Read The Cowboy's Tempestuous Irish Bride Online
Authors: Emma Ashwood
The Cowboy's Tempestuous Irish Bride (3 page)
Siobhan’s mind was clearing rapidly now and she was appalled. Her father had sold her? That is what this crazy knitting woman had said. Sold her and then these people had drugged her and put her on ship and then at the other end some rough cowboy was going to buy her. It was all too much. Siobhan quickly thought that this woman, this Mrs O’Rocke, was only answering these questions because she thought that Siobhan was still out of it on whatever drug they had used. So she decided to pretend for a while and see what other information she could find out.
“What’s he like?” she asked slowly.
“Who? Mr Neill. Never met the man dearie. He sounds pleasant enough. He is just a texan rancher like the rest. He needs a wife. A young pretty one to give him lots of sons to help around the ranch. He is going to be thrilled with you.”
Siobhan felt sick. Children? She should have ran off with James. At least she knew she liked him.
“When is the wedding?”
“Oh the wedding. I’m not sure dearie. Pretty much as soon as we get to Texas I’m sure. Although he does have a sister at home so he may leave it a short while. Just to make sure he is happy with you.”
Happy with me? Like he has just bought a horse? This whole business was sickening.
“Have you done this before?”
“Of course. This is our business. We run an agency. Many ladies have their own reasons for wanting to marry a man out west. Maybe they are widows? Maybe they have got themselves in trouble and need a husband double time. Others are looking to escape unwanted marriages at home or abusive parents. Sometimes we get these difficult cases like you.”
“Difficult cases?” Siobhan shouted sitting sharply up and completely forgetting that she was meant to be still feeling the affect of the drug.
“Steady on dearie,” replied O’Rocke. ”My little Sam is only next door he will be here in a heartbeat. You need to calm down. You got one bad temper my girl.”
Siobhan nodded her head. She had no desire to be manhandled by the brute again. It looked like she was in this situation for better or worse. There was nothing that she could do while on the ship. But once the thing had docked in New York then it would be a completely different story. It was one big, big city she had heard. Far bigger than Dublin or even London. She could lose them. Disappear in the New York streets and then start a new life in the United States. There were plenty of Irish there. She could work in a bar somewhere. Earn some money. Then her mind thought back to the money she had kept saved and then those two carpet bags. What had become of her savings? Her father had mentioned it. No doubt he would have pocketed it.
“Alright, I’m going to be no hassle,” Siobhan agreed laying down again. “An adventure in the west might well be fun. Especially if this guy is handsome.”
“That’s the spirit,” replied O’Rocke.
“Do have a clean dress or something? I don’t want to be a state when I met this man”
“Of course, your father packed all of your belongings over there.” She pointed to the far corner. Siobhan raised her head and just made out the two carpet bags. She resisted the desire to leap up and rifle through them. She would remain calm and when the opportunity arose she would check the bags. If she had money it would make her life easier at New York. If not she would find a way to escape anyway. There was no way that she was going to Texas to marry some dirty rancher who believed he could buy women.
The Meeting
“Move up,” Siobhan demand staring at the huge stagnant mass that was Sam.
“Move up a little Samy,” Mrs O’Rocke said to Sam. “Give our little princess room. We don’t want her arriving all ruffled and stressed do we?”
Siobhan looked out of the widow and watched as mile after mile of desert wasteland went by.
Over three weeks had passed since she had awoke on the ship. And a lot had happened. She had made friends with the O’Roakes on the crossing. She was determined to win their confidence. She made out that the prospect of adventure excited her, which wasn’t actually that hard. She found that she was actually excited by all of this. A new life in the States wouldn’t be that bad at all. She just didn’t want a life in Texas with a man that was expecting her to marry him as soon as she stepped off a train. She often gave way to fake moments of doubt or fear at night when it was just her and Mrs O’Rocke in the cabin. The older woman would comfort her and Siobhan would calm down. She gave no indication of her plans at all. In a rare moment of privacy she went through the carpet bags and amazingly she found that her father had packed all of her belongings including a treasured photograph of all three of them. It was taken just three weeks before her mother died and it was the only image of her mother that she owned. She felt a surge of thanks that her father had granted her that memory. But she was happier still to find at the bottom of the bag tucked between two thick cardigans a purse that by the weight of it alone must have contained her savings. She wasn’t about to get the money out and count it when the O’Rockes could walk in at any moment. If they found it, then surely she would lose it. So she put it back for the time being. But she knew that she would keep it close as soon as New York appeared on the Skyline.
Of course, she barely saw the New York skyline. They awoke on morning to a surge of people rushing about. They were there. Siobhan was just about to go up on to deck to watch their arrival into the port when a hand appeared from behind her with a handkerchief.
It was the last thing she remembered before she woke up in this acursed train carriage.
She hadn’t taken the fact that the O’Rockes had spoilt her plan very well. She had sulked for two days in an effort to make them feel guilty for drugging her again. But they didn’t really seem to mind. So she spend a day get angry. Now on the fourth and final day she spent it being agitated. How could she possibly escape. She rolled idea after idea around in her mind. And always she came up with the same thing. There was no escape! She would be in Texas by the end of the day and there would be a cowboy there that was expecting a bride. And there was nothing she could do about it.
They finally pulled up at the most basic train station she had ever seen. Deadwater’s Edge it was called.
“This is it,” Mrs O’Rocke said cheerfully.
“Are we getting off then,” Siobhan demanded as non of them looked like moving.
“You are dearie,” she said. “We aren’t.”
“Why? Don’t you want to met Issac Neill?”
“Not as much as you should dearie.”
