1863 Saratoga Summer Read online

  She ran past him, across the first field, then across the second, past the barn. At the base of the stairs to the house, she wanted to turn to look, to study the man with a dispassionate eye, but thought it would break her heart into pieces.

  She sensed he was standing where she left him, not moving an inch to come after her. She trudged up the steps, head hanging low, with a mind a fury of conflicting thoughts and desires.

  My God, she thought, I’m in love with the man. She loved with a fury and a passion she never felt before. Through the terrible riots, excessive traveling and watching his easy way with Robbie, she learned to love. Her heart danced at the very sight of Connor.

  The realization chilled and heated at the same time. What she wanted was Connor’s arms around her, to become the wife she felt he deserved. Was she going to be alone forever in this world? Never to have anything she wanted? What was to become of her?

  Wavering, she turned around to look then chastised herself. Something snapped. She forced herself to stand stiff, spin on her heels and march up the steps with more purpose, running to hide the burning in her body.

  Besides, she loved the child with an intense fervor. Robbie would be cared for as she promised his father. No one could break the deathbed promise. She and Connor needed to arrange an annulment through the church, either in Ireland or here. The place where the marriage dissolved no longer mattered.

  She stood in the doorway of the house then, knowing they had nothing more to say to each other, went inside. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, hoping for strength in the new decision. With a new resolve, not to be broken, she held onto the wall for balance in the darkness and tiptoed down the shadow-draped hallway to the nun-like room at the far end of the house.

  The way her body shook, she seemed like a devout old Irish woman staring into the eyes of a banshee. Without bothering to undress, she flopped on the bed and let huge gasping sobs rack her body. The strangling sobs ripped across her nerves.

  ~*~

  Running his hands through his hair, Connor watched Sinead charge away. Chilled beyond belief, he felt like he was standing naked in a vast field of ice.

  The woman’s gentle smiling yet quiet demeanor, overburdened with a sadness she couldn’t hide, filled his mind. Love warred and wept in his stone cold heart. He wished to melt into the earth beneath his feet, wondering if he would again feel the beloved familiar warmth following a thaw.

  Sinead had awakened an unexpected, reluctant admiration in his perception of honesty. It made the taste of the defeat in their relationship most sour. She admitted, freely and openly, she cared for him, but he wasn’t as honest. Those facts, along with the grandest and, now, most slow-fading erection he’d ever experienced, did nothing to improve the moody temper beginning to build despite the admiration.

  As he walked toward the tent, where Bowes and he stayed when first on the property, his thoughts wandered and he searched his heart. He could run after Sinead, groveling like a pup awaiting scraps from the table, grateful for whatever small favors she promised this night.

  “Didn’t I dance enough, beg enough and sweat enough in my pursuit of her?” he grumbled. “Running after her, begging for more, would only strain my pride and prove the increasing weakness I get at the mere sight of her.” He knew those emotions were something he needed to negate if a return to Ireland was planned.

  Ireland… it was too strong a pull to turn down. How he longed for the peace and security he found in his father’s presence, in his father’s home, he thought, tramping through the damp grass.

  He stopped mid-stride. His da…wasn’t it his da who got him into this mess in the first place? The damned lottery! Bowes Brennan. The name was familiar somehow, lurking in the back of old memory somewhere. There was some connection he didn’t see before.

  Connor picked up his speed. He ran toward the tent, hoping Bowes had returned to the property, but the tent was empty. His damp shoes made tracks on the wooden floor. He flung them off and rolled onto one of the cots, still dressed.

  His thoughts would keep him company tonight. The need to come to America and give up all he held so dear bore heavily on the lottery in Ireland. He determined to figure out the connection between his da and Bowes and the lottery, a connection that sealed his fate.

  He had to think things through tonight. There were decisions to be made, decisions to affect every one of them. Nervously, he pushed hair from his temple, beginning to feel the magnitude of what he stood to lose, the home in Ireland, the close family ties, the beloved horses. Or a new wife and son. Everything needed sorting, some kind of logical order, without his usual inclinations toward daydreaming and grandiose visions.

