Cursed! Blood of the Donnellys

by Keith Ross Leckie

  “Oh, yes. You liked that. I caught him poaching on the estate. He was all charm and swagger. I caught him and…then he caught me.”

  Jenny groaned and slumped in an armchair.

  “Why doesn’t anything like that ever happen to me? Go on.”

  “Then he took me off to North America…said I’ll give you a new world and a new life…and that he did.” She hoped Jenny didn’t catch the slight sarcasm in her final words.

  “It’s so romantic!” Jenny exclaimed, but she noticed her mother’s face began to cloud with doubt. “Don’t you be nervous now. It’ll be fine.”

  “He’ll expect to find the girl he left. He’ll find me.”

  “Ma, he will fall on his knees and thank God when he sees the beautiful creature that awaits him.”

  Jenny suddenly came over from the armchair and hugged Johannah from behind and they laughed for a moment.

  “Go and sweep the kitchen.”

  “I did.”

  “Well go and sweep it again!”

  Jenny left with the broom. She was replaced a moment later by her eldest brother. Will came in and sat his tall slender body on the bed behind his mother, silent for a moment, his hands clasped between his knees, his large head lowered, staring at the floor. He really could have been a priest, Johannah mused.

  “We’re just heading out with the coach now to get ’im.”

  He raised his head and studied her reflection in the mirror as Jenny had.

  “You ready for this, Ma?”

  She smiled at the earnest concern in his face but didn’t reply.

  “It’s just I’ve heard stories about prison. What it does to a man. He’ll be changed.”

  “I know. So are we all. But we’ll make it work, Will. We’ll get through. We always do.”

  “Yes, we always do. You’re the inspiration for that, Ma.” He studied her for a moment. “All these years you always did what you had to do for us.”

  Will smiled, stood up, kissed the top of her head, patted her shoulder and left her alone. Johannah returned to the ruthless mirror again. The smooth little river stone from Ballymore with the flecks of red and green was on her dresser. She touched it for good luck. Jim was coming home.

  * * *

  Michael, with Will beside him, took the Donnelly stagecoach at double speed down Main Street heading east as they left the Central Hotel where the paddy wagon had brought Jim Donnelly for his release. The Donnelly coach, with Jim inside, sported ribbons and bows again and the four Arabians had been brushed from their full manes and silky coats to the long feathers of their forelegs. James and Patrick escorted the coach proudly on horseback, as outriders on either side.

  The boys had only seen their father for a moment as he cursed his guards goodbye and carried a small sack of belongings from the prison wagon to their coach. He stopped in front of Will for a moment—his hard eyes, buried in a full beard, studying his son. Will barely recognized him.

  “Will?”

  “Yes, Da. It’s me.”

  Will wanted to embrace him but something held him back. He extended a hand and they shook, he with enthusiasm and affection.

  “It’s good to see you, Da.”

  “Is your mother well?”

  “Yes! We all are. They’re waiting for you. See our brand-new stagecoach? You can ride like a king. The Donnellys are a going concern and we—”

  “Take me home,” his father cut him off as he climbed into the coach, where he remained silent and hidden behind the curtains inside. It must be hard for him, Will thought, to have missed so much, but the family will lift his spirits.

  Beaming in the driver’s seat, Michael called out to his brothers, “Come on, boys! Let the parish know, Mr. James Donnelly Sr. is back!”

  “Our da is free!”

  “Whooooooo, whooooooo! The Donnellys are together again!”

  James and Patrick pulled out the pistols they had brought for the occasion and began firing them into the air. Passersby paused on the boardwalks of Lucan to watch the noisy entourage pass. Most knew what they were seeing. At the Central Hotel the response had been muted, but as they went by Fitzhenry’s tavern there were a few cheers and waves. Chief Constable Fitzhenry—still very active, though an older man now—decided to let the illegal discharge of firearms within town limits go by. Will was sure Fitzhenry had bigger concerns about his father’s return, with friends of Pat Farrell still around.

