Fitzpatrick: Cowboy Reluctant: Christian Historical Western (The Kavanagh Brothers Book 7)

by Kathleen Ball

  A scream echoed through the house

  Coffee sloshed as Fitzpatrick dropped the cup and jumped up. Dolly was a few feet ahead of him as they raced up the stairs. Sullivan stood in the doorway to the woman’s room looking mighty confused. Scowling, he stared at Dolly, mouth gaping.

  “Sullivan, you’re at the wrong room,” Dolly told him. “Let me show you. You should have taken a nap like I told you.”

  Fitzpatrick tried not to smile at his brother. Heavy gasps came from inside his room, and he realized someone needed to calm the woman down. He walked through the door, and she sighed.

  “You, I recognize,” she said, her voice still quavering. “You both have dark hair and blue eyes, but he scared me.” She clutched her hands in front of her. “Did I wake the baby?”

  Her concern softened Fitzpatrick’s defenses some. “It’s fine.” It was a relief she had a nightgown on, though. One that buttoned up to her chin. “Listen, ma’am… I… I went back to where I found you and I came upon this piece of paper.” He took it out of his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s ahh… well it’s two years old.”

  Her hands trembled as she unfolded it. He watched her intently but there wasn’t a single sign that she’d read it before. She genuinely seemed confused.

  “Do you think I’m Brenna? I wonder who Aggie is? Fitzpatrick… two years… That’s not so long ago. Do you know anyone named Aggie around here?” She sure was beautiful, especially now she was cleaned up. And her eyes were all filled with hope. He hated to be the one who took that away.

  “I asked, and no one knows anyone named Aggie. The thing is, we don’t know where you were coming from or going to.” He tried to temper his words with a smile. “Brenna is a pretty name. It suits you.”

  Her smile faded. “Maybe — Do you know an Agatha or an Agnes? Aggie could be short for those names. Or what if it’s from a man? Augustus could be shortened to Aggie.”

  He hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than Brenna. Movement he caught in the corner of his eye startled him and he whirled, gun drawn. But it was just a man wearing a sheriff’s star. Easing out a tense breath, Fitzpatrick quickly holstered his weapon.

  “I didn’t hear you, Sheriff.”

  The other man nodded toward the doorway. “I knocked on the door and let myself in. I’m the new sheriff around these parts. Sheriff Knowls.” He turned toward Brenna. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Not in her bedroom, Sheriff. I’m Dolly,” announced the housekeeper, from the hallway. “I work here. Come, let’s have some coffee while Fitzpatrick finds a robe for our guest.” She gestured for the sheriff to lead the way. “Gemma has a fine robe,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  And then they were alone again. Fitzpatrick nodded. “Are you up for this? I can send him on his way.”

  “I’m fine. Could you find the robe Dolly mentioned?” She looked lost.

  “Sure thing.” He stepped into the hall and followed the sound of voices. Outside Clarissa’s room, he heard Gemma and knocked on the door. When Gemma came out, he shuffled his feet. “Begging your pardon… Dolly told me you have a robe our guest might borrow so she can talk to the sheriff?”

  “Of course.” With that, she went down the hall to her own room, returning in short order with a pretty green robe.

  “Thank you,” he said as he accepted the garment. A bit of discomfort at touching a lady’s night things stole over him as he turned to walk away.

  “Fitzpatrick,” called Gemma softly, and he paused without turning. “If the sheriff seems to make her upset just stop him.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Without another word, he continued back to his room.

  Trying to keep his gaze averted, he helped Brenna into the robe. When she was ready, he carried her down the stairs despite her protests she could walk. He deposited her on the sofa and fixed her robe for her before he sat next to her.

  He didn’t like the speculative stare from the sheriff.

  “Sheriff Knowles, I’m Fitzpatrick Kavanagh. This beautiful woman is our housekeeper Dolly, and we think it’s possible that Brenna is this young woman’s name.”

  “Nice to meet you folks.” He gave a nod to each of them. Then he turned to Brenna. “I heard about a woman found in the road. Is that woman you, Brenna?”

  “Yes, I suppose so, and before you ask more questions, I remember nothing.” She clasped her hands on her lap.

