by Tony Roberts
Bridget was upset over Lorrimer’s vanishing. She’d taken a shine to him on his brief visit to the house and it took a bit of time for her to get over it; she’d convinced herself they were fated to marry and now she’d been denied a husband. Case could hardly tell her he’d blown a hole in his back underneath the church, so he kept his own counsel on the matter. What had happened between Bridget and Michael O’Driscoll, Case didn’t know, but it seemed Bridget had switched her affections at a drop of a hat. Not a good sign. Mary looked at him shrewdly again but said nothing.
Elizabeth was even more afraid of Case after the farmhouse shoot out and became more introverted. She hardly ever left her mother’s side. Patrick though was the opposite. He almost hero-worshipped Case; the idea this man was here defending them against the bad guys fired his imagination and the boy dearly wanted to learn to shoot just like his hero. Case found he had a shadow and tried to tell him he was just an ordinary guy, but of course he wasn’t and that was the problem.
Ann was the complex one. She hardly spoke to him but when she did she was very friendly and pleasant, and smiled at him often. She was away from the house more and more and it was no surprise when one morning she announced her engagement to Sean Brady. Case felt a stab of envy, then crushed it. He had no business with her and he knew she’d have more happiness with the boy than she would with him. He congratulated her and she smiled, then incredibly she winked at him! He wondered what that was all about, but he guessed he’d find out sooner or later.
Mary was delighted and suddenly went into a wedding frenzy, displaying outbursts of energy that had Case running for the outdoors and the less stressful environs of mending fences. Patrick joined him, expressing in his disgust at ‘ma’s organizing of Ann’s life’. Case grinned and was thankful that he wasn’t married to Mary; she’d drive him mad.
Ann had to go into town and get a dress. Mary insisted on coming to make sure everything was going to be right, and they commandeered Michael O’Driscoll’s wagon and browbeat the poor young man into driving them into town the next day. Case came with them on Napoleon, leaving Patrick in charge of the farm. Mary gave him precise instructions of what to do and what not to do. Case smiled as Patrick’s eyes rolled about his head. He was fifteen and almost a man. Bridget sulked. She didn’t like being under the charge of her younger brother, and she also wanted to travel in Michael’s wagon. Case guessed she’d switched her attentions back to the awkward, shy lad. Case felt sorry for him; she’d eat him for breakfast. She was sixteen and just becoming aware of her womanhood. The fiery redhead would be a handful, that was sure.
Elizabeth sat on Mary’s lap. There was no way she’d let her mother out of her sight and go into town without her. The two left behind on the farm waved as the others rode out of the drive onto the road. Case had no worries about leaving them for a few hours. Pat would be alright; it was Bridget he wasn’t so sure, but Pat was big enough to handle any trouble. He’d seen him dish out his version of coping before, and Bridget had been the recipient then. She’d carried the mark on her leg for a couple of days.
Lynchburg was its usual busy self and Case tied Napoleon to a handy rail made for that purpose and watched as the women passed into a draper’s shop. Mary would make the best dress she’d ever set her hands to, and she declared she’d need the best fabrics possible. She’d saved some money over the past year for this eventuality and now went into the shop like one of these new-fangled locomotives that were beginning to roll across the countryside on their railroads.
Michael puffed out his cheeks and looked at Case. “Is she always like this, Case?”
“Who, Mary? Only when there’s a wedding in the offing. Beware, you might be next, if the fair Bridget has her way.”
“Oh mother of God,” Michael moaned. “Is she that keen?”
“Glowing at the edges if not fully on fire yet,” Case said, his face dead straight.
Michael swallowed. “I’ve done nothing to encourage her, Case!”
“Apart from talking to her. She’s very keen to get hitched I’d say. And you’re number one in the firing line. Good luck.” With that Case walked across the street and was passing the bank when he caught sight of a poster stuck to a wall. Intrigued, he stopped and read it. A print of a man’s face dominated the middle, rather like the ‘Dead or Alive’ posters for criminals. This one, however, was for a politician. Same thing, really, Case mused. ‘Vote for Polk’ it shouted out. Case scratched his chin. There was a presidential election coming up and this man, James K. Polk of Tennessee, was the Democratic Party’s candidate. The writing on the poster declared Polk would expand the United States westward by annexing Texas, and purchasing all land up to the Pacific Ocean which meant California and everything in between. Case whistled under his breath. This would be like a red rag to the Mexicans. If Polk got in then war was virtually guaranteed.
