by L. E. Waters
“Highwayman, is that you?” she says in Gaelic with a smile on her face.
“Call me Redmond.” I try to get closer on the branch, but it starts to bend, so I inch back.
“Decided to come back for the £100?” she jeers.
“Well, my brother Art, here, says he knew you. Brought you your pony, he did.”
She looks down out the window, and Art waves awkwardly to her. She smiles and waves back. “Art, where did you go? You never returned.”
“I found a more lucrative business.” He laughs.
She glances over at me. “I see you have.”
“So, I just wanted to come to be sure you arrived home safe. These roads can be mighty dangerous with all those rapperees around.”
She laughs. “No, I only came across one ruffian on the journey home.”
“You never can be too careful, then. Although you were traveling with two pretty valiant bodyguards, there.”
Her laugh’s melodious and light. “I noticed.”
Art whispers as loud as he can, “Redmond, better not tarry!”
“I thank you for making sure I’ve arrived home in one piece, and I wish you both well in all of your adventures.” Her white teeth glow in the purple light.
“Well, good-night and good morrow, sweetheart.” I tip my hat. “But it may be I will see you again.”
She smiles again, closes the windows, and draws the curtains, taking her glow with it.
“Come on down, cupid,” Art says.
When I hang on the last branch, I drop squarely on my saddle, and Ghost takes off at a trot.
“That went rather well!” I say, smiling, but I notice Art is not.
Chapter 8
’Tis a full moon on a clear night, and we decide to go toward Markethill. We’re taking a path beside the road when we hear gunshots up ahead. Ghost slows at once at the sound, and Art says, “We better head back to Newry.”
But in the moonlight, I see the form of a tall man on a delicate but large thoroughbred galloping toward us on the road. “We better stay put. Whatever ’tis, it’s coming fast.”
Shots are fired, and at least three men are galloping after one, and by their hats, I guess they are militia. The chased man spins around, and without any gun or pistol in his hands, he turns and charges straight at the men with a guttural yell. ’Tis so unexpected that the men turn their horses around mid-gallop and spin in circles as the man comes with his sword up in the air. The three men try to flee in the other direction as the dark man rushes up behind one of them and hits the man on his back. The soldier screams in agony as he slumps over on his horse.
The dark man turns his horse fluidly and tries to escape again, but the two relentless soldiers take chase. Aggravated, the dark man’s horse rears as the man pulls it back to charge once again. One of the brazen soldiers lifts his sword high and keeps charging. When they come to pass, the soldier swings to hit the dark man but misses, and the exceptional dark rider turns so quickly he’s able to hit the soldier from behind, causing the man to fall from his horse at great speed. The man lies injured on the ground. The other soldier stays his distance, still shooting at him.
The dark man rears back and screams, “Fall back if you know what’s good for you!”
The soldier puts his gun down and walks his horse backwards. The dark man kicks his horse to gallop back down the road.
“Come on, Art!” I say as I try to catch up with him.
The man hears my horse in the woods. He slows and gets his sword back out. “Who goes there?”
I don’t say anything but decide to appear out of the woods with my hands up.
“Are you following me?”
“No sir, I just wanted to compliment you on your fine riding back there. Really something to see.”
“And who might you be, out in the woods this late?”
“Redmond O’Hanlon.”
“O’Hanlon, you say? I have heard some about you.”
“What do you go by?”
“Some call me Galloping Hogan.”
“Well, I can see why.” I laugh and try to walk Ghost closer to see his face.
At the sound of a stick snapping in the woods, he asks, “Have you another with you?”
“My brother, Art. We were headed back to our campsite. The moon’s too bright to sneak up on anyone tonight. Would you like to join us?”
He considers it for a moment. “No harm in it, I guess, seeing as I’m having an unlucky night and all.”
Once I ride beside Art again, he asks, “Why for?”
“We’re forming a gang.” I wink.
Once Galloping Hogan’s in league with us, we all go out separately for small robberies and meet back at a predetermined spot to regroup and hide our plunder. I recruit my old friends Brian Kelly, Shane Berragh, Paul Liddy, and “Strong” John MacPherson, but I’m always on the lookout for more men.
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I see his red hair from a quarter of a mile away. I walk Ghost back behind a bush before the man can see me. As he canters by, I rush out with Ghost at top speed and have my pistol at his head by the time he turns to see me.
“Stop your horse!” I say.
He pulls his horse back, and we both stand there in the road. He wears white silk from head to toe, and about as many ruffles as a woman would have. On top of his carrot-orange head rests a white tricorn hat with a large white plume sticking back.
I yell, “Keep your hands on your reins, and you won’t get shot!”
As I put my hands in the deep bags thrown over his horse, I pull out one heavy bag of coins.
“Please, sir, I am but a peddler that has sold my master’s fine goods at the fair. He has threatened my life if I return with one shilling missing.”
He even sounds like a woman.
“Just tell him Redmond O’Hanlon has robbed you. I’ve got a reputation in these parts.”