  “But you know how to talk and walk? Have you forgotten how to do things? Can you read?” The sheriff was sounding aggressive.

  “She doesn’t know how she got on the road. She doesn’t know her name or where she’s from.” Fitzpatrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I found a letter that could be hers, and it was addressed to someone named Brenna.”

  “Something mighty suspicious about this whole thing,” Sheriff Knowls said, shaking his head. “I’m going to talk to the doc.” He lifted a hand and scratched his jaw. “Funny she can read but not remember things.”

  Fitzpatrick tensed, but Brenna reached over and touched him on the arm, calming him.

  “Let us know if you find anything,” Fitzpatrick said as he stood, signaling to the sheriff it was time to leave…

  Dolly met him at the front door and held it open. “Have a good rest of the day.”

  Brenna scooted over and wrapped her arms around Fitzpatrick’s neck. She tucked her head under his chin and held on. Her entire world had been turned around and upside down, and the sheriff acted as though she was a liar. Well, perhaps she was, she didn’t know. Was it a lie if you didn’t remember something? In this house filled with strangers, Fitzpatrick was the only one who could bring her some measure of safeness.

  Mortification swept over her. What was she thinking? She let him go and her face felt as though it was on fire. “I’m sorry. I’m so inappropriate. It’s just I’m so alone and you’ve been very kind to me.” She put as much distance between them as the sofa would allow. “I hope I’m a kind person.” She drew a shaky breath. “How is Clarissa?”

  “I heard her tell Gemma the pains are coming less frequently.” Twin spots of faint rose stained his cheeks.

  “I’ll keep her in my prayers.” Oh! She believed in God. Surely that was a good thing, right? It was a start. “If you help me upstairs, I won’t bother you the rest of the day.”

  “You’re not a bother.” He stood and scooped her up as though she weighed nothing. She didn’t want to wrap her arms around him again, but it was safer if she did.

  She glanced at his face and didn’t see any type of annoyance. Had she irritated people in the past? This guessing game had her head spinning.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him after he set her down. “I’m going to take a nap. And thank you for being kind to me.” She quickly turned so her back was to him. Hopefully, he didn’t think she had feelings for him.

  After he left, she stood and took off the robe. She carefully laid it at the end of the bed and then slipped back in. Yes, a nap was what she needed.

  Chapter Three

  Something about holding the new baby, Lorna, seemed more than right to Brenna. Perhaps she was a nanny or had come from an enormous family? The guessing game wasn’t fun, and she still had recalled nothing useful. It had been a week and she was no closer to learning who she was.

  She beamed down at Lorna. She looked like Sheila. The baby sighed in her sleep. Brenna sighed too. Someday she’d have a family. If she could remember her life. This baby girl was very blessed because she had so many people who already loved her. There were ten Kavanagh brothers, plus their mother figure, the housekeeper Dolly. Six of them had wives, and there was a slew of children. She chuckled. They’d best get busy setting up their own school. Two of the brothers didn’t reside at the ranch, she had learned from Dolly. One lived next door and the other in Arkansas.

  Were her reactions to different things new, or were they expressions of how she had felt before? She yearned for a loving family such as the Kavanaghs. But was
that because she came from one? Or because she had never had that? They all liked one another. She hadn’t witnessed any hard feelings. The women had all pitched in and brought her a few dresses and some undergarments to wear, nice things, all serviceable. She’d stared at the ruined dress she turned up in, and could tell it had been a costly dress, of fine quality. Did women in the West wear such clothes? She expected they weren’t sensible.

  There were a few things she found out. It was actually what she didn’t know that revealed more about herself. She could help with the cooking, but she couldn’t light the stove. Hanging clean clothes, she excelled at, but she hadn’t a clue how to wash them. She had contemplated making herself some new clothes, but she didn’t perceive where to start. She did have nice manners, and she knew how to set a table. She also knew how to muck out stalls, fix a bridle, and saddle a horse. She was relatively positive she knew how to shoe them. It was an unusually strange mix of talents she had.

