The Cowboy's Tempestuous Irish Bride (2 page)

If Siobhan hadn’t have strayed. If she had stayed at their side as Connor had expected and as she had been taught. Then none of this would have happened. Of course it was her fault. At least that was the way the grieving man saw it. It was irrational, he could see it now. But this was ten years down the line. The passing of time couldn’t take back the things he said over those first couple of years of hurt. He knew that he to blame for his daughter turning out the way she had. He knew it in his heart. And yet there was still something deep inside, something that said that it was her fault. She was to blame. As she grew up, she developed into a young mirror image of her mother. He never spoke of it, but it made it harder for
 
him seeing his wife in front of him. Yet not.
 

Now she was such a fiery hate filled young woman. No one could do a thing with her. He was glad to be away in Dublin for a few nights. The shouting around the dinner table last night was something else. He told her how she had humiliated him in front of his people. And she had laughed in his face, saying that he humiliated himself by the way he treated her. She didn’t stop there of course, she continued that the whole town could she how he was trying to get rid of her, attempting to palm her off on any man than showed interested. Then the
 
final straw came, she said that her mother would be turning in her grave at the way he had treated her. He had snapped and slapped her around the face. She shut up then.
 

 
He sipped his pint of Guinness in the booth of the little dark inn in Baggot Street and checked his pocket watch. The man he had arranged to meet would be here soon. He was praying that he might the answer to his problem. A bout of laughter at the bar brought him out of his thoughts. The woman behind the bar was probably younger than Siobhan. She had the same fiery flame red hair, but it was down to her waist. She was wearing a tight fitting dress that showed off her figure to its best advantage, he felt a urge rush through his body and then saw that half the bar was also transfixed with the girl. He shook his head. This would be how it would be in that dirty little inn that his daughter worked in. She thought that she had managed to keep it from him, but he knew. A few of his customers were fishermen and they had see her in there and mentioned it. He was keen to have her married and moved on. But he certainly was no fan of the thought of dockers and workers lusting after her like a two penny whore. What if some of his more respectable clients found out?

A thin weasel like man, accompanied by an equally thing weasel woman entered the bar. Everyone turned to look. It was clear they weren’t regular patrons of the establishment. The man gave a cursory glance around the bar and his eye settled on Connor. He nudged the weasel woman in the ribs and walked over to Connor who rose in a respectful manner.
 

“Mr O’Rocke?” Conner asked hopefully.
 

“Indeed. Indeed. You must be Mr O’Reilly?” The man replied.
 

“I am,” Conner said softly.
 

“This is my lady wife and partner in the business,” O’Rocke said waving his hand in the direction of his wife who was now wearing a very stern expression.
 

“May I get you both a drink?” Conner inquired.
 

O’Rocke’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Very kind of you Sir. I’ll have a pint of the black stuff.” Mrs O’Rocke let out the sort of noise that might have come from a horse in distress.
 
O’Rocke looked at his wife and then back at Conner. “Actually, just half a pint Mr O’Reilly. That would be very kind.”

“Madam?” Connor asked.
 

Mrs O’Rocke shook her head in dismay “Not for me thank you kindly. Drink is the road to the devil my old mother used to say. I agree with her.”
 

She must be a pile of fun thought Connor, but nodded his head in understanding and disappeared to see the attractive redhead to order the drinks. On his return he found the couple had made themselves at home and had started pulling papers from their briefcase.
 

“Thank you kindly Mr O’Reilly,” O’Rocke said as he looked longingly at the drink Connor placed in front of him.
 

“So Mr O’Reilly,” began Mrs O’Rocke assuming command of the meeting. “It is our understanding that your daughter is interested in becoming a Mail Order Bride and moving to the United States.”
 

“That is correct,” agreed Connor after a short pause.
 

The woman looked Connor up and down, “Does she actually know anything about this?’
 

Connor took a depth breath and wondered how the woman could have seen straight through him in just a matter of seconds. “Umm, well strictly speaking no she doesn’t. You see, she is a very troublesome young…”

“Mr O’Reilly,”
 
she interrupted “It matters not to us. This is a business transaction, nothing more and nothing less. Your reasoning behind it is of no concern to us.”
 

“That is good to hear,” said Connor smiling. “So what can be done?”
 

Connor arrived home late from Dublin, Siobhan was already asleep when he returned. It suited him better that way, there would be less opportunity for questions. Less opportunity to change his mind.
 

When he awoke the next morning, his breakfast was on the table as he expected it. His daughter had already eaten and was busing herself in the kitchen. She heard him come down the stairs and brought through his pot of tea.
 

He nodded his head in silent acknowledgment.
 

“How was Dublin?” Siobhan managed to ask in an effort to break the silence.
 

“Very good as it happens,” replied Connor not taking his eyes off his newspaper.
 

Siobhan decided she wasn’t going to get very far, but at least they weren’t shouting at each other. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally got the message about these potential suitors. He clearly wasn’t going to say that he was in the wrong so why push the matter? She disappeared back to the kitchen; dinner, was being prepared. She had learnt to get it done early, that way there would be time enough for her work at the Anchor. Half an hour later, she heard the front door slam shut. She outwardly breathed a sigh of relief, he was gone and she could relax. And yet part of her felt regret. Why couldn’t they sit down together and eat breakfast as father and daughter? Why couldn’t he say that his was leaving? And why couldn’t she wish him a pleasant day at work?

 
She knew why.
 

Years of past history and hurt prevented it.
 

