Dreams Can Come True (11 page)

“We’re to go on our way now, Maggie. Isn’t that so, Lieutenant? I’ll just help the driver to reload his parcels, then we’ll be on our way m’dear.”

The soldiers saluted and rode off back towards Longford, leaving the two men to heave the trunk and parcels back on top of the carriage again. Rebel had welcomed the break from his journey, contentedly chewing on a clump of grass at the side of the road.

“A good job they didn’t climb up to have a proper look,” whispered Keva. “Or stop us before we got ter Longford. That package I delivered while yer were havin’ yer lunch had a couple of rifles in it and there’s one under the blanket destined fer a Brother in Mayo. Sure, there’s a box of ammunition too. It’s no good havin’ a rifle, if you’ve nothing in it ter fire.”

Jack’s face went crimson. Here was the man putting them all in danger, just for the sake of his bloody cause. He balled his fists, his temper matching the one before of Maggie’s.

“How dare you put us all at risk, yer bloody fool. What would have happened if the soldiers had bin more thorough? You’d have had us all hauled to a magistrate before nightfall. If it wasn’t for the sake of me family, I’d knock yer senseless. Now, drive on ter the next town or village and we’ll find someone else ter take us the rest of the way.”

Jack climbed back into the carriage beside Maggie, trembling from head to foot at the thought of what could have happened to them all. Maggie had calmed down, though looked very grim. She had heard some of what Jack had said but didn’t dare mention it, as Hannah’s eyes were full of concern. She accepted the hip flask that Jack had shakily drank from then passed on to her. The contents were fiery, but it seemed to help in calming her down.

“Papa,” Hannah began unhappily, “I wish we hadn’t come to Ireland. It’s a frightening place. I wish I was back at home.”

Maggie put her arm around her comfortingly.

“I’m sure we both agree with yer that we’d be much safer back at home. The problem is, we haven’t much in the way of choices. Though I think it would be safer, Jack, if we sail back from Sligo, rather than return overland.”

“It’s sorry that I am to have brought yer. I was taking this as a chance fer Hannah to see where we came from and do a little business along the way. Still, we can’t be very far now from Ballaghadereen, I’ve just seen some women gathering peat blocks for their fires.”

Craning their necks through the window brought them untold relief. At least this village was inhabited. Alongside the road was a fast-flowing river, and Jack swore he could see salmon leaping up the craggy rocks towards the hill side. The carriage drew up beside a row of poorly-constructed cottages, the more substantial one in the middle being the tavern, where they were to stop to rest the horse and let him drink his fill. It was time for Jack to make a decision. He disappeared with Keva, leaving Maggie and Hannah to stretch their legs by the riverside.

The mist began to lift as the two women stood by the river, and soon a spot of blue could be seen in the cloudy sky. They wandered a little, pointing excitedly if they saw a flash of silver in the frothy water, glad of their warm clothing against the morning chill.

“Hey up,” shouted Jack from the tavern entrance. “Do yer want to come in where it’s warm or drink this in the carriage?”

He was carrying two cups of tea on an old tin tray. There was no sign of Keva.

“We’ll sit in the carriage,” replied Maggie. “Here, Hannah, you go ahead with these. I want to speak to yer father.”

When Hannah was out of earshot, Maggie asked what had been going on when they had been stopped by the soldiers. It was as she had suspected. Keva had been gun running, using his passengers as a cover, and posing as a delivery man.

“So, what can we do, Jack?” asked Maggie, a little fearfully. “We’re taking a risk by travelling with him, what if some soldiers stop us again?”

“Keva says t’would be foolish to be rid of him now, though he’s mortally sorry that we got caught up with it all. We can make Foxford by nightfall, then he’ll leave us ter make our own way. We’ll find somewhere to rest fer the night, then we’ll ask around to see if anyone is travelling beyond.”

“Well, all I can say is that I’ll be glad when we manage ter get there and all of us in one piece. Why I let yer talk me into this Jack, I just don’t know. I should have been like yer mother and stayed in the country we’ve got used to. I’m beginning to think there’s no sense in looking into the past.”