“Oh, no, sir, he won’t believe I’ve been robbed. He’ll think I took everything for myself,” he says with his thin brows pinched together.
“That’s not my problem.” I put the money in my saddlebags and get back on.
“Please, I beg you, will you please make some sort of sign that I have been robbed?”
“A sign?” I pull one side of my lip up.
“I’ve got it.” He starts unbuttoning his fine coat and holds one side out far from his body. “Shoot a hole through my coat, I beg you.”
I let a quick breath out. “Fine.”
I shoot clear through the middle, leaving a small tear. His horse jumps at the close sound.
“Please, sir, one more to show that I have really put up a fight.” He holds out the other side of his coat.
I take out the other loaded pistol I have on my belt and shoot.
He laughs. “And one more for good measure!” He throws his fluffy hat high in the air. I pull out the last pistol I keep hidden in my pants and hit it just before it touches the ground. I laugh at the game, look back at him, and he has a pistol pointed straight at my head.
His voice suddenly drops much lower, and I realize it has been an act the whole time. I still have my gun on him, though, and I say, “Well, I guess we’ll find out who is a better shot, then.”
“Well, I think that ’twould be me, considering you didn’t reload.”
He dismounts and comes over. “I’m taking everything back and then some. Get down off your horse.”
“You can take everything I have in the saddle bags, but leave me be.”
“I don’t want to bring you in. I just had to prove myself to you.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m done peddling goods. I want to join your gang. I knew if I got you at your own game, you’d take me along.”
I laugh. “You planned this all, dandy?”
“Every bit. I even followed you down the woods there from town this morning, just to be sure you’d notice me.”
“In that outfit, how could I miss
you? I could have been miles away and seen you coming.”
“True, true. I have come out in my finest.” He straightens a lapel proudly.
“Well, shake my hand, then, and let me go introduce you to the men. What do you want to be called?”
“Pedlar Bawn,” he says regally.
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I still need the help of one more bandit that I’ve heard is working in my woods. I ask around and get word that Ned of the Hill has robbed only a mile from the village. I get on Ghost and ride off to find him. We venture to the most remote part of the road and sure enough, a man cuts me off at the pass and tells me to, “Stand and deliver!” in very good English.
I can really use another man who speaks English on my team.
I put my hands up and say, “I’ve come looking for you.”
“You’ve come looking for me?” He scoffs, rolls his ice-blue eyes, and says, “And how do you know who I am?”
“You’re Ned of the Hill, and the name’s O’Hanlon.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Why for would I be lying?”
“I hear he’s six feet tall, as able as an ox, and a grand athlete.”
“I’m most definitely a grand athlete,” I say with a smug grin.
He takes his flintlock down and dismounts. “All right, toe to toe, then.”
I walk to the side of the road on nice, even ground. We stare at each other for a moment, and then he comes at me. I know right away he’s scrappier than he looks. He has me on the defensive almost the entire time. He’s quick. Anytime I start to get some good hits in, he knocks me hard and moves out of range. He dodges and comes back quick. We fight like this for a good twenty minutes until he gives me such a wallop under the chin that it knocks me to the ground.
“All right, you won, you won!” I say, panting a bit and wipe the bit of blood that came from biting my tongue.
He sits, panting also. “So, you’re really O’Hanlon?”
“I don’t know, you just hit me so hard I can’t even remember what I am.”
He laughs at this. “Why for did you come looking for me?”
“We’ve been robbing this whole area for some time. We’ve all heard about each other. More militia and bounty hunters have been pouring in. I think it’s time we started teaming up together to do this job right.”
He considers it a moment. “But I don’t keep most of what I take. I give it away to those I see needs it.”
“Well, we’re all doing the same thing, sonny. I barely keep anything for ourselves besides what we need for supper and supplies. Everything else we find a good home for. I just don’t want the damn planters and Protestants having it all.”
He’s nodding, and then he sticks his hand out. “Well, then, count me in.”
Chapter 9
I sit watching from the woods at the time Art says Muirin always comes down for her ride. ’Twas an unusually sunny day, and I know she’ll be coming for a ride. Every minute feels long, and even Ghost is fidgeting. Finally, I see her. She’s wearing a brown velvet bodice over a cream petticoat. Her hair is tied in a long braid, and she seems to shine as she walks down with her substitute for Art. The man goes into the stables, brings out a white good-sized pony, and puts a step down for her to mount sidesaddle. She thanks the man and takes off at a trot down to the trail I wait by. As soon as I see the fellow go back into the house, I go after her. She sits well on her horse and takes a few jumps over some fallen trees smoothly. When she reaches a clearing, I kick into a gallop to go along side her. She almost falls off at the sight of me, but as soon as she regains composure, she’s smiling. She pulls her horse to a stop.
“Hello, Muirin!” I beam.
“You’re making me feel like you can sneak up on me anywhere I go,” she says as I keep Ghost walking in slow circles around her.
“That’s because I can sneak up on you wherever you go.” I smile.
