Going Gone, Book 2 of the Irish End Games Read Online Free PDF Page A

sounds of gunshots were unusual these days, and it didn’t take long for reports of the noise to make the rounds in Donovan’s small community of fifty people. He, himself, had heard the single gunshot as he was coming out of the stable, leading a horse on either side. He must have tensed, because one of the horses shied and had to be calmed. Although it was impossible to tell which direction the sound came from, instinctively he looked toward the Woodson cottage. He noticed his sister-in-law, Caitlin, standing by her tent watching him and he nodded curtly toward her in greeting. Gavin came running from across the central camp cook fire.
    â€œDa! Did you hear that? Sounds like it came from over near the Woodsons’. Me and Danny’ll check it out, eh?”
    Mike handed the horses off to a young teenage girl who materialized on his left. “Take these two, Nuala,” he said to her. “Put ‘em in the paddock for now.”
    â€œNot the south pasture, Mr. Donovan?”
    The girl was earnest and hardworking, Donovan knew. Pretty, too, but she didn’t seem to realize it.
    â€œNot just yet. Go on now.” He turned to Gavin, who was standing in front of him bouncing on the balls of his feet.
    â€œWhere’s young John?” he asked.
    Gavin pointed to the other side of the cook fire. “Fiona’s got him plucking chickens,” he said.
    Donovan followed his glance and saw that John was, indeed, standing with Fiona, a pile of feathers at his feet. But he was looking in the direction of his home.
    â€œSend him to me,” Donovan said. “And you go. But mind! Be sneaky about it. If there’s trouble over there, I want information not grandstanding.”
    Gavin was off before Mike had finished speaking. He watched him grab John by the shoulder and point to Donovan before sprinting off in the direction of the house. Mike saw John struggle between the desire to follow Gavin and obey the order to come to Mike. He turned and trotted over to Donovan.
    â€œYou hear a gunshot?” Mike asked him.
    â€œYes, sir. Over at our place.”
    â€œWe don’t know that. Gavin’s off to check on it and I’ll be needing you to stay here until we know what’s going on.”
    â€œBut, I…” John was clearly moments from tearing out after Gavin and Mike couldn’t help but think it a blessing that just the day before he’d the opportunity to impress upon the boy that he was to be obeyed at all times. If young John’s backside hadn’t still been smarting from his recent shellacking—and Mike had no doubt that it was—he might have been tempted to ignore Mike’s wishes. As it was, he looked in frustration in the direction of his house.
    â€œGo on, now,” Mike said. “Finish your chores. Gavin’ll be back in a tick if there’s anything to report.”
    Mike watched John trudge back to the campfire, where Fiona waited for him. She gave Mike a questioning look but he merely shrugged.
    They’d find out soon enough.
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    S arah sat in the back of the wooden cart, her hands tied in front of her, a gag in her mouth, her head leaning and banging against the rough wood sides of the bouncing cart as it jostled over the once-smooth country roads. The time between David being shot and her placement in the cart felt like a sequence in a dream. She didn’t remember how she got here, if she walked or was carried. She didn’t remember if the men spoke to her after they’d killed David, or laughed, or just turned away from the carnage. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the cart or how long it had been traveling down the long, bumpy road.
    Three women huddled with her in the bottom of the wooden cart but Sarah didn’t look at them. The smell of vomit, and worse, pooled on the floor, and with her mouth bound she was forced to breathe every vile gust through her nose. One of the women, a girl