Fields of Fire (26 page)

Abruptly, he rose from his chair. “Aye. Let’s prepare for the coast at once. It will be slower going, since we’ll have to transport the casks by wagon from town to town.” For her benefit, he reviewed their plan. “We’ll peddle our whiskey for considerably less. Having the goods at hand will keep the proprietors from asking too many questions, or reconsidering the purchase. Donnegan may be smuggling whiskey from the country, but I’m confident that he wouldn’t miss the chance to dispose of his merchandise to numerous taverns as well. Once he hears about his new competitors, his men should be seeking us out. In less than a week, this entire matter should be settled.”

“But we don’t have any casks readily available,” Hug reminded him.

“We’ll go back to Sligo first.”

“What do you have in mind, Captain?” Frowning, she stood. Surely, he did not plan to use the confiscated shipment of casks with the Blackwater Distillery markings.

“Don’t get your petticoats in a twist,” Taylor answered like he had read her mind. “I told you, if we used your casks, we’d destroy the markings.”

“My petticoats are not twisted, and don’t call them my casks. I told you, the markings were either forged or the barrels were stolen.” James may have been involved some way, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit it to him, nor remind him. “I simply wanted the assurance that none of the tavern owners would associate the whiskey with Blackwater.”

“You have it. Now go ready yourself while Hug and I see to a wagon and some workhorses.”

The man was like a chameleon with his moods, she thought, stepping from the table when he spoke again.

“And Jalene, you’ve only experienced a sampling of what takes place in taverns. I’m not trying to frighten you, but besides the dangerous situation to come with Donnegan, some of the men we’ll encounter could get aggressive in their rowdiness. Are you still up to it?”

Was he actually concerned for her safety, or was he now wondering if her presence might be detrimental? “Aye. I haven’t changed my mind, nor will I be a hindrance to the plan. I’ll gather my belongings and meet you outside.” She retreated to her bedchamber, dreading the long rough journey ahead and hoping she hadn’t spoken too quickly or foolishly.

* * * *

It was early morning of the following day when Taylor finally brought the wagon to a halt in front of a weather-beaten frame structure along the quay. According to Hug, the casks were being held there until further instruction, rather than being hauled to Dublin as was usual. She watched the two jump to the ground.

“With the help of the guards, it will take only a short time to load the casks, and we’ll depart,” Taylor told her.

“What makes you think they’ll hand over the goods so readily? You and Hug don’t look like revenue agents,” she said from where she sat atop the open wagon, indicating his disguise.

“We carry papers, official documents, but not on our person,” Hug told her.

“Aye,” Taylor added, “One reason it took so long for you and me to be released from gaol, was that my papers weren’t on me.”

“Here I thought you’d both charm your way into taking the casks.” She was teasing, but part of her believed they could have persuaded the guards.

“Madam, I have never charmed a man,” Taylor roguishly informed her.

“Nor I,” Hug said, just as playfully.

“And, I think Hug will agree with me when I say, we’re not about to start now.” He saluted Hug who returned the salute, and the two marched off.

She laughed and watched after them until they disappeared through a narrow entryway. Resting her back against the rough wood, she turned her thoughts to the previous day’s tiring journey. It had been almost midnight when they at last arrived in Sligo. Eight hours of arduous travel had wearied all three—so much so that they unanimously agreed to skip any late-night meal, and to retire immediately.

Now, after a good night’s rest and a simple, but generous breakfast of plain brown bread and roasted eggs, she was prepared for the day ahead. The sun appeared over the horizon, and the few scattered clouds, high in the sky, guaranteed a rain-free trip for at least the morning hours.

A huge double door swung open and caught her attention. Taylor and Hug, along with two guards, started loading the back of the wagon. When the last cask was set in place, she spoke to Taylor as he paused to study the load. “My father used to call these small casks ‘back-breakers.’ ”

“He was right. They look like they weigh much less than they actually do.”

“Aye. My father said that many a man who was not used to lifting the weight injured his back.” She sat sideways in the wagon to study the fifteen or so barrels behind her.

