The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  They worked together, coaxing the frightened animals away from danger.

  “How many more are inside?” Inga asked, exhausted from the strain and breathing the smoke-laden air.

  “Just one,” Jessi called out. “I’ll get him. Ye need to make sure the marshal and the others get started on the bucket brigade.”

  Jessi raced inside the barn one last time, and grabbed hold of the halter and tugged, but the frightened animal reared up and tried to shake her loose.

  “Come on then, lad,” she crooned. “I’ll have ye out in no time, and ye’ll be safe.”

  Burning bits of wood dropped all around them as the roof caught fire. “Please?” Jessi begged. “We’re so close.”

  A section of the burning roof dropped down on the bales of straw used for bedding. The whoosh of heat and blast of air as it caught fire had her stepping backward, but not letting go of her charge.

  “I don’t want ye to die, love,” she called to the horse. “Please come with me.”

  “Jessi, lass,” a deep voice boomed. “Where are ye?”

  John? “By the burnin’ pile of straw,” she cried. “I’ve got a hold of the horse, but he won’t budge.”

  “Hang on,” he yelled. “I’m comin’.”

  The smoke was growing thicker, making her senses swim. She got turned around and was heading toward the fire when a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling both her and the horse she had a death grip on to safety.

  “Did you find her?”

  Inga’s tear-filled cry worried Jessi. She released her grip on the horse and asked, “Who’s missin’?”

  “Ye were, ye knot-headed female.” Reilly dragged her close and hugged her to his broad chest.

  Her head swam and her vision blurred. When her legs wobbled, Reilly scooped her up into his arms. Jessi would later swear she’d died and visited heaven, being held so close to his heart.

  * * *

  “She’s fainted!” Reilly yelled. “Where’s Doc?”

  “Right here.” The older man touched Reilly’s arm and an eerie calm settled over him.

  “What was she doin’, runnin’ into a burnin’ buildin’?”

  Doc didn’t answer him, but managed to guide Reilly over to a blanket someone had spread out on the ground. “You have to let go of her, Reilly.”

  Reilly looked down into the soot-streaked face of the woman he didn’t know and for a moment saw the girl he’d left behind. She always threw caution to the wind back home. “Aye, but only for a moment.” He set her down gently.

  Doc worked quickly and brought her around with smelling salts. While he checked her pulse and listened to her breathing, Reilly bathed the soot from her face.

  She whispered, “Am I dead then?” It was the only reason she could think of that John would be holding her close, gently rubbing a cool cloth over her hot and dirty face.

  “Not yet,” Reilly muttered. “But ye will be if ye ever try anythin’ like that again.”

  “Are ye threatenin’ to stop me?”

  “That I am.”

  Jessi snorted. “Yerself and what army?”

  Doc chuckled. “I think she’s going to be fine.”

  Inga took off her shawl. “She might be cold. Don’t let her get a chill.”

  When Reilly didn’t move, Inga barked, “You have to let go of her so I can wrap this shawl around her.”

  Doc nudged the man, and Reilly finally moved so Inga could tuck the shawl around Jessi.

  “Now then, Inga,” Doc said. “I’ll have a tonic prepared for the both of you.”

  “I don’t need anything,” Inga protested, right before a coughing fit seized her and had her gasping for breath.

  Doc frowned at her. “See that you and Jessi take every last drop.”

  “She will,” a deep voice called out.

  “Ben!” Inga whirled around and dissolved into tears. “I was so worried that we wouldn’t get the horses out, and then I couldn’t find Jessi.”

  Marshal Justiss held out his arms, and Inga fell against him. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  He rested his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. “Neither have I.” Looking over at Reilly, he asked, “What happened?”

  Reilly shrugged. “I was over at the mercantile picking up Bridget’s order when I heard the horses. I didn’t see the smoke or flames at first because I was on the wrong side of the barn.”

  Justiss nodded. “What about Peterson?”

  Jessi stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. “We found him facedown just inside the door.”