He carried on his route to the tanner’s. His shoes were falling apart and it had taken him some time to save up enough money to afford a new pair. The good thing these days was that he was no longer something of a giant; better diets meant bigger and bigger people were around and Case was now just one of many big guys. As a result he had no trouble getting clothing and footwear to fit.
On his way back he crossed the street to look in the gunsmith’s to see what new stock was in but was distracted by a crowd gathering on the corner. He strode up to the people and looked through to see what was up. The wagon was still there as was the horse. Michael was sitting on the sidewalk, his face a mask of blood. Case pushed through and knelt at his side. A woman, trying to daub his face, looked at Case in irritation.
“It’s okay ma’am,” he said, “I’m his neighbor.” He looked closely at the stricken man. He’d been beaten up, clearly. Some teeth were missing, his eyes were shut, his nose broken, lips split and cheek cut. “Hell Michael,” Case said in dismay, “what the hell hit you? A locomotive?”
Michael moaned and reached out with his hands. One finger had been stamped on and crushed. Case felt slightly sick. He gingerly felt round Michael’s sides and he felt a puffy area on the right hand side over the ribs. Michael cried out, blood spraying from his mouth. Broken ribs too. The sadistic bastard had kicked him while he was down. He tried to speak, his lips rubbery and flaccid. “Sphwphssss…”
“What? What you trying to say, Michael?”
“Ssssuh Sphwphsss.”
“Schwarz? That was you trying to say? It was the Schwarz brothers?”
“Essth….” He coughed, blood flowing out of his mouth.
Case cursed. “Okay Michael, I’m going to put you in the back of the wagon. It’ll hurt like hell because you’ve got broken ribs. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
He pulled the injured man upright smoothly, the young man being no real weight at all. He moaned aloud, causing one or two onlookers to wince or suck their breath in. Case hauled him to the back and up, sitting him on the back of the wagon. The Irishman gurgled horribly and spat out a hunk of blood. Case stepped up and pulled Michael in, sitting him up against one side of the wagon. “Okay, now don’t go anywhere or I’ll make you prettier.”
Michael’s mouth twitched then he thought better of it. Case threw him a rag to soak up the blood and stood by the side of the horse. “Okay folks, he’s going to be fine. A few days in bed and a good shot of ma’s ol’ whiskey and he’ll be chased by all the pretty women once again.”
The onlookers smiled and broke up. One or two remained and one Case recognized straight away. He had a hook for his left hand but the rat-face was the same as was the bitter, twisted expression.
Whitby.
CHAPTER TWELVE
He stood there, a sardonic smile slowly spreading over his face. Case gripped the handle of his colt and took a step towards him. Two men stepped out of the shadows to join him. One was the broken-nosed Hartley while the other was an unknown. “Well now, Lonnergan, you sonofabitch, its mighty fine to see you again. I’ve got a debt to settle with you.” He wa
ved his hook in the air.
“What are you doing here?” Case snapped, eyes switching to the others and back to Whitby.
“Why, lookin’ fer you of course. Took a long time it did, but we finally got to hear of you and came over here. Say, that kid who got beat up a pal of yours?”
“None of your business.”
“Heh heh heh,” Whitby looked at Hartley who smiled emptily. “Well, we saw what happened. Seems your pal upset these three guys who just beat the hell outta him. Fun watching it.”
“I bet it was. Comes second only to beating up women, eh?” Case glared at Whitby, wishing he’d go somewhere far away.
Whitby’s smile faded. “Well, Lonnergan, it don’t do good insulting me. I’ve got friends here in town and they tell me you got a farm up beyond with those Irish girls you was with in Philadelphia. Those girls who ought to be servicin’ good paying customers.”
Case’s fists clenched tight.
“Ahh. He’s sweet on them. Servicin’ them good are you? Don’t want to share them with anyone?”
“You’re just a sad nasty bastard who’ll come to a sticky ending before long, Whitby. Now get out of my face before I take your other hand off. Then you’ll not be able to get personal satisfaction unless you employ outside help.”
Whitby’s face darkened. “You’re gonna pay for what you did to me. I’m gonna go now, but I’ll be warning you that I’ll come lookin’ fer you one day and on that day you’ll wish you’d never been born.” He spat at Case’s feet and walked off, followed by the other two. Hartley paused a moment and pointed at his nose then at Case. The implication was clear.
Case stood and watched them vanish and then breathed a sigh of relief. Michael moaned again and Case jumped up to have a look at him. The swelling was worse and he looked dreadful. Just then the women came back, babbling excitedly. They stopped abruptly at the sight of Michael. “Oh sweet Jesus!” Mary exclaimed.
Case explained what he knew but left out the Whitby episode. He felt it wasn’t necessary to burden her with more than she already had. Clucking like a mother hen, Mary got into the back with her purchases and began tending the stricken Michael. Elizabeth clutched her mother’s skirt and looked in horror at the blood over his face. Ann sat behind the reins and took them as Case passed them to her. “Hold on a moment there, Miss Ann,” he said, “I’ll go tie Napoleon to the wagon and I’ll sit with you on the way home.”
He brought his horse over and tied him to the back before climbing up alongside Ann. “Okay, you drive or me?”
“I’m capable,” Ann said, her voice challenging him.
“Sure you are, Miss Ann,” Case agreed, “off we go then.” He watched the streets as Ann drove along the main street to the outskirts of town. Michael groaned and moaned but Mary was attentive, tutting and clucking. Case thought that Michael would find another enthusiastic nurse in Bridget once they got back to the farmhouse. He doubted Michael would be permitted to leave for a few days.
He grinned and faced front.
“Funny is it now?” Ann asked, stealing a glance at him.
“Uh? Oh, just thinking Michael will be well treated at home once Bridget gets her hands on him.”
Ann tutted and shook her head. “I think I ought to tend him in that case.”
“What, and incur the wrath of your sister? Let the poor girl have some fun; you’ve got the handsome Sean to think of now, Miss Ann. Michael deserves a break after what’s happened to him, and Bridget I’m sure will put a great deal of effort into soothing his fevered brow.”
Ann reached across and slapped Case on the arm. “Oh, yer such a wicked divil! Playing matchmaker now, are we? And with ye so afraid of doing it yeself.”
“Well, you know how it is,” Case replied, “I’m not the type the mothers take kindly to.”
Mary looked up from her place alongside Michael. “And here’s one mother who agrees with that wholeheartedly!”
Case grinned. Then looked at Michael and his smile faded. “Someone’s going to pay for that. Cowardly bastards. Excuse my language.”
“In this case I’ll forgive ye,” Mary said from the back. “Those Schwarz brothers are no good. I’ve heard bad things about them from the Bradys and the Burkes too. Stealing land, equipment and the like. Threatening neighbors and beating people up. They’re bullies and bullies needs one thing. To be taught a good lesson.”
Case nodded and a thoughtful look crossed his face.
Ann shook her head emphatically. “Don’t ye go doing something silly now, Case Lonnergan!”
“Don’t worry, Miss Ann, I won’t do anything that’ll get me killed.”
They got Michael to the house just as it began to rain. It was cold and they hurried him indoors where Bridget took one look and, after reacting with shock, declared she’d tend his injuries. Case suggested getting someone with medical skills to see to his broken ribs; he worried pneumonia might set in, having seen it too many times in the past. November wasn’t a good time to suffer that sort of injury.
Mary agreed but asked where such a man might be found. Nobody knew of any doctor. Case said he’d ask the O’Driscolls when he took the wagon back to their place and tell them what had happened to Michael. “I don’t think Michael should be moved until he’s had a few days rest. He’ll need time to recover.”
“That’s what I think!” Bridget agreed, her eyes shining.
“Now Bridget McGuire,” Mary’s voice cut through the low noise in the kitchen, “don’t ye be getting above yeself.”
Bridget’s face fell. Ann came into the room armed with a bowl and towels. Mary took over and began filling it with water. Case ambled up to a seated Michael who was listlessly waiting for the painful moment his face was tended. Both eyes were beginning to turn black and were totally shut. Blood was caked over his chin, neck and clothing. He looked like an overripe tomato. “Hold tight, Michael,” he said softly, “you’re in good hands. I’m going over to your farm and tell your folks what’s happened.”
Michael nodded painfully and tried to mumble his thanks, but Case squeezed his shoulder gently and reassured him there was no need. He pushed the door open and went outside into the rain. The wagon was getting wet but it had to be taken over to the O’Driscolls now. Patrick was coming in from one of the fields and Case brought him up to date with events. The youth scowled darkly. “Those bastards!”
“Aye but don’t be saying that in front of your mother; she’d take a ladle to you.”
Patrick muttered under his breath. “I’d like to come with ye, Case, when ye sort out those devils.”
“All in good time, Pat. For now we need to sort poor Michael out. Go see if your mother wants you to help.”
Patrick wandered into the house reluctantly and Case mounted up and coaxed the horse to swing it round. “Wait!”
Case turned in his seat and saw Ann rushing out into the rain, a shawl over her head. “Miss Ann, you’ll get wet!”
“It’s not important,” she said. “I just want ye to understand I don’t want ye going over to the Schwarz place and doing anything stupid. Ye hear me, Case Lonnergan?”
Case stared at the woman. “Aye, I hear you. I’m only going to deliver this back and then come back here. I’m not going to stay out in this any longer than I have to!”
“Good! If ye do go to the Schwarz’s, the I’ll not speak to ye ever again.”
“Well that’d be too high a price to pay, Miss Ann, wouldn’t it?” Case grinned, then put his fingers to the brim of his felt hat and rode off, leaving Ann staring through the rain at him for a moment before racing back indoors.
Case dropped the wagon back at the O’Driscolls and recounted the tale of the assault. Michael’s father and brother were all for going over the German’s place and sorting them out, but Case talked them out of it, inviting them over to see Michael instead later than evening. Mrs. O’Driscoll was very concerned and got repeated assurances that her son was in good hands, and then she insisted on pressing some cak
es upon Case who, famished, ate them soon enough.
He eventually returned before dinner and was met by Ann who looked at his soaked condition. “Oh, Case Lonnergan! Ye’ll catch yer death ye will!”
“I’ll be fine, Miss Ann; I’ve had much worse in my time than some little cold.” Case didn’t even suffer from colds following the Curse; the only time he could remember being ill in fact was when he got the Plague in Italy during the time of Attila’s campaigns. Even then he’d come round after a couple of days and was as good as new. Since then nothing had touched him. He’d come through the Black Death and every other unpleasant thing nature could hurl at him without as much as a sneeze.
“So ye say! Off with yer wet things and put some dry ones on. I’ll dry them by the fire.”
Case waved his hands in surrender and tugged of his jacket and shirt and handed them to Ann who, once more faced with his scarred body, stared despite herself. Case pointed up the stairs. “I’ll put on my other trousers up there and bring you these down in a minute. How’s Michael?”
Ann said that the O’Driscoll boy had been cleaned up but his face was very bad and his ribs had been broken, but hopefully the bindings would hold them. However with Mary, Ann and Bridget all tending him, they’d soon cleaned him up and now Michael was resting in Bridget’s bedroom. Bridget was to sleep in Ann’s room for the duration of Michael’s convalescence.
After dinner the O’Driscolls came round to see their boy and they stayed for a few hours. Mary was delighted to see Maeve O’Driscoll and the two soon were as thick as thieves, gossiping and discussing poor Michael’s condition. William O’Driscoll was a little more reticent and offered little in conversation. He was still very angry at his son’s injuries and was boiling over inside. Patrick engaged him in a little talk but soon tired of William’s short responses and left for his room.
Ann cornered Case and took him aside in the living room when the others were elsewhere, either in the kitchen or up in Bridget’s room checking on the patient. Case wondered what the hell she was going to say. Something was on her mind, that was for sure. Ann kept her voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear what she was to say to the man.