Chapter IV
By Sherry Whitten
A charged atmosphere hovered over the supper table. The mere tone of her thick Irish brogue held everyone transfixed... like the moth to the flame, Billy decided with exasperated ire.
The moth always got burned alive.
Caitlin stretched in contentment, as a sleek cat having just finished off the sweetest cream in the bowl. Eyes bulged, mouths drooled...Teaspoon's spoon clattered noisily to the floor.
Beaming across to Emma, Caitlin was oblivious to it all. "'T'was a meal fit for a royal king, Mistress Shannon, and I thank ye kindly for your generosity."
Emma grinned, amused at all the besotted, round-eyed males surrounding the table...save one. Her brow lifted at the set look on Billy's face. "You're kindly welcome, Caitlin. It was no trouble at all."
"You still haven't told us why you're here," Billy noted sourly, arms crossed in set resolution across his chest.
"Don't be rude, Billy," Emma rebuked gently, "Caitlin is our guest."
"Perhaps I'd only be passin' through," she tossed back airily, forcefully holding his accusing gaze.
He snorted shortly. "Yeah, right." A jaw worked furiously. "You said you were looking for Sam."
Caitlin couldn't contain the blush staining her cheeks. She knew she would never fool Willie. It was beyond her senses how he could crawl into her brain and read her innermost thoughts!
Though her pulse quickened at the interrogation, Caitlin gave no hint she felt on trial in a witness box. "Ye of all people know I'm forever sayin' a lot of things, " then tossed out as if the statement explained all, "I'm Irish...'tis in the blood."
"Tell us about Ireland, Caitlin...and about how you came to know Billy," Lou interrupted, tired of all this strained atmosphere between the two. Caitlin said they were in love, but it sure seemed a strange kind of love to her.
Maybe what Buck said was true - maybe there was only a thin line between love and outright hatred! It was obvious Billy and Caitlin were teetering heavily on the hate side.
Caitlin beamed her gratitude, glad of the reprieve. "Aye, I'd love to, Lou."
She turned her attention to the young woman - and presented her back to Willie.
"I was born in a small village in southwest Ireland though I can't remember much about the township. I do recall the landscapes were a thing of beauty to behold, even in the eyes of a child - mountain and lakes that'd take your very breath away, but alas, beauty didn't pay the piper.
"Aye, times were hard for me folks. So, when Poppa heard tales of your America he was prepared to risk all, for he had an elusive dream and a wanderin' spirit..." she laughed, "and an eye for the main chance. Without thought to me mum's rathers, he used the money for their new potato crop to buy passage to America."
She smiled as she recalled the day he'd come in and announced he'd purchased tickets for the next ship out to America. "Low and behold, he waved the papers before our eyes, and I thought Mum would vaporize where she stood, such was her outrage. She dragged him by the ear into their room, and sure as faith, I feared the rafters would surely crumble, such was her fury.
"Mum swore he'd lost sane thought, storming around the house for a week afterward, crockery flying across the kitchen and not a word would she speak to Poppa." Her grin became gentle, "Aye, but I'm thinkin' before it was done she was just as excited as he."
She looked to Lou with regret, "I'm not rememberin' much about Killarny, for I was but a wee lass when we sailed for your land."
"You sailed on a ship?!" Lou's eyes glowed with excitement at the opportunity to see such a sight as the ocean.
"Aye, that I did."
"What was it like...I can't imagine it." Lou demanded urgently, wanting Caitlin's knack for words to paint a picture in her head.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Caitlin laughed delightedly. "I recall Mum and Poppa were sick to their toenails most of the way, with the great waves risin' like mountains above us and tossin' the boat this way and that.
"Mum blamed Poppa for that too, cursin' him to the deepest pits of Hades. She swore he'd cursed them for his wanderlust and greed, and we were bein' punished for leavin' their heritage and inheritance behind."
"Poppa had snorted through his pale face, comin' back with a snide remark about her father's miserly inheritance. Then she'd lash out again, and I'd tear up to the deck and let them get on with it.
