Pay the Devil - Jack Higgins [60]
Shaun Rogan looked up, and all at once he seemed an old man. “I’m already two months overdue on my last payment. Fitzgibbon didn’t press me.” He made a futile gesture with his hands. “We needed money for the cause. I’ve paid for some of the arms which have been landed out of my own pocket, hoping to be reimbursed when the contributions to the fighting fund started to come in.”
Dennis slammed a clenched fist against the table. “What are we going to do, then?” he demanded. “Sit here like sheep and let Hamilton and his butchers ride in and take over?”
Shaun Rogan shook his head. “We’ll think of something, lad. We’ll think of something.” He turned to Cathal. “Get on your horse and go for Kevin. We need all the help we can get.”
“I’ll be returning to Claremont,” Clay said. “Joanna has no information as to when they intend to move against you, but she promised to keep me informed. I’ll be seeing her messenger again in a couple of hours.”
Rogan’s eyes narrowed. “He may have some news for us.” He turned to Dennis. “You ride with the colonel to Claremont. After he’s spoken with this messenger, you can come back with any news there is.”
Dennis turned without a word and went outside to saddle his horse and Clay got to his feet. “I have a feeling things are warming up,” he said. “The next few hours will see great changes in Drumore, though in what way, I’m not quite sure. I’d offer the mortgage myself. I could well afford it, but I smell a plot here between young Fitzgibbon and Hamilton.”
Shaun Rogan seemed to have recovered himself and nodded soberly. “We’re all in God’s hands, Colonel, but one thing is certain. I’ve lived here all my life. Whatever happens, I intend to die here.” For a moment, Clay gazed into those calm eyes, and then he turned and left the room.
He and Dennis rode quickly up to the head of the valley and galloped across the moors, pausing only to explain what was happening to Marteen.
Down below them through the trees, a band of white mist floated above a stream, and all at once there seemed a chill in the air. Clay rode in silence, occupied with his own thoughts, wondering if Joanna had managed to find out anything more about her uncle’s plans. He thought of her alone in that great house, with no one to whom she could turn, and a feeling of inexpressible tenderness swept through him. He slowed Pegeen to a walk as they passed along a narrow path through trees and entered a clearing.
Peter Burke sat his horse and waited for them. He was dressed very correctly in a fine broadcloth riding coat, and his boots were highly polished. He raised his crop to the brim of his hat and said gravely, “Good morning to you, Colonel Fitzgerald.”
Clay’s hand slid into his coat pocket for the Dragoon Colt, but half a dozen men rode out of the trees into the clearing, shotguns ready.
One side of Burke’s face was still bruised and swollen from the fight, and his eyes glittered malevolently as he urged his horse forward and held out a hand. “I’ll take your pistol, Colonel, if you please.”
Clay handed it across, and behind him, Dennis cursed as one of the men snatched his shotgun away from him. There was a moment’s silence and Clay gazed around him at the circle of unfriendly faces and said calmly, “Now what?”
Burke moved closer and started to search his pockets without a word. Within a moment, he had found Joanna’s letter. Clay sat there, anger rising inside him as Burke’s dark eyes flickered across the page. When he had finished, he carefully folded the letter and placed it in his inside pocket without any comment. “We’ll go to Drumore House now, Colonel. Sir George desires a word with you. I’d strongly advise you against trying to escape. It would give me great pleasure to see you both blasted from the saddle. I’d like you to believe that.”
Dennis began an angry retort and Clay leaned forward quickly and laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “Do as he asks. Our turn will come later.” There was ugly laughter from some of the men and, ignoring it, he urged Pegeen forward along