In 1888, after eight years of waiting and planning, Matt Donahue is finally ready to flee Ireland’s oppression and journey to America. He has dreamed of having land of his own and a right to vote. But since the quota for Irish immigration has been filled, Matt must travel to Scotland in order to book passage to America.

On the trip, Matt meets a beautiful young woman named Annie Rice. They share a brief but unforgettable kiss, and as Marr starts his journey to America, he is unable to forget her. Once he arrives in New York City, he begins a correspondence with Annie; as he works his way from Pennsylvania to Ohio and, finally, to Minnesota, their love blossoms through the written word.

From an iron ore mine in Tower, Minnesota, Matt joins a gold rush to Rainy Lake City and eventually buys a parcel of land outside the small village of Koochiching, Minnesota. Finally with the new home to call his own, he returns to Ireland hoping Annie will marry him. But is she already married? Will she move to America against her mother’s wishes?

Based on atrue story and filled with vivid historical details, A Bit of Irish Gold beautifully captures the immigrant experience.

A BIT OF Irish Gold

A LOVE STORYBy PHYLLIS KARSNIA

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2013 Phyllis Karsnia
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-6996-2

Contents

Chapter 1 Starting a Journey................................3Chapter 2 Prayers in Armagh.................................8Chapter 3 Annie in Dungannon................................13Chapter 4 Sailing to America................................17Chapter 5 Arriving in America...............................21Chapter 6 New York City Dock Worker.........................25Chapter 7 Pennsylvania Coal Miner...........................31Chapter 8 Minnesota Coal Miner..............................34Chapter 9 Road to Gold......................................38Chapter 10 Rainy Lake City..................................42Chapter 11 The Homestead....................................49Chapter 12 Annie's Store....................................57Chapter 13 A Short Engagement...............................63Chapter 14 Letters in the Mail..............................66Chapter 15 A Surprise Visit.................................68Chapter 16 Finding Timmy....................................71Chapter 17 The Wedding......................................74Chapter 18 Goldville........................................79Chapter 19 Road to Gold.....................................85Chapter 20 Christmas Dolls..................................89Chapter 21 Tenth Anniversary................................93Chapter 22 Who took Kate?...................................95Chapter 23 Solving the Mystery..............................97Chapter 24 Life on the Farm.................................101Chapter 25 A Late Spring....................................106Chapter 26 Discussions on the Riverbank.....................111Chapter 27 The Doran Family.................................116Chapter 28 Fall Events......................................121Chapter 29 Minnesota State Fair.............................126Chapter 30 Mr. Regan's Hospitalization......................136Chapter 31 Appendicitis Attack..............................140Chapter 32 Mysterious Disappearance.........................146Chapter 33 A Bad Haircut....................................148Chapter 34 Easter Sunday....................................151Chapter 35 A Dark Easter Monday.............................156Chapter 36 Fourth of July...................................158Chapter 37 The Golf Pro.....................................164Chapter 38 Falls High School................................170Chapter 39 Romeo............................................177Chapter 40 Wedding Preparations.............................186Chapter 41 The Wedding......................................189Chapter 42 The Honeymoon....................................193Epilogue....................................................197Bibliography and Resources..................................201

Chapter One

Starting a Journey

1888

"VISAS." The word exploded through the window. Matt stopped abruptly, hesitating for only a second before pushing open the door. He'd dreamed of going to America for many years and maybe that tattered sign in the window was a wee bit of luck. He swallowed hard for courage but his voice squeaked when he blurted out, "I'd like a visa for America."

Busy writing, the clerk didn't look up. "Quota's filled."

"Quota?" The word sounded threatening.

"No more visas. Immigration's closed. Irish have been fleeing Ireland like flies and the immigration quota's filled."

Closed. Filled. Eight years of yearning ... My dream destroyed ... Matt's legs felt as wobbly as a newborn colt's and he grabbed the counter for support. I've waited too long! Glancing up, the clerk saw Matt's dazed look. A wave of compassion compelled him to put down his pencil. Leaning back in his chair he said, "Visas are still available in Scotland. Go to Glasgow—ships sail to America from Glasgow."

The workhorses plodded home without guidance from Matt. The reins hung loosely in his hands as he slouched on the wagon seat, frowning in thought. Matt had been surprised that morning when Kelly, the manager of the O'Brian estate, told Matt to go to town for supplies all alone. Matt had never gone without Da.' I wonder if Kelly suspects Da' spends his time in the pub while I do the work. After he loaded supplies on the wagon, Matt couldn't resist enjoying a bit of freedom before returning to the estate. This is my first opportunity to explore the town. Sure, and 'twas luck took me to that sign in the window. Such a small town, but I've never walked in front of that store before. That's what little freedom I have.

