’d done right by these two. She’d make Davidson and the marshal see her way of thinking after she’d helped Amy and Samuel fill the wagon she planned to give them. Maggie and Bridget would no doubt want to help, and she would encourage them to.

  She tried to open the door, but couldn’t. “The door’s stuck.” Pearl didn’t wonder why; it happened now and again. She put her shoulder to it, but it still wouldn’t budge. She turned back and started to ask Samuel to help and saw the smoke snaking under the back wall, the flicker of flames peeking through the slats in the wide planking.

  “Fire!”

  Galvanized into action, she pulled her apron off and ran toward the flames. She tried beating at them while Amy ran for the bucket they kept for just that reason.

  “There’s a hole in the water barrel!” Amy cried, rushing back to her side.

  Looking at the young woman’s terrified expression, an eerie calm spread through Pearl. She would die. It was her time. She accepted it, but she wouldn’t let anything happen to these two.

  “Samuel, help Amy carry the bench over to the window. You’ll have to break the glass. She’s thin enough to climb through and go for help.”

  Amy shook her head. “I’m not leaving you or Samuel.”

  Pearl didn’t have time to argue. “Samuel, if you value Amy’s life, you’ll do it.”

  She turned her back on them and tried scraping dirt up off the hard-packed floor to toss on the fire. Her hands ached, but she kept scratching at the dirt with the pitchfork.

  She heard the sound of breaking glass and didn’t need to turn around to know Samuel had done what she’d asked.

  But Amy’s muffled screams for help were not what she’d intended. She’d asked her to go for help not scream for it. Samuel handed her a shovel and took the pitchfork. She started tossing the dirt on the growing conflagration while he scraped up more dirt.