Fields of Fire (33 page)

“Well let’s get on with this so we can be gone all the sooner—that is, if this is in fact the place of operation.” He reached for Jalene’s hand and led the way.

The path wound downhill and became cooler as they descended. As they walked, it crossed his mind—especially after being so rudely treated—that his plans had somehow already gone astray. Nay, he thought. There’s no reason for Donnegan to be suspicious. Yet, the man had been much too agreeable. It had been too easy to obtain an invitation to his place of operation. If Nelly— not Jalene—had suggested they all retreat to Donnegan’s establishment this foreboding might not have been as strong. He shrugged such thoughts aside. Why imagine the worst? Better to react as the situation unfolded.

Finally, an array of bright lights glowed in the distance.

“I don’t like it in here,” Jalene said again, “I feel smothered by the darkness and closeness of our surroundings. We’re underground. It’s not normal.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll leave as soon as we can. Promise.”

They continued onward until they reached the source of light and stepped into a huge chamber and another world. He would never have believed he was in a cavern. If he hadn’t known it was 1770, he would have thought he was standing in a banquet hall during the Middle Ages.

Before them on a cave wall, semicircular in shape, hung a huge tapestry. On either side of the tapestry hung elaborate pewter sconces and Knights’ shields, all strategically placed. A banquet table, surrounded by ornately carved high-back chairs, sat in the center of the room.

He watched Jalene gawk at the sight before them. It was a few seconds before she found her voice. “It’s like being transported back in time.”

“I take it you approve,” Donnegan said as he wobbled on his cane through the entryway of a smaller chamber off to the side. Nelly strutted prettily behind him.

“Aye,” Taylor and Jalene said in unison and smiled at each other.

“That tapestry,” Donnegan pointed at the wall before them, “came from Paris and is about fifty years old. I’ve always enjoyed the hunt and found this scene intriguing.”

The scene on the tapestry depicted several hounds attacking a pheasant while the dogs’ masters, still sitting upon their horses, looked on in pleasure. Behind the horsemen in the forest were several other pheasants hidden in the underbrush. How typical of Donnegan, Taylor concluded. The scene disgusted him. He didn’t believe in killing for sport.

“This scene used to make me sick, but over time I’ve come to appreciate the artistic quality Cory has always talked about.” Nelly stared up at the tapestry in almost a loving manner.

Donnegan first gazed at Nelly and next up at the tapestry. His face took on the same expression as hers.

It was apparent to Taylor that Nelly’s views and ideas, had probably changed once she met Donnegan. No woman of his acquaintance would have found the tapestry appealing.

“What do you think, my dear?” Donnegan asked Jalene.

If Jalene found the scene appalling, she concealed her feelings remarkably well. She stood ramrod straight with her one hand clasped over the other on the amber ring.

“I’m hardly an authority on the aesthetic value of a tapestry, painting, or any other object of art,” Jalene answered. “It’s unique, but hardly why you brought us here.”

“Aye,” said Taylor, silently admiring the skillful way in which Jalene avoided directly answering Donnegan’s question. “You said you made your own whiskey, yet I see no evidence of a distillery here.”

Donnegan gave him a wicked grin and said proudly, “Ach, but you are wrong. It is produced here. That’s the beauty of it. No one would ever suspect or search for an illegal distillery in a cave, especially in a cave not known to exist.”

“Come with me,” Donnegan ordered. “You’re about to tour the only underground distillery in all of Ireland, or any country for that matter.”

Taylor noticed that Jalene’s complexion paled considerably, and that she shivered at Donnegan’s words. Instantly, he grabbed her and secured her tightly in his embrace. “Have you ever made love in a cave, sweetness?” He spoke loud enough for Donnegan and Nelly to hear, then whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry. This is almost over. Just play along.”

Playfully, she shoved him from her, “Ach, go on-making love in a cave—you know I haven’t, but stop this nonsense. We’re keeping our host waiting.”

Donnegan and Nelly chuckled at his antics and led them to the opposite side of the chamber where they embarked down another trail of the cave.