  On the edge of town going east on Main Street they passed the O’Connors’ little house on the south side and the grand 260-acre farm with the pillared house of Martin McLaughlin, who had testified with such bias against Jim fifteen years before. James and Patrick hollered and fired a few more rounds at the bottom of his lane. Will could see McLaughlin watching from his front porch.

  Father Connolly watched too, standing in the doorway of St. Patrick’s at the crossroads. As they passed, Will tipped his hat. Connolly stood as still as a scarecrow. Then the diligence took the corner at St. Patrick’s from Main north onto the Roman Line far too fast and might have been lost in the hands of a lesser driver—they almost lost Will. Michael steadied the coach in time to give a returning wave to a few men outside Keefe’s tavern across from St. Patrick’s, a couple of them shouting their support, then the Donnelly team galloped north up the centre of the Roman Line with a long trail of dust rising up into the still air behind them. Patrick and James reloaded as they rode.

  The Donnelly coach passed the homesteads of the Flanagans, the Kennedys, the Tooheys, the Feehleys and the Carrolls. As they approached the Donnelly homestead on the west side of the Roman Line, Pat and Margaret Whalen were out hoeing in their garden a short distance from the road. When they heard the whooping and pistol shots that announced Jim Donnelly’s return, they rose from their labours, stretching their backs, and watched as the stagecoach and the Donnelly boys rode by. Will waved to them and they waved back, but Will noticed their apprehensive expressions, betraying mixed feelings. Were they worried about troubles in Lucan with Jim Donnelly back? Fifteen years was a long time to maintain the unrelieved thirst of vengeful minds. Will was confident the Donnellys would put those apprehensions to rest.

  The coach came wheeling into the yard and Will found himself seeing the place through his father’s eyes. The house had been extended twice since he left, framed in and painted. They now had a few young beef cattle in the corral and milk cows in the distant green pasture beyond the new outbuildings. His father should be very pleased with what they’d done. Will was proud to show him.

  Michael brought the rig to a dramatic stop in front of the porch, the outriders firing a couple of pistol shots, and Patrick hollered, “He’s back!”

  Robert, Tom and John stood on the porch in ebullient anticipation. Jenny came out of the house, took the hands of John and Robert and together they walked out to the stagecoach to greet their father. Patrick fired his last two shells and Jenny scolded him.

  “Patrick! Put that away now.”

  Patrick stuck his pistol into his belt. Michael hopped to the ground and with ceremony, placed a wooden milk crate below the door for their father to step down on. All of them came together in a half-circle a few feet from the coach door to give him room and stood still and silent, excited, waiting.

  After a moment, Will went forward, turned the handle and opened the door. From out of the darkness, their father emerged. He squinted into the afternoon sun, then stepped down on the crate and surveyed his farm. They were all struck silent to see that prison life had not been kind to their father. He was fully bearded and had an old knife gash from his temple to his mouth that had been broadly stitched. His hair was mostly grey and his face was now lined and significantly aged. There were elements of defiance, cunning and fear in his expression.

  Will stepped up to him and Jim turned his attention from the farm to his family. “Welcome home, Da.” />
  All joined in as the brothers and Jenny came forward.

  “Welcome home, Da! Welcome! Sure is good to see you. Welcome home!”

  Forming a line, each one spoke their name and shook his hand with enthusiasm. Jim Donnelly stared fiercely at each son and then finally at his daughter. “You’re my girl?”

  “I am! I’m Jenny,” she confirmed. “I don’t think we’ve met. Hello, Da.” She stepped forward, did a shallow curtsy and waited as he stared at her without moving. Finally she took his big broken hand in both of hers and squeezed it as he tried to smile.

  Her father looked away from her out to the old abandoned and derelict Farrell farmhouse, his face betraying some satisfaction there. There were cattle grazing on the old Farrell property.

  “Whose beasts are those?”