  First, the horses. What did they mean to him? What of the breeding program started at O’Malley House? Could Bartley and the twins handle the tasks needed to make it a successful venture? Pain came with the admission they could do it, and easily. Didn’t their own da train them all the same?

  Besides, there were fine horses in America. Even he admitted some were equally as good as his Irish horses. Would he be able to establish an O’Malley Stud farm here in Saratoga? He didn’t know the answer. Only time would tell.

  He already knew going back to New York City was not an option for him. He hated everything involved with the place, but could he convince Sinead to stay with him here? He doubted it.

  And what of Sinead? Of Robbie? His wife was right. Why bear more children without a da to love them? It didn’t make any sense to him either. Perhaps, he wasn’t worthy of being any child’s sire—if he didn’t already consider Robbie his.

  For the entire night, Connor floundered with the fragments of dreams. When he woke the next morning, he was positive he would help Sinead get total custody of the wee laddie who counted so heavily on her love. He would uncover the secret the Dewitts harbored and save the two people who meant so much to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Yawning and stretching, Connor nearly fell from the narrow, hard and, far too short, bed. Slightly disoriented, not being where he expected to be—in the marriage bed—he rolled onto one side. Muscles aching from a restless sleep made him uncomfortable. Mindless ire rose with each movement.

  He raised one eyebrow then opened both eyes to a gray dawn. The eyes itched and burned. He sat up and rubbed the sleep particles from them, barely keeping his lips from curling into a snarl. With supreme effort, he pulled on boots and stood, groaning like a wounded animal.

  The bowl of clear water he’d set there the night before while he dressed still graced the table to the left of the cot. He sloshed his hands in the cold water, dashed some on his face without bothering to dry it, and glanced around at the depressing and restrictive environment of the tent. What a lousy way to live he thought and made a mental note to put up houses for the permanent help.

  He stopped short. Thoughts of the evening before came racing into his mind. Did he make some kind of decision? He wasn’t aware if he came to any conclusions regarding the problems existing between Sinead and himself.

  Suddenly, the picture of a chestnut horse jumping over a high, restrictive fence and knocking a woman to the ground popped into his memory. Trying to catch the scene and make it firm, he squinted, fumbling with mental fingers at images flashing by and escaping his grasp.

  “The horses on the property?”

  The sound of his own voice startled him. With pounding heart, he flew out of the tent onto the damp grass. Taking one deep breath, he scanned the area. The horses were turned out in the large field and serenely grazing on lush grasses. Harry stood in the middle of the smaller paddock, with long line, and exercised a mammoth bay gelding in a circle.

  He turned and sent a salute to Connor. “Con, here’s a horse for you. Big and powerful.”

  After nodding, Connor shrugged his shoulders, heaved a sigh of relief, pleased to see the horses being taken care of without express orders. He turned away and stared up at the house, resting peacefully on
the crown of a grassy knoll.

  The first flush of sunlight appeared over the horizon. It was time to go and face Sinead. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to absorb the shock the mere thought of her brought him. Perhaps, they could work out some compromise, something that might not jeopardize either of their futures.

  Raising an arm in a salute to Harry, to indicate where he was going, he started off across the fields at a jog, but slowed as he neared the stairs. A grand-looking, one-horse carriage Connor didn’t recognize wheeled up the drive and stopped in front of the house. Connor increased his pace and flew up the steps three at a time.

  John Morrissey sat calmly in the driver’s seat, studying the house. His gaze swept up as Connor came up the last step onto the landing. “Laddie, thought ye might stop at me establishment last evening,” John shouted.

  Connor crossed the roadway. Morrissey stepped down from his perch at the front of the vehicle and stuck a hand out in greeting. “I told ye I’d have a surprise for you today.”

  The men shook hands and cuffed each other on the back.

  Puzzled, Connor tilted his head to one side. “Och, aye. You did mention a surprise last night. I forgot. Other things took up space in my mind,” Connor said.

  Someone, who sat in the shadows at the back of Morrissey’s carriage, just beyond where the sunlight swept in, chuckled.

  “Too much into yer cups, were ye, laddie?” Morrissey asked, a sly grin dotting the broad, handsome face.

