Smoldering Dreams (Chp 2)

Authors Note: I would strongly suggest you read chapter 1 first if you have not already, or else you will be lost. Chapter 1 can be found in my portfolio (Richard T. Clark ), or here: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1218028


It took only seconds for the waves of shock to finish crashing over Séamus, and a mixture of anxiety and revulsion at the sight of the soldier's body to settle deep within the pit of his stomach. A plan of action took hold in his mind, and he could already see himself performing the steps necessary to bring the plan to fruition as he took his first step towards Connell. Séamus lifted him up from the floor, taking note that while upset, he appeared relatively unscathed as Séamus wrapped him in the woolen blanket Treasa had knitted while she was pregnant.

Returning the cradle to its upright position he laid Connell within its' depths, and turned back to Treasa. He raised her limp, unconscious form from the floor, and laid her delicately upon the bed. A moan of discomfort issued from her mouth as she came to rest, but she did not rouse. He brushed her long red hair gently from her face. A pale blue bruise had already begun to swell above her left eye, and an inch long gash already beginning to coagulate was prominent on her soft, pale cheek.

Séamus turned from her, and took a burlap sack from a pile in the corner near the bed. Taking a knife from the table he cut the seams of the sack from top to bottom, doubling the length of the material. He approached the soldier, burlap in hand, and bent down beside him. Lifting the strap of the man's rifle off his shoulder and over his head, Séamus set it to rest against the fireplace. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, he noticed three golden stars denoting a captain, on the red coat stained partially carmine with blood. He turned the still warm body over. The officer's hazel-green eyes stared blankly up at him as he moved his hand over them to close their lids. Covering the body with the cloth, and tucking it's edges beneath the captain, Séamus stood up and walked to the door.

Just outside the door he grasped a bucket of oak and iron, and began to make his way to the well fifteen yards ahead. The song of the birds perched in nearby trees seemed to mock Séamus' despair, and for the first time since he heard Treasa's scream break the air, he was overwhelmed. His legs felt as though they were nothing more than flesh without bone to support him; he fell to his knees unable to take another step. He began to pray; for the first few moments words escaped him, unable to express what was in his heart, then, "God, forgive me...you know there has never been a desire in me to take any man's life, I do not have the right to take what I can't give... Please lord, I ask you to have mercy upon his soul, as he was unable to repent for his last sin on this earth... Please guide me and keep safe my wife and son... In the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost, Amen."

Whether or not by the hand of the almighty, the prayer seemed to give him strength. The birds’ song was now less pungent, and a warm, friendly breeze blew in from the south, beckoning. He found his legs again, and continued on to the well. Securing a fathoms long line to the handle he lowered the pail into the depths of the well. The sun broke free of the clouds in the western sky, and blanketed him in rays of light as he drew the water. He retraced his steps back to the cabin, his right hand shimmering from the reflective surface of the pail’s contents with every other step.

Séamus opened the door to find the situation inside unchanged. He took an overturned chair from near the table, a cloth from atop the mantle, and sat down at Treasa’s side. Dipping a corner of the cloth into the fresh water, he lifted the cloth to her cheek, and called to her, “Treasa…”, a little louder, “Treasa”. Her eyes opened, for a moment a look of evident confusion shown on her face, then the memories of her last minutes of consciousness came flooding back.

She sat bolt upright, “Connell” she said urgently.

Séamus pushed her back down onto the bed. “He’s all right.”

“But the sold-… Séamus, you’re hurt!” she said undeterred, her voice full of concern.

He looked down, and noticed the blood on his clothes. “No, it’s not mine.” He glanced to his right; Treasa’s gaze followed, and she realized at once what was hidden beneath the mutilated sackcloth.

Her eyes did not waver from the body. “Séamus, no. My God, what did you do?”

He continued cleaning the cut on her cheek. “What was necessary,” he said monotonously.

She turned her eyes to him. “Necessary! Séamus, you killed him.”

“What choice did I have? Allow him to beat you into submission, and ravage you while I waited politely outside?!” He finished with her cheek and laid the cloth to hang on the side of the bucket.

