Firebrand by Sarah MacTavish

Author:Sarah MacTavish
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: texas, young adult, civil war, irish american fiction, 1860s, abolitionists, historical 19th century
Publisher: Sarah MacTavish

SEPTEMBER 15, 1860 - TEXAS

Saoirse

I did my best to keep my own head cool while Mam fussed at the hem of my skirt the afternoon before the shindy, as Jack so eloquently called it. Turned out there was a gown or two that belonged to Jack's mother in the attic, and she'd been much closer to my size.

“Stand still, Saoirse!” Mam said with a pin between her lips.

My feet were aching something terrible. I'd already been on them all day, helping Abigail with the party preparations. With all that cooking to do, she was forced to let me help her.

“The dress is fine, Mam,” I said with a whine. “Nobody will even be looking.”

Mam frowned. “I should never have allowed you outdoors. What were you doing? Dancing in it, were you?”

I bit my tongue to keep from snapping back. After dressing for the party, I’d gone to help Abigail, and gotten the heel of my boot snagged on my darn skirt.

“The less you move, the quicker I'll be finished.” Mam looked up at me, and smiled. “You know, there'll be a few handsome young men your age coming tonight. Isaac Wilson—”

“Scoundrel.”

“Henry Goodwin—”

“Bore.”

“Richard Chance.”

“Fat, and oafish.”

“Well, what about that handsome Shannon boy?”

“Stupid.”

Mam sat back and dropped her hands in her lap. “Saoirse, you can't be so picky.”

“He's very stupid.”

“You don't have many options,” she said, brow furrowing. “And 'tis best that you yourself make a choice before someone chooses for you.”

I bit my cheek and glared out the window.

Mam sighed. “Your father and I just want to see you're taken care of, Saoirse. Sometimes… well, you may not love a man at first, but over the years, you can come to care for one another.” She was trying to thread a needle, but her fingers were shaking.

I thought of Jack and Abigail, who had nothing but love. Then of my mother and father, and sometimes wondered if there was any spark of love between them at all. Da and Mam married so young, their parents must have arranged it.

“Mammy?” I asked softly. “Mam, do you love Da?”

She lifted her face, and smiled. “Of course I do, dear.”

“Does—” I hesitated. “Does Da love you?”

Her smile faltered, but her gaze was steady. “There's no man in the world that could love me more than Brian does.”

I tried not to stare in disbelief. If what my da showed to Mam was love, then I was Queen Victoria.

Mam threaded the needle, and finished stitching the loose hem in my skirt. “There,” she sighed, standing. “Let's have a look at you.” She walked around to inspect me. “Ah, it'll have to do. Now, don't you dare muss this dress. And stay out of the sun. I don't want to see you red or shining.”

“I'm only going to the kitchen to see Abigail,” I promised. Mam started to make a face. I pleaded. “I promise, I won't be touching anything! And I'll come right back inside.”

“Fine,” she said. “Go.”

I was out the room before I could hear her tell me again not to ruin the dress.

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