Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
For a peek at the first book of the McClintock series, The Texan’s Irish Bride, please keep reading:
*Note: Betsie Galloway Hirsch was briefly mentioned and Michael “Monk” Magonagle was introduced in The Most Unsuitable Husband. Monk also appeared in Gabe Kincaid.
Chapter One
Memphis, Tennessee 1888
Betsie Hirsch’s heart pounded so loud she feared it would explode. She stared at the ferocious man who’d come banging on her door then refused to listen to her. He might be no taller than her but he was built like a stevedore or prizefighter.
Pete Downum waved a piece of paper in her face. “Your man signed this house over to me. Now I find he’d done the same with O’Toole the day before. I want me money.”
She stood in the doorway blocking his entry. “How can I make you understand that Rolf left me nothing? I don’t have money to buy food for my child.”
He shook an angry fist in her face. “Understand this, girlie, I’ll have me money one way or the other. Pay or I’ll own you and your brat. You have three days or you can work off the debt entertaining customers in my hotel. I’ll sell the boy.”
Shuddering and grateful for the thick wooden barrier, she closed the door and turned the lock. What was she to do? Mr. O’Toole was coming tomorrow to inventory the home’s furnishings.
Liam tugged at her skirt. “Ma, let’s go eat.”
She lifted her child. “Ma will make your breakfast.” There was enough oatmeal left for two meals. Then what?
If it weren’t for her mending and sewing, she and Liam wouldn’t have had food half the time. She was a good seamstress, if she did say so herself. In the poor area where they lived, most residents couldn’t afford even her low fees.
As soon as she’d fed her son, she rushed to the bedroom she’d shared with Rolf. Prying up the loose board under the bed, she pulled out the train fare her mother had left her four years ago. Certainly she was lucky Rolf had never found the money or it would have been spent drinking and gambling along with a fist for her for keeping it secret. As it was, she’d had to use a bit for food since Rolf’s death.
Mam had never approved of Rolf. She’d sent fare through Mrs. Murphy so Betsie could escape whenever she needed to leave. That’s also how she received letters from Mam. Many times Betsie had considered leaving but she took her marriage vows seriously. Even if she hadn’t, Rolf told her many times if she left him he’d find her and kill her and their son.
Hoping there was enough of Mam’s cash for the train trip, Betsie sat down and counted what was left. She wanted to weep with relief. She had barely enough for the ticket and the cab fare to get her and Liam to the station, with a few coins to spare for food.
If only she had never met Rolf.
If only she’d listened to Mam’s warnings.
If only helped no one.
Besides, she was grateful for her son even if having him meant enduring marriage to Rolf.
One thing was certain, she refused to mourn her dead husband.
***
Kincaid Springs, Texas
Betsie stepped off the train and scanned her surroundings. One hand held her battered suitcase and the other held Liam’s hand. With luck, she’d send someone to collect her trunk later. At least Liam and she were safe from Downum here.
“Try to keep up with Ma.”
Her little boy, love of her life, looked up at her. “Ma, can we eat?”
Guilt sank its ravenous jaws into her. Some mother she was when she couldn’t even feed her hungry son. She’d given him most of the meager food she’d purchased on the train. Obviously, that hadn’t been enough.
“We will as soon as we find your grandmother.”
Where would that be? She didn’t know how to find the house but she believed she’d recognize it from her mother’s description. With luck, she could get there before she passed out.
Mam wouldn’t turn her away, would she? Her letters had been cheerful and full of love and encouragement. Only, what if her new husband didn’t want Betsie and Liam underfoot?
She wished now she’d left her heavy suitcase with the trunk, but it had hers and Liam’s change of clothes. His clothes and hers were grimy from the train ride.
She stopped at the ticket office. “Can you tell me the way to the Kincaid home?”
