The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  “Come on, Reilly,” Mick urged. “We need to dump this one out so they can fill it up again.”

  Reilly blinked and picked up one side of the tub, while Mick struggled with his side. Just when Jessi thought he was going to drop it, Pearl’s husband appeared and lifted Mick’s side so it was even with Reilly’s.

  Jessi would have blushed, but she had no maidenly sensibilities left. They’d been ripped from her when the outlaws tore at her clothes, exposing parts of her that had never seen the light of day. Then had laid their filthy hands and dirty mouths on her. Cruelly pinching and biting her in places that still ached.

  She met Reilly’s direct gaze, ignored the sympathy in his and turned away. She didn’t look back until they’d brought the tub back and had filled it up again. This time Maggie and Inga sat with Jessi and got her to talk about why she left the house in the first place.

  “Truth be told,” Jessi said, “me temper was up, because of John and the marshal.”

  Maggie nodded. “Of course it was. Both men can be tryin’ to the most patient of females.”

  Jessi looked at her and nodded, then turned to Inga. “I didn’t want to break your confidence, but John forced me to tell Ben everything that Doc said.”

  Inga patted her hand. “It’s all for the best. Ben and I had a long talk while you were gone.”

  Jessi waited for Inga to berate her, but she didn’t.

  “He asked about my first husband and doesn’t mind that I will always hold a special spot in my heart for Lars.”

  Maggie whispered, “Joshua understood about Rory, as well.”

  Jessi tilted her head to one side. “Were you married before?”

  Maggie sighed. “I was to be married, but me darlin’ Rory died in me arms.”

  Jessi’s eyes filled. “I’m sorry.”

  “He was a good man, and best friend to Seamus.”

  Inga was listening intently but not speaking, and that worried Jessi. So she asked, “Ye still miss yer man?”

  Inga nodded. “Now and again on the nights when Ben is away, when I’m all alone in bed, I think of how we used to fall asleep with our arms wrapped around one another, or with our hands clasped.”

  “He must have been a wonderful man.”

  Inga laughed, “He irritated the life out of me half the time…”

  Her voice trailed off and Maggie finished the sentence for her. “ ’Tis the other half of the time that truly counted.”

  Inga and Maggie laughed, easing more of the tension surrounding Jessi until at last she was able to confide in them, “I thought they would rape me, leave me for dead, and no one would ever know.”

  The blanket was pushed aside and Reilly stood with his hands fisted at his sides. “I’ve failed ye, lass, but I intend to make it up to ye.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here!” Inga tossed a thin blanket across Jessi and tried to get Reilly to move so she could pull the blanket back into place.

  When she did, he ripped it down. “Can’t ye see she needs me?” His voice broke and his eyes filled.

  Jessi saw his pain and nodded. “ ’Tis all right. John won’t ever hurt me.”

  “You’ve compromised her reputation,” Inga pointed out.

  Reilly stared down at Jessi, brushed the tears from his eyes and announced, “No one in town would dare speak ill of me future wife.”

  Jessi’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

  Maggie stood in front of the tub and crossed her arms, resting them atop her stomach. “Ye’ll not force the lass, if she’s not ready to wed ye.”

  “I’d never force Jessi to do anythin’,” Reilly announced. “But she will wed me and like it.”

  Jessi peeked around Maggie and nodded, “Aye, John. I’ll marry ye.”

  “When?” he asked.

  “Can we wait until me bruises are gone?”

  He nodded. “The ones on yer face.”

  She flinched, but didn’t turn from him. “Are ye certain sure ye won’t regret yer decision?”

  Reilly’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t waver. “I’ll make ye a good husband, Jessi Fahy.”

  “I never thought you wouldn’t,” she whispered.

  “Imagine that,” Maggie beamed at the couple. “Another wedding in Emerson!”

  “Where shall we hold it?” Pearl asked.

