But the light had gone from Jamie’s eyes and the lightness from his feet. When he had come to the Kilkahoon fair, the entire countryside had worn a smiling face. The dancers seemed scarcely to touch the ground, and the birds overhead added their voices to the music of the pipers. Now the music had lost its lilt and the smiles were gone from the faces of the people. Moyna Moynihan and the girls who had looked so pretty before, now looked drab and old before their time.
Tavish tried to raise the boy’s spirits. “What a fortune the girl will bring. The Shanahans will pay plenty to be rid of her. This is one deal they’ll not get the better of. There’ll be lashans of money, enough for Kate to marry her Waddie O’Dowd—sure now he’d leap at the chance if he thought she’d bring so much as a red-eared cow—and to send Dennis to America, besides.”
Jamie gave no answer. He left Tavish at the fair and strode homeward, scuffing his boots against the rocks of the road, not feeling or caring. His high hopes were shattered and the dream of three wishes had turned to gray dust. In his heart Jamie knew there was no escape. Family obligations and loyalties shaped a pattern and the pattern shaped his destiny. It had been so in the past … so would it be in the future. He would marry the Shanahan girl who whinnied like a horse; Dennis would go to America; and Kate and Waddie O’Dowd would have a home of their own.
With a pain inside him like an unhealed wound, he clenched his fists and walked the road, dragging his coat in open invitation to battle, hoping to meet some face he could smash or a head he could break his knuckles against.
III
Exactly one week later was the time the Tinker Shanahans had agreed to visit the McRuin cottage and seal the terms of the marriage contract with a handshake and a glass of whiskey. The day was a busy one for everyone in the household, including Owen Roe Tavish. Kate had the redding up of the place to do, plus the baking of cakes for the guests. Jamie and Dennis raked and tidied the yard and patched and repaired the fences. To the Speaker fell the task of supplying two horses, six pigs, and an extra cow, which he had assured the Shanahans were a part of Jamie’s inheritance. Separating an Irish farmer from his livestock, even for a few hours, was no easy task. It required all the charm that the silver-tongued Tavish could muster, with a leavening of threats added for the reluctant ones.
“’Tis something I’ve never done before,” he would say, fixing a farmer with a hypnotic eye, “asking a man for the loan of his cow and pig. But ’tis for love! Now if you’re against love—if you’re not wanting me to have the lend of your animals, say so at once, and we’ll part as good friends as ever. I’ve never misused any man’s cow in my lifetime—nor any man’s pig or horse—you know that as well as I do—and your father knew it before you.”
By a mixture of promises and threats, and by assuring the reluctant owners that their animals would be back in their pens by feeding and milking time, Tavish succeeded in filling the McRuin yard with livestock.
“There now,” he said, well pleased with his contemplated fraud, “to match that the Shanahans will have to give a share in the business.”
“Isn’t it a bit cheating and dangerous besides to be telling the Shanahans that all those animals are ours?” Old Dan inquired dubiously.
Tavish shrugged. “Aye, ’tis low, knavish trickery, Dan; sure, I’d never stoop to such flagrant dishonesty if it were not for my own kin.”
“But won’t the Shanahans be suspicious?” Old Dan persisted.
“Aye, they will that … being the crooks that they are,” retorted Tavish, with bland inconsistency. “Sure the Shanahans wouldn’t trust their own mother. The point about cheating in matrimonial matters is to cheat so extravagantly that when the Shanahans disbelieve half, which they will, we’re still fifty per cent to the good.”
As the sun passed the meridian the cottage was spick and span with readiness. The borrowed horses, pigs, and cow, respectively, stomped, grunted, and chewed lazily on her cud. Old Dan McRuin fumbled in his near-empty tobacco pouch for a fresh pipeful. Kate scolded him peevishly, saying there would be no tobacco for the guests. The shadows of the trees outside began to lengthen and a midafternoon stillness stole across the hills. Dennis shuffled his feet nervously and Kate sat primly, clasping and unclasping her hands.
“Maybe they’re not coming,” Jamie said, making no effort to conceal the hope in his voice.
