Rescuing Mr. Gracey (46 page)

“What is your name, little one?”

“Beth…O’Malley, sir,” the small girl replied as she rubbed her eyes and stumbled beside him in her bare feet. Scooping the child into his arms, he wrapped her ragged dress with his jacket. She yawned. Beautiful huge eyes gazed at him, and then she smiled, tiny dimples appearing on her cheeks.

A terrible spasm traversed his chest. So like Mary, he thought as the little girl heaved a tired sigh and stuck a dirty thumb in her mouth. Alec held the tiny girl closer.
Mary’s daughter would likely look like this little girl.
His throat bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow grief and loneliness. Wiping moisture from his eyes, he scanned the area for anyone familiar, but it was difficult to see in the dark.

He did notice that the villagers started to organize, some putting out fires, others tending to the wounded. Some carried the dead Ribbonmen into one area for identification.

“Excuse me, Father Morgan,” Alec said to a harried-looking elderly man dressed in a long, black dress-like outfit. “Can you tell me anything about the family of Beth O’Malley?”

The priest skimmed Alec, his eyes narrowing for a moment.
He recognizes me,
Alec thought.
He will rebuff me now
.
Instead, the priest peeked at the now-sleeping girl on Alec’s shoulder. “Well, let me see… I believe Luke O’Malley is tryin’ to repair his house.” The wise-looking man lifted a brow at Alec as if waiting for his response.

“I suppose he has been too busy to see to his daughter.”

“I suppose ya may be right about that,” the priest replied. “He’s recently widowed and tends to forget he’s no wife to watch his little one. Ya’ll find him just down the road about three hundred paces.”

Hesitantly, Alec flicked a glance at the long road ahead before returning his attention to Father Morgan. He wanted the old priest to take the girl. He wanted to walk away from all this pain, this guilt, this loss. He wanted to sleep forever and then run far, far away.

The old man patted Alec’s back as if reading his thoughts, then pointed once more toward the home of Luke O’Malley. Plodding toward a purpose, Alec tried to keep his thoughts clear, his heart detached. Yet, everywhere, widows and children were crying, praying, moaning.

His people committed this sin, the battle so unevenly matched—weapons, manpower, even militia, gave advantage to the Orangemen. Alec vowed to take the incident to the highest authorities. He would see Roden suffer for this. He would see Bender dead or in a deep, deep prison.

And then he would go to Dublin.

Finally, he came upon a man, late twenties, patched clothing and dark hair, standing on a chair and struggling to pour dirt on the smoldering thatched roof. With no ladder, his balance teetered with his wobbly weight.

“Excuse me, sir.” The man jerked his head toward Alec, his brows deeply etched with frustration. “Are you Luke O’Malley?”

“Aye.” Suddenly, O’Malley grimaced. “Oh, saints preserve us. I forgot about poor Beth.” The man jumped from his chair and wiped his soot-covered face with his shirt. He looked exhausted. “Tryin’ to save me home. ’Tis all me and Beth have left.”

Alec scanned the smoky remains of the man’s ruined crops. Shame, deep and unforgiving, hammered his heart. “May I lend a hand? I have this horse that may help pull down some of the smoldering damage.”

The man looked him over and nodded. “Be grateful for the assistance, sir.”

Stretching out his hand, he said, “Alec Gracey.”

O’Malley hesitated. A fluid confusion marred his expression, then his jaw tightened.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Alec offered.

“I’m thinkin’ ’tis a strange moment, sir.” O’Malley’s face gentled. His gaze touched his sleeping daughter. “Yar name marks ya as the very enemy what took me field, yet now ya offer me help.” Lifting his head heavenward, he exhaled a short laugh. “Well, it appears the Lord is playin’ with me anger and forcin’ me to forgive.” He shrugged and took Alec’s extended hand. “Grateful for help, sir.”

Alec and Luke worked for hours pulling smoldering thatch and pouring water on hot spots while Beth peacefully slept on Alec’s coat. By early dawn, the roof had been repaired sufficiently to lift her weary body into her bed.

By the time Alec headed home a second time, his body ached and his head pounded with exhaustion. He was literally too tired to dwell on the loss of Mary.

“Sir…please…”

What now?
Irritated, Alec scowled when he turned toward the voice. The girl, perhaps ten years of age, hesitated. “What is it, little one?”

