The Fourth Life of Sean Donoghue - Trish Hanan (easy novels to read .TXT) 📗

to do was scare you and teach you a lesson; but dropping dead is good too,” Sean told the body. He climbed the stairs and sneaked out the way he came. Then he waited outside the tavern. If he knew Ted Stevens the man would be celebrating his victory tonight by getting drunk in Jefferies and that was one man he didn’t intend to scare, he was going to kill this one. This one had lifted his rifle, the one that Sean had been nice enough to give him, taken aim and shot him in cold blood, just like he was a deer or a squirrel. He deserved to die and from what he had heard from the priest the man was a wife beater, Sean was actually doing her a favor. No doubt she’d be relieved when he was gone.
Sean waited for over an hour but Jefferies finally closed and the drunks staggered out. The good decent men had already gone home to their wives and children. He watched and saw who they were, there were quite a few he wouldn’t have believed if hadn’t he seen it with his own eyes. Ted Stevens was one of the last.
“Go home, Ted, you’re drunk,” Stan shoved him out of the door and Ted staggered into the middle of the road. The other men laughed.
“Hey, Ted, you’re drunk,” Bob Early retorted. Ted snickered.
“So what, so are you,” he sassed back. All the men laughed again. Ted went around to the side of the building and everyone could see he was taking a piss. This made them all laugh again and Sean wondered how Stan could put up with them. If this was the price of being a barkeep, he never wanted to own a tavern, that’s for sure.
Finally everyone had staggered off and only Ted was left, he was half sleeping, leaning against the building, He didn’t even notice Sean approach until he was grabbed, turned around and shoved back against the building, a hand over his mouth so he couldn’t talk. His eyes widened with shock when they saw it was Sean, a Sean with a bandage around his head. He began to struggle but Sean hit him in his stomach and he went limp.
“Hello, Teddy, I guess you’re as surprised to see me as your friend Father Zucker was,” Sean spoke pleasantly. Ted gagged and made vomiting noises so Sean let go of him and let him throw up on the grass. When he was through he grabbed him and shoved him back against the building and held him by his neck.
“But you can’t be, you’re dead,” Ted stammered. Sean shook his head.
“I’ve been getting that a lot today,” he remarked. “And you killed me you son-of-a-bitch with the rifle I was nice enough to give you for a fucking field of barley, talk about gratitude, you rotten bastard.” Ted’s eyes got wide.
“How can you be alive, I killed you, I know I did,” he said weakly. Sean nodded.
“And I was for a minute or two or maybe a few hours, but then I came back,” he informed him then with a quick flick of his hand, he snapped his neck and dropped the body on the ground. He had been planning on tormenting the stupid bastard before killing him but he was bored with him already. So Sean put him on his horse, put his feet in the stirrups and smacked the horse on its arse and sent it off up the trail. If he was lucky it would run into a tree, if not then everyone would assume that Ted had gotten drunk, fallen off his horse and broken his neck.
Sean walked home by the back trail of course so no one would see him and crawled into bed. Getting killed and coming back to life made for a hard day, he was exhausted.

