Ink & Paper (Chp 3)

Authors Note: I would strongly suggest you read chapters 1 & 2 first if you have not already, or else you will be lost. Chapters 1 & 2 can be found in my portfolio (Richard T. Clark )



Treasa and Mary left for the second room. Séamus had just finished recounting the day’s events and looked up from his stein and across the table. The man sitting across from him was taking his time stuffing his pipe with a fresh bowl of tobacco, contemplating what he had just heard. In his youth Aidan had been a powerfully built man, but had gone slightly to seed with age; though the regulars at the tavern in Kildare still recounted his ability to take on opponents two and three deep when tempers flared and the need arose. In his early fifties now, his auburn hair was speckled with gray from the top of his head to the bristles on his chin, and his stomach finally had greater depth than his chest.

He struck a match and started to take large puffs from the pipe to cherry the leaves contained within. The pipe alight, he cleared his throat. “So, what is your course of action now?” His eyes met Séamus’.

“We’ll have to leave Eire. There’s no other choice, is there?” he said rhetorically.

“No, I suppose not. But what brings you here before a port?” he asked curiously.

Séamus cut to the chase. “We need money; I’d hoped you would be able to buy out my flock.”

He took another puff from his pipe and exhaled slowly, a considering look on his face. “These are difficult times Séamus; I still’ve not fully recovered from the potato losses.”

He understood, but could not stop a feeling of defeat from creeping in at this statement.

Then after a pause, Aidan spoke again, “I can only afford to buy twelve head off of you.”

Séamus' heart lightened; that would be enough. “Thank you Aidan, this really means a lot to me.” He said, every ounce of gratitude in his voice. “When you go to collect the twelve take the rest as well.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

“I insist. You didn’t have to let us stay; you could’ve shown us the door the moment I told you what I did. Besides, what else could I do with the rest of ‘um? There’s no one else I’ll be able to trust to sell to after it becomes public knowledge tomorrow.”


The Briens' bed chamber was simple and modest to say the least. The bed was positioned in the corner farthest from the door; beside it was a table with assorted trinkets spread across the surface, and a candle. Which was the sole source of light in the room. In the opposite corner Treasa sat in an old wooden rocker still and unmoving; beside a desk. Mary, seated on the bed, was watching Connell play with a carved animal figurine a little less than a foot from her.

Aidan and Mary had tried to conceive for years with little success. What success they had had ended in sorrow, the second miscarriage coming as an even deeper blow than the first. After twelve years of futile attempts to have a child, they resolutely decided to abandon their efforts fearing a third loss. Though neither was bitter, they both felt as though there was an unfulfillable gap in their lives; even so, it had begun to diminish over the years. Perhaps this was why Mary was always delighted at having the chance to interact with the children of others.

“He's such a quiet baby,” she remarked. Her eyes were still fixed on Connell's progressive investigation of the toy. “The smart one's are always shy though.” With still no reply from Treasa, she turned towards her.

Tears were streaming silently down her face, her eyes staring unfocused in Connell's direction.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Treasa said nothing.

Mary went to her side. “What's the matter?”

It had all been just a terrible dream that had been shocked into reality by the contrast of the safety, the security, and the normality of the Briens' home. The numbness that had settled in since they left the burning cabin so many hours ago had been ripped away and replaced by emptiness, and nothingness, save the fear of the unknown that lay ahead.

Mary held Treasa's head to her chest as she wept. “Séamus had no choice; he did what had to be done. It'll be fine dear; you'll see, things will turn out all right.”

“No, it won't. It can't.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “They won't even know what's happened to us.”

“Who?”

“My parents. Oh, they'll learn what happened, but not the truth. What Séamus did will be in the papers, but the English own the presses. And they'll only know what's become of us if we're captured.”

Mary held Treasa's head between her hands, and looked into her watery eyes. “We can fix that. Write them a letter, and I'll send it off for you.”

She pulled out the desk drawer beside Treasa, and withdrew several sheets of paper along with a pen and a bottle of scarlet ink. Treasa's crying started to subside, more from having nothing left in her tear ducts than actually feeling any better. Mary laid the sheets of paper one on top of another upon the desk, she sat the ink beside it, and unscrewed its top. Treasa thanked her, and took a moment to compose herself before taking up the pen.


Séamus sat down the pen and glanced over at Aidan who was throwing fresh logs onto the fire. Séamus picked up the paper and read, “'All animals bearing the brand of Séamus J. Kelley are hereby transferred to Aidan Brien for valuable consideration received.' And I've dated it for yesterday.”

Aidan sat back down at the table. “Sounds like everythin's in order then.” He laid a sum of money on the center of the table beside the 'receipt'. His gaze returned to Séamus. “What'd you do with all the chattel you didn't bring with you?”

