The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  Pearl added. “We won’t go anywhere.”

  When Mick hesitated, Maggie waved him outside. “Ye can keep watch and be outside at the same time if ye lock the front door.”

  Mick’s face brightened. “I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later he strode past them and waved on his way out the back door. “Call me if you need me.”

  “We will, dear.” Bridget sighed. “He grows more like Seamus every day.”

  “That man is the best thing that ever happened to the pair of you,” Inga said, smiling at her friend.

  “And they are for me brother as well.” Maggie grinned, and everyone laughed.

  A little while later, Inga urged Maggie to go upstairs and lie down. She refused. “I want to be here when they bring Jessi back.”

  “At least lie down in the parlor,” Inga urged. “They will bring her back.” Inga needed to say the words aloud, reassured as the affirmation rang through the quiet of the house.

  * * *

  “Where do you think she was headed?” Justiss asked, as the men slowly followed the meandering trail that doubled back and crossed over itself more than once.

  “She must have been thinkin’ hard,” Reilly answered. “Back home, she’d wander about lost in her thoughts for hours.”

  “This isn’t Ireland,” Justiss began, only to be interrupted by Turner’s shout.

  “I’ve found something.”

  They guided their mounts over to where Turner knelt on the ground. “You see the prints here?”

  Justiss got down beside him and frowned. “Looks like four sets of hoof prints.”

  Turner nodded. “See over here?” he pointed to where the damp ground was churned up. “It looks like there was a scuffle.”

  Reilly’s gut roiled. “Do ye think they’ve taken me Jessi?”

  Justiss tilted his head to one side, but didn’t comment on the fact that, for the entire ride out of town, Reilly had taken to referring to the young woman as his. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Anything else?”

  Smythe stood off to the side, careful not to disturb the prints.

  Flaherty mounted first. Turner shook his head and remounted. The others followed suit and headed off in the direction of the prints. Dawn was just a few hours away, and the sky was growing lighter by the moment. The recent rain made it easier than usual to follow the trail, even with the help of the bright moonlight, but daylight would speed things up.

  Worry poked at Reilly’s conscience. It was his fault that Jessi’d wandered away. He knew she’d been upset, and he’d egged her on until she was mad enough to spit. Thinking of the picture Jessi Fahy made when her temper was high lightened his mood.

  Lord, he prayed. If yer listenin’, don’t let the bastards hurt her.

  A woman’s scream cut through the silence, shredding what was left of Reilly’s sanity. He jerked his reins toward the sound, and used his boot heels to urge his horse into a gallop.

  The other men were right behind him, but Reilly didn’t care. He had one thought: to get to Jessi before the bastards did her any more harm.

  Bile rushed up his throat, but he swallowed, forcing it back down into his churning stomach. He could puke later. Right now he needed to focus on the screams that grew louder. He was close. God let me be in time.

  Not caring that the outlaws would hear him approaching, Reilly yelled, “Touch her again and ye all die!”

  For a heartbeat the screaming stopped and Reilly’s world ground to a halt. Jessi lay on her back with her skirts bunched up to her knees, crying. Her gaze locked with his.

  He cocked his Colt .45 and leveled a shot off between the first man’s feet, and in quick succession, fired off three more shots.

  The men danced back away from Jessi, giving Reilly time to aim again. This time he’d shoot their balls off for defiling something so beautiful and so pure—something that could have been his, if he’d been smart enough to reach out and accept the gift.

  “Reilly!”

  His finger froze on the trigger. “They hurt her, Justiss.”

  “And they’ll pay for it, Reilly,” he said quietly. “Lower your weapon and back off.”

  “Not until I—”

  “Please, John,” Jessi pleaded, sitting up. “I don’t want to be visitin’ ye in the hoosegow.”

  Tears filled Reilly’s eyes. “They hurt ye, Jessi, lass.”

  “Aye, John,” she whispered. “But yer here now.”

  The group of outlaws remained silent, never taking their gazes off of the bull of a man who dismounted and strode toward them, with his pistol still cocked and ready to fire. “Who touched ye, lass?”