“Me da, sir. He’s been taken, and Father Mooney says mayhap ye could help.”

Father Mooney. Clever priest. Knew I wouldn’t deny this girl no matter how exhausted I am.
Alec closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. “What do you know?”

“They took him and a lot more of me neighbors, the soldiers did. They came to the house, they did. And they dragged me da away.” She began crying, muddy paths streaking her face. “I’ve no mother and three more at home, sir. We’ve no food, and me da’s been taken.”

“Go home and stay with your siblings. Food will arrive shortly.”

Her eyes brightened as she bobbed her head and curtseyed. “The good Father said ye would help, sir, even if ya was a Gracey. And he says t’ tell ya that they have the Smyths as well.”

His slumped body came fully awake.
Mary.
Truthfully, all night, no Smyths seemed to be about. Had the earl arrested all of them?

Without taking the time to acknowledge the girl, Alec galloped Ringo toward his manor. His father still had authority in this town, even if Alec had burned his. Leaving Ringo with a groom, Alec stormed through the manor doors and bellowed for his father. Gracey met him on the stairway, disheveled and alarmed. “Son, what the devil happened? Look at your hands. They’re all blistered and…”

“They may have Mary.” Alec heaved for air. The thought of her, already weakened by the attack, stuffed inside a room, perhaps being interrogated, perhaps tortured, almost brought him to his knees. “They’ve arrested the Smyths.”

Gracey’s mouth twisted into a deep scowl. With a decisive nod, he headed toward his bedroom. “Ya best get cleaned up while I get dressed,” he called.

Alec stripped off his filthy shirt before he arrived at his room. His mother tapped on his door just as he finished rinsing soot from his face and hair.

“Oh, Alec. Oh my. Look at your hands. Your beautiful hands are all scarred with burns.”

“Mother, I don’t have time…”

“Hush. Your father needs a moment to arrange a meeting. Daniel is getting the magistrate and a judge. Let me tend those…”

Alec reluctantly extended his hands while his mind flew through tasks that must be done. “Mother, you must see that food and clothes and blankets are delivered for them. The entire village has been devastated.” He gasped with the memory of the Smyth field, their home. “Destroyed,” he whispered. Shaking his head, he forced himself to keep focus. “We must send supplies immediately. They have nothing…clothes, food, medicine.”

“Dearest God in heaven.” His mother bowed her head, tears rolling from her cheeks. “What have we done?”

“Too late for regret. Now we must repent with action.”

Within a half hour, Alec stood outside a small stone building as hundreds of men, women, and even children tumbled out, squinting with the light of day.

Holding his breath, he finally saw Joseph and Patrick Smyth exit. His own father followed shortly behind. Joseph flicked a glance at Alec and smiled.

“Mary…” Alec asked, worry heavily threaded in his tone.

“She’s fine. She and her mother and brothers are with Sean.”

Alec gulped. Relief and jealousy hit him simultaneously. He looked down to recover.

Joseph stretched his hand toward the elder Gracey. “Never thought I’d see the day, but here ’tis. I am indebted to your family, Mr. Gracey. Your son is a remarkable man, and you should be proud. Thank you, sir.”

Gracey took his hand. “And I never thought to share the same space with a Smyth unless we were throwing fists at one another.” Alexander flushed before clearing his throat. “Yet here I am, thanking ya for your daughter. She saved me own son’s life and restored his heart as well.” The tall man folded his arms across his chest and rocked as if discomforted. “I also wish to extend me apologies for the violence that occurred. Though I tried to dilute the intensity, I fear I made it worse by having the soldiers come in.”

Both men stood, each appreciative of their enemy, each assessing emotions. Gracey smiled. “Your daughter taught me much, sir. Until her, I’d kept me eyes shut and let money blind me conscience. I must tell ya what a lovely daughter ya have.”

“Patrick, you’ve a job as long as I’ve a mill,” Gracey added. “I’ve much to atone for and hope you will accept my offer as a beginning.”

Alec lifted his gaze. “Thank you, Father.”

