Pioneer Desire: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Two Read online

  “What did you decide, Ardan?” Seamus asked. He sat at the head of the table, with a sleeping Maura in his arms.

  Ardan gripped his thighs and looked at all his siblings before finally meeting his father’s patient gaze. “I know we’re nearly out of capital. With the money we spent sending Jacques away and the need for Declan to go south soon to purchase supplies for next year.” He paused. “And then you bought the café.”

  “Aye,” Seamus said, “it’s been an expensive year. But we’ve had our fair share of profits.” He waited for Ardan to continue.

  Ardan lowered his head a moment, as though marshaling his thoughts, before raising his head to meet his father’s implacable gaze. “I want Deirdre. I love her. But I don’t know how to fight her fears.”

  “She must overcome them herself, Ardan,” Mary said. “You can help her, but those sorts of fears she must battle on her own.”

  “Aye, love,” Seamus said, as he gripped Mary’s hand. “But it always helps to know the one you love is there beside you. Supporting you the entire time.”

  Mary flushed and nodded her head.

  Ardan watched the exchange between his parents, battling envy and a desire for the same with Deirdre. “She fears we will see her as little more than a cook. That she will be seen as a role, not a person.” He closed his eyes. “She doesn’t understand she could never cook again, and I’d be a happy man. As long as she was mine to cherish.”

  Seamus let out a deep breath and sighed. “You want me to give her the café. For the O’Rourkes to have no claim on it.”

  His siblings gaped at him, as Ardan nodded. “Aye.”

  “Feck,” Eamon hissed, as he rose to pace the kitchen, muttering his apologies to his mother and sisters for swearing. “Are we to work for her for free too? Are Mum an’ Maggie an’ Niamh to become her indentured servants?”

  Ardan flushed with anger and rose to face his brother. “No, Eamon.” Soon he was nose to nose with his younger brother, Finn standing behind Eamon, with Kevin behind him. “That’s not how it would be.”

  Declan, who stood to one side, watching his brothers with mild interest, as though waiting to see which group to join, asked, “Then how is it, Ard?”

  “If she doesn’t have the pressure of our ownership of the café, if she believes she is free to choose and to do what she wants, I believe she will come to understand that we value her for who she is.” He stared at his siblings. “We lost Mum and Maggie. Aye. But we were never alone. We had Da. We had each other.” He saw the flash of understanding in their gazes. “Deirdre lost everything on her journey from Ireland. She doesn’t understand family, like we know it. Love, like we know it.”

  Mary rose, pulling him into her arms, effectively ending any chance for a fight, as no son of hers would ever risk harming her. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, my sweet, sweet boy,” she whispered. She cupped his face in her hands and nodded. “Of course Deirdre will have the café. For soon it will be yours with her. For she loves you, and she will find her courage. Have faith in her, as your da had faith in me.”

  “Mum,” Ardan breathed, pulling her close.

  Kevin slapped him on the back and sat, tugging Aileen to his side.

  Although there were a few grumbles, no further discussion occurred, as they all knew the decision had been made once their mum had spoken.

  Chapter 10

  The next day, Deirdre stood at the stove, pulling out a loaf of bread, when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, stilling at the sight of her brother-in-law, Silas. “You are not welcome here.”

  He chuckled, limping his way into the kitchen. After he sat on one of the stools around the large butcher block table, he ran a hand through his freshly washed blond hair. Hair that reminded her of Alonzo’s honey-gold hair that felt like silk when she ran her hands through it. However, the calculating gleam in Silas’s cold brown eyes proved he was her brother-in-law, rather than her beloved husband. Alonzo’s pale-blue eyes had always reminded her of the sky at dawn. “And you have no right to throw me out. You don’t own this place.”

  “You’re incorrect, as you always seem to be,” Ardan said, as he stepped into the kitchen from the back door. “And if Deirdre doesn’t want you here, you aren’t to be here.”

  Deirdre gazed at Ardan in confusion, at his sudden presence and at his words, then focused again on Silas. “I know you lie, Silas. You haven’t changed since we were children.”