“Burned it, along with the cabin. It's bad enough one of them will be living on my land; I won't have an Englishman living in my home as well. They've taken enough.” Séamus said bitterly.

“Has been their way for the last three-hundred years; the 'Act of Union' just made it legal. The British won't rest until the rest of the world is as obsessed with greed as they are. Money, power, resources; they'll never have enough to satisfy their insatiable hunger.” Aidan said in disgust.

Séamus took another drink, warming his chest. “I just want my family to be able to live in peace. In America, that might be possible; even if today had not taken place, I know now that would never happen here.”

Aidan cleared his throat. “I remember as a boy my father telling me about the rebellion of 98'. How we nearly drove them from our shores. I recall playing soldier, and taking on their armies single handedly. I believed wholeheartedly that our country would one day be ours again.” He took another puff from his pipe before laying it to rest on the table. “Boyhood fantasies die hard.”


Treasa folded the four page letter into thirds before handing it to Mary. Just getting it all out on paper- what had happened, what was planned, and that everyone was safe- seemed to make everything better. Treasa was sure her parents would be relieved after they read it. The future suddenly looked several shades brighter than it did before.

“I’ll be sure to send it off next time we go to town,” Mary said as she slipped the letter into an envelope.

“Thank you, Mary. I’m glad you suggested I write it. I couldn’t endure them not ever knowing.”

Connell had finally fallen asleep as his mother wrote, and Mary had rocked him back and forth in her arms. He now lay peacefully slumbering on the bed wrapped in his blanket, his eyes moving rapidly beneath their lids. Mary sat down on the bed beside him carefully so as not to rouse him.

“Have you seen the McKibbens lately?” Mary asked.

“No, I’ve not.”

“Ronan received a letter from his cousin Liam. They’re doing well in America; they’ve settled in a place called Jersey. His brother has a hog farm there that Liam’s been working on.”

“How’s Sháuna, and the kids?”

“Getting along well. She’s found work in a factory not far from the farm. Only,” Mary hesitated.

“What?” Treasa inquired.

“At the time, their youngest had taken ill. It’d been three days and her fever hadn’t broken yet.” She noticed the look of concern on Treasa’s face, and added, “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be sure to add her to my prayers.” Treasa looked over at Connell. She couldn’t imagine, or perhaps she just didn’t want to, what it would be like to have to watch him suffer and be able to do nothing to prevent it.


The shadows the fire cast danced across the faces of the two men seated at the table; the crackling of the wood resounded off the cabin walls. Aidan finished off the last of his drink before leaning back in his chair. “When were you last in town?” he asked.

“I don't know; it's been twelve days, I think.” Séamus replied. “Why?”

“You haven't heard the news from America then; it was in the papers the day before yesterday. You remember those radicals in the southern part of the country that overran that fort 'bout two months ago? Fort Summer, or something like that.”

“Sure.”

“Well, the conflict wasn't quelled as easily as everyone thought it would be- far from it. The radicals have gained support from four more states' governing bodies. The American congress has drafted a proposal for an additional five hundred thousand men for their armies.”

Séamus sighed. “Oh, terrific.” Political turbulence was nothing new to him. “What's it all over?”

“Taxes mostly, as most I can figure. Politics to an extent as well. Most of the southern part of the country is in a right fit over that new leader that took office.”

“Are they having rebellions throughout the country then?”

“No, not throughout. It all seems to be localized to the southern parts. The worst of it is how organized they all are; whole states are outraged and calling to secede. If only we could be so organized against the British.”

“It'd never happen. We won't stop fighting amongst ourselves long enough to present a united front against the Brits.”

“Aye, 's true.”


Morning came more swiftly than anyone would have liked, leaving them all groggy and wanting of sleep. Séamus stepped outside to relive himself, shielding his yet unadjusted eyes from the sun rising over the hills in the east. It was a bright and clear day, good weather for traveling. This was fortunate, considering the amount of miles they would need to travel. Treasa, having finished feeding Connell, walked out the cabin door with the infant in her arms and her pack on her back. She was followed out shortly thereafter by Mary, and then Aidan. Séamus joined them, picking up his pack, and the rifle from beside the door. He thanked Aidan and Mary again, and Treasa followed suit.

Aidan took Séamus aside. “I do owe you something for the rest of those sheep. Hopefully you won't have to use it.” He handed Séamus an old single shot pistol along with six extra rounds, and a small amount of powder. “If you don't mind my asking, where are you headed?”

“My brother lives in Kilkenny. I'm hoping we can make it there by nightfall. From there, we'll try to make port in Queenstown.”

“If any soldiers come 'round asking questions, I'll make sure to tell them you mentioned something about going to Dublin a few days ago.”

Séamus and Treasa said their goodbyes before starting off due south.


Authors Note: Chapter 4 is now available if you would like to read it. It can be found in my portfolio (Richard T. Clark ), or here: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1248313