The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 (27 page)

Josephine.

Her name echoed through his heart and mind. There wasn’t a second that had passed when she hadn’t been in his thoughts. She rode beside him as he traveled the territory with Sam and her ragtag crew. She slept beside him at night. She held him during the frigid winter. She was everything to him.

And he had left her behind. Discarded her as though she were worth nothing.

The winter had taught him many things, not the least of which was he was a goddamn fool. Every day he saw her face in the wind, the rocks, the ground beneath his feet. Working with Sam and her crew was lonely, hard work. Until he met Jo, he hadn’t known what he’d never had. He had thrown away the gift of her love and the future they could have together. All because of his pride.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was better than living his life without her. Perhaps it was true what they say—you can’t miss something you never had. Well, he’d had heaven in his arms and he knew just how wonderful it was. He’d been a foolish man, but no longer.

If she never forgave him, he wouldn’t blame her. He would do his best to convince her to give him another chance and marry him. Declan knew he didn’t have much of a chance, but he was going to try. If he survived the storm anyway.

A dark shadow appeared in the distance. As he drew closer, the shape of a barn developed. He wiped his eyes again, the crusted ice on his sleeve raking across his already raw skin. The yard beyond was familiar. He’d found the Malloy ranch.

Relief coursed through him, followed quickly by anxiety. What if she rejected him—or shot him? What if John did? Declan deserved every blow that came his way and then some. He dismounted, his bones aching from the cold, the ice cracking on his canvas trousers as he straightened.

Apollo shook his mane. The sturdy gelding had served him well since the moment he got him. He led the horse into the barn and secured him to a post. All the stalls were occupied with John’s herd. No matter, the barn was warm and dry. A shudder moved through the horse’s flanks as Declan pulled off the sodden saddle and blanket. He used a potato sack to wipe Apollo down, then found a bucket of feed and water.

Exhausted beyond measure, he patted the horse’s neck and leaned on him. “Thank you for bringing me to her, boy.”

The horse neighed softly, as though he were answering Declan. After another pat, he left the horse to his equine brethren and headed toward the house. The sleet slammed into him again, the cold biting into his already frozen body. Lights burned inside, which told him the family was still awake. He had no idea what time it was, but now was the time to make himself known and start apologizing to Jo.

He knocked, but no one appeared. Declan leaned his forehead against the wood and blew out a breath. It would serve him right if he froze to death on their doorstep. He knocked one more time but instead of seeing Josephine’s beautiful face answer it, he heard a scream from inside.

Declan burst through the door, pistol in hand, ready to defend his future wife, the woman who owned his heart. ’Til death should they part.

Jo tried to focus on the book in front of her, but her glasses kept sliding down her nose.

“What does it say?” John hovered at her shoulder, his body almost vibrating with anxiety.

“I am trying to read it, but you should understand this is an animal husbandry book, not one on midwifery.” Jo looked at her sister and frowned.

Frankie’s body struggled to birth the child. John was a big man, so it stood to reason the baby was also large. Her muscles strained and rippled with the contractions. Jo had tried to find a book to assist but succeeded in only securing a book on animals.

“You told me the book would help.” John spoke through clenched teeth.

“I specifically told you it might help.
Might
. I have not been present for a human birth or any animal’s. I am doing my best to learn what I can to assist my sister.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but she heard the strain and worry.

Frankie screamed, yanking on the sheets with white-knuckled fists. The sound went straight through Jo’s heart and tore through it. She wanted to help her but did not know how. It was the first time in her life that books had failed her.

“What in the blue hell is going on here?” Declan’s voice was like a bucket of cold water, leaving Jo gasping for breath.

He stood in the doorway, his skin red from the raw weather outside. He’d grown back the beard, the thick black whiskers littered with icicles. His clothes were soaked through, with chunks of ice dripping down. In his hand sat a very lethal pistol. Jo drank in the sight of him, her heart pounding.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted.

He lowered the gun as he caught sight of Frankie. His eyes widened. “She’s having a baby?”

“Yes, you fool. She is having a baby.” John stalked toward him. “Get the hell out of here before I pound that anvil head of yours again.”

Declan’s gaze swung to Jo, and she saw an apology in his expression. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear what he had to say. Yet the entire month she had been with him flashed through her mind, every second of it.

She sprang to her feet and shouted, “Declan! Your mother was a midwife!”

He started and nodded almost imperceptibly. John stopped his stomping gait and he pointed at Declan. “You are going to deliver this baby.”

Declan looked at Frankie again, her belly distended from the impending birth. “I, uh, my mother was the midwife, not me.”

Jo yanked the gun from his hand and placed it on the chair in the corner. “Go to the kitchen, remove your soaked coat and wash your hands in the hottest water you can manage.”

He started to shake his head, and she pushed at his shoulder. “You can and you will. You saved my life in worse circumstances. Women give birth to babies every day. This should be no different.”

Declan looked between the three of them but didn’t speak. John took a step closer. His face was a mask of worry and confusion.

“Please.”

It appeared to be enough to convince him. He nodded and disappeared from view. John went back to the bed and dropped to his knees, taking his wife’s hand.

“Don’t you die on me, Frankie. I would be mighty put out if you did.”

It was fascinating to Jo how men turned into the weaker sex when females were in distress. Except Declan. He remained strong and sure, nursing her from near death. Despite his stupid decision to leave, he had returned exactly when she needed him.

He returned to the room and looked at Jo. “You and me can talk later. Now I need you to bring hot water in a basin, clean rags and a needle and thread.”