  “’Tis not much of a drinker I am,” Connor offered in response, wanting to discover who was in the back. The laugh sounded familiar.

  “Well, ‘tis of no importance whether ye remember or not. I’ve brought the surprise with me this morning and intend to leave it on yer doorstep. Come, laddie. Climb out of me carriage so I can be on me way.”

  A young man, red hair shining even in the soft light, leaped from the carriage and ran in a straight line at Connor. “Con. My God, ‘tis good to laying me eyes on yer ugly body.”

  Connor gasped, stunned. He fought back an overflow of strong emotion. One shriek, “Egan,” and Connor’s brother was clasped in huge, strong arms.

  Exploding with laughter, Connor grasped Egan around the back, lifted him with a mighty groan and swung around several times before allowing Egan’s feet to touch the ground again. “You’ve gained some weight there, brother.” They slapped each other’s back in their delight to be reunited.

  “Aye. And ye’re still as big as a horse. As strong as ever…”

  Without letting go, Connor held Egan away from him in order to take a better look. Egan’s freckles stood out against the light-skinned face. He had filled out, growing into the man he promised to be.

  A hug was in order, but how did you continue to hug a grown man? Connor stared at the youngest O’Malley brother. Something inside him cried out, nearly vocalized, to the young lad Egan used to be.

  “And where’s yer beautiful wife?” Morrissey asked.

  “Aye. Where’s Sinead?” questioned Egan. “What with all yer hollering, I thought she’d come running to the door to see what ailed ye.”

  The door squeaked open. The three men turned as one. Sinead peeked out, her face wistful, pale and distraught. Robbie was directly behind her, unsure, grabbing at her skirt. Still dressed in clothes from the evening before, her hair was messed. The dress looked like she slept in it, and she looked disheveled, ill at ease.

  The men stared, first at her, then at each other, speechless.

  “I’m here. Rob and I watched and listened to your male moans and groans. We didn’t want to disturb a meeting of the clans,” she murmured.

  She sent a brief smile to Morrissey. “Mister Morrissey.” She nodded to him then turned her attention to Egan. Her face was wreathed in a lingering grin. “Och, Egan, ‘tis glad I am to see you. So fit and healthy besides.”

  Morrissey took notice of the dress Sinead wore. He turned to Connor and gave him a peculiar, inquiring look. But the Irish in him forced him to be charming. “Och, missus, ye’re just as lovely to look at in the morning as ye are at night. Dressed in yer fanciest garments to greet the day, are ye?”

  Her eyes downcast, Sinead’s face flushed, turning a bright pink, and the color traveled up to her ears. The supreme discomfort under which she labored was apparent.

  Morrissey kept the conversation going. “Well, lads, ‘tis off to church with me wife, I am. When the two of ye are more settled, join us on Sundays. I’ll introduce ye to the most devout Father Michael. A grand young man he is, too.”

  Morrissey climbed back up onto the driver’s bench and tipped his derby to Sinead. “Missus. Gentlemen. I’ll leave ye to yer reunion.” With a mighty cluck to the horse, he maneuvered the carriage around on the circular roadway and waved at them. With another resounding cluck and slap of the reins, he was off down the road at a rapid trot.

  A strange expression of bewilderment froze on Egan’s face. He stared at Connor then at Sinead. As if he quickly summed up the situation, he queried, “Aren’t I to get an embrace from me favorite sister and me new nephew?”

  “I’m your only sister, if what my da tells me is true. A while back, he mentioned there were just the five O’Malley brothers and no lasses. Of course, I only know of you two.”

  “Do ye mean to tell me, Connor has not spoken of his family to ye?” Egan turned and glared at his brother. “What’s the matter with ye, Con? Are ye ashamed of the boyos?”

  “Whoa, there, brother. First there were the riots to speak of, then the long travel time to this place and the setting up of it. Sinead and I had little time for genteel conversation. Besides, I’m missing them all with such a fierce ache I can’t set it aside.”

  As he made the statement, Connor realized how true it was. He and Sinead never really talked about things of importance. They threatened each other with what was most prevalent on their minds, her custody of Robbie and his desire to go back to Ireland at the earliest opportunity. With a sad, searching gaze, he stared at her.

