Free Falling (25 page)

Couldn’t the storm have held off just one day?

Four men sat their horses and alternately watched her and the skies. One—a big fellow named Bill—would stay behind to protect the women and children.

It wasn’t early. Sarah hadn’t been sure if that mattered and Donovan didn’t seem to have an opinion on it.

“D’ya think I have experience in this sort of thing?” he had responded sourly when she queried him.

No one had experience in any of the things they were lately being called upon to do, Sarah thought, least of all her.

She glanced back at the black hulk that was once their cottage. Just thinking about Dierdre and the loss of her was enough to make Sarah want to slide out of her saddle and return to her cold bedroll in the barn. The feisty little Irishwoman had been Sarah’s emotional mainstay since the crisis had happened. Whether it had been leek and kidney pies or tips on carding wool or common sense advice on how to keep her worries about John’s safety at bay, Sarah didn’t feel she’d ever find a dearer or more valuable friend.  

While the men checked and rechecked their tack and guns and studied the weather, Sarah closed her eyes and prayed.

The further he got from the camp, the harder David ran, unmindful of the noise he was making as he crashed through the dense woods. From what he’d heard last night around the campfire, he was fairly certain he knew the direction that Sarah’s party was coming. If they were on horseback as was generally assumed, they’d have to come down either the main road or across the pastures. Because he didn’t know the area or the trails, David ran parallel to the main road and away from the gypsy camp.

His arm, mended but not strong, hung at an unnatural angle to his body as he ran.

His mind raced.

Would he be able to hear Sarah’s group on the road? Would he be able to identify them? It didn’t make sense that Sarah would actually be with them but Finn seemed convinced she would be. Would they shoot first when he hailed them?

Would this nightmare ever be over?

David stumbled against a root and caught himself from plowing face first into the ground. His breathing was coming in short, ragged gasps but he was afraid to stop and rest. He needed to get distance from himself and the camp. Even that drunken, lazy crowd had probably noticed his absence by now.  

He forced a long breath into his lungs and, exhaling, pushed himself off a small sapling for momentum.

“Whoa, sport. Where would ye be heading now?”

The words were as friendly as the tone was deadly.

David froze.

Brendan came through the bushes ahead of David, a smile on his face that never reached his eyes.

“Making a run for it, Yank?”

“And so, I want to thank each of you,” Sarah said, wiping the perspiration from the palms of her hands on her jeans and gripping the reins tightly. “I know that you know we can’t live with this group of…of cowards and murderers virtually in our midst and that without any police to protect us, we need to step forward and deal with it.”

The men listened passively and for a moment Sarah found herself wondering if they only spoke Gaelic although she knew that wasn’t true. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the wives standing by the cook fire in jeans and running shoes. The woman stood with her hands on her hips staring directly at Sarah. It was not a friendly stare.

Why
were
they doing this? She looked at Donovan who was still watching the storm clouds move in.
Were they really risking their lives just because Donovan asked them to?

The night before she told herself she didn’t care why the men came with her, as long as they did. She would worry about morals and why and all that once she had David back with her. In fact, now that she thought about it, she realized that once David was back, she wouldn’t need to think about it. Unless…she looked at the glowering wife again. Unless some of them didn’t come back. Was she asking this woman to risk her husband so that Sarah could retrieve her own? Was this just another case of the rich American’s needs and wants trumping everyone else’s?

Why were these thoughts invading her head now of all times?

In exasperation, Sarah jerked Dan’s head away from the center of the camp and pushed him forward with her legs.

I can’t think about any of this right now, she thought. Let’s just do this.

From what Donovan had told her, she figured it was at least a thirty-minute ride to where the gypsies were camped out at an abandoned neighboring farm. Sarah didn’t want to lose the one advantage they had—the surprise factor—and so she’d suggested to Donovan that they not ride in a group but in spaced-out single file. He seemed fine with the suggestion.