She immediately did as he bade, eager to approach the situation with logic. Jo craved the calm his actions and knowledge brought her. They had kindred spirits, a connection that ran deeper than emotional or physical bonds.

Declan took charge, easing Frankie’s distress and helping her through the birth. Jo sat on one side of the struggling mother-to-be, John on the other. Hours passed by and they watched as the self-proclaimed gutter trash worked to birth the newest Malloy. They fetched what he needed and soothed Frankie as best they could.

Jo had never been so proud as to see the man she loved use what his mother had taught him to ease a new life into the world. As the sun pinkened the sky outside, the slippery little boy slid into Declan’s big hands, safe and secure. He cleaned up the babe, then swaddled him and laid him in Frankie’s arms.

Tears stung Jo’s eyes as the new parents gazed at their creation.

“I’ve got to finish up here with the afterbirth.” Declan spoke softly as he got to work. Jo assisted when he needed her. She took notes in her mind on everything he did. Later, much later, she would write it down.

He wrapped up the bloodied rags and afterbirth into a neat bundle and left the room. Jo hesitated only a moment before she followed him. It was time to talk.

Declan found a likely spot outside, far from the house and barn, and buried the bloody remains of the birth. He didn’t want any animals sniffing around, so he made the hole deep. The sleet pelted him as he worked, but he didn’t mind it. The warmth of the house had become stifling, the smell of blood overpowering.

Then there was Jo, watching him, assisting him. Her scent surrounded him. She almost overwhelmed him by simply being there. Declan, fool that he was, wanted to get down on his knees and beg her for forgiveness. But he didn’t. No, he was an even greater fool.

He stood in the shadows of the trees, his hot breath coming in white clouds into the frigid air. Declan hadn’t expected to deliver a child when he arrived. Hell, he hadn’t known Frankie was pregnant. The entire time he was helping her, he felt his mother’s presence behind him, guiding him, keeping him calm.

Eileen Callahan had been a strong, capable woman who protected Declan to her dying breath. Now she had given him the knowledge and calm he needed to bring a little Malloy into the world safely. His throat tightened, and for the first time since he’d asked Peck to kill his father in revenge for her death, he wanted his mother beside him. He wanted her arms around him, comforting him as he shook from the enormity of what had taken place inside the cabin.

As though he’d conjured them, arms slid around his back and squeezed him. His breath caught, and he knew in an instant it wasn’t the ghostly presence of his mam. It was the very real presence of the woman who now held his heart.

“It is positively freezing out here, Monsieur Callahan. Why are you standing out here in such foul weather?” She stepped around in front of him, her spectacles littered with tiny drops of ice from the sleet. A hood covered her head, but the wind pushed the icy concoction into her face regardless.

“Trying not to weep.” He’d blurted it before he could stop himself. Declan wanted to stuff those words back into his mouth forcibly.

Her gaze softened. “I had to hold back the tears too. It was a miracle, Declan. You saved both of them. He is currently wailing in his mother’s arms while his father attempts to cajole him into quietude.”

Declan smiled at the thought of John Malloy coaxing a squalling baby. He would pay money to see that sight.

“Why did you come back?” Her bald question needed to be asked and he was prepared with an answer.

He’d been composing the response for the last week as he made his way back to the Malloy ranch. Sam had understood his need, had paid him for his services and offered to hire him back if Jo refused him. Although she was rough around the edges, Sam was a good person inside. She had a soft heart.

The words, however, were stuck in his heart, banging on the walls to be let loose. His tongue and throat ceased to work and the words did not come. Her expression fell, and she stepped away from him.

“I should return to my sister.” She turned to go and began to walk away from him.

Say something, you idiot!

“I love you.”

She stopped walking mid-stride, her foot poised over the wet, crusty ground. “Pardon?”

“I love you. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to see what was behind those spectacles. You were everything I wasn’t and more. I’ve spent ten years using my bulk to get people to do what I want.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Then I met you and I had to use my mind and my heart. I didn’t know how until you taught me.”

The only sound was the hiss and pop of the sleet hitting unsuspecting objects, including his face. He burned with the need to make her understand, to accept that he wanted her, but he didn’t deserve her.

“Then why did you leave?” The raw emotion in her voice couldn’t be mistaken for anything but hurt. He had done that, hurt her, left her weeping in the dirt.

“I was scared. Scared you might find out how dark I really am inside, that I can’t read or write, that I did things to people to hurt them. I ain’t a brave man, lass, just a brawny one.” He wanted to pull her back, hold her, breath in her scent. He ached for her.

“You came back.” She turned and her face was cloaked in shadows. “I will ask you one more time. Why?”

This was the moment where the rest of his life was decided. Declan needed to make it perfect. He couldn’t make a mistake or he would pay for a long time.

“I thought I was doing the best thing by leaving. Best for who, I don’t know, but it surely wasn’t either of us. I told you I ain’t smart, but I did figure out what a mistake I’d made. I was an idiot who spent the winter alone and kicked myself every day for being stupid enough to leave. Nothing,
nothing
, was more important than being with you, loving you, waking up next to you.” His voice was thick with emotion and damned if his hands didn’t shake. “I can’t promise much except what I can earn as a ranch hand, but I can promise that I will love you every day for the rest of my life. I want to marry you, Josephine Chastain. This time with a preacher. I want to become Declan Malloy and leave Callahan behind for good.”

There. He’d said it all and he hadn’t exploded into a thousand pieces. Now, if she refused him, his heart surely would.

A few moments passed before she made a sound, something between a sob and a laugh.

“I had entire conversations with you in my mind of what I would say to you if you came back. Now I stand here speechless.” She sounded as though she wanted to cry.