Instead she wandered to the creek and then took a circuitous route to the livery, ignored by Mr. Harrison, as she was a frequent visitor. When she saw Dunmore’s horses, she felt closer to him. “Hello, my beauties,” she murmured, as she held out her hand to them to snuffle. Giggling at the tickling sensation, as they searched her hand for food, she leaned forward to reach behind one of the horse’s ears for a scratch with her free hand. “Yes, you glutton. I brought you a treat. Snuck it out of my mum’s kitchen, although I think she knows what I’m doing.”
She continued to talk with the horses. “Mum knows I was never a fan of apples, unless she baked something with ’em. Now I’ve been taking a few apples a day for you two.” She giggled as one of them gave a little whinny of delight, as though he understood her words. “Aye, you’re as smart as Dunmore said you were.”
Extracting apples from her pockets, she held one in each hand, so each horse could gobble it down at the same time. “There, my beauties,” she said, affection in her voice. “I only wish you’d been with him. You would never have failed him, as that other team did. You’d have kept him safe, wouldn’t you?”
She knew she was irrational, as this team of horses would only have seen him as far as Twenty-Eight Mile Springs, but she searched for something that could have prevented the horrible accident. Although she was coming to accept that it was an accident, with no one to blame, she had difficulty reconciling her mounting fear that she would never see Dunmore again. With an acute clarity, she understood the torment her mother and father had suffered, with their abrupt separation after Maggie had been born.
When one of the horses arched its head farther out of the stall, she rested her face against its strong neck, burying her tears in its mane. “You miss him too, don’t you?” she whispered in a broken voice. “He has to come back, doesn’t he? He’s alive, isn’t he?” She clung to the horse, as images of Dunmore overwhelmed her. She couldn’t imagine never seeing him again. Never holding him in her arms again. Never smiling at him again, as he winked at her and stared at her with pride.
The horse made another whinnying noise and raised its head, pushing Maggie away, as the horse backed up a step and stomped its foot. Maggie frowned, as Dunmore had always told her that it was this horse’s way of giving a warning or a welcome. She looked over her shoulder, stilling when she saw a man lurking in the shadows. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The man remained silent and in the shadows, nothing but his lower legs visible. Although she couldn’t see his face, she had the sense he stared at her.
Maggie suddenly wished she hadn’t ignored her father’s request that she always have a brother with her. “I’m an O’Rourke. You have no desire to anger my family.”
The man remained in shadow, although he moved incrementally closer to her. Maggie peered at him, able to make out a few details. His clothes were dirt covered and appeared near to tatters. Whatever color they had once been had long faded. He moved again, causing his long coat to swirl around him, like a cape.
That triggered a memory, and she took an involuntary step toward him. “Dunmore?” she whispered, her voice cracking, as she said his name. When the man stood stock-still, her tears leaked out. “Oh, why must you haunt me? Must you never be anything more than a ghost?” she cried out.
“Maggie.” He stepped toward her, gasping in pain, as he fell forward.
“Dunmore!” she screamed, leaping forward to hold him, falling to the ground with him in a tangle of skirts. “Oh, my precious man, you’re alive. You’ve come back to me.” She wrapped her arms around him, as he held on to her, burying his face in her neck, as he shuddered.
Pulling her even tighter to him, he shook. “You believed,” he rasped. “You never gave up hope.”
She cried against his shirt, as she peppered his chest and skin with kisses. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “I kept thinking about how Mum and Da found each other again.” She pushed back, looking into his gaze, thankful they were lying in a ray of sunshine, so she could see him fully. “You never felt dead here.” She released him for a moment to press a hand to her heart. “I couldn’t give up hope, even though the townsfolk have begun to whisper that I’m a madwoman.”
“No, never,” he said, as he pulled her tight again. “Forgive me, Maggie. For ever making you doubt.” He shivered again.
Maggie pressed him back, frowning at the deep lines of pain that had been etched on his face. His eyes were fever bright, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow. “You’re ailing,” she whispered. “Mr. Harrison!” she shrieked. “Mr. Harrison!” she yelled again, as Dunmore fainted in her arms. When the livery owner finally poked his head out of the tack room, she motioned him over.
“Never did I think to see you acting so shamefully,” he said, with a raised brow, barely sparing a glance for the insensate man tangled in her skirts. The man with long hair and unkempt beard who looked like a ruffian was below his notice.
“It’s Dunmore, you fool!” she hissed. “Go find Da and my brothers. We have to aid him.” She nodded, when he jolted at the news it was one of his best customers and a friend who rested in
