Straw Man

Part Two of Three

Fionn Rafferty lives on a small farm near Ballintee in Co. Sligo, Ireland. He loves all his animals and often spends time during the night visiting the cows and horses in the family’s barn. One particular night, an odd noise and tumbling straw bale led him to discover someone hiding in an empty horse stall.

“SSSShhhhh. Shhhhhh,” a voice whispered huskily. “I’ll not hurt ye, but shhhhhh.”

Fionn stiffly shook his head, the hand still over his mouth.

“Promise now,” the voice said. Again Fionn did his best to nod ‘yes’.

The instant the hand began to release, Fionn turned toward the open barn door. Just as he was about to scream, the hand clasped him again.

“Stop that,” the voice hissed. “I mean ye no harm…as long as you’re quiet.”

Fionn did his best to shake his head more convincingly. After a few seconds, the hand dropped from his mouth. Fionn was too terrified to move and just stayed crouched, breathing into the neck of his pajama top.

“Right then. Good. But quiet now.”

What should he do? Fionn’s head was a muddle of ideas. If he stood up and moved quickly, he could likely get far enough away that the arm couldn’t reach him. He played with this option, hoping a better one would occur to him.

“What do ye want, mister?” Fionn finally asked. “We’ve nothing here worth stealing.”

There was no response.

Fionn couldn't think what to do. Afraid he might start to cry, he took a deep breath.

"Mister, let me go back to bed. Please," he added.

"There's nothing to worry about, son. I’m only visiting the area. It started raining as I passed your lane so I was cheeky enough to come in for shelter. There’s a lovely straw bed here and I thought I’d have a wee sleep before I get on with my trek.”

Before he could stop himself, Fionn blurted. "But you're bleeding. Why are you bleeding?"

"Now that's of no concern to you," the voice assured him.

"I could get Mam to clean that up for you. She's good at nursin'."

Fionn heard a deep sigh, then the voice said, “I'll be on my way in an hour or so. I don't want to bother anyone. You'll not tell, mind?"

Though he knew the best thing to do was assure whomever was behind the bales that he wouldn't dream of telling anyone, Fionn asked, "But don't you need help?"

There was silence, then, "Do ye think I can trust ye?"

"Aye."

"I could go a big drink of water then.”

"There's a tap on the side of the house." Fionn pointed in that direction, then remembered the voice was still hidden beyond the bales.

“Do ye think ye could get me some of that water?

Fionn knew that the voice would have to let him go if he were to get some water.

“I could but I’ll need a cup. I can go into the… .”

“No there’s no call for that. Is there not a cup or bucket or some manner of pail in here? I’d think there would be.”

With that, the voice trailed away, and Fionn heard what could only be a groan coming from the stall.

“Are ye sure ye don’t need Mam?” Fionn asked again.

“No. Just the water if ye can find a cup for it.”

Fionn was certain there were buckets in the barn. He and Colum used to fill them halfway with oats, then pour water over them to soak for the calves.

Searching desperately to find the bucket or pail that would allow him the freedom to go to the water tap, Fionn’s eyes fell on an old pail by the heifers. He could see it was

caked with hardened oats, but it would surely do, he thought. ‘Better than nothing’.

“There’s one just across from here,” Fionn informed the darkness. “Will I go fetch it?”

“You’ll go out and get some water then?” A man’s face suddenly peered out at him. There were bits of straw in his wavy dark hair and what looked like mud streaked across his chin and left cheek. He wasn’t an old man, Fionn decided. He looked to be just a bit older than Colum.

“I’ll have to run the water awhile to clean out the bucket,” he said to the face.

“No bother. A wee bit of dirt never hurt anyone.”

“It’ll be old oats stuck to the bottom and sides. That’s one of the calves’ old feed buckets.

“Sure it’ll be grand.”

“Will I go get it now?” Fionn asked.

“Ye’ll fetch the water and bring it right back?”

Fionn nodded he would.

“And not stop to tell anyone? I doubt your da would want to find a stranger in his barn.”

“You can trust me. I promise,” Fionn did his best to reassure the stranger.