Her breathing finally eased, “We’ve got to tell the authorities, we’ll explain what happened, and-”

Séamus cut her off. “It won’t matter, you know that. Regardless of why I did it, the verdict, and the sentence will be the same... There’s no such thing as justice for an Irishman in Éire.”

Treasa looked around their usually tidy home, items were strewn about everywhere, some shattered to pieces. Her eyes came to rest once again on the soldier’s burlap covered body. “What are we going to do?” she said in little more than a whisper.

“We must leave as soon as possible,” Séamus said with conviction. "How do you feel?”

“Sore... but otherwise, fine.” She moved her feet over the side of the bed, and placed them on the floor.

“Good.” Séamus stood up. “I need you to gather our things. We will need to travel light and quick, don't pack anything we don’t absolutely need.” She nodded in acknowledgment. Séamus walked to the door, and called over his shoulder that he would be right back. As he closed the door behind him he could see Treasa with Connell in her arms confirming his status of 'all right'.

Outside he made short work of depleting the wood pile, stacking the logs at the base of the cabin's outer walls. Had it been later in the year the supply would have been greater in preparation for winter. There was however enough to suit Séamus' purpose. Stacking the last log against the wall beside the door, he stood erect again. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and the charcoal black hair from his eyes. He heard the door's latch release. Treasa stood in the doorway, Connell still in her arms.

"I think we're ready." she said.

She retreated back inside, and Séamus followed. Two packs had been filled, and sat on the table, bulging with what would soon be their only material possessions. He walked to the fireplace, picked up the rifle, and slid it over his own shoulder. From the mantle he took a carved wooden box, and removed the engraved lid to reveal what money they had. Taking the coins from the box, he sighed, "We'll need more, just for passage on the ship... I'm going to have to sell off some of the flock before we'll be able leave."

"We can't go into town, to market, not now." Treasa said.

"I know, there are too many watchful eyes," he said bitterly.

She said with certainty, "We could trust the Briens. They'd never betray us."

"I'm not sure if Aidan could afford to buy me out, but I don't see any alternatives." Séamus replied. "We'll have to try him."

"We wouldn't compromise them, would we?" She inquired.

"No, the British wouldn't be able to prove they'd harbored us; only that I'd sold them head from my flock recently... The British won't suspect anything until tonight when he doesn't return to his unit's garrison. They won't begin to search for him until the morning, and they won't know what I've done until at least mid-day. We'll be half a day from the Briens by then." Séamus picked up a pack from the table. "We should be on the move soon."

"Okay." Treasa exited with Connell through the still open door, one of the packs strapped to her back.

Séamus took a broom from beside the fireplace, and thrusted the bristled end into the fire. He withdrew it, now aflame and pursued Treasa outside. He used the broom to light the logs he had laid, in several places along the cabin walls. It began to burn.

They started away from their previous home due south, the sun shining down on them occasionally from behind drifting clouds. As they reached the top of a hill Séamus looked back, on the horizon he could see what was his home continuing to smolder. Standing there he realized it was much more than that; it was his dream, his hopes for the future; it was Éire burning and dying in the distance. A squeal from Connell returned Séamus' attention to him and Treasa, now twenty feet away at the base of the hill. He caught up, and the three of them continued onward with little conversation. The seconds became minutes, the minutes stretched into hours.

The sun had set in a brilliance of gold, red, and violet nearly two hours ago. As they topped yet another knoll their destination was finally visible in the distance. Silhouetted against the numerous stars that doted the night sky, a two room cabin with smoke rafting from its chimney in the cool air. The moon, three quarters full, had provided adequate light for the Kelleys to complete their journey after the sunset. The shock of the few moments that had forever altered their lives had finally began to wane. They reached the doorstep, and Séamus rapped his knuckles on the heavy oak door.

A deep, coarse voice issued from within "Announce yourself!"

"Séamus and Treasa Kelley" he replied.

The door opened and the light from inside fell upon the 'would be' travelers.

Authors Note: Chapter 3 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/1239724