A man whose plaque said Micah Jessup offered a smile. “If you mean the Judge, head straight down the street. You’ll see the house in about eight blocks.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jessup.” She led Liam the way the stationmaster had indicated. How silly of her not to specify which Kincaid after Mam had told her how many others there were. Dizziness attacked her, she stumbled and almost fell. How would she walk for eight blocks?
Come on, you can make it. Think of seeing Mam again. Think of her feeding Liam all he can eat. Come to think of it, Betsie wouldn’t mind a bite or two for her rumbling stomach.
***
Monk Magonagle stepped out of the bank and almost into a woman carrying a suitcase and holding the hand of a small boy. He swept off his hat. “I do beg your pardon, ma’am.”
The woman swayed and the suitcase dropped. Monk caught her and carried her to the bench nearby. Even in a faint, the young woman reached toward the little boy’s hand.
The child followed closely. “Ma? Ma?”
Monk couldn’t help staring at the beautiful woman. Dark circles under her eyelids told him she’d had trouble. Her worn clothes and battered suitcase affirmed that opinion. The little boy was also blond and thin but appeared fit.
The child’s face scrunched and tears rolled down his cheeks as he patted her. “Ma, Ma? Wake up, Ma. Don’t be gone gone.”
Monk smiled at the little boy. “Hey, don’t worry, young man. Your ma will be fine in a moment.”
He searched for someone to help him. Before he could summon anyone, she roused and fought to sit up.
“Ma’am, are you all right. Should I send for a doctor?”
She shoved back golden curls that had fallen across her face. “I’ll be fine as soon as we get to my mother’s home.”
The child patted her again. “Ma, when can we eat?” He scrunched his face again. “Wanna eat now.”
Looking embarrassed, she pulled the child to her. “We will, Liam. Remember I said when we get to your grandmother’s we’ll eat all the food you want.”
Monk wondered how long since the two had eaten. “Ma’am, I was just about to cross the street to have lunch at Granny’s Kitchen. They serve good food. I’d be pleased if you and your son would be my guests. Then we’ll see about getting you to your mother’s home.”
Indecision crossed her face and her stomach rumbled. “I-I wouldn’t want to be too much trouble for you.”
He helped her to her feet. “We’ll see that boy has lunch in no time.”
“I’m terribly embarrassed to have passed out. I’ve never fainted before and to do so in public is humiliating. Thank you for helping me. I apologize for your trouble.”
He retrieved the hat he’d dropped, clamped it on his head, and grabbed her suitcase. “No trouble at all. I’ll carry your luggage and you take my arm.”
“If… if you’re sure we wouldn’t inconvenience you too muc
h.”
“Eating alone gets old. My name is Michael Magonagle but most folks call me Monk.” Actually, he never ate alone. Always someone he knew would invite him to their table or ask to join him.
She clung to his arm for support and her free hand clutched that of her son. “I’m Betsie Hirsch and this is Liam.”
When they were inside the restaurant, he left the suitcase by the door. “Let’s sit by the window so Liam can watch passersby.” He guided her to a vacant table.
Monk helped her son kneel on the chair so he could see over the table edge as well as out the window. Betsie sank onto a chair as if her legs gave way. Monk imagined that’s what happened.
Rhoda Kline, the owner, stopped at their table with her usual cheerful smile on her face. “Hello, Monk. I see you have guests today. Welcome. Do you need a menu? Special of the day is roast beef.”
Monk looked at Betsie.
She spoke quietly. “Beef sounds wonderful.”
“We’ll have the special. Milk for the young man and I’ll have coffee. Mrs. Hirsch, what would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have milk as well.”
Rhoda bustled away to get their food.
He leaned forward. “Where does your mother live? Perhaps I know her.”
“The man at the station said it’s about eight blocks from there. I’m sure I’ll recognize the house because of the description she wrote. You probably know it, a large green house with white trim and lots of flowers.”
“Do you mean Judge Kincaid’s home?”
She brightened. “Yes, do you know him?”
His reply was interrupted by Rhoda’s daughter, Bayla.
