1863 Saratoga Summer Read online

  Finn’s heart filled with sadness. One of his sons must…

  They appeared in the distance. Finn shook his head to chase his dour mood away. With pride, not unlike Connor’s, he watched the young men leap the pasture fences with an agility born to them. Each stopped long enough to pat every grazing horse they passed, before they met in the center of the biggest field. There, they jostled and shoved each other around in their usual roughhouse ways.

  Finn carefully studied them, committing to memory each and every precious feature. They were of the same sturdy stature—tall, with corded muscles thick and deep from daily dealings with the land and the animals. Their coloring, different for each one, was not unlike their rainbow temperaments—from fiery red-headed, green-eyed Egan, the youngest, to enigmatic, dark brown-haired, dark-eyed Connor, the eldest at thirty-one.

  He watched them enter the house and knew they would clean up before entering the library. When he heard the shuffle of their feet in the hallway, he turned to face the library door.

  ~*~

  Connor stood framed in the doorway of the library, his hand resting on the doorknob and his brothers elbowing him to see past his shoulders into the room. He peered in and located his da in the glare of a tall sunny window, half-hidden by a heavy curtain. Connor saw his father’s serious, gray face, streaked with tears. The man had important things on his mind, important things to say to them all no doubt.

  With a smile, Finn stepped forward and gestured. “Come in lads, come in. Sit ye down. I’m having a sore need to talk with ye. In a most straight-forward fashion as is my wont.”

  Connor took note of his father’s tone of voice and hesitantly stepped into the room. The four others filed in behind him, concerned with their usual poking, shoving and trying to get past their older, larger brother, who turned sharply and frowned.

  Finn stood in the middle of the room, waving them in as if in a hurry to talk to them. “Hurry in, boyos. Don’t be playing about with yer usual antics.”

  The twins and Egan, the three youngest, looked at each other then swiveled around to look at Connor, who shrugged. They each must have perceived something unusual in their da’s demeanor, for they came in quickly and settled themselves, according to age, in chairs lined against the wall, just as they did while children.

  Each looked expectantly at their father, who continued to wave at them. “Nae, boyos. Bring yer chairs closer. Be drawing them into a warm, comfortin’ circle. ‘Tis a family thing, this is.”

  The scrape of chairs filled the small room, the sound somewhat muted in the thick covers of leather-bound books crowding the bookcases. Finn waited until they were settled and grouped together facing him. “We’re going to have a lottery, boyos.”

  “A lottery?” Connor’s eyes widened, surprised, not understanding the message. He stared at his younger brothers, who always trusted him to come up with answers. Again, he shrugged. He was baffled, with no concrete answers about this rare situation.

  “A lottery. That’s what da said. Don’t be dense, Con,” said Egan, the youngest brother, whose face now matched the brilliant carrot-red shade of his hair.

  He spoke with a touch more animosity than Connor would have accepted under ordinary circumstances. Perhaps he, too, noticed their da’s serious demeanor.

  Finn coughed loudly, capturing their attention. “Aye, a lottery it’s to be. Ye see, boyos, there’s a friend, a Brennan, who once gave your great-great-great—Dammit, I don’t know how many greats. But ‘tis one of yer forefathers, afore there were real O’Malleys, I’m thinking.”

  Finn’s hesitant manner and downcast eyes belied what his smile conveyed. Da is not being truthful, Connor thought. “Is this to be a history lesson about our forefathers, Da? If so, I’ll pass. I’ve work to do with the horses and the trees,” Connor grumbled, half rising from his seat, while glaring at his brothers.

  “Sit down lad,” Finn growled. “I must tell this to you all, and all together. I’m wanting no blame put here on anyone but circumstance.”

  Finn stared down at them with what Conner considered his sternest mien, so Connor smiled, hoping to lighten the terse words he’d spoken. “Well, hurry, Da. The bay mare is in season. I’d like to be putting the stallion to her afore this day is out.”

