The Sword of the Banshee (21 page)

The elderly woman screamed and the young girls gaped at the bandit with wide eyes. Their father cried, “What insolence is this!”

Everyone was stunned. No one moved. Suddenly, the young gentleman sitting next to India poked a pistol into her ribs and demanded, “Your firearm, Madam.”

India looked at him with surprise.
How
could he know about her pistol?
She knew then that this was no garden variety highway robbery. This was Calleigh’s doing. The first bandit started yanking passengers out onto the road. India handed over her weapon and climbed out. She spotted Phineas standing under a tree, his eyes like saucers and grin on his face.

“Get over here!” she said, yanking him to her side. She knew these outlaws impressed him, and it irritated her. The men lined up the passengers and began collecting their valuables. The Swedish couple looked terrified. Even though it was in another language, India could tell the couple was pleading for mercy, but it was unnecessary. This was not about robbery.

When they got to India, they saw the ribbon dangling around her neck and asked to see what she concealed in her bodice. She pulled the purse out and handed it to them without comment.

As the outlaws continued to search the passengers, India saw a man on a horse, overseeing everything from high ground. He was in a charcoal-colored coat, britches and boots. He too wore a scarf over his face with a tricorne hat pulled low over his forehead.

Suddenly, he kicked his steed and sped down the hill toward India. The sound of his hooves startled the bandits, and they turned their pistols on him and then relaxed. When he reached India, he snapped the reins up, spattering her skirts with mud. She did not move or acknowledge the insult from him. Instead she held her head high, looking him in the face. The man’s dark eyes grew wide with amazement at the sight of her. He scrutinized her from the plume of her traveling hat down to the toes of her boots. Blinking several times, he turned suddenly to his men and jerked his head, signaling for them to leave.

“Thank you one and all for your donations to the rebel cause,” called the first bandit as the other one handed passengers into the coach.

The coachmen climbed back up to their posts, and Phineas started to scramble up the side of the vehicle. The gentleman bandit from the coach reached up and lifted him off putting him at India’s side, along with her bag. They waved for the driver to depart and India and Phineas were left behind.

The men pushed them into the woods and up a hill. The man who had splashed India waited there with horses. As India mounted, the man leaned down and pulled Phineas into the saddle in front of him. Phineas turned around and looked at him. Even though the man’s face was covered Phineas could see his eyes were smiling.

He lowered his scarf and said to India in Gaelic, “Lady Allen, it pains me to think you would leave me without saying goodbye.”

India was stunned.
Could this ruffian be Quinn Calleigh?
She ran her eyes over him. He was much younger and darker than she had imagined. She had pictured an older more distinguished gentleman, not this unrefined Irishman of low birth. She looked away.

He pushed the hat back on his head. Even though his black hair was tied back, several damp curls slipped out onto his forehead. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and said, “Ah, the Ice Queen. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Why are you detaining me?” she asked curtly.

“Because you owe me money. Last night’s consultation was not enough to repay your passage. Indentured servants work seven years to pay for their passage to the Colonies. Why should it be free for you?”

“If this is about money, I can get you money,” she said, her eyes turning an icy blue.

He chuckled, “Your expertise is what I need, darlin’, and you
will
deliver.”

He kicked his horse and they rode off down the deer path deep into the woods. Riding hard at first they slowed eventually to a walk in single file along a ridge overlooking the river. The sun shining through the trees dappled the path with light.

“What’s your name, boy?” Quinn asked Phineas.

“Phineas Martin Pierpoint.”

Quinn chuckled. “With a name like that, you must be related to George the third.”

Phineas shrugged and said, “Maybe.” He saw squirrels hopping through the underbrush and noticed how loud they were scampering through the dry leaves. He wished he had his sling shot.

“Are you hungry, lad?” Calleigh asked.

“Yes, where are we going?” the boy said, looking up at the man.

“To a mill not far from here. The mistress there will make you eggs and johnnycake. You like johnnycake?”

“I do!”

The sun was growing hot and Quinn took off his hat and put it on Phineas’ head. The boy grinned and pushed it back onto his forehead. It covered half his back.

Quinn turned around in his saddle to look at India. She was looking down at the river, scowling. “You enjoying the view?” he called.

She ignored him.

“Does your mistress ever smile,” he asked Phineas.

“Not much. She doesn’t laugh either.”

“Aye,” agreed Calleigh shaking his head. “She is a sour one.”

There was a fork in the path and the group stopped. Calleigh picked up Phineas under the arms and passed him to the bandit who had been in the coach. “Take him down to the Quincy place and get him something to eat,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

The men continued to follow the ridge with Phineas as Calleigh dismounted. “Get off,” he said to India. “You and I walk from here.’

Frowning, India dismounted, slung her skirts over her arm and took the reins of her horse. She followed Calleigh down an overgrown trail which leveled off by the water. He waited for her and they walked side by side, their horses trailing behind them.

“You surprised me when you tried to leave, Lady Allen. I didn’t take you for a thief.”

India looked at him. “I didn’t take you for a highwayman, Mr. Calleigh.”

He laughed. “It was wonderful being a ‘Knight of the Road’ again this morning. It is what I did in Kildare before they ran me out. It was my small way of contributing to the repparees in Ireland.”

“Oh I am sure your motives were pure,” India said in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

Quinn lifted his hat and scratched his head. “I admit it
was
lucrative especially when I was married to the fence.”

“Your wife sold the stolen goods?”

“Indeed,” he said, smiling roguishly at her.

When he looked away, India ran her eyes over Calleigh, noting his dark skin. The gypsy blood runs in his veins, she thought.

