Read Online Prairie Fire by Catherine Palmer - Free Book Online Page B

the mark the bullet had left remained thick and tight, his shoulder obviously was flexible. Powerful. Massive.
    “So, tell me about this Sean fellow,” Jack said. He squatted on the hay across from her and draped his arms across his knees. “Somebody back in Ireland?”
    Caitrin blinked and focused on his face. Shaggy brown hair, squared cheekbones, silver eyes. Her heartbeat faltered. “I thought—I thought you had gone away.”
    “Tomorrow. I wanted to get back in shape for the journey in case I run into trouble. Long way to Cape Girardeau. After I’m there, I’ll need to find a job. The work I do takes a good arm.” He looked her up and down. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
    “Jimmy said—”
    “The lamp. I know. I watched until he’d gone into the soddy before I lit it, but he came back out to check on Scratch—my horse. He must have seen the light while I was up in the loft. I reckoned I was done for, but he just blew out the lamp and walked away.”
    “He assumed I’d left it lit.”
    Jack nodded. “So you came out to see if that wicked, lying scoundrel was still in your storeroom.”
    “The door …” She gestured vaguely in that direction. “I needed to lock it.”
    “Figured I’d finally gone, huh?”
    “Oh, Mr. Cornwall, I must tell you how sorry I am for my harsh words,” Caitrin burst out. “You have every right to think me mouthy and stubborn, for that is exactly what I am. And even though your dear mother believes ill of the Irish, she’s no worse than my sister, Sheena, who holds a poor opinion of the Cornish—never mind how vigorously I dispute her. I should not have spoken so cruelly to you, for you are indeed precious to God and—”
    “Hold on a minute. How do you know what my mother thinks of the Irish?”
    Caitrin trembled in the cold, but she knew she must confess. “Your letter. It fell into a puddle at the mercantile, and while it dried, I read it. Not all, but some. More than I should. It was truly bad of me, and I implore your pardon. You see, when first we met and spoke here in the barn, our words together were heated and lively and full of spirit. I began to think of us as truly a pair of candles burning bright … as though we were alike in purpose and in heart. I believed we were something of a match, you and I, and a measure of my loneliness faded in the hope of a kindred soul. But then I read your letter. It was the knowledge of your beloved Lucy that provoked me so. When you spoke words of admiration for me the other evening, sure, I could only think of poor Lucy waiting for your return and the day you would make her your wife.”
    “My wife?”
    “Aye, and what you did was so like Sean O’Casey, you see. He declared his undying devotion to me, yet all the while he knew he would marry that miner’s daughter. Instead of accepting you as a man like Sean—capable of wooing one woman while another waited in assurance of marriage—I expected better somehow. I always expect the best of people, and so often I’m disappointed. But I never learn, do I? Sure, Sean spoke all manner of fine words and tender nothings until I was no better than butter in his hands. And when I heard your flattery—”
    “Did you melt?”
    She swallowed at the implication behind his question. “Your words put me in mind of Sean O’Casey and the miner’s daughter. All the while you were speaking to me, I knew about your Lucy waiting at home. Aye, but I momentarily forgot what a wicked man you are, and that is where I made my error. Rather than hear you out and forgive you as a Christian ought, I grew angry at you for toying with me while Lucy sat in expectation of becoming your wife.”
    Jack shook his head as an odd grin tilted one corner of his mouth. “Miss Murphy, you’re a wonder. A miracle. A flame-haired, green-eyed marvel.”
    Wariness stole over her. “What do you mean?”
    “You’ve forgiven me for the sin of turning you into a puddle of melted butter. And all for