  Everyone was kind, but it was Fitzpatrick she invariably sought. He made her feel protected, and she was drawn to him. He was courteous, but he wasn’t enamored with her at all. She’d probably been making a fool out of herself with her need to be near him.

  “She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Sheila asked before she picked up the baby.

  “You are very blessed.”

  “I’d have to concur.” Gemma sat on a chair across from Brenna. “Have you spoken with Sheila? She knows a lot about healing.”

  “Yes, we chatted at some length. Either my recollections will come back, or they won’t. There’s nothing to be done. I can’t live here permanently, but it terrifies me to even think about making my way alone.”

  “I’m not certain what to do for the brain,” Sheila replied, her expression apologetic.

  “I wouldn’t fret. We won’t make you leave,” Gemma said, extending a tranquil smile.

  Gemma was beautiful. Brenna looked down at the floor. “I’ve made a fool of myself constantly seeking to sit next to Fitzpatrick. He seldom speaks to me anymore. Does he have someone he plans to wed?”

  Brenna glanced at Gemma. It looked as though she was trying to figure out what to say.

  “You don’t have to explain. It’s not my business. I’ll try to let him be.”

  Sheila kissed Lorna’s forehead. “Not too long ago, Fitzpatrick told the world he’d never marry. He’d rather spend his evenings at the local saloon. Then he traveled to Arkansas to help his brother Murphy and when he arrived back, he was more mature. He’s been going over to Theresa Ballet’s family home for Sunday supper for the last few weeks.”

  “Oh, I wish I’d noticed his heart was already captured. Is she pretty?”

  “Very.” Gemma nodded. “She’s tall with light brown hair. She has a sister, Marie. She actually never talked to any of us. We might look like a big clan when we enter the church, but we try to make friends with all the neighbors and townspeople. She always took a step back.” One shoulder lifted and fell again in a casual shrug. “I really don’t know her.”

  “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

  Sheila laughed. “And tonight, is bath night for all. I have a nice dress you can wear. Having my babies has changed my body, and many things don’t fit. You’re welcome to use them.”

  “That’s sweet, thank you.”

  Fitzpatrick’s stomach dropped when he read the telegram the sheriff had received. There was no doubt it was about Brenna. Her father was offering a big reward to anyone who captured her or had her locked up. Apparently, she had run away from her home and her doting groom.

  “Who uses the word ‘doting’?” Fitzpatrick asked Sheriff Knowls.

  “It’s not a word I hear often,” Knowls agreed. “Not too sure about setting out a reward to have her locked up either. So, I sent out a telegram to a friend I know that lives down that way near New Orleans. He made some inquiries. Her father, Mr. White had kept her shut in her room for over a month. She refuses to marry the man her father picked, and the preacher won’t do it unless Brenna wants it. She hadn’t been treated kindly.”

  “What do we do?” Fitzpatrick scratched the back of his neck as he tried to think of options. “We can’t send her back, she’d been through a beating when I found her.”

  “This type of situation never stays quiet for long. Plenty of people will be after the reward money.” Knowles shrugged. “Either hide her or marry her. I don’t think you have a lot of time deciding this.”

  Fitzpatrick nodded and glanced out the window just as Theresa walked by. He swallowed hard. He’d tried to like her, truly he had. She was a pretty girl. But maybe not enough for him to give up his oath to remain single. He had made a commitment to have supper with her, though, and he’d keep it.

  But if he could not bring himself to exchange vows with someone he knew, how could he even think of marrying a stranger just to keep her safe?

  Fitzpatrick heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Sheriff. We’ll find some means to protect her.”

  He strode from the sheriff’s office with an unsettled feeling. What in tarnation was he going to do? He pondered the dilemma all the way home.

  Angus, Shea or Rafferty would have to marry the poor girl, he concluded. None of his three younger brothers would be his choice, though. That would be up to Brenna. It was just about quitting time when he rode in. Good. That would save him from having to call a meeting.

  He jumped down off Poke and led him into the barn. Most of his brothers were there taking care of their horses.