“You seem a grand wee man,” came the response.

“Aye, I am indeed.”

With that, Fionn stood up and walked quickly to the bucket. He turned around to the stranger and pointed again at the house. The man nodded and sat back down behind the bales.

Toby was waiting for him at the open door. He waited to see what Fionn was doing, so followed him over to the tap.

Letting the water run over the top of the bucket, Fionn tried to scrape off some of the oats stuck along the sides and bottom. It was no use. They’d been stuck there for months now. Neither he nor Colum had remembered to bring the buckets in for a good cleaning when the calves no longer needed their oats soaked.

It would just have to do. Fionn filled the bucket half way then turned off the tap.

He waited a few moments, hoping that the sound he’d made hadn’t wakened any of the family. When no light flicked on from the bedroom windows, he lifted the bucket and moved quickly as possible back to the barn.

“Ah, good man,” the stranger said when Fionn put down the bucket where the man could reach it.

“I only filled it part way, so it wouldn’t be too heavy for you to lift and drink.”

“Good man indeed,” was the reply.

Fionn waited, listening to the rustle of the bucket against the straw. He could hear when the man began to drink, then suddenly realized he was free to leave and get himself and Toby back to the house.

“I’ll be off, then?” Fionn inquired tentatively.

“You wouldn’t stay out here a bit longer? I could use the craic.”

Fionn knew he should refuse but something about the man nudged at his interest.

There was a bus shelter just down the main road from the Rafferty lane. Surely the stranger could have gone into it when the rain started. There was no need to hide himself in someone’s barn.

Then he remembered the blood. His head told him not to mention it again, but his mouth didn’t listen.

“But why are you bleeding?” Fionn asked.

“It’s nothing to bother yourself about,” the man said. “Just a bad cut in my leg from falling off my bicycle down thon way. Bloody tourists don’t know how to drive on these wee bendy roads.”

“Where’s your bicycle now?” Fionn inquired, squinting to see if it were in the barn.

“I left it at the road. The frame bent when I fell and, when I got it upright, there was a puncture in the front tire.”

This, to Fionn, sounded a reasonable explanation.

“Are ye from about here?” Fionn asked. “I’ve not seen ye in the town at all.”

“No, I’m from up near Belfast,” was the reply. “I’ve not been down this way for years.”

“So you’re just visiting then?”

“I decided to take a wee dander down here on the old bike. I know it’s a great spot for a touring if you’re none too fussed about the hills. They’ll be the death of me some day.”

Fionn began to laugh at this, then remembered that, perhaps, the man was being serious. After all, there was the blood he was sure he’d seen.

“What are ye to do with your bike? Can you mend the puncture? I’ve got a tire pump on my bike just over there if ye’d want to give it a go,” Fionn offered.

“It will need proper mending,” the man replied. “I’ll just wheel it back in to the town when the rain stops.”

“It’s stopped raining now,” Fionn said, looking out through the sliding barn door.

“I’ll be on my way shortly then,” was the response.

“Would ye want a wee bite to eat? There’s a bit of scone bread left from our tea, I could bring it to ye if you want.”

Something about Fionn calmed the man. He seemed so earnest, so easy-going, not at all like most of the boys and young men he usually encountered. They were a dark lot mostly, serious and determined to escape their situations. He had been one of them himself. He still was, though some of the patina of his role in the cause had begun to desert him the past months. There weren’t many he could trust and that made life a dismal prospect, always keeping him on edge, on the alert. It was a welcome relief that this youngster still had the joy, and the ability to trust that his own family and colleagues had long ago lost.

“My name’s Fionn, by the way,” the boy said. “What’s yours?”

The man hesitated a moment. He cleared his throat, then replied, “Sure my name’s no never mind. No bother about it.”

Fionn seemed disappointed.

“It’s Liam. I’m Liam. ” The man finally spoke, deciding it would seem less suspicious if he had a name to give.

“So you’ll be off, then?” Fionn asked him.

“Aye. In a wee minute,” Liam replied. “You go on about your business, son. I’ll just wait here a wee bit longer. It’s a long walk back to the town.”

