Katie used her elbows to jostle through the crowd. She hated being only five feet tall. At least she had too many curves to be mistaken for a child, and far more than Deirdre had.

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 She found the tanning stall by reek of the hides. She searched the shop for her mystery man. He stood behind the counter, dickering with someone who caressed a bridle. Could he be a tanner, himself, then?

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Katie browsed the wares, stroking an undyed rabbit skin until he became available. When he completed his dicker, he turned his attention to her.

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“Softest rabbit this side of Dublin, mistress!” He flashed a grin, handsome hazel eyes crinkled in the sun. She smiled back, blinking her own moss-green eyes. She felt foolish, but knew how this play-act worked.

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“I’m actually looking for something … stronger.” She looked up at him. Though slim, he seemed to have a wiry strength. He blushed. How endearing. Her next smile felt more genuine.

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“Actually,” she glanced around to make sure no one stood too close and lowered her voice, “I noticed you had a wee bottle last night. I wondered if you had any… to spare for a lass?”

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He cleared his throat, and glanced around. If anyone were watching them, it would be clear they were up to no good.

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“Aye, well, yes, I do have a few bottles. I could bring one out tonight at the dance, if you like. We could share… some of the drink?” He smiled slightly.

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Tonight would be too late. “Well, to be honest—”

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“’Tis best to be honest, to be sure.” A wry voice from behind startled her, and she whirled around. One of the other gamblers loomed over her, the young man with the hair like hay. He bore a wide smile with white, straight teeth.

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She glared at the interruption, crossed her arms and turned back to the black-haired man.

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To be perfectly honest, I won’t be able to make it out at all tonight, to share anything… unless I can get my Da to sleep with drink first…” she raised her eyebrows at the man and shrugged. “I don’t have much coin, but I can pay some…” her fingers brushed her pouch.

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The blond man put his hand over hers, his skin cool.

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“No need for coin, then, my dear. Sure and Ciaran would be happy to lend you a bottle… on future consideration, as it were.” He winked at her and smiled. She flushed and looked toCiaran. He blushed and ducked back into the wagon behind the booth.

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While they waited, she turned. “And what is your name, then?”

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“Éamonn Doherty, at your service.” He tried to execute a bow, but he got bumped and jostled by a surge in the crowd behind him. He managed to bump his head into hers instead.

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“Ow! Bloody be-damned idjit! What in Brid’s name are you playing at?” She rubbed the sore spot, the same place her father had hit her.

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He tried not to laugh, she could tell. He tried to place his hand on her head, but she batted it away. Ciaran returned with a cool bottle of the needed spirits. He handed it to her, and she flashed him a grateful smile.

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“I’ll come find you when I can escape to thank you properly.” This made Ciaran blush again, and her grin widened. How sweet. She turned to glare at his friend. “You, on the other hand, need to move now. I’ve got to make it to the baker’s stall and home again before I’m missed. Come now, you big oaf, out of my way!” She tried to push past him. He resisted for a moment, giving her an admiring look, but let her pass with a smirk.

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She tied the bottle under her skirts and grabbed several loafs of horsebread. It should last a day or two at least. The stuff tasted like rotting peas, but cheap and filling. She hadn’t even had to use the coin, so she could use it herself later on.

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Katie returned to the hut, walking as tall as her short frame would allow. When she approached, she saw two men leaving with her Da. She didn’t recognize them, but they looked her up and down as they left. One looked like a fighting man: big and burly, older, with short brown hair and hard, black eyes. The younger one looked solid as well, but had fly-away blond hair and a dreamy look on his face.

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“Ma? Who were those men?” She handed the loaves to her mother while still looking back at the door.

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“Just someone your Da is dealing with. They’re looking to sell a horse, I think.” Her mother’s tone sounded unusually light.

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“Horses? How can we afford horses? We can barely afford horsebread!”

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“You leave the dealings to your da. It’s not your place to second guess his business.” Her mother’s tone snapped back to its normal sharpness.

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Katie hid the bottle in a discreet corner, and went about the rest of her chores. When her da went out, she placed the bottle where he would be sure to see it, but Ma wouldn’t. Ma would keep him from getting too drunk. She needed to distract her so Da would guzzle the poitín.

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“Ma? I saw new fabrics in the stalls on the way to get the bread. They had fine serge, but not expensive at all. Would you come look? It might work with some of the garments you’re making to sell, to bring up the class, I mean.”

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Her mother narrowed her eyes at her for several moments before saying, “Fine, then, we’ll go out. Your da will be back shortly anyhow.”

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Mother did buy some of the serge, and when they returned, Da sat in his alcove. The bottle had disappeared, and Katie smiled to herself. Her plan worked, for once. She put the success down to Deirdre not returning home in the interim.

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Shortly after her mother went to her alcove—she always went to bed early—and her father passed out from the drink, she slipped on a brightly colored overskirt and a shawl, and escaped into the cool April evening air.

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Her mother watched her leave from the darkness.

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