"Mostly I was left to fend for meself, Mum and Poppa bein' too sick to look after me proper." She giggled then, like a schoolgirl caught up in some mischief. "I dare say the porter was more than a little happy to see the back of me, for I made his life a misery to be sure, tearin' around the boat as if it were me own personal playground.
"Aye, he was forever mutterin' about devil children, and for a shiny penny he would have tossed me over the side...and quite happily too...but the Capt'n took a shine to me, so he didn't dare. More often than not I was bouncin' high on the Capt'n's knee, or helpin' him steer his mighty ship.
"When we arrived fresh on your soil, Poppa faithfully moved on, God rest his soul, doin' odd jobs to keep us fed, and when he found dirt just right for his potato crops we put down roots."
"But when did you meet Billy?" Lou demanded, impatiently inching up on her stool.
"Oh, we happened to take residence in a homesite just a stone's throw down the road from him." Her eyes slid across to the silent Willie and cracked a grin, her mind's eye seeing him again as he'd looked in those days...the good days. Her lips pursed in amusement, her earlier irritation gone like a whiff of smoke. "I dare say, he was the scruffiest boy I'd ever clapped eyes on...he and Bobby Fisher. Where ye saw one, low and behold, there'd be the other like two sides of a coin.
"It wasn't long in comin' before they let me tag along, and we'd be tearin' across the countryside in our bare feet, dogs howlin' after us and the townspeople quakin' and prayin' for saint's protection when they saw us comin'."
Her laughter rang out at the memory. "Aye, we were a sight, 'tis the truth of it. And poor Mr. Simmons," her head swept toward her friend, her eyes a royal sapphire, lethal and luring, "Ye remember him, Willie?"
Billy fought the smile playing tug-of-war with his frustration. "The apple man."
"Aye," Caitlin nodded, grinning. She tutted, shaking her head in awe, "By the saints, swearin' was his gift for sure...pronouncin' words that'd make me ears burn, heapin' dire curses on our heads and threatenin' to beat us with a thornbush!"
Buck grinned, imagining three 'innocents' raising hell. "So, what'd you do to the man?"
"'T'was not enough to get him so riled, to be sure," she announced tartly in defense. "Crikey! His eyes were like red, flamin' arrows, ragin' at us like some mad Pooka out on a tearin' frenzy."
"A Pooka?" Lou giggled in bafflement. "What's a Pooka?"
Billy intercepted the question - before Caitlin got started on the harrowing tales of the horrid creature. "Every spring we'd sneak up on his place and raid his apple trees."
"Mmm...sweet as thick molasses on a winter's day they were," her eye slid closed at the delectable memory. "'T'was a time we each filled a shirtful...me, Willie, and Bobby. We hid behind the bushes and ate as if the world was endin'."
"Yeah, and we were sick for a week," Billy added dryly.
Caitlin nodded in agreement, wrinkling her nose at the horrid memory. "'Tis a fact, I never had much taste for his apples afterward. Aye, after tossin' me insides out all the evenin' Poppa took a switch to me behind. I moaned like a banshee in the bowels of death for days afterward."
"We didn't tackle any more apple trees after that." Billy admitted, recalling his own bout with sickness - from both ends.
"Nay," she was quick to admit with a twinkling eye, "for there was plenty to occupy us around the countryside - much to the distress of the town. Many a time folks would be shakin' their fists in ripe anger, declarin' us the devil's offspring as we thundered across the fields."
"Somehow I can just imagine it," Emma murmured with humor, her eyes sliding across to Billy as she set a huge pie before them at the center of the table.
"Mmm, it looks good, Emma. What kind?" Jimmy quickly forgot the adventure at the arrival of the sweet. Grabbing a fork, he slid his plate across.
"Lemon meringue," she returned, sending across one of her many expressions of discipline. "And it's polite to let the guest have first piece."
Eyes slid to Caitlin, and even Jimmy's fork halted, such was the countenance of anguish on her face.
"Caitlin, what's wrong?" Billy murmured with a frown. The only other time he remembered that look of terror and distress was at the news of her mother's death.