  “Do you think the fire was set?” Justiss asked Reilly.

  Before he could answer, Masterson pushed through the small crowd gathering around the women. “My God, Jessi, are you all right?”

  The worry in his voice irritated Reilly, but it had the opposite effect on the woman in his arms.

  “William,” she said. “You were right. Storms out here are dangerous.”

  Elbowing Reilly out of the way, Masterson knelt down and lifted one of her hands to his lips and gently pressed a kiss to the back of it.

  Reilly growled, and the other man eased Jessi’s hand away from his lips, but didn’t let go of it.

  “I heard the lightning strike behind me and knew it would be bad.” He shook his head and said, “I saw the marshal rounding up men to help put out the fire. I’ve been on the other side of the barn and only just heard about the brave women who pulled the horses out.”

  “Inga and I heard a huge crackle of lightnin’ and a boom of thunder, but we didn’t run outside until the scent of smoke came in through the back window.”

  Still leaning against Reilly, she paused, drawing in a breath of air. “The closer we got, the more worried we were because we couldn’t see Mr. Peterson, but we could hear the horses goin’ mad inside.”

  The marshal shook his head. “I’m not sure what happened to Peterson. Doc’s looking at him now.” He kissed Inga’s forehead and hugged her close. “I’ve got to get back. We’ve got the fire under control, but we need to make sure it won’t spread to any of the other buildings in town.”

  “Thank the good Lord,” Jessi said, looking from one man to the other.

  She hesitated, and Masterson asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I hate to ask, but do ye think I could have a glass of water? Me throat is painin’ me.”

  Reilly lowered his brow until it rested against hers. “Aye, lass. Just promise me not to take such a chance again.”

  “Ye know I can’t do that.”

  “No,” he ground out, “I don’t know that.”

  “Well, then,” Jessi said, pushing out of his arms. “Ye’d best listen, because I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “ ’Tis just like the time I found ye at the top of the Norman tower.”

  “ ’Tisn’t the same thing at all, and ye know it,” she shot back.

  Reilly frowned at her and pushed to his feet. “Ye haven’t changed one bit, Jessi Fahy.”

  “More’s the pity.” She sighed, turning her back on him. “Neither have ye.”

  “The wind’s shifting, Marshal!”

  “Stay here,” Justiss ordered Inga.

  “You know better than to tell me what to do, Ben.”

  Reilly looked from one irritating female to the other and shook his head. “We’d have better luck controlling that fire in a high wind than we would convincing Jessi and Inga to listen to reason.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jessi and Inga had time for a hot cup of tea and a biscuit before they got to work. “Do ye think they’ve got it under control?”

  Inga shook her head. “It’s too soon to tell.” With a nod in the direction of her cookstove, she asked. “Would you stir the stew while I slice up the rest of this bread?”

  Jessi did as she was told, all the while worrying about the men battling the flames. “If the wind turns again, someone could get burned.” She didn’t have to say which someone s
he was worried about. Inga was a smart woman.

  “What about the marshal?”

  “Stubborn man,” Inga grumbled as she brushed breadcrumbs from her hands. “Thinking he can order me around.”

  Jessi snorted. “Me ma says that all men are the same, heads like bricks and hearts like stone.” As soon as the words were said, she wondered if her mother had been thinking of John’s father. He had turned his back on the woman he was promised to, Jessi’s mother, when he married John’s mother.

  Inga looked up at Jessi and shook her head. “Not all men are hard-hearted, although I grant you some are.”

  “Well, well,” a high-pitched voice said from the other side of the open back door. “Inga Swenson, you should take more care who you take in as boarders.”

  “Millie.” Inga nodded in greeting. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” When the woman didn’t take the hint, Inga sighed.

  Millicent Peabody drew in a deep breath and demanded, “When are you going to ask her to leave?”

  “Jessi is my guest and my friend, and as such is welcome as long as I say so.”

