âHow do you know my father?â Fionaâs voice sounded as raw as it felt.
âI donât. I never met him until this day, although I grew up hearing tales about him and my father. And I know who you are, Fiona OâRourke.â
A terrible roaring filled her ears, louder than the blizzardâs wail, louder than any sound she had ever known. The force of it trembled through her, and she felt as if a lasso were tightening around her neck. Her dreams cracked apart like breaking ice. âY-you know me?â
âAye.â Gently came that single word.
âBut how? Unless you areââ Her tongue froze, her mind rolled around uselessly because she knew exactly who he was. For she had grown up hearing those same tales of her da and another man, the man whose son now towered before her. âNo, it canât be.â
âIan McPherson. Your betrothed.â
Angel County, Montana Territory,
December 1883
âMa, when is Da coming back from town?â Fiona OâRourke threw open the kitchen door, shivering beneath the lean-toâs roof. Please, she prayed, let him be gone a long time.
A pot clanged as if in answer. âSoon. And just why are you askinâ?â
âUh, I was just wondering, Ma.â Soon. That was not the answer she had been hoping for. Her stomach tightened with nerves as she set down the milk pail and backed out the door. She wanted to hear that Da had gone to his favorite saloon in town for the afternoon, which would give her plenty of time to fix the problem before her father returned.
âYou are still in your barn boots?â Ma turned from the stove in a swirl of faded calico. âTell me why you are not ready to help with the kitchen work? What is taking you so long outside today?â
The word lazy was not there, but the intonation of it was strong in her motherâs fading brogue. Fiona winced, although she was used to it. Life was not pleasant in the OâRourke household. Love was absent. She did not know if happiness and love actually existed in the world. But she did know that if her father discovered the horse was missing, she would pay dearly for it. She had school to think ofâfive full months before she would graduate. If she was punished, then she might not be able to go to school for a few days. The thought of not seeing her friends, the friends who understood her, hurt fiercely and more than any punishment could.
âI will work harder, Ma. Iâll be back soon.â She scrambled through the shelter of the lean-to. Wood splinters and bark shavings crackled beneath her boots.
âIt will not be soon enough, girl! Iâve already started the meal, canât you see? You are worthless. I donât know if any man will have the likes of you, and your Da and I will be stuck supporting you forever.â A pot lid slammed down with a ringing iron clang. Unforgiving and strict, Ma turned from the stove, weary in her worn-thin dress and apron. She raised the spatula, clutching it in one hand. âWhen your Da comes home, he will expect the barn work to be done or else.â
It was the âor elseâ that put fear into her and she dashed full speed past the strap hanging on a nail on the lean-to wall and into the icy blast of the north wind. Outside, tiny, airy snowflakes danced like music. She did not take the time to watch their beauty or breathe in their wintry, pure scent as she plunged down the steps into the deep snow. She hitched her skirts to her knees and kept going. The cold air burned her throat and lungs as she climbed over the broken board of the fence and into the fallow fields. Snow draped like a pristine silk blanket over the rise and fall of the prairie, and she scanned the still, unbroken whiteness for a big bay horse.
Nothing. How far could he have gone? He had not been loose for long, yet he was not within sight. Where could he be? He might have headed in any direction. Thinking of that strap on the wall, Fiona whirled, searching in the snow for telltale tracks. The toot, too-oot of the Northern Pacific echoed behind her, a lone, plaintive noise in the vast prairie stillness, as if to remind her of her plans. One day she would be a passenger on those polished cars. One day, when she had saved enough and was finished with school, she would calmly buy a ticket, climb aboard and ride away, leaving this great unhappy life behind.