Although the man didn’t seem to be dangerous, his presence was still suspicious. Fionn was either too young or too trusting, but he always looked for the best in people. He wondered what the man would be up to if he left him alone. He’d likely be on his way as he said, but what if he weren’t?

Fionn was deep in thought, trying to decide what he should do when a bright beam suddenly bathed the yard in light. His first thought was he was in for it, if he got caught out here. Maybe Da had been out all this time when Fionn thought he was in his bed asleep.

“Bloody hell. I hope that’s not me da.”

There was no response from the man.

“Liam,” Fionn whispered. “Keep quiet. I’ll be for it if I’m caught.”

No response.

Just as well, Fionn thought. The less noise the better.

With a sudden bark, Toby raced across the yard and began what sounded like a frenzied welcome. Or a warning, perhaps?

Immediately, Fionn moved quickly to the stall gate and threw himself back behind the bales. He pulled himself closer to the man as he waited to see who it was. Fionn couldn’t remember anyone coming to the house this late at night.

“You’re all right there, boy.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, and Fionn was relieved that the ‘boy’ being addressed was Toby.

He peered through the opening and saw the outline of a man, standing at the front door of the house.

Fionn watched as the man knocked on the door, then seemed to be writing in a book of some sort.

When his first attempt got no response, he knocked again, harder this time.

The door finally opened, and Fionn saw his father silhouetted against the light from the lounge.

“Hello, officer,” Fionn heard his father say. “I surely wasn’t expecting you.” He then called, “It’s the Guards, Niamh.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” his mother responded. “What is it?”

Padraic turned back to the Garda. “Can I help you?”

The Garda finally spoke. “Aye. Sorry to disturb you at the scrake, but we’re on the lookout for a man from the North. He’s wanted for a few jobs up there and we got a tip he’s made it across the border and may have a safe house down here.”

“What’s he wanted for then?” Padraic asked.

“He’s a bit of a history with the lads, and there was a man looked like him cornered in a wee barn in Aughlone.”

“That’s just up and over the road."

“It is, indeed. Has there been anything out of the ordinary going on here,” the Garda quizzed. “Any sort of strange commotion at all?”

“Not at all,” replied Padraic. “Sure we’re all just sleeping as would anyone be at this hour.”

“Of course,” the officer said. “Sorry to disturb you of course.”

“No bother at all,” came Padraic’s reply.

The officer looked about him, then across the yard to the barn. “Ye’d not mind if I had a wee look around, then,” he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

“Certainly, no bother. If ye’ll give me a minute, I’ll get on my boots and come with you.”

“No need of that. We’ll take it from here. Sorry to have disturbed the house.”

Fionn gasped. His father would find him! Fionn got slowly up, and began to back out of the stall, hoping to make a run for the opening where a long-gone window had once been. It was big enough, Fionn thought, and he was tall enough now to jump up to the ledge, then pull himself out. He knew there were old farm machines and tools stored just under the window, but was certain he could lower himself carefully.

As the Garda and his father, who couldn’t be dissuaded from coming, neared the barn, Fionn remembered the man beside him.

“You’re all right, Liam,” he addressed him. ‘But I’m away like the hammers. Don’t want Da to find me.”

As he went to step to the back of the stall, planning to climb his way over the rungs, Liam grabbed his right leg.

“Get down,” he nearly hissed at Fionn.

The beam of a torch cast a glow on the heifers. The policeman stopped beside the young cows and began to sway his flashlight back and forth into the wide opening beside the horse stalls.

“What are…? Before Fionn could finish, he was pulled back toward the man, whose hand again covered his mouth.

“Shhhhhhh. Quiet,” he whispered hoarsely.

Fionn realized how serious his situation had suddenly become. He forgot his worry about getting caught out at night and turned his thoughts to Liam and why he was holding him back so forcibly. As he began to struggle and push away from the arm squeezed tightly around him, Fionn saw the light from the torch was now trained on the stalls beside them.

Before he could break away, Liam called out.

“No farther now. I’ve got the boy here. The wee lad.”

To be continued…