Anger bubbled up as he thought about what little control he had of his life. I cannot steal a horse. Kelly would catch me and string me up alive. Should I wait for the quota to be reopened? But when would that be? Between clenched teeth he vowed to himself, I'll not let go of my dream. 'Tis to Glasgow I'll go. I'll go to Belfast and take the ferry across the Irish Sea to Scotland. The horses twitched their ears as he stood on the wagon and shouted to them: "I can do it! I'm going to America!" Matt's brow was still creased from concentration as he settled his team in their stalls.

In the morning while currying the horses, Matt told his brother Timmy what he'd found out. "'Tis time for me to go. I'm eighteen."

Matt's older brother Patrick left the day their Da' up and married sixteen-year-old Betty Walsh four months after his wife, Marie, died in childbirth. Betty, the daughter of a shoveler in the barns, had been hired to care for newborn Timmy. Shovelers received fewer wages than horse handlers; the Walsh family lived in squalor amidst the cluster of hovels huddled outside the imposing stone fence enclosing the estate. Betty, appreciative of improving her pitiful existence, cared for Timmy tenderly.

Patrick and Matt had been devastated at their mother's death, but when Da' began drinking afterward, their pain at losing her was compounded. Matt still longed for the tiny woman who had brought so much cheer into their lives. As one of the cooks at the mansion, she fed them tidbits of gossip and leftover food. She soothed her husband during his black Irish moods and outbursts of temper.

When Da' and Betty drunkenly announced their marriage and Patrick took off, ten-year-old Matt felt an ache deep in his heart. To console himself, Matt vowed to leave as soon as he turned fifteen. Meanwhile, Betty's interest in Timmy decreased as her pregnancy progressed, and Matt became Timmy's surrogate mother.

Five years later, Timmy's position was replaced by two younger brothers, Terry and Michael. Young Betty not only neglected Timmy, but her own babies. Matt did what he could for all the wee ones. Furious with Da' for drinking up his meager wages but worried about the family's welfare, Matt postponed his dream.

Ironically, it was Thomas who triggered Matt's hasty departure. A few days following Matt's trip to Donaghmore, Thomas came home from the pub drunker and meaner than usual. His sons all cowered out of his way, but he still managed to smack each one. When he turned on Betty, Matt rushed in and shoved his Da' down on the bed. Standing with clenched fists, Matt watched as his father struggled a few seconds before falling back into a drunken slumber.

Matt stood motionless, grieving at how his mother's death had changed their lives, and then fled to his cot in the corner of the room. Gathering up the few clothes he owned, he ran out the door and into the woodshed to dig up the scant savings he had buried. At the last minute he snatched up an old horse blanket tossed in a corner.

From out of the darkness, he heard Timmy's soft whisper: "'Bye, Matt!"

Matt turned to his younger brother, who had followed him out. Timmy held out a loaf of oat bread. "I grabbed this off the table, Matt. You'll need food."

Matt hugged the boy. "I hate to leave you, Timmy, but I have to get away before I kill our Da'"

Timmy held on to Matt, squeezing hard, his wet face buried into his older brother's chest. Matt choked on his own tears. Knowing this day had been coming, Timmy managed to whisper, "Good luck, Matt. I'll miss you."

Matt ruffled the boy's hair, kissed him on the forehead, then turned and quickly left before he changed his mind.

Timmy had been Matt's shadow since he could toddle, following Matt around as he took care of the horses and sheep on the prosperous estate. As he worked, Matt would grumble to Timmy about conditions in Ireland. "Since 1690 Catholics in Ireland have suffered from British occupation. Now it's 1888 and Protestant landowners still live in castles while the Irish die in poverty." Matt had given up hope that Irish rights would ever be restored. Every year his family became poorer. "I've heard that in America, anybody can own land. America. That's where I'll be going. 'Twill never happen here, not at all."

Although he didn't grasp everything Matt was saying, Timmy had understood that he intended to leave Ireland. When Matt's raging stopped, Timmy would plead, "Don't go yet, Matt. Please." And Matt would soften, temporarily setting aside thought of America.

But this was it! Matt, teeth clenched in fury, hardened his heart and hurled himself away from his brother. As he walked past the estate, the outline of the castle owned by the O'Brian family loomed in the distance, barely visible in the fading evening light. The crude cottage where Matt and his family lived was placed behind the barns so the thatched roof couldn't be seen from the mansion. The sight would have ruined the pastoral scene viewed from the windows of the castle. A river, swirling its way from the Irish Sea, zigzagged across the emerald green lawns like a snake.

