Prairie Fire (30 page)

Jack took a deep breath and tried to calm himself as every eye in the gathering focused on him. Beside him, Caitrin went as still and cold as a stone. Rosie began fanning herself with a handkerchief.

“I say we run the vermin out of town!” Jimmy cried out. “The woman of the Cornwall family abused my wife and nearly robbed me of my own unborn child. She’s a witch, so she is, a Cornish witch. She conked our Sheena in the head with a poker, and her son—right over there—threw the poor woman to the ground. Sure, the Cornwalls would have killed Sheena if they could!”

“Jimmy.” Seth took a step toward the Irishman and laid a hand on his arm. “I said, this is a time for prayer. We’ll handle the matter of the Cornwalls later on.”

“Nay, we’ll handle it now! I won’t stand for another day of livin’ in the same town with them Cornish devils. You’ve seen the daughter yourself, Seth, and she’s a madwoman sure as I live and breathe. She’s tried to drown herself in the creek, and she threw herself in front of the stagecoach. She’s a danger, a blazin’ danger, I say!”

Caitrin squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I had no idea Jimmy would do something like this.”

“He’d better stop talking about Lucy,” he growled, the blood racing in his veins. “I don’t like it.”

“That Cornish madwoman is going to hurt one of us,” Jimmy continued, heedless of Seth’s attempts to move him from the stage. “She’s got a demon in her, so she does.”

“That’s enough, O’Toole!” Jack shouted, coming to his feet.

“Get off the wagon before I throw you off.”

“No, Jack,” Caitrin croaked, tears squeezing from her eyes. “Please calm yourself!”

“I’ll not get off the wagon until I’ve had my say, Cornish!” Jimmy cried. “’Tis you I’m talkin’ about. ’Tis your mother has tried to kill our Sheena. ’Twas you yourself who knocked her to the ground and near cast the child from her belly. Now look at you there with our Caitrin!”

Jack glared as the man’s face grew red. The crowd’s murmuring intensified, and their rumblings of discontent filled the night air. All around him, people were staring and muttering snatches of affirmation for Jimmy O’Toole’s tirade. Jack didn’t care if this was a prayer meeting and God himself stood among them, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking poorly of his family. Felicity Cornwall was his mother, and Lucy was his sister … and he’d fight to the death before he’d let harm come to either of them.

“You’ve bewitched our Caitrin,” the Irishman growled, “and now you’re tryin’ to work your evil on Seth and Rosie Hunter.”

He faced the crowd. “Let me tell you people about the Cornish. They’re liars and cheaters and thieves, all of ’em. You saw how Jack Cornwall tried to steal Chipper right away from his own papa, didn’t you?”

“Hold on, there, O’Toole!” Jack shouted, unable to contain his growing fury. “Get off the wagon!”

“Nay, I’ll speak my mind to these good folk. Jack Cornwall frightened the ladies and smashed our parties into smithereens!

He stole Seth’s rifle right off his wall. He trespassed on my land, fed my good oats to his devil of a black horse, slept in my barn, and wooed my own wife’s sister for his evil purposes.”

“You leave Caitrin out of this!” Jack said, pulling away from her and heading for the wagon. “I’ve never done a thing to hurt that woman.”

“Harmin’ women is his favorite pastime,” Jimmy told the crowd. “You can see my poor
donsie
wife there with her head in a bandage and her feet barely able to walk from the injuries of that Cornishman, can’t you? And there’s no tellin’ what wickedness the man has done to his own sister. You’ve seen the lunatic driftin’ in the creek in the middle of winter, tryin’ to end her own life. You’ve seen her shriekin’ and carryin’ on at the dance when Rustemeyer kindly offered her a piece o’ cake, haven’t you? Aye, you’ve seen the demon that lives with her, and his name is Jack Cornwall!”

“Stop slandering my sister!” Jack roared, leaping up onto the stage. So much for peace and purity. He grabbed Jimmy O’Toole by the collar, took hold of the backside of his britches, gave a big heave-ho, and tossed the Irishman off the wagon.

The crowd’s shock turned quickly to fury. With a howl of rage, men stormed onto the platform. The first one landed Jack a glancing blow to the jaw. The second hit him square in the stomach.

