Tairneanach

The sun was just coming up over the eastern mountains when the train came chugging in to the station. Aislin had fallen asleep on her fathers shoulder where her head still rested.

The steam engine whistled loudly as the massive train chugged jerkily to a halt. Aislin sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she worked to focus on her surroundings.

"Ayre we here Da?"

Aislins father nodded his head as he stood from his seat to take account of his family. One wife, one daughter, three sons and an infant. Satisfied, Ian McCaurley corralled his family together as he shepherded them toward the exit. Next he took hold of Ethan, the eldest boy and together they went to find what luggage they had been able to pack onto the train. The rest of their belongings would have to follow them in the wagon train.

Mother McCaurley handed the baby to Aislin then took the two younger boys in hand. Getting lost now, after all they had endured, in a strange land would not do at all.

Ian had telegraphed ahead making arrangements for a wagon and team. The homestead was partially finished. It had a well and a house on the land but the couple who had started the ranch had been taken tragically; the fall before, with a fever that swept through the community like the black plague. Many ranches had been abandoned. This was a wild country; one could not do it alone. Many husbands had been left with small children, wives had been left to tend the farms with no husband to help. Many had been forced to go back where they'd come from; to family.

Aislins parents knew the risks, the challenges but this was better than paying rent for a one room, leaky apartment after going down the mine, fifteen hours a day, sustained by moldy bread, a slice of cheese and dirty water. They would own their land, it would be their farm and they would grow corn and potatoes, carrots and beets, cabbage and lettuce. They would raise pigs and chickens. If you could make a go of the land, if you could show you were making progress then the land was yours. If it's one thing Ian McCaurley knew...it was farmin' potatoes! He was a fifth generation potato farmer from the old country and if nothing else, at least his family would not starve.

The wagon was all hitched up, bags, boxes and family loaded into the back, Ian stopped to the recorders station; to sign the deed and get the map before leaving town. It was a bit of a trek; from the town, to the homestead but if they got right to it thy could make it by sundown. At the worst they might be forced to sleep one night under the stars. Ian clutched anxiously at his rifle and the box of extra ammunition which sat solidly between his wife and himself on the wagon seat; his hunting knife strapped in securely at his waistband. It had been a gift from his father as they boarded the ship from Ireland bound for the Americas. Ian, had assured his father there would be no need in the new land; where the streets were paved with gold and ran thick with milk and honey but even as Ian signed the books on Ellis Island and was handed a work permit to go down the mines, he had found himself grateful for the thoughtful gift from his father. The knife had saved his life in more ways than one many times and had served to feed his family when by odd chance he had happened upon a stray dog or large rodent on those cold, thankless nights of winter starvation in New York City.

Ian McCaurley was not a poor man; his father was a dignitary of some repute back in the old country and Ian had brought a large sum of money with him to secure property, lodgings, wagons and supplies but discovered quickly that merchants could ask whatever sounded good to them for their products that everyone needed. The money dwindled rapidly and within months of their arrival Ian knew he would have to make some very hard decisions. It was already too late in the season to head west and the kids had just become settled in the schools. Aislin showed particular promise in both figures and music; of course Aislin had always been particularly gifted...especially musically. She just took to education like a fish takes to water. Ian had no desire to take Aislin from the culture and education rich environment they had settled in and yet....everyone would suffer mercilessly soon at the rate they were being forced to spend their savings.

Working in the mine was a ready occupation but even that

had become first come first serve much of the time. Winter had come early and first thing Ian was up with the sun and off to the mines he would go. A wild turkey, had found its way to their veranda, on the fourth floor of their high rise. Quick as lightning Da had slit that turkeys throat so there would be good meat and good eats for several days but after that was gone...who knew what the meat would be? Rat stew one night or pigeon perhaps? They all walked a little faster, their pants a little looser that winter but winter had passed and now it was spring and they were off to a new life...ANOTHER new life.

The day wore on and on and Aislin was sure they would never find their way but just as the moon was high in the sky, Da cried out..."We're home!!!"

