the large barn were separated from the house by a wide lawn rimmed in trees, and the grass was cold and wet against my bare feet. A lantern flickered through the trees, beckoning us, and Maeve ran ahead, trailing bandages that wouldn’t do much good if they were drenched.
A young man, unconscious and soaking wet, lay on the barn floor, surrounded by a handful of men who weren’t much older or dryer. One held a lantern high over the body of the wounded man, and when I entered behind Maeve, every head turned and every weapon was raised.
“Doc is still in Dublin, Da. Miss Anne is all we’ve got.” Her voice was fearful, as though she worried she might have made a mistake. I rushed past her to where Maeve’s father was doing his best to mop up the blood from the young man’s head with his shirt, begging sweet Mary, mother of God, to intercede for his son.
“What happened?” I demanded, sinking down beside the boy.
“His head. Robbie’s eye is gone,” Daniel O’Toole stammered.
“A bullet, ma’am. The boy took a bullet,” someone said from the circle standing watch above us.
“Let me see, Mr. O’Toole,” I demanded. He pulled his dirty, smeared shirt away from his son’s face. Robbie’s right eye was a bubbling mess. Miraculously, he moaned as I turned his head toward the light, letting me know he still lived. Another hole, black and jagged, gaped at his temple just an inch from his eye socket, as if the bullet had skimmed past his eye at an extreme angle and taken a chunk off the side of his head. I didn’t know enough about head wounds or the brain to make a better guess, but if the bullet had come out again, that seemed positive.
I knew there was nothing I could do but try to stop the bleeding and keep him alive until Thomas got home. I shouted for Maeve to bring me the bandages and pressed a thick section of gauze to Robbie’s eye and another to the exit wound. His father kept the gauze in place as I began to wrap the boy’s head as securely as I dared, layering another round of gauze as I went until his entire head from his eyes up was swaddled tightly.
“We need blankets, Maeve. You know where to find them,” I instructed. Maeve nodded and was out the door in a flash, running back toward the house before I finished speaking.
“Should we try to bring him home, Ma’am?” Daniel O’Toole asked. “Where his mother can look after him?”
“The less we move him, the better, Mr. O’Toole. He needs to be kept warm, and we need the bleeding to stop. That’s the best we can do until the doctor returns,” I answered.
“What about the guns?” someone murmured, and I was reminded of the dripping audience looking down on me.
“How many guns are we talking about?” I asked.
“The less you know, the better,” a man argued from the shadows, and I nodded.
“We can hide them below the floor. I’ll show ye,” Daniel O’Toole offered, unable to meet my gaze.
“We might have Tans on our tail. They were all over the shore. We couldn’t get to the caves without leading them right to the rest of the stash.”
“Shut up, Paddy,” someone snapped.
“How did Robbie get shot?” I asked, my voice level, my hands shaking.
“One of the Tans riddled the trees, hoping to spook us out. Robbie didn’t even cry out. He kept moving until we were all inside.”
Maeve was back, her arms full, but her face was white.
“Miss Anne, there are Tans coming down the lane. Two lorries. Mrs. Gallagher is awake, and Eoin too. And they’re afraid. Eoin’s asking for you.”
“If they come out here and see Robbie, they’ll know. Even if we hide the guns in the loft and the rest of us scatter, they’ll know. They’ll search this place—maybe torch it—and they’ll take Robbie,” the man with the lantern said.
“Take Robbie back into the tack room,” I said. “There’s a bed back there. Douse him in what’s left of the whiskey in this bottle and put the bottle on the floor by his bed. Then cover him well and warmly. Cover his head too, leaving his lower face exposed like he’s fallen asleep with the pillow over his head. Mr. O’Toole, get the mare, the one who’s pregnant. Lay her down and fuss over her, like she’s close to delivering. The rest of you, hide the guns, hide yourselves.