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Suddenly, the rider on the horse on Declan’s
far side swung out a shillelagh that hit Declan full in the face.
Fiona screamed and began running toward the finish line, but Sarah
could see that Declan stayed in the saddle. Her heart pounding and
thinking they might need her testimony against the dirty rotten
cheater who’d done such a foul thing, Sarah moved through the crowd
toward the finish line.

While it was true she
hadn’t exactly seen
who
had smashed Dec with the club as he was coming
down the stretch, surely it would be simple enough to determine it?
The crowd of people blocking the way to the clearing had increased
and it seemed as if they were all pressing in to get to the scene
at the finish line. Sarah jumped up and down to try to see over
shoulders and heads and pounded on backs for people to let her
pass.

“I need through!” she yelled. “I saw who did
it!”

“Bugger what you saw,” one woman said to
her. “The fecking gypsy was cheating and got put in his place.
That’s what we all saw.”

Sarah was aghast this woman would speak so
openly in such a way, and that nobody seemed to take exception to
it. Was there racism in the camp and she wasn’t aware of it?

“Fi!” she called. “I’m coming, Fi!”

Ducking down, she aimed for holes between
elbows and bodies and squirmed her way to the scene at the finish
line. Mike stood at the rope that marked the finish and held the
reins of Declan’s horse. He was clearly trying to get people to
move back and alternately growled and shouted at people by name.
For a moment their eyes met, but she couldn’t detect anything in
the glance and he soon looked away and continued his attempt to get
people to move.

Fiona literally hung on Declan’s arm trying
to drag him from the man who faced him, his hands up ready to
fight. It was Iain. Declan’s face was covered in blood, his nose
obviously broken.

“You bastard!” Declan snarled at Iain, as he
tried to unwrap Fiona from his arm.

Sarah saw Mike give up keeping the crowd at
bay as he thrust the reins of his horse into someone’s hands and
took two steps to come between Iain and Declan.

“Stop it, the both of you,” he ordered
thunderously. “No fighting today.”

“Tell him that,” Iain said pointing at
Declan with the most ridiculously false attempt at looking innocent
Sarah had ever seen. She ran to him and grabbed his sleeve.

“I saw you!” she said.

“Sarah, stay out of this,” Mike said.
“You’ll make it worse.”

“What did you see?” Iain said, sneering.
“You didn’t see me. You saw nothing.”

It was true. She had seen the club come
swinging out and catch Declan, but she hadn’t seen who swung it.
She felt so impotent and helpless she wanted to punch him, herself.
She felt a strong hand clamp onto her upper arm and haul her out of
the center. Mike gave her a push that made her stumble to stay on
her feet.

“What part of
stay out of it
is
unclear to you?” he said harshly as he turned back to the two
men.

She stood behind them, panting in anger and
embarrassment as Mike spoke to the two men. When she looked around
her, she could see faces in the crowd—faces she knew well as
acquaintances if not friends—smiling smugly at her. In amazement,
she realized some of these people had been waiting a long time for
her to keep her comeuppance.

And they were enjoying it now at her
expense.

When she deliberately turned her back on
them and their smirks she saw Declan and Iain, if not exactly
shaking hands, were walking away from the fight. She wasn’t sure
what magic words Mike had said to them, but whatever it was it
worked. She watched as Fiona tugged her Declan back toward their
cottage and when she looked to find Mike, she saw that he’d gone
back to his horse and to speak to the person whose hands he’d
shoved the reins into.

Aideen’s.

Sarah watched as Aideen listened to Mike and
nodded her head sympathetically. And then, when Mike turned to
leave, Aideen looked up and caught her eye. And smiled.

The rest of the festival had lost much of
its charm for Sarah. It was hours before Declan and Fiona returned,
and then they were subdued and focused on each other. If it was
true that Fi really was pregnant, it stood to reason they’d be even
more focused inward than before. Sarah wouldn’t intrude. She caught
glimpses of Papin and John from time to time, mostly at the food
table although a brief conversation with Papin revealed that John
and Gavin had been on the sporting fields most of the day and that
John had a bashed shinbone that would need to be dealt with
eventually.