  “Not now, Reilly,” Turner ground out, coming to stand beside him. “Here.” He handed Reilly a length of rope. “Tie that one up.”

  Reilly’s hands were shaking so badly, Flaherty pushed him out of the way. “Go to her. I’ll see to these bastards.”

  “Take her back to Inga’s,” Justiss urged.

  “We’ll meet you there later,” Smythe said.

  Reilly nodded and walked over to where Jessi sat with her legs curled tight to her backside. The way she trembled sliced through him like a hot knife through butter.

  When she looked up at him, the devastation in her eyes had him stopping before he could touch her. “They hurt ye,” he said again.

  She nodded, tears spilling over.

  “Where?”

  She looked away from him and shrugged.

  “Jessi, lass,” he said, going down on one knee beside her, “ye have to tell me, so I can help ye.”

  “Everywhere,” she whispered. Burying her head against her knees, she sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

  Reilly held onto what was left of his temper and gathered her in his arms. She whimpered, and he swore. “I’ll kill all of them, Justiss,” he bit out. “And ye won’t be able to stop me.”

  As if she were made of spun glass, Reilly placed her across his saddle and for the first time noticed the bruises high on her thighs, some small, about the size of a thumb, others larger, and what looked to be a ring of teeth marks. He gently pulled her shredded skirt to cover the marks; he’d never make it back to town without ripping the bastards’ hearts out if he had to look down at the evidence of their brutality.

  He mounted behind her and pulled her up against him. She whimpered again. “Where does it hurt the most, lass?”

  She didn’t answer at first and he was afraid she wouldn’t. Finally she rasped. “Me side.”

  Tucking her head beneath his chin, he asked, “Where else?”

  As they rode, she quietly told him. With each new place that ached, Reilly’s stomach roiled until he was afraid he’d puke before they got back to Inga’s.

  Finally, Reilly asked the question he most feared the answer to: “Did they rape ye, lass?”

  Jessi stiffened and was quiet for so long, he thought she didn’t understand what he was talking about. When she did answer, he wondered who was the one who didn’t understand.

  “They did everything but plant their disgusting man-parts in me,” she cried. “If what they did wasn’t rape, it should be. I need a hot bath,” she said as they reached the edge of town.

  “Aye lass, after Doc looks ye over.”

  “With lots of soap,” she said.

  “Done.” Reilly muttered. “Let me take ye to Doc. He’ll see to the worst of yer injuries.”

  Jessi leaned against him and whispered, “He can’t fix me heart, now can he?”

  Reilly vowed he’d protect the woman in his arms for the rest of her life if she’d let him. She never should have had to endure such cruel treatment. If she had stayed in Ireland, this never would have happened.

  “Doc!” Reilly called out. He didn’t have to wait long. The man must have been waiting for him to return.

  One look at the battered woman in Reilly’s arms, and the doctor held out his arms. “Let her down,” Doc ordered. “Gently now.”

  “Mind her ribs,” Reilly warned. “
They might be broken.”

  Reilly dismounted and left his horse to fend for itself. Jessi was more important. As soon as he stepped inside Doc’s office, he was shooed out. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m finished examining Miss Fahy.”

  “But I—”

  “See to your horse,” Doc ordered. “She’ll be safe with me,” he said. “I won’t hurt her.”

  “Don’t be long, John,” Jessi pleaded.

  He looked at her and the bile that had been plaguing him rushed up his throat. He shook his head and bolted outside.

  Mick found him a few minutes later, bent over and gasping.

  “What happened?” the boy asked. “Did they jump you from behind, hold you and punch you in the stomach?”

  Reilly’s wiped the tears from his eyes and stood. “Nay, lad.”

  Mick sensed that whatever happened was bad, but one look at Reilly and he knew he wasn’t hurt. “Is it Miss Jessi?”

  Reilly blinked and nodded. “Go on and tell Mrs. Swenson we’ve found Jessi, and she’ll be needin’ enough hot water for two baths.”