Sheep kept the grass eaten down so the fields were a perfect length of green for the polo field. Polo was a passion of the O'Brians and their friends. The players whacked at balls from the back of the horses, but mistreated the animals after their game was ended. Matt began sharing his Da's responsibility for the horses at an early age. These days, Da' spent most of his day in the pub while Matt cared for the horses as though they belonged to him. He found it increasingly difficult to hold his temper when he saw the horses treated badly.

Walking down the dark path in front of the castle, Matt vowed out loud, "You'll see. Someday I'll own land in America." At the edge of the property he turned for a last look. Shaking his fist, he spat, "I'll never be back!"

As familiar territory disappeared, Matt experienced mixed feelings. One minute he was jubilant because he was finally leaving, the next gripped with fear of the unknown. Worry about his brothers was a heavy black cloud of guilt that almost made him turn back. Propelled on by his dream, Matt told himself, 'Tis glad I am the fight with Da' forced me into going.

His courage declined as the distance widened between him and the estate. He'd never been past Donaghmore and, unsure of the way, his steps slowed. To keep from turning back, he recited his reasons for leaving: I've been helping Da' since I was a wee lad. Now, I do the work of two men while Da' sneaks off to the pub and then staggers home meaner every day, yelling and cuffing at all of us. Maybe he'll stop drinking without me there. He won't change while I'm doing his job. Conditions in Ireland will never change, either. Would I ever own a scrap of land? Do I want to slave for bloody O'Brians the rest of my life?

Convinced that life in America would be better, Matt walked faster.

Chapter Two

Prayers in Armagh

1888

The moon lit Matt's way for hours before he fell down exhausted in a grove of trees. Wrapped in the horse blanket and using his knapsack for a pillow, he allowed himself only a few hours of sleep before setting out again at dawn. Matt checked his directions with the rising sun, fearful of not heading north. He walked past miles of rolling green pastures with grazing livestock inside stone fences. An occasional farmer waved in the distance, temporarily relieving feelings of terrible loneliness.

At dusk Matt hid in the woods close to a small cottage. Shivering in the damp night air as he waited for the lantern light to be snuffed out, he was glad winter was over, although May weather still could be fickle with its bone-chilling dampness. The cottage finally went dark.

Not sure of what animals he'd find inside the barn, he carefully pushed open the door of the small stone structure huddled next to the cottage. Two cows turned their heads to stare at him. Hoping the cows wouldn't moo and wake the farmer, he stood quietly until they turned away indifferently. The familiar smells of hay and manure comforted him as he hunkered down with his horse blanket on stacks of hay. Scratching absent-mindedly, he thought, I'm glad I rescued this old horse blanket when Kelly threw it away. Physically and emotionally exhausted, he was instantly sound asleep.

When the cows began stirring before daylight, Matt jumped up, anxious to leave before the farmer found him. "First, I'll have a wee bit of that milk," he said to one of the cows. Snatching his cap off, he directed the stream of milk into its brim. Although the cow swished her tail, she allowed Matt to milk her and he patted her flank to thank her. But he couldn't waste time and, feeling revived from the warm nourishing milk, Matt set off at a good pace.

Trudging steadily, Matt covered many miles. By mid-morning the drizzle had turned into a heavy rain. Besides getting soaked, he was becoming confused about directions. Crossing over a long rolling hill, he suddenly saw a flock of sheep with a man herding them from behind. Matt shouted, "Hello! Hello!"

The farmer turned around with a startled look on his face. Then he gave him a wave and stood waiting. Panting from running, Matt said, "'Tis glad I am to see you. I'm on my way to Belfast. Can you tell me if I'm going north?"

"Sure, and you are. 'Twas a start you gave me, appearing out of nowhere. Thought I was seeing a ghost. Not many people walk these hills. Where did you come from? But I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Sean Cullen."

"Matt Donahue. I came from Donaghmore, County Louth. This is my third day of walking and I've not talked to another soul. You're the first person I've seen today."

While they talked, Sean ushered his sheep through a gate in a short stone fence. He slammed the gate shut and looked at Matt again. "You look cold and wet. It's a hot cup of tea you need. My wife, Clare, will be happy for the company. C'mon."

Sean's plump wife was as cheerful as the painted red door of their cottage. She made Matt sit in front of the fireplace to warm up while the water boiled in the kettle. Taking scones out of the oven, she put them on a plate and beckoned him over to the table. The tantalizing smell had his stomach growling. "Thanks, Mrs. Cullen," Matt said as she poured hot steaming tea for him.

