Read Online The Devil's Due: An Irish Historical Thriller by L.D. Beyer - Free Book Online

transferring a portion of their debt to a fledgling nation that had no means to repay it. But it was the partition above all else that caused the most debate. The six counties of the North—most of Ulster—would remain part of Britain. It was no surprise that the British wanted to keep Belfast and the North for themselves. While Limerick and the south and west were primarily farms, Belfast had foundries that made iron, textile mills that made linens, and boat yards that made ships. These businesses were controlled by Protestants whose loyalty to the King had been an economic decision as much as an ideological one. They were invaders—English and Scots—who had been given the land that British occupiers had stolen from us. Under the Treaty, Ireland would be forever divided. In exchange, Britain would withdraw its forces from the twenty-six counties of the south.
    “It’s the best we could hope for,” a man I met on the ship had argued, something I would later hear time and again. “It’s a path to freedom.”
    I was careful to avoid the debates, not wanting to draw attention to myself. But I didn’t agree. So long as Britain required that we bow to the king, so long as they kept a strangle hold on our economy, and so long as they kept the north, we would never be free. It seemed that the country I had dreamed of during the dark, lonely nights in New York was a myth.
    “Look, there’s Limerick!” the woman said as she pointed to the buildings in the distance.
    Limerick , I thought, both excited and worried. I had to be careful. Even with the war over, the year I had been gone hadn’t been enough to ease the grudges. We Irish were pretty good at hating—we’d been hating the British for over seven hundred years. I suspected there was enough hate left over for me, for a traitor.
    To the gentle swaying of the train, the rhythmic shush of the steam engine, and the clackity-clack of the wheels, the baby in the woman’s arms behind me had fallen fast asleep and remained so for the last three hours. Like the mother and father, I’d kept my own window up lest the black smoke from the coal boiler soil the baby’s dress. I was a father now too, a thought I still hadn’t grown accustomed to. As I had since the moment I had received the letter, I wondered again about my own son. That the baby was a boy was certain. I don’t know how I knew, I just knew. What did he look like? I wondered. Was he fair like Kathleen? Or did he have my own dark features?
    There had been no time to ask. The day after I received Eileen’s letter—she was one of the Cavanaghs’ other servants and I was certain the letter had come from her—I had written to both Kathleen and her sister Mary, telling them that I was coming. I gave them no time to protest: two weeks later I stood on the deck as the boat sailed out of the harbor and New York faded in the distance behind us. I hoped my letter arrived before I did. But to be safe, I had sent a telegram from Cobh after the boat reached port.
    With a loud hiss of steam, the train pulled into the station. There were dozens of people waiting on the platform, many waiting to board and others waiting for friends and relatives to get off. Out the window, I spotted the tall, fair-haired woman dressed in black standing on the platform. I was relieved to see that Mary had received my letter. She was by herself and I wondered where Kathleen was. She must be waiting with Tim by the cart, I reasoned.
    Mary was searching the windows of the cars as the train slowed. I smiled and waved until she saw me. She caught my eye. Her curt nod told me that she wasn’t pleased to see me, and I worried that something was wrong. Mary, twelve years older than Kathleen, was more of a mother than a sister to her. Many times I had found myself the target of her sharp tongue. Mary, I suspected, would be angry with me for the way I had left Kathleen, regardless of the circumstances. I glanced at Mary again and this time I saw