Walk the Blue Fields by Claire Keegan Page B

Martha says.
    She throws what’s left of the barley on the ground and goes inside to strain the potatoes.
    While the Deegans eat, Judge explores the yard. No doubt the place is fine. There’s a milking parlour whose steel throws back his reflection, an empty henhouse with one late egg, and a barn full of hay. He walks down the lane, urinates high on the trunks of the oak trees, shits, and kicks up the fallen leaves. His urge to roll in the cow-dung is almost irresistible but this is the type of house where they might let a dog sleep inside. He stands a long timewatching the smoke, considering his circumstances. O’Donnell will be out looking for him. Judge picks up a sod of turf and carries it into the house. The Deegans, who are eating in silence, watch him. He drops the sod in the basket at the hearth and, before they can say a word, goes out for more. He does not stop until the basket is full. The Deegans laugh.
    â€˜You’d have to see it to believe it,’ says Deegan.
    â€˜Where did you find him anyhow?’ says Martha.
    Deegan looks at her and shakes his head. ‘Find him? I bought him off one of the forestry lads.’
    The girl gives Judge a slice of birthday cake and mashes butter into the leftover potatoes, feeds him on the doorstep.
    While they are down the yard, milking, Martha comes out. The evening is fine. In the sky a few early stars are shining of their own accord. She watches the dog licking the bowl clean. This dog will break her daughter’s heart, she’s sure of it. Her desire to chase him off is stronger than any emotion she has felt of late. Tomorrow, while the girl is in school, she’ll get rid of him. She will take him up the wood, throw stones, and tell him to get home. The retriever licks his lips and stares at Martha, grateful. He puts his paw up on her knee. Martha looks at him and fills his bowl with milk. That night, before she goes to bed, she finds an old eiderdown and makes a bed under the table so nobody can walk on his tail.
    Judge lies in his new bed, rolls onto his back and stares at the drawers under the table. This is a different sort of house but Deegan will sell him just as soon as he finds the opportunity. The woman he understands: she is just the protective bitch minding her pup. The eldest fellow keeps to himself. The middle boy’s scent is unlike any he hasever encountered. It is something close to ragweed, closer to plant than animal like the roots you’d bury something under. Judge, being wary in this strange place, fights sleep for as long as he is able but the kitchen’s darkness and the fire’s heat are unlike any comforts he has ever known and his will to stay awake soon fades. In sleep he dreams again of finding milk on the second teat. His mother was champion retriever at the Tinahely Show. She used to lick him clean, carry him through streams, proud that he was hers.
    The next morning the simpleton, who sleeps odd hours, is the first to rise. Judge wakes, stretches himself and follows the boy out to the shed. They carry withered sticks in and the boy, knowing Judge expects it, does his best to light the fire. He arranges the sticks on yesterday’s ashes and blows on them. He blows until the ash turns their faces grey. When the girl comes down she does not laugh at her brother; she simply kneels and, in her teacher’s voice, shows him how it’s done. She twists what’s left of Sunday’s newspaper, cocks the withered timber, and strikes a match. The boy watches and is intrigued. The strange blue flame grows bigger, changes and, at a certain point, turns into fire. Something about it makes him happy, makes him wonder. He has a capacity for wonder, sees great significance in common things others dismiss simply because they happen every day.
    When Martha comes down, the door is wide open and there is no sign of the dog. She had hoped, the night before, that he would somehow run away. A cold wind is