Free The Bodyguard by Joan Johnston Page B

months ago. His sister Glenna had gone to work in the kitchen of a great house in Dublin, and the housekeeper had offered to write a letter for her. Glenna had taken advantage of the opportunity to send word to himof how they all fared, but he had left the place where he had told her he would be, and following him from place to place, it had taken almost a year for the letter to find him.
    Glenna worked long hours, she said, but had plenty to eat and a warm bed at night. The others, she feared, were not faring as well. He took out the letter, which he had read so often it had worn thin along the creases. He pored over the words that were all he had to connect him to his family.
    Corey and Egan are chimney sweeps, but so far neither has been badly burnt in an accident. I worry about Corey. His master does not feed him well, in hopes he will stay small enough to fit into the tiniest chimneys. He is dreadfully thin. Egan cleans the great church chimneys. He says he is not afraid to climb to such enormous heights, but I think he only says that to comfort me.
    The baby, Blinne, is still at the orphanage. They have put her to work scrubbing floors.
    When are you coming home, Mick? I miss you. We all miss you. I visit Blinne on Sundays and tell her about you. How blue your eyes are and how black your hair. How you held me when I was scared and how you promised to come back for all of us.
    You have not forgotten us, have you? Eganthinks he remembers you, but he is not sure.
    Corey cries when I mention your name.
    Come soon, Mick.
    All our love,
Glenna        
    Mick felt the tears well in his eyes and wiped them away, feeling even more sorely the loss of his job at the inn. He had not earned much, but at least it was work. He rocked his arch over the comforting lump in his shoe. He hadn’t nearly enough to send for his brothers and sisters. And with all the farmers being forced off their land by the clearances, there were fewer and fewer jobs to be had by a boy like him.
    He had known full well the risk he was taking when he helped the unfortunate man at the inn. It was likely to delay his homecoming even longer. But he did not think Glenna would blame him for what he had done.
    Come soon, Mick
.
    Her plea brought a lump to his throat.
Oh, Glenna, I miss you all so much. I wish I could do more. I wish …
    Wishing was a waste of time. Mick shoved himself to his feet and dusted the hay from his clothes, determined to do something about his situation. He had walked for a little more than an hour after he had left Alex Wheaton, which had brought him into the town of Mishnish. He had gone from the tavern to the smithy to the cooper without finding work, and then had found himself a soft bed of hay at a farm within sight of town. Surely he could find work in Mishnish today.
    Blackthorne Hall is near Mishnish
.
    “Why not?” he said aloud. “There might be a job for me at such a grand estate. Or at least some scraps to be begged for at the kitchen door. And maybe that poor gentleman really is someone of note, and he’ll have found a friend there who’d be willing to help such as me.”
    Mick practiced a bow and said, “ ’Tis me, Laddie, come for my reward—a job, if ye please.” He grinned and shook his head. Mick O’Malley knew better than to believe in happily-ever-after endings. They only happened in fairy tales. But luck … Luck was something else altogether.
    Mick spotted a hen roosting in a corner of the barn and smiled. “Breakfast.” He reached beneath her soft breast into the warmth of the nest and stole an egg from under the hen without so much as ruffling her feathers. He made a tiny hole in the shell with a small knife he carried in his pocket, then sucked out the contents.
    It willna be long now, Glenna
, he thought as he sneaked out of the barn. He bathed his dirty face in sunshine as he headed down the rutted road toward Mishnish.
All I need is a bit of luck. And today … today I feel