The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  “I agree,” Justiss said. “But you’ll see her here.”

  “But Ben—”

  “Don’t you want this baby?”

  Inga stiffened. “You know that I do.”

  “Then try to understand and accept that I don’t want you to do anything that might put you or the baby at risk.”

  She nodded as he stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms. After a moment, she asked, “What doesn’t a man get over?”

  He let his chin drop to the top of her head. “The way the woman he loves feels in his arms.”

  “And ye said he wasn’t one for sweet words,” Jessi chided.

  “So she said that?” Justiss asked.

  “Aye and then she said—”

  “Don’t you have a cake batter to finish?” Pearl asked.

  “Oh, aye!” Jessi said, adding the rest of the flour and milk.

  After she poured the mixture into the pan, she put it in the oven. “I’ll have to be tellin’ ye more another time, Ben,” she said, smiling up at the couple. “I’ve work.”

  Pearl was laughing as she walked to the back door. “I’ll bring the ladies around tomorrow afternoon.”

  “We’d love to see them,” Jessi said. “Tell them I’ve made cake.”

  Ben pulled Inga closer to the kitchen table and reached out to taste the batter. “Mmmm. Is this one of Mrs. Reilly’s recipes?”

  “Aye, her tea cake,” Jessi said.

  “Do you think there’ll be any left after you women get through with it?”

  Jessi laughed out loud. “I can make two as easily as one.”

  “Inga, I think we should keep Jessi and let Reilly find someone else to marry.”

  “ ’Tis what I’ve been tellin’ himself since the other day,” Jessi said. “But he doesn’t listen.”

  “Don’t you want to marry Reilly?” Justiss asked.

  Jessi looked up at the marshal and shrugged. “Sometimes I do, and then sometimes…”

  Moving so Inga was held close to his side, Justiss asked, “Does he know how you feel?”

  “He’s set in his ways and doesn’t like to be contradicted.”

  Justiss nodded. “That’s true. But have you told him you don’t want to marry him.”

  “ ’Tisn’t that I don’t want to marry him, exactly.”

  Frowning at her, the marshal asked, “What exactly is it then?”

  “I’ve some things I need to discuss with the man, but if he won’t listen, then I won’t be marryin’ him.”

  “Well, now I’m confused.”

  Inga smiled and smacked Ben’s hand as he reached out to dip his finger into the cake batter a second time. “I wanted more,” he said, looking hurt.

  “Sometimes men don’t always know what’s good for them,” Inga told him.

  “Why do I get the feeling that there’s a hidden meaning that I’m supposed to figure out?”

  “Because you’re Marshal Ben Justiss, the man I love. The man I might marry.”

  “What’s going on here today? First Jessi, now you?”

  “Well, you haven’t asked me when I’d like to get married, or what I’m wearing, or if I want to get married here or over at the church.”

  Justiss’s eyes glazed over, and Inga took pity on him. “We can talk about it later. Tonight when the lights are low.”

  The rest of what she said was meant only for the marshal, so Jessi busied herself with finishing up the cake and beginning to mix a second one.

  “Why don’t ye go on up and rest, Inga. Ye’ll be needin’ yer sleep now if ye intend to stay up later.”

  “Imp!” Justiss scolded as he placed a kiss on Inga’s brow. Laying his hand on her slightly rounded stomach, he told her he loved her and tipped his hat to Jessi.

  “Ladies, I’m needed over at the jail.”

  “We’ll put the supper on, then,” Jessi called out after him. “Ye’d best get upstairs, Inga. Ye’ve a lot to rest up for.”

  Inga was laughing as she walked out of the kitchen.

  “If only I had the courage to tell John about the plan his mother and I made.”

  “What plan would that be?”

  “John Declan Reilly!” Jessi cried. “Ye scared the life out of me.”

  “Not from where I’m standin’. Ye look radiant, lass. Ye must be feelin’ more yerself.”

  “Aye, that I am. And yerself?”