“How are you today?” Bayla set their drinks on the table and hurried toward the kitchen.
Betsie helped her son drink his milk. He downed most of the glass before she stopped him. “Save room for your food.”
Now that he could answer, Monk leaned back. “Most people in town know Judge Kincaid and many call him Grandpa. What’s your mother’s name?”
She took a deep breath. “Fiona Galloway Kincaid.”
That made Monk sit up but he flashed his warmest smile. “Of course I know her. Does she know you’re arriving?”
A worried expression settled on her Betsie’s face and her blue eyes widened. “No, she doesn’t. Do you think Judge Kincaid will let us stay with her?”
He chuckled, knowing how Grandpa loved having children in the house. “I’m sure of it. Not only will he let you stay, he’ll be happy to see you and Liam.”
Betsie appeared as if the weight of the world had been lifted. “I’ve been so worried. I’m a widow with no place else to turn.”
Liam patted his hand on the table. “Da’s gone gone. Ma, when can we eat?”
Rhoda set steaming plates in front of them. “Here you are, young man. Eat your fill.”
Liam reached for the food but his mother scooped up a bite of meat to feed him. “He can feed himself but he’s much too messy for public.”
“How old is he?” Monk dug into his own meal.
“In a month he’ll be four. Usually, he’s a bundle of energy but well behaved. Recent events have affected him so he acts younger than he did months ago.”
“I can understand how that would be. How long since your husband passed away?”
A flush spread across her face. “Eight days. We . . . we had to vacate our home and leave most of our possessions. Liam doesn’t quite understand what happened. He seems withdrawn and isn’t his usual self. Though, he seemed to enjoy the train.”
Monk bit back the questions that popped into his mind. None of his business. “You’ll enjoy Kincaid Springs. I’ve traveled a lot but this is the friendliest town I’ve found.”
“That’s what Mam said but it’s nice to have someone else confirm her opinion. What is it you do here?”
He was pleased to have a legitimate occupation to truthfully answer. “I’m President of the Kincaid Springs Bank. Judge Kincaid and some of his kin and I own the bank, though my share is small. We bought it because the former banker was unfair to customers and employees. The Judge is a strict but fair man. You won’t find better and all his kin are fine people.”
Monk finished his food and noticed his guest had hardly touched hers. “Why don’t I feed Liam so you can eat?”
Surprise shot across her features. “Really? I’m afraid he might get food on your jacket.”
He took the fork from her. “Nonsense, helping this lad eat will be a pleasure.”
The way Liam wolfed down his food amazed Monk. He’d never seen a small boy eat so much, not that he had ever fed one before. The child would be lucky not to have a stomach ache.
A hand clapped Monk on the shoulder. When he looked up, he saw Gabe Kincaid.
Gabe grinned. “Find yourself a family?”
Monk gave Liam another bite. “Betsie Hirsch and Liam, this is Gabe Kincaid, attorney with Kincaid, Bartholomew, and Kincaid. Gabe, Mrs. Hirsch is Fiona’s daughter.”
Betsie blushed. “Mr. Magonagle rescued me when I fainted at his feet. I’m fine now that I’ve had a good meal and rested.”
Gabe’s expression showed his concern. “Sorry for your trouble. Sarah’s visiting Nate. Let me run tell her to stop here with the buggy before she goes to see Grandpa.”
“That would be great. I’m sure Mrs. Hirsch is too tired to walk that far after her journey.”
Gabe nodded and left.
Betsie sagged in her chair. “Now I’ve interrupted his meal as well as yours.”
“Don’t you worry, there’ll still be food when he returns. He’s his own boss and can take as long a lunch as he chooses. Some days that’s two hours, some days he has to skip the meal entirely.”
“I remember Mam talking about Sarah. She had a baby over a year ago, didn’t she?”
“That’s correct. You’ll like Sarah. I hope she has little Nat with her. His real name is Nathaniel Bartholomew, Jr. Then they have the three they adopted.” Monk scraped the plate and fed Liam the last bite. He had no idea a small boy could eat so much.
