come back: big brother, little sister. But that was gone, done with, finished. Iâm for the Free State, the boy at Nenagh had said. Seamus had no right to kill him just because of that. With an energy that surprised her, Katie pushed Seamus away.
âCome back or not as you like,â she snapped. âJust keep the war away from home. Iâll fight this my own way. Keep away from Father too. I could do without you upsetting him as you did today.â
There was a rustle in the straw in the barn. Katieâs eyes were adjusted to the dark now and she could make out two eyes andthe outline of a dog, head raised, teeth showing. There was another growl.
âShut up!â she said to it, and turned away, striding towards the house to collect Dafydd.
âWhat do you mean, fight this your own way?â asked Seamus, hurrying after her.
âWork that out for yourself, soldier,â she retorted.
It was only when she and Dafydd were out in the lane that she thought about the dog again; it had been black, black without a patch of white. Uncle Mal had no dog like that! It made her spine tingle but she was glad she had told it to shut up. To hell with the black dogs.
* * *
Dafydd sat beside the road and laced up his boots.
âOh, the comfort of a pair of socks,â he said with a sigh.
They had hardly spoken on the walk back. Katie had been preoccupied.
âHow much did you hear â of what the man was saying up at the house? What theyâre planning?â
âMe? Never understood a word. Iâm Welsh, you see,â said Dafydd.
Katie looked at him with interest.
CHAPTER 7
Informer!
âS queeze the trigger,â the voice said, but Katieâs arms were aching and she couldnât hold the heavy rifle steady. The sights weaved and bobbed. Sometimes she had the advancing soldier dead-centre in the frame, then, just as her finger curled on the trigger he would bob away. She knew who the soldier was because it was his rifle she was holding â the triangle of yellow wood where it had been repaired was silky smooth against her cheek.
âSqueeze the trigger!â It was a command. The soldier was closer now and unarmed. Did that make a difference? âNow!â All she could see was the green of his uniform filling the whole of her vision. She could not miss! She would look up when she fired; she had to see his face, the face of a man without a birthright.
The kick of the rifle and the crash of the shot came as one. As the soldierâs knees bucked under him, Katie looked up into the dying face â looked and disbelieved. It wasnât him. There was something terribly wrong â the hair a fuzz of red, the eyes that were glazing over were blue. It was her own face.
âPoor country â poor poor country, no â no â poor Katie,â she grieved.
* * *
She stared up into the dark of her room, her pulse racing. Whathad woken her? The stairs creaked â Seamus? No, Marty surely, on his nightly expedition. Probably tripped over the Frogâs boots, that would have been the crash. But the confusion of her dream seemed to have cleared her mind. She had felt lost, bereaved almost, when they had got back from Uncle Malâs. Now she began to plan, quickly and clearly. When she was satisfied that her plan would work, she slept.
* * *
Katie woke, pleased to find her plan still neat and clean in her head. She met Marty at the top of the stairs.
âLook whoâs after early worms,â he said.
âShhh.â Katie put her finger to her lips and pointed to the settle where Dafydd slept, humped in the bed. Marty winked and tiptoed pointedly down the stairs and into the kitchen.
She wasnât often up this early, and she felt nervous. But the homely smell of the kitchen calmed her. The range, which was kept in with a couple of sods of turf, scented the room. The pendulum clock on the wall ticked hollowly. Prince stirred from his place
âCome back or not as you like,â she snapped. âJust keep the war away from home. Iâll fight this my own way. Keep away from Father too. I could do without you upsetting him as you did today.â
There was a rustle in the straw in the barn. Katieâs eyes were adjusted to the dark now and she could make out two eyes andthe outline of a dog, head raised, teeth showing. There was another growl.
âShut up!â she said to it, and turned away, striding towards the house to collect Dafydd.
âWhat do you mean, fight this your own way?â asked Seamus, hurrying after her.
âWork that out for yourself, soldier,â she retorted.
It was only when she and Dafydd were out in the lane that she thought about the dog again; it had been black, black without a patch of white. Uncle Mal had no dog like that! It made her spine tingle but she was glad she had told it to shut up. To hell with the black dogs.
* * *
Dafydd sat beside the road and laced up his boots.
âOh, the comfort of a pair of socks,â he said with a sigh.
They had hardly spoken on the walk back. Katie had been preoccupied.
âHow much did you hear â of what the man was saying up at the house? What theyâre planning?â
âMe? Never understood a word. Iâm Welsh, you see,â said Dafydd.
Katie looked at him with interest.
CHAPTER 7
Informer!
âS queeze the trigger,â the voice said, but Katieâs arms were aching and she couldnât hold the heavy rifle steady. The sights weaved and bobbed. Sometimes she had the advancing soldier dead-centre in the frame, then, just as her finger curled on the trigger he would bob away. She knew who the soldier was because it was his rifle she was holding â the triangle of yellow wood where it had been repaired was silky smooth against her cheek.
âSqueeze the trigger!â It was a command. The soldier was closer now and unarmed. Did that make a difference? âNow!â All she could see was the green of his uniform filling the whole of her vision. She could not miss! She would look up when she fired; she had to see his face, the face of a man without a birthright.
The kick of the rifle and the crash of the shot came as one. As the soldierâs knees bucked under him, Katie looked up into the dying face â looked and disbelieved. It wasnât him. There was something terribly wrong â the hair a fuzz of red, the eyes that were glazing over were blue. It was her own face.
âPoor country â poor poor country, no â no â poor Katie,â she grieved.
* * *
She stared up into the dark of her room, her pulse racing. Whathad woken her? The stairs creaked â Seamus? No, Marty surely, on his nightly expedition. Probably tripped over the Frogâs boots, that would have been the crash. But the confusion of her dream seemed to have cleared her mind. She had felt lost, bereaved almost, when they had got back from Uncle Malâs. Now she began to plan, quickly and clearly. When she was satisfied that her plan would work, she slept.
* * *
Katie woke, pleased to find her plan still neat and clean in her head. She met Marty at the top of the stairs.
âLook whoâs after early worms,â he said.
âShhh.â Katie put her finger to her lips and pointed to the settle where Dafydd slept, humped in the bed. Marty winked and tiptoed pointedly down the stairs and into the kitchen.
She wasnât often up this early, and she felt nervous. But the homely smell of the kitchen calmed her. The range, which was kept in with a couple of sods of turf, scented the room. The pendulum clock on the wall ticked hollowly. Prince stirred from his place
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