Infinite Devotion (32 page)

“You should take your leave, then, before there’s trouble.”

He shakes off my warning and leans on the window that frames the beautiful white creature speeding around its corral. “If you don’t ride her, I will.”

“If Acheson returns, he’ll have both our necks.”

He snickers and in one fluid movement hops over the corral fence and starts walking slowly toward the mare.

“She’s green, won’t let anyone ride her yet,” I say, jealous he’s brave enough to try.

He says nothing but keeps walking toward her, not looking at her but in her direction. The horse stops, noticing she has a visitor, and gives a few nervous whinnies and spins around in the back of her corral. He puts his arm up, very slowly, and comes within a few feet of her, chanting some strange song. She snorts and walks backwards a few steps, and he slows down his movements as she watches him closely. He makes shushing noises as he reaches out to her nose, and she lets him touch her. I let out a breath I was holding the whole time. He starts to run his hands through her mane, and without taking his hands off her skin, runs them all the way down her strong back.

With one quick movement, he hops up on her bareback, and she lunges forward, startled by the feeling, and starts kicking and rearing. He seems stuck on her somehow. No matter how the horse moves, he keeps a perfect seat. He stays calm and never yells out as she thrashes. I’m glad he’s having some trouble, though it doesn’t last long. Within a few minutes, she’s prancing around the corral, obeying all his leanings and leg squeezes, and he brings her up to me at the window. He dismounts like he has wings and wears a broad smile. “So you see, easy as that.”

“You charmed her.” I’m glad someone was having fun.

“Naw, I had my eye on her and would have already spirited her off without casting a shadow, but I saw how he struck you and thought maybe you deserved this fine beast.”

“Ah, so, it’s a horse thief you are?”

“Only the best in the county.” He bows proudly.

“But you’re only my age?”

“Oh, don’t start comparing me to you, now, or you might start to cry.”

“They hang horse thieves in these parts.”

“Only if you’re stupid enough to get caught.” He looks me up and down. “Oh, I see why you’re worried, though. You look pretty stupid.”

He starts throwing a tin of saddle wax up in the air and catching it.

“Well, bless me with your knowledge, then,” I say half-sarcastically, half-curious.

“Don’t you have to be checking on those messages?”

“How’d you know what he said? He was speaking English.”

“Really, I didn’t notice.” He throws it up and spins once before catching it.

“Do you keep all the horses that you steal?”

“Hold on, I never said I
steal
anything”—he shakes the tin at me—“but if you’re talking about if these horses
follow
me home, I make sure to trade them in real quick for either coin or a legitimate horse.”

“Where do you take them, then?”

“To a fair in another county.”

I look at the magnificent animal and say, “They don’t let us Irish even ride a horse like that.”

“That’s even more of a reason to take her!” He winks and throws me the tin and starts walking away. “Be sure to dye her with brazilet with alum when you go to sell. A white horse like this will stand out like a whore in church,” he says over his shoulder before he disappears.

The mare throws her head in the air, shaking her mane in the wind. He had tied her up for me. I look back over at the kicked mounting step and hear Acheson’s voice again: “
Ignorant Irish Yeoman!”
Something comes over me, and I open the door to her corral. I slip a simple saddle on her carefully and slide a bridle on as I untie her ropes. “Easy, girl. Easy, girl.” She snorts as I climb on her and takes off running through the open gate as I cling onto the reins and saddle for dear life. I swear someone laughs as we bolt from the stables.

She runs all the way around Sir Acheson’s large fields as I’m trying everything I can to direct her toward town. When I finally reach the village of Markethill, there’s a commotion stirring. I turn to go back through the woods again to another town, but three horsemen come up behind me and block my escape.

How could they have found me so fast?

I turn to try to gallop through the crowded town, but two more horsemen appear, blocking my way.

I try in English, “Gentlemen, is there something wrong?”

They seem surprised by my perfect English but continue as one officer takes the white horses bridle in hand. “You are under arrest for suspicion of horse thievery. Until we can sort matters out properly, we will detain you for trial.”

I watch as they take the horse to the stable next to the courthouse. Sitting in a small room with two other unfortunate men, I call for some water. A guard comes with a pint of water and says, “Don’t drink too much, there’s nowhere to piss.”

“Wait.” I try to get as close as I can to the guard through the bars. “I come from a wealthy English family. There has been some mistake, but you look like a man who could use some extra coin in your pocket, and my father would reward well.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What would you ask of me?”

“To make sure this matter goes away fast. It would be good if that white mare in the stables next to us becomes a sorrel overnight.”

“Well, how in the hell can I do that?” He seems like he’s about to walk away.

“Mix brazilet with alum and coat every white hair on that horse.” I slip him all of the money I have on me and say, “This is to get you started.”

He takes the money and studies me up and down. “You don’t look like any horse thief to me, and you certainly don’t sound like these Irish lowlifes. I’ll do your bidding but expect that reward.”

The next morning, I’m called to stand trial. The white-wigged magistrate in heavy robes is sitting behind his desk in the small courtroom. I’m brought to stand to the left of the courtroom, and Sir Acheson walks in with his nose in the air. He stands to the right with his lawyer, also wearing a white wig. The judge begins the details of the case and says, “Redmond O’Hanlon, what say you in your defense?”

“Your Honor and Sirs of the court, I am not guilty of this crime.” Acheson clears his throat at this loudly. “I did not steal a white mare, Your Honor.”

The aged judge holds his paper afar so he can read the paper. “It does indeed say a white mare was seized in your possession.”

“’Tis a mistake, Your Honor, I was riding a sorrel, sir.”

“May I speak, Your Honor?” Acheson says in his high, annoying voice.

“You may, Sir.”

“A white horse was in my stable, a white horse was seen riding off under this thief, and a white horse now kicks in your court’s stable.”