Sarah could see some of the men had gathered
at a new table—one that rumor had it was stocked with a small
amount of poteen, the homegrown whiskey from one of two stills in
the camp. Up until now, the product from the stills hadn’t been
drinkable although most of the men had still sampled and served as
guinea pigs. Armed with her new knowledge that perhaps she wasn’t
the most popular person in the community, Sarah sat alone in front
of the clogging stage and let the music and the rhythmic pounding
of the young people’s hard shoes sooth and distract her.

When Papin finally found
her and slumped down next to her, as exhausted as if she’d been one
of the girls dancing the ages old Irish jigs on the stage, she came
with a wee dram of the now-drinkable poteen which Sarah tipped into
her tepid tea mug. It looked like Papin had sampled quite a bit of
the new product, herself.

“Sleepy, sweetie?” Sarah said, patting her
leg.

“Mmm-mm,” Papin said, leaning on Sarah’s
shoulder. “Tell me when it’s over.”

It’s
over
, Sarah thought as she looked up at
the dancing children, her heart heavy.
It’s definitely over.

After the last dance and
just before she intended to help Papin to bed and go find her son,
Sarah hesitated as she saw Brian Gilhooley come out on stage after
the children bounded from it. Everybody clapped wildly and cheered
when he came out. Sarah couldn’t believe how popular he was. She
looked at the happy, flushed faces of the people around her.
Everywhere she looked, she saw people whistling and cheering for
this man.

There was no way he wasn’t
going to win tomorrow’s election.

“Oy! Thank you everyone,”
Brian said. “And although not being the one to organize the
Lughnasa
or to take
credit for the great harvest this year, I’m grateful for that vote
of confidence. And as your candidate for leader of this fine
community, I would just like to say, if elected I will do
everything in my power to make sure you get everything that’s
yours—not just because you’re a personal mate of the leader—but
because you’re a valuable member of this community. If elected, I
will make sure that life is fair again, that celebrations have
something besides barely drinkable swill to celebrate
with…”

A cheer rose up and Sarah
watched as Gilhooley waited patiently for the crowd to simmer down
before continuing.

“…
and that you are, each
and every one of you, proud to call yourselves Irish in this new
and changed world of ours!”

The crowd roared its
approval, many people standing in the process, and Sarah could not
believe they were being swayed by such bullshit language of
jingoistic nonsense.

Gilhooley nodded and
smiled and pointed to people in the crowd as if the knew them
personally and wanted them to know they were special and then left
the stage.

The crowd waited
expectedly. Not only was it natural to assume that Mike—the other
candidate and incumbent—would speak in rebuttal, but it was at
least assumed that he would speak to them as master of ceremonies
of the festival and commend them all on their hard work.

Sarah craned her neck to see if she could
find Mike in the crowd or the audience.

“Isn’t Da going to speak?”
Papin asked sleepily

“I don’t know.”

As the murmuring of the
crowd increased, punctuated now by a few titters as if off-color
jokes were being passed around, Sarah saw movement to the side of
the stage. She was stunned to see Aideen climbing the steps and
striding on stage. She had to admit she was beautiful. Her
complexion—all roses and cream—especially in the flicker of the
campfire and the half moon over them—looked flawless and aglow. The
crowd hushed to a complete silence in anticipation.

“Hello,” Aideen said, her
voice strong and warm and ringing with those cultivated tones that
were neither English nor somehow Irish. “I’m here to speak to you
on behalf of the other candidate who, frankly, is too modest to
toot his own horn.”

A few in the crowd laughed
at that but Aideen ignored them. “Mike Donovan took care of me and
my daughter at personal risk to himself,” she said, speaking
clearly and looking at each person in the first row of the
audience. “He did that for me and I have seen him do that for many
others. In talking with some of you since I first came here, I’ve
heard story after story of how Mike Donovan has worked to protect
you, feed you, and give you shelter.

“You know him. You know Mike Donovan. He’s
solid and he cares. I’m not saying anything against Mr. Gilhooley
there, I’m sure he’s fine, especially in the circles he comes from
in Dublin…”

Sarah had to admire that
dig. Most people in the community naturally did not trust outsiders
and particularly not from Dublin.

“…
but Mike Donovan is one
of you. And when it comes right down to it, you can’t buy that or
make it. You might wonder why it is I, a relative newcomer, might
know that. I know it because I have the special privilege of being
able to announce tonight that I am officially engaged to Mike
Donovan to be his wife. And as such, I will do everything in my
power to help him be the best leader for you that it is in his
power to be. Thank you. And God bless Ireland.”

The applause, although not
as riotous as when Gilhooley left the stage, was nonetheless warm
and authentic. Papin woke up long enough to yawn and
applaud.

Sarah sat with her mouth
open, hands limp in her lap.

10

Mike was engaged?

Sarah worked to control her
face as the crowd applauded and then moved on to the next
interesting thing at the fair. She heard someone yell out that
there was a scuffle going on behind the poteen shed and she watched
Declan materialize from nowhere and head in that direction, his
best
I will kick some arse if I have
to
face firmly in place.

“Blimey, that was a surprise, wasn’t it,
Mum?” Papin said. “Or did you know about it?”

Sarah forced a smile and gave what she hoped
looked like a casual shrug. “Not really. But I knew they were old
friends.”

“Well, a little more than friends, it looks
like. I’m knackered, Mum. Are you ready to head back?” Papin stood
up and began walking to the cottage before waiting for Sarah’s
answer.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Sarah said to her
retreating back. She stood up from her seat and immediately saw
Fiona heading her way. By the look on her face, she hadn’t known
either. Which was good. Sarah couldn’t take one more betrayal
tonight.

“Oy, Sarah, you alright, then?” Fiona
frowned in concern as she reached out and touched Sarah’s arm. “I
swear I had no idea what the silly cow was about to say. None.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said
wearily.

“Well, if you could see your expression, you
wouldn’t be surprised that I don’t believe that. You look like
you’ve been blind-sided.”

Sarah glanced around at the
people standing near her and realized the community’s favorite soap
opera, the
will-they-won’t-they
saga of the American widow and the camp leader,
had taken a decidedly delicious turn.

Fiona noticed too. “It’s
only because they don’t have the telly to distract them any more,”
she said, glowering at a couple nearest them, who was openly
snickering at Sarah. “Are you staring at
us
, Jimmy Dorsey?” she said sharply
to the man in the couple. “Because I have a few juicy tidbits I
could be sharing with the camp if you have a moment, as you seem
to.” The couple quickly turned and slipped away.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said. “It was
going to happen sooner or later anyway.”

“Later would have been more sensitive, seems
to me,” Fi said, watching her friend with sad eyes. “I know I was
teasing you about it, Sarah, but I didn’t know it was this serious,
not at all. You have to believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said again more
firmly. “I’m outta here in two days’ time. And if Mike wants to
take one last swing at me because he’s hurt and angry—”

“You know that’s not Mike’s way.”

“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons for
speeding things up. And as I am no longer a consideration for
him—as I guess I shouldn’t be—well, I’m the last person with a
right to be upset.”

“That’s very mature of you, Sarah,” Fiona
said, tucking Sarah’s hand under her arm and turning toward her own
cottage. “There’s no way I would be so reasonable were it my Dec
who’d just announced his engagement to some skivvy.”

“She
is
a skivvy, isn’t she?” Sarah said,
feeling tears close.

“Damn right she is.” Abruptly, Fiona turned
and corrected course.