Caitlin never heard his call of question, her eyes horror-stricken on the pie. Her mind suddenly transported back to Scotts Bluff on that fateful day of her friend's death.
She had already decided she was leaving - both the bank where she had the unfortunate privilege of working, and the township.
Caitlin's smile hadn't been much in evidence for the past three months. The owner of the bank who had given her employment had been killed by his overturned wagon, and his replacement turned out to be the devil's own brother.
It was just as three o'clock was approaching, signaling the end of the day when Mrs. Blake entered. Mrs. Blake was the mother of one of the miners in Scotts Bluff and tended to spoil her endlessly with sinfully tempting iced cakes and candies.
The elderly woman moved laboriously up to her window, a slight hitch in her back. Her smile came easy with the white-haired woman.
"Why, Mrs. Blake, 'tis a fine day today, and you're looking fit as a fiddle, if I may so say!"
The lady rubbed at her lower spine with a slight frown. "My back's playing up a bit today, Miss Cait."
Caitlin patted the wrinkled, leathery hand that bore witness to the many years of hard work and toil, concern in her soothing voice. "Oh, 'tis sorry I am to be hearin' it, to be sure. Perhaps, 't'will be better in a fortnight."
She retrieved the money the elder lady pushed to her, counting in automation before filling out the deposit slip. A twinkle winked in her piercing blue eyes as she grinned mischievously, "I'd wager ye've been makin' too many of those luscious lemon cream pies of late." Her eyes slid closed at the remembered scent of the beloved delicacy . "For a fact, they'd be heavenly till me mouth waters at the thought."
The smile on the elderly woman's face was quick, her pain not so noticeable as before. Caitlin O'Riley was like curling up with a steamy, corrupt ten-center before a raging fireplace on a cold, wintry day. "I just happened to have a pair cooling right now on my sill. Come by after work and take one with you. I always make up too much for John and myself."
Caitlin tossed her head and hooted in feigned distress, "By the saints, you'll fatten me up so till they'll have to roll me through the doorway, and that'd be the truth of it...but sure as faith, ye know I can't resist your pies!"
The woman nodded her pleasure. "I'll look for you then."
Caitlin bade her farewell. Poor Mrs. Blake was a lonely old soul with her son away most of the time digging in the ground for elusive gold and silver, and Caitlin knew she invited her over for loneliness' sake. Anyway, Caitlin didn't mind, being a lone soul also, and Mrs. Blake was sheer pleasure to visit with.
Caitlin never made it over the sweet lady's home as it turned out. Instead, she'd left Scotts Bluff with a summer storm raging and three deadly murderers fast on her heels...and a friend lying dead in his own blood. Even now they could be lurking just outside or in nearby Sweetwater.
Just the horrid thought had her heart thumping in double time.
When a hand suddenly clamped onto her arm, Caitlin shrieked in panic- stricken fright, sending the chair flying backward as she leaped up ready for flight.
"What's going on, Caitlin?!" Billy demanded, not to be put off again. He'd watched the transformation on her face, and his own heart lurched in unease at the horror still there.
Caitlin came back to the present with relief, fumbling to right the chair as she avoided Willie's set face. She knew he could make her tell him, but she feared telling him more than she feared leaving this haven of safety. She knew he would charge out after the murderers, and face them head on, and just the thought had terror sweeping up again in an overwhelming blanket of distress.
Her glassy eyes besought Emma, her voice hitched. "I'll be foregoin' the sweet tonight if ye'll bear me no grudge, Mistress Shannon."
"Of course not." Emma enfolded the woman across the shoulders in a motherly way, concern causing her frown. "You must be dead on your feet. You can sleep in the room here at the house."
The thought wiped distress clean away as she pleaded in despair, "Nay... I'll not be puttin' ye out of your bed!" It was unthinkable that she had put this kind woman to so much trouble already.
"You won't be," she added firmly as Caitlin geared up for more argument. "There's more than enough room for the both of us."
Caitlin frowned, chewing worriedly at her bottom lip. Oh, what a mess everything was at the moment!