  Jessi hadn’t liked the woman the first time she met her. Her dislike increased tenfold. Although she knew better and could swear her mother was sitting on her shoulder warning her not to speak out, she did anyway. “What have I done to the likes of ye to give ye such a poor opinion of me?”

  As if that was all the invitation the woman needed, Millie stepped in to the kitchen and began to cite her reasons. “Brawling in public with a decent man, driving him to distraction until he’s picking fights with the men who have worked alongside of him every day for the last three years.”

  Jessi thought that she was finished, but the woman was only taking a breath to continue.

  “Riding out alone with a man you have only just met, disappearing for hours, knocking Mr. Peterson on the back of the head, setting fire to his barn and endangering the lives of every man, woman and child in our town.”

  The venom behind the woman’s words arrowed through Jessi. The list had been long, and while part of it might have had a tiny kernel of truth to it, most of what Millicent said didn’t.

  Before she could speak, Inga turned on the woman. “This is my place, and anyone who comes inside spouting vicious lies and slandering my guests or my friends will be evicted.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Millicent said, backing up one step closer to the door.

  Inga reached for the first thing she could find—the ladle she’d been stirring the stew with—and flung it at the woman’s head.

  Millie ducked, and the ladle struck the doorframe behind her hard enough to shake bits of meat, potato and gravy loose. It spattered in Millie’s face, and she turned and fled.

  Impressed, Jessi smiled. “Ye’ve fine reflexes, Inga,” Jessi said. “ ’Tis yer timin’ that needs work.”

  They burst out laughing.

  “Am I interrupting?” William Masterson stood on the porch, covered in soot and dripping with sweat.

  “Not at all, William,” Inga said. “We were just on our way over to the stable.”

  “What’s left of it,” he said, bending down to pick up the ladle. “Do you need this to serve your stew with?”

  His lips were twitching, and Jessi wondered if he’d heard the list of accusations Millie Peabody had hurled at her. His next words removed any doubt that he had overheard. “We weren’t gone for hours, and Maggie Turner will be the first to clear up any confusion in that regard.”

  “Mrs. Peabody doesn’t think much of me,” Jessi said. “Does she?”

  Inga shook her head, gathering up the kettle of stew. “If you’ll grab the coffeepot, Jessi. I can send one of the Burnbaum boys back for the cups, plates and utensils.”

  “Aye, but ye didn’t answer me question.”

  Masterson grabbed the kettle from Inga. “I won’t get any dirt in your stew,” he said with a grin. “I’ll carry it for you.”

  She nodded as she placed a small crock of butter in the basket of bread. “Can you handle the basket of bread, as well as the coffee?”

  Jessi smiled. “Me hand’s much better. I’ve got it.”

  Watching Inga gather up the plates, she asked, “Do ye have another basket or large pot?”

  Inga knew what she was getting at before Jessi could finish. Reaching up, Inga snagged another square-bottomed basket down from another peg and began to stack plates, cups, utensils and a few linen napkins. “I’m ready.”

  Masterson was waiting for them on the steps. “I wouldn’t mind what Millie Peabody has to say, Jessi. She can only hurt you if you let her.”

  Jessi knew that was true, but wondered about Masterson’s good name. Had she ruined him and John as well? “But what about the other townspeople? Do they believe her?”

  Masterson led the way to where a group of men stood, shoulders drooping, and heads bent.

  Jessi said, “They look as if they’ve been fightin’ a battle.”

  “They have,” Inga answered. “They’ve been fighting to save the town.”

  Jessi recognized a few faces as they drew closer. The marshal and Reilly were standing off to one side, watching a smoldering pile of ashes as if they expected it to flare up at any moment.

  On the other side of them stood the men who worked with Reilly and Masterson at the Flaherty ranch. She was about to ask Inga who the others were, when a deep voice called out, “Aren’t you going to arrest her, Marshal?”

  A horrible feeling sliced through Jessi when she noticed the man was staring at her. Had Millicent spread her lies out here as well? Did the newcomer think her capable of starting a fire and hurting poor Mr. Peterson?

