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If he wouldn’t do anything
to stop it, he at least, had the decency to stand watching with
tears streaming down his face.
There was
Ciara O’Reilly, shaking her head and mouthing the words
sorry, I’m so sorry
.
Mike had rescued her eldest boy, Dan, from a wild boar and still
carried the scar on his calf from the beast’s tusk to show for
it.

“What part of you thinks justice is being
done here today?” he shouted at to them.

The crowd murmured. A few looked up at him.
Most simply shuffled and looked at the ground.

“There was no trial that brought me and
Declan here. Just vengeance and racism. That’s all that’s being
proven today. Every last one of you that stands there and does
nothing is a part of it as surely as if you’d put the noose around
our necks yourself.”

“Well, did you do it, Mike?” Someone yelled
out. “Did you let young Ollie go?”

“That’s not why I’m here, Jerry,” Mike
called back. “I’m here because that man has nowhere to go with his
grief over his dead daughter but to lay it at my feet.”

A few in the crowd turned to look at Archie,
who stood glowering at Mike, his arms crossed against his chest,
his face purple with hate and, now, embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re not being punished for your
wife’s death,” Archie shouted. “He’s being punished for letting
Ollie go.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t he acting leader at the
time?” somebody called out.

“That doesn’t matter,” Gilhooley said. “It
was in direct violation of my orders!”

“Cor, sure sounds like you give as many
orders as Mike did. And I’m still waiting for my extra ration of
sugar to show up.”

The voices in the crowd swelled like a wave
cresting as more people added their complaints to the growing
din.

“This is neither the time nor the place!”
Gilhooley yelled, trying to silence the crowd. “After the
execution, we’ll have a general camp meeting to address all of your
concerns. Tell me you ever did that with Mike Donovan?”

Mike saw the crowd consider Gilhooley’s
words. No, he’d never had a camp meeting to do anything but to tell
them what would happen next. A couple of them nodded as if they had
to agree with that.

“This is just the vengeance of one old man,”
Mike said. “This is murder.”

“Enough talking!” Archie yelled out.
“Jamison, do your job!”

Mike turned to look at Declan who stood
impassive and unnerved. He stared straight ahead, not looking
around, refusing to look at Mike.

If that’s what he needs to
do to get through this,
Mike thought with
resignation,
I’ll not fault him.
Mike turned away to close his eyes and
pray.

God, please don’t let Gav see this to be
tortured with it the rest of his days. Please look over Fiona and
her bairn and watch over me and Dec as we come to you, please God,
this day.

And dear Lord, please have my Sarah finally
happy with her life wherever she wants to be.

Into your hands, I commend my soul.

***

Fiona saw the two of them as they stood on
the stage and forced herself not to react to the sight of it.

She’d been preparing herself for much
worse.

The horse she rode was skittish, used to
pulling a cart and green under saddle. She knew she telegraphed her
nerves to him through her knees and thighs, her hands jerking on
the reins.

He didn’t so much enter the camp as charge
it.

Fiona twisted a handful of his mane into her
hands and hung on as he galloped through the gate and straight down
the main pathway to the center campfire and the staging area. She
saw Mike standing with his head down, his hands in front of him as
if praying. Her own husband watched her come, his eyes growing
larger as she neared.

She was grateful no one was directly in her
path. The few who were too close had only a moment to jump out of
the way before she barreled on through and up to the foot of the
stage. Her chest heaving with fear and anticipation, she watched
Gilhooley and Jamison stare at her with open-mouthed shock. But
neither went for their pistols.

Sarah was right about that,
Fiona thought, with breathless satisfaction, feeling the strength
she needed well up in her chest.
If the
bastards think you’re weak, you can catch ‘em off guard.
She pulled out the handgun and pointed it at Iain
Jamison’s head.

She could hear the members of the community
gasp but she wasn’t worried. With her back to them any one of them
could approach her from behind and pull her down from her
horse—even now dancing about as if his feet were on fire. But she
knew they wouldn’t. They weren’t participants in this nightmare.
They were only watchers.