  Unable to withstand the penetrating stare, Sinead leaned down and whispered something in Robbie’s ear. The boy giggled, sped out the door and threw himself at Egan. “Mama said you’re my uncle.”

  Egan scooped the lad up and bear-hugged him until Robbie cried for mercy, giggling all the while. “That I am, young fellow, that I am. ‘Tis Uncle Egan I am, for sure,” he said, tickling Robbie for emphasis.

  About to place Robbie on the ground, Egan turned. Another carriage pulled by a large chestnut gelding entered the drive at a leisurely canter. Bowes and Pegeen sat in the driver’s seat together. “That’s my grandda Bowes.”

  “Just saw Morrissey on the road,” Bowes shouted. “He told us Egan was here. I’m wanting to speak to the lad.” He stopped the carriage in the circular roadway. “I wanted Pegeen to meet him.” He swiveled in the seat and put an arm around Pegeen. “This redheaded wonder is me son-in-law’s brother, Egan. Egan, Pegeen Riley.”

  With Robbie still in his arms, Egan moved to the side of the carriage and extended his hand. Sinead came out of the doorway like a shot, ran across the porch and tried to grab Robbie from Egan’s hold.

  He wheeled around to face her. “What’s the matter with ye, lass?”

  “Don’t take him near the horse, please…? She stepped back, wringing her hands. “He’ll get hurt.”

  “From this old nag,” her da teased. “’Tis alright, Sinead, child.”

  Connor leaped into the fray, taking the boy from Egan. Robbie’s little arms went around Connor’s neck and he put his face close so they touched at the brow.

  Robbie’s face scrunched into a pout, his lips turned downward. “I don’t like my mama, right now. She’s being naughty.”

  Sinead gasped and tears filled her eyes. She turned away and moved to the porch.

  “’Tis all right son. She’s just having a bit of fear for you,” Connor said walking to the horse’s head with deliberate steps.

  “I’m not afraid, da,” R
obbie said, shaking his head.

  “I know, son. ‘Tis something we’ll take care of right now. We are going to prove to your mama horses won’t hurt you.” Connor lifted Robbie up and put him on the chestnut’s back. “Hold tight to the horse’s mane. Good boy.” He patted him and called out, “Sinead, I want you to look here.”

  Stealing a glance at her, Connor saw she was frozen in the spot, and he took a short step toward her. “No matter what the cost to me in forcing you to do this, do this you must, for the lad’s sake,” he said softly.

  Sinead’s body trembled as if diseased. She gasped audibly then moved like a snail, her eyes so large everything was reflected in them. She sobbed in a breath before stumbling into Connor. She felt the pressure of his arm holding her steady.

  Robbie held on to the mane with one hand and waved to her. “Look, Mama. I can sit here and I’m not even hurt. Please, Mama…”

  The sight of him atop the huge horse sent a renewed stab of fear to her heart. She clutched Connor’s hand tightly, though it meant humiliating herself, and struggled to adjust her expression to one of pleasure.

  “Sinead, look at your son.” Connor urged. “He’s delighted to be where he is. Look, lass. Give him the pride in himself only a mother can give.”

  Knowing the others were watching her, her face ignited into flames of rushing heat. Her body shook, closing off breath until it ran short. She looked up at Connor, unable to bear his searching gaze, and pleaded, “Help me…”

  A strained pause held them all enthralled. Her glance over the roadway barely connected with Robbie’s before shifting back to Connor’s. Her body was depleted of all its strength. “Help me…”

  Sinead plunged into frigid, stultifying fear of horses. She needed to clear her mind of her mother’s accident or lose some tenuous grasp of her son. “Con, help me walk over there…to Robbie…to the horse. Please, Connor.” She looked up at him, begging for a boon. “Do this for me and I’ll not be asking another thing of you.”

  “Sinead, darlin’, ye can do it. For yerself,” Bowes said softly, his voice barely touching her. “When ye were a wee lass, ye loved the big beasties, as ye used to call them. I couldn’t keep ye away from them, nor yer mama neither. I know it was her undoing, but it doesn’t have to be yers. Take some of yer mama’s spirit for the laddie.”