  “Fine,” he said, before nodding at the bowl in front of her. “Is that tea cake?”

  “ ’Tis.”

  Before Jessi could stop him, he had a finger in the bowl and was licking batter from it. “Tastes like me ma’s.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  “She gave you her recipe for her tea cake.”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked her for it.”

  “It’s one of me favorites.”

  Jessi rolled her eyes at him. “ ’Tis why I asked her for it.”

  “And she knew you were going to be baking it for me?”

  “She hoped I might.”

  “Why?”

  “Aren’t ye full of questions today?”

  John’s face lost all expression and he slowly backed away from Jessi. “Ye planned to come here to find me.”

  Her heart stumbled and missed a beat. “I’ve already said as much.”

  “Ye didn’t protest when I asked ye to marry me.”

  “Ye didn’t ask.”

  “The hell I didn’t.”

  “Ye told me. ’Tisn’t the same thing.”

  “And ye didn’t refuse me.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Have ye sent a letter home yet, tellin’ me ma yer plan to trick me into marriage worked?”

  “What are ye talkin’ about?” Worry sliced through her as she watched the way John backed slowly toward the door.

  “Deny that you and me mother planned for ye to come to America to find me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Armed with the Reilly family Bible.”

  “I’ve already told ye she gave it to me.”

  “What other recipes did she give you?”

  “A few others.”

  “Butter cake?”

  “Aye.”

  “Spice cake with raisins?”

  “Aye.”

  “Bloody hell, Jessi. Those are me favorites.”

  “I’d have to be daft entirely to leave Ireland with yer brother Aiden’s favorite recipes, now wouldn’t I?”

  John opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Shaking his head, he turned around and walked out the door without another word.

  “Well, then,” she said to herself. “ ’Tis a good thing I’m not ready to get married. I think I’ve just pushed away me groom.”

  Jessi ignored the first tear that fell. Sniffing back the others, she concentrated on mixing the cake she’d promised the marshal and started preparing a third just for Reilly. “If I can’t convince him that we meant no harm and we weren’t trying to trick him, the least I can do is make the man’s favorite cake.”

  A few hours later, she walked outside and leaned against the railing to watch the sun dip low in the sky. Its fiery rays illuminated the tops of the trees. It wasn’t as glorious as Ireland, but it had a raw beauty all of its own.

  Jessi didn’t know how long she’d be in Colorado, but for the time being she would get to know everything she could about the new country she was in and see if she would be staying after John realized he couldn’t marry her.

  She wasn’t a green girl any longer. She’d had a woman’s heart for years, but now she had the mind to go with it. Her instincts told her Reilly felt tricked, used—and by his own mother. That Jessi played a part in the trickery had him lumping the two of them together.

  Wasn’t it a pity that she was the only guilty female handy, on whom to take out his frustration? He hadn’t really been angry just now, but she had a feeling the next time she saw him he would be.

>   “Maybe I should make the spice cake as well.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” Flynn called out as Reilly rode up to the barn and dismounted.

  “ ’Tis the trouble with everyone around here,” Reilly grumbled, leading his horse over to the corral. “Thinkin’ leads to trouble.”

  Flynn watched him remove the saddle and start rubbing his horse down. “Why don’t you let Mick do that?”

  “Me horse wants me to groom him,” Reilly bit out. “Don’t ye have something to be doin’?”

  Flynn shook his head. “It’s too early to break out the whiskey. Flaherty’d have our hides.”

  Reilly paused and leaned his head on his horse’s neck and started laughing. “Since I’m on me way straight to hell,” he said, lifting his head, “may as well enjoy the trip.”

  Flynn’s eyes widened. “Flaherty is off in the south pasture with Masterson and the Murphy brothers.”

  Reilly smiled. “All we have to do is distract Bridget while one of us goes in and grabs the bottle.”

  Flynn grinned, walked over and slapped Reilly on the back. “Whose turn is it to charm Bridget away from the whiskey cabinet?”