  Silas scowled at her, the expression only making him appear less attractive. “I was always the responsible one. While you and Alonzo raced about, as though you were free to do whatever you pleased.”

  She gaped at him for a long moment before letting out a huff of incredulous laughter. “Have you forgotten that I worked as a servant in your house? I was never free to run around and do what I pleased.” She took a deep breath. “You never liked that Alonzo and I were close. And rather than rejoicing in our friendship, you tried to sabotage it.”

  His brown eyes glinted with disgust. “You were never good enough for him. He should have married a woman with prospects. Someone who would have brought fortune or connections to the family. Not a penniless orphan who has to peddle her second-rate pies to customers.” He cast a mocking glance at Ardan. “No wonder you find him attractive. You both have to sell your wares for a living.”

  “Your insolence will only garner you trouble,” Ardan murmured.

  “You’ve played at opening another café long enough, Deirdre. You’re coming back with me. Alonzo’s waited too long as it is to hold you in his arms again.” Silas frowned as his words appeared to have little effect on her.

  “First you came here, claiming I’d stolen money from your family and that you wanted it back. Then, when you realized that tactic wasn’t working, you claimed Alonzo was alive.” She shook her head, as she picked up a cast iron skillet, which she planned to use for a skillet corn bread. “You’ll say whatever you have to, so as to induce me to leave with you again.”

  “You’re being swayed by this man’s charm,” Silas said as he stood, hobbling until he found balance on his good leg.

  Deirdre glared at Silas as she set the skillet on the countertop. “This has nothing to do with Ardan.” She paused as Silas flushed red with indignation. “And I know you lie about Alonzo.” Taking a deep breath and standing tall, she faced Silas with her head held high. “Unlike you, Alonzo would never have let two years pass without informing me that he was alive. Even if he were injured, he’d know I’d want him back. No matter what.” She blinked away tears. “If he were alive, you’d have a letter for me.”

  She smiled with smug satisfaction at the panic in Silas’s eyes. “You always were the worst tactician, Silas. Blustering your way through your lies, hoping if you were a big-enough bully, we’d go along with whatever you said. Slamming and pounding on doors to provoke fear and to coerce me into doing what you wanted.” She shook her head. “Not this time. Not when it’s this important.”

  “You are to return with me. I am your family,” he snapped. He raised and lowered his arm, pointing to the spot next to him, as though she were a recalcitrant hound to heel at his side. When she failed to follow his command, he took a menacing hobble in her direction.

  “No, you were never my family. You doubted the existence of my daughter. Your niece,” she said in a tear-laced voice. “Ardan and the O’Rourkes, they never doubted. They exulted in her, even though they never met her, and accepted my grief.” Tears leaked down her cheeks. “Other than Alonzo, they are the only ones to ever see me as more than a servant.”

  When he reached for her, she shrieked and raised the skillet, clobbering him on the head with it. She watched, wide-eyed, as he groaned and then collapsed at her feet. “Oh, dear God. What did I just do?” she whispered, as she stared at Silas, crumpled on the floor. “Did I kill him?”

  Ardan chuckled. “No, you gave him a lesson he won’t forget.” He paused as he was about to kiss her forehead, backing away a step instead and c
learing his throat, as though embarrassed by his action. He focused again on Silas. “And a headache he’ll regret.” He poked his head out the back door and bellowed a list of his brothers’ names.

  “Why did you call for so many of them?” she asked.

  “I don’t know who’ll hear. Those who do will come,” he said, as he stared at Silas on the floor, refusing to look at her. “Are you well, Deirdre?”

  She nodded, canting toward him, resenting he was not reaching for her or holding her in his arms. Just as she mustered the courage to push herself into his embrace, clattering footsteps sounded on the back steps, and Niall, Oran, and Bryan O’Rourke burst into the kitchen.

  “Oh, a body,” Bryan said with glee in his gaze. “Do we get to dig a grave?”

  “No, you wee imp,” Ardan said, as he ruffled his youngest brother’s hair. “He’s alive, but he’s badgerin’ Mrs. Finnegan. Help me carry him out of here, aye?”

