Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5) Page 6

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “Please do; you’ll make an easier target.”

  He couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “I’ll take the risk.”

  He slid a bit to the side and took a seat on a low stool. She adjusted her position as well, keeping him within easy range of her chosen bit of weaponry. A shaft of morning light illuminated her, letting him see her for the first time. Though he made vague note that she was pretty and somewhere near his age, any details beyond that were lost. The same feeling of anticipation, the premonition he’d not managed to sort out weeks earlier, crashed over him once more. The force of it temporarily pushed all other thoughts from his mind.

  Who was she?

  He could see her well enough now to be certain that he didn’t know her. Her mouth pulled in a tight line, her gaze didn’t waver, her pitchfork remained utterly still. Eyes gave people away; hers showed determination, but also unmistakable worry. He didn’t know what she had to do with his most recent bolt of frustratingly unspecific insight, but he felt absolutely certain she wasn’t a threat.

  He leaned back against the wall of the barn, tucked his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. He would far rather be seeing to his chores, but he’d not let a rare chance to rest pass him by.

  “You mustn’t be overly concerned that I mean to murder you.” A hint of amusement touched her words.

  “I only figure, if I’m going to die an inglorious death in this barn, I’d do well to be comfortable while I wait for the end to come.”

  He opened one eye a tiny sliver, allowing him a glimpse of her without giving him away. She’d lowered her pitchfork a bit, though not entirely. Her posture had slipped. The fearsome warrior of a moment earlier looked deeply tired.

  She was a mystery and no denying it. His premonitions had never proven empty. When he felt the winds of change begin to blow, the storm always arrived. And the moment he’d truly seen her, those winds had become a gale.

  “Are you certain you won’t tell me your name?” he asked.

  The pitchfork resumed its previous position, though, with him now tucked more in a shadow, the woman could not have known he was watching.

  He sighed rather dramatically. “Tell me when brave Sir Tavish arrives to rescue me.”

  He closed his eyes fully once more and settled in as comfortably as he could. The moments stretched out in silence between them. He’d spent long, exhausting days in his fields the past few weeks. Every day he awoke more tired than he’d been the day before. Sitting still and quiet, he could feel himself beginning to drift off, as much as one could while waiting to be impaled.

  His captor coughed. Not the light cough of one with a bit of dust in her throat or from feeling a bit under the weather. Her chest rattled, emitting a sound that made his own lungs hurt with sympathy.

  He opened his eyes. “Are you needing to sit down?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  He looked at her a touch more closely, as much as the dim barn light would allow. A fragileness in her belied the fearsome picture painted by their current arrangement. The puzzle she presented grew more complicated.

  Footsteps echoed in from just outside. A moment later, Tavish stepped through the doorway. He crossed the small barn, with a young man of likely thirteen or fourteen at his side—Aidan, no doubt. As they approached, Ryan couldn’t help staring. The lad could’ve been Tavish’s own son, they looked so much alike.

  “I’m told we’ve a situation.” Tavish sounded on the verge of laughter, a not unusual thing for him.

  The woman lowered the pitchfork, even set it against the wall, and turned to face the new arrival. She froze, then she whispered, “Oh, my heavens.”

  “Maura.” Tavish rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Welcome to Hope Springs, darling.”

  Darling? Something odd was going on here. Tavish was married, and not to this “Maura.” Furthermore, Tavish was quite happy in that marriage. She must be connected to him some other way. A sister, perhaps? Ryan hadn’t heard of any O’Connor sisters not already in Hope Springs. The only siblings who hadn’t come West were two brothers, both killed in battle.

  Maura—it was nice to have a name to put with his assailant—leaned a bit into Tavish’s embrace. “’Tis a fine thing to see you again.”

  Tavish squeezed her tighter for a bit, before loosening his embrace and giving her a look-over.

  She spoke again before he could. “You’ve grown up, lad.”

  Lad? Tavish is older than I am. How old was Maura? She hardly looked ancient.