  Reilly thought about it for a moment and shook his head. “I’ve lost track.” Looking at his friend, he shrugged. “I’ve used up me charm today.”

  Flynn nodded. “You’d best be telling me what happened while you were in town, Reilly. A bit of the Irish will help loosen your tongue.”

  Reilly nodded. Flynn was right. He needed to unload the burden he’d been carrying around for the last few days and the cutting truth he’d just learned from the woman he had planned to marry. “I’ll watch out for himself and the others.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Flynn headed to the back of the ranch house.

  Reilly watched him go and listened for the delighted laughter he knew would follow. Flynn had a golden tongue and could charm the boots off anyone.

  Two minutes later Flynn was walking out the back door with the bottle in one hand and Bridget’s arm hooked with his.

  “Come on up, Reilly,” Flynn called out. “The woman of the house just pulled scones fresh from the oven.”

  “Scones?”

  Bridget was smiling as he walked over to the porch. “I have some of Inga’s strawberry preserves and fresh cream.”

  Reilly smiled for the second time that day. “And here I thought we’d be goin’ hungry waitin’ until supper.”

  Bridget shook her head at him. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll prepare you something to eat.”

  “And have Flaherty chasing me out of the kitchen and back to me duties?”

  She frowned. “Is he working you too hard, John?”

  The worry in her eyes pulled at him. It was nice to have someone with a sweet face like Bridget Flaherty worrying about him. “I’m used to hard work. Best not borrow trouble worryin’ about the likes of me.”

  She opened the kitchen door and walked over to the table. “Someone has to worry about you.” Bridget quickly set out empty plates, cream and preserves. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have tea?”

  “Thank ye, no,” Reilly answered. “As soon as we’re finished here, we’ll be going out to the barn.”

  Flynn nodded. “We’ve work.”

  Bridget looked from one man to the other and sighed. “You don’t have to drink in the barn. You can sit here where I know you won’t end up falling down and cracking your skulls on anything dangerous.”

  “Ye’ve knives and other sharp utensils aplenty in yer kitchen, Bridget.”

  She smiled at Reilly. “If I put them away so you can’t get into trouble, will you stay?”

  “She hasn’t handed over the scones yet,” Flynn reminded him.

  Reilly eyed the plate of scones she held and nodded. “All right, we’ll drink here.”

  Two hours later Mick walked into the kitchen. “Reilly was supposed to bring the wagon over to the mercantile so we could bring the load of feed back. I can’t imagine where—”

  Bridget had her back to him, stirring the supper. She turned and smiled. “Mick. I was so busy this morning I didn’t realize you’d ridden into town and not out with your pa.”

  Mick smiled at her. “I still like the way it feels, calling him that.”

  “He loves you,” she said simply, and Mick nodded.

  “Who’s that singing?”

  Bridget grinned. “John and Michael are just outside—”

  “Pa’s gonna bust if he finds out they’ve been drinking in the middle of the day.”

  Bridget held out her hand to stop him. “Something happened this morning—between John and Jessi.”

  Mick shrugged. “That’s no reason to lift a bottle.”

  Her eyes teared up. “You’ve grown up while my back was turned.”

  “Mama, Mama!”

  “In the kitchen, Emma.” Bridget wiped her hands on a flour-sack towel and sighed. “I thought she’d sleep longer.” Hurrying to the front of the house, she called out, “Don’t run down those stairs.”

  “Whiskey, yer me darlin’—” Reilly paused. “I can’t remember the words. What’s next, Flynn?”

  Flynn snorted. “Drunk or sober.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  “Certain.”

  “Ye wouldn’t be makin’ it up just to mess with me mind?”

  Flynn crossed his heart and raised the whiskey. “Haven’t we shared most of this bottle between us?”

  Reilly nodded and held his hand out for Flynn to pass it to him. “We have.”

  “And didn’t I charm fair Bridget so we could have the bottle in the first place?”

  Reilly tipped his head back and drank, wiped his sleeve across his mouth and passed the bottle back.