  “Can ye not let the lass dry herself off and get dressed?” The deep voice had the women jumping and noticing that John Reilly and Davidson Smythe weren’t the only men in the room. Ben Justiss, Seamus Flaherty and Joshua Turner had just walked in from the hallway.

  “Since Reilly yanked down our temporary wall, he can just stand there and hold it back up while the poor thing gets out of the tub.” Inga put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “And no peeking. You’ll see your bride soon enough.”

  “Bride?” Justiss asked. “You’re getting married?”

  “Aye,” Reilly answered. “The lass has said she’ll have me.”

  “I was going to wait to ask Inga.”

  “Ask me what?” she demanded, coming to stand beside him.

  “If you’d marry me.”

  For the first time in her life, Inga was speechless.

  “Isn’t this grand?” Maggie’s excitement was catching. Soon the women were huddled together behind the curtain, helping Jessi dress and talking about the weddings, when Justiss interrupted them.

  “Inga hasn’t answered me yet.”

  “He’s right!” She grabbed the edge of the blanket and peeked around it. “Yes.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “It was a simple question,” she reminded him.

  “Isn’t there anything else you wanted to say to me when you accepted my proposal?”

  Inga let go of the blanket and walked around to stand in front of him. “There is,” she said, kissing his cheek. “But I’m saving it for when we’re alone.”

  Jessi couldn’t say why the sudden silence bothered her. Maybe it was the fact that John had been watching her without speaking. As she turned to look at the others, she realized they’d all stopped to watch her like a hawk. She felt like the little brown field mouse she’d seen a huge hawk swoop down and grab with its talons. Remembering how gruesome it had been to watch the hawk tear the mouse apart, she looked away.

  Unable to stand the silence any longer, she turned to Inga. “Sure and it’s lucky ye are that a man as fine as Ben has asked ye to be his bride.” Although she didn’t think the man would be as cruel as the filthy outlaws in his treatment of Inga, there was the worry at the back of her mind that when he and Inga were all alone, another side of the marshal would appear. “Would ye mind if I went upstairs?” Jessi wanted to be alone to think.

  “Shall I go up with ye, lass?” Reilly’s voice sounded rough, as if it pained him to speak.

  “I can find me way.” Was the man worried now that she’d disappear again? “I promise not to get lost on me way up.”

  When the marshal chuckled, she knew at least one of the men had a sense of humor. Wasn’t it a pity that he wasn’t the man she’d promised to wed?

  She heard him following her and thought about turning around to face him and ask if he trusted her, but she was too weary. The scented bath had eased some of the shock she’d suffered, but not all of it. That would come back when she was alone with her thoughts.

  Jessi called out over her shoulder, “I don’t suppose we could send for yer mother?”

  “Why would ye want to do that?”

  She slowly turned to face him, bothered by the sadness in his dark-brown eyes. “She’ll be missing her son’s wedding.”

  “I thought Aiden had married already.”

  Jessi shrugged. “He’s a lot like ye, John. Not one to rush into things like yer younger brother.”

  “I’d have to send her enough money to buy a ticket,” he said. “Then there’s the long ocean voyage and the journey by train.”

  “Don’t forget the train doesn’t come all th
e way to Emerson.”

  John’s hands clenched at his sides. She knew that he was wondering how she’d made the long journey all alone but also that he was smart enough not to ask outright—yet. Her thoughts turned to what had happened to her at the hands of the outlaws and John’s sudden proposal.

  Why would he want to marry her after what she’d been through? If they were back home, she’d be considered soiled goods and not fit to marry. Father Feeney might not consent to marry her to anyone, even if she went to confession the whole rest of her life.

  Relief swept through her. John’s eyes were so expressive. Did he know that everything he felt showed in their dark-brown depths? She knew that he pitied her, though if she asked, he’d deny it. If there was one thing John Reilly understood, it was pride.

  Why was she thinking about pride now? She should have been thinking about it that first day and kept her hands and fists to herself.

