Bruar's Rest

three feet in the air and came down in jaggy holly bushes. Megan raged for vengeance as she ran towards him. Claws unsheathed, she rammed stiff fingers into his face, ripping and gouging at his eyes. Blood spurted around his face. ‘I have you now, Buckley, your eyes. I’ll blind you and see how far you’ll travel without sight!’
    Sam had other ideas; swiftly turning Beth he leaned down and scooped her up. ‘Hang on, Megan, leave him to the police to catch.’ She clung tightly to him with her naked frame as Buckley rose from among the holly bushes, bleeding and raging and swearing vengeance.
    Back within the welcome safety of the farmhouse Sam didn’t spare a minute before wrapping Megan in coats and garments. She shook with cold, so he gathered her into his strong arms, desperately trying to bring some warmth and colour to her grey-white skin. But she’d been too long exposed to the freezing temperature without clothes. Her head lolled and eyes rolled, she was turning blue, there wasn’t a moment to lose. Inside his bedroom, the same one she had shared on Christmas Eve with Mother Foy, he put her into bed. She wasn’t responding, so he then took off his clothes and spent hours warming her frozen body. Once or twice he thought she’d died when no breath could be heard, but she’d sunk into a deep sleep and he didn’t give up. ‘I thought you were a goner,’ he said with obvious delight, on hearing her wake with deep sighs.
    In her weakened state Buckley still stood over her with a leering face of the wild cat. Her screams on feeling Sam’s naked body next to hers pierced the air. It took all his energy to explain things. ‘I didn’t know what to do—you were turning blue.’
    ‘You promised to come early, why were you not there when I needed you? He was ready to violate me over and over, then suck my brains out.’ She sat up and began to hit out. He put his arms round her warmed body and set her back down.
    ‘I couldn’t get away,’ he apologised, ‘and before you ask, did I fall asleep last night, the answer is no. I had a huge lot of jobs to do, tons of leathers, tack and brasses to polish. Now I’ll have to get some warm milk into you, Megan.’
    She wasn’t having that! Staring wide-eyed at the bedroom window, fully expecting the pig Buckley to burst in and start the nightmare over again, she begged Sam, ‘Don’t leave me—he’s watching somewhere out there. Please, Sam, stay here in the room. Get a gun or knife, but don’t go about without a weapon.’ When she told him about Mother Foy and how the poor lady met her end, he put a protective arm firmly round her shoulder and said, ‘His days are numbered. The Irish will be home today and the police are going to be told, I’ll make damn sure of that.’
    ‘They’ll not catch him. He’s afraid of nobody, he can escape from every ball and chain. Nothing, I tell you, will hold that beast.’
    ‘Listen to me, when the police trap him, it’s the jail for him and no one gets out of there. Now keep cosy while I fetch hot milk. I’ve got your skin warmed up, time now for your insides.’ Slipping another log onto the bedroom fire, he took her hand and said, reassuringly, ‘For a while there you’d given me a fright, with your pale face and lifeless body; thank God you’re all right. But there’s a few nasty bruises on your body. I’ll fill a tub. I’m sure a relaxing soak will ease the pain.’
    She held a crumpled pillow to her body and said, ‘I’ll never relax until I see his lifeless remains. But thank the heavens you had the good sense to use Beth against him today, or else you and I might both be smouldering on Mother Foy’s funeral pyre.’
    ‘He would have to fight me first. I’m not just a stable lad, you know.’
    Thinking back to the quarry and remembering the rolling head of Moses Durin, she said, ‘Bless you, Sam, but Buckley has no soul. I’m pretty sure he’s made of devil-skin with a lump of coal for a heart. Now, if you ever have the nightmare task of facing him, make sure there’s nothing wrong with your legs, because you’ll need them to run.’
    After a bath and some warm food, the confusion of the past events began to clear in her mind. She felt much better; perhaps not stronger, for strength had deserted her, but silently relieved that maybe one day she’d live to fight again.
    Later that afternoon, when the Irish came home, they were horrified to hear that their dear old friend had been