Desperation, terror and panic ate at her like a feasting parasite, and Caitlin felt overwhelmed by the combination. Wringing her hands in vexation, her eyes met Emma's, and in them she found the same warmth and security of a mother's eyes, and a quiet sense of peace slowly settled over her like a soft, misty rain. She sighed a calming, relieved breath. "Aye, if it's your pleasure, then I reckon I accept, gratefully. I'll just visit the backhouse before I retire."
Billy moved up. "Come on, I'll take you across."
By experience Caitlin knew what was coming. She knew away from the buffer of the others she couldn't withstand Willie's coercion and would be spilling her guts before two minutes had passed...and put him in danger.
She also knew than even now the trio could be lurking just outside, waiting for some unsuspecting soul to put in an appearance, and Caitlin knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill again.
She'd rather face them herself than to put even one of these sainted people in danger - even Willie.
Aye, especially Willie!
Her head jerked up, sparkling embers now alight in her eyes, her fighting spirit back fullswing. "Nay, ye won't. Ye'll not be coddlin' me like some incompetent orphan who happened along for the crumbs from your table! For pity's sake, stay and finish your dessert. By the heavens, I'll be fine! Anyway, ye think I want ye holdin' me hand at nature's call?!"
Billy stood, silently fuming.
Emma hid a smile, coming to the rescue. "I've already laid out a nightgown for you. Lay your other things aside, and come morning I'll wash them out."
Caitlin's smile was full of warmth, feeling secure by the simple touch of the woman. "Sure as faith, Mistress Shannon, ye bring back memories of me mum. A more kind creature the good Lord never put breath in."
Emma returned her smile in pleasure of the compliment. "Thank you, Caitlin."
"Aye." She nodded, her eyes moving to a tight-lipped Willie. Whatever bitterness might have happened between them in the past, it was still heaven to see him again.
On impulse, as Caitlin did most things, she rushed forward and fell against his chest, resting her cheek against the smooth cotton of his shirt. She felt his heart beating strong and steady. Lifting her face, she placed a fleeting kiss on his cheek before moving out through the doorway and into the night.
So taken by surprise at the action, Billy stood watching as she swiftly moved through the door without a backward glance. He was sorely tempted to charge after her, face whatever wrath she tossed his way and escort her across anyway...and to blazes with her wishes!
He moved to the open door to watch her dart across the yard and around the end of the house. His gut twisted inside. There was a mixture of contentment and expectation about her being here...and unease. Trouble wouldn't be far behind - he'd bet his next month's paycheck on it. Caitlin might now wear a woman's body, but he remembered the red-headed girl that could turn an entire town upside down. He quaked at the thought of what Caitlin the woman could do. Whatever trouble she'd found, he knew it wouldn't be small... or long in coming.
The thought was sobering. He didn't know what she'd gotten into to put such horror in her eyes, but Caitlin never did anything by half measures. No doubt there would soon be a time of reckoning. When that time came, he wanted to be ready.
Geez! Heaven only knew what kind of slugs were prowling around outside - or how many!
With a decisive action Billy retrieved his hat, setting it firmly on his head. He wouldn't follow Caitlin. What he would do was scout around to make sure no low life was lurking around in the bushes.
"Where're you going?" Teaspoon demanded, noting the boy's pie still untouched. Leaving food uneaten was unheard of around the place, especially with six growing boys fast approaching manhood.
"I'll be back directly," he mumbled, not taking the time to excuse himself properly.
Jimmy raised amused and perplexed brows, tossing his napkin on the table in finality. "Well...now I've seen it all. I always wondered what it'd take to make Billy lose his appetite."
Cody's pie sat on the plate like a monument.
Jimmy slid a glance around the table to rest on Emma, reaching across to retrieve the sweet before someone else could beat him to it. "You keep making Irish stew, Emma, and the rest of us might get our fair share."
Teaspoon snorted, diving into his pie before greedy fingers made a play for his own. These high strung younguns and all their fluff made a man old before his time!
To be continued...Chapter V
Copyright 1998-This work is not to be reproduced without the permission of the author
The Way Station
Campfire Tales
