Pioneer Longing: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Four

by Flightner, Ramona

  Mary smiled at Maggie, who worked to brew a pot of tea, while Mary settled in the living room area with her daughter and the woman she was coming to consider her daughter. “Now, love, you know your disappointments have come to an end. You’ve a fine husband, a beautiful daughter, and a gorgeous baby boy.”

  Niamh smiled, delight in her gaze. “Aye,” she whispered. “The past can be hard to forget, Mum.”

  Phoebe squirmed as she felt she were intruding on a private scene, meant for only those two women. However, Mary motioned for her to remain sitting, when Phoebe rose. “I hate intruding.”

  “You’re not,” Mary said. “We are a family who talks about our past. The good and the bad. The joys and the pains. You’ll accustom yourself to it.”

  Phoebe sat in a daze at Mary’s words. “I fear that is a foreign concept to me. That’s not how I was raised.”

  Mary gripped her hand a moment. “You’ll adapt.” She beamed at Niamh as she handled the precious bundle to her. “Oh, aren’t you a fine strong lad?” Mary murmured, as she rocked him in her arms. “Has Nora been by?”

  “Aye,” Niamh said with a yawn. “Twice. I’m doing well an’ not bleedin’ much, so she’s not concerned. She’s glad I’ve a reason to get up and out of bed every day. Says the worst thing a woman can do is lay about doin’ nothin’ during her forty days.”

  Maggie stood still, listening with rapt interest. “Why is that?”

  Niamh shrugged. “I have no idea, but I know I feel better if I do something more than lay in bed, so I find I must agree with her. Besides, wee Maura keeps me busy.”

  Phoebe stared at the women in awe. “Why would Nora visit?”

  Mary ran a soothing hand over the back of her slumbering grandson. “Oh, did we not tell you that Nora aided Niamh in the birth of the wee prince?” She kissed his head when he gave a stuttering sigh. “Nora has quite a bit of experience with that sort of thing.”

  “Working in a brothel?” Phoebe gasped.

  Niamh laughed, as Maggie shrugged. “You never know what you’ll learn or where you’ll learn it, Phoebe. And knowledge is knowledge, especially when you live in the back end of nowhere.”

  “You do know she is a good friend to our family?” Mary asked, with a severe stare at Phoebe. At Phoebe’s nod and apparent acceptance of that comment, Mary relaxed. “All that matters is that Niamh and the lad are well.”

  * * *

  Cormac slipped into the home he shared with Niamh, tiptoeing inside as he had kicked off his boots on the front porch. He knew how exhausted Niamh was as the pregnancy progressed, and he had no desire to wake her as she slept. A slight breeze wafted in through the open living room window, and he poked his head into Maura’s room, smiling as he saw her curled on her side with a doll tucked along her front.

  He pulled out his shirt from his pants, yanking down his suspenders, as he anticipated holding Niamh in his arms again. The long days on the trail would be forgotten the moment he could breathe in her scent and could kiss her. All would be right with his world the moment he could feel the baby move. He took a step into their room, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw her laying on her stomach. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “No.”

  Rushing to the side of the bed, he stroked hands down her back, before rubbing at her shoulders, his fingers tangling in her long auburn hair. “Niamh,” he breathed. “Forgive me.” His whispered words woke her, and she mumbled as she rolled to her side.

  “You should ask for my forgiveness,” she muttered, as she opened one eye to stare at him and smile. “Hello, love. A shíorghrá,” she murmured.

  “Niamh,” Cormac rasped, as he fell to his knees by the bed. “The baby. I’m so sorry.” Tears leaked onto his cheeks.

  Niamh sat straight up, almost bashing him in the head. She glanced away from him a moment and then relaxed. “What’s the matter, Cormac?” She rubbed her fingers through his beard, rubbing away his tears, and then played with strands of his long hair.

  He motioned to her. “You’re not pregnant. The baby. You lost the baby?” he whispered in a tormented voice. He paused as she smiled brilliantly and sat up on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck.

  “No, my love,” she whispered. “I had our baby, and he’s a fine, impatient lad. Asleep in his crib.” She motioned in the direction she had glanced a moment before. “He’ll awake soon, demanding to be fed and to be changed.”