  “Ye best hear the whole story as I know it. ‘Tis an important piece of O’Malley history that must be fulfilled if we are to persevere.” His father looked down at the floor then raised his head with deliberate slowness before beginning. “In the fifteen hundreds or so, the chief of a Brennan clan saved one of us O’Malleys from the gallows.” He sighed softly. “‘Twas a Grace O’Malley, daughter of a chief, and a foolish woman I’m thinking. Fighting the English, or something, she was. A deal was made then and there for an O’Malley to come to the aid of a Brennan should a severe and odd emergency exist.”

  “I take it from your expression, Da, that such an emergency exists,” said the more serious of Connor’s blond twin brothers, Arlen who sat shoulder to shoulder with his brother, Darren, like a mirror image. They both had their hands clasped together in front of them, elbows on their knees. “How does it affect us, Da? Is that why you called us together?”

  “Right to the penny, son. It seems a Brennan has fallen upon hard times.” Finn shook his head up and down in agreement. “Powerful hard times.”

  “Harder than the famine itself?” asked the slender, light brown-haired son, Bartley, who was only a year younger than Connor.

  “Aye. A widow woman is to lose a child entrusted to her by her deceased husband. That is, if her husband’s in-laws have their way. I believe they’ve threatened to drag her through some sort of legal do, but I guess ‘tis a long story. I don’t know the whole of it. Besides, ‘tis for the widow to relate if she chooses.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do? We’ve no lawyers among us,” Connor asked, suspicious of the story told to his father, thinking it strange indeed. All the brothers nodded in response.

  “Are there no O’Malleys nearby to help the poor woman out?” Egan asked.

  “Doesn’t she have folks of her own?”

  When his da shook his head in answer to both questions, Connor asked, “What would you have us do to help?”

  “Marry the widow, I presume,” Bartley said. He patted Connor’s back and shook his head as if mimicking their da.

  Finally realizing the full import of the situation—the widow woman, the lottery—Connor leaped to his feet. “What are you talking about?” He stared at his father. “Da? Ye’re not telling us a wee tale, are ye? How could any of us take care of a woman with a child when we can barely take care of our horses, our villagers and ourselves? ‘Tis a foolish scheme ye have, old man.”

  “I’ll not be telling ye again. Sit, Connor! Ye may be within yer thirty years, but ‘tis respect ye’ll be showing for yer da. And ‘tis no foolish scheme, I’ll have ye know.”

  Finn stood with his arms crossed over his chest and waited. Connor sat down. He scowled at his father then at his brothers.

  The younger of the blond twins quipped, “Now, lads, show some consideration for a poor unfortunate who might be losing a child of her very heart. No doubt a wee one she has come to love with all her being.”

  “I apologize for my quick temper. But the shock was into me.” Connor said, trying to smile. “But we know you all-too-well, Da. You’ve a plan in mind.”

  With his mouth opened wide enough to stuff a full-grown bird in the round ‘o’ it made, the older twin turned to the rest of the brothers, stared at them for a second then turned to their da. “’Tis one of us you’re fixing to marry off.”

  Connor spoke quickly. “Well, it won’t be me, for sure. Not right now at any rate. I need to keep breeding and training the horses we have in racing mode if we’re to match the English in Ireland’s racing scene. Once I beat them to a ‘fare thee well’ then maybe, just maybe, I’ll marry that sweet thing from the village, the very one I’ve had me eye on for the last few years. She’d be
a real help with the animals and I kinda’ fancy her.”

  His father paced to the windows, anger apparent in the redness of his face. He gulped once then turned and sauntered back, seemingly relaxed. He stood directly in front of the twins. “Ye’re right, boyos. Marriage in the offing. That’s why we’ll be having a lottery. Ye’ll each start out equal in this.”

  Finn paused and moved off in another direction but he kept talking as if he couldn’t stop. “‘Tis a deed that must be done. Was promised way back when. The Brennans did for us, now we’ll do for them, just as our forefathers would have done. As I would do, were I a younger fella’.”

  Finn pointed to a small oak table at one side of the room’s stone hearth. “There are five pieces of straw placed on the table. Drawn from one of our own bales they were. Different lengths, each and every one.”

