Maggie Reid

By Noe Nolan

Maggie Reid is 18. She leaves her home and lives with Gypsies until she has the opportunity to sail to America. Once there, she lives in a boarding house in New York and makes friends with a young couple who persuade her to join a wagon train heading west. During the trip, she is swept downriver with her wagon and has to fend for herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aspire Publishing Hub, LLC
• Release date: Jul 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958692103

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MAGGIE REID

NOE NOLAN

Maggie Reid

Copyright © 2022 by Noe Nolan

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-958692-09-7 (Paperback)

978-1-958692-10-3 (eBook)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER ONE

The heat inside the carriage was oppressive. Children cried, women fanned themselves and men wiped their damp foreheads with their handkerchiefs but it was no use. The sun beat relentlessly down on the train.

One young woman gave up trying to keep cool and stared out the window at the telegraph wire that ran parallel to the track as it swooped and whooshed hypnotically between the tall wooden poles. The swaying of the train made her tired and her eyes began to close. Maggie Reid laid her head back against the cushions and shutting out all noises she allowed herself, for the first time in four years, to dwell on the events that had brought her to America. She thought sadly of the home that she had left behind and the last time she had been at Kildon Hall, the large rambling manor house in County Mayo, Ireland.

Looking back she saw herself as she had been on that last evening in late May emerging from her room after dressing for a ball that she, her brother Gerald and their father Sir Colum Reid, were attending, later that evening. Her father was hovering near her door as she came out. He greeted her. Ah! Good evening Margaret my dear! I see you are wearing the gown your mother bought you in Paris last year just before she died. It becomes you very well!

Startled, Maggie had stammered, Thank you, father! It’s very kind of you to say so!

She was very surprised at this attention as he had never before made any comment on her appearance, except when he was vexed with her and then it was to say what a dowd she was. Sir Colum was usually an ill tempered, bullying sort of man who was disliked and feared by his family and servants alike. Maggie was the only person who was unafraid of him and this knowledge irritated him excessively; therefore he ignored his daughter and for the most part pretended she didn’t exist.

She noticed his highly coloured face stiffen and knew he was building himself up to say something and somehow Maggie knew it was going to be unpleasant. My dear! Before we leave for the ball, I would like to speak with you. Come into the library, would you please?

Maggie followed him down the stairs and into the room waiting just inside as he shut the door behind her. He gestured to a seat. Sit down, Margaret. Make yourself comfortable. I have good news for you! He cleared his throat noisily. Mr Edward Leahy has asked for your hand in marriage and I have given my consent!

Maggie’s face paled. She was stunned. She stood up and cried out, What! Marry old Eddie Leahy! Sure, he’s old enough to be my grandfather! Besides having four children older than I am! You only gave your consent because he’s rich! No! I won’t do it! You must be mad to imagine I’d ever agree to such a thing!

Sir Colum’s face turned purple with anger and he lashed out and slapped her on the cheek, cutting the skin near her eye with his ring. Maggie was deeply shocked. He had often punished her in other ways but this was the first time he had ever resorted to violence. He spoke now through gritted teeth, How dare you speak to me in such a way! I suspected you would do this but heed me now, young woman, you will do as I say or you will be very sorry!

Maggie attempted to reason with him but he held his hand up against her. No! Not another word! The engagement will be announced tonight at the ball! Now go away, you impudent little madam! You put me all out of patience!

Realising that it was no use trying to talk with her father anymore, Maggie muttered, Damn you! and fled to her room where she threw herself down onto a window seat and sat staring out onto the beautiful grounds crying with anger and frustration.

Later, her brother, Gerald came to her door and knocked gently. "Maggie! Are you ready? We’re just about to leave!’

Gerry came in, his two Irish wolfhounds, Pearla and Alainn, scrambling in before him. He took one look at the red-rimmed eyes and sighed, heavily. He told you then?

She nodded and turned back to the window looking out with misty eyes that were now glittering with anger. Oh yes! He told me!

