Chapter Fourteen
Having an Irish Road meeting called a mere two days before the entire town was scheduled to take their harvests to the depot did not bode well. Something had to have upset a good number of people or else the gathering would have been postponed. Tavish stepped inside his parents’ home in a less-than-optimistic frame of mind.
He acknowledged his brothers-in-law with a quick nod and exchanged a questioning glance with Da. His father looked out over the gathering of men.
“Seamus,” Da said, “you had a concern to bring before everyone.”
Seamus stood. His blacksmith’s build was intimidating, even to those who knew him well. But it was the fearsome look on his face that made Tavish nervous. Seamus was fun and lively, until he was riled. The man, Tavish had heard tell, had been part of the Young Irelanders Rebellion in ’48. Seamus had, if the story was true, spent time in prison for his role in that uprising and had either been released or had escaped. There were moments when Tavish saw in Seamus’s expression just enough fury to make him believe every rumor he’d heard about Seamus’s past.
“How many of you are missing chickens?”
It would have been an odd question if Tavish himself hadn’t noticed both he and Ian were short a few laying hens. Every hand around the room was raised.
Not a good sign at all.
“That’s what we were afraid of.” Seamus frowned. “Though I’d not like to make an accusation without some proof”—Seamus had done that more than once—“this seems too big a problem to be a coincidence.”
A few noises of agreement answered that declaration. Tavish glanced at Da. He looked as uncomfortable as Tavish felt.
“I’d wager,” Seamus continued, “we’re not experiencing an early winter migration amongst our domestic fowl.”
The smiles at that were heavily tinged with uncertainty, worry even.
“It seems to me,” Seamus said, “someone’s making off with our birds.”
“The Red Road, no doubt.” Eoin O’Donaghue spoke what the rest were thinking, even Tavish.
Seamus eyed them all in turn. “It’s not been many weeks since Tavish’s horse had its tail clipped and its body bruised in the incident.”
Tavish was still angry at that, though he’d done his best to stay calm.
“Ian O’Connor couldn’t even be here with us tonight, as he’s not yet recovered enough from the Reds’ cowardly attack.” Seamus had entirely lost his light and cheery storyteller’s voice. This was as near to a call-to-arms as Tavish had heard in a few years. “Now they’re on our road at night, sneaking onto our land, making off with our animals. They’ve brought this fight to us, no matter that we’ve tried to keep the peace.”
Matthew Scott spoke up. “Just what would you have us do, Seamus? We can’t prove they’ve done anything, and even if we could, would not provoking them leave us open to far worse things than missing chickens?”
Seamus was not always the most patient of men, but he took no offense at the question. “Times are perilous. We, none of us, can deny that.”
“Certainly not,” a voice in the crowd answered cautiously.
“But how long do you imagine we have before the mercantile decides to raise prices despite Katie’s admirable efforts?” Seamus asked. “How long before the Red Road goes fully on the attack and we, as always, suffer for it?”
Worry etched into every face. Tavish knew what they were feeling. He’d felt it himself for weeks. Trouble was brewing again, and they all knew far too well what came next.
“Do you think they’ll make more mischief before the harvest exodus?” Matthew asked.
Seamus gave a firm nod.
Tavish offered a slightly different opinion. “Bear in mind, the lot of them are getting ready to sell their grain just like we are. The workload this next week will be too great for much troublemaking.”
Eyes slid in Da’s direction. He’d often been looked to as a voice of wisdom. Too bad Seamus so often undermined that with his relentless determination to rush into a fight with shillelaghs flying.
“This won’t come to a head before the harvest run,” Da said. “But neither do I think we’ll have uninterrupted peace and quiet until then. I’d advise watchfulness and great care. Keep an eye out for one another, but keep peaceable and calm. This feud will still be here when we all return.”
“And what of the womenfolk?” Seamus shot back. “They’ll be here without their husbands and fathers.”
“Admit it, Seamus,” Tavish called out, “the women aren’t the problem in this town. If we leave them here long enough on their own, they’re likely to solve our difficulties all neat and tidy.”
The group chuckled at that. Nothing about the feud was actually so simple, but the women were by far the most peaceable group in Hope Springs, excepting perhaps the children.