The judge pauses a moment and asks, “Are the officers that detained Mr. O’Hanlon here in court?”

An officer from the back of the room says, “None are present, sir. They have all gone back to the garrison.”

He scratches his head tiredly. “Well, then, bring the beast in.”

The officer marches out the door and returns within minutes with a fine sorrel prancing through the large courtroom doors.

Acheson slams his gloves on the table and yells, “That is not the horse, you idiot!”

“Officer, are you sure that is the horse that pertains to this case?” the judge asks.

“It is the only horse in the stables, Your Honor.”

Acheson screams, “That is not my horse!”

The judge asks me, “Is this the horse you were riding yesterday?”

“Yes, Your Honor, ’tis the very one.”

He turns to Acheson. “You said yourself this is not your horse, so I cannot charge this man for stealing a horse no one’s missing. This case is therefore dismissed.”

Acheson picks his glove up, takes a deep breath, and says to me, “This isn’t over, yeoman,” and walks out.

An officer comes to untie my hands, and I make my way to the where they have the sorrel tied up. I’m about to get on when the guard grabs the horse’s saddle and, with his hand on his pistol, demands, “So, where’s that reward?”

I gather the reins up in my hand and put them in his. “She’s all yours. She’ll fetch a good price. Just be sure to sell her in the next county.”

He seems pleased with this, and I kick up my heels as I walk down the dirt road toward my home. Once I tell Da the tale, he laughs louder than I’ve ever heard him laugh before. As soon as he gains his composure, he says, “You’ll have to go away from here for a time. Acheson doesn’t give up easy, and he’ll try to make your life hell if he finds you here, indeed.”

“Already made my choice. I’m going on exodus in France. I’m sure their military will accept me.”

He shakes his head in deep thought. “It’s the very best you could do, son, right now, with all this retribution going on around us.” He reaches over and hugs me. “Give Cromwell a steel kiss for me if you see him.”

I pack up and say my good-byes, with Ma in tears yet again.

“Wish I could go with you.” Art kicks his worn dried leather boots in the dirt.

“Going to miss this farm. I only feel alive while I breathe this valley air.” I take it in deep.

“Oh, go on now, dear, ’twill be here when you get back.” Ma wipes her tears with the ties on her headdress.

Da stands straighter. “That’s right, Redmond. I’ll never let those confiscators get their bloody hands on it.”

And I walk down the glens and roads I know so well, alone, into foreign arms.

Chapter 4

Years later, when I think it’s safe that Acheson has searched high and low for me and given up, I return. It feels so good to be back on Irish sod again that I don’t even bat an eye at the old nag I have to ride on. In France, I rode the finest horses in formation, and now I’m given a bag of bones worthy of an Irishman. But I set my sights for that little cottage on the knoll and can almost smell Ma’s stew over the fire.

I can tell something’s different from the view up the road. Where Da once had fences for the livestock, I see shining, waving golden tails. I kick the old thing to gallop, but all she does is trot faster, farther up the path. I can’t breathe as I see that the fields reach up over the hills and cover the area where I perfectly recalled the farm should be. My blood thickens, and I turn the horse to head to the only place I think I can find someone to tell me where my family has gone.

I walk through the dark, wooden doorway of the tavern and immediately inhale the thick smell of cheap whiskey and homegrown poteen. Only three men are in the room. The one in the middle turns at my entrance, and he does a double take upon seeing me.

Art says, slurring slightly, “Count O’Hanlon!” He turns to the man next to him. “He got counted off in France, you know.”

The other man turns slightly and takes a look. “Well la-de-da,” he says and goes back to his drink.

“I’ve seen the farm. Where’s Ma and Da?”

“St. John gave us the boot two years ago.” He takes a swig of his drink. “You can find them at your Ma’s sisters, in the workhouse out back. Sky farmers, now.”

“I was sure Da would’ve appealed and gotten all our lands back.”

“Oh, sure, he did that settlement appeal, but nothing came of it. Throwing good money after bad, is all. That bastard Sir Henry St. John is still sitting in Tandragee, watching all his crops grow where we laid our heads.”

Art doesn’t look good. His clothes are dirty, and his color’s poor. I think of Ma and Da and worry about how they fare. Without a word, I turn and run out the door.

Art comes hollering behind me, “Redmond, where you off to?”

“Going to look in on them.”

I jump on my horse and go much slower than I want. It feels like years before I reach the old cottage at the edge of town. The cottage itself is half the size of ours and in great disrepair. Behind a heap of peat stacked for the fire sits a small workhouse that has plants growing from the thatch and smoke seeping out the cracks in the walls. Ma sits on a large stone by the well, plucking a chicken. She looks up at the sound of my horse’s trot, and her haggard face brightens.

“Redmond! Hugh! It’s Redmond!” she yells behind her to the workhouse. My Da comes coughing out of the smoky building.

“
Count
Redmond, Mary!” He comes up with a warm embrace. “Come have a seat inside and tell us all about what you’ve seen.”

“Have you appealed?” I ask, too angry to sit.

His face drops. “Sure, I’ve spent the last four years fighting them in court. Nothing, we have nothing.”

Ma twists her hands nervously, turning pinker with every word. “But we are getting along fine here, Redmond. It’s not so bad. We’ve got everything we need, can’t ask for more.”

“Never dread the winter till the snow is on your blanket, right, Mary?” He gleams at her with such pride.

“I sent back all I could for you. Did you get it?” I glance around, wondering why they couldn’t have afforded a better place with that money.

“Oh, thank you, dear. Bless your heart for taking such good care of us, Redmond. We got every guinea.” Ma looks like this is killing her.

“It paid for all the court appeals and lawyers. Now it’s all we have to get by,” says Da.