  “Ours, Da. We bought the Farrell place. We own all hundred acres now.” Will surveyed the house. “We left the house up. But we took down the fence.”

  His father nodded slowly as he considered this.

  James Jr. was eager to read a speech he had written out and Will nodded for him to go ahead.

  “On this solemn yet joyful occasion, we want to welcome our father home and say that though, through the many years we have missed him, we have as a family…”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  James stopped and Will answered for him, “In the house, Da. She’s coming. Don’t worry.”

  Ignored and hurt by the interruption, James folded and put away his speech, turned away from his father and took out his flask. It was then that Johannah stepped out onto the porch.

  Will announced her. “Da? Here she is.”

  Johannah had reclaimed her beauty with her hair up and a new dress. She came down from the porch, across the yard and walked boldly up to Jim. They stood apart.

  “Hello, Jim.” Her eyes then began to tear up. The children watched her as she tried to evaluate this hard, bearded man before her and find her Jim Donnelly in there after all these years.

  “Well…I’ve raised you seven handsome devils and one beautiful angel.”

  “That’s me!” Jenny interjected.

  Johannah concluded her statement. “Welcome home to us, Jim.”

  Johannah then stepped up and put her arms around him and embraced him with all her strength. Jim stood, not quite knowing what to do with his arms. He finally patted her back with one hand and she withdrew from him, knowing enough not to be hurt, knowing it would take time for him to find comfort at home, and in her. They studied one another’s face for a half minute and Johannah laughed and Jim offered a ghost of a smile. Yes, it would take time, Johannah knew.

  Will waited as long as he could. “See what we’ve done to the house, Da? Framed and plastered. And the new barns for the horses and stagecoaches. The war in the States was good for us the year after you left. We sold a lot of horses, cattle and pigs to the Yanks. We donated a little corner square of our land for a schoolhouse that’s been there seven years. Now we’re going to expand our lumber mill and build rental housing in town. We’re doing well, Da. You don’t have to worry. We’re well off now.”

  Jim looked around at the buildings. “Well, you’re squires of the county now. Got the world by the arse and a downhill haul. Didn’t need me at all.”

  “No! This is all because of you, Jim,” Johannah assured him. “Each time we’d ask, what would Jim do…what would Da do? So you see, you were at the centre of this.”

  “Always w-w-w-with us, Da,” John added quietly.

  Their husband and father looked at them, his face unused to expressing a positive emotion.

  “So you didn’t forget about me?”

  “Not for a moment!” Michael assured him.

  He looked out over the fields. “You’ve cleared that back section. You can almost see to the property line.”

  “You can!” Will exclaimed. “There’s plenty acres for barley and wheat…”

  “Good. At least you’ve not been sitting on your arses.” Jim gave a short cough of a laugh and on this cue they all laughed with him.

  “You taught us about hard work, Da.”

  “You were a good father.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about this moment for some time. You’re all fine-looking lads.”

  “What about me?” Jenny asked, confronting him, and Jim Donnelly laughed.

  “And a fair girl…and a fine farm…” Jim was blinking as the tears entered his eyes.

  “Welcome home, Da!” Jenny told him and hugged him again and everyone took up the refrain. “Welcome home.”

  Jim wiped a sleeve across his eyes and nose and looked toward the house.

  “All right, then. What’s for grub?”

  “Come inside.”

  Jim turned and limped his way across the yard toward the farmhouse, followed by Michael, Robert, Patrick and Tom.

  “We’ll show you the house, Da!” Michael offered.

  “It’s really nice,” Robert spoke with enthusiasm.

  “It’s got plaster walls and new furniture and…everything,” Patrick gushed as they followed him.

  Johannah turned to Will and Jenny and John.

  “There. He’s good. He just needs a little time with us. He’ll be fine,” she told them with all the conviction she could muster and hurried to follow her husband inside.