She was grateful for the man. He was a natural leader and the men in the camp, even the older ones, clearly all looked to him to tell them what to do in this new and uncertain world after the crisis.

As she led Dan out of the camp at a walk, she caught John’s eye as he stood next to the little cart pony Ned. He waved to her but didn’t smile. She had hugged him fiercely not five minutes before she mounted up. Leaving him again left her with a sick feeling and she had to remind herself, nearly by the minute, that what she was doing—as unnatural as it felt—was in fact bringing her family back together again. She waved to him and forced a smile.

Dear God, please don’t let this be the last time I see him.

David stared at the rope winding tighter and tighter around his wrists. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him but, except to bind his hands, Brendan hadn’t touched him. The sickening feeling of being so close, in his mind, to ending this nightmare and then landing right back in it made him want to vomit.

“Sorry to ruin your plans for the day, mate,” Brendan said jovially as he cinched the hemp handcuffs tighter. “Finn thought you might try something like this, today of all days, you know? Not that I appreciate being awakened by a bucket of piss being thrown on me. That’s thanks to you.”

David looked at the man. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“Do I look worried?” Brendan said, giving the lead rope attached to David’s hands a hard yank to test its security. “Now, I may smell a little raw…” He laughed heartily at his own joke and then indicated the path back to the camp.

“You don’t have to do this,” David found himself saying. “You don’t have to do everything that sociopath tells you to do, Brendan.”

“Feet moving, if you please, Yank,” Brendan said, tugging on the lead rope. “I’ll drag you behind me all the way if I have to but neither of us’ll be happy about it.”

“He threw a bucket of piss on you, you said.” David began to move in the direction of the camp. “Why would you willingly be his house slave?”

“Unlike yourself, we don’t have slaves in Ireland,” Brendan said.

“Clearly, you do,” David said. “I’m talking to one now.”

“Aw, shite, I was hoping we could stay friends a little longer. Name calling me isn’t a way to do that.”

“Neither is tying up people, Brendan.” David held up his hands to illustrate the point.

“Guess that means we’re not really friends,” Brendan said.

Because Sarah had been thinking of John when she heard the shout, the first thing that came, irrationally, to her mind, was that he had somehow gotten hurt in the brief moments since she had last seen him. She had ridden to the perimeter of the west wall that surrounded their little farm, but she wheeled her horse around and cantered back to the forecourt, looking frantically for the sight of her son.

What she saw, instead, was bad. All three of the men in the group were dismounted and huddled around a form on the ground. Sarah stayed mounted, the better to get a view of what had happened now that she knew it didn’t involve John. Donovan’s horse was running wildly back and forth in the open paddock, his reins streaming in front of him with each pounding step a threat to become entangled in them.

“What happened?” she yelled to the group. She could see now it was Donovan on the ground.

He wasn’t moving.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Can this really be happening?

Sarah sat on a hay bale, cupping a tin of piping hot milkless tea. Donovan’s horse had spooked nearly an hour earlier leaving him with a broken arm and the raiding party drinking tea by a quickly waning breakfast fire. Sarah had to admit the tea tasted good against the bad day. The storm clouds, while still threatening, had held off their rain so far. John sat next to her. He seemed to be watching her.

“You okay, Mom?”

She reached over and gave his knee a squeeze.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “Just a little wound up, I guess, because of what happened to Mr. Donovan.”

“But you’re still going, right?” He looked at her anxiously.

“Yes, John,” she said. “Dad’s there and so I’m still going.”

“Is it…will it be more dangerous without Mr. Donovan?”

Sarah could see his problem. He desperately wanted his Dad back but the odds of losing his Mother too just went up significantly. And yet, to do nothing…

“It would be better with him, of course,” Sarah said. “But being sneaky will make up for the lack of numbers, I think.”

“You’re not taking this theory about being sneaky from some television show, are you?” He frowned at her. “‘Coz I’m almost positive the writers didn’t get their information from first-hand experience, you know?” John shook his head and looked at her. “I’m worried, Mom,” he said. “You don’t seem to have a plan and now with Mr. Donovan out of the picture...”