The rest of the day was uneventful. The landscape became one of open moor, peat bogs and distant forest covered hills. Small streams meandered beside the roadside or loughs glistened with the rays of the afternoon sun. Except for the occasional cottage, there was no sign of habitation along their way. Maggie and Hannah dozed; they had slept fitfully the night before, not used to the proximity of sharing the double bed. Jack tried to nap; he felt exhausted. The bench that he had tried to sleep on at the tavern had been narrow and he had been wary of landing on the floor. And Keva, only a foot from him, had been open-mouthed and snoring. If Jack had been given a pillow, he would have smothered Keva, he was sure!

The carriage seemed to be slowing and, with a jolt, stopped as it had done so before. The road had become narrow, the tree branches overhanging creating a dark and sinister tunnel where no sun could be let in through the leaves. As a family the occupants groaned. What was the delay this time? Not more soldiers they hoped. Jack and Maggie exchanged glances. Would they find the guns that were hidden this time?

Keva was shouting something in Gaelic, then stopped as he was hauled from his perch above. A mighty thwack was heard and he cried out with pain. Jack flung himself out of the carriage to offer his help if he could. Maggie and Hannah hugged each other in silent fear, while Maggie fingered her rosary, surprised that she had slipped it unconsciously from around her wrist.

It seemed that Jack too had been rendered speechless, as there was no warning for the women when two dirty tattered brigands leapt in from either side, with cudgels in their hands. Hannah became hysterical, screaming for her father, while Maggie sought to bravely push them off, as the men tried to drag them from the carriage. They were hauled unmercifully to their feet then thrown into a muddy ditch, where they sat for a few minutes, stunned.

From there they could see what had happened. Both Keva and Jack were nursing sore heads, while their attackers were picking through the contents of the trunk, that they had thrown down from the roof rack above.

Keva shouted again in Gaelic, clutching his head as he spoke, but whatever he said it stopped the men from their looting and, surprised, they turned to listen to him. One of the men then pointed to above the carriage, then grabbing a still-reeling Keva, shoved him against the side of the now-trembling horse and urged him to climb back up into his seat again. That done, the men hoisted Jack to his feet, then kicked the back of his knees so he stumbled into the ditch beside his horrified wife and daughter. Two minutes later the carriage was gone, the men shouting and waving to them from their newly-acquired transport, as they went on their way triumphantly!

There was silence in the ditch until Hannah started sobbing. Jack sat in a daze and Maggie was struck dumb. All that had happened in literally minutes; was it a nightmare or a devilish dream? Wordlessly, Maggie climbed up onto the road, ruefully inspecting her now-wet gown, glad she hadn’t put her high-heeled slippers on. Then she helped Hannah. The shoulder seam had come away from the girl’s gown and the whiteness of her trembling skin showed through it. Maggie looked at the muddy contents of the trunk now strewn all over the rutted ground, as she patted and soothed Hannah, thinking of how she had packed everything so carefully. Where was she going to get them cleaned again, was all her mind could say?

“Mother,” Hannah seemed to be the first to come to her senses. “What about looking at Papa? There’s a cut on his face above his eye and he seems to have fallen asleep. What are we going to do about him? He can’t sit in the ditch for the rest of the day.”

The fear in her voice alerted Maggie from wherever her mind had taken her. She had to do something; get Jack some help from somewhere, find them all a safe place to rest their heads. She crouched down to look at her husband. He was moaning quietly and it was true; there was blood trickling down from the cut on his face.

“You must get help, Hannah. I will stay with your father, but first we must try to get him out of there and make him comfortable. Here, take my shawl and lay it over by that bush where the grass is more flattened. Then you run to the nearest village and find someone. Anyone will do, just make it quick in case your father is really ill.”

“But, Mother,” the girl protested. “We haven’t passed through a village or a hamlet as you call them for miles, nor have we seen a soul pass by for hours. I could get lost in the dark. Not find my way back, even if I do get help. Can’t you go, Mother, I’ll stay here with Papa?”

Maggie was about to say “no”, that the girl’s legs were younger than hers, but the legs that she was talking about seemed about to buckle under. Hannah’s face looked grey and it had seemed a great effort on her part to help haul Jack up from where he lay. Maggie stood up with a sigh of resignation and promised to be back as soon as she could. As she walked away, she looked back to see Hannah kneeling beside her father, cradling his head in her arms and crying over him piteously.