Quinn led them down to the river so the horses could drink. The animals dipped their heads and slurped the water eagerly. India noticed a rope swing on a branch overhanging the river. She reached out and touched it.

“That probably belongs to the Quincy children,” Calleigh observed. “It looks like fun. Phineas would like it. Is he your boy?”

“No, we met on the quay in Philadelphia,” she explained.

“Where are his people?”

India shrugged. “They are gone. He refuses to talk about it.”

India watched the water washing over the rocks and the colored leaves riding past on the current. Suddenly, she looked at Quinn and asked, “How do you know I won’t run away again?”

Calleigh’s eyebrows shot up and he said, “Ah, I have something that you will not get back until I have your word that you will stay and finish the job.”

“And what would that be?” she asked thinking of her purse.

“Your little friend, Phineas.”

India frowned. A breeze loosened several strands of hair blowing them across her face. She pushed the hair back impatiently and looked out at the river. She knew these winds would turn cold soon, followed by heavy snows. Even if he surrendered Phineas and they left now, travel would be difficult.

With an exasperated sigh she said, “It is under protest, but you have my word.  I will stay until spring, no longer.”

“Done,” said Quinn with a smile. India wondered if she should have driven a harder bargain.

Everything seemed so amusing to him. “Are you serious about anything?” she asked.

Calleigh shrugged, gathered the reins and started down the path with India walking beside him. “I am serious about this rebellion,” he said.

They followed a bend in the river and crossed an old wooden bridge. India could see a house through the trees. As he started up the path, he said, “I know you think we don’t suffer enough here to merit a revolution.”

“That is correct,” agreed India without apology.

He stopped abruptly and faced her. This time there was no smile on his face, no twinkle in his eye. “This is our last chance, Lady Allen. Here is where the Irish can be free. Here is our future. I know you think our operation will fail. Of course it is a shambles right now but why summon you if we did not need help?”

“So you suggest we give up on Ireland?” India asked. “Abandon our moors, our coastlines, our green valleys for this land, this new revolution?”

“Is that what you think I am asking? Did I give up on Ireland?” he asked.

India looked into his eyes, remembering the vast amounts of money that he channeled into their rebellion.

“If we overthrow the British here,” he continued. “It will be the first link broken in Great Britain’s chain of bondage throughout the world. We may not see it in our lifetime, but we will set the wheels in motion to free Ireland someday.”

India did not like what he was saying, yet she was listening. It was painful to acknowledge that the rebellion in her homeland was over, but after months of agony she had accepted it.

India turned her back on Calleigh.
Can I endure another struggle?
Can I lose myself again in another crusade?

When she turned back to him, he had his answer. He smiled broadly and said, “I will send couriers out tonight to say that you have accepted.”

“Couriers?” she questioned. “Why not announce it at the next meeting?”

“Lady Allen, I don’t believe you understand. The undertaking is not just for this settlement. You and I will be leading the entire partisan operation for the thirteen American Colonies.”

Chapter 20

When she wasn’t looking, Calleigh would steal glances at this unusual woman from his homeland. When he had first seen her standing by the coach, he was stunned and forgot himself, racing down for a closer look. For years he had heard rumors about the frigid beauty of Lady Fitzpatrick and her unusual, unpredictable eyes, but he had put these down as exaggerations. Then when he saw her in the light of day, he realized the gossip had been accurate. She had taken his breath away like an icy winter wind. He could not understand how he had been deceived by the peasant guise. The woman was the embodiment of Irish aristocracy.

Nevertheless, she disappointed him still. Even though her speech was impeccable, her movements fluid and graceful, there was no spontaneity or joy present in her demeanor. She seemed wooden and untouched by human emotion. He supposed the indifference came from years of exposure to bloodshed, but he wondered if anyone had
ever
resided behind that crystalline exterior.

Quinn Calleigh, on the other hand, was a man who scooped up life with both hands and bathed in it. He approached everything passionately and with vigorous enthusiasm. His laughter and good nature were as fundamental to him as his mix of Irish and Iberian blood. It kept the bitterness and rage of a meager upbringing at bay.

Coming of age during the Protestant Ascendancy was tortuous for the Irish Catholic. It drained the life out of most, but Quinn Calleigh refused to submit. His cavalier attitude coupled with a desire to outwit the British drove him to daring exploits, but it found him trouble as well. In the end, he was pursued by the authorities and fled from Ireland forging a successful life for himself in the American Colonies instead.

Quinn looked at his home as the gelding pulled him up the hill. He was proud of the estate. He began to build his home the minute he came to the Brandywine Valley. Most of the Irish were exiles in America, pining for the verdant hills and misty mountains of home, but Quinn Calleigh loved this new land immediately. He knew that peace and prosperity would be found here in this restful valley.

“Is that your home?” India asked as she came to the crest of the hill.

“It is, and now it will be your home.”

India was not sure what to make of this cryptic reply, but she asked no more, ducking low as her horse passed under a branch.

She wondered how Phineas fared at the Quincys. She supposed he had eaten by now, and she realized that she too was hungry, having had nothing to eat since last night. It made her feel irritable, and she asked, “I grow tired of all this clandestine activity. Will you please tell me what you intend?”

“Lady Allen, are you out of sorts?” he asked with a smirk.

India clenched her jaw. The horses stepped out of the woods into the clearing of Calleigh’s estate. Once again, India was impressed with the beauty of his home. The trees were ablaze with color in the autumn sun. She felt it warm her skin as the horses crossed the lawn. Calleigh had removed the undergrowth near the house and the birch, sycamores and maples had room to breathe and flourish. The leaves drifted down lazily gathering under the trees as India looked across the pastures at the stone walls and timber fences etching the landscape. Horses grazed in the distance.