"Call me Clare," she said as she sank into another chair.

"And you're off to Belfast?" Sean asked as they waited for the tea to cool.

"I'm going to Belfast to catch the ferry to Scotland. I'm sailing to America."

They exclaimed over the great adventure Matt had ahead of him. Sean asked, "Do you have family there?"

"No. Nobody. I've wanted to go for a long time." Matt paused before adding, "I want to own my own land."

"Aren't you the brave lad! Most people have somebody sending for them and waiting for them when they arrive." The friendly farmer insisted on giving him a ride to Monaghan. He looked out at the rain running down the window. "'Tis a soft day, a good day to go to town for supplies. Clare has a long list for me."

Sean went outside to hitch up the wagon. As Clare poured more tea for Matt she said, "Sure, and 'tis no trouble for Sean to take you, not at all. Won't he be enjoying a pint of Guinness at his favorite pub?" The hot tea warmed Matt's belly, but the Cullens' hospitality warmed his heart.

The ride gave his aching body a rest after walking over hills all day. Sean told him, "This is the Cooley Peninsula area, a good pastureland for the sheep. I've lived here all my life; I was born here, and my father before me." As the sun peeked out Matt admired the lush rolling green hills glistening with raindrops.

Sean questioned Matt more about what his plans were when he arrived in America. "My own brother sailed away two years ago, but we've not heard from the buggar at all, not at all. When he left, he promised to send money for us to join him."

"I have no plans yet. First I have to get work on a freight ship to pay for my passage."

"What does your poor mother think about your leaving?"

"My mother died when I was ten. When Da' remarried, my older brother left home. He's disappeared these eight years without a word. I promised myself I'd leave when I was fifteen just like he did. Da' started drinking and I stayed to help with the babies that started coming. I took care of the horses on the O'Brian estate, doing my Da's work and mine too. 'Tis past time I leave."

"They say America is a wonderful place. Filled with opportunities. I think you'll do well."

Matt asked, "How far is it to Dungannon? I have an aunt in Dungannon but I don't know her name because she's married since she left Donaghmore. 'Twould be good to see her before I leave."

"Dungannon is about a day's walk, but 'twill take you out of your way for Belfast. You would go through Armagh and then to Dungannon. But toward the sea is a faster route for Belfast."

In the center of Monaghan, Sean dropped Matt off at a large drinking fountain with an ornate canopy supported by marble columns. "Good-bye and good luck to you, lad. I hope you find your land at journey's end."

"Thanks to you and your wife for being so generous to me." Matt waved good-bye as the horses clip clopped over the cobble-stoned street.

While taking a long drink of water from the fountain, Matt made up his mind to ignore the shorter route to Belfast. With Armagh only an afternoon's walk away, how can I leave Ireland without paying my respects to St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland? Can I leave Ireland without saying good-bye to my kind Aunt Kate? Sure, and St. Patrick himself and my aunt would both put the curse on me.

The food and rest spurred Matt on for a few more hours. At dusk he entered the town of Armagh. Wandering the streets in awe, he told himself, I can't believe I'm in the most famous city in Ireland. Sure, and 'twas the year 432 when St. Patrick sailed to Armagh. Matt remembered his history lessons from Father Finnerty very well. He hadn't been allowed to go back to school after his mother died, but like most Irishmen he loved learning. Marie wanted her sons educated, but after Patrick left, his father expected Matt to replace his brother in the barn and his mother at home. His schooling was over.

St. Patrick's Cathedral guarded the town from a high hill. Looking up at it, he crossed himself. The cathedral honoring the Patron of Ireland will keep me safe, Matt assured himself as he ran up the steep path.

Parishioners streamed out of the huge church. Matt hid in the shadows until it was safe to slip through the door unnoticed. Father Finnerty had visited the cathedral and told Matt about a room with hats of Cardinals dangling from the ceiling. Matt remembered him saying, "When a Cardinal's soul goes to heaven, his hat falls down." Sure, and I'll be safer yet in a room filled with Cardinals' hats and souls.

Matt tiptoed down the side aisle until he found the small room with dangling hats. The room smelled musty but a padded bench under the hats provided him with a bed. Lying there, Matt thought about Father Finnerty, a squarely-built man who seemed to know everything. Before Father Finnerty arrived, the tenants' children had been taught in ditches and hedges by outlaw priests and other itinerants traveling through small hamlets. Education had been erratic, lasting only as long as the travelers stayed, whether for a few days or a few weeks.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from A BIT OF Irish Goldby PHYLLIS KARSNIA Copyright © 2013 by Phyllis Karsnia. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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