  “This boy here, is the one who’s grown.” Tavish motioned to Aidan. “Mercy, he looks like his da.”

  Maura sighed. “So do you, Tavish. So very much.”

  Tavish grinned. “Grady always was handsome.”

  That brought an answering smile to Maura’s face. Ryan watched them both, fascinated. He didn’t know the exact connection between them, but it was clearly a close and affectionate one. Somewhere in the back of Ryan’s mind, he knew that name—Grady—but couldn’t be certain where exactly he fit in the O’Connor family.

  “I’d wanted to come by and greet you last evening,” Tavish said. “But Ma told us not to bother you, as you needed to rest from your journey.”

  “I’d meant to rest a bit longer, but I caught this interloper in the barn.” She motioned with her head to Ryan. “He says the place is his.”

  Tavish adjusted his hat, returning his attention to Ryan. “In a manner of speaking, it is.”

  That revelation did not appear to meet with Maura’s approval.

  “The land and house belonged to my granny,” Tavish said.

  Maura’s mouth twisted in disbelief. “I happen to know that none of your grandparents left Ireland.”

  “A long story, Maura. I’ll explain it in full later.”

  Maura pointed at Ryan. “As that story likely explains him, you’d best tell me the details now.”

  “And,” Ryan jumped in, “as her hearing the details will mean I can get back to work, I support the telling as well.”

  Maura glared him near to his grave for that bit of cheek.

  “This house and land belonged to a dear old woman who meant all the world to me,” Tavish said. “She was too old and frail to work the land herself, so it was arranged with Ryan, here— Ryan Callaghan,” Tavish abruptly added. “Ryan, this is Maura O’Connor.”

  O’Connor. She is family.

  “We’ve an arrangement with Ryan,” Tavish continued. “He works the land, growing crops and making what profit he can. A bit of that is paid back for upkeep on the house and barn and such, and was used by Granny while she was still alive. The land was left to my wife and me.”

  Maura’s fierce expression gave way to a bright smile. “You’re married?”

  He beamed. “Eight months now.”

  “Oh, Tavish.” She hugged him again. Prickly, pitchfork-wielding Maura O’Connor hugged Tavish with all the tenderness of a doting sister. “It’s right happy I am for you. Right happy.”

  “Once you’re settled and rested, you can come have supper with us. I’ll introduce you to my Cecily. I’ll warn you though, she’s fearsome.”

  “Fearsome enough to hold a pitchfork to a man’s throat?” The moment the remark slid free, Ryan pressed his lips closed. At Maura’s hard glare, he held his hands up in a show of surrender, and leaned back against the wall once more.

  The boy, Aidan, stepped up beside Maura, keeping close to her side. She put an arm around him in a gesture too maternal for him to be anything but her son. To have a lad of likely thirteen or fourteen, she must’ve been older than he’d first guessed.

  “Finish your story, then,” Maura said. “Ryan Callaghan works the land. Will he be in the barn every morning?”

  “I’d imagine so,” Tavish said. He turned to face Ryan. “The family’s given Maura and her lad use of the house now that they’ve come to town, while they’re sorting out just what they mean to do in the long term. We�
��ve every intention of keeping our agreement with you about working the fields and such.”

  Their agreement never had included the house. Ryan had meant to change that. What was he to do now?

  Ryan stood. “I’d hoped to talk with you about that, actually.”

  “Walk back with me,” Tavish suggested.

  Ryan nodded. He turned to Maura. “The cow’s been seen to. You’re welcome to the milk, if you’re needing it, though I’d ask you to save me a glass. Payment for my efforts, if you will.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. They’d not begun on a good footing, and she didn’t appear ready to change that.

  Another chest-rattling cough, stopping Tavish in his tracks.

  “That doesn’t sound good, Maura.”

  She waved him off. “It’ll pass. Have your chat.”

  Tavish hesitated a moment, but resumed their walk. Ryan strode alongside Tavish out of the barn into the light of morning. He had so many questions that he didn’t know where to begin.