  She wondered if John would care that she knew his thoughts. How else would she have been able to track him down when they were children? Besides, Aiden usually complained about his younger brothers to their mother, and Jessi would eventually find out where the boys would be headed—usually it was trouble.

  Would it matter to John now that she could still read him like a book? Maybe instead of trying to figure out what the man was thinking or about to do, she should spend the time to get to know him better. If she and John Reilly were to wed, then she’d best figure out how to get along with him.

  It had been a long time since John had spoken. She was too tired now to talk. Thinking with her eyes closed wouldn’t take all that much energy, and she was sorely lacking.

  “Good night, then.”

  John looked up at her and then down at his still-clenched-and-fisted hands. “Sleep well.”

  As if he just realized that he’d asked the impossible of her, he held out a hand to her. Smiling sadly, she shook her head and turned from him. She didn’t want the man’s pity. John Reilly was a smart man and should be able to figure it out on his own, but just in case he couldn’t, she’d have to find the courage to tell him.

  * * *

  Reilly watched Jessi walk away from him. His gut clenched, though it was completely empty. He wondered if he’d retch again. Fighting with all of the control he possessed, he managed to watch his intended walk away from him. From the slight slump of her shoulders, he knew that she’d spend most of the night awake and thinking instead of asleep and dreaming.

  He jumped and spun around, fists raised, when someone touched his shoulder. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he swore. “I could have knocked ye on yer arse.”

  Flaherty grunted. “You could have tried.” Looking in the direction of the steps to the second floor, Flaherty asked, “Will she be all right?”

  Reilly shrugged. “Tonight, probably not.” The need to go over to the jail and strip a pound of flesh from the four men who’d dared to touch Jessi Fahy was so strong he could taste it.

  His friend knew what he was thinking. “You know Justiss won’t allow you to get close to the outlaws again,” Flaherty said. “Don’t you?

  Reilly felt his face heat with his anger. “What would ye do if it was Bridget?”

  Flaherty’s face tightened. “It hasn’t been that long. Don’t you remember?”

  Reilly looked away. “I remember. But they didn’t brutalize Bridget. It’s not the same.”

  “She and Emma were abducted,” Flaherty ground out. “And for a short time, she thought her son, her pride and joy, had joined the outlaw gang.”

  “I don’t know what to do for her,” Reilly whispered. “What if she never gets over what happened to her? What if she’s not tellin’ me the whole of it? What if there’s more? What if—”

  Flaherty put a hand on Reilly’s arm, effectively silencing him. “Let it go.”

  Reilly imagined how the knife would feel in his hand as he made each and every one of the men who’d violated Jessi pay for every touch, every bite, every bruise with a bit of their own flesh. “I have no intention of ever forgettin’ or lettin’ go.”

  He pushed past Flaherty and stalked outside.

  The air was still damp from the recent rain. He wondered if the sun would be able to cleanse Jessi’s pain. The sun always worked when they’d been back home. But in Ireland, she’d never been hurt as she had been earlier tonight. Yes, there were unscrupulous people living back home, but she would have nothing to fear if she wandered about the countryside back home, and that was what bothered him the most.

  “Why the hell did she come here?”

  The night was quiet, so he walked into it. “She was happy back home. Wasn’t she?”

  He didn’t remember any of his mother’s letters mentioning that she hadn’t been. Then again, most times his mother only mentioned that Jessi spent a part of every day at their home, helping wherever his mother needed her.

  Why? Was there something wrong with his mother that she needed the daily help? Where the hell were his brothers? They’d made a bargain before he left. He’d send back as much money as he was able, to help keep the farm going in his absence. In return, his brothers would take care of their mother and let Reilly know, God forbid, if there was anything the matter.

  Pounding out his anger and frustration at not finding Jessi before the bastards got their hands on her eased some of the ache building up inside of him. Only watching the men bleed out would ease the terrible guilt that would continue to eat him alive for the rest of his life.