Maggie walked for at least twenty minutes before she came across a small slate roofed cottage. She was beginning to tire as the way had become hilly, and her breathing was laboured as she rounded a bend. With a sigh of relief she knocked on the door, hearing a dog barking from somewhere within. Hopefully the occupants would have a cart they could lend her, to bring Jack to their dwelling and let him rest for a while. A face appeared at the cottage window. An old woman’s face; she looked guardedly at Maggie then shook her head.

“Please Missis, will yer listen ter me fer a minute. Me husband is injured, he needs help.”

But the woman shook her head once more and disappeared.

Dear God, thought Maggie, as she trundled dejectedly on. What am I going to do, if no one’s willing to help me? He could take a fever lying there in all his damp clothes.

Another two cottages later and still the same response. No one was willing to open their door.

At least though, Maggie was walking into civilisation. A row of cottages and a shebeen had appeared – and was that a church in the distance? Well, something to do with religion, as the Holy Cross was up on the roof. She decided to make for the church; no man of the cloth would refuse to lend a hand.

“Can I help yer in anyway, Missis?” A small girl pulled back the grill in the heavy oak door and peered at Maggie through it. She looked anxious and a little suspicious. It was not often a fine lady travelled along that way – not that Maggie was looking like a fine lady. Her hair had come down and her face was smeared with mud, but her clothes were of the best quality. No skirt made of common drugget for her.

“Could I speak with someone in authority? It’s urgent I find help fer me husband. He’s lying in a ditch some miles away.”

“Oh, Jesus, Mary and all the Saints,” and the girl crossed herself piously. “The Sisters are all getting ready fer Vespers, but I’ll go and find someone fer yer.”

With that she shut the grill and left Maggie on the doorstep to wait impatiently. As Maggie looked around she saw then the statue of Mary, standing on a marble plinth in the small gravel garden, and realised it was a convent she had come to. Maggie had never had anything to do with nuns, though she had seen them in the town of Ballina, usually walking around in pairs.

Heavy footsteps began to sound coming towards the doorway, then the door swung open to reveal a woman dressed in black from head to foot, except for a white wimple framing her face. She looked to be in her fifties, tall and large boned. This was the person in authority that Maggie had asked for.

“I’m Mother Immaculata, in charge of the convent. Matilda said something about your husband being in a ditch somewhere.”

“Yes, Madam,” and Maggie curtsied to the woman. “We were set upon by two vagabonds and the driver of our carriage and me husband were beaten about the head. Then the men took our transport and the driver away, leaving us in a ditch beside the roadside. Me husband seems terribly injured, his eyes were closed and he has a cut above his eye.”

“And you left him like that to get help? How far away was that? There were cottages all along this way who could have given you a hand.”

“No one would help us. Oh, I’m sorry, each moment that passes means he could be in terrible danger. Will someone here help? Does anyone have a cart or something that he could be laid upon?”

“Well, of course I would like to help, dear, but we are about to start Vespers. Just a moment, I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps some of the girls from the dormitory can assist you. One or two are due out any day.”

Maggie was left on the doorstep again, to puzzle why she should be helped by girls from the dormitory. Perhaps it was a boarding school and the nuns were all teachers; perhaps some of the girls were due to leave any day. It was chilly standing there anxiously waiting, with desperate thoughts of Jack and Hannah. How much colder must it be for them?

“Hey up, Missis!”

Maggie turned to see a small wagon pulled by a brown and white pony, being driven by a plump girl in her twenties. The girl drew up in front of the convent gate and beckoned Maggie to climb aboard.

“Which way are we goin’? That way or this? The old woman said you’d been set on by the Fenians, the buggers are living up there in the hills. They’re forever robbin’ decent people. Folk round here are terrified of them, though she encourages them. Always feeding them from the back of the kitchen door. I’ll be glad when I can get back to Galway; there’s no sign of the troubles over there.”

Maggie directed the girl onto the road out of the village and soon the wagon and its occupants were bowling merrily along. Maggie learnt that the wagon was used to convey the vegetables that the Sisters grew to the market at Ballina. She also found out that Bella had been a naughty girl and had just given birth to a child.