Chapter Ten

Finnegan rammed his fingers through his hair when he glanced out the window and saw that the dawn was beginning to brighten up the sky to the east. He'd spent the whole night awake and pacing.

After Cassandra had burst into his room and then fled again, Finnegan had forced the whore to leave and had tried desperately to get Cassandra to allow him into her room. His knocks had gone unanswered.

Finnegan hated himself for what he'd allowed to happen. Cassandra had clearly been given a hard time and Finnegan hadn't been there to protect her. What was wrong with him? His father had raised him a certain way and Finnegan had worked hard to be the Irishman that his father claimed all Irishman were.....

So why did he feel so damned pathetic, worthless and downright bad for what had happened last night? Hell the saloon had been Cassandra's idea! She'd seemed confident that she could handle things and had even told him to stop attempting to be a man he wasn't by trying to protect her.....Now she was angry because he had done what she'd asked him to...

Finnegan was confused. Who was he? What kind of man allowed his best friend, who happened to be a lady, to be left alone in a saloon to fend for herself? The answer to that was simple; an Irishman. His father had taught him well what an Irishman was. An Irishman loved whiskey, poker, bedding women and taking nothing seriously. He looked out for himself and himself alone. That was an Irishman. Cassandra should understand that since she had known Finnegan since just after he'd learned to walk.

Finnegan heard a knock on his door and ran to it. He jerked it open eagerly, hoping to see Cassandra standing before him only to run directly into Seamus's angry fist.

Finnegan went stumbling backward as his head exploded with pain. He felt blood pouring down his chin from his lip and as he fell down on his backside on the bed he touched his mouth gingerly to find that his lip was

already beginning to swell and it was split wide open.

"Good mornin' to ya as well, Dear Seamus."

"Don't ya 'dear Seamus' me ya worthless sack o'shit!" Seamus bellowed.

"Are ya suddenly Irish again then?" Finnegan forced himself to grin as he stood. Then he launched at his brother, tackling the other man to the ground and punching him hard in the jaw.

They rolled around in the floor a bit and then Finnegan froze at Seamus's next words, "Congratulations, Finnegan. You are finally exactly like the man you always aspired to be. Cassandra was damn near raped and brutalized but you had your whore and your whiskey so you could not have cared less. Nice way to show your best friend how much you truly don't care about her. At least now her eyes will be open to the bastard that you really are."

"She was nearly raped?" Finnegan whispered feeling an anger inside of him like he'd never felt before.... And a guilt.

His Little Cass should have never had to face something like that. Finnegan had just assumed those men had given her a hard time about leaving. He'd never once imagined they'd actually laid angry hands on her or tried to take what wasn't theirs to take. Instead of voicing any of that he shook his head. "It wasn't my fault. I'm only an Irishman." Finnegan countered as he fell away from Seamus and leaned panting against the side of the bed.

"That's horseshit and you know it," Seamus exclaimed as he shoved himself to his feet and glared down at Finnegan. "We share the same damn blood, Finnegan. You've used that as an excuse your whole life just the same as he did. When he drank and gambled away our money for the month and we ended up hungry 'I can't help it ya see cuz I'm an Irishman.' When he'd break his vows to our mother and have her in tears 'I don't mean it lassie, I'm an Irishman and cannot help meself'. Every bad thing he ever did was because he was an Irishman! That's nothing but a lie, Finnegan, and you damn well know it. I'm just as much an Irishman as you but you don't see me doing the things you do and getting in trouble. Cassandra trusted you and whether she asked for your help in keeping her safe or not you know as well as I do that any decent man, Irish or not, would have stayed there and saw that she got back safely. Your faults have nothing to do with your heritage, Finnegan. You do these things because you're an immature, childish, fool-headed jackass who doesn't care about anybody but himself."

With those parting words of insight, Seamus strode from Finnegan's room and slammed the door behind him. Finnegan leapt to his feet. There was no way the bastard was gonna leave that easily! Finnegan burst from the room and down the staircase. He managed to catch Seamus in the entryway of the ramshackle hotel.

"How did you know that Cassandra had nearly been...." Finnegan couldn't even finish the sentence. The thought of any man taking advantage of any woman was sickening but to think that someone had nearly done that to Cassandra? It was too much. "..attacked?" Finnegan finished. "Did she tell you?"

"No," Seamus shook his head and rubbed his face. His brown eyes were studying Finnegan carefully as if attempting to figure out what he was thinking. "Cassandra won't open her door and let me in this morning."

"Then how do you know what happened?" Finnegan asked with a frown.

It was Seamus' turn to shift and appear uncomfortable, "It wasn't hard. I went to the saloon this morning to question the bartender and there was a man there talking about Cassandra."