Gerry gasped as he caught sight of the cut under her eye. He hit you?

I refused to do his bidding! she cried bitterly, What do you expect a desperate man to do under such circumstances?

Well, I’m thinking you’ll have a marvellous black eye tomorrow!

His weak joke didn’t distract his sister. She sat down on the edge of the window seat and asked, mournfully. Oh, Gerry! What am I going to do? I can’t marry a man I don’t love! As if Eddie Leahy was ever a man!

He sat beside her, took her hand in his and said simply, We have to do what we’re told, Maggie! It’s unfair but that’s the way it is!

She pulled her hand out of his and picked roughly at the delicate but damp handkerchief with which she had been patting her eyes. With an angry growl she stood up and walked over to the washstand and dipped the handkerchief into the cool water and dabbed her eyes with it. That’s not the way it’s going to be for me, Gerry! I won’t be buried in that mausoleum of Leahy’s! Father’s selling me to him just as if I’m a piece of unwanted horse flesh!

He came to her and put his arm over her shoulder, squeezing it, kindly. Let’s not worry about this tonight, Alannah! We’ll talk about it tomorrow, all right?

Unhappily she nodded her head and allowed him to lead her out of the room and down the stairs. All that evening, she danced and talked with animation, even smiling politely when Mr Leahy stopped the dancing and made his announcement.

When the dancing resumed and he saw his daughter curtsey to her new fiancé Sir Colum gave a huge sigh of relief. He had been in fear of her actually refusing Leahy publicly. He desperately needed this marriage to come off. His debts were extreme and Leahy had promised to pay them all off with plenty of money to spare, but only if he had Lady Margaret Mary Reid for his wife.

The only one who had any suspicions that Maggie was playing along was Gerry. He alone knew her gaiety was false and that she was planning something. When he mentioned his suspicions to her during one of their dances Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise. Planning something! Sure, I don’t know what you mean, my dear brother!

I know that smug look you get when you going to do something bold! Don’t forget, I’ve seen that look many times before!

Gerry, let me ask you this. Are you going to help me get out of this appalling predicament?

Maggie, Maggie! There’s nothing to be done! You must accept that!

She smiled as sweetly as she could. Thank you! That’s all I wanted to know!

Gerry’s eyes brightened and he lowered his voice, conspiratorially. You know, Maggie. Once you’re married, you’ll have so many advantages! Freedom for one thing! And money! Lots of it! You and I can travel all over the continent and leave the old husband behind!

Maggie shivered with revulsion. Husband! Ugh! No, Gerry! Never! Not a man like that! I’d rather die!

The family returned home about one a.m. and after listening to her father bleat on about how pleased he was with her she said her goodnights and went to her room, locking the door. Very quietly she dressed herself in some of Gerry’s old clothes, packed a valise with her clothes, jewels and her music box and lay on her bed until the household settled down. At two a.m. she slipped quietly from the still, sleeping house and made her way along the path and out through the gates.

She walked in the moonlight for eight miles until she came upon her gypsy friends, Birdie and her mother, Old Kitty. The desolation she felt during that long walk was great; her heart was heavy with the knowledge that she was leaving the only home she had ever known and especially her kind and gentle brother. The heavy music box had kept knocking against her thighs and she’d had to keep changing it and the valise from one hand to the other to try to ease the pain in one leg or the other. For many weeks after the bruises on her legs were a constant reminder of that dreadful hike.

Finally, at about dawn, she stood on top of a hill and looked down through the early morning mist at the pretty, horseshoe shaped caravan that was painted bright yellow with flowers and leaves picked out all around the lower edges. The caravans’ tiny door was wide open and Maggie smiled with relief as she saw a woman’s figure moving about inside. Birdie was sitting by a small fire a few yards away from the caravan stirring something in a black pot. Hearing a noise, Birdie stood up quickly and stared at the figure in the long purple cape that came hurrying out of the mist and down the hill towards her. She stood with her mouth open in surprise, mixed with a little fear.