“I was hoping the shipment would consist of these ‘back-breakers’ as your father so aptly put it. I doubt Hug and I could carry the larger size alone, and that would have been a big inconvenience.”

“When are you going to destroy Blackwater’s markings?” she asked, anxious for the deed to be done.

“We’ll leave the casks as they are until right before we hand over the goods.” He began to walk away.

She stared at the goods stacked as long and as deep as the wagon. “But surely we’re not going to travel with the casks openly displayed.”

“Nay. We’ll scatter straw over the load. If our concealed cargo raises suspicions, and we’re stopped by any other revenue agents or the authorities—I have the proper documentation.” He tucked a few loose strands of his dark blond hair back beneath his black wig. “The documentation won’t help us though if highwaymen…”

“You mean we could get robbed?”

“Exactly, my dear. This is a real problem to all legitimate shippers. We don’t need to advertise what we’re really carrying. Don’t tell me you’ve never considered it.”

She wasn’t going to admit that she honestly had never thought about it. Sure, she knew there was always the possibility of being robbed by pickpockets in Dublin or stopped by thieves when traveling the desolate country roads. She was aware that smuggling took place, but somehow it never pertained to them. Her world before her parents’ deaths had been all safe.

Her father and James had always handled shipping. She saw the wagons haul the whiskey away and return empty. Perhaps they never had any problems, or if so, hadn’t mentioned them so as not to worry her or her mother.

She must have looked overly distraught for Taylor said, “It doesn’t sound very comforting, but don’t worry. If we are approached, we’ll simply turn over our goods. It’s not worth risking any unnecessary harm to ourselves.”

“Aye, and keep in mind that the highwaymen don’t know if we’re armed or not either,” Hug tried to encourage her. “They’re more apt to take a risk when they know what’s being hauled.” Both took a seat on either side of her atop the wagon, and Taylor urged the horses to a start.

* * * *

Numerous hours and town taverns later, the threesome had weaved a weary trail some twenty miles long, but only a mere ten miles to the north of Sligo. Jalene was pleased that their dealings that day had gone smoothly.

They had cheerfully entered each tavern and taken a seat or stood nearest to other patrons. Even during their stops in the morning hours, men could be found patronizing the establishments. With people anxious to hear any sort of news from anywhere, a conversation with them almost immediately ensued. Suggestive comments were often tossed at her, and the shamrock patch on her cheek proved to be a great source of joking and entertainment. Taylor told her it was best to laugh along with them. But he apologized for the occasions when he grabbed her breasts for the benefit of the patrons. She wasn’t going to let him know that the times he kissed her to keep up appearances had pleasured her immensely. Part of her wished he had meant them.

After the men had become quite friendly and talkative, Hug or Taylor would order a round of drinks for everyone. This was always greeted with applause and put them in even better favor. It was strange at first for her to sit in a tavern amid a table full of men, listening to their conversation. However, at each new establishment, she became more accustomed to it. At the right moment and with the mood set, Taylor would call the proprietor aside and ask him if he was interested in purchasing good whiskey for considerably less than market.

As Taylor predicted, each proprietor acted as expected, by asking him if the goods were stolen. He’d answer nay, and they’d agree to purchase. When she had asked Taylor what would happen if he told the proprietor that the whiskey was stolen, he explained that no one would ever admit to it. It was simply a formality for the purchaser’s sake so he could say he bought legally. Anyone caught and proven to have knowingly purchased illegal goods could be arrested, and according to Taylor, some proprietors took more chances than others. She knew Taylor had to overlook this aspect, because their mission was not to trick or destroy tavern owners and legitimate businesses— only to stop those guilty of smuggling.

Shortly after these formalities, Hug or Taylor would go outdoors to the wagon, dig underneath the straw for a cask, and with a knife shave off the Blackwater Distillery markings before handing over the whiskey.

Taylor’s parting words to the proprietor would be “’Tis grand doing business with you,’ accompanied with a pronouncement as to the trio’s next destination.

The only failings to an otherwise successful day were that no one had seen anyone fitting the description of Donnegan. And by the end of the day Hug was acting like a little mother and begrudged Taylor’s pawing Jalene. She finally had to insist that she’d understood Taylor’s reasoning and wasn’t offended. Taylor had been keeping in character. It was all part of the performance.

