Toward the Sea of Freedom by Sarah Lark Read Free Book Online Page A

into his cups again, with friends; he paid for half the village. This morning at work they all smelled of rotgut, and your Billy could not stand up straight. Are you surprised Trevallion was asking about it? No one told him, if that’s what you’re thinking, Gráinne. Even though he spilled a few things last night to his drinking buddies around the fire. About the whiskey, the distillers, his wonderful new job in Wicklow.”
    “Merciful Mother of God, if he tells that to the redcoats!” Gráinne crossed herself at the thought of English soldiers.
    Ron sighed. “They’ll beat it out of him sooner or later,” he said. “But maybe it’d be better for him to talk. So far they’re blaming him alone. When it turns out that the Drury boy was involved too . . .”
    An icy chill shot up Kathleen’s spine. Billy would betray Michael. It was as inevitable as the priest’s amen during Mass. He might even betray her as well. After all, he knew why Michael had risked stealing. And more than anything—merciful God—she hoped he knew nothing about Barney’s Tavern.
    Kathleen’s mind raced. She had to warn Michael. She needed to get to Wicklow before the soldiers interrogated Billy. And then it would be best just to stay with him. She could not do any more anyway. Now it all lay in Billy Rafferty’s hands as to whether her family would be driven from house and home. When Trevallion learned that she had fled with Michael, he would accuse the O’Donnells of complicity.
    Kathleen ran outside. Gráinne would not look for her; she now had bigger worries than the fireplaces in the manor. And Ron had hardly noticed her; he seemed not to know anything about her and Michael.
    Heedless, Kathleen ran out onto the road. At least she had put on her shawl against the winter cold. There were a few things from her parents’ house she would have liked to bring along, but there was no chance of that now. Her mother and siblings were surely at home, and they would be able to tell that something was troubling her.
    Kathleen said adieu to them all in her heart. Then, determined, she turned toward Wicklow.

Chapter 4
    The road to Wicklow stretched out long and wide before Kathleen. She sometimes walked and sometimes ran, moving as fast as she could. Still, anyone on horseback would easily overtake her, as two riders already had. Kathleen tried to remain calm as she continued along the road. It would grow dark before she reached town.
    Suddenly, she heard a carriage rolling up behind her. Perhaps Billy was already being taken to prison in Wicklow. Half fearful and half hopeful, she turned to look and saw two powerful dappled horses in front of the cart and a familiar man on the box. It was Ian Coltrane, son of the livestock trader.
    “Well, well, who do we have here?” Ian grinned down at her. “If it isn’t little Kathleen O’Donnell. Whither goest thou, sweetheart?”
    Kathleen forced herself to smile back. Ian Coltrane was handsome, a swarthy young man with flashing eyes. He was around twenty years old, somewhat older than Michael. He looked a bit like Michael, except his eyes were black like coal. People even whispered that the Coltranes had Gypsy blood.
    Where his father, Patrick Coltrane, dealt in sheep and cattle, Ian specialized in horse trading. And he must have been making good money: his plaid jacket was new and padded and warm, his pants were made of leather, and his boots were solid. Kathleen looked at them almost enviously. Her own shoes were worn and not warm enough. Her feet already felt like ice blocks.
    “To, to Wicklow,” she answered. “I’m, I’m visiting an aunt. She’s sick.”
    Ian grinned. “So your mother sent you off with nothing but a woolen shawl?” he said, looking at Kathleen’s empty hands and her clothes, too thin for such a journey.
    Kathleen blushed. Of course, she should have thought about that. True, the O’Donnells were poor, but her mother would have managed a little something for a sick