The meeting dispersed with no more conclusion than that. Apparently they were all going to watch and see what happened. ’Twasn’t exactly a vote of confidence, simply resignation. The feud would flare; they all knew that much. There was simply no knowing when, nor just how hot the flames would burn.
Tavish hung back as everyone else filed out. He needed to talk to Da.
“I’ve not seen Ian today,” Tavish said when the room was empty again. “How is he?”
“Better a bit at a time. Biddy’s sinking under the weight of it all, but your ma means to rally a few of the Irishwomen to her cause.”
Tavish had no doubt Ma would have things firmly in hand in no time.
“I’ve a feeling,” Da said, “it’s not your brother you truly wish to inquire after.”
Nothing got past him. “I’m worried about Katie.”
“Aye, poor lass.” Da shook his head. “As if we’d not put enough weight on her shoulders, now she bears the burden of our very survival, but with no actual power to see it through.”
Poor Katie, indeed. “Johnson was vicious to her today. I was only there for a few minutes, but he had me spitting mad. Called her terrible names and spoke down to her. We cannot expect her to endure that.”
Da sat near the fire, lighting his pipe. “What else is she to do? If she quits, the prices will go up again, perhaps higher than they were.”
“If she continues as she is, they might still go up. And she’ll have suffered needlessly.” Tavish paced toward the fireplace. “I’ve tried convincing her to walk away, before things have gone too far. At this point there’d still be time to come up with a new solution.”
Da gave him a look generally reserved for Tavish’s least intelligent moments. “Dictating to a woman of her determination will get you nowhere, lad.”
“I cannot just leave her in that situation. I was there this morning, Da, and saw how he treated her. I only wish she’d told me of her idea beforehand. I might have talked some sense into her.”
“So is it concern for Katie that’s gnawing at you, son, or is it your wounded pride?”
He hadn’t thought of it that way. ’Twas likely a bit of both. He knew Katie had turned to Joseph when she first pondered the idea of selling her bread. She’d trusted Joseph with her plans and her difficulties, so why was he left out in the dark?
“Katie is an independent sort,” Da said. “Comes from being on her own for so long. And you are the rescuing sort, always looking for ways to fix people’s troubles. I’d say most times, though, a woman doesn’t need saving; she needs someone to walk at her side while she works out her own rescue.”
Tavish rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. “Now you sound like Joseph. He quite smugly told me this afternoon that I’d best leave Katie to her decisions if I knew what was best for myself and my courtship.” What right did Joseph have to comment on his and Katie’s relationship?
“I hate to say it, Tavish, but I think Joseph may have the right of it.”
That was not at all what he needed to hear. Tavish sat on a chair near his da’s. He forced himself to say out loud what he’d only permitted himself to think. “I believe Joseph may be courting her.”
“There’s no ‘may be’ about it, son. There has long been a fondness in Joseph’s eyes when he speaks of her.”
“I’ve noticed that myself.” But that hint of fondness had grown into something more of late. “I can’t like the idea of being set up to compete with Joseph Archer. He has every advantage.”
“Is that so?” Da scratched his chin and gave him a look of deepest pondering. “Here I was thinking you had the advantage of being the first to court her, of sharing a heritage with her. And I could have sworn you had always had an easy way with women, a handsome enough face to turn heads wherever you go, and a personality one can’t help but grow fond of. And, fool that I am, I believed you were the one to whom she’d first opened her past and her heart.”
“Then why is it, Da, I can’t shake off the worry that I might be losing her?”
Da’s expression turned empathetic. “Likely because you lost Bridget and you know how it feels when someone you love slips away. That’s a fear that, once learned, never entirely leaves us.”
An ache gnawed in his heart at the reminder of the tender woman Bridget Claire had been and how deeply he’d loved her. He didn’t allow himself to think of her often. Poor Bridget. She’d been so young. They both had been.
“A sweet, sweet lass,” Da said.
Tavish pushed out a deep sigh of regret. “Aye, that she was.”
“I was speaking of Katie, actually. But, yes, Bridget was a dear.” Da’s expression softened. “I will say this for you, my boy. You do know how to choose well for yourself.”
Tavish rubbed at the pulsing pain between his eyes. “How do I make certain Katie chooses me for herself?”