Now, in the dark of night as they approached their final destination, she wondered if she should ask to speak with Hug in private. She desperately needed to tell him her feelings. She didn’t want to cause an old friendship to turn sour. Another day like today might just do it.

The structures of a tiny seaside town suddenly appeared before them. After a few moments she asked neither Taylor or Hug in particular, “How do you know there’s an inn here? From what I’ve seen, all these small towns always have a tavern, but very few have accommodations.”

“Knights’ Head is not far from here,” Taylor said, “so I’m familiar with this area. Tweed’s has rooms.”

“And nice ones,” Hug added. “You’ll be surprised. It’s the only place from here to Dublin that caters to the weary traveler.”

“We’ll get you settled first, then see about the horses and casks. We’ve peddled half our goods, but I hadn’t expected otherwise.” He brought the wagon to a halt in front of Tweed’s. “A man would have to be an idiot to decline to purchase at the prices we’ve offered.”

He helped her down and at the same time told Hug, “Wait out here. I’ll get us checked in and we can both see about securing the wagon for the night.”

She was thankful that Hug hadn’t argued with him about coming inside too. Once she passed the entryway all thoughts concerning that problem fled. Unlike the other inns, this one was brightly lit and sparkling clean. Several feet away a staircase stood before them. To the right of the passageway from where they stood were sofas and chairs arranged around a fireplace. Two corners of the room were arranged for card playing or board games. On the left of the passageway, was a small library, and sectioned off from it were prettily set tables for dining.

“Come,” Taylor said, after securing rooms.

As she followed, she noticed the disapproving frown on the innkeeper’s face. “I don’t think the innkeeper likes my being here.”

“He doesn’t, but I assured him, we’d keep you from sight. This is one of the few places respectable ladies can spend the night without being harassed. Sort of like the Eye of the Swan where you stayed in Dublin.”

She nodded to show she understood, but never had she felt so discriminated against and unwanted. The innkeeper needn’t worry about her making her presence known.

Once in their room, Taylor said, “Rest awhile,” and walked over to light a candle on a table near the lone window in the room. “When I return, we’ll eat. Don’t open the door to anyone. I don’t care if they say they’re King George himself.” He tossed her satchel on one bed, his baggage on the other, and left.

Hug hadn’t exaggerated when he said Tweed’s had nice rooms. Excluding Taylor’s mother’s beautifully decorated guest bedchamber, this was the first room since ‘The Eye’ that was tastefully adorned for comfort. Both beds contained pillows and fluffy comforters that matched the drapery. An uncracked chamber pot was tucked away under each bed and a carpet covered the floor. Several paintings depicting the countryside in different seasons hung on the walls above each bed.

A warm, tired feeling passed over her. They’d survived the day without encountering any highwaymen and sold half of the casks. At last she could rest in real comfort. She removed her shawl and shoes and immediately lay down. The candle was a stub, but she was certain Taylor would return before it burned out. Secure in this knowledge, she closed her eyes to rest them for a moment.

From the far corners of her mind, she heard a knocking sound. Go away, she mentally urged it and covered her head with her arms. The knocking persisted, causing her to sit up in bed to a dark room. She glanced at the door to the stream of light filtering underneath. “Who’s there?”

The knocking ceased and a voice on the other side of the door said, “I saw you come inside, and you smiled at me. I’ll show you a real good time. Name your price.”

She didn’t recall smiling at anyone except a fat man who was sharing his meal at one of the pretty tables with a small, white-haired dog who was equally as fat as he. The thought of the blubbery man coming near her filled her with disgust. “Go away. I meant nothing by it. I’m a respectable woman.” She waited for the man’s response from the other side of the door. Instead, she heard muffled voices.

A short period of silence followed before she heard the door handle turn. She jumped off the bed, wondering if Taylor had left the key in the door expecting her to lock it after him, or if he had done so himself. Fool, she whispered to herself. Now was not the time to be considering such matters. Before she could find out, the door swung open, and she squeaked at the intruder, “Go away or I’ll scream.”