Maggie called out to her. Birdie! It’s me! Maggie Reid! The young woman’s heart sank. Mistaking Birdie’s shocked look she thought for a moment that her friend was displeased to see her. She came closer, dropped her valise and stammered, trying hard to keep back the tears that were appearing in the corner of her weary blue eyes. I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have come! I should have…!

Birdie suddenly came to her senses and burst out. Maggie! Darling girl! Take no notice of me being so slow. We’ll blame it on the early hour! And it being such a shock at you being here so early in the morning! She took Maggie’s hands and felt their coldness. Oh! Just look at you! You’re freezing!

Birdie rubbed Maggie’s hands until the warmth came back. She pulled her gently to the fire and stirred up the smouldering embers. Now, you sit down here by the fire and get yourself warm! I was just about to get breakfast for Ma and me and there’s enough for you too! Ma’s dressing but she’ll be out soon and then you can tell us both what’s the matter!

Old Kitty, Birdie’s eighty-year-old mother, carefully eased her way down the four steps of the caravan. She toddled over to the fire leaning on a very knobbly stick and with sharp, black little eyes, peered into the girl’s face. Her little wrinkled face suddenly broke into a toothless grin. Well now! It’s little Maggie Reid! What can you be doing here on this fine morning and at such an early hour?

With these words, the tired young girl, uncharacteristically, allowed the tears to fall. I had nowhere else to go!

Birdie had never known Maggie to be this upset in all the years they had been friends and she was full of sympathy for her. She said, soothingly, hugging the trembling young girl. Of course you didn’t! Haven’t I always told you to come to me if you were in trouble? Haven’t I?

Maggie nodded and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. It was my father, you see!

Birdie gave a contemptuous growl. She had known Sir Colum Reid nearly all her life and had never liked him. He had a bad reputation in all the nearby towns and villages for being a wastrel and was in the process of gambling away his family fortune. She asked. What has that old reprobate done now?

Maggie explained. He informed me last night that I am to marry Edward Leahy!

What! Cried Birdie. The man’s worse than an animal! He’s destroyed the lives of at least half a dozen young women around here! The shame of his lechery killed his poor wife! And those sons of his are just as bad! How in the name of creation can your father even think of tying you to him?

Maggie, somewhat recovered, sneered. Money!

I might have known! Said Birdie. Well you can stay with us for as long as you like, darling girl. Ma and me’ll be glad of your company! Us two old crows get tired of hearing each other’s noise! Isn’t that so, Ma?

Old Kitty had sat through the entire conversation shaking her untidy grey hair; tut tutting when she felt it was appropriate. She nodded, gleefully. Ah sure yes! That’s so, Birdie! But we’ll have to get her away from here quick now! They’ll come after us, looking for her, don’t you know!

The younger woman frowned in thought. Ma’s right! Your father knows we are friends so it won’t take him long to think of coming to me in the hopes of finding you!

Old Kitty piped up. We’ll take her to Cork!

Birdie agreed. Yes! We’ll do exactly that! They’ll never think of looking that far off! All our family’s in Cork and they’ll help us until we decide what to do! What do you think, Maggie?

The girl smiled with relief and thankfulness. I’d like to stay with you and Old Kitty, if you’re sure that it’s all right!

Birdie slapped her hands on her thighs, decisively. That’s settled then! Here now! Take your bag and this box thing you’ve brought with you and stow them in one of the cupboards in the caravan, while I clear everything up. Ma, you get the villain ready!

The three women hurriedly went about their tasks and within half an hour they were on their way south, towards Cork. They sat perched high up on the hard bench as the drove through the beautiful county of Mayo.

With a low heart, Maggie thought to herself. I don’t suppose I’ll ever come back here again. I may just be seeing these hills and green turf of my home county for the last time ever!

She watched as the low, grey and white lacy walls seemed to fly by and she soaked up the scene of the workmen cutting up the turf from the wide-open bogland.