  “No one needs to take two baths,” Mick said, but one look from Reilly and he hurried to do as he was bade.

  Reilly watched him go and shook his head. “I hope ye never have to live with what I know.”

  After taking care of his mount, he braced himself, opened the door and walked back inside. Doc didn’t look at him, but motioned to the table. “Take a sip,” he urged. “The ginger tea will settle your stomach.”

  Reilly didn’t ask how the older man knew what had kept him outside longer than it should have taken him to care for his horse.

  “Jessi?”

  She didn’t look up, but nodded. “I’m ready to go when ye are, John.”

  “She’ll need to stay quiet for a few days.” Doc pitched his voice low, so he didn’t disturb her. “Her ribs are cracked, not broken,” he continued. “I’ve wrapped them, but want to see her tomorrow after she sleeps.” He handed a small brown bottle to Reilly. “See that she takes the laudanum.”

  “I will.” Holding the bottle, Reilly wondered if she’d be able to sleep at all after the nightmare she endured. “Can I speak to ye in private?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll be right outside, lass,” Reilly said. “Ye just call me name, and I’ll hear ye.”

  Jessi nodded, but didn’t speak, and that worried Reilly almost as much as the cruelty of the outlaws. He didn’t quite know how to ask the doctor what he needed to know, not for himself, but for Jessi’s sake.

  “Doc?” he began, only to fall silent.

  “I know what you need to hear, Reilly,” Doc said, shaking his head. “There are things that can be done to a woman that will scar her as badly as the actual act of rape,” he began, “especially when the woman is as innocent as Miss Fahy.”

  “Will she recover?”

  “Just what are you asking, son?” Doc waited quietly while Reilly struggled with the words.

  “If she were to marry, would she, could she—” In the end, he left his question unasked.

  Doc patted him on the shoulder. “Give her time, Reilly,” he advised. “Once the initial shock is over, she’ll heal. How much or how little is up to you.”

  “Why me?” Reilly asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “She trusts you more than anyone else and will need you to teach her that the love between a man and a woman, whether they’re married or not, can be a beautiful act.”

  “But we’re not married and I haven’t asked her—”

  “Then you’d best work up to it,” Doc told him.

  “What if I don’t want to marry anyone?” Reilly’s chest felt as if bands of steel were wrapped around him. He couldn’t draw in a deep breath.

  “Then you’ll not only lose the unconditional love of a wonderful woman, but you’ll watch her shrivel up and die inside until her shame and heartache eat her alive.” Doc took him by the shoulders and shook him. “Do you want that for the woman you love?”

  “I don’t love her…” Reilly’s voice trailed off.

  “Don’t you?” Doc prodded. “I’ve heard you call her your Jessi on more than one occasion. And the death grip you had on her after the fire led me to believe you loved her.” Doc shook his head and then stopped. “I’m sorry if I was wrong,” he said slowly. “I must have you confused with William Masterson.”

  At the reminder that she’d been out riding with the ranch hand, Reilly’s temper shot straight to boil. “Yer not wrong, and ye won’t tell another soul what happened to her out there,” Reilly demanded. “Do ye hear?”

  Doc smiled at him. “Loud and clear, Reilly.”

  Satisfied, Reilly nodded. “Are we through?”

  “Then you do?” Doc asked, prompting Reilly.

  “Do what?” Reilly’s head was pounding and his stomach was sore.

  Doc rolled his eyes. “Love that young woman.”

  Reilly sighed, “Aye. I can’t help it.”

  Doc smiled slowly. “Then don’t tell me,” he advised. “Tell her and soon. It’ll help with her healing.”

  Reilly took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair before setting the hat back on his head.

  Doc had his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it. He looked over his shoulder at Reilly and said, “Oh, and one more thing.”

  Reilly paused, “Aye?”

  The older man leaned close and whispered, “If she still seems despondent, have her talk to Pearl Smythe. She’ll understand and be able to talk to Miss Fahy.”

