Fitzpatrick: Cowboy Reluctant: Christian Historical Western (The Kavanagh Brothers Book 7) Read online

  Fitzpatrick: Cowboy Reluctant

  The Kavanagh Brothers Book 7

  Kathleen Ball

  Copyright © 2020 by Kathleen Ball

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Thank you to all of you who have read this series. Only three more brothers need to get married. Thank you for following me and reading my books. A huge thank you to those of you who leave reviews and share my Facebook posts. It means the world to me.

  I find in uneasy times books help me to escape for a while. I don’t know what I would do without my books. Books have always been my treasures.

  And as always, I dedicate this book to Bruce, Steven, Colt, Clara and Mavis because I love them!

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

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  Angus Book 8

  Teagan: Cowboy Strong

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kathleen

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  Chapter One

  “Whoa!” Fitzpatrick Kavanagh yelled, pulling back on the reins as hard as he could. He wouldn’t be able to stop in time. Heart pounding, he jerked the reins to the side, his only hope to steer around…

  Is that a woman?

  Veering the wagon to the right, the horses slowed to a stop. Wasting no time, he jumped down and raced to whatever was blocking the road. Sure enough, it was a woman.

  He stopped just short of her and stared. Was she dead? If she was dead, it might not be the best idea to touch her. If she had been a he, Fitzpatrick would have nudged the body with his toe. But that just didn’t seem right. He leaned over and studied her. She wasn’t looking good at all. Her clothes were ripped and disheveled, and no longer gave her decent covering. Her red hair, lying like a matted cloud about her head, was streaked with blood.

  He glanced around, seeking any sign of another person in the area. His sharp gaze detected no one, so he bent and tugged her skirt down to cover her bruised legs. Her body gave a convulsive jerk, but she didn’t rouse. At least he now knew she was alive. Dark bruising around her neck unsettled him. Whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been good. This woman was in trouble and needed help. Without giving it any more thought, he swung her up into his arms and put her in the wagon. He spread out one blanket and then put her on top placing another blanket over her.

  His trip to town would have to be postponed. He’d catch up with the men another time. That was the beauty of being single. There was no one to be accountable to. His time was his own, and he planned to keep it that way. That didn’t mean he would shirk responsibilities, such as aiding a random stranger in need he’d found on the road. After all, he couldn’t just leave her there.

  He looked on both sides of the road to see if she had lost any belongings, but he didn’t see a thing.

  Who was she? Where had she come from? He didn’t recognize her, and he was familiar with all the single females in Huntertown, many of them by association with his family members. He was brother number seven out of ten.

  A moan rose from the wagon bed, and he glanced over his shoulder, but she hadn’t moved. Thankfully, the ranch was right ahead. He could hand her off to one of the wives and be done with the whole thing.

  She started coughing profusely as spasms wracked her body and she writhed under the blanket. This time he stopped the horses and climbed into the back of the wagon.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she croaked out.

  Fitzpatrick hurried to put the tail gate down and help the woman off the wagon and onto her feet. She was so wobbly he daren’t let go, so he held her up. She retched and retched. When she was done, he sat her back in the wagon. She leaned against the side as he got his canteen and bandanna. He poured water onto the cloth and handed it to her.

  Her lips trembled as she offered a weak smile, and her blue eyes were full of gratitude.

  “Do you think you can drink some water?”

  She shook her head.

  He gave a nod. “Your stomach probably needs to settle. I’m going to get you comfortable in the wagon. We’ll be home soon. I’m Fitzpatrick.” He purposely didn’t give his last name. Some women saw money bags when they heard the Kavanagh name. Frankly, he’d grown tired of it.

  He drove the horses as slow as possible and avoided ruts and rocks, anything that would rock the wagon. He sure didn’t recognize her. What the devil had happened to her? Why was she in the middle of the road? Who’d hurt her and why? Tarnation, he hated unanswered questions.

  He pulled up in front of the house. “Hey! I need help out here!”

  Teagan, Quinn, and Brogan tumbled through the front door.

  “What happened?” Teagan asked.

  “Did you run her over?” Quinn questioned.

  Dolly, the Kavanagh’s housekeeper, burst from the house and ran to the wagon. A cry of alarm escaped her lips as she pulled the tailgate down. “When it rains it pours. Sheila is having her baby, and Clarissa is having pains.” She shook her head. “Too early for Clarissa and Donnell.”

  “Where should I put her?” Fitzpatrick asked as he cradled the stranger’s body against his.

  “Take her to your room for now. Put fresh sheets on the bed,” Dolly instructed.

  Ciara, Brogan’s wife stepped outside with her sister, Orla. “We can take care of that and see what else we can do.”

  Dolly smiled. “I need to get back to Sheila. Gemma is helping and Heaven is sitting with Clarissa. Orla, we’ll need hot water and a lot of it.” Dolly hurried inside.

