Two days after Eamon's journey to Attymass, Eamon and Catriona sat eating breakfast. "Aunt Catriona," Eamon asked hesitantly, "have you ever considered buying a horse?"

Catriona frowned at her porridge. "Tá," she said after a moment. "I had one when I was first married, but..." She paused, eyes watering. "Your uncle needed a horse when he took part in the rebellion."

"Would you like another one?" Eamon's encounter with the highwaymen had put an idea into his head. I could be a highwayman, too. He knew that most highwaymen used horses, but horses were rare.

Catriona's eyes lit up, but she shook her head and spoke firmly. "Eamon, we have no need of a horse!"

"If we had one, it would be easier to get to Attymass for the markets." Eamon tried a face he hadn't used in years - a sorrowful countenance coupled with widened eyes and extended lower lip.

Catriona's lips twitched. "You're too old to be pulling that face," she chided. "Though it does look most becoming on you."

Eamon abandoned the attempt and returned his face to its normal position, except for his lower lip. "Does that mean you're set against a horse?"

"No..." Catriona pursed her lips. "I just know that a horse is too much money."

"I saved most of what I got in Attymass," Eamon forged ahead. "We've twenty-six...no, twenty-four pennies."

"Pennies!" Catriona laughed, resting her head on her arm. "Eamon, you'd be needing nearly that many shillings to buy a good horse."

No wonder we've never had a horse. "Oh." Eamon frowned at the table as if the action would cause his pennies to double.

Catriona surveyed Eamon's face gravely. "If you're set on getting a horse, we'll get you one." She rose and crossed the room, reaching under her bed for a wrapped bundle. "These are our family treasures, but they're not too dear to part with." Catriona's face showed sudden excitement as she unwrapped the bundle and began to set the contents on the table.

"Your father's dragon and your uncle's." Catriona set the two guns side by side and moved quickly on to the other contents of the bundle. Eamon's interest was piqued, however, and his eyes stayed on the pistols until Catriona spoke again.

"Your mother's ring and necklace." The ring was even simpler than the one Tadhg had bought. It was a plain, dark metal ring that was wider than most women's rings were. I should keep it so if I marry, I won't have to buy a ring. "And your father's ring." This ring was the same dark metal and smooth band as the other, but it was even wider.

Eamon slipped his father's ring on his finger. It fit well, the width covering nearly half of the first joint of his finger. "I can't be selling the rings," he said in a husky voice.

Catriona smiled proudly. "That's wise." She pushed a small pouch across the table to Eamon. "This is your father's money. I counted it, but it's been several years, so you should count it again." She held up the necklace, which was made of amber beads. The firelight glinted off the beads, turning them a rich honey color. "This could be sold - if you've a mind to sell it, that is," she said, stumbling over the words. "All of this is yours now, Eamon."

Eamon avoided his aunt's gaze, fumbling with the drawstring on the pouch. He dumped the coins on the table and began to count them. He was surprised to see some shillings in the pile and a hopeful feeling began to rise in his chest. "Twenty pennies...and three shillings. That makes...fifty-six pennies. Add that to my twenty-four pennies, and we have..." Eamon closed his eyes tightly while he worked out the numbers. "Eighty."

Catriona sighed in satisfaction. "Oh, it's quick you are with those numbers."

Eamon opened his eyes wide, mouth dropping open. "But..." He stammered. "I've forgotten to give you the money for the shawls!"

Catriona shook her head. "It's time you handled the money in this house. You're a man now, so I'm giving the care of the money to you." She rose and turned to the hearth, moving a stone in the fireplace and bringing back another pouch.

Eamon squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath after the revelation of the sudden responsibility. "Do...do you think I'm able to look after the money?"

"I'd not be giving you this if I didn't," Catriona replied, placing the pouch in Eamon's hand. "This is what I've saved over the years. You'll not have to count it; there's nine pounds, three shillings." She tilted his chin up and brushed his dark hair back from his forehead. "I trust you, Eamon," she said quietly.

Eamon couldn't meet Catriona's eyes. If she knew what I was planning...He swallowed, hoping she would attribute his sudden discomfort to the unexpected responsibility she had laid on him. "I'll...I'll not let you down, ántin." His eyes rested on the pistols. "Do you have powder and shot for those?"

Catriona's cheeks reddened and she smiled guiltily. "Tá," she said hesitantly. "I'd always secretly hoped to fire them one day."

"I'll learn, then I'll teach you," Eamon promised. This idea looks more and more promising as I go along. "What color are you wanting our horse to be?"

Catriona sighed. "My horse was chestnut, but you buy whatever you want."

"Chestnut," Eamon repeated. "I'll see what I can do." He glanced at his bowl of porridge on the table and wrinkled his nose. "Now my porridge will be cold," he lamented.

Catriona laughed. "I'll heat it up for you if you'll put away these things."

"Tá," Eamon agreed, rising from his seat. He tucked his mother's ring into his pocket and put the amber necklace with the money, then slipped the pistols and money pouches under his mattress. "I'll go out today to find a horse," he said aloud. "Soon you'll have the finest chestnut I can buy." And I'll have a horse and two guns.