Anger poured through Jack’s veins. With the strength of every muscle that had ever forged iron, he threw himself into the fray. Though he could hear Seth shouting at him to run, he slammed a fellow straight in the nose and felt the crunch of snapping cartilage. He knocked another man clear across the stage. He caught one attacker on the cheekbone, and he drove a fist into another’s gut.

Somebody smashed a heavy black Bible over Jack’s head. The world swam for a moment as his legs buckled. Another fellow rammed his fist into Jack’s eye. Yet another man’s chop to the stomach knocked him to his knees.

Coughing and spitting out blood, Jack lunged upward again, throwing a forearm into an assailant’s chest and knocking him flat. Maybe he was a goner, Jack thought, but he wouldn’t go down easy. Screams and shouts rang in his ears as he fought his way across the platform. He elbowed somebody out of his way and dodged a fist directed at his nose. A man shoved him from behind. He stumbled forward as a gun went off.

Searing, blinding pain tore into the back of his leg. He tumbled to the ground. A blow landed on his jaw, another on his temple.

Someone kicked him in the stomach. He gasped twice, unable to breathe. And this time, the stars went out.

“Let me go, Rosie!” Caitrin cried, trying to pull out of the woman’s grasp. “Sure, they’ll tear Jack to bits!”

“You can’t go over there, Caitrin!” Rosie said. “Look, here’s Seth.”

Her husband raced up to the women, took them by the arms, and hauled them away from the meeting ground. “Come on, you two, let’s get out of here.”

“But I heard a gun, Seth.” Caitrin strained toward the wagon. “I’m sure I did! What if Jack needs help? He’s in terrible trouble!”

“Jack Cornwall makes his own trouble.”

“This wasn’t his fault! Jimmy provoked him.” Caitrin struggled as Seth dragged her and Rosie up the road toward the mercantile.
Oh, God, dear God! Please help Jack! Help me! Help us all.

“Look, there’s Mrs. Cornwall coming out of one of the Cornwall tents!” Rosie said. “Seth, you must tell her what’s happened.”

“She shouldn’t get messed up in that craziness,” Seth barked. “She’s liable to get herself killed.”

“Mrs. Cornwall!” Caitrin cried, heedless of Seth’s admonition.

“Miss Murphy?” she responded. “That was a short prayer meeting. I was just fetching Chipper a blanket from the other tent.”

“Oh, Mrs. Cornwall, you must go after Jack,” Caitrin said.

“There’s been a terrible fight. Sure, we’ve heard a gunshot.”

“Gunshot!” Felicity glanced in the direction of the wagon and wrung her hands. “But I can’t leave Chipper. And then there’s Lucy! She’s not doing well tonight. All day she’s been dwelling on those Yankee soldiers and … and the things they did to her. She’s troubled. Very troubled. I thought I might even need to fetch Jack back from the prayer meeting. Oh, heaven, what have those wicked O’Tooles done to my son? I told him I wouldn’t have him marrying into that family, no matter how much he thinks he loves you. Now they’ve shot my boy, and I can’t leave Lucy at a time like this!”

Breathing hard, Caitrin stared at Felicity Cornwall. What was the woman saying? Yankee soldiers had harmed Lucy … and Jack loved Caitrin… .

“Papa! Mama!” Chipper dashed out of one of the Cornwalls’ tents and threw his arms around Rosie’s skirt. “Aunt Lucy’s scrubbin’ herself raw in there!”

“Goodness gracious,” Rosie said, kneeling and tucking the child into a warm hug. “How about if we head home and find you an oatmeal cookie and some fresh milk? Then you can tell your mama all about it, sweetie.”

“You’d better stay here with Lucy,” Seth told Mrs. Cornwall. “I’m going to take Miss Murphy to her house, and then I’ll make sure my wife and son get home safe. If I know Rolf Rustemeyer at all, he’ll be trying to settle the crowd and help out your son. Maybe by the time I get back to the wagon things will have calmed down enough that we can pull Jack away without getting ourselves killed in the process.”

“Yes, Mr. Hunter,” Felicity said. “Please help us!”

