Read Online Devil's Mountain by Bernadette Walsh - Free Book Online

positive I saw this picture.”
    She pursed her lips, her face erupting into a mass of wrinkles. “Odd things happen up there. It’s best not to worry about it. Come away from that old picture. I don’t even know why I hung it up, to tell you the truth. Sit and have your salad, love.”
    After the salad, Dot served our main course: broiled salmon and asparagus, neither of which I particularly liked. However, she had gone to such trouble for me, so I smiled and forced myself to eat a bit.
    It was delicious.
    “Dot, this is wonderful!”
    “You sound surprised.”
    “Honestly, my mother used to force me to eat salmon during Lent, but it tasted nothing like this. It’s so fresh!”
    She laughed. “It should be. Tim caught it this morning in the Feale.”
    The fish nearly melted in my mouth. It tasted wild, free. “When we were up in Dublin Bobby’s sister complained about how hard it was to get decent salmon anymore. She said the salmon farmers had ruined it.”
    “Oh, they have in most of the country. The farmed salmon escaped and bred with the wild population. Last time I was in Dublin I had a piece of salmon that was so bland, it was criminal. But not here. Tim says it’s one more thing we have to thank Slanaitheoir for. No farmer would dare defile His river.”
    “ Slanaitheoir ? What’s that? A local environmental group or something?”
    Dot cocked her head and said nothing. She poured herself another glass of wine.
    “Dot? Did you hear me?”
    “I heard you. Has your mother never mentioned Slanaitheoir ?”
    “I don’t think so. Why? Is it some secret society of salmon lovers?”
    “No, ah sure, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. I don’t even believe in that nonsense anymore.”
    “Tell me.”
    She hesitated a moment. “Your mother will kill me, but you should know your history.
    Your family’s history, and your husband’s family history too.” She took another sip of wine.
    “Well, before the Famine, five families lived on Devlin’s Mountain. The Griffins, the Collinses, the Murphys, the Lenihans and of course, the Devlins. The soil on the Mountain was poor, rocky.
    Not good for much. Still, the five families survived, just barely, but they survived up on the Mountain for generations. One evening a tall black-haired man appeared out of the woods outside of Devlin’s cottage. The man was near seven feet tall, broad shouldered and clothed in a golden tunic. His eyes, they say, were hypnotic. Deep green.
    “The first person he met was a Devlin, John Devlin, I believe. The families of the Mountain were always hospitable and would share what little they had. John saluted the man.
    The man complimented John on his fine home, although in truth, at that time it wouldn’t have been much more than a simple cottage, dirt floors and all. John asked the man to share tea with his family.
    “The Devlins had even less than the other families on the Mountain and their land holding was smaller. Their only cow was poorly and provided little milk, but what little they had they gave their guest. The stranger seemed well pleased by that and was particularly enamored by John’s pretty young wife. Before he left, he walked over to the cow tied to the back of their shed and whispered in its ear. By the next morning, John woke to the bellows of the cow. It begged to be milked, its udders bursting.
    “The man then visited the Griffins and complimented them on the wife’s vegetable garden. The next day the Griffins woke to plants that had doubled in size. The other families received similar unexplainable gifts from the stranger.
    “Soon, He became an integral part of Mountain life. He attended wakes, christenings. He played hurling with the young men, danced with the young girls. Before long the poor Mountain folk had more food in their bellies. The women no longer wore that strained look, and their skin softened and hair grew thick.”
    “So what, he was their good luck charm?” I asked.
    “You could say