The Pursuit of Mary McBride

Round nine opened with both fighters warily watching each other, but then Molloy regained the initiative by hitting Brian with a flurry of punches to his eyes. Blood was now pouring from the cuts on Brian's face. He could barely see, and Mary muffled a scream of frustration. She prayed for it to end soon, otherwise she might be a widow. Sean stood with his mouth open in awe while Bridget had tears in her eyes seeing what was happening to her father. When Molloy sent him to the ground again a hush fell over the crowd as they all hoped and prayed Brian could hold out for one more round to win his bet. At the count of eight, he staggered to his feet, but it was obvious he was beaten. His second worked on him vigorously as he tried to regain his senses. "I think you had better throw in the towel, mate. You've had enough," said the man. "What round is this?" asked Brian desperately, hardly able to see through his swollen eyes. "It's the ninth. The tenth is coming up. You have to stay on your feet for another round. If he knocks you out you've lost. Chuck it in now." "No," Brian gasped. "I'm finished if I don't make it." "It's your funeral," said the man sadly. The bell for the commencement of the tenth round went, and Brian staggered out, barely able to hold his hands up. Molloy hit him again in the face, and Brian clung to the man in a desperate effort to keep from going down. The referee separated them, and Molloy hit him again. Again Brian clung desperately. Molloy got careless and left his arms down, thinking Brian was finished. Brian swung and caught Molloy on the eyebrow, drawing blood as the flesh parted. The champion stepped back, trying to wipe it from his eyes, but Brian was unable to take the initiative. The round progressed. Brian's eyes were beginning to go glassy, and he could keep his hands up no longer. Molloy hit him with a left and then a right, but he too had lost most of his strength and stood back as Brian slid to the ground. The referee began to count, and Brian could dimly hear his voice as the count progressed. Four, five, six, he could hear, but it seemed so far away. He looked in front of him and could make out Mary through the bloody haze, her face covered in tears. When the count reached eight, he grabbed the rope and pulled himself off the ground. When the referee said nine, he found himself on his feet as the bell went for the end of the tenth round. "Christ, you made it mate," said his second. "I thought Bone Crusher had killed you." Brian collapsed on his stool, unable to raise his arms again. When the bell went for the commencement of the eleventh round, he staggered to the center of the ring like a hopeless drunk as Molloy stood there with his arm brought back. Brian now had no defense at all and waited for the final blow. Instead of smashing him to the ground, Molloy gently pushed him with both hands, and Brian staggered back and fell, unable to get up. He was counted out and the crowd cheered wildly. Never before had they seen such a contest. Brian woke to hear the announcer call, "The winner and still champion by a knockout in the eleventh round, Bone Crusher Molloy. But I'm pleased to say that Corcoran has won his bet, as well as the sum of fifty pounds." A loud round of applause rang out as hands carried Brian to the fighters' tent. When he opened his eyes he could just make out the distorted features of Mary washing his face with a wet sponge, the tears still running down her face. "Christ, you look awful," he said, trying to smile. "You've got red eyes." "Yours are black," she said. "That is, what I can see of them." His face was unrecognizable, his nose broken, his eyebrows cut, and his eyes almost closed. "I got the money, Mary, over one thousand pounds plus the prize money. I did it for you." "And you nearly got yourself killed. Don't ever do that again, Brian Corcoran." "You sound as though you care." "I just don't like seeing people hurt," she said, embarrassed. "Not even you. Can you get on your feet? I'll take you home." "Not until I've collected my money." He stood up, every muscle in his body aching. He was about to leave the tent supported by Mary when Bone Crusher walked in. "You've got guts, Corcoran. We could give you work in our troupe if you need it." "Thanks, but I think you've cured me of any such ambitions," Brian said. "If he even thinks about it then I'll give him a beating, too," Mary added. "Then good luck, Corcoran. You've got a good man there, lady," he said as they brushed past. Mary's cheeks reddened at his words. They collected the money, and she put her arm around him leading him back to the wagon. Sean carried the baby, his eyes staring at Brian, not believing what he had seen. Mary left Brian and paid the money to Grant, depositing the rest in the bank in Brian's name. She wondered if Campbell would have taken such punishment for her