"Talking how? About how thoroughly she whooped his ass at the poker table?" Finnegan asked with pride.

"No," Seamus tone was sharp. "About how he had nearly had his way with her in the alley but she had managed to get away from him. And how he could not wait to have another chance."

"Did ya whoop him soundly then?" Finnegan demanded.

"No."

"Well why the hell not?"

"Because he had a group of men with him, Finnegan. What was I to do? Take on them all? Cassandra is okay and he did not succeed....."

"Such a brave and noble man ya are, Dear Seamus," Finnegan smiled as he put his arm around his brother's shoulders. "So quick to say such mean and hurtful words toward your own brother dearest when ye yourself are a coward which is something no man will ever utter about me."

"I'm no coward, Finnegan!"

"Sure ya are! Without your blood thirsty, dim witted men standing behind you wielding their heavy objects to bash in men's brains, you are too chicken to do much of anything."

Seamus yanked away from Finnegan and glared at him. Finnegan found this opportunity one in a million. Never before had he been the brother willing to take a stand and Seamus the one backing down. "Stop insulting me, Finnegan. What was I to do? It was four against one."

Finnegan flapped his arms like chicken wings and uttered a few clucks which had Seamus in such a temper, smoke was nearly billowing from his ears. Finnegan shook his head and patted his older brother on the cheek, "Ya were supposed to call on your Irish roots, Dear Seamus, and have yourself a nice wee brawl. About the same as I am going to have right now."

***

Seamus stood there in stunned silence as he watched Finnegan quickly stride from the hotel and turn out of sight.

Was he honestly going to go fight those men?

He was going to go fight for Cassandra's honor?

Or had he simply seen an opportunity for a brawl and taken it? It was probably the latter. Finnegan only cared about Finnegan and wouldn't risk his boyish face to angry fists just for someone else.

Then again he had seemed shocked and angered by learning that Seamus hadn't jumped in and come to blows with those men. But truly; one against four very large and angry looking men hadn't been his idea of a fair fight. He had only wanted to come get Cassandra and get her the hell out of this town and away from these people. What had Finnegan even been thinking by bringing her here?! That question was easy to answer—the man hadn't been thinking. He never did.

Just like he wasn't thinking now and was going to end up killed at the saloon.

Seamus thought of just letting him go... after all it wouldn't be any less than Finnegan deserved.... But then again the man was blood and if anyone was going to kill him it would be Seamus himself. Seamus would not allow anyone else to take that honor.

He let out a grumble, kicked the bowed floorboards (which startled the sleeping man behind the counter and caused him to snort as he came to alertness) and then ran out the door after his younger brother wondering why God cursed him with such a burden.

***

Finnegan had a smile on his face and a bounce in his step as he entered the saloon. It was quiet with only the bartender cleaning up behind the bar, a woman in a matronly dress sweeping the floor and four men with beers at a back table sitting beside a piano where a scantily dressed lady played a tune.

"Can I get me a beer then, sir?" Finnegan questioned as he sidled up to the bar.

"I suppose," the bartender grunted. "I had a few people complain that they were robbed last night," the bartender added as he wiped out a glass with a rag. "You wouldn't know anything about that would you, Irishman?"

Finnegan shook his head and his grin grew, "O'course not. Terrible thing to have happen to a man," he lied. He'd made a small fortune picking men's pockets last night. The bartender grunted again, filled the mug with beer from the tap and slid it to Finnegan without a word.

Finnegan took a drink and then stood and headed toward the back table just as Seamus came in. Finnegan waved Seamus over with a smile and then turned his attention to the four men at the table. Two were rather skinny and small, they wouldn't be much trouble. There was one that seemed tall (though he was sitting so it was impossible to judge just how tall), but he was lean and he also appeared to be hard of seeing as he squinted and felt around for things on the table—a brawl with a blind man—Finnegan had done worse things.

His eyes went to the fourth man and he knew he'd found the guilty culprit. The fourth man was huge. Tall and broad and thick with muscle. He had old scars on his face that proved in had an accident had some point in his life—he also had a welted head, a swollen nose, a black eye and a split lip. Finnegan found himself laughing.

"Hey now, what happened to your face?" Finnegan asked with a broad grin.

Four heads slowly turned his way and eight eyes—well truly six because the tall lean man seemed to think he was standing a few feet to the left—instantly locked on him, "Excuse me?" smashed face questioned between clenched teeth.

"Your face," Finnegan replied, leaning in closer to take in the damage better. Damn his little Cass packed a wallop. "It looks as if ya pissed off a wall and it simply threw itself at that nose of yours."

"You got a whole lotta nerve," the big man growled as he stood slowly.