  Niall and Oran puffed out their chests, elated that their eldest brother, who was their hero, had asked them for help. They shared carrying one side of Silas while Ardan hefted the other side. Bryan opened the door and raced ahead, calling out for all to hear about the incident in the café’s kitchen.

  Deirdre watched them leave, dragging Silas’s good foot in the dirt. Soon Declan and Kevin had emerged from the warehouse, and they lifted Silas’s legs, carrying him with ease. She waited until they were out of sight, wishing Ardan had turned to smile or to wink at her. However, he never looked back.

  Three days later, a cool breeze blew, and Deirdre sat on the rear porch steps, enjoying the quiet evening air after finishing her chores in the café. Mary’s sons, from her marriage to the Canadian Frenchman Francois, had come by in the afternoon to help with dishes. Lucien and Henri had jabbered in a foreign language she presumed was French, while casting curious glances in her direction. Probably because I had knocked Silas unconscious with a fry pan, she thought to herself. She had been informed he lived, which she was mostly grateful for. She had smiled at Lucien and Henri as they worked but had resented feeling out of place in her own kitchen. When they were done with their tasks, they had nodded in her direction and departed.

  Niamh had remained at home, caring for a fussy Maura, and Deirdre had worked the café alone for the first time in weeks. For the past few days, neither Mary nor Maggie had come to work at the café. Deirdre had forgotten how lonesome she could be without the companionship of the O’Rourkes. Without them continually wandering in and out of the kitchen, snatching at a cookie or a roll, and winking at her as she laughed at their outlandish tales.

  Was this how her life would be in the future? Devoid of any true friendship now that she had spurned Ardan? She shivered as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Did she truly want to spurn him?

  At the sound of footsteps, she fought hope and glanced up. Her weak smile and defeated posture heralded her disappointment as Seamus approached. “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Finnegan,” he said with a deferential nod. “I suppose I should call you Mrs. Fiske, but I’m too used to calling you Mrs. Finnegan. Besides, ’tis a proper Irish name.” He winked at her, frowning when he saw his teasing provoked tears rather than a smile. “Are you all right, lass?”

  “I’m fine,” she gasped out. “Merely a little tired.”

  He rocked back on his feet. “I’m sure you are confused as to why my Mary and Maggie didn’t come to work lately.” He paused. “I also know you had trouble with Silas before Ardan could inform you of the reason he had come to call.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “We decided, as a family at that night’s supper some evenings ago, that you are to own the café. Not the O’Rourkes. You do all the hard work. Thus it should be yours. And you should hire as you deem fit.”

  She stood from the stoop, nearly tumbling down the steps in her haste to rise. “What? You can’t just gift me something of such value. It’s … It’s …” She shook her head as she attempted to catch her breath.

  “’Tis yours, Deirdre, as it always should have been.” He caressed her arm. “If you’d like Maggie an’ Mary to continue to work for you, please send word. I think they’ve missed havin’ a purpose these past few days.” He winked at her, as she continued to gape at him. “Good night, lass.”

  She stared in dumbfounded confusion, as he strolled away from her. How had they managed to turn her world upside down again?

  The following morning, Niamh arrived to work at the café with faltering, halting steps. Deirdre watched her with concern but was hesitant to pry into her personal life. She ducked her head. She knew she had no right to inquire into another’s life when she was reluctant to examine her own. However, when Niamh whimpered as she attempted to lift a pot to carry to the sink, Deirdre stilled her baking.

  “Niamh?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye,” she said. “I fear I’m comin’ down with what ailed wee Maura.”

  Deirdre approached her, holding the back of her hand out, as though to touch it to Niamh’s forehead to check for fever. Niamh flinched away, backing into the countertops and then yelped in pain when her hips hit the hard wood. “Niamh,” Deirdre whispered, her eyes widened in shock. “Who are you afraid of?”

  Shivering, Niamh stood staring into space, a wild, terrified look in her eyes. “I’m afraid of no one.”

  Deirdre made a soothing sound as she approached Niamh, softly stroking a hand over Niamh’s arm. “Of course not. You’re a strong woman.” She broke off what else she would have said when Niamh gripped her arm in a fierce clasp.