“There are no guarantees in love, Tavish. You be who you are, and you love her the best you can. If you’re what she needs most, she’ll choose you.”
There were no guarantees in love or in life. Tavish knew that well. But he’d learned long ago that giving up never solved anything.
Mornings came far too early during harvest. For weeks, they’d all been in the fields day after day, cutting and bundling grain, hauling it around by the wagonful, praying for the dry weather to continue. Long days of backbreaking labor, followed by minimal amounts of sleep, took its toll quickly.
Tavish hadn’t slept well that night in particular. Katie still weighed on his mind too much for rest. Though Da had insisted he need only be himself to make his case, he felt a greater urgency than that. He wanted her to see what she meant to him. He intended to purchase the lumber he needed to build a proper bedroom onto his one-room house. Katie had told him she’d always longed for a room of her own, and he meant to give her one. While he built it, he’d put more effort into turning Katie’s heart fully in his direction. Once he had that, he’d ask her to marry him.
Tavish pulled on his overcoat and stepped out into the crisp morning. He pushed open the door of his barn. He’d become quite adept over the years at hitching up his horse in the dimness of an early-morning barn. Even with questions heavy on his mind, he went through the motions with hardly a thought. He pulled the bridle off its hook and opened the stall door.
His horse was not inside. How had he not noticed that? Apparently worrying about Katie was turning him just a touch daft.
Perhaps more than a touch. Looking about, he could see his cow was gone as well. He’d not even noticed how very silent the barn was. But where had the animals gone? They weren’t wandering about. The barn door had been closed. In his experience, livestock didn’t close the door behind themselves.
He stepped outside once more, looking out over the brightening horizon. Where were his animals?
“Ériu.” His horse could generally be counted on to nicker in response to her name, provided she was near enough to hear it. There was nothing but silence.
He wandered out to the road, hoping to see some sign of his animals. Nothing. Perhaps they’d gone in search of water. He would look down at the river first, then try the lake at the back of his property. If he didn’t find them there, he had no idea where to search next. The animals had never gotten loose before, except a few weeks earlier when the Red Road cut Ériu’s tail and set her to run wild in her panic.
Tavish stopped in the middle of the road, an uneasy thought settling in his mind. His horse had never slipped out before except as part of the Red Road’s mischief, and the animal was out now. It was not at all unreasonable to wonder if the Reds were behind this as well.
As he walked down the road in the direction of the bridge, he kept an eye out in both directions. He didn’t spot his animals, but saw several of his neighbors out and about. Harvest had the entire area up early. The morning air nipped at him, even through his jacket. Soon enough he’d need his heavier coat.
He whistled “When a Man’s in Love” as he walked along. ’Twas the song most often in his head of late.
“You’ve a fine whistle, Tavish O’Connor.”
The sound of Katie’s voice floating on the brisk dawn air tugged him in all different directions. She was up early, likely on her way to the mercantile. She began her hours there before the shop even opened. Perhaps he could walk with her.
She kept to her spot as he approached, watching him with that half-smile of hers that always made him ponder just what it would take to bring it fully into blossom.
“You look cold, Sweet Katie,” he said as he came closer.
“The mornings here in this town of yours are right frigid, I’m discovering.”
“Oh, darling.” He shook his head, trying not to laugh. “We’ve not even reached autumn.”
Dread filled her expression. “I don’t like to be cold.” She shuddered as if an arctic wind were beating against her.
Tavish simply pulled her into his warming embrace. Saints, she was cold to the touch.
“How long have you been standing out here, love?” He rubbed her arms and back, hoping to drive away some of the chill.
“Mr. O’Donaghue’s trying to find his horses and cow. I’ve been looking about Granny’s place for them.”
He set her away from him enough to look her in the face, while still rubbing her cold arms. “O’Donaghue’s animals have gone missing too?”
“Too? Are you missing animals? I mean other than all the chickens that disappeared a few days back.”
Tavish nodded. “And I suspect O’Donaghue and I aren’t the only ones.”
“This is Red Road mischief, then?”
“As always. I think I’d best check at Ciara and Keefe’s.” He motioned his head in the direction of his sister’s home. “D’you want to walk up with me?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Certainly.”
He wrapped an arm about her waist. Heavens, she felt good right there beside him. The distance he’d worried was growing between them felt far narrower just then.
