“All right,” I said, frowning. “But whatever for?”
“We have reason to believe there are gun smugglers in the woods around this house.”
“Oh my,” I said again, and the fear in my voice was very real. “Well, you may certainly search the house, Captain. Can I call you Captain?” I stepped aside, out of his way. “It’s awfully wet for being outside. And I was just in the barn. I didn’t see anyone. And if you all go tromping through the barn, our poor mare is likely to lose her foal. Could I just escort a few of you to peep inside so we don’t upset her?”
“Who else is in the house, ma’am?” the Auxie asked, dismissing my request.
“For goodness’ sake, Captain!” I insisted, stamping my foot. “I’m getting absolutely soaked to the skin.” The man’s eyes dropped to my chest and rose again. “All of you, please come inside if you’re going to come inside.”
The captain—he hadn’t argued with the rank I’d assigned him—barked orders for six of the men to circle the house and wait for further instructions and the rest to come inside with him. There were ten men in total, and four of them eagerly stepped into the foyer and let me close the door behind them.
“Can I take your coats and hats, gentlemen?” I asked, knowing they wouldn’t comply.
“How many in the house, ma’am?” the captain asked again, his eyes roving up the stairs. A lamp from the upper corridor and the light I’d left on in the kitchen were the only lights on in the house. I flicked on the chandelier overhead, flooding the men in light.
“My son—he’s six and he’s sleeping, so please search quietly—my mother-in-law, and a servant girl. The doctor is in Dublin. Our overseer is in the barn with the mare. His son is probably with him too, though he might have given up and gone to bed.”
“They were there when you left?”
“Yes, Captain. But I left them with a bottle of whiskey, so they weren’t too unhappy about waiting up with the mare.” I smiled conspiratorially.
“You’re an American, ma’am?” one of the other men asked, and I realized I recognized him from Sligo. He was one of the men who broke the windows of Lyons department store.
“Yes, I am. I haven’t mastered the brogue, I’m afraid.”
“No loss there,” the man said, and his captain pointed up the stairs. “Barrett, you and Ross search the rooms upstairs. Walters and I will search down here.”
“Do be mindful, please, Officers Barrett and Ross,” I pled sweetly. “My mother-in-law is quite crotchety. I wouldn’t want either of you to be struck with a poker.”
They blanched and hesitated before traipsing up the stairs. I wavered, not knowing which men I should shadow, hoping Brigid would keep her head and help Eoin keep his. I had no doubt Maeve would be fine.
“Could I get you something to warm you—some tea or brandy, Captain?” I asked lightly.
“No, ma’am,” the captain said, striding through the foyer. I stayed with him, making inane conversation, and he ignored me, searching my room, the bathroom, and the kitchen before the man named Walters called out to him.
“Captain? What do you make of this?”
My heart thundered as I accompanied the captain to the back of the house, where Walters was standing in Thomas’s clinic, staring at the open cupboards and drawers, which had clearly been rummaged through.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Captain?” I said innocently.
“The rest of the house is as neat as a pin. Who needed medical attention?”
“The mare, Captain!” I laughed. “I was looking for laudanum. The doctor hides it from me. He worries that I like it too much. But my father told me that if you put a little on a horse’s tongue, it’ll calm them right down. Have you ever tried putting laudanum on a horse’s tongue, Captain?”
He looked at me doubtfully.
“I can see you haven’t. It’s easier said than done.”
“Did you find any?” he queried.
“No. I didn’t. But I made a mess, didn’t I?”
“I think we need to go see that mare, ma’am.”
“Yes, sir. Let me grab my shawl, please.”
I walked through the house, breathing through my nose to stay calm, smiling as the two constables came down the stairs. There’d been no commotion, and I prayed Eoin had stayed asleep through it all.
I pulled a shawl from my wardrobe and stuffed my feet into Anne’s old boots, tying them as swiftly as I could. I didn’t want the captain searching without me. I wanted his eyes to see the picture I had already painted. I just prayed the men in the barn and the guns were long gone.
We walked through the drizzle, some cadets walking to the edge of the lawn, looking into the trees, and some remaining back at the house. A lantern still flickered from the barn, and I stumbled purposefully, reaching for the captain. He slowed, and I took his arm with a grateful smile.
“Well, we’ve had an adventure, haven’t we?” I said. “The doctor will be all ears when he gets home. And hopefully we’ll have a new foal as well.”
“When do you expect the doctor, Mrs. . . . ?”
“Gallagher,” I supplied. “Tomorrow or the next day. He used to go to Dublin a great deal more when Lord French was governor general. The doctor’s late father was a friend of Lord and Lady French. Do you know Lord French, Captain?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure, Mrs. Gallagher,” the captain replied, but I heard a softening in his tone. Thomas might not have wanted me to share that information, but under the circumstance, a friendship with a British loyalist could only reassure the captain.