  Ryan glanced back one more time, though he could no longer make her out in the dim interior of the barn. Her arrival was the change he’d been anticipating for weeks. He felt it in his very bones. Everything had just changed.

  “That made for an interesting morning,” he said. “Strangers with pitchforks are not a common occurrence.”

  “I’m guessing my ma didn’t warn her that you’d be around,” Tavish said.

  “To be fair, you didn’t warn me that she’d be around, either. Nearly gave me a heart attack, she did.”

  Tavish tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Seems we made a mull of the entire thing.”

  “I’ll accept an explanation now,” Ryan said. “Better late than never.”

  “She’s family and fallen on a bit of tough luck. They were needing to leave New York and wanted to be around family. We couldn’t countenance making them live in the corners of someone’s home when there was an empty house amongst us.”

  He could appreciate that. “Living in someone else’s house would be a burden, for sure.”

  “I don’t know what she’ll do in the end, but for now, they’ve a roof over their heads.”

  “This roof?”

  Tavish nodded. “It’s put everyone’s mind at ease.”

  ’Twasn’t putting Ryan’s mind at ease. “You said you mean to keep our arrangement even with Mrs. O’Connor and her boy living in the house.”

  “You’d best call her Maura,” Tavish said. “There’re a few too many Mrs. O’Connors around for anything else.”

  Which brought up another question. “How’s she connected to you? Her boy is your spittin’ image. It’s a little eerie, truth be told.”

  “Seeing him walk into my barn nearly knocked me over, I’ll tell you that.” Tavish shook his head in obvious shock. “Aidan is my brother Grady’s son. Maura is his widow.”

  “Grady’s one of the two who died.” Of course.

  “Both killed at Gettysburg.” A deep sadness filled his eyes. “Grady, Patrick, and I looked a fair bit alike. Seeing Aidan is like seeing a ghost . . . two of them.”

  Far too close a connection for Ryan to believe the O’Connors would ever toss Maura and her boy out of the Claire place if she had even the slightest desire to stay. That didn’t bode well for him.

  “Any inkling what Maura’s plans might be?” he asked.

  Tavish shrugged. “We’re simply going to give her time and see what she decides.”

  This was uncertainty Ryan hadn’t anticipated. Make plans, then adjust had been his philosophy for as long as he could remember. But he wasn’t at all certain how to adjust for this.

  If Maura O’Connor was eventually granted a permanent claim to the house, the land would no doubt be given to her as well. All he’d worked for and dreamed of would be snatched away. He’d lose everything.

  Again.

  His blurry second-sight had proven painfully correct once more. Maura had blown in, not as a wind of change, but as a tornado of destruction.

  Chapter Six

  Maura’s first morning in Hope Springs was proving more than a bit tumultuous. Holding a stranger off by pitchfork was not something she’d ever imagined herself doing. If only someone had thought to mention that a man would be wandering the place at all hours of the morning.

  She didn’t like the arrangement one bit. Yet, she had no room to complain. Her trek across the country had been made on the promise of a room. That she’d been granted an entire house for her and Aidan had been an unforeseen blessing from heaven itself. To argue that Mr. Callaghan’s presence in the barn and out in the fields was a great invasion of her privacy felt rather petty.

  Should he insist upon full access to the house, however, she would make her objections widely known. ’Twasn’t merely a matter of privacy, but safety. She was a woman living alone, with a child to look after. Though she preferred to think the best of people, the decade since Grady’s death had taught her to be cautious.

  “Time to be going,” she called to the loft overhead.

  Though the home had two bedrooms, Aidan had taken an immediate liking to the open loft. If he felt at home there, she would let him make it his own.

  “Do I have to go to school?” He climbed down the ladder.

  “You must. At school, you’ll learn useful things. You’ll be a better reader and writer. You’ll learn to do more complicated ciphering.”

  Aidan dragged his feet as they moved toward the door. “I don’t need to know any of that.”

