The Sword of the Banshee (30 page)

“After you left Ireland, the heart of the rebellion died. Most of the repparees went back to their lives as tenant farmers, but some of us turned our eyes toward America. Several months ago, I came to the Colony of South Carolina. It was there that I met an Irishman named Calleigh who was leading men to freedom. He told me of you.”

India stopped and looked at him. “Calleigh brought you here?”

“Yes, as sort of a gift to ya. He knew that you were lonely.”

India stared at Cian, utterly flabbergasted. She blinked trying to make sense of it all. She mumbled at last, “Well, he needn’t worry about me.”

Cian pulled her to him. “All that matters is that we are together again, fightin' for Irish freedom.”

India stared at him mutely.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Oh nothing,” she said shaking her head. “I have become so used to the idea of freedom for Americans; I forgot why I came in the first place, to find freedom for the Irish.”

They walked along the shore in silence.

“You have changed, Lady Fitzpatrick.”

“Indeed,” she nodded. “Lady Fitzpatrick no longer exists.”

“I will go on loving her nevertheless,” he said firmly.

*           *            *

Cian O’Donnell was given a position of leadership in the rebellion almost immediately. Because of his experience with the Irish Rebellion, he had uncanny instincts about British strategy and moved up quickly in the ranks. His charismatic personality contributed as well. For this reason he was a valuable instrument in recruitment, especially among the Irish.

India saw him every few weeks, usually at meetings then afterward they would walk by the river and talk. “You know that I am committed to the Revolution and nothing else,” she would say to him when he spoke to her of love.

“Then I shall wait,” he would always reply.

In the autumn, news came of Washington’s defeat at Long Island and the British occupation of New York. Morale of the patriots was low across Delaware and Pennsylvania. Everyone worried about the possibility of the British occupying Philadelphia. O’Donnell, India, and the officers decided to distract and drain British resources by launching a series of raids so vast and comprehensive that the Redcoats would never have time to occupy Philadelphia.

To add to the tension, the Colonies were being overrun by criminals masquerading as patriots. They would use the excuse of patriotism to terrorize Loyalists and commit robbery and random acts of violence.

It was a sultry autumn day when India decided to visit the tailor Antoine Parnell about some new uniforms. She decided to leave early in the day before the sun soared high in the sky. Even though it was a short drive to Wilmington, perspiration rolled down India’s back soaking her light blue gown. When she stepped from the carriage, she felt light-headed and faint, welcoming the cool darkness of Parnell’s shop when she stepped inside.

“Lady Allen, this is a surprise,” Mr. Parnell exclaimed, bowing politely.

She dropped down onto a chair, removed her straw hat and began fanning herself. The tailor brought her a mug of water, and India drank it down. “I am most grateful, Mr. Parnell.”

Although dressed fashionably in an almond colored vest and britches, the tailor was in his shirt sleeves. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and gave his braided hair a glossy sheen.

“You just missed, Mr. Calleigh,” he said.

India’s heart jumped into her throat.
So he was back
. Trying to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Mr. Calleigh has returned?”

“Yes, he brought me his latest sharp-shooter to be fitted for a suit of clothes.”

Trying to be matter-of-fact, India said, “I was unaware that he had his sharpshooters fitted for clothing.”

“This is an unusual circumstance,” Parnell replied. He pulled the drape back from his lodging and said, “Please join us.”

A young woman with auburn hair stepped into the room. India stared at her, waiting for the sharpshooter to step into the room, but no one appeared.

“Lady Allen, this is Barbara Molloy,” said Mr. Parnell.

The young woman smiled at India and curtsied. India ran her eyes over the attractive female.  She was tall, slim and poised. India asked, “
This
is the new sharpshooter?”

Parnell cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Madame.”

“What sort of clothing has Calleigh ordered for her?”

“Men’s clothing to be sure. He wants her to blend with the others when they are on raids.”

India ran her eyes over the girl again then stood up. “Carry on, Mr. Parnell,” she snapped and left the shop.

*           *            *

India returned home and went up to her room taking the stairs two at a time. When she reached her bed chamber, she dropped her gown and hoop onto the floor, stepping into her riding habit and boots. She was flushed and covered in perspiration, but she didn’t notice, she was too angry. In a flash, she was on horseback riding down to camp to see Quinn Calleigh.

When she arrived, the men stared at her. Seldom had they seen Lady Allen sitting astride and seldom had they seen her with her hair down about her shoulders. The wind had loosened her pins, and it had fallen down around her face in tangles.

“Where is Calleigh?” she demanded as she dismounted. Before anyone could answer, she saw him sitting on a stone fence with one leg up, smoking. He watched her with a smirk as she strode up to him.

“I want to talk with you,” she snapped, her eyes a bright green.

He didn’t move, although his brows shot up. “‘You do, now.”

“Why have you recruited a girl as one of your sharp-shooters?”

He narrowed his eyes, the smoke curling around his head. “Since when do you select sharpshooters? May I remind you that you were the one who advised us that women were frequently superior in marksmanship to men?”

“You obviously recruited this female for her looks not her abilities.”

“Oh did I? Well then let’s put her to the test,” he said, jerking his head toward the road. “Here she is now.”

Barbara Molloy waved to Calleigh as she dismounted. Her clothing was homespun and threadbare, but she carried herself with the grace of a queen. Poised and elegant, she thanked Ian for taking her horse and walked over to them. She smiled and said to India, “Hello again, Lady Allen.”

India did not reply.

“Miss Molloy, Lady Allen would like to see an example of your marksmanship,” said Quinn.