  Ciara raced to open the door, her dark hair blowing in the wind. “I’ll run up before you and put clean sheets on.” She disappeared inside.

  Fitzpatrick carried the woman into the house. The more he gazed at her the more he realized she was younger than he’d thought. They went up the stairs. Ever efficient, Ciara had the bed ready. She helped him to gently place the woman on the fresh sheet.

  “As far as I can tell her head is bleeding and her skirts… well I had to cover her legs and she is badly bruised.” Fitzpatrick’s face grew uncomfortably warm as he mentioned the woman’s legs.

  Orla dropped off a basin of warm water and a few clean cloths. Without a word, she quickly left.

  “Guess she has other patients,” he quipped.

  “She loves nothing more than being useful,” said Ciara. “She’s been so happy since we found Brogan… and of course the rest of the family.”

  Fitzpatrick’s gaze drifted to the woman on the bed. Even against the white sheet, her pallor was obvious. And she had gone frighteningly still again. A frown pinched his brow.

  Ciara dipped a cloth into the water and gently cleaned the blood from her head and fac
e. “Her forehead took most of the hit. Right now, I’m not going to worry about her hair, but I do want to check her head.” She laid her hands against the stranger’s head and ran gentle fingers through her hair, pausing to smile at him when he lifted the girl so the back of her head could be examined.

  Then Ciara took a quick look under the girl’s dress and covered her again. “I’ll wait until Dolly can help me. This is something I’m not familiar with. I’d best check her ribs, though. Poor thing. It looks like she’s all over hurt.”

  “I’ll step outside.” A sense of relief stole over him that he wasn’t needed. He edged to the door.

  “No.” Ciara stopped him, holding up one hand. “If her ribs are cracked, I’ll need you to help wrap them.”

  He frowned at her. “A man could get himself at the wrong end of a rifle at the church altar being in a room with a lady showing a bit of herself.”

  “I’ll have a sheet over her, and you can turn your head. Besides, I’ll be right here. It’ll be fine.” Ciara unbuttoned the front of the dress and gently slid the top half off. She then slipped the chemise off and quickly covered the girl with a sheet. She felt along the ribs and nodded. “We need to wrap her ribs.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to hold her in a sitting position so I can wrap bandages around her.”

  He nodded and sat on the bed waiting for more instructions. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to get the bandages; I’ll be right back.”

  The woman moaned and opened her eyes. She stared at him and her eyes were full of pain and defeat. “I didn’t make it very far, did I? Was I sold to a brothel?”

  “No! Nothing like that. I’m only here to help bandage your ribs. That’s the reason your clothes are off.”

  She felt around and winced when she touched her ribs. “You’re a doctor?” Her eyes closed momentarily. Her body tensed and she screamed.

  Fitzpatrick quickly stood and backed away from her.

  A horrified gasp crossed her lips. “You bought me, didn’t you? Well, I refuse to stay!” She tried to sit up but was unsuccessful. Then she slid her feet to the floor and fell. She cried out once, and then she was quiet.

  He didn’t want to go to the other side of the bed to help her back in. She had quite the imagination, and her thoughts had taken a terrifying direction. But he couldn’t leave her on the floor. He’d just have to hurry. He bent over and lifted her, but the sheet came loose and slid down.

  Her shoulders were exposed.

  His mouth went dry.

  “Fitzpatrick what are you doing? How did she become uncovered? Oh!” Ciara pressed her lips into an angry line. “I shouldn’t have left you in here. You think everything is a game.” Shaking her head, she pulled the sheet up. “Everyone else is busy. Sit there and then sit her up and support her back and shoulders.” She caught him in a determined stare. “And look away.”

  “It’s not what you think,” he sputtered in protest.

  “It never is with you, Fitzpatrick. Well, life isn’t all about having fun. There are responsibilities too.”

  As Ciara wrapped the woman’s ribs, she groaned a few times but didn’t fight.

  Ciara bent over and peeked at the stranger’s back then gave a sigh filled with dismay. “Oh dear… Her back is black and blue. She must have been in some type of bad accident.”

  “She woke while you were gone,” Fitzpatrick said warily. “She thought she’d been sold to a brothel.”

  “What? How terrible!” Ciara sighed again then twisted her head to regard the woman, a frown creasing her forehead. “A woman’s plight is often not her own. Some man had something to do with this.”

  Dolly entered the room and put her hand on Fitzpatrick’s arm. “How is she?”

  “I’m scandalized that’s how I am,” came from the stranger. “This scoundrel was in the room with me alone doing who knows what. Where I’m from, that’s a serious matter and the next step would be to call the preacher!” Her blue eyes flashed with sparks.

