Wind From the Edge of the Cloud by R D Larson	Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion

“I had to borrow from Dunworth just to get seed potatoes this year and now there’ll be none with which to repay him.”

The look on her mother’s face told Siobhan that they would lose the house and land soon.

“I will do something, anything. I can work in Galway. I’ll go there.”

“No money for traveling there; nor for room and board.”

“I’ll walk, I’ll do something.”

Siobhan started to cry then as well. They huddled together, holding their cups of tea. The long day passed. Finally, without building a fire, they lay on their pallets and sank in to forgetful sleep.

The next morning they dug up all the hills of potatoes, turning the earth over with a pitchfork. But every potato had the blight. There was nothing to do but buy food. The only money came from the washing and that was a shilling a week. Neighbors who worked for Dunworth’s weren’t sympathetic because of past solvency and Mary felt shamed.

Siobhan saw that they were having the last four potatoes from the storage,

“Ma, I’m going up to Dunworth’s and ask for work in his house. I have to do something.”

“I don’t know what else to do. They won’t want me; I’m too old. Never mind keeping the land and the house; we have to eat.”

As Siobhan was combing her auburn hair the next morning she heard a horse cart passing by the cottage.

“What have you there, driver? Please stop. Stop, I ask,” Mary called out her voice raw and harsh.

There was no sound except the cart passing. Then Siobhan heard her mother scream.

She rushed out the door to see the horse rearing, it’s hooves striking her mother as she clutched the harness. The man driving the load of cabbages jerked the reins. As the horse reared again, his hooves struck Mary’s face and head. As she dropped to the road Siobhan rushed toward her.

“It’s her what did it! She rushed at the horse,” shouted the rough man selling cabbages, finally turning the horse away to run it fifty paces and tie it to a fence. He ran back to see Siobhan sobbing and wiping her mother’s face with her skirt. Mary was alive and the man helped get her into the house and on the pallet.

Before he could leave, Siobhan clutched his arm. “For whom is it that you work? And what is your name?”

“Dunworth’s. I’m to deliver and sell some crops to his renters. He won’t have ‘em going hungry. Name is Conner, miss.”

“Leave me a cabbage and report this sad accident to Sir Dunworth. Her name is Mary Kinsella. Tell him to send a doctor please.”

“Yes, miss, I will.”

As he rushed away, Siobhan wished she could hate him.

When the doctor came at night it was too late. Mary had died. There on her grandfather’s land in the house that her husband built and holding her daughter’s hand, Mary left her sorrows behind. Siobhan wept as she had not done for her father, her brother or her husband. The connection between the two women had strengthened during the last month. She wept for her dear little son that had not lived. She wept for herself.

Siobhan prayed and then she promised, “I’ll keep the land and the house, Ma. I promise you to keep your property.”

Mary was laid to rest in a plain wood box. The parish priest, a known drunk, presided with glorious words and a fitting tribute to Mary, the brave daughter, mother and wife.

Siobhan waited until the day after her mother’s funeral. Then she went to Dunworth’s manor in the morning.

Closing the door, shooing the three remaining chickens into their cage, Siobhan tried to think what to say to such an important man. He must not take her mother’s house, yet how could she pay the debt, except by hard work? She had always heard how he wanted the triangle property that belonged to the Kinsella’s. How would he take the idea of her working to pay the debt her mother incurred for seed potatoes and still let her earn enough for food?

With her mind spinning Siobhan began the two mile walk to Dunworth’s Manse. She had only been there once before when her mother, Mary, and brother, Dennis, had gone for a holiday treat. He had sat by his huge fireplace while his wife handed out gifts to the local children. Most boys got a wagon and girls got a rag doll. Of the children there, only Dennis and herself, had a father that didn’t work for Dunworth. But her mother did, and so the children were given the gifts.

As she walked up the drive to the house she could see many people working in the gardens and around the property. There were women working in the flowers. Perhaps, that would do for me, thought Siobhan.

At the tall door she knocked hard. Almost immediately the door was opened by a squat red-faced woman. She took one look at Siobhan and shut the door.

She knocked again harder. No answer. She turned the handle and pushed the door.

“You best be getting along, miss. You got no reason to be coming here to the front. Go ‘round to the back, where you belong,” the woman shouted loudly. She waved a straw broom in Siobhan’s direction.

“I will not. I have come on business and wish to see Sir Dunworth. Kindly fetch him for me now.”

“I’m Bridget, the housekeeper and I shall not. It’s my job to keep riffraff and hooligans like yourself away!”

“Just shut your mouth, you old biddie and get Dunworth!” Siobhan shouted back just as loudly.

“Good Lord, what is all this noise? This is a respectable house.”

Dunworth came into the hall from another room.

“This girl is demanding to see you, sir.”

Siobhan looked at the man who looked back at her. She nodded slightly.

“That will be all, Bridget. I will take care of this.”

Bridget took her broom and stumped off. Siobhan wanted to smile but kept from it.

“Come into the library, Miss Kinsella.”

“You know my name?”

“Yes, I knew your father well. A good man, strong-willed. I am sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”

Siobhan’s tears welled up, but she blinked them away.

“Please sit.” He gestured toward a carved chair with a velvet cushion. Siobhan sat gingerly upon it, her faded skirt in contrast to the fine carpet and furniture.”How may I help you?”

“My mother’s debt? I can’t pay it and...”

“I have forgiven her debt. It was only for seed potatoes. These are sad times for the potato farmer.”

“Thank you, thank you. But what do you mean, sir?”

“The potatoes are rotting all over. There’s sure to be many hungry people.”

“If I could only work for you, then perhaps I could keep the house and garden.”

“Your potatoes have died. The land there is overused and now has the potato disease,” Dunworth said, sadly shaking his head. ”It won’t be worth much for a long time. Years maybe.”

“Then what should I do?” Siobhan’s heart slipped in her pain.

“I have an idea, I was going to send someone for you. For so young a girl, you have had your share of trouble. I am sending my young children to live with their aunt in Boston. If you would travel with them, I would be happy to pay your passage. Of course I would take the house and land. But also I would pay you enough to get you started in Toronto or in Boston if you prefer.” Dunworth stopped, gazing at her.

“I know little about children; my infant son died...”

“I know and I am sorry. The children’s nurse has become ill with typhoid and can’t take them. You on the other hand are healthy and strong. It would be good for them, and for you.”

Siobhan thought of leaving her home, the place where her family had died. It nearly broke her heart. After a minute she could see no other way to survive.

“You are right. I am a strong woman. I will make good with a new start and I will do my best to hand your children into the arms of your sister in Boston.”

“Good. Now, Miss Kinsella, be prepared to leave next week. I will see that there are some proper traveling clothes brought to your cottage.”

“Thank you, Sir Dunworth. You have been too kind.” Siobhan stood, her hands twisting against each other.

“Family is everything and your parents, strong as they both were, would want you to have this chance. Henderson will inform you of the traveling arrangements. I would like you to learn to read also and he will arrange for you to learn aboard ship and when you get settled.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Sir.”

Siobhan’s head swam as she realized how her life would change.

That night, as she walked down to the sea, to the very rock where she had laid her son, she prepared herself to leave all that she’d known. She would tell them good bye with her tears and her love. She would remember how strong they were.

Then she would look to the future.

Copyright © 2008 by R D Larson