  “Ye surely have a knack for flattery, Flynn.”

  “Pa’s gonna be mad when he finds out the feed hasn’t been picked up yet.”

  Reilly turned around slowly and swayed. “Feed?”

  Mick narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “You were supposed to get the wagon,” he said. “I waited forever for you.”

  Flynn snickered. “Not if you’re standing here now.”

  “You never drink in the middle of the day,” Mick said to them. “What happened?”

  “Don’t mind Reilly,” Flynn told the boy. “His heart’s been broken, and it needed the soothing powers of the Irish to ease his pain.”

  “Are you talking about Miss Jessi?”

  Flynn leaned close to Reilly and said, “The boy’s a smart one.”

  Reilly agreed. “No woman will get the better of the lad, unless she does.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Mick began only to be interrupted by his mother.

  “Is everything all right out here?” Bridget stood in the doorway with a sleepy Emma on her hip.

  “They’re drunk as skunks,” Mick answered.

  “Ye’d be wrong about that,” Reilly ground out. “We bathed just last night.”

  “True,” Flynn said. “Had to change the bathwater twice. Remember, Bridget?”

  She shook her head at the men and sighed. “If I had known you were going to drink most of the bottle, I wouldn’t have given it to you.”

  “But ye did, lass,” Reilly said. “And me and Flynn are in yer debt.”

  Bridget kissed the top of Emma’s head when she wriggled to get down. “Mick will help you reach your treat, won’t you, Mick?”

  Mick held out his hand to his sister. “Can you eat without your dolly?”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “She might be hungry, too,” she said looking up at Mick. “Do I have to share?”

  Mick laughed, and looked over his shoulder at the men struggling to get to their feet. “Sometimes sharing gets you into trouble.”

  “Aye,” Reilly answered. “Unless it’s a bottle with a friend.”

  “Friends share whiskey,” Flynn agreed.

  “What about problems?” Bridget asked as
the men leaned against the railing. “Do friends tell each other their problems?”

  “Aye,” Reilly answered. “Though sometimes, they’re too dark to share.”

  Bridget shook her head at him and said, “The darkest ones are meant to be shared. How else can we expect to fix them?”

  Reilly was quiet for a while. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t to Flynn, but to Bridget. “Jessi and me own mother plotted against me.”

  Bridget looked over at Flynn, who shook his head slightly before moaning and reaching up both hands to hold it in place. A look at Reilly, and she sensed he needed to tell the rest. “What did they do to you, John?”

  Reilly swung his whole body toward her and stumbled on the top step. Reaching out, he grabbed the railing and caught himself in time. “Me ma knows about me chin.”

  “It’s a fine chin, John,” Bridget soothed.

  Flynn snickered. “Weak as a china plate.”

  Bridget shushed him and turned to Reilly. “Even Sampson had a weakness.”

  “Aye,” Reilly ground out. “A woman!”

  Bridget put her hands on her hips and rounded on him. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Spoken like a female,” Reilly said, looking at his friend. “Only another man would understand what it feels like to be trapped into marriage.”

  “How has Jessi trapped you?”

  “She’s here, isn’t she?”

  Bridget looked him up and down and sighed. “You’re a lot bigger than she is, John.”

  He looked down at himself and nodded. “Can’t be helped.”

  She chuckled softly. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Watch her,” Flynn warned. “She’s female, too.”

  “Michael!” Bridget scolded. “I’m trying to get John to understand that just because Jessi traveled on a ship, the size of which even I can’t imagine, sick as a dog the entire time, and then went by train and finally by stagecoach in a strange country all alone doesn’t sound like she was trying to trick you into marrying her.”

  “But—” Reilly began.

  Bridget rolled right over him. “I’m not finished.” When he fell silent, she nodded. “Was it the right cross to your chin that convinced you she traveled all the way to marry you?”

  Reilly opened his mouth, but Bridget held up her hand and he wisely closed it.