Her gun arm wobbled and she fought to keep
it aimed at Iain. Instead of reaching for his gun, Iain raised his
hands in surrender. It was then she knew he didn’t want to go
forward with any of this. He had been waiting for an opportunity to
back out of it.

“Declan, Mike, back away from the trap
doors,” she said, hating her voice for sounding so shrill and
feminine.

“Are you going to just let her do this?”
Another female voice punctured the air, rising several decibels
with each word.

Fiona didn’t bother to look at Caitlin. She
cocked her semiautomatic with one hand and struggled to keep
control of her mount with the other. “We’re leaving the way we came
in,” she said, panting and trying not to think about what she was
doing or how she was going to get Mike and Dec out of the camp.

Thinking too much was never good.

If she’d heard Sarah say that once, she’d
heard it a hundred times.

She was amazed that still nobody moved. To
Fiona, it was almost as if the crowd was waiting for the show to
start. Which is why, when she heard the rustling and murmuring grow
louder—yet nothing on stage had happened to warrant it—she turned
to see what was happening.

Behind her, a stream of men and women poured
into the staging area from all sides of the camp. The gypsies who
normally kept to themselves pushed to the front of crowd. Fiona
could see they were armed and that they held their weapons in their
hands ready to use. Still pointing her gun at Iain, Fiona shifted
in her saddle to see that the three largest gypsies stood at the
foot of the stage in front of Declan.

But they were looking at her.

She directed her attention back to the stage
and steadied her aim. “Untie them.”

Iain moved quickly to Declan and jerked his
hands free of the leather thong. He turned and did the same for
Mike and then stepped away, his hands held up.

“You coward!” Gilhooley shouted at him.
“Nobody move! This execution will go on as planned!”

Fiona saw him grope for the gun he had
jammed in his belt loop, but before he could reach it Caitlin
jerked it from him and pointed it at Mike.

Instantly, Fiona corrected her aim and
pulled the trigger. She watched Caitlin jerk backward as the bullet
punched into her chest at the same time Fiona’s horse screamed and
wheeled away at the loud report. As she grabbed at the saddle to
stay upright, the gun slipped from her fingers. A roar from the
crowd engulfed her and she felt rough, harsh hands grabbing at her
and pulling her to the ground.

She hit the earth hard and felt the air
punch out of her lungs in a violent expulsion. When she opened her
eyes, Archie Kelly was standing over her. He held her by her jacket
in one hand, and drew his other back in a large meaty fist aimed
for her face. Before she could bring her hands up to protect her
face—or the baby—hands reached out and grabbed Archie, yanking him
away. Fiona scrambled to her feet and felt herself being pulled to
the perimeter of the melee. Siobhan Murray, with a bloody lip, held
her tightly by the elbow and pushed them both to the outskirts.

“Watch yourself now, darlin’,” Siobhan said
soothingly. “We’ll not let the bastards have their way this
day!”

Did…did I just shoot Caitlin?

Fiona turned to see the gypsies ripping down
the stage with their bare hands. Some of them were running after
the Kelly twins, chasing them with planks of wood with jagged nails
sticking out of them.

“Where…can you see Dec and Mike?”

“Oh, they’re fine now, lass. Don’t you
worry. Let’s just get you and the little one somewhere safe while
we wait out the row, aye?”

“Siobhan…did…did I…is Caitlin dead?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know. Seeing as how
she was spawned from the depths of hell, we probably won’t know for
certain if she’s really dead. But we can hope!”

Fiona allowed Siobhan to take her to the
porch of her old cottage and sat with her on the bench and watched
the battle as the members of Daoineville took back its community
with a two by four to the head.

She could see Gilhooley
bending over Caitlin’s body on the stage and her stomach lurched to
see it.
Demon from hell or
not
, she thought, trying to swallow past
her bile,
did I kill her?

“Hello, my beauty.”

She snapped her head to the other side of
where she was sitting with Siobhan to find Declan—a fresh cut over
his right eye—and a broad grin on his face. “Oh, Dec!” She launched
herself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t
believe it.”