  “Now, Peabody,” the marshal began, shaking his head at the man. “No call to jump to conclusions when you know as well as I do that lightning started the fire at the stable.”

  Peabody drew in a breath and straightened. “Who was the first one there?” he asked. “How do we know she’s not lying to cover up for the fact that she’s bent on causing trouble in our town and has been since she set foot off the stage?”

  Anger mixed with fear, a volatile combination, and one that always had Jessi’s temper flaring high. “Ye don’t know me!” she shouted at the man. “How can ye say such things, slanderin’ me good name?”

  The man smiled at her. “Do you need any other proof?” he said, looking at the men gathering closer. “Another public display of hoydenish behavior.”

  Jessi felt as if she’d been slapped. She’d done nothing to deserve the man’s censure. She looked over to where Reilly stood next to the marshal, but neither man appeared to be disturbed in the slightest that she was under attack. Neither one moved, though their heads were bent together and they were speaking too quietly for her to hear what they were saying.

  Inga stepped in front of Jessi and called out. “I’ve stew, bread, butter and coffee.”

  The men started moving forward, when she added, “Everyone is welcome to eat, but I’ll only serve the men smart enough to thank Jessi for risking her life by going into the burning barn to save the horses most of you stable there.”

  “What about those of us who don’t keep horses at Peterson’s?” one man called out. “Will you let us eat?”

  Inga nodded. “If you thank Jessi for saving Mr. Peterson’s life.”

  Jessi shook her head. “ ’Twas Inga and meself that pulled the man and his horses out of the barn. Flat on his face he was,” she added. “We didn’t have time to see how badly he was hurt. The horses—” She had to swallow past the lump of fear lodged in her throat. It hadn’t been there earlier when she should have been afraid, but it was there now. When she had her emotions under control, she cleared her throat, “The poor beasts were cryin’ out in fear. ’Twas a terrible sound.”

  One by one, the men separated and came forward to where Inga and Jessi had set their baskets, next to the huge pot of stew Masterson had carried for them.

  “Thank you, Jessi,” the first one said.
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br />   “ ’Tis Miss Fahy to the likes of ye,” Reilly called out, shoving his way to the front of the line. “I thought ye’d be restin’.”

  Seeing anger on his face was so common and familiar a sight and so welcome, Jessi found she could smile. It was as if the past six years hadn’t happened. He’d been so angry the last time he’d saved her from falling into the pond the winter before he’d left. It was a look she’d never forget and welcomed immediately.

  “I’m much stronger than ye remember, John.”

  His eyes flared with an emotion she’d never seen there before. It was close enough to caring that she didn’t dare ask him if it mattered whether or not she’d come out of the barn alive. She could see it plain as day.

  He swore under his breath, and she giggled acknowledging Reilly’s words and turning them back on him saying, “Now I’d have thought that wasn’t possible.”

  Reilly’s face flushed beneath the layer of soot covering it. “Ye’ve always been a hardheaded female, Jessi Fahy,” he ground out. “Contrary and just plain…”

  He seemed to be at a loss for words. Marshal Justiss stepped forward. “Thank you both for saving Mr. Peterson.” He smiled at Jessi and added, “I think Reilly meant to thank you. He didn’t mean to call you contrary or accuse you of being female.”

  Inga tossed an enameled cup at his head, but the marshal was quick on his feet. He ducked and caught it in his hand. “Why, I’d love some coffee, Mrs. Swenson.”

  Reilly snorted and Masterson started to chuckle. The tension evaporated, and the men who’d fought to save the town with their buckets and shovels came forward to thank the women who’d fought to save it with their hearts and their hands.

  When the last man had been served and the stew pot scraped clean, Jessi turned to Inga. “Why did ye get so angry with the marshal,” she asked. “ ’Tis plain the man loves ye.”

  Inga shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  Jessi remembered hearing Aiden talk about one of the women in town and the rumors that she’d been unfaithful, and wondered if that was what worried her friend. “Do ye think he spends time with other women when he’s not here with ye?”