  “You might. Most people living out here farm. You’d need ciphering to know if you’d money enough for living on. You’d use your reading and writing to order seed and equipment.” They stepped outside. “Or you might find yourself pursuing a different line of work that needs those things even more. ’Tis best we prepare for whatever lies ahead.”

  “You never needed all that much schooling,” Aidan said as they made their way up the dirt path leading to the road. “You didn’t learn to read until you were grown, and you’ve never done any fancy ciphering.”

  “Which is why I know how important it is.” She linked her arm through his, knowing his objections rose far more from nerves than actual disapproval. “If I’d had any learning, maybe I’d not have needed to work in the factory. Maybe you’d not have needed to shine shoes for pennies.”

  “I don’t mind working, Ma.”

  She patted his arm. “I know it. And I love that about you. I simply mean to see to it you’re prepared for the twists and turns of life.”

  He needed to be ready to support himself, to survive more or less on his own. He would have the O’Connors around him—she was determined to build a relationship between him and his father’s family—but once she was gone, he would be an orphan. Without immediate family. She would not leave him helpless. He had an opportunity to return to the schooling he’d had to give up when hardship forced him to go to work. She would not throw away that chance.

  They’d left with ample time to reach the schoolhouse before class began, so she didn’t walk quickly. As the days grew shorter, this walk would be made in the dark and cold. Aidan would need to be convinced enough of the importance of school to be willing to undertake the trip without her there to nudge him along.

  A number of children, more than Maura had expected based on the size of the town, were gathered around the building.

  “Look about you, Aidan. You’ll make a great many friends today, I’m certain of it. Some of these children are your cousins,” Maura reminded him. “You’ll get to know them better. And I see a couple of boys who look to be your age.”

  He nodded silently.

  They walked to the schoolhouse steps, where a woman, the only adult in the gathering, stood, looking over the children. Maura climbed the steps, but Aidan hung back.

  Though a touch out of breath, she greeted the woman she suspected was the teacher. “Good morning. My boy, Aidan, has come to be part of the school.” Heavens, but those few words
were difficult to get out. Her lungs meant to fight her.

  “Has Aidan had schooling before?” A thoroughly American accent, the first Maura had heard since arriving in Hope Springs.

  “A bit,” Maura said. “He’s been away, working, these past few years, though. I don’t know how much he remembers from before.”

  The woman smiled kindly. “He’ll catch up quickly, I’m certain. Young ones rally more quickly than adults.”

  “They’ve resiliency, there’s no denying that.” She was counting on Aidan being quick to adapt.

  “I am Mrs. Hall,” the woman said. “My husband recently took the position of preacher here in town, and I am the new teacher.”

  “Maura O’Connor.”

  Mrs. Hall’s features lit. “We have a number of O’Connors in our school.”

  “Aidan’s cousins,” Maura explained.

  “He should feel right at home, then.”

  She certainly hoped so.

  “Will he be leaving early to help work fields?” Mrs. Hall went on. “Many of our older students do this time of year, when so much is being planted.”

  “That is not currently our plan.” She would need to think on it, though. If he were to make a life for himself here, he would need to know how to work and maintain fields. Maura couldn’t teach him that. Perhaps Tavish would be willing, though it would be a burden for him to spend his time and effort on someone with so little experience. Aidan would be more of a hindrance than a help.

  “Should your plans change,” Mrs. Hall said, “you need only tell me. Many of our students also do not attend during harvest, there being too much work to be done. Let me know if Aidan will be gone then. I’ll see to it he doesn’t fall too far behind.”

  Maura nodded. She had far more to sort out than she’d realized.

  “Mrs. Hall, will you help?” a child’s voice called from nearby.

  The teacher offered Maura a quick dip of her head before slipping away to answer the child’s pleading.

  Maura turned her own focus on Aidan. He stood at the base of the stairs still, eying the other students with uncertainty. The children were playing in the schoolyard, a bit apart from where Aidan stood. Even from that distance, he was receiving ample attention.