  Reilly always wondered how badly Pearl had been hurt by her first husband. Doc’s last statement confirmed what he’d thought. Too bad the man was already dead. Reilly itched to kill him, right after he took care of the four outlaws Justiss and his friends would be bringing in soon.

  “John?”

  The worry in Jessi’s voice pulled at his heart. “Coming.”

  “Tell her tonight,” Doc urged.

  Reilly nodded. “I will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Instead of letting her walk to the boarding house, Reilly lifted her carefully in his arms. Jessi was unusually quiet, pulling inside of herself, as Doc had predicted she would.

  “Have you got the laudanum?” Reilly asked.

  When she nodded, he told her, “Mick’ll have the ladies heatin’ water for yer bath,” he told her. “Won’t that be grand?”

  She nodded again and laid her head on his shoulder. He thought she was asleep until she whispered his name.

  “Aye, lass?”

  “Don’t be shamin’ me by tellin’ anyone what happened.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  “Ye’ll ask the men as well?”

  “I will.”

  “Thank ye, John.”

  “There’s somethin’ I need to ask ye, Jessi.”

  “Is it important?”

  “Aye.”

  They were close enough to the boarding house to see that Mick stood with his arms crossed at the base of the back steps while the women stood behind him on the porch.

  “Can it wait?” she asked.

  He sighed. “It’ll have to.”

  Acknowledging the boy’s efforts at keeping the women safe, Reilly praised him. “Good work, lad. Have ye asked about the bathwater?”

  Inga was the first to move. She walked over to Reilly and placed her hand on Jessi’s cheek and cupped it gently. “I’ve a bunch of dried lavender that we’ve added to the bathwater.”

  “Thank ye, kindly, Inga.”

  “Bring her inside, John.”

  Jessi burrowed closer to his heart. His overwhelming need to protect her battled with his failure to do so. He stepped inside the kitchen, surprised that it was filled with fragrant steam.

  “We didn’t think Jessi wanted to go all the way upstairs to have her bath,” Pearl explained. “This way, we’ll all be downstairs with her if she needs us.”

  Reilly noticed the huge blanket draped across th
e makeshift clothesline the women had rigged from one corner of the kitchen to the other, affording Jessi the privacy she needed, while at the same ensuring she wouldn’t be alone.

  “I’m sure Jessi’s grateful that ye’ve thought of everythin’.”

  When it came time to set her down, she wouldn’t let go at first. “John,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  “I’ll be in the parlor if ye need me.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say more, but in the end acquiesced. “Has the marshal come back yet?”

  Reilly looked at her upturned face and was heartsick, looking at the bruises marring her pale-as-milk skin. He clenched his hands into fists and had to fight to control his urge to pound them through the wall in frustration. “He should be along shortly. Call me if ye need me, lass, and I’ll be here.”

  Jessi nodded and the women took over, ushering Reilly and Mick down the hallway to the front parlor. Then they closed and locked the back door. Between the four of them, their chatter kept Jessi from sinking into the black pit of despair that would swallow her whole if she let it.

  Before she could protest, they had her stripped and were easing her into the tub of hot water. The soothing scent of lavender had her breathing deeply and thinking of Mrs. Reilly. The woman had lavender sachets tucked inside of her freshly laundered stacks of linens and beneath the pillows on the beds.

  Pearl and Bridget stayed with her. Between the two of them they washed Jessi’s long honey-blonde hair and scrubbed her skin until it was a soft, pale pink.

  If Pearl or Bridget noticed the bruises or knew what had caused them, neither said a word, making it easier for Jessi to relax. “Is it selfish of me to want to take a second bath?”

  Pearl tsked loudly and told her to hush, wrapping her in the drying cloth. Bridget called to Reilly and Mick to come and dump the wash water.

  When Reilly stepped around the partition, he stopped in his tracks and stared. Jessi didn’t know what was wrong with the man; he’d seen her wrapped in a drying cloth on more than one occasion in his mother’s kitchen back home. True, she’d been a bit of thing back then with no curves to speak of. Time had a way of changing people, both inside and out.