  Cormac’s breath emerged in a whoosh as his worry eased. Wrapping his arms around Niamh, he pulled her close. “Forgive me, my love. My beautiful, brave, darling wife.” He peppered kisses over her face. “Forgive me for not being here. I should never have agreed to drive to Helena.”

  She kissed him, losing herself in their embrace. “Don’t be daft,” she breathed. “’Tis the busy time of year, and I know you must work.” Cupping his cheeks, she murmured, “I wanted you beside me, holding my hand. I wanted to hear your voice, encouraging me and reassuring me, as I thought I’d never survive the pain.”

  She sighed as he kissed her forehead. “But I understand, Cormac. You must earn for us now, so we have money to survive the winter. ’Tis the way of our life.” She smiled at him. “You’ll have plenty of time to change nappies and hold our boy in the off season.”

  His blue eyes shone with regret. “I want that time now. I hate missing a second with you and the children.”

  Niamh ran her hands through his hair, her hazel eyes filled with wonder and a deep fatigue. “Do you know, Cormac, what it means to me to have you return to me? To have you want to return to me?” She turned her face into his palm, as he thumbed away a tear. “To know your love, not your disdain?”

  “Always, my Niamh, always,” he vowed. His glance flitted to the cradle. “Tell me about my son.”

  Niamh laughed softly and fell forward into his embrace. “He’s a good sleeper, who wakes only to eat.” She smiled lovingly in the direction of the crib. “He has blue eyes and downy black hair.” She bit her lip. “I waited for you to name him.”

  Cormac rose to peer into the crib. “He’s beautiful, Niamh.” Reaching out a shaking hand, he traced his fingers over the baby’s smooth cheek, his breath catching as his babe’s mouth turned up into a smile at the soft caress.

  Niamh had crawled over to watch, a devoted, loving smile bursting forth. “He’s always cheerful. He only cries if his nappy is wet or if he’s hungry.”

  “What a good lad,” Cormac murmured, stroking a hand over his head one more time before turning to Niamh. “What a lucky lad to have such a mum.” He caressed her head and shoulders. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, love.”

  “You’re here now,” Niamh murmured, pulling at him. “Hold me. Tell me about your adventure. Too soon I’ll have to rise with the wee demon.”

  Cormac laid beside her, pulling her into his arms with an appreciative sigh. “Heaven. All is right in my world when you are in my arms.” He kissed her head, his gaze returning to the crib in the corner of the room. “What should we name him, darling?”

  She shrugged. “I always think of Irish names, but I want to know what you would like.”

  He caressed her shoulders. “Almost any name would be fine with me.”

  She kissed his jaw and whispered, “Da suggested a few names. Rian or Cillian.”

  “Why did he like them?” he asked, as he pressed kisses to her cheek and brows.

  “Rian means little king,” she said with a sigh. “I think he simply likes the name Cillian.”

  Cormac leaned away, smiling at her. “Either would be a perfect name for our boy.” He gazed into her shining eyes. “Which do you like better?”

  “I think Cillian. He will already be treated like a little king as the first grandson. He doesn’t need a name to match.” They laughed together.

  “Thank you, Niamh,” he breathed. “Thank you for this life. Driving my oxen home today, knowing I had you and Maura to return to …” His hands shook as they stroked through her long hair. “I never realized how different everythi
ng would feel to know I had a wife and child to come home to.” He kissed her. “And now, children.”

  She beamed at him. “I never realized how I would feel, knowing it was you returning to me.” She kissed his lips and cuddled against his chest. “I love our life, and I can’t wait to watch our children grow.”

  Cormac murmured his agreement, holding her close. as he waited for Cillian to wake to hold him in his arms for the first time.

  Chapter 17

  In early August, Phoebe wandered from the small cabin she shared with Eamon, wanting a few moments alone. Although she loved her new family, at times she yearned for a little quiet. Although she now had space that was solely for her and Eamon, someone in the family invariably dropped by for a visit, which left her little time for her silent introspection. She found she was in desperate need of it.