“I have a plan,” Sarah said, tossing the dregs of her tea mug into the dirt behind her. “Who says I don’t have a plan?”

“Really?” The relief in his face buoyed her even though she knew, intellectually, that it was relief based on a hope that had no basis in fact.

She leaned over and hugged him.

“It’s all going to work out, sweetheart,” she said. “It is.”

It is because it has to.

“Missus?”

Sarah let John go and looked up at Gavin standing before her.

 “Me Da says he’d like to talk to you before we head out, if that’s okay.”

“Is he in much pain?” Sarah got to her feet and, with a brief parting smile to John, followed Gavin into the barn.

“I guess so,” he said. “Kinda hard to tell, him being so cheesed off the best of times.”

Sarah let her eyes adjust to the darkened barn interior. Gavin took his fully tacked horse out of the one of the stalls and led it outside. Donovan was lying in one of the empty stalls, hay piled around him. Fiona walked out of the stall carrying two empty tea mugs. Sarah assumed they must have just finished a long chat.

Fiona smiled at her as she passed.

“He’s not happy, you’ll be knowing that straightaway, aye?”

Sarah nodded and returned her smile. She entered the stall and saw Donovan propped up against the far corner. His arm was in a sling but whether anyone in the camp had known enough to set the bone, she didn’t know and decided against asking him. His eyes were closed. She came in quietly and knelt down in front of him.

“Hey, Mike,” she said softly. “How you doing?”

Stupid question of course.

His eyes opened and the peace she thought she saw in his face when they were closed vanished. A grimace of pain shot across his features.

“I assume you’re still going,” he said.

“Nothing’s really changed,” she said. “Except, maybe, our odds.”

Donovan looked at her fiercely and spoke in a low voice.

“Put Gavin and Aidan in trees when you get to the camp, yeah?”

“Trees. Right.”

“They’re the best shots. And they’re the ones with the rifles. They can keep the camp pinned down or at least hiding in the house. Gypsies are famous cowards.”

“Cowards. Got it.”

“Don’t be thinking you can waltz into the camp and
parlez
or some such stupid thing, eh?” Donovan glowered at her. “This isn’t a movie. If you show yourself, you’ll be shot. If not by Finn then by one of his gobshites wanting to show off for him.”

“Don’t show myself. Right.” Sarah nodded and watched him with concern. She knew he was in pain and they had nothing, not even an aspirin, for it. It made her think about what other kinds of first aid they might need by the end of the day.

“So,” she said. “I got two of my guys in trees, that leaves me and…”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy.” She nodded. “I don’t show myself…so, how do I..?”

“Once Gavin and Aidan are in place, they should be able to take out at least a dozen. All hell will break loose in the camp as the bastards try to find out where the shots are coming from and where to hide.”

“Then I make my move,” she said.

Donovan nodded tiredly.

“I suggest you keep Jimmy back to help as he sees the need and where and, if things go bad, to come back and warn us.”

“I see. Yes, that’s sensible. You haven’t come to my part, yet.”

Donovan looked at her.

“Does he know how much you love him?” he asked. “Would he do this for you, do you think?”

Sarah sighed and picked up Donovan’s uninjured hand.

“If there’s a future for me and David in this life,” she said, “I intend to make sure he knows how much he means to me. In my world back home, who he and I were as a couple kind of got lost, you know?” Donovan just listened, his eyes never leaving her face. “We started out as I guess most people madly in love do. We had dreams of the kind of life we would make for ourselves and any kids we had. And it seems impossible to believe right now, the way I feel and the way the world looks to me now, but somewhere along the way he and I lost touch. Somewhere between all the running around we did to keep John’s life on track, school and sports and such, and our own jobs which seemed so important back then, we started going through the motions with each other. It’s hard for me to believe that the thing I now see as the most important thing in my life was the thing that got pushed into the background noise of the life I was making.”