“Aye. Well, I’ve had a change in me heart about what really makes this nation ill, and I’ll not be sharin’ in its sickness, thanks to Miss Mary. I’ll be gettin’ rid of me policy against the Catholics, though that may be the end of me success in this county.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, smiling coyly. “If need be, we’ll move our business to the Americas.” He glanced at Joseph once more.

“Well, if truth were told, I’ve sheltered my own prejudices,” Joseph said, chuckling. “’Twas your son what changed my thoughts on the Anglo. Alec is one of the finest gentlemen I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. A brighter, kinder man I’ve never encountered.”

Gracey nodded proudly, then placed an approving hand upon his son’s shoulder. “Aye. In spite of me influences, the boy has grown to a noble man.” Gracey jammed his hands into his day jacket and lowered his head. “I believe we’ve both had enough confession.” He cleared his throat. “The earl wishes to buy up all of Dolly’s Brae, but I’ve a sudden wish to thwart his plan while I still have money. I’ll be purchasing your property, so you need not worry about paying the rent for a bit.”

Humbled, Alec embraced his father. “Thank you, Father. We have much to discuss.”

“Aye. Well now, I’ll be headin’ home to see about sending some food and supplies to Dolly’s Brae. I’ve a wee bit of payin’ to do for all that’s occurred. Ya may take me horse with ya, sir. Alec will see to its return in due time.” Turning, he waved and strode toward the upper level of Castlewellan.

A long pause later, Patrick whispered, “I’m wonderin’ who hit me over the head and caused all these odd dreams. Am I still in Ireland, Da?”

Both Alec and Joseph laughed, releasing tension and weary stress.

“I’m wishing to walk too,” Patrick said. “My legs are all cramped up from the night in our luxurious accommodation.” Extending a hand to Alec, he said, “I’m proud to call you my first Anglican friend.” Waving farewell, he slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned toward what remained of his home.

Joseph and Alec mounted the horses, and after a few moments of quiet companionship, Alec tentatively broached the topic on both their minds. “I cannot express how pained I am by the events of yesterday. I believed the march on Dolly’s Brae had been dismantled and that you were in no danger.”

“I know, lad. The events shall pain us both for a long stretch of time. But don’t you bear the guilt. This was not your doing.”

Swallowing the emotion that built pressure in his chest, he said, “An acquaintance of mine ruined your field. Tried to kill Mary. I will make sure he pays.”

“I’m thinking that would be wise, for ’tis my belief the man suffers from insanity.”

Alec hung his head. “If I’d never entered her life, you would not have suffered all this loss, this pain.” His restless hands clenched Ringo’s reins.

Joseph impatiently waved his hand, dismissing the previous statement. “What a lot of blarney. ’Tis our Catholic heritage. We’ve been battling the same enemy for many years, and I’m thinking we will be doing it awhile longer.” Joseph patted Alec’s shoulder. “I’m carrying my own guilt about this event. Last year, we rejoiced at humiliating the Orange and triggered the revenge this year. Could we have tried to meet with them? Could we have tried to negotiate the rules for Orange rallies?” He shrugged, his lips thinning for a moment. “Our Christian faith demands more from both sides, yet every year we do all we can to destroy the other.”

Alec looked away, heaving a shaky sigh. “Somehow, in between all that misunderstanding, Mary found me. I love her, Joseph. Yet I see what my love has done to her world…”

Joseph interrupted with a sharp grumbling sound. “Love did not do this, son. Don’t believe a bit of it. Hatred and misunderstanding and bigotry caused our loss…but love had no part in it.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. “Yet, in spite of our vengeful, bloodthirsty ways, the good Lord always has a better plan than we poor humans. See how He turned curses to blessings. Both the families, enemies by anyone’s standard, have moved from hate and resentment to understanding and compassion—all because of unlikely love between you and Mary. I’m thinking ’twas all meant to be.”

With effort, Alec whispered, “Mary wants nothing to do with me. You have no crop or income. She will be married soon and…and I cannot stay…”

Joseph inhaled and then muttered, “Aye. The field is gone, and so I’ll not be enjoying the grand plans I so very loved to nurture. Mary thinks she must marry Sean and that her love for you must never be.” Tilting his head, Joseph leaned upon his saddle and smiled. “But today is another day. Feelings change, history fades. All is new in the morning.” Pointing up the hill, he said, “Best be returning back and salvage what is left of my life. I suggest you do the same.”