Another hour and they were pulling around the front of a large cabin. Apparently someone had been expecting them as an oil lantern was burning on the front porch and a stew was set in the center of a large wood table, plates, napkins and flat-wear for all but baby Darla. Aislin thought back and remembered fingering the carefully hand stitched linen napkins before seating herself. Mama tried hard to be happy, and she really was but the laughter of happiness and relief, mingled together with her tears were confusing for the children. An extra napkin had been unfolded and laid carefully over the middle of the table. Six Year old Declan quickly yanked the napkin away to reveal its secrets. Everyone gasped. A beautiful loaf of fresh baked bread and a cake of sweet creamy butter were there on a glass saucer and stone. Well that was the end of it as mama melted into a puddle of tears as if she had been ice cream before the blazing hot sun.

The next day, as all were busy unpacking, Aislin ran to explore the property. Delighted, she found a stream nearby. The cool clear water felt fabulous on her hot feet. Next was the barn. The sun beat down hot upon all within its reach. As Aislin made her way to the worn wooden structure, several chickens were startled from where they had been nesting. They had been told to expect a few animals the previous owners had left when they passed but the frightened chickens had frightened Aislin just as badly as she had frightened them!.

Carefully Aislin pulled the barn doors open but only the team her Da had put in there when they arrived were in there now. Still, there was a nice long ladder leading to the hay loft that seemed promising. Just as Aislin went to step onto the first wrung, a noise came from outside. The horses pranced and whinnied anxiously. There was a door at the other end of the barn and Aislin cautiously made her way toward it. Again; there was some rustling. Aislin trembled involuntarily, her palms and forehead clammy in the mounting mid morning heat. Pulling the door open slowly, Aislin was nearly knocked backwards by the wild Paint standing on the other side. Clearly he hadn't expected her, his eyes wild as he reared up on his hind legs. Aislin screamed as she fell backwards barely missing the pitch fork tines as she did. The horse sped away; leaving Aislin shaky and weak kneed.

The daylight was wasting, Aislin knew; as she collected herself, brushed the dirt and straw from her clothes; swiping at an errant red curl that had fallen across her forehead and down her face. For a moment Aislin considered the wild horse that had startled her, strong and commanding. He would make a fabulous prize if she could tame him. Ailsin giggled, "Tame him? First I have to catch him!"

The days passed slowly in the growing summer heat but still there had been no second sighting of the wild paint. Aislin had begun to think she imagined the whole thing. She had been extremely tired. There was no school seeing as it was summer break but Aislin's mother required them to read at least a half hour every day to keep their minds sharp. Aislin had taken to climbing up in the hay loft to do her reading. She'd put a couple of chairs and a small table up there as well as a lantern for late evening reading.

Bradey, the youngest boy, had been given the very important job of collecting the chicken eggs. It was a new adventure every single morning as the four year old found hidden troves of white, brown, and green eggs scattered all over the barn. Aislin watched, with genuine amusement, as Bradey squealed with glee at finding more eggs. Bradey had just found the last four eggs and placed them into the towel lined basket when a loud sound began. It started low like the rolling of thunder across the sky when in the distance Aislin could see a herd of wild horses. The parched ground became clouds of dust as it rose from the angry hooves. A loud bang sounded at the door and Aislin hurried to see what it was. Bradey was already nearly to the big double doors when the angry mob tore through the grounds. The garden they'd planted torn through mercilessly. Aislin grabbed hold of Bradey's arm pulling him back against her, his egg basket went soaring through the air, his precious jewels no doubt broken to bits. Aislin sat Bradey down on a hay bale before turning back to the door. There, prancing angrily, was the paint. His eyes wild just like before but this time he didn't bolt and run; he stood his ground, daring Aislin to challenge him. An old apple barrel with a few wrinkled apples in it provided Aislin with an idea. Slowly Aislin backed toward the barrel and taking hold of two apples, removed her pocket knife from her pocket. Cautiously Aislin sliced the apple into four parts. The horse eyed her movements warily. Aislin held out one portion of the quartered apple to the horse. He frowned at her but sniffed the apple curiously. It was ripe and on the verge of going bad, the horse wasn't sure he liked the idea and KNEW he didn't trust the girl. still....it had been a long while since he'd had an apple. Deciding the fruit was just too delectable to pass up, the paint nibbled at it carefully before snatching it up. Pleased with the offering; the horse whinnied loudly for more and Aislin didn't hesitate to give him more. Aislin pat the horse on the neck but he started and jumped back from her. She sliced up the last apple and the horse slowly made its way back to where Aislin was still standing just inside the door. When the apple was gone, the horse reared back then beat the ground with it's powerful hooves, he danced about for a bit then tore off across the hillside and was gone.