When we walked into the barn, Daniel O’Toole was leading the sweat-slicked mare around in circles, stopping every now and again to murmur to her before he began walking again. His shirt was still covered in blood, and his one arm, his shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows, was streaked with it.
He jerked in surprise upon seeing us—a convincing act, though I doubted the fear in his face was anything but genuine.
“How’s the mare, Mr. O’Toole?” I said brightly, as if the men around me were simply special visitors. Daniel’s eyes snapped to mine, noting the American accent.
“I’m walking her for a bit, Mrs. Gallagher. Sometimes it helps.”
“You’re covered in blood, man,” the captain snapped.
“Oh, I am that, sir!” Mr. O’Toole agreed heartily. “It looks worse than ’tis. Her waters broke when I checked her. But I felt the wee wan’s head, I did. Two little front hooves too.”
“Are you the only one here, Mr. O’Toole?” the captain barked, clearly not interested in the grittier details of birthing a foal.
“My son Robbie is in the bunk in back. He’s sleepin’ now. Had a little too much to drink, he did. But it’s almost dawn, Captain. We’ve been up with the mare all night.”
The captain was unimpressed, and he walked the length of the barn, directing some of his men to climb to the loft and another to search the back room. I held my breath, afraid for Robbie. His bandages could give us away. But the man returned minutes later, wiping his mouth. I had an image of an open bottle of fine Irish whiskey sitting ever so innocently where a tired, wet constable could help himself.
“It’s just as the man says, Captain,” he said amiably.
“Mrs. Gallagher, we will be scouring the fields and the shore over the next few hours. I would recommend that you keep your servants and your family inside. I will check back sometime tomorrow.”
“Are you sure I can’t offer you something to drink, Captain? I will have a full staff at dawn, and my cook could prepare a large breakfast for you and your men.”
He hesitated, and I wondered if I had gone too far. The sooner they left, the better.
“No. Thank you, madam.” The captain sighed. His men began filing out, and just before the captain turned to go, he cocked his head. “Mr. O’Toole, have you ever heard of giving laudanum to a mare in labor?”
Daniel frowned, and my heart sank. “I’ve never had any to spare, Captain, but iffen I did, I don’t see how it could hurt.”
“Huh. Mrs. Gallagher seems convinced of it.”
“Well, the lady would know, Captain. She’s very clever.” Daniel nodded, not even looking at the man. Hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat, and I followed the captain from the barn.
The rain stopped just after dawn, and the sun rose on Garvagh Glebe as though the night before had been one of peaceful slumber. Robbie O’Toole gave us all a fright when he staggered out onto the lawn, disoriented and howling in pain. His legs and his lungs worked fine. We spirited him into the house and into my room. I was afraid of infection setting in but didn’t dare remove his bandages to check the ugly wound. The bleeding had stopped, and he had no fever, so I dosed him with the same syrup Thomas had given me, and he fell into a deep—and mercifully quiet—sleep.
The men with Robbie had dispersed into the night, the guns hidden in a cellar located directly below where Daniel O’Toole had paced with the pregnant mare—she wasn’t even close to delivering, which presented another concern if the Tans came back. But for now, we’d escaped the worst of it, and the O’Tooles, except for Robbie, congregated in the kitchen at Garvagh Glebe. Maggie, the mother of the crew, kept vigil over her oldest son, and I did my best to keep her brood inside, just as the captain had instructed. He came back at sundown, reporting that a patrol would continue in the area. I thanked him as though he and his men were keeping us all safe and waved him off like he was an old friend.
I had questions for Daniel, and I knew he had questions for me, but we both stayed quiet, going about the day as best we could, eyes and ears peeled for Thomas’s return. At dusk, Daniel took his children home, as exhausted as I after a night with no sleep, and Maggie remained at Garvagh Glebe to sit with Robbie. Brigid cornered me briefly, hissing a stream of questions about the Tans, what they’d wanted, and why Robert O’Toole was lying wounded in my bed. I didn’t tell her about the men in the barn or the weapons they were hiding. I pled innocent and told her none of us knew what had happened. Robbie had been hit by a stray bullet, and we were taking care of him.
She complained mightily, cursing the English and the IRA, grumbling about truces that weren’t truces, doctors who weren’t ever home, and women who kept dangerous secrets. I ignored the last bit and prayed harder for Thomas to return. I had been sleeping in his empty bed in the room beside Eoin’s because I’d been ousted from my own.
Thomas returned in the early morning hours, four days after he’d left. Maggie O’Toole had intercepted him as soon as he entered the house, and he’d removed Robbie’s bandages, sterilized and irrigated the wound as best he could, and wrapped it up again, telling Maggie that Robbie had the luck of the Irish. He might not have a working right eye, but he would still have a life. Daniel O’Toole had come in not long after Thomas, and he’d filled Thomas in on the excitement he’d missed. The O’Tooles had failed to mention I was asleep in his bed, and Thomas had come in and lain down beside me, waking me and surprising us both.