Six hours later she walked down the road with a smile on her lips. The compliments had been flowing from the regulars in the Anchor. One in particular, James, had taken a particular shine to her. Siobhan couldn’t deny that he was handsome and extremely charming. When he spoke it was as though they were the only people there in that room. When he said something nice, then her cheeks would color and she would go coy. In any normal situation, they would probably be courting. There was a problem though. James was the son of the biggest crook in the south of Ireland. If the father were a crook then it stood to reason that the son was a crook as well. As much as she was desperate to escape her father and as handsome and charming as James was, there was no way that she wanted to walk into a life of crime. Although, one plus side, it would certainly upset her father.
 

She opened the door to their home and immediately froze. She heard the soft murmur of her father’s voice coming from the sitting room. This could only mean trouble, she thought. She couldn’t recall a situation in the last ten years that her father returned home from work in the middle of the day. She marched into the sitting room and saw her father conversing with two men. A tall, powerful man that looked like he was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and thin man with rodent like features. All three immediately shut up when she entered the room. For some reason Siobhan immediately thought that they were debt collectors. Had her father been gambling?
 

“Oh yes, she is more than acceptable,” the rodent like man said to her father after a few seconds running his eye up and down her.
 

Siobhan ignored the comment, “Father? What are you doing home at this hour?”
 

“Where have you been?” Connor demanding, knowing perfectly well the answer.
 

“The market. I heard there was some new cloth come in, but it had all gone by the time I got there,” she lied instantly.
 

Connor moved towards her, looked her in the eye and said, “That is the last time you will ever disrespect or lie to me.”
 
Siobhan didn’t respond and she felt her face color just like when she was child. Her father ploughed on, his voice getting increasingly louder. “Do you think I don’t know about you parading yourself like a whore in that dirty tavern everyday? Did you? Of course I knew. I know about everything. I know the way you are saving that money in that old jam jar under the floorboards. I know you want gone from here. Well I want you gone from here more than I can possibly say. The shame you have bought on me with your insolence and lack of respect. And so, I have made both our wishes come true.”
 

“What?” Siobhan managed to spit and then her eye moved to the rodent man and his words, She is more than acceptable. Surely her father hadn’t arranged a marriage to him?
 

“You are going on an adventure Siobhan,” her father continued pointing at a pair of large carpet bags on the floor. Siobhan’s eyes grew wide as she finally saw the bags bulging at the large man’s feet. “I’ve done my best with you, I really have. But I can’t control you. You have a heart full of anger. You are wild. And so you are going to the wilds. I had made arrangements with Mr O’Rocke here.” He waved towards the rodent man.
 

She looked over at O’Rocke in horror. “If you think I am marrying him then you are very much mistaken.”
 

O’Rocke took off his spectacles and polished them on a handkerchief, “I strongly doubt Mrs O’Rocke would be very pleased either to be honest Miss.”
 

“You are going on the biggest adventure in the world. You are going to the United States.”
 

Siobhan’s chin moved rapidly towards her chest and her mouth hung open for a second. “I most certainly am not.”
 

“You are. There are good men out there. Out west they are. Ranchers, Railroaders, and the like. They need wives. The accommodation is basic, I’m told. But I have a feeling it will suit you well girl.”

Siobhan looked at O’Rocke with a sense of confusion. “I don’t understand.”
 

“Let’s put it simply,” O’Rocke said. “Your father here has decided that you are too wild. And he has sold you to become a Mail Order Bride for a cowboy.”
 

“Sold me? I don’t think so,” Siobhan turned and gathered up her skirts. And with a last look of hatred at her father she started running for the door. The larger man who had failed to speak or move up till this point covered the distance in a matter of seconds. He picked Siobhan up under one of his strong arms.

“Put me down you brute,” she shouted, her legs kicking widely in the air.
 

O’Rocke pulled out a little bottle from his coat pocket and emptied a little of the contents into his handkerchief. He walked over to Siobhan, who was still in the air, demanding to be put down. “We can’t have this, can we Miss? They’ll never let you on the ship.” And with that he placed the handkerchief over Siobhan’s nose and mouth. Within seconds she was asleep.
 

Connor looked at O’Rocke with shock. “Don’t worry Mr O’Reilly she will be as right as rain. Chloroform is a wonderful thing.”

Siobhan awoke staring at a white ceiling and had the feeling that the room was rocking.

Where was she? What had happened?

What was that crazy clicking sound?
 

Her mind drifted somewhere between sleep and being awake. She remembered her father being home and those two strange men. And then she remembered the deal that her father had struck and her attempts to get away. Then she remembered the brute, lifting her and then she remembered no more. She groaned as she shifted her weight, her head felt heavy. So heavy.
 

“I pray you won’t be sea sick. I’ll have none of that no. None of that in this cabin. It is a long way to New York I will not have this place stinking of vomit the whole way there.”
 

Siobhan summoned up the energy to lift her head and saw a woman sat knitting. As she sat up she realized why the room was rocking. She was on a ship.
 

“Careful dear,” the woman said again without dropping a stitch. “Your head will be swimming for a while. The drug does that I’m told. Now I’m sure you won’t be running anywhere while we are on board will you? After all there is no where to go.”

“Who are you?” Siobhan managed to asked through the haze.

 
“I’m Mrs O’Rocke. You have already met my husband I believe? And Sam of course. My little boy. Of course he isn’t so little.” She burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. “They are in the cabin next door. I’d have preferred to share with Mr O’Rocke to be honest with you Siobhan. But we could hardly put you in with Sam could we? It would be quiet improper. Don’t want you spoiled before we arrive do we?”
 

“What is going on?”
 

“Goodness I thought all of this had been explained to you dearie? You aren’t a half-wit are you? You may be pretty enough, but no-one will want a half-wit for a wife.” She didn’t wait for an answer to her question before she ploughed on with her monologue.”Your father has very kindly arranged with us that we shall find you a nice husband over in Texas. We gave him a small fee for the privilege. Nothing compared with what Mr Neill is paying us of course. He is the rancher that you will be marrying.”