“Biddy tells me you’ll be gone for a full month making your deliveries.” She leaned a bit against him as they walked.
“Aye.” He’d never before dreaded making his deliveries. In the past he’d found the endeavor rewarding, the fulfillment of all his work and planning. But, one day out from his annual trip, the miles ahead of him felt long and lonely. “Of course, if the entire Irish Road spends the day trying to find our animals instead of finishing the last of our preparations for the journey, we may not be leaving in the morning after all.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
He’d be willing to wager every cent he’d make on that year’s crop that the Red Road had most certainly “thought of that.”
“My guess is whoever took it upon themselves to sneak about our barns and let the animals out did so late into the night. The animals could have been wandering for hours. It’s possible some of them won’t ever be found.”
“What a terrible thing to do.”
The Reds had done it before. Ian had lost a fine milk cow a few winters back. ’Twas a hard thing for a family with wee ones to be without milk all winter, but there hadn’t been time to replace the animal before the snows had come.
“Every man, woman, and child down the Irish Road’ll be wearing their shoes thin today rounding up animals.” Tavish shook his head in frustration. “An entire day’s work lost, most likely. And the Reds’ll be preparing for their journey completely at their leisure.”
They’d reached Ciara’s house. Keefe stood at the barn doors, hat in his hands, a look of boiling anger on his face.
“Yours as well?” Keefe asked.
Tavish gave a quick nod.
Keefe slapped his hat against his thigh, muttering a few words in Gaelic that would have earned Tavish a lashing from Da when he was younger.
“How well do you remember your Gaelic, Katie?” Tavish asked.
In perfect, almost poetic Irish, Katie told him she remembered quite well.
To hear the old tongue in her dear voice brought such a flood of memory. He missed home in that moment. “When I get back from the harvest run, I think we should have an Irish Day.”
He loved that she looked curious. “What is an Irish Day?”
“I am so pleased you asked. We’ll spend a day being as Irish as the two of us can manage. Irish food. Irish tunes. And speaking only the proud and beautiful Irish language.”
She smiled. “I left Ireland only two years ago, Tavish, and I served on a very Irish staff there. I spoke Gaelic every day until I came to America. I’m not sure your Irish is up to the challenge.”
Even if he made a fool of himself, he’d enjoy that day. “I look forward to finding out.”
“Perhaps for now we should look about for some missing animals,” Katie reminded him.
Yes. The matter at hand. To his brother-in-law, he said, “We’re likely looking for Ian’s animals as well as our own.”
Keefe stuffed his hat on his head. “I’ll follow the river north. The two of you can follow it south.”
A good plan. Tavish turned about, intending to make his way to the bridge to begin the search. Katie kept up with his quick pace without speaking a word.
They reached the bridge. Tavish turned south. Katie caught his arm.
“I can’t stay and help,” she said. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m nearly late as it is.”
“I hate that you work for Johnson, Katie.”
She gave him such a look. “Do not scold me, Tavish.”
“I wasn’t scolding.” He squeezed her hand. “I only worry, is all.”
“No one will starve this winter, Tavish. That is the most important thing. No one will be hungry.”
He cupped his hand under her chin. “You are a good woman, Katie Macauley.”
She blushed a little, smiled a little. “Thank you.”
Thank you. Leave it to Katie to thank him for simply telling her the truth.
“I do need to go.” She at least looked reluctant. “No use giving Mr. Johnson a real reason to fire me.” Her eyes darted between Tavish and the bridge and the Irish Road stretching out long and far. “I wish I could stay here instead.”
“I wish you could as well.” For quite a few reasons. Staying meant she would avoid Mr. Johnson’s poisonous barbs. Staying meant they’d have time together. He summoned a smile, not wanting her to leave thinking he was put out with her. “Go quickly so you’re not late.”
Katie slipped away before he could say anything else. He stood on the spot where she’d left him, watching her go. Katie paused halfway over the bridge, turning back to wave at him.
He gave her a wave and smile in return. She wrapped her shawl more closely around her shoulders.
I should have given her my jacket to wear. Next time.
Just the thought of “next time” brought a smile to his face. The few moments they’d spent together that morning had returned the smile to her face and restored a connection between them that he had feared was slipping away.