India noticed that Barbara held Quinn’s eye for a moment before turning toward her. “Of course,” she replied. “I would enjoy that.”

Barbara reached up to tie her hair back, showing her full breasts straining against her gown. India wanted to see if Quinn was looking, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“Thank you, but first I have some questions,” India said. “Where are you from?”

“Not far from here. Highland Meadows, in the Colony of Delaware,” she said with a wide smile. The girl seemed friendly and open.

Turning to Calleigh, India quizzed, “How did you find her?”

Calleigh slid down from the wall. “I met her father a few months back when we were conducting raids in the area. He told me that he had a daughter who was an excellent shot, but I never believed him. Josiah is very outgoing, to say the least, and can exaggerate.” He looked at Barbara and they both laughed, sharing the joke.

India pursed her lips.

“I was drinking with him one afternoon and I asked Bar—Miss Molloy to demonstrate. I was dumbfounded. Here she had been near me all time, and I didn’t know it.”

India’s eyes widened. She did not like the way Quinn said, “Near me.”

Barbara, on the other hand,
did
like it and a blush ran from her cheeks down onto her neck.

“Shall we?” Calleigh said, gesturing toward the meadow.

He picked up a crate of pigeons and carried them to the open field. “Don’t worry,” he said to India. “These are not Phineas’ little friends.”

Ian Calleigh walked behind them with several Kentucky Long rifles that were primed and ready for the demonstration. Barbara walked some distance away from them, far enough that India believed it would be impossible for her to be accurate. To qualify for service with the sharpshooters, a marksman had to fire at and repeatedly hit a seven-inch target at two hundred and fifty yards.

Quinn released the first bird. With the confidence of a seasoned marksman, Barbara lifted the rifle, took aim and fired, hitting the bird squarely. Calleigh continued to release bird after bird, increasing the difficulty each time for the girl, until India had seen enough. She nodded, turned and left.

*           *            *

It wasn’t long before Calleigh entered into a liaison with Barbara Molloy. He was completely taken with the beautiful young woman. He loved to gather her long auburn locks into his hands and run his lips along her long neck. The men were taken with her as well. They all fought for her attention, teasing, making jokes and showing off whenever she was near.

Late that fall, the sharpshooters left camp and traveled through Pennsylvania and New Jersey harassing the Redcoats throughout the winter. Quinn knew the British would never anticipate raids in the heavy snow and cold, and he took advantage of this assumption.

As expected, Barbara was an excellent addition to the sharpshooter team. They executed raids up and down the seaboard leading the British on a chase all over the Colonies, picking off officers like they were on a turkey shoot. Good fortune was upon them. They lost only one sharpshooter that season.

Quinn was successful in another arena as well; he had forgotten India Allen at last. He focused all of his attention on Barbara Molloy, putting his infatuation for India behind him. In the end, he was glad that he had found O’Donnell for her. They were the Old World Irish and meant for each other. Barbara and Quinn were of the new order, the up and coming patriots of America.

When the sharpshooters returned to the Brandywine Valley that spring 1777, there was wide-spread celebration. To get some needed rest, the team agreed to conduct raids locally for a while.

With surly resentment, India watched Quinn and Barbara at the meetings. No longer was India the vortex the men rotated around, Barbara Molloy had taken over. For the first time in her life, India felt jealousy, and she despised herself for it. The only one who continued his devotion for India was Cian O’Donnell.

Chapter 28

In April 1777, a send-off was planned for the sharpshooters. India carefully avoided the festivity by deliberately planning a trip to Philadelphia to meet with her contacts. She couldn’t stomach watching Quinn and Barbara fawn over each other.

It was a warm spring day, and India decided to ride her mare to the city rather than take her carriage. She withheld this information from Cian because he would comment on her recklessness riding alone.

She enjoyed the ride up. The sun was strong, and the mud was starting to dry on the roads. The songbirds had returned from the south, and the woods were splashed with trilliums. When she arrived in town, the city was bustling. Her first stop was Singer Rum Brokerage.

The bell jingled as India stepped inside the dark office. Mrs. Singer looked up and smiled. She was sitting at her tall desk writing in her ledger. The other two clerks nodded a greeting.

Malachi Singer stood up from his desk at the back of the room. Deliberately he pretended not to recognize her. He said in a voice thick with German accent, “May I help you?”

“Yes, I have a rather large order, please,” India replied.

“This way,” he said, gesturing toward his desk.

India sat down across from him. After taking up a quill and some paper, Mr. Singer scanned the room with his dark eyes and said, “I have news. The British supply orders are increasing. I believe troops are slowly moving into the area. They are ordering large amounts of rum from me because they don’t want to draw attention at the quay.”

India nodded. “I have been expecting troop movement. Philadelphia is next. What routes are they taking?”

“I don’t know yet. I will send the information with Hiram.”

     “Thank you for taking my order, Mr. Singer,” India announced, standing up. “Good day to you.”

India stopped outside the door of the brokerage to pull off her fine leather gloves and take off her smartly plumed riding hat. She was going to Peg’s Run and needed to dress down.

It was quiet when she arrived. It was the afternoon, and the streets and alleys were deserted. A church bell rang in the distance. Only a few whores were lounging on steps smoking. A laundress rolled a cart down the cobblestone street, echoing loudly between the buildings.

Lucretia’s tent was empty when she arrived. India realized that it was too early in the day to find diviners telling fortunes, so she stopped at The Red Unicorn instead. The tavern was deserted as well. It smelled of stale beer and smoke when India stepped in and the floor creaked loudly.