Betsie used the napkin to clean the boy’s face and hands. The child’s eyes drooped as if he was ready to sleep.
“Ma, I want Rover.”
“He’s in the suitcase but we’ll find him when we get to Grandma’s.” She met Monk’s gaze. “Rover’s his toy dog.”
Monk gestured toward the street. “Here’s Sarah, shall we go?”
“I don’t want to keep her waiting.” She lifted her son. “Come on, Liam, let’s go see Grandma.”
Monk nodded at Rhoda and left payment on the table. He picked up the suitcase then opened the door for Betsie. Monk made introductions.
Sarah looked at the back seat where her toddler slept in a wooden crate strapped to the seat. “Nate insisted on creating a safe place for Nat. With all our children, the buggy is crowded.”
Betsie leaned down to look at Liam. “Stand right there until I’m in the buggy.”
After helping Betsie onto the front seat beside Sarah, Monk lifted Liam to hand to his mother. The child made a weird noise and threw up his lunch, most of which landed on Monk’s clothes and shoes. Enough landed on Liam’s front that he was a mess too.
“No, please no. Oh, Mr. Magonagle, your clothes.” Betsie hid her face in her hands. When she lowered her hands, tears were in her blue eyes.
“Forgive me for leaving you in such a mess and holding my son.” She stretched out her arms for her son. “Liam, come here.” She took the boy. “I should never have let you eat so much after. . . .” She trailed off as she settled her son on her lap.
Monk figured she almost said after not having enough to eat for so long. He used his handkerchief to dab at his clothes. There was no hope. “Guess I’d better rush home and change clothes.”
Sarah shook her head. “I should think so. Climb in and I’ll drop you there on our way. You don’t want to walk through town looking as you do.”
His house wasn’t really on
the way, but he climbed onto the back seat anyway. His position at the bank required him to act with impeccable dignity. He wasn’t eager to walk through town looking a foul mess and smelling like a chamber pot.
Betsie continued to fret, “I’m so sorry. After you’ve been so kind, this is a horrid way to repay you.” She opened her purse and took out a handkerchief. After she dabbed at her eyes, she used it to brush at Liam’s clothes.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hirsch. This is far from the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” Which was true, although this particular experience was a first. But, then, how many children had he ever fed?
After turning off the main street, Sarah pulled up in front of his home. The eight-room, gray house with white trim sat back on a fair-sized lot with numerous large trees. A white picket fence wrapped around the front with a swinging gate at the road. If he ever had need of one, there was a carriage house at the back.
The place was too large for him, but Grandpa had assured him he had to appear successful to reassure customers and investors. Sarah had decorated the house for him. He’d only added a few things. A cleaning woman, Mrs. Lopez, lived in a room off the kitchen.
Betsie cradled Liam, who’d dropped off asleep. “What a lovely home. I love the wide porch where the fern and the wicker chairs look inviting.”
Monk smiled, grateful for her words. He loved his home. “Fiona gave me the fern. She loves flowers and sure has a knack for making them grow.”
He climbed down and opened his gate. “Thanks, Sara. Goodbye, Mrs. Hirsch and Liam. I’m sure I’ll be seeing each of you soon.”
He watched the buggy head toward the Kincaid home. Still wearing a worried expression, Mrs. Hirsch turned and waved. He sped up the walk to go inside.
He enjoyed his job at the bank and gave thanks for the opportunity. The other employees appeared to respect and even like him. True, they were under the misconception that he’d previously worked with Pinkertons, something he neither confirmed nor denied. Even though the Kincaid clan knew the truth, the entire family treated him as an equal and as a member of their family. Shouldn’t that be enough?
All the same, Monk wished he had someone special waiting at home when he arrived each day. He longed for at least one person who was glad to see him specifically. He would even like to have a family someday.
Monk's Bride Page 1