* * * *

A mere five minutes flitted by, but to Jalene five seconds would have been too long to reach the still. They traveled single file around narrow bends where sometimes the cave ceiling hung so low that they had to mind their heads. She placed her hand on the cave wall as a support only to jerk it quickly back from the slimy substance she felt. A soft yelp left her lips, causing Donnegan to turn and face her.

Before he could ask, she said, “It’s nothing. Proceed.”

Moments later, they approached a section in near darkness. Donnegan slowed his steps and they followed. What would happen if the lanterns in the distance burned out, too? she thought. She fought to control her reaction to the confines of the damp, chilly cave. It was too much like the cellar she’d been accidentally locked in during her childhood.

Her mother had forbidden her and James to go near that part of their home. It was a dark and gloomy area with a storage place for wine and other supplies that one needed to keep cool. One day, her childish curiosity got the better of her, and she secretly followed her father into the cellar. At first it was a bit frightening to know that she had disobeyed her mother’s wishes and to find herself in such an eerie place. However, with her father’s lantern light in the distance, she soon had become so engrossed in her surroundings that she failed to pay attention to her footing and tripped and bumped her head. The next conscious thought she recalled was that she was in total darkness in the cellar and that something nibbled on her toes. She screamed and fumbled about in the blackness. After much misdirection, she managed to feel her way to the locked door where she screamed until her throat hurt. Still, no one had come.

She shivered at the memory. Now, the light-filled chamber ahead—the core of Donnegan’s operation—was a welcome sight after the darkness of the rest of the cave. They stepped into a huge room where on either side of the rock walls sat three pot-shaped stills with several lads overseeing them. The mashing and fermentation must have been done in another room behind the walls, for near the opposite end of the chamber, several pipes led up through the cave ceiling while others led down and over to the cask room. One lad worked at filling the casks with whiskey. Another tended the stills. Neither looked up from his work. They moved as if they were sleepwalking or under a spell.

Donnegan caught her frown before she masked it. He said, “The young men are orphans. I rescued them from the asylums of Dublin. No one wanted them. They’re harmless, simply dimwitted. Here they have plenty to eat and are well cared for in return for their labor.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Jalene acknowledged, though she could hardly call them men. The lads appeared well fed, but she doubted they were dumb. They appeared to be drugged, and she suspected all of them had been reported missing.

“There’s a lot more here than I imagined,” Taylor said.

“Aye, but only one still is ever running at any given time. There’s a steady production from still number one, over there,” Donnegan pointed to the still nearest him, “to the last down the line. My helpers see that only one is coal-fired at a time, so they work in shifts.”

“Why don’t you fire up more than one?” Jalene asked, truly curious.

“Ventilation is kept at a minimum, so the odor above ground won’t make people suspicious. A vent is placed near the cottage chimney to leave anyone to believe the smell is from there.”

“How do you disguise the distinct odor of whiskey? I didn’t smell anything unusual outside,” Taylor said as he studied the lads at their tasks.

“Usually we cook something that has a strong aroma that overpowers the smell of whiskey. Sometimes it’s merely a huge kettle of cabbage and bacon, or other times I’ll have them cook roast pork with leeks.”

“No one has ever questioned you?” Taylor asked.

“Nay, they haven’t,” Donnegan replied.

“We’re forgetting our manners,” Nelly intervened. “I apologize.” She directed her speech toward Jalene. “I suggested we come here so you two might freshen up before the gentlemen discuss business.” Nelly gave her a weak smile and said, “Leave them now.” She turned from Jalene to smile prettily at Donnegan.

Donnegan smiled in response in such a way that Jalene instantly couldn’t help thinking that the two were sending some silent message to each other that had nothing to do with courtesies and everything to do with Taylor and herself.

“Show them to the primp room—that special room only our honored guests get to use,” Donnegan told Henry who had joined them. “My wound is bothering me. I need to go sit.”

She glanced at Taylor, but his expression gave no clue as to what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” Taylor said, “We’ll only be a moment.”

Taylor grabbed her hand and the instant his fingers tightly interlocked with hers, she sensed something was wrong. Yet, this wasn’t the moment to question Taylor. They exited the brightly lit room only to travel another short passageway.