They passed by tiny one-roomed cottages; some made of stone others of hardened sod. They waved and smiled at the shawl clad women and ragged children as they went past. Maggie could smell the turf in the air and closed her eyes so as to remember the scent clearly in the future.

When they got to one particularly steep hill, Maggie looked with pity on the old horse as he struggled to pull his load up the hill, huffing and puffing like an old steam kettle. Old Kitty noticed the look and cackled. Don’t pay no mind to the villain! He’s only doing it for attention!

Maggie laughed. Why do you call him ‘the villain’?

Birdie solemnly explained. Well now, when he was just a young fellow whenever we’d try to hitch him to the caravan he would run away and Ma here’d be running after him yelling ‘Come here, you little villain, you!’ So now he won’t come to her until she tells him he’s a villain! He never took to being called Curadh!

Maggie turned to look at Old Kitty, whose little squashed up face was split by an evil looking grin. She cackled loudly, again. You’d have laughed, too, if you’d have seen me chasing round the fields after him, holding up me skirts and screeching like a Banshee, yelling at the top of me voice, I’m going to boil your hide and make medicine out of you, you little villain, you!"

The three of them remained in Cork for about a month and for another ten happy months, they roamed the countryside in the wild and sometimes savage part of the South West, selling medicines and potions from Killarney to Clonakilty. Maggie had never been so contented and had never experienced such complete freedom in all her eighteen years.

One day, Old Kitty presented her with a low whistle; which she taught her to play; and the three women would entertain each other by singing, dancing and playing music around the campfire, until one terrible night in the April of the following year when four drunken men burst into the clearing where they had camped for the last two months and attacked them.

The ringleader of the four louts was called McQuaid. He was a big, heavily scarred individual who was always in trouble with the local people and the authorities. Hours earlier, when the three women were in the nearby village of Ballydun, he had accosted them and shouted accusations at Birdie, saying that she had poisoned his wife with one of her potions. The loud voice drew a crowd and McQuaid became incensed when Birdie pointed out that his wife had died because he had beaten her so severely after one of his drunken bouts.

Birdie told the listening crowd, That poor lady came to me three days ago, bent over in agony, asking me for some medicine for her stomach. I told her to see a doctor but she was too frightened to do that in case he found out. All I gave her was a bottle of harmless blackberry juice. Nothing to do a body any harm!

McQuaid ranted a bit more but knowing what a violent man he could be the crowd was against him so his friends dragged him away telling him they could catch up with the gypsy women another time.

That night the men sneaked up to the caravan and stormed into its tiny room and started to drag out the three sleepy eyed women. Old Kitty yelled and made feeble attempts to kick and claw at McQuaid as he yanked her roughly to the door. He threw her down the few steps where she lay in a heap, still and unmoving. Her neck had been broken as she hit the ground. Birdie had heard the dreadful sound and screamed, loudly, struggling to get away from the man holding her. McQuaid went to her and hit her full in the face, knocking her unconscious; he then pulled her over to a tree, threw a rope over one of the branches and put the noose over her head. He pulled at the rope until her feet were off the ground as Maggie kicked and bit at the man holding her. She screamed and yelled at them to stop. Let her down! You’ll kill her! Why are you doing this?

The man holding her sneered, putting his face close to hers. The stench of his foul breath made her recoil. Shut up! You gypsy girl! It’s your turn next!

Maggie’s eyes widened in terror as he dragged her over to McQuaid. She kicked and struggles and managed to get away from the man but he soon caught her and dragged her back to where the other men were letting Birdie’s body down. She started screaming and pulling away and McQuaid shouted at the man, Shut her up and bring her over here, will you?

The man put a dirty hand over her mouth to quiet her and she bit into his palm until she tasted blood. Ah! The little witch bit me!

Exasperated, McQuaid stalked over to Maggie and hit her on the head with a stick and she fell to the ground, senseless.