  “P-preacher!” stammered Fitzpatrick. “Now wait just a minute. Noth—”

  Dolly squeezed his arm in warning. “Well, Sheila and Sullivan have a girl. They named her Lorna. Everything went well. Clarissa is still in pain. She’s on bed rest immediately, and she’ll be staying here where I can keep an eye on her.” She walked to the side of the bed and smiled. “Where are you from?” she asked gently.

  “I’m from, well of course I live…” Distress filled her eyes.

  “Maybe just your name to start?” Dolly sat on the side of the bed.

  Tears filled the woman’s eyes. “Everything is gone. It’s as though my memories were stolen. How does a person not know her name? What is this place? Some sort of hospital?”

  “No, you’re on the Kavanagh Ranch. I’m Dolly, the housekeeper. Over there is Ciara, and the man who found you in the middle of the road is Fitzpatrick.” She shot him a twinkling-eyed glance and lowered her voice. “He’s not married.”

  “Do you think I have a husband? Children? What happened to me?” She turned to Fitzpatrick. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see before I insist you marry me.” Then she shut her eyes. In moments, she was breathing evenly, apparently sleeping.

  The three of them stole out of the room. Ciara kept her hand over her mouth, holding in her laughter. “You might be caught, Fitzpatrick,” she teased once they were in the hallway.

  “I did nothing wrong.”

  Dolly smiled and said nothing as she opened the door and went into the room Clarissa was in.

  Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Whew! They’d all left. What was she supposed to do now? The tightness in her chest scared her. Reaching up she felt the bandage on her head, and then she realized her whole body hurt. She felt stiff in the middle, like she was being held down. Looking under the sheet, tears filled her eyes when she saw the cloth wrapped around her ribs and all the bruising on her torso. Then she drew her arms above the covers. What had happened to her? There didn’t seem to be many places she wasn’t bruised, and she only could see her top half.

  Panic set in. Surely the monster who did this wanted her dead. What would he do when he found out she was alive? Or maybe she was in some type of accident? A train accident or a coach going over a cliff? If it had been a man who had done this to her, surely, she’d remember.

  What was her name? Anna? No. Betty? No. Camille? She realized she was going through the alphabet and stopped. Knowing a person’s own name should be easy. What about her last name? She closed her eyes and held her breath, but nothing happened. No, no recollection of that either.

  The room was nice. The bed was comfortable. The colors of everything seemed to be a shade of brown. She was in that Fitzpatrick’s room. One of the women had told him to bring her there. But now she didn’t know whether to thank him or slap him. What kind of place was it where men would be in a room alone with a woman who only had a sheet covering parts of her? Certainly not a Christian household. She stared at her tattered dress, but it didn’t bring any memories.

  What would happen to her? She was useless. And if she couldn’t pay to stay somewhere or pull her weight, they’d probably send her on her way. Of course, she couldn’t force that man, Fitzpatrick to marry her. She might already be married. A woman would surely remember her husband, though. She closed her eyes. It hurt to think.

  Chapter Two

  Fitzpatrick saddled his bay, Poke and headed back to the place where he’d found the stranger. Maybe he could find a bag with her belongings in the area that he hadn’t spotted before in his urgency to get her help. He scanned both sides of the road but saw nothing but brush and dirt. He stopped, got down and walked. A pale square of something ground into the dust caught his attention. He bent and picked up a dirty folded piece of paper. When he opened it, he frowned. It sure didn’t say much, but it was a letter to Brenna from Aggie. No towns or family mentioned. At least he had something to bring back.

  Turning Po
ke around he headed for home. As he rode, he figured his next move. He needed to check her ring finger to see if there were signs that she’d worn a wedding ring.

  His brother Rafferty was waiting when Fitzpatrick got to the barn. He snagged the reins and nodded toward the house. “Dolly wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m not getting roped into marrying anyone,” Fitzpatrick protested.

  “I don’t think that’s why she wants to see you.”

  A sense of foreboding crept over Fitzpatrick. This entire thing would not end well for him. He had a gut feeling. As he stepped inside, the aromatic smell of coffee greeted him. Dolly had a hot cup waiting for him.

  “Come join me, please.” She studied his face. Oh no… That was a bad sign. Dolly had practically raised them when their mother died.

  He sat down and stared at the tin cup in front of him. “What is it, Dolly?” He gritted his teeth and waited.

  “Don’t act that way. I just wanted you to know I washed her hair and cleaned the rest of her. There aren’t any telltale signs that she’s ever carried a child. It didn’t look to me as though she’d been abused in that way at all either.”

  His heavy heart felt lighter. “Did you check to see if she’s worn a ring?”

  Dolly smiled. “We think alike. No marking I can see, but you know, some can’t afford a ring. Tell me, did you find anything?”

  “An old letter to Brenna from Aggie. Aggie can’t wait to see her.” He shrugged. “It was the only thing there. The date is from two years ago.”