  Aware of the drama of the scene but still wary of what he considered a false tale, Connor watched his da slowly pick up the straws.

  Finn laid several in his hand. Glancing briefly at his sons, he made a fist and pushed all the straws down into it. What could be seen were mere pieces, all the same length, one undistinguishable from another.

  Connor’s attention was riveted on Finn’s hand. All the straws were level at the top, each one facing in a different direction. This is not right, he thought.

  “Well, now, boyos, ye’re going to do this. ‘Tis an obligation secured for a lengthy time and it’s fallen to us O’Malley’s to equal the original favor.”

  No one moved. Still as cats ready to pounce or run, all the brothers sat, staring at their feet. A premonition took hold of Connor. A chill passed over him. He looked up and drew a large breath. He knew his father would not have any of them shirking of their duty. One brother had to ‘pay the piper’ and repay a deed done in kindness. Never let it be said an O’Malley didn’t live up to his honor-bound duty.

  “Well there, Connor. Ye were in such a hurry to stand earlier. Have ye no feet, except to look at?” his father asked. “Stand up lad. Ye’re the biggest and the eldest. It’s up to ye to decide whether the shortest or the longest straw gains a wife and a child. Choose long or short.”

  “Long.”

  “Long, it is. Whichever of ye boyos gets the longest straw will marry the lass and sail to America on the quickest ship to go there.”

  Egan leaped to his feet to stand next to Connor. “Sail to America? What do you mean by that?”

  “Whoever gets the long straw will marry here in Ireland with a priest in attendance so that the marriage vows are approved and sealed by the church. But the widow-woman lives in America. It’ll be a proxy wedding, but ye’ll have to go to America in order to consummate the marriage, proper-like. She can’t travel over here. The folks causing her problems want to keep the tyke and won’t let her take him out of their sight, much less to Ireland.”

  “To America?” Egan’s face grew redder than his hair. His light green eyes doubled in size. He whispered, “I heard ‘tis a terrifyin’ trip. To America.” Then he raised his voice louder. “Besides, I’m too young to be marrying some stranger.”

  “Nae, don’t ye get any ideas, my lad. Ye’ll choose like your brothers do.” Finn shook his fist at Egan.

  “We’ll all choose,” Bartley said, slightly backing away from the rest..

  “Aye, we will, Da, but Connor first.” Arlen turned to Connor. “Hurry up, Con. Choose a straw. Go ahead. You’re the oldest.”

  Connor spun around. “You’re in such an all-fired hurry, you draw. You’re not the only one who wants to stay here, at home, in Ireland. America be damned.”

  “I’ll be having no battles over this, lads. It’ll be done right and proper. Connor, ye’re the oldest of me sons. Ye have the right to choose whether ye want to go first and pick or go last and have the final straw yer brothers might be leaving in their wake.”

  Connor moved next to his da. He stood head and shoulders above him and glowered down at him.

  Finn was not in the least intimidated. “Stop yer dark faces at me, Connor, laddie, and choose yer fate.”

  Connor studied the straws in his da’s hand then picked the straw farthest from him. He shoved it behind his back so quickly his Da couldn’t see it. Nor did Connor want to look it. The tips of his fingers grew warm. The straw seemed to burn a trail of fire into his hand.

  “Now, Connor, don’t be breaking the straw so it’s shorter. I’m watching ye careful-like,” Bartley quipped, stepping forward to pick next.

  The others stepped forward and drew according to their ages. When it was Egan’s turn, he bounced forward and took the last one. He didn’t put it behind him. He opened his fingers and stared down at the brittle yellow piece. “Mine is short.” He gave a chuckle then his face paled. “Da, why are we doing this? None of us is wanting to go. Not me brothers, nor me. I, for one, would hate to be marrying so young. To a stranger. ‘Tis a hard thing you’re asking.”

  The younger of the blond twins whispered in Eagan’s ear. “‘Tis the long straw that goes to America.” He opened his fist and displayed another short straw.

  Egan ignored him and continued, “But since I have no lass in mind, any will do. I’ll sacrifice myself for one of me brothers and go to America.”