The days turned into weeks but still no sign of the horse and Aislin began to wonder if she would ever see him again. Her father set to building a fence around the garden, moving it out of the pathway of trampling stampedes. It was almost too late in the season to plant again but if they were diligent they might have just enough summer left to get a half way decent harvest from. Yes, it was all hands on deck. No time for day dreaming or wandering about until the garden was in and showing signs of progress. Still, Aislin kept a vigilant eye out for the wild horse she had named Thunder. He didn't really look like a Thunder but he felt like one and the fire in his eyes seemed like thunder, fire and ice.

Times were terrible tight and yet they still felt fuller and happier than life had been in New York. If they were starving, Da would just go fishin' in the stream. If they were needin' to cook, Da would just go chop down a tree to light up the stove. Most stuff they needed they could come by for free and a little elbow grease right there on their land. There were always eggs and Da had wrangled himself a couple of wild pigs and a turkey so there was always meat. AIslin was lost in thought while mother whipped the eggs into a frenzy. The Turkeys were acting up as were the chickens and other animals. The ground shook with the rumble of angry hooves. It was the herd again! Once again they tore right through the middle of the property and Ian was grateful he'd moved the garden as well as fencing it in.

Aislin ran out to the barn just in case Thunder had come but returned to the house disappointed. No Thunder. Aislin put the lard and flour in the bowl then worked it to a course crumble. After that she poured cold water into it to form a dough ball. She then rolled the dough out. Carefully she lifted the dough placing it in a pie tin. Ma had sent the boys out to pick cherries on the far side of the property. When they came back Aislin would put the cherries and some sugar into the pie shell and bake it. There wasn't anything Aislin couldn't do once he set her mind to it. What Aislin wanted to do was capture that horse and tame it!

Later that night, as Aislin lay on a blanket up in the hay loft reading, there came a noise. Hoof beats but slow...walking hoof beats. Aislin knew without even looking that Thunder had returned. Grabbing her knife, Aislin made her way to the far door, grabbing several wrinkled apples as she went The horse was ready to enjoy this time. There was no hesitation in him. Aislin took hold of a blanket and tried to put it on his back but Thunder bolted away not to return until the next day.

Ian had been watching as Aislin tried to woo her colt but Ian knew better. This was a wild horse; it would take several men; stronger and better educated, in the art of horse taming to break this horse and then what? He would no longer be the wild horse Aislin had fallen in love with. Ian took Aislin aside...

"You can't keep this horse Aislin. In order to keep him, you would have to break him and they call it breaking a horse for a reason. You wont want them to do the things they will have to do to him to make him yours and who told you you have that right? Is the horse yours?

Aislin dropped her head, shaking it from side to side slowly.

"The horse has a place to be lass. You best just let him be about gettin off to home."

Thunder came back from time to time; as long as the apples held out and Aislin explained to him that Thunder in Gaelic was Tairneanach a great warrior... but then he would go and be gone again. Come winter, the horse vanished and never returned. Aislin found herself more and more busy with school, music, plays and baking but from time to time she would sit in her loft and remember the Paint horse she'd named Thunder and wonder what had happened to her one time friend.

The End