Fiachra o' Malley

• Doesn’t speak much, though does speak if he has to.
• Fiachra tends to hang out with the horses, more than he would with the other Posse members. 
• Treats them like they are his siblings, and not horses- aka with the most respect.
• Likes his hair long but tied up.
• Plays the fiddle, hums Irish songs.
• Acts tough, but is a very worrisome person. Cares for the entire posse, even if he doesn’t say it or show it.-
• Cares deeply for children, and will do what he can to protect them, even if he doesn’t know them. They all remind him of his siblings who passed away.
• Has anxiety attacks on boats, so avoids them. Named his horse Steamboat, that, because he oddly likes the sounds of Steamboats. 
• Is home sick of Ireland, but loves the Freedom of the US.
• Loves all animals, especially horses but also birds, reptiles and dogs. His favourite ‘American’ animal is the Coyote.
• Loves to fish- but is awful at it.
• Ded’s death affected him greatly.
• Strangers make him anxious, not paranoid, but extremely distrusting. 
• Would definitely be diagnosed with ADHD if he was in the modern world.
• Would have been diagnosed with Dyslexia as well.

Born in 1875, Fiachra was the second born son to Saoirse and Padraig o’ Malley. But his older brother, only lived a few minutes. Thus, he was considered the eldest. His childhood, while malnourished by no fault of his parents, it was happy and carefree. Ireland being still under the reign of the english state was something apparent in his life.

His parents were simple farmers, they had cattle, sheep and pig. Their main export was the crops, like grains, potatoes and corn. But most of the food they produced, was taxed and set abroad by their English landlords. His parents would hide some crop for them, so that they would eat more than just potatoes and the occasional chicken. But this was caught, and his family were given mere three days to leave the farm unless they wanted to face imprisonment for thief. 

His father had long saw this happening, and saved enough by putting coin away each month for a few years to afford the price tag to be smuggled across the US. But what he hadn’t seen, was how sick people did get on the boats that the irish were smuggled on. Sickness spread like wildfire, and soon most of his family was sick. Baby Grainne was the first to die, followed by Ann and Mary and soon their mother perished. There was no clean water, no toilets just buckets. Food was scarce and soon Peter, Tommy and John died along with their father from starvation and sickness. Having already been partly starved before getting on the boat.

Once the boat finally docked three months later, Fiachra was alone. Only 16 at the time, with no school documents, no documents of his own or any money to his name the young Irishman was lost.  To both the system and himself.Being Irish meant he was barred from places, and even refused to be hired. But his luck changed, when he noticed a young woman who seemed lost in the countryside. At first, she was hesitant to trust him- due to how thin, gauntly ill he looked and how scruffed up and dirty his appearance was. But he brought her to the train station that she sought. Her father was a farmer, and took pity on the young Fiachra once he started to