“In there,” Henry said, stopping in front of a door that was only half the size in height of a normal entryway.

“This is an odd little door, isn’t it? Strange, that it was made so that you would have to stoop through it to pass inside.” Jalene spoke to Taylor, hesitant to go near the door, much less open it. “I tell you what. I’m really quite fine now that I’m dry.”

“Let’s go back then,” Taylor said, still gripping her hand firmly as he made to shove his way past Henry.

“I’m afraid not,” Henry failed to move and firmly planted, blocked their path. He pulled a pistol from the waistband of his breeches. “In there with ye now.” He waved the weapon first at them and next the little door.

“We’re guests of Mr. Donnegan,” Jalene argued. “He’ll not like your bullying us about.”

Henry laughed. “I’m followin’ his orders. Get in there unless you’d like assistance.” He flashed the pistol at them.

“I’d like to speak with Donnegan,” Taylor said, without moving a step further.

“Oh, ye’ll talk to him all right. Now go.”

Henry made as if to hit her on the head. Taylor instantly reacted in her defense, attempting to grab for the pistol, but Henry apparently anticipated the move and aimed the weapon at Taylor’s head, stopping him in midstride.

“Get your arse movin’. Ye’ve come real close to me usin’ this,” Henry told Taylor and cocked the pistol.

Taylor grabbed her hand and reached for the door handle. Crouching over, he tugged her with him through the low entryway into total darkness. Once inside, she stood at full height again. She tore her hand from his and turned towards the door, the only source of light. She reached for the handle as Henry pulled it shut.

“Wait,” she said, knowing her voice did nothing to mask her panic. “We have no lantern.”

Henry slammed the door shut. As darkness enclosed the room, a scream of horror left her lips. Terrified, she steadily banged on the door with her fists and screamed at it, “Don’t leave me. I can’t see. I have to see.”

“Jalene.”

She heard Taylor’s approach and slapped into the darkness at him. Frantically, she kicked at the earthen floor. “Get away!”

When his movement stilled, she instantly turned her attention to the door, pounding and pulling on the door handle. “Open. It’s got to open.” She sobbed.

“It’s locked, Jalene. There’s no use,” Taylor said in a soothing manner.

Once more, she heard him move in her direction and began kicking at the ground as he neared. “There’s something in here. I know it. Crawling on the floor. Get it! Get it! Hurry!” She yelled and groped at the nothingness in front of her.

His hands connected with hers, and he pulled her into his arms. She wrestled with him, but his strength was too great.

“I can’t stand it. I have to see.” She squirmed and fought against him. “Help! God help me! Get me out of here.”

“Be still,” he commanded. “You’re hysterical. There’s naught to be frightened about. I’m with you.”

“Leave me be.” She struggled further. His words of consolation meant nothing to her. She had to get out of this hell.

His hands touched her head. He tugged on the hair at the nape and with the other, he slapped her face.

His action left her breathless and speechless.

Quickly, he held her to him. “I’m sorry, sweetness. It was the only way.” He patted her hair in a soothing gesture and caressed her back, holding her to him. When she started to shiver, he rubbed her arms for a few moments.

“Close your eyes,” he finally said, and coaxed her to a sitting position against him and the door she had just beat upon so thoroughly. “The dark is nothing to fear, Jalene. What has made you so frightened?”

Her words tumbled out over chattering lips. “I’ve always been afraid of the dark. But ever since I was locked in the wine cellar when I was a child, I panic if there’s no light.”

“Who did such a cruel thing to you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t intentional.” She told him how she’d gotten locked inside the cellar, and that it wasn’t until hours later that she was rescued.

“I still have nightmares where I wake up calling for my Poppy, ... my da.” Her voice sounded unusually loud in the blackness of the musty cave chamber, though she now spoke in a more normal tone.

His embrace tightened around her. “That would be a frightening experience even for an adult, but a child…”

“That’s why I have to sleep with a candle burning on a moonless night except ...” As she said the words, she remembered their lovemaking in the tinker caravan. She had slept the entire night in comfort and in the dark. Maybe ...

“Except what?” Taylor asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s understandable, Jalene,” Taylor urged.