  “That’ll be the day. When you sacrifice yourself for one of us,” Connor retorted with a grin. “It would be a first. So hush now and let Da speak.”

  Finn ignored them both. “All of ye, put yer straws on the table in the order ye drew them. Connor, you go.”

  Each straw placed on the table was shorter than the first. They all turned to look at Connor. He backed away from the table when he realized his was the longest straw. “Aye, Da. You’ve made your point. I’d be doing the deed but how am I to leave the horses?”

  Egan shouted, “Aye. Who’s going to train the horses?”

  Connor shouted back. “I will. I’ll take them all with me. I could not go without them.” All the air left his body and his voice softened. “I’ve worked so hard to keep them well-bred and sturdy. They’re me life, Da.”

  Finn started to disagree but raised his hand instead.

  “At least, would I be able to take the stallion and our best mare?” Connor asked, his voice loud and forceful, as if he couldn’t stop talking, “Our villagers are doing well, better than most of Ireland. We did our best to save everyone during the famine. ‘Tis not that I’m swell-headed.” Connor sat, leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head to his hands. In a pathetic whisper of lost hope, he moaned, “But I cannot leave the horses. I just can’t. Some must go with me—or I’ll not go, I’m telling you.”

  Egan faced his older brother, his hands on his hips, his legs splayed. “You can take a stallion. Not the mares. There must be mares in America. Besides, you don’t know how to handle a mare, anymore than you know how to handle the lasses. Females are different. They’re sensitive. You can’t boss them around like you do all of us.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Egan. You seldom do,” Connor snapped, his lip curled in distaste.

  Egan’s expression changed. The color in his face leached out.

  Connor was sure Egan would say something he’d regret. He gave him a dark look, hoping to stay his words for the time being.

  Egan kept on. “I can imagine how you’ll handle the widow you’re to marry. You don’t know anything about females.”

  “And I suppose you do, Egan. How come you don’t have any of the village lasses chasing after you when we go to market?” Connor shot Egan a malicious, one-sided grin.

  “You just don’t see them, ye bloody fool. You’re too busy looking at the horse flesh,” Egan spat back.

  Connor jumped up. He suspected their argument would escalate into a battle were it not stopped but he couldn’t give in to this feisty, smaller brother. Not now. He noticed Bartley had moved closer to the two antagonists and the twins further away.

  “Both of ye. Enough!” Finn interrupted with a loud snarling grunt. “Yer d
arling mother died too young. She never had the chance to socialize ye properly once ye were grown, much less teach any of ye the wonder and glory of a good and caring woman. She’ll live on in our memories, from this day, in shame if ye continue yer silly battles.”

  At the mention of their mother, they stopped moving and bowed their heads. Each made the sign of the cross. Their mother’s memory was dear and sacred to them all.

  Without raising his head, Connor knew his da had their attention now. Somehow, he understood his time of happiness had come and gone in the space of a moment. The little people had made a mockery of his over-bearing sense of pride. It was time for him to pay the piper.

  Bartley moved to stand by Connor and said, “Con, ye’d be pressed trying to take the stallion and any mare of yer choosing and handling a new wife, a child and a new country. Besides, all of us would lose out as well if ye took them with ye. The horses fit our lives, too.”

  Finn uttered a sharp gasp and snapped his fingers as if he had a wonderful idea. The lines in his forehead smoothed out but he hesitated. He turned to look at each of them. “Listen to yer da, son. It’s a long voyage to America and ye don’t know what conditions ye’ll be facing, Connor, me boyo. Trying to handle a stallion and a mare that might come into season during the voyage will tear ye down and them as well.”

  One side of Finn’s mouth creased upward and he broke into a smile. “Instead, take Egan with ye. He’s been bustin’ to go to America since he was but a wee mite. He was ready when the first group left the village in ’48 and him only a lad of nine.”

  “Take Egan? Toss him into the sea on the way, no doubt. I’d probably kill him before we landed.” Connor glanced at his youngest brother. He studied him. Egan would make good company and a willing hand if horses were involved in America. And horses had to be in his future…He made a half-turn away.