The whistle sounded.
“Come on Sam, help the lady out,” Mrs O’Rocke said.
The huge figure of Sam bent down and grabbed her bags effortlessly in each hand. But as opposed to passing them carefully out of the carriage he hurled them out of the door.
“Hey!” Siobhan shouted. But then Sam came and very gently lifted her up and lowered her to the ground. “What?” she continued “You are just going to leave me here?’
Mrs O’Rocke stood up and peered out of the widow. “Yes dearie. That just what we intend to do. You be good okay?”
With that the train started to pull away. Strangely she felt sad. The O’Rockes
had been her world for the last month. As they disappeared into the distance she understood that now she was truly alone and her only option was to surrender to the will of the rancher who would be her husband.
She looked around the station and saw no one. And then, in the distance she saw a horse appear. As it got closer she saw that it was pulling a cart. And a cowboy was riding it. As he got closer he slowed. “Miss O’Reilly?’ he asked respectfully.
“Yes.”
He jumped off the horse and removed his hat and gave a little comical bow. It was the sort of thing you might expect at the Tudor court not in the middle of the Texas desert. “Isaac Neill at your service.”
Siobhan wasn’t expecting this at all. The man seemed to be quite well mannered. It also appeared that he was rather handsome as well. Strangely he had that same twinkle in his eye that James seemed to have back home.
“I’m afraid that Charity was feeling a little under the weather this morning and so decided not to travel,” he said.
“Charity?” she questioned.
Isaac looked at her strangely “Yes Charity. You know. My sister. We have been talking about her in my letters for weeks.”
Siobhan looked blankly at him. “I haven’t sent you any letters.”
‘What are you talking about? Of course you have sent me letters. We have been corresponding for almost a year.”
Siobhan shook her head. “I’m sorry Mr Neill. But whoever those letters are from they certainly weren’t me.”
Siobhan looked at him and he looked back at her and they both seemed like lost souls.
What on earth was happening here?
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SUMMER HOPE SERIES IS OUT NOW
THE COWBOY BRIDES OF SUMMER HOPE
- Complete box set
ONE BRIDE, TWO COWBOY BROTHERS
SISTER BRIDES FOR THE BROTHERS OF DEATH
THE BRIDES OF WILD WATER CREEK SERIES
THE COWBOY”S WIDOWED AND PREGNANT BRIDE
THE GREAT MAIL ORDER BRIDE SCAM
OTHER MAIL ORDER BRIDE BOOKS BY MISS EMMA ASHWOOD
THE ABUSED BIG BEAUTIFUL BRIDE RESCUED BY THE CHIVALROUS COWBOY
HEADING WEST TO THE HEROIC COWBOY
INDEBTED, IMPRISONED AND SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER
SOLD FOR A BRIDE TO THE COWBOY CATTLE RUSTLER
SOLD FOR THE COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT
SOLD TO THE COWBOY TO ESCAPE THE GANGSTER’S WRATH
The Sheriff’s Forlorn Irish Bride
The clouds converged on the southern horizon, peat brown with a black heart, billowing and ominous, the foretelling of a storm coming in from the harbor around mid-day. It was still early and the sun had just peaked over the newly consecrated St. Finn Barre’s cathedral, weak as badly brewed tea, the rays like filtered candle light, flickering in the gusty wind and the treacherous clouds. The gulls were fighting with the albatrosses while the stilts and avocets held council on the expected bounty of the day before the storm broke.
Philomena Cleary tiptoed across the room, the heavy curtains drawn across the windows lending it its gloomy indifference to the day. Sidestepping the creaking floorboard, Philomena approached the bed. With a high-pitched howl she pulled the covers away but was astonished to find a pair of lumpy pillows instead of Rowan and Alby.
“Gaaah!”
Philomena was lifted up into the air and thrown unceremoniously on the unmade bed. Alby launched himself on top of her, his chubby legs digging into her sides, his elbows propped on her chest as he looked down at his mother with unabashed glee.
“Mam!” he cried. “Dada!”
“Yes,” Philomena laughed. “You’re Dada sure gave Mummy a fright!”
Rowan grinned down at her, his dark curls ringing his face like a halo. Philomena loved that face, she had loved it from the minute she had laid eyes on him, dark eyes in a swarthy face, and lips that could whistle a tune and a song and a tale to win any woman’s heart. Philomena always thanked God that that woman was her.
“Where were you?” he asked, giving her a hand. “Alby and I’ve been waiting for half an hour. Our backsides are all hard and cold.”
Philomena smacked Alby’s backside in a playful manner and the infant giggled. Rowan opened the curtains to let in some light. The room was sparsely furnished, dominated by a large bed and a wardrobe, a small wicker crib in the corner.
“I was getting the washing,” Philomena said, rocking Alby on her knee. She bent her face to smell his hair; dark abundant curls just like his father. “Thought I’d wake my lazy bones up before I went to the market.”
“It looks like a storm’s brewing,” Rowan commented, gazing at the storm clouds on the horizon.
“Oh, it’s still some time coming,” Philomena assured, kissing Alby’s chubby fingers.
“Lain!” Alby cried pointing at the clouds.
“Yes, my love, rain is coming,” Philomena kissed his pink cheeks. If she had it her way she’d let the washing turn moldy, leave the dishes caked with grease for the rats, and allow the dust to collect on every surface of the house and spend all day with her baby boy instead of doing housework. But, of course, life wasn’t like that, was it? There were standards to keep. Husbands, even ones as wonderful as Rowan, liked a good clean home to come back to after work. Especially his work. It was her duty as a wife.