Chapter Two - Dead and Back Again

“Sean, Sean wake up,” Ryan’s loud voice woke him up in the morning. Sean sat up and looked at him like he was crazy. Ryan shrugged.
“You’re still in bed and its after six, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” he told him. Sean threw a pillow at him. Ryan laughed, caught the pillow and threw it back.
“Get out of bed, you lazy arse, it’s time for breakfast,” he said and walked out. Sean groaned and lied back down.
“Even getting dead and I can’t laze in bed around here,” he muttered and got up.
He was out in the field doing some weeding when Young Sean came racing out with the news.
“Hey, Granddad, did you hear the news?” he asked, practically jumping out of his skin with excitement. Sean grinned at him.
“No, I can’t say that I have, lad, what’s the news?” he asked him. Young Sean grinned. He loved being first with anything.
“Old Ted Stevens got drunk and fell off his horse down by the bend in the river, broke his neck and drowned,” he told him. Sean lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, that will teach him a lesson not to get drunk and ride at the same time,” he informed his great-great-grandson. Young Sean gave a great big laugh.
“That’s funny, but that’s not the best news,” he announced. Sean grinned down at him.
“There’s more news,” he asked. Young Sean nodded.
“Father Zucker died of a heart attack in the basement of his Church last night and everyone who saw the body said it looked like he’d seen a ghost or a demon or something, he looked so scared,” he exclaimed and was dancing around. Sean laughed.
“That’s what you get when you talk about Satan and burning people at the stake all the time, you get nightmares,” he told him and Young Sean nodded. Then he ran off to tell the old folks.
Sean continued his work in the fields, only seven people, the ones who knew what the two evildoers had done would figure out what he had done and they would probably want to give him a medal so he had nothing to worry about and he certainly didn’t feel guilty about it.
Reverend Andrews said a nice service for Father Zucker and all of the people started coming to the Freedom Church until the St. Charles Church sent another priest. Then there was a mysterious fire and the St. Charles Church burned down. Sean insisted he didn’t start it and he didn’t. But they never rebuilt it and every one was happy with the Freedom Church so no one minded. A few people came from the other Ridges to hear Reverend Andrews preach and soon Freedom Churches were popping out on all the Ridges. Sean had started a movement and the Hamish didn’t approve. His name went on a list of agitators.
Fall came and it was harvest time. Everyone worked long hours and when it was over they all gathered in Jefferies to relax. Sean was sitting at a table with his grandsons when the door opened and Todd Donoghue came rushing in.
“Soldiers, a dozen of them and a Major riding up Main Street,” he announced and everyone looked worried. Sean looked at Ryan and sighed. Soldiers on the Ridge were never a good sign. And if a Major was with them; that wasn’t a good sign either, Majors rarely left Portsmyth unless they planned on arresting someone. Otherwise they sent a sergeant or a lieutenant. Suddenly the door to Jefferies slammed open and the Major followed by ten soldiers, one of them a sergeant stomped in, in their arrogant, look at me, I’m an important Hamish soldier, you’d better beware, manner. The sergeants were always the worse. This one was the usual; his eyes scanned the men sitting at the bar and around tables like they were common criminals.
“I’m looking for Sean Donoghue, we were told that he was up here, where is he?” the sergeant barked and most of the men sighed with relief. Two men stood up. One was taller than the other, both with brown hair and dark, green eyes and they kind of looked alike.
“Well, which one of you is Sean Donoghue?” the sergeant asked rudely. Sean lifted his eyebrow and glanced over at his great-great-grandson.
“We’re both Sean Donoghue, Sergeant, perhaps you could be more specific in your questions about which Sean Donoghue you wish to speak with, we could be of more help,” Sean informed him politely and some of the men in the tavern laughed. The sergeant flushed.
“Oh, a real smart ass, are you?” he sneered. The Major cleared his throat.
“We’re looking for the Sean Donoghue whose been selling the rifles all over the Ridges,” he informed them in a bored haughty tone and using his hankie, wiped his nose. Some of the men wiped their noses on the sleeves of their shirts to make fun of him. He frowned at them, not getting it, but disliking their rude behavior. Sean glanced at his grandson.
“Sit down, lad, they’re looking for me,” he told him and the lad nodded, but Sean noticed he kept his rifle in plain view. In fact all the rifles his relatives had been carrying; were in plain sight, it did a man good to see it. Sean walked a couple of steps closer to the Major.
“And what can I do for the Hamish today, Major?” Sean asked politely. The Major tried to look down his nose at him but failed because Sean was at least three inches taller. The Major had to be satisfied with appearing superior.
“I’m Major Steinbeck and I was looking over my invoices the other day when it occurred to me that I had found not a single one with your name of it indicating that you had paid a single gilder in tax for any of those rifles that you’ve been selling up and down the Ridges,” he stated and then asked, “Just how many rifles did you buy and who did you buy them from Mr. Donoghue?” Sean nodded.
“I purchased three hundred rifles from Captain Gaston of the Ennis ship the Mermaid in the spring of sixteen ninety-six when my grandfather and I just arrived from Topanga,” Sean informed the Major liking the way the Hamish Army officer’s eyes flared up when he said Topanga. Behind him he could hear Ryan’s soft chuckle and he knew his grandson knew why he did it.
“So you admit you bought the rifles, Mr. Donoghue?” the Major said smugly. Sean nodded.
“Of course, how could I sell rifles if I never bought rifles, that would be impossible,” he informed him and a few men laughed.