  “We have a complication,” he announced, getting straight to the point. “Brenna’s father has a reward for her return. The sheriff found out she was being forced to marry someone of her father’s choosing and she fled. The sheriff says she from New Orleans. She’d been locked in her room for a month.” He shuffled his feet in the dust. “I thought maybe Rafferty, Angus, or Shea would marry her. The sheriff figured her bruises were maybe from her father.”

  While Rafferty, Angus, and Shea’s jaws dropped, the rest of the brothers were trying hard not to laugh.

  Angus closed his mouth and stepped forward. “Fitzpatrick, she’s yours. You’re always the first to laugh if one of us gets into a tight spot.”

  A frustrated sigh slipped out. “I have a date tomorrow with Theresa. You all know I’ve been seeing her. She seems nice and docile.” He scuffed his toe through the dust again. “If I have to give up being single, I don’t want trouble like most of you married fellas had.”

  A knowing smile spread over Sullivan’s face. “There’s something to be said for making up.”

  Teagan looked amused. “Fitzpatrick, I think you put your foot in your mouth with this one. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”

  The right thing. If he meant marrying Brenna, he was crazy. “Like I said, I have a date with Theresa tomorrow, and I plan to keep it.”

  “If she’s from New Orleans maybe it wasn’t her father who beat her. From what I heard many of the bruises were fresh. We need to keep an eye on her. A reward for the capture of his daughter. Didn’t he realize he’d put her in danger?” Teagan asked, scowling.

  The next morning Brenna laid out a pretty blue dress Sheila had given her, then she washed and dressed. A spark of hope had taken root in her heart. Maybe someone at the church would know who she was. Not being capable to recall anything was frightening. Perhaps the Lord would give her a sign.

  She declined breakfast; her stomach was feeling poorly. It could be from nerves. Maybe she was the skittish type. That happened sometimes, didn’t it? People’s stomachs became upset if they were uneasy. She went outside and sat on the porch waiting for the others. It was a glorious day, full of blue skies and sunshine. The gentle breeze brought the scent of flowers and herbs. The Kavanaghs had been so good to her, but she needed to find her family. They were probably worried about her. It would be nice to have a ma and pa with a few siblings. Maybe she was an aunt.

  As the family strolled out of the house, she put on a blue bonnet Heaven had given her. A few w
agons were full, and they had already left. Goodness they needed so many wagons. Would the church hold them all?

  She stood by the wagon in front of the house and smiled when Fitzpatrick came her way. He veered off without even a glance. It stung as though he’d slapped her, and she bit back welling emotion. She must be oversensitive. Maybe he hadn’t really seen her. She went to the back of the wagon, ready to climb in but paused, staring at how high off the ground it was. Was there a way to get into it and still protect her modesty?

  Teagan started to walk past, paused, then stepped closer and lifted her up onto the back of the wagon. After giving him a smile of thanks, she made her way to the bench behind the front seat. Fitzpatrick rode out on his horse, and she followed him with her gaze. What was that bay’s name? Poker? Hook? Oh well. She’d ask some other time. It would be best to forget about Fitzpatrick anyway. He’d been her rock and it hadn’t appeared he minded. Now he was making it very clear… he minded.

  The church was beautiful. It was whitewashed and plenty big. Just seeing it lifted her spirits. After the wagon came to a stop, Quinn helped her down and she couldn’t stop admiring the garden. Someone with an eye for design had planted it. It was so tidy and like colors were bunched together.

  Without even looking for an escort, she climbed the few steps, halting in the doorway. The Church floor was made of enormous sheets of rock. Gigantic windows invited in brilliant light. As soon as she walked in, she felt God in her heart. He was always with her, she realized. They took up better than a few pews with so many of them. But no one seemed to mind. The other people all smiled and greeted them.

  She peered around and noticed a few unsavory men were staring at her. Her skin felt like it was crawling where their gazes seemed to brush. With a shudder, she turned the other way. There was Fitzpatrick, sitting with an extremely striking girl who had luxurious light brown hair that fell in waves about her shoulders and coffee brown eyes. That was enough looking around. She faced forward and planted a smile on her face. She didn’t know Fitzpatrick very well. Of course, he had his own life. This crushing sensation wasn’t heartbreak, but it was more like losing a friend.