he’d filled Thomas in on the excitement he’d missed. The O’Tooles had failed to mention I was asleep in his bed, and Thomas had come in and lain down beside me, waking me and surprising us both.
“Jaysus, Anne!” he said, gasping. “I didn’t even see you there. I thought it odd that my bed wasn’t made, but I figured with all the commotion, it had been missed. I thought you were in Eoin’s room.”
“How’s Robbie?” I said, so relieved to see him I felt like crying.
Thomas told me what he’d told Maggie and Daniel, adding that if it could be kept from infection, it would heal, and the young man would recover.
We were silent for a moment, our thoughts heavy with what might lie ahead.
“Daniel told me you hatched the whole plan,” Thomas said softly. “He said Liam and Robbie and the rest of the boys would have been sunk without you. Not to mention Garvagh Glebe. The Tans have torched homes for less, Anne.”
“I find I am a very good actress,” I mumbled, embarrassed and pleased by his praise.
“Daniel said the same thing. He also said you sounded like a lady all the way from America.” He brooded for a moment. “Why America?”
“I did everything I could to make them think I wasn’t a threat. Everything I could to distract them. If I wasn’t Irish, why would I care about the Irish Republican Army? I let them in without protest, chatted like a mindless girl, and made it all up as I went. I thought I was done for when they found the clinic had been rummaged through.”
“The laudanum?” Thomas asked, his lips twitching.
“Yes. The laudanum. Daniel O’Toole’s not a bad fibber either.”
“What made you think of the mare? It was really quite brilliant. The blood, the distraction, all of it.”
“I once . . . read . . . a story about a family in Louisville, Kentucky, in the mid-1800s, who raised and sold horses to the wealthiest people in America.” I was lying again, but it was a white lie. I hadn’t read a book like that. I’d written one. Thomas gazed at me, his eyes heavy with fatigue, waiting for me to continue. “There was a scene where the family used the birth of a foal to distract the authorities . . . only it wasn’t guns they were hiding but slaves. The family was part of the Underground Railroad.”
“That . . . is . . . amazing,” he whispered.
“The book was based on a true story too,” I said.
“No, Anne. You. You are amazing.”
“And you are exhausted,” I whispered, watching as his eyes closed and his face relaxed. We lay, turned toward each other on the big bed, like old friends at a sleepover.
“I knew I shouldn’t leave. I could feel it the whole time I was gone. I left Dublin at two o’clock in the morning. Gave my report to the Big Fella and drove straight here,” Thomas mumbled.
“Rest, Setanta,” I said, wanting to smooth the hair on his forehead, to touch his face, but I contented myself with watching him sleep instead.
25 August 1921
Liam Gallagher, Declan’s older brother by several years, was the one who decided to bring the guns to Garvagh Glebe. I’d known for some time that Mick was using Liam’s access on the docks at Sligo to move cargo around under the noses of the Tans. When the tide was high, they moved down the long canal from the sea to the lough and hid weapons in the caves on the shore, distributing them inland from there. Ben Gallagher, the oldest of Brigid’s boys, is a conductor on the route from Cavan to Dublin, and I have no doubt there are frequently guns stowed on his train. Mick talked a while back about a shipment of Thompson guns that would give the IRA another level of firepower, but so far, the shipment hasn’t materialized.
The guns Liam and his boys brought to Garvagh Glebe are now stacked in a ten-by-ten space beneath the wooden slats that make up the barn floor. Daniel and I carved out the space and lined it in rock years ago. It’s hard to find the trap door unless you know it’s there; a little spring-lock mechanism on the inner corners makes a handle unnecessary.
Ben and Liam have kept their distance over the years. I suspect that it’s guilt and helplessness more than anything else. They were relieved when their mother moved to Garvagh Glebe with Eoin. Neither