She slides off her horse and walks it over to a large rock she sits on. I jump off too and let go of Ghost to graze, and stand in front of her. I can tell my nearness makes her nervous since she picks a piece of fern beside her and focuses on tearing each leaf off.
“Would you like me to stop following you?”
She laughs slightly and shrugs. “Tell me about some of your adventures.”
I sit on the ground in front of her and tell her the story about being tricked by Pedlar Bawn and what happened when I stole my first horse. She’s laughing hard by the end.
After a pause, she glances up at the house on the hill. “I’m so bored here.”
I stay quiet.
“Every day I do the same things. Every day I go to bed wondering where my day went. What made this day different from the rest.” She looks away.
“Until I came robbing your carriage, throwing coins at your window, and interrupting your ride.”
“Exactly, that’s what I’m saying.” She smiles at me and peers into my eyes for the first time. “You’re so… alive.”
“Well, maybe not for long.” I try to lighten her mood.
“Oh, don’t say such things.” But she still laughs.
“I’ve a fantastic idea. We can meet out here every day this time to talk, and I can tell you stories about the crazy shenanigans I escaped the night before.” I peer straight in her eyes and say, “This way you have something unexpected to look forward to, and I’ve something to stay alive for.”
She smiles so sweetly, it makes my chest tight. “I would like nothing better.”
She steps on the rock to get on her saddle, and I try to show off by whistling for Ghost and hop on at a canter. Muirin seems impressed, and I follow her all the way back to her stable before retreating through the woods.
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Over the next week, I have the men take a vacation from their looting and gather all of my gang at the largest cave we found at the bottom of a rocky cliff deep in the woods. The cave’s extraordinary in that it leads down to a first chamber that appears like the end, where there’s a small crevice in the rocks on the right under which a nimble man can squeeze. The only one who has trouble fitting through is “Strong John,” who’s a giant of a man—over six feet in height and weighing more than fifteen stones. Two men on either side of the crevice have to push and pull him through, John grunting the whole time with the squeeze. Once through, there’s one high-ceilinged cavern that can sleep twenty average men comfortably. But when Strong John comes hunching in and sprawls his massive girth, it fits only him and fifteen others. The two spaces off that room are perfect for storing guns, ammo, swords, and all of the clothing we steal and use for disguise.
As soon as everyone’s through, I pull out a crate of fine liquor I got from the last carriage I hit and say, “I gathered you all tonight to discuss the rules of our gang.” I point down to Art. “Give them all their own bottles, since we’re celebrating tonight.”
Pedlar Bawn reads the label once he’s handed his. “This bottle alone is a good reason to celebrate.” He pulls the cork out and takes a long swig.
“First rule,” I say. “No killing unless it’s in self-defense. Not only would you be breaking one of the Ten Commandments, the more killing there is, the more militia they’ll send here from Ulster.”
The men nod in agreement.
“Second rule: No drinking to excess—”
“What the hell do you mean?” Art interrupts.
“Are we joining a convent here?” asks Paul Liddy with his olive green eyes opened wide.
“Listen to me first before you all get your knickers in a knot. We need to be on guard at all times. All times! There is no safe time to dull your senses. I make this rule for the safety of the individual as well as for the safety of the group.”
“It makes good sense,” Ned agrees.
“That’s because you’re dry as a nun’s gusset!” Brian Kelly says to the amusement of everyone but Ned.
Ned retaliates, “It
is sweet to drink but bitter to pay for. When the drop is inside the sense is outside.”
“Look, I’m leading this flock, and I say three times I find you intoxicated, you’re out. Not another word said about it.”
Everyone’s quiet, either in agreement or anger.
“Lastly, I speak of the fairer sex. I want no harm coming to them. You lay a finger on any of them, Protestant, planter, Scotch-English, Irish, old, young, ugly or comely, you’re out. One time, you’re out.”
They seem to agree on this, at least.
“Oh, I forgot one other thing: we must be able to gather at a moment’s notice. I’ll use this flute here to blow a high-pitched whistle. If you’re in range, you meet here at the main cave. If you know where another of your brothers is, you go get them too. We need to be able to assemble in emergencies.”
I come and sit among them.
“Okay, now that the rules are laid out, the next thing to discuss is the business side.
Seeing as we’ve teamed up all the bandits a day’s travel from here, we’re in a nice position to start a whole new business.” I pause for a minute for suspense. “I’m thinking we start charging for protection.”
“Protection from what?” Bawn asks.
“From us.” I laugh and so does everyone else.
“So we’re going to charge people a monthly fee to keep us from stealing from them?” Strong John asks.
“Us and any other bandits that move in on our territory.”
“And how are we going to go about collecting these fees without the law nabbing us?” Ned asks.
“We can hire collectors from our loyal townspeople. People we know we can trust. If someone doesn’t pay, we steal their horses or cattle away until they pay us back. Each of you can be in charge of an area and report back to me. Easy as that.”
“How much will we charge, and what area are we going to cover?” asks Hogan.