“Nor me, darlin,’” he said laughing. “Did
you really decide to spring me and your brother all by your
lonesome?”

She looked at him with wonder. Hearing him
say the words made her realize how mad the idea had been. “I guess
I did. But oh, Dec! Your family came! At just the right
moment!”

“Aye, they said they went to find you at the
cottage and Aideen told them what you were up to. You know they’ve
decided you’re their new Gypsy Queen? My wonderful Fiona—mad,
beautiful and brave as any gypsy goddess you could hope for.” He
kissed her.

Siobhan leaned in to speak over the fighting
still going on. “Not to take anything away from the gypsies, mind,”
she said pointedly to Declan, “but the people of Daoineville are
finishing the job they started. Let’s don’t leave that part out of
the story when it gets told around the campfire.”

“It’s true,” Dec said, putting his arm
around Fiona. “When that nutter Kelly went for you—a pregnant
woman, no less—it finally stirred something in the crowd.”

“The very idea—attacking a
woman with child!” Siobhan said. “What are they,
English
?”

A shadow descended across the front porch
and Fiona looked up to see Mike and Gavin walking away from the
dismantled stage.

“Mind if I kiss my rescuer?” Mike said,
leaning in to kiss Fiona on the cheek. “Sure, I never imagined in
my wildest days that it would be you, Fi. And six months pregnant
to boot!”

“I know,” Fi said, feeling the glow of his
praise and the pure joy that he and Declan were safe. “Sarah always
said a woman’s best weapon was a man’s blatant disrespect of her
abilities. ‘You can always take ‘em by surprise,’ she said.”

Fiona saw Mike’s face soften as he brought
Sarah to mind. “Aye,” he said. “I can just hear her.” He leaned in
and kissed her again and then slapped Declan on the knee. “Come on,
mate. Let’s mop up what’s left of this mess.”

Declan gave her a last squeeze before
bounding down the stairs to join the gypsies and the cleanup of the
melee.

Fiona watched him go and realized that the
day that had started so poorly—so full of terror and
hopelessness—was ending with a happiness she had no right to ever
imagine or hope for.

And all it took was riding into an armed
camp with one gun on an unreliable horse and a determination not to
accept failure.

Fiona placed her hand on her swollen tummy
and leaned back against the house and watched the activity before
her. Archie and Gilhooley were both on their knees weeping by
Caitlin’s body, but being watched closely by Declan, who stood near
them with a gun in his hand. The stage was now a pile of splintered
wood and Fiona watched two gypsies dragging pieces of board to the
main cook fire.

Women walked by with babies on their hips as
if today were no different than the last time a stage was
constructed—at the Harvest Festival. A few of the gypsy women
smiled shyly at Fiona as they passed. One waved.

As Fiona watched the camp right itself, she
slipped her hand into Siobhan’s without speaking. The old woman
turned to look at her and Fiona watched her face visibly ease.

“You all right?” Siobhan asked. “Quite a bit
of excitement for so early in the morning.”

“I’m good,” Fiona said. “I’m real good.” She
beamed and let the glory of the morning—and what she had done—wash
over her.

She had changed the tide. She, Fiona, had
turned it all around when no one else could. And now Mike was back
bossing people around with Declan, his best mate, at his side just
as before.

And on top of it all, she was home again.
She was sitting on her own front porch, safely reinstated in her
own tiny corner of the world. Fiona smiled and closed her eyes,
feeling the sun break through the thick morning clouds to caress
her upturned face.

Sarah, darling, you would’ve been proud of
me today.

25

The walk back from the village graveyard was
a somber one. Fiona drove the cart with a few of the children from
the village, including Taffy, while Declan walked along side. The
morning was chilly, wet and gray.

Perfect for a funeral. Even better for
three.

Caitlin and her brothers, the only
fatalities from the fight the day before, were buried together in
the Ballinagh kirkyard with the sun struggling to peek through the
clouds that hung low in the sky before finally giving up the
effort.