  “Promise me you won’t say a word to anyone in my family.” Her hazel eyes bore into Deirdre’s, her jaw firming at the evident hesitation in Deirdre’s gaze. “Promise me.”

  Deirdre nodded. “I promise. But the man who hurt you should suffer consequences for what he did.”

  Niamh’s eyes filled, and she shook her head. “Connor—Cormac,” she broke off what more she would have said when the back door opened. She spun to the sink to wash dishes.

  Her mind spinning with uncertainty, Deirdre turned to smile impersonally at Declan. “Hello. How might I help you?”

  “I’m leavin’ soon for Cow Island and then on to Saint Louis. I wanted to ensure I had the list of supplies you’ll need for next year. Have you thought of anything else you’ll need?”

  Deirdre held a hand to her forehead and stared at the butcher block top for a long moment. “I’m uncertain.”

  “’Tis all right. You have a few days.” He looked at Niamh, who had yet to turn around to acknowledge him, and then to her. “Good day, missus.”

  Deirdre sat on her stool, her work forgotten, while Niamh sniffled at the sink, and Deirdre’s head spun with all that had been revealed that morning.

  Ardan poked his head into his father’s office, letting out a sigh of relief to find his father seated behind his desk. However, rather than working on last-minute details for his sons’ impending trip to Saint Louis, Seamus sat staring in space, with a mutinous expression. “Da?”

  “Ardan,” Seamus murmured, failing in his attempt to smile in a soothing manner.

  “What troubles you?” He sat, although he did not relax. A tension coiled through him, as though preparing him for battle at any moment.

  “I’ve deluded myself into believin’ I took good care of my children.” At Ardan’s instinctual attempt to contradict him, Seamus waved away his protestations. “I failed Niamh, Ardan.”

  “Da,” Ardan whispered. “None of us could stop her once she met Connor. ’Twas like he cast a magic spell over her, and she couldn’t do anything but his bidding.”

  Seamus rose and paced to the window behind his desk. He slammed his hand against the windowsill. “’Tisn’t love, Ardan.” He turned and saw his son nod. He sat on the window ledge and held his head in his hands. “Wee Maura’s been ill. You know how much I adore her.” His contented smile was short-lived. “I went to Niamh’s house
two nights ago. To bring her stew Mary made.”

  Ardan frowned, as his father paused. “I know this, Da. You came back upset because you feared Niamh was catchin’ what Maura had.”

  Seamus shook his head. “No. ’Tis what I told your mother. May God forgive me, but I lied to my Mary.”

  “Why?” Ardan asked, canting so far forward in his chair he risked falling out of it.

  His da stared at him with a bleak look in his eyes. “I stared in through the window, as I watched my Niamh sob on the floor. Begging that worthless beggar Connor to love her. To care for her, as he had promised on the steamboat.” Seamus closed his eyes. “An’ I realized I had failed her. She saw Colleen, beggin’ me, an’ thought that was how it should be between husband and wife.”

  “Da,” Ardan breathed.

  “I’d hoped, now that Mary’s back, Niamh would remember.” His voice caught. “Remember the time before we lost your mum.”

  Ardan rose, taking his father by the shoulders. He squeezed them to reassure him. “She does, Da. She was ten. She remembers Mum. She remembers how it was between you.” He shook his head and then shrugged. “For some reason, she doesn’t believe she has the right to such joy.”

  “Ah, lad, I don’t know what to do to help her.”

  Ardan sighed. “Support her so she knows, no matter what, that she always has your love.”

  Seamus focused on his eldest and smiled his thanks. “Ah, my brave, strong lad, how are you?”

  Ardan attempted a smile, before he suddenly fought a sob. “I don’t know what to do, Da. I can’t remain in this town. Waitin’ for a day that will never come.” He turned away and sniffed, as he swiped at his eyes. His head was bowed as he faced the rear of the office. With shaking shoulders he attempted to corral his strong emotions. After a moment, he blurted out, “I think I should travel with Declan. I must leave.”

  Seamus’s breath hitched. “Four of you to leave?”