"He was in brawl!" one of the short men threw out.

"Yeah... against seven men!" the other added.

"Giants of men!" blind man helped.

Finnegan laughed. "Holy shite! Seven giants? Ya hear that, Dear Seamus? This man fought seven giants and won—then he lost to a little lass in the alley."

The big man froze and clenched his fists, "Who are you?"

Finnegan moved a bit closer to one of the short men and shrugged, "The more important question would be who do you think ya are? Little Cass certainly taught ya a lesson or two—possibly three by the looks of that eye."

"I don't know who you two are but unless you want to be swallowing teeth I'd advise you to quit talkin' and get to leavin'."

"You heard the man, Finnegan," Seamus urged.

Finnegan grinned, "Sure, I'll leave." But not until he'd made it clear that Cassandra was off limits and touching any woman without her permission would end with more scars on his pretty face. "But first, have ya tried the beer here?" Finnegan took a swig and then held up his mug. "It's quite good."

The big man lunged for him but Finnegan sidestepped him and then brought the heavy mug down on the head of one of the short men who had been standing to come at him as well. Finnegan turned and ran into the scarred man's fist which sent him sprawling backward.

He caught himself on the edge of the piano, the woman playing it let out a cry of shock and Finnegan smiled a painful smile, winced at his welted cheek and then kissed her painted lips quickly before jumping back into the fight.

Punches were thrown, tables were smashed, chairs were broken. Finnegan and the scarred man were rolling around on the floor and Finnegan took a painful punch to the gut. He hooked his feet in the bigger man's middle and then shoved him back with all the strength he had.

The scarred man went flying backward and landed on a table, buckling the wood. The bartender was cursing and yelling threats but no one was listening.

The second short man, (the first was unconscious), came at Finnegan then and Finnegan swung out his leg successfully taking the man's legs out from underneath him and sending him crashing down on top of the scarred man.

As the two of them were busy untangling themselves Finnegan looked for Seamus and saw him against the wall being punched time after time by the blind man. Seamus was dodging some of the blows but not all of them, "Are ya havin' trouble with the vision impaired one then, Dear Seamus?" Finnegan asked with amusement as he pulled himself to his feet and delivered a sound kick to the short man's chin as the man came at him again.

The short man stood still for several moments and then swayed on his feet as his eyes rolled back before his body toppled to the floor like a felled tree—err sapling.

"How am I supposed to fight with a blind man, Finnegan?" Seamus demanded. "I can't hit him if he can't even see it coming!"

Finnegan laughed loudly when the blind man delivered a jaw cracking punch to Seamus' face, "Well ya better do something!"

Finnegan felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that big man had risen and was preparing to knock him for a loop. With wide eyed shock, Finnegan ducked down and the big man's momentum threw him off balance as his fist missed its mark. The big man went stumbling, his arms wind-milling through the air and he ran smack into the blind man, sending them both crashing into the wall.

"You're welcome, Seamus. He looked like he was getting the better of ya," Finnegan teased as he swiped a bit of blood from his lip.

"Get the hell out of here now!" the bartender bellowed as he raised a shot gun.

Finnegan and Seamus both raised their arms, "We're leavin'!" Finnegan assured him. "This is a mighty fine establishment ya have here, sir, mighty fine indeed."

Finnegan was surprised when he heard Seamus fighting back laughter.

"Just go," the bartender grumbled with exasperation. Finnegan tipped his head, grabbed the big man's beer off the table, downed it quickly and then headed out the door with Seamus following closely behind him.

"That was...." Seamus paused. "Fun," he finished with a grin.

Finnegan laughed. "Scares me greatly that you taught Little Cass how to fight! Ya couldn't even take a blind man."

Seamus glared at him, "How do you punch a man that can't see you!?"

"A mite bit easier than one that can," Finnegan informed him and then he wrapped his arm around Seamus' shoulders, "'Bout what ya said earlier, you're right. I'm just an immature jackass and I'll try my best to be better. But don't ya ever talk to me like that again. Ya can hang me, ya can chase me all over the country, but don't ya ever speak to me like that."

"I'm older than you, Finnegan. I'm allowed to speak to you however I like," Seamus countered. "Tell me the truth, did you do this for Cassandra or because you wanted to fight?"

Finnegan glanced down at his white shirt now thoroughly stained with dirt, blood and beer. He put a hand on his welted cheek and wiped a bit of blood from his nose, "I did that for Little Cass. You might not believe it but I'd die to protect that lass..." Finnegan grinned as he shrugged. "Of course gettin' to kick a little ass gets a man's blood pumpin' real fine in the mornin'. Now let's go get the woman so we can get out of here before the big man and his friends have time to recover."