  Now, over a month after her marriage to Eamon, she felt like she was finally becoming part of his family. Although they had always been friendly, ever since she and Eamon had moved to their cabin, their welcome had become less guarded. She understood Seamus and Mary would be protective of their son, wanting him to find a happiness akin to theirs. However, Phoebe knew Eamon would never love her as Seamus loved Mary.

  Phoebe paused as she approached a small stream that entered the Missouri a short distance away. Here, it meandered and tumbled over rocks, with willows along the banks. Birds called to each other, before swooping out in an attempt to scoop up an unsuspecting insect. The sounds of the town faded away, as she let out a pent-up breath, fully relaxing.

  Love. Eamon used that word to refer to her, but he had never said he loved her. The omission was intentional. It had to be. For, if he loved her, why wouldn’t he say so when they shared passion? Why wouldn’t he whisper it in her ear before they fell asleep?

  “He doesn’t love you,” she whispered to herself. “He won’t lie and say what he doesn’t mean.” She bowed her head, as though the admission of such a truth was more than she could bear.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see who would interrupt her quiet interlude. Blanching, she breathed, “Uncle.”

  “’Bout time I got you alone,” he muttered. “Those O’Rourkes have kept you under lock and key.” He stared her up and down and frowned. “Damn, you’re no good to me now.”

  She stood tall, her hand gripping her cane. “I was no good to you before, Uncle. I never would have agreed to your plot.”

  He rocked back on his heels as his eyes gleamed with jovial malice. “You must understand, dear niece. What you desired had no part to play in your future. All that mattered was what I deemed necessary.” He glowered at her. “All that changed when those confounded O’Rourkes interfered.” He waved one pudgy hand in her direction. “Now they’ve ruined you and any potential profit I could have made.”

  “You do understand you are a vile, disgusting man.”

  He shrugged, the motion causing the middle button on his scarlet waistcoat to pop open. His black suit was slightly faded, as though it had been washed a little too vigorously. For her uncle, she suspected today’s outfit was tame for his standards. “What you think of me doesn’t really matter. I wish you’d taken any other boat. It’s my misfortune you took the one steamboat this year that carried the O’Rourke brats home.” He sighed. “How fortune can continue to spite me so …”

  “Whereas I will be forever grateful they were on my steamboat.” She held her head high to walk past him, although she had to lean on her cane, as her leg ached after the walk to the stream and standing in place for so long. She gasped when he grabbed her arm in a punishing grip.

  “You might have escaped me for now, but I will find a way to make you pay for thwarting me.”

  Phoebe wrenched her arm free, bashing her cane against his shin to force him to release her and to back up a step. “Never touch me again. Never speak to me again. You are not my uncle. You are not my family. I am a married woman, and I look to my husband for guidance. Never you.” She leaned heavily on her cane as she limped away.

  “A virile, healthy man like that O’Rourke boy will never be satisfied with a cripple. Mark my words, you’ll come begging to me for help. And I’ll show you no mercy!”

  Phoebe made her slow, painful way to her cabin, refusing to burst into tears until she had closed and latched the door behind her. She curled onto the bed, soaking her pillow with her tears. Ignoring the knock and Maggie’s voice calling to her, Phoebe laid in quiet misery, her uncle’s words replaying in her mind.

  * * *

  Eamon looked toward the back of the store to see Maggie hovering near the rear entrance. She never visited the store, as he knew she hated the attention the men gave her. Eamon also wondered if it was because she feared the return of her step uncle, Jacques Bergeron, although Jacques would know better than to ever set foot in their establishment. “Mags,” he murmured, glancing to ensure that Finn and Niall were fine without him. He’d come to realize his presence wasn’t necessary, as Niall had filled in so ably during his absence.

  “Eamon, I’m worried,” Maggie burst out. She gripped his arm, as he frowned at her. “I visited Phoebe twice today, and both times she didn’t answer the door. The second time, I’m certain I heard her inside crying.”

  “Crying?” Eamon whispered. “What could have happened?”

  Finn approached, clapping him on his shoulder. “Is everything all right?” His astute gaze took in Maggie’s worried appearance.

  “I have to check on Phoebe,” Eamon said. “I know I’m not here enough. I’m sorry.”

