It took Anne several months to trust again.
Iain had wrestled John into a wagon and taken him to the town constable while the shaken family ate their supper. For the remainder of the O'Flaherty's visit, Anne tried to forget about John and his sugar- spun lies. All of the things that he had promised her were simply summer clouds- light, full of no substance, and so very far away. She tried to forget how much she had trusted him, and wanted to erase the memory of his sickening grin as he talked about his motives. She shuddered to think of what he had planned. How would their marriage have gone? Anne was almost certain that he would have made a pass at every pretty girl to catch his fancy.
Perhaps the worst part was that John's parents and older sister had made no apologies, no recompense for his behavior. They had always kept to themselves; it was rumored that only John had left the property in the ten years that they had lived in Running Creek.
On one very hot May day months later, she sat by the creek at the edge of their property. The cool water lapped softly at the banks, teasing her, begging to be played in, but Anne was far too old to be playing in laughing creeks.
She was resting from the work of planting the corn. Iain had come down to help, but in years past, John had come to lighten the burden. They were a hand short now.
From her position, she could see a bit of the road as it curved around the creek, upstream from where Anne sat. She could see the billowing smoke that the trains belched out, and she heard the shrill whistle. It was the middle of the week, only Wednesday, and Emma was not on this train, so she neither knew nor cared about who was on it.
But she was aching to go to the town, not because she needed to buy anything, but because she needed to see somebody else, beside her family. Yes, she and Charles had written a few times since his visit (and his handwriting was improving), but it was not a proper substitute for actual interaction.
She decided to go into town, just to walk and clear her head. Even in May, John still bothered her.
As she got up and walked the dusty road, she caught Iain's eye. He smiled and then continued on, seeming to understand her sudden need for people.
It was odd to think that for years they had avoided town all they could, and now everyone in town knew them. Strange that she had been so calm, tolerating naught but the chatter of her siblings, and now she needed someone else. Each day she had prayed for help, and her yoke had been lifted the slightest bit.
A bright babbling sound faintly came to her as she entered the town. People milled about freely, with those who had come from Denver on the train. She passed the empty schoolhouse, forlornly sitting, on its holidays. She hadn't ever gone back, not out of spite, but because she hadn't wanted to. Jane, Lizzie, and Maria did, though, every day.
As she stood in the shade of the tree in front of the school, she noticed a forlorn woman, with two children. They looked to be about four years old, five maybe, and although the clothes they wore were clean, they were patched and faded. The mother looked around, for what or whom she looked for Anne did not know.
Anne walked to the family. "Can I help you?" she asked.
The woman's brown eyes widened and sparkled, and her lips smiled. "Yes, please. I'm looking for the MacEilan's farm."
Anne was afraid of seeming curt and cold, but she was worried that this might be another situation like with John- earn her trust, then milk them dry. "May I ask what for?"
The woman smiled knowingly. "You're a MacEilan, aren't you?"
The way that this woman acted so calm and gentle pushed away thoughts of robberies. Anne decided to give in. "Did the accent give it away?"
Both laughed a little, the children laughing for no reason other than that their mother was. "Yes. That and the hair. Kenneth's hair was just the same shade as yours."
A rock dropped into Anne's stomach. "How do you know Kenneth? He died years ago." Anne blinked and shook her head a little. "Come with me. I'll take you to the farm."
*****
Mary didn't know what to think of the woman and her children. She had introduced herself as "Maggie, Maggie Gold MacEilan" , but even through the soft demeanor and supposed truthfulness of her story, something still felt odd, different, strange, wrong even. Kenneth had been dead for years... but, she remembered, the army never found his body. They had only found a tattered, bloody uniform in the wilds of western Canada, where he'd been stationed prior to his disappearance. The family had been told that wolves, or coyotes- an animal foreign to Ireland- had taken the body somewhere else.
She didn't dwell on those days. Understandably.
But part of her mind still craved to think that this was the truth. She missed her brother, like any sister would have. He'd always been so dear to everyone in the family, and it had been a terrible day when they received notice that he had gone missing, and, after much searching, pronounced dead. There had been indisputable proof at the time. It was final, sudden, and harsh; the news split the family to the core.
Now this woman showed up in the town, claiming to be his wife, and the children she said were his. The girl was a perfect miniature of her mother, with brown- blonde hair, high cheekbones, and big, doe- like brown eyes; but the boy was clearly Kenneth, from the red curls that framed his face to the knobby knees and loud, playful manner. Mary wanted to believe, and she had a good chunk of her that told her to lap up Maggie's words, but her judgement told her that the woman was only another person there to hurt them, to hurt the people who had already endured so much.
Mary decided to believe her wild claims. Besides, there was hardly anything of value for her to pilfer from the house anyways.