“What about Lucy?” Caitrin called, as Seth tugged her down the road toward her soddy. “Can I do anything?”

“She’s scrubbing herself, Miss Murphy,” Felicity answered, staring ahead hopelessly. “She gets to scrubbing sometimes … uses sandpaper and a horsehair brush … and nearly takes her own skin off.”

“Dear God!” Caitrin whispered. “Help us all!”

Caitrin was on her knees beside her bed when a knock fell on the door. Her heart contracted, and she squeezed her hands together.
Please, Father, let Jack be all right! Oh, Lord, bring something good out
of this terrible mess! Give us some reason to hope!

“Caitrin Murphy? You in there?”

It was Jimmy O’Toole.

“I’m here,” she said. “Just a moment.”

She stood and hurried to the soddy door. After lifting the bar, she threw open the door on its leather hinges. Her brother-in-law stood outside as a huddled, blanket-shrouded figure cowered behind him.

“Is that Jack?” she whispered.

“Nay,” Jimmy said. “Your not-so-secret beau is over at the mercantile getting the lead cut out of his leg by Seth Hunter. This here’s your sister, who’s so beside herself I daren’t take her home to the
brablins
. Sheena’s been weepin’ like a blasted fountain, and I can’t make her talk to me. Take her, if you will, Caitrin. She’s mortal scared, so she is, and I know you’ll have the words to comfort her.”

“Sheena!” Caitrin clasped the woman in her arms and led her to a chair. “Are you all right? Is your baby well?”

The blanket fell back, and Sheena looked up, her great green eyes swimming with tears. Her red hair was topsy-turvy on her head, and her apron had fallen right off her dress. She sniffled and hugged herself around the middle.

“Sure, I’m well enough,” she whispered. “But I can’t stay here. I need to look after the wee ones.”

“Nay, you won’t,” Jimmy barked. “You’ll stay here with your sister until I’ve settled them into bed and all of us have had a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh, Jimmy, let Sheena go home,” Caitrin said.

“And frighten the
brablins
with her weepin’?” Jimmy shook his head. “If there ever was a man put upon, ’tis me, I’ll tell you that much. Them Cornish is the root of all the trouble. My poor Sheena’s laid up thanks to that devil woman, Felicity Cornwall. And now we’ve had a row the size of which would flatten Topeka. Men runnin’ this way and that. Ladies shriekin’. Cornwall himself is shot, and several others has lost teeth, broke noses, and got their jaws knocked outta joint. Leave it to a Cornishman to start up a fray like that one.”

“Jack didn’t start the trouble—”

“I ain’t finished yet,” Jimmy said, taking a step toward Caitrin. “I was on my way over to your soddy with my poor wife there, when who should come runnin’ out of the Cornwall camp but that lunatic lass. She was naked as a frog and all scratched up and bleedin’. And after her came her own mother, chasin’ her across the prairie. Now, I don’t know what to make of
that
, Caitrin, but what they’re both of them mad as hatters.”

“I can explain, Jimmy.”

“You’ll explain it to the fairies, so you will. I’ll not listen to your bold tongue nor be swayed by your stubborn ways. I’m not like Sheena, ready to overlook the sins of a blood relative. Sure
you
, Caitrin Murphy, have caused every bit as much trouble as them Cornish!”

“I have not!”

“Aye, you have. All I wanted in comin’ to this land was a bit o’ peace and quiet. I built my soddy and plowed my fields. I planned to take care of my
brablins
and my wee wife and give us all a good life. But glory be, now we’ve a mercantile and a post office and a church and a smithy and a confounded prayer meetin’. We’ve lunatics and lechers and poker-wieldin’ grannies about. We’ve more people crossin’ that blasted bridge in one day than I ever wanted to see in a lifetime. And you, my dear lass, have been nearly the death of your own sister—consortin’ with Cornishmen and takin’ lunatics into your own home. Well, I’ll tell you this. I’ve had enough of it, so I have. I’m tellin’ you now, as I’ve already told Sheena—you’re goin’ back to Ireland, lassie. The first stagecoach east tomorrow, you’re on it. And good riddance to bad rummage.”