  Finn shook his head. “Niall and I are fine. I know you’ll work hard for me when it’s my turn to be a newlywed.” He winked at his brother. “Go. Ensure your wife is well.”

  Eamon smiled at his brother and best friend, before rushing from the rear entrance of the store. He paused long enough for Maggie to catch up with him. “I’ll escort you home first, Maggie.” When she shook her head, he stared at her in confusion.

  “No, if she’s hurt, I should be there. If it’s nothing I can help with, I’ll leave.” She squeezed his arm. “I promise.”

  Eamon tugged her along, walking at such a fast pace that Maggie nearly jogged beside him. He vaulted onto the sturdy porch and pushed against the door. With an “Oof,” he slammed into it, finding it locked. He slammed his hands on the door, calling out in a voice loud enough to carry inside, but hopefully not so loud to announce to the entire town that his wife had locked him out. “Phoebe?”

  He leaned forward, squinting, as though that would aid him in hearing better. At the sound of a sniffle, he pounded on the door again. “Bee, open the door, or I’ll break it down.”

  He heard a faint moan and then a thud. Backing up to ram the door, he caught himself just in time as the door eased open. “Bee,” he breathed, his voice catching at the sight of her tear-ravaged eyes and reddened nose. “Nothing could be that bad.”

  Before she was shut out, Maggie stepped forward. “Do you need me?” After Phoebe shook her head, Maggie backed away. “Comfort her, Eamon,” Maggie murmured, before slipping down the steps in the direction of home.

  Eamon absently nodded, his gaze wholly focused on his wife. “Bee, my love, what happened?” He urged her inside, shutting the door behind them and latching it again. He grasped her arm, stilling when he saw her wince at his soft touch. “Bee?” His breath ratcheted up. “Who dared hurt you?”

  “I’m sorry, Eamon,” she whispered. “I wanted a little time alone.” She looked around their cabin. “Your family—our family—is friendly and welcoming, but I rarely have time just for me.”

  “All you’d have to do is tell them,” he whispered.

  “I didn’t know how,” she said, as she ducked her head. “I’m not used to anyone heeding what I want or need.”

  He tipped her head up with gentle pressure under chin. “We might seem overbearing, but we O’Rourkes understand the need for a little time by ourselves, love. If you ask for it, they will try to give
it to you.”

  She nodded and stepped into his arms, sighing with relief as he enfolded her in a gentle embrace. “It will be hard for me to believe that, but I will try.” She tightened her arms around his waist. “I went on a walk.”

  “A walk?” He cupped her face, his gaze filled with distress.

  “I know it was foolish, Eamon,” she cried, tears coursing down her cheeks. “But I wanted to feel normal. Like any normal woman who didn’t have a cruel uncle eager to turn her life into a living hell. I wanted to feel the sun on my face, walk in the tall grass, listen to the birds sing.”

  He smiled at her, his hands caressing her head. “And did you?”

  She met his smile, her eyes glowing for a moment. “Yes. For a short time. It was wondrous.”

  “Tell me about it,” he urged. “Tell me about your wonderful outing, before it was spoiled.”

  She closed her eyes, a smile lifting her lips, as she spoke in a soft, eager voice. “The wind played with my skirts, and I remember laughing at the feel of it, cooling me off and playing with my hat and skirt at the same time. The walk to the small creek was longer than I thought it would be, or I’m weaker than I hoped I’d be after so long.”

  She sighed, as though what she envisioned delighted her. “The creek still had plenty of water, and it tumbled over the rocks, creating a soothing sound. The birds chirped and sang and swooped overhead, unfettered and free. The grass swayed in the breeze, and I forgot about the town and all the rowdy men. For a moment, I was filled with peace.”

  He made a soft murmur, kissing her forehead.

  “And then he came,” she said, stiffening in Eamon’s arms. She opened her eyes, regret and fear in her gaze. “My uncle. He took one look at me and said I was no longer of any use to him.” She frowned. “I was relieved but also offended. I don’t understand what he meant.”

  Eamon ran a finger over her cheek. “You have the look of a well-loved woman, my darling. He realized you were no longer the innocent you were when you arrived. He also must know I’d kill him if he harmed you again.” He frowned as he recalled her flinch at his touch on her arm. “Did he?”