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Updated: June 8, 2025
But none of these things counted against the great fact that each evening Mary Cahill, the daughter of the post-trader, presided over the evening meal, and turned it into a banquet.
Brigadier-General McMillan, who commanded the second brigide at Cedar Creek; Colonel Thomas W. Cahill, 9th Connecticut; Lieutenant-Colonel Alfred Neafie of the 156th New York; Captain Charles McCarthy of the 175th New York; Lieutenant-Colonel Alex. J. Kenny of the 8th Indiana; Lieutenant Terrence Reilly of the Horse Artillery, all won distinction in the Shenandoah Valley.
As the gay procession drew nearer the boys began to evince some of the enthusiasm that they had known before they themselves had become a part of the big show. "Remember the parade two years ago, Phil?" asked Mrs. Cahill. "I could not very well forget it. That was a red letter day in my life, the day when I fell into the show business." "And that wasn't all you fell in either," added Teddy.
We'll tell 'em you're going to Fort Worth to buy the engagement ring, because I can't, being under arrest. But you go to Duncan City instead, and from there take the cars, to " "Run away!" Cahill repeated, dazedly. "But you'll be court- martialled." "There won't be any court-martial!" Cahill glanced around the room quickly. "I see," he cried. In his eagerness he was almost smiling.
Cinders extended a hoof, which Mrs. Cahill touched gingerly. She was not used to shaking hands with horses. Teddy and Phil, however, each grasped the pony's extended foot, giving it a good shake, after which Phil thrust a lump of sugar into the waiting lips of Cinders. "Naughty boy!" chided Little Dimples, tapping the neck of her mount with the little riding crop she carried.
"You would spoil him in no time. I must be going, now. I hope we shall see you at the show this afternoon, Mrs. Cahill," smiled Dimples, her face breaking out into dimples and smiles. The widow nodded. "This afternoon and tonight. She is going to dine with us under the cook tent this afternoon," Phil informed the rider. "That will be fine."
He turned to Mary Cahill and lifted one of her hands in both of his. "Well, I AM the conquering hero," he said. "I've won the only thing worth winning, dearest," he whispered; "we'll run away from them in a minute, and we'll ride to the waterfall and the Lover's Leap." He looked down at her wistfully. "Do you remember?" Mary Cahill raised her head and smiled. He leaned toward her breathlessly.
It's his son is talkin', Father Cahill, and it's his son WILL talk while there's breath in his body to keep his tongue waggin'. It's a precious legacy of hatred Michael O'Connell left his son, and there's no priest, no government, no policeman or soldier will kape that son from spendin' his legacy." The man trembled from head to foot with the nervous intensity of his attack.
Then his hand whipped back to his revolver, but before he could use it Ranson had seized his wrist with both hands. The two struggled silently and fiercely. The fact of opposition brought back to Cahill all of his great strength. "No, you don't!" Ranson muttered. "Think of your daughter, man. Drop it!" "I shall do it," Cahill panted. "I am thinking of my daughter. It's the only way out.
As they entered Mullinahone, the chapel bell was rung, and a crowd of some thousands collected. Mr. O'Brien addressed them with the same brevity and force as at Carrick-on-Suir, where his hopes were far brighter. The two clergymen, Rev. Mr. Corcoran and Rev. Mr. Cahill, appeared by his side, and openly resisted his advice. But, with the people, their influence totally failed.
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