  Settling In

  That night they were in the yard having a lively bonfire to celebrate Jim’s return with family and a few friends: the Keefes—old James and his two sons, Sam and Luke—and the Whalens. Will played his fiddle and John played pipes. A painted banner proclaimed, “Welcome home Jim.” Johannah danced and laughed with Michael.

  As for Jim Donnelly, he sat drinking whiskey near the fire and talking over the pipe and fiddle music to James Keefe. From time to time Jim would suddenly, warily, look at the people around him, behind him. Then he would turn his attention back to James as he caught Jim up on local news. Will listened to their chat, a little jealous as his father hadn’t said more than two dozen words to him since he arrived.

  “I was sorry at Dr. Davis’s passing,” Keefe told him. “I stood outside the wall at Trinity for the service. He was a good man for a Protestant. But I wasn’t sad to see John Carroll in the ground. His son Jim’s grown up to be as much an idiot.”

  “The son has now become the enemy then?”

  “The enemy? Well, I don’t know…”

  “In Kingston, life’s pretty simple: there are friends and there are enemies.”

  James Keefe adjusted his leg, which still caused some pain in the evenings, sixteen years after the accident, and gave a considered response to his friend.

  “But you’re not in prison now, Jim. Things are better in Biddulph. It’s not the law of the jungle the way it was.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  * * *

  Johnny O’Connor had been helping out after farm chores the night that Old Jim Donnelly came home. He was to serve guests and wore a clean shirt that Johannah had given him over his thin frame and had brushed his straw-blonde hair. He brought a plate of apples and cheese up to Will, who took some, then offered it to Jim and James Keefe. Johnny was a little nervous about meeting Jim Donnelly. The man had gone to prison before he was born and the plate trembled. Old Jim studied him for a moment.

  “And just who are you, boy?”

  “I’m Johnny O’Connor, sir. I lives near to town, sir. I do chores for your missus.”

  “O’Connor. I remember. The shack next to the McLaughlins’ place? A pretty mother and your da’s the drunk?”

  “That’s me. I were born a couple years after you went away. I’m glad you’re free, sir.”

  “You may be in the minority in this town but thank you, lad. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Jim stuck out his hand and Johnny shook i
t, spilling a few of his apples in the effort.

  “You remind me of someone,” Jim told him. “A boy I knew a long time ago. His name was Vinnie.”

  “Must have been a handsome fella.”

  Jim looked at Johnny a moment and then laughed out loud at his little joke.

  Jenny Donnelly had been watching her father from a distance. She remembered all the stories her mother had told of him and his rough countenance was beginning to soften in her eyes. She worked her way toward her father, passing Johnny, who she knew had a crush on her. She smiled at him and said, “Hi sweetheart.”

  Johnny’s face went red and he quickly picked up his apples and moved along.

  Jenny extended her hand to her father almost like a challenge. It was time to dance. He looked up at her, intimidated by this pretty young woman who happened to be his daughter.

  “Dance with me, Da. Ma says you’re pretty good at it.”

  He shook his head, but she wasn’t about to give up.

  “Come on! You got to.”

  “Dance where?”

  “Just over there on the driveway near Will and John. It’s hard and smooth.”

  His features softened as she spoke and when she gently took his hands and pulled him reluctantly to his feet, he did surrender and walked with her to the packed ground near the players. He tried a little jig with her. He seemed pleased and even initiated a few fancy steps.

  “Kinda rusty. Not much call for dance practice in the pen.”

  His sons began clapping with encouragement and others joined in. Jenny was laughing. But then their father tripped and almost fell. In embarrassment he tried to escape back to his seat. Jenny playfully grabbed his arm again. He pulled it away quickly, too roughly, and sat down not looking at her. Though she covered it with a laugh, Jenny was hurt by his rejection. After he had sat down, she kissed him on the back of his head and went to get some apples herself.

  Michael stood up and gestured to the musicians. The music stopped and Will and John came over beside Johannah to witness a special presentation.