Read Online Dark Rosaleen by OBE Michael Nicholson - Free Book Online Page B

Whatever he intended for her would be nothing to what he was certain to do to them. They knew his bullwhip would return to Kinsale and God help man, women or child that had its attention.
    It was not a long walk to Keegan’s schoolhouse. It was squat and thatched and the stone had been freshly whitewashed. By the side of it was a semicircle of small cottages bordering a patch of grass. Beyond that, a grand view of the sea.
    Keegan said, ‘I’ll put the kettle on. You would like tea?’
    Kate nodded. Together they undressed the boy, washed his wounds in warm soapy water and laid him in a mattress of straw. The whip had cut deep but the wounds were clean and Keegan said the warm air would dry them and heal them.
    ‘He’ll have awful scars,’ he said. ‘They will last him all his life. He will not forget Mr Ogilvie.’
    Keegan was a neat man in himself and all things around him. He had dark-brown hair, long sideburns and grey eyes that were never still, set deep in his ruddy face. He was small but with powerful shoulders and strong arms and might have been a stonemason or a woodcutter. He looked at odds with his schoolroom. There was a small square window on its southern wall. Nailed above the door was a piece of wood engraved with the words, ‘ Céad míle fáilte ’.
    ‘It means a hundred thousand welcomes,’ he said. ‘And never in my life have I been happier to offer one of them to someone than I am now to you. You have honoured me by your visit here.’
    ‘May I come back tomorrow?’ she asked him. ‘I could bring some balm and new dressings. Maybe a little fruit.’
    ‘Would that be wise, miss?’
    ‘My name is Kathryn, Mr Keegan. I prefer to be called Kate.’
    They shook hands.
    ‘Why should it matter whether it’s wise or not?’ she asked. ‘I would like to help.’
    ‘I’m not sure that coming back will help him more,’ he answered.
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘Ogilvie is a vicious man, Miss Kate. We know his cruelty here.’
    She sipped her tea. ‘I’m not afraid of him. He cannot hurt me.’
    ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I am not afraid for you. You are of his people. But he can harm us and he will. He will be back and I fear some of us might not see the end of summer.’
    ‘Then I must come back here again. Don’t you see? As long as I keep coming, he cannot hurt you. He can do nothing to me. I am your protection.’
    Keegan studied her face as she helped herself to more tea from the pot. He asked himself why she was doing this. Why should she whip one of her own? It made no sense. Who was she, dressed in such finery? An English girl riding a horse that was worth more than most could earn in a lifetime. The saddle alone would keep his school in books for the rest of his teaching life and another teacher’s beyond that. Such a fine young lady sitting here on a stool, drinking his tea.
    She looked to him. ‘Perhaps, one day, I will tell you why this is so important to me.’
    This startled him. ‘You must read my mind,’ he said.
    ‘I surprise myself. It is all happening very suddenly. But you must not think it sinister. I simply want to help and this is the first chance I’ve had. Let me come back.’
    He said nothing for a while. He looked at the boy asleep in the cot. A draught whistled softly through a crack in the window frame. It was late afternoon, the sun had left the room. Soon it would be dusk.
    He held out his hands to her. ‘Miss Kate, this is a strange day. Some might say it was a day meant to happen. But whatever comes out of it can only be good for us all. That I know. Of that I’m certain.’
    She took his hands and held them tight in hers. She looked at the boy. ‘What is his name?’
    ‘Eugene. A fine boy. He had a yearning to learn. But it’s dead in him now that he has lost his family.’
    ‘They are dead?’
    ‘Dead or gone.’
    ‘I will bring him a picture book. And the fruit.’
    She ducked beneath the low door into the early orange evening.