“Not at all,” replied Tavish. “’Tis a trick of the trade. They don’t want to seem anxious, and if we look frightened they’ll drive a hard bargain. So rest easy. Before the night falls the contract will be made. Jamie will have the girl of his choice, Kate will have her fortune so she can marry, and Dennis will hoist his sails for America and quicker than a cat’s wink will be sending home letters fattened with American dollars.”
Tavish was right about one thing. The Tinker Shanahans did arrive, all thirteen of them, with Tirsa, at midafternoon. The eleven brothers swarmed over the place, sounding the animals, testing the soil, and engaging in whispered conferences with each other. Tirsa and her father remained in the house with Owen Roe Tavish and the McRuins. The atmosphere was friendly but tense. Kate passed her cakes and accepted praise of them with a scoffing “tsch, they didn’t turn out well at all.” The whiskey jug went around and Timothy Shanahan insisted that his daughter have a swig. “’Twould not be good manners to refuse, girl,” he said.
Tirsa took a ladylike swallow, leering at Jamie the while. Old Dan offered Timothy a pipeful of tobacco, and the two old men fell into a long harangue about tobacco and the smoking of it, with Tirsa and Kate interposing an occasional comment.
“I’ll tell you something about myself,” said Dan. “The weed is my great vice. I’ve been known to burn three ounces of it at one sitting.”
“Och, ’tis much too much,” agreed Timothy Shanahan.
“I tell him he does wrong,” said Kate. “But does he listen—” she shrugged.
“Sure, it must be bad for the lungs,” Tirsa said, then giggled.
“No constitution can stand it,” admitted Old Dan. “Sure, I be killing myself with every puff.”
The drink had loosened Tirsa’s tongue. “I don’t mind the smoking at all,” she chattered, “that is, if the tobacco is good. Father smokes like a chimney, as do my brothers, although their wives complain something fierce. I don’t mind at all, I say. I’d even smoke myself if it were considered ladylike! Fancy me with a seegar, now—” she exploded into her high, whinnying laugh.
Jamie sat glumly through the hail of words. The brothers, led by Randal, drifted into the cottage. The liquor jug was refilled again and again and passed from hand to hand as the talk grew louder and the atmosphere thicker. The Shanahans had scant praise for the McRuin livestock. However, they assured Jamie they would show him how to sweeten his animals so they would bring profitable exchanges at the market. This would be done for him as a member of the family, and for a small commission, of course.
“And now,” said Tavish, above the clash of conversation, “we come to the subject of this meeting: On the one hand, a girl with a beauty the like of which ties men’s tongues to the roofs of their mouths, and on the other, this boyo here, who has wandered for days under an enchantment. Will the boy and girl leave the house while the more delicate details come up for discussion?”
Obediently Tirsa and Jamie rose and left the cottage. They wandered along the quicks that separated Jamie’s land from the neighboring farms. Tirsa, who had chattered like a magpie inside the cottage, now was silent. Jamie’s attempts to draw her into conversation yielded nothing but another series of her amazing giggles. He spoke of his terrible temper and hinted at other habits too frightful for delicate ears to hear. But Tirsa remained unimpressed.
“Don’t forget I grew up with eleven brothers,” she reminded him. “I know what boys are like.”
In desperation, Jamie sought a new tack. “We’ll be very poor,” he warned. “All of your fortune will go to getting a husband for Kate and sending Dennis to America. There’ll b
e nothing left to fix up the farm with. I couldn’t afflict such poverty on a nice girl like you, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Then Father will take you into the horse trading,” said Tirsa with assurance. “There’s enough in it for all.”
“Sure my health would never stand that,” Jamie protested quickly, “’tis my lungs!” He coughed feebly in verification.
Tirsa was instantly all sympathy. “Och, wirra! My brother, Fash, was bothered with the lung trouble. I rubbed his chest with horse liniment and fed him on crushed eggshells, and he was well in no time at all,” she assured him.
Jamie winced. “’Twould never do for such a frail one as myself,” he said, coughing again. “Sure I’m not long for this world, they do be telling me … and that’s a fact.”