  Two miles outside of town, he looked up and realized he’d walked farther than he’d planned. A brief glance around him, and he knew what had happened to Jessi. She’d been walking and thinking, but she didn’t know the area as well as he did, and she got lost.

  Truth be told, he’d gotten turned around himself, though he wouldn’t be admitting that to anyone anytime soon. Tilting his head back he looked up at the sky. What was it about this place that pulled at him? Why was he still here? He had a family who loved him and a beautiful country waiting for his return.

  The image of Pearl Smythe filled his head, but he shook it away. He’d decided to stay on in Colorado long before he’d thought she’d be the woman he could spend the rest of his life with.

  And wasn’t it Jessi Fahy’s pixie face that had filled his mind the last time he’d spoken to Pearl and found out that she loved Smythe? That wasn’t the sign of a man who was totally taken with a woman. Up until that moment in time, he hadn’t really thought about the lass at all.

  He kicked a patch of loose scrub and kept walking. What would have possessed the lass to travel so far? He’d long known that life at her home wasn’t the same as his. Her mother wasn’t easy to live with, but he sensed Jessi’s trip to America had to be more than that.

  Long treks through the surrounding countryside, and a time or two cutting peat in the bog had revealed the lass’s love for Ireland. There had to be a very powerful reason for her to leave.

  Planting his boot heel, Reilly spun around and headed back to town and the woman who had worked her way under his skin like a splinter. What he couldn’t decide was whether to yank her out or leave her there and let him grow around her, learning about the woman she’d become instead of remembering the girl she’d been.

  He walked back into town as the sun was fully up. Without thinking about where he was headed, he ended up at the boarding house. Flaherty was waiting for him.

  “Where’s Bridget?”

  “Asleep. Upstairs. Maggie’s still asleep on the couch.”

  Reilly shook his head, thinking of Flaherty’s sister. She was the first woman he’d met who had attracted him since he’d left home, but it was plain as day that she’d had feelings for the now-retired marshal.

  “Did you sort it out?”

  “What?” Reilly asked.

  “Whatever took you away from the woman upstairs, who’s been calling for you for the last hour.”

  Every ounce of spit dried up in Reilly’s mouth. He couldn’t speak
; he couldn’t think. Hadn’t he told the lass he’d be there for her? She’d trusted that he would and had needed him, and he’d left her.

  Pushing past Flaherty, Reilly sprinted through the kitchen and up the stairs. Hesitating outside Jessi’s door, he stood there with his hat in his hands. What could he say that would excuse the fact that he’d gone back on his word, that he hadn’t been there for her?

  While he was deciding just what to say, the door opened and Jessi stood before him, looking fresh and lovely.

  “Jessi?”

  “John,” she acknowledged without more than a brief glance in his direction before sweeping past him toward the staircase.

  “Where the hell are ye goin’?”

  She didn’t stop, slow down or turn around. “Breakfast.”

  While he stood there wondering what had come over the lass since he’d left her at this same door a few hours before, she continued down the stairs and disappeared from his line of sight.

  It was time to have a talk with her. He’d wanted to speak to her alone last night to get the full truth from her before she had time alone to relive everything she’d been through. Instead, he’d been incensed by what she’d said last night while she’d been bathing. Bathing, for God’s sake.

  And what did he do? Did he react rationally? No, not John Reilly. He ripped aside the blanket protecting her privacy and told her he intended to marry her.

  Did he ask her nicely? No.

  Did he consider the fact that she was in a tub of water and not fully clothed? No.

  Did he wait for her to get dressed? No.

  He was an eedjit. And an amadon—a large stupid lunk of an Irishman—just as his mother had always told him.

  Then why had she said yes?

  Why didn’t she stop to consider his proposal?

  Why didn’t she tell him she wanted to put some clothes on first before she answered the most important question of her life?

  Did it all come back to the real reason Jessi Fahy was in Emerson? Walking slowly down the hallway, he thought about it and realized he’d have to have a talk with the lass—soon.