Suddenly, through the trees raised voices were heard calling. The big man yelled at his three henchmen, Someone’s coming! Let’s get out of here!

The three of them ran as fast as they could back the way they had come leaving McQuaid who had gone to the fire, picked out a burning stock from the embers and threw it into the caravan. He then fled after his companions. The burning stick landed on one of the beds and set the blankets alight and soon the caravan was a raging inferno. Rescue came, but too late for Birdie and Old Kitty. Maggie remained with her rescuers, the Dooley family, and came with them to America a few weeks after the tragic death of her friends.

Maggie screwed up her eyes trying to stem the tears that threatened to overflow and when she managed to open them again, she found herself not in her native Ireland; sitting under the curved canopy of a brightly painted gypsy caravan, laughing and singing with fiery Old Kitty and her sweet and gentle daughter, Birdie; but on a noisy, sooty train in a country thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean.

Maggie sighed, thinking that even though she was among several dozen people travelling and with two of her dearest friends, she still felt very much alone.

The train finally rolled into the station and Maggie threw off her despondent mood. Resolving never to allow herself to feel such self-pity ever again. She, Tom and Kate got their bags and made for the exit. Can I help you with your bags, miss? asked the young fellow whose oversize cap bore the legend ‘Porter’. Maggie was standing on the top step of the train, gazing intently beyond the railway station at the dusty streets and false fronted, one-storey buildings of the town of Independence. All around her was noisy and dirty, but she saw and heard nothing of this because of the new feeling of anticipation that suddenly blossomed like a flower after a drought.

The strident voice repeated, Miss! Do you want any help with your bags?

Maggie’s blue eyes sparkled merrily under her dark, heavy brows. She waved him away, saying, in her soft Irish accent, No, thank you, little man! I’ve only got these two small bags, and I can manage them all by myself!

Her dimpled smile softened her refusal, revealing even white teeth. The boy grinned, doffed his cap and moved away to help someone else. From behind, Maggie heard a lady’s voice cry with mock severity, If you’re quite finished gazing about Maggie, perhaps Tom and I could get down!

Oh! I’m sorry, Kate! Maggie apologised, as she hopped neatly down the rest of the steps. Sure, I’m that excited that I’ve lost my manners completely!

Dropping her bags, she moved back to the steps where her friend was struggling with a large, heavy suitcase. Katherine Pierce was a slightly plump, fair-haired young American woman with a high girlish voice. Her round, pretty face was hot, and flushed with the effort of pulling the case through the train’s narrow doorway. Maggie helped her heave it down the steps onto the wooden boardwalk.

The ladies pulled it to one side and waited for Kate’s husband, Tom to get down. He too, was loaded to his armpits with various bags and packages. Grunting heavily, he set his burden down and looked about him for a porter.

The station was in chaos. People were milling around everywhere, calling for their luggage, to their children or laughing with joy when they found the ones that had come to meet them, and because of this; and of the rushing steam of the train; Tom’s voice, calling out, Porter! couldn’t be heard above the din, except by those unfortunate enough to be close to him. He picked up his load, and grinned boyishly at the two women. Well, girls! It looks like we’ll have to carry our own bags!

Just then, the young porter walked by impudently pushing his way through the throng of people with the baggage he was carrying. ’Scuse me! Mind your backs there please! Porter comin’ through! One sour faced woman was reluctant to move and the boy cried out loudly to her. Come on, lady, move over! Unless you want to end up on the tracks!

Her expression darkened. Well really! Young man I’ve a good mind to report you to the station superintendent! How dare you speak to a lady so! Such impudence!

Tom saw the retort appearing on the boy’s face so he diverted his attention by calling out to him. Hey there, young man! Where’s Green’s Hotel?

Since the boy’s arms were so full that he had to point with his chin. It’s straight down that street, mister! It’s only a few minutes’ walk! You can’t miss it!

Tom thanked him and slipped a small coin into his waistcoat pocket, then turning to the ladies, he said, "We