Tirsa was not to be dissuaded. “I’ve other remedies—taught me by my mother—secret ones! You’ll be yourself again before the year is out,” she promised.
Jamie made one final despairing effort. “’Tis unfair for a sweet girl the likes of yourself to be burdened with a roughneck such as I. At fair time, when I’m with the drink taken, sure I’m that crazed I might raise my hand to you.”
Tirsa’s giggles changed to a derisive snort. “Och …” she hooted, “I could bend you with one hand … drunk or sober.”
The sun was gilding the hilltops when Tavish called the young couple back to the cottage. “’Tis set … ’tis all arranged,” he exclaimed with jubilation. “The Shanahan and the McRuin have shaken hands on the match. Come in … come in, and share a loving cup with your betrothed, Jamie, my boy.”
Like a young whale that is caught in the shallows, Jamie continued to struggle. “Go inside,” he said to Tirsa, “I’ve a word to speak with Owen Roe Tavish.”
Tirsa obeyed. “Don’t be long,” she called coquettishly.
“I’ll not,” said Jamie grimly. “Now, Cousin Tavish,” he said, turning to the Speaker, “the wind of a word with you.”
“I’ve no time now, lad,” said Tavish nervously, “later … later.…”
“’Twill be now or never,” Jamie warned. “Cousin Tavish … I can’t go through with this terrible thing.…”
“’Tis too late … ’tis over and done! The papers are all signed! Reconcile yourself, Jamie lad. ’Tis no worse than a cold plunge, is marriage! Once in, the water is said to be reasonably comfortable … besides, no man should live without the jewels of love!” Tavish concluded piously.
“I’ll not let you do this to me,” Jamie cried, seizing Tavish’s arm. “’Tis wicked! I could never love the girl. There’s someone whose portrait I’ve worn in my heart as long as I can remember. We’ve never met, but she’s mine-promised me by vows made beyond the rim of the world. To marry another … ’twould be a double crime: One against the Shanahan girl … and one against the girl who’s waiting for me somewhere … and who someday I’ll meet.…”
The boy’s passionate protest shook Tavish’s smug assurance. “Every man courts someone in his heart, Jamie,” he said seriously, “but how many meet or marry her? One in ten thousand thousand. Only someone God loves very much.…”
Kate came from the cottage. “Is anything wrong?” she asked, her eyes moving from Tavish’s face to Jamie’s.
“Jamie here will none of the Shanahan girl,” Tavish answered with a shrug of weariness.
“Go back to the guests, Cousin Tavish,” Kate said quietly.
“Don’t be too hard on the lad, Kate. ’Tis a hard thing to be young, and have three wishes … and to give them up … all in the same day.” He patted Jamie’s shoulder affectionately, then moved slowly away toward the cottage.
When he was gone, Kate turned to face Jamie. “Now then,” she demanded sharply, “what is this? Dan McRuin himself, and the Shanahan have signed their names and given their hands. ’Tis settled!”
Jamie’s face was a picture of anguish. “Kate … if you love me … spare me! Get me out of this,” he pleaded.
Pity, like a clutching fist, tightened about Kate’s heart. She strengthened her resolve with a show of harshness. “Have you thoughts only for yourself? And what’s to become of the rest of us if you don’t marry with the girl?” she demanded.
Jamie raised his arms in a gesture that was without hope. “Kate … darling sister … believe me! I am that ready to give up my three wishes! To trade my dreams for the common furniture of life … but not with.…” He waved despairingly toward the cottage. “That laugh … sure it would drive the river from its bed … make soft the hard, and grind the great sea stones to pebbles! What would it do to me, and through all the years that are to come.”
Kate drew the boy about to face her. “You’ve always had great love for the mysteries of life, Jamie brother, but little liking for the facts. Will you look at these hands and tell me what you read there?” She extended her hands but Jamie turned his face away.
“I’ve not the power to read what’s written in the hands,” he protested.
“Sure then you’re blinder than I thought,” Kate said sharply. “There are facts written in the palms of these hands, Jamie. They are as hard and calloused as your boots. If you looked closely enough, you’d see there all the years of toil and drudgery I’ve put in since Mother died. Sixteen I was then. For fourteen years I’ve cooked and washed and mended—even worked in the fields! And believe it or not, my brother, I’ve also dreamed a few dreams.…”
Jamie looked at his sister and seemed to see her for the first time. “Och, Kate, forgive me! I’m that blind I didn’t know!” he said humbly.
His sudden softness brought Kate to the verge of tears. “I didn’t dream of three wishes,” she continued, “only one: to have a home and husband of my own. Are you going to deny me that?”
Jamie wrapped her gently in his powerful arms, “Och, my darling … my sister and mother in one … sure, you’ll have your wish, and Waddie O’Dowd, too, though what a lovely girl like yourself, and with a fine fortune that is to be, wants with that great lump of nothing, I’ll never know.…”
He kissed her soundly on both checks and brushed away her tears with his two thumbs. Then, arm in arm, like friends who had lost each other and found themselves again, they went back into the cottage.
The interior of the cottage was hot and the Shanahans had been drinking steadily. It was plain that Owen Roe Tavish had driven a hard bargain for there was no gaiety in their faces. Only the elder Shanahan seemed quite content. Old Timothy was a small man compared to his towering children. With his pipe cold and his eyes blurry with liquor, he talked on and on, while Dan McRuin listened sleepily, contributing an occasional, “Yer-a-noe” or “May the saints preserve us,” to the one-sided conversation.
“Eleven sons and one daughter … and all of them like their mother,” Old Tim was saying dreamily. “She was a moveless kind of a woman, Dan … rocklike, when the kindness went out of her. It was because of her I gave up my tent and the roads of Ireland. She had a hankering for the town and a piece of land and the respectability that went with it. Aye, she was hard as the back of her hand with the children. When I was angry I let them feel the rough side of my tongue, but once a year in the spring she lined them up and gave them a hiding whether they deserved it or not—like you would give a dose of spring tonic.…”
Owen Roe Tavish strutted before the Shanahan brothers with pardonable pride. It was not every day that anyone bested the Shanahans in a business transaction. So he gloated in mellow happiness while the brothers glowered.
Outside the cottage a sudden flurry of noisy activity was creating considerable confusion around the barnyard. Chickens squawked and cackled. The pigs grunted and squealed. The borrowed cow bellowed, and the horses whinnied excitedly. The mounting disturbance caught Jamie’s ear. He glanced toward Dennis, but his brother was conversing animatedly with Tirsa. Tavish was within reach so Jamie tugged at his arm.
“Something’s gone wrong out in back,” he whispered. Beckoning the Speaker to follow, he went outside.
Tavish and Jamie had gone to the byre, trying to dissuade the angry neighbors from reclaiming their animals. “The black curse of a thousand Cromwells on the lot of you!” the Speaker had roared when his pleas were rejected, “and a special one on the man who invented neighbors.”
With the Shanahans boiling from the cottage lusting for blood, he hastily drew Jamie behind a shed.
“Wisdom is the better part of valor, lad,” he whispered. “We must give time for hot heads to cool.”
They hid behind the hedge of a neighbor’s field and darkness lent them a cloak. Jamie wanted to return to the cottage and have it out, but Tavish was firm against it. “’Tis not your blood they’re after as much as mine,” he said. “It’s the being took they can’t abide … and I’m the one that took them. Timothy has given Old Dan his hand and they can’t go back on that. They’ll cool off … just give them time.”
But the Shanahans showed no sign of cooling off. Despite the pleas of Tirsa, who would have been satisfied with Jamie if he hadn’t a farthing, and Old Timothy’s inclination to laugh at the manner in which his sons had been outsmarted, only blood and broken bones would satisfy them. Dividing into three groups, the brothers systematically ranged the countryside. News of what had happened spread before them like fire in a thatched roof, and the entire district turned out gleefully to watch the hunt. It was bright moonlight and Jamie and Tavish found themselves harried like rabbits, first this way and that. Finally they were driven toward the gap of Dunriggan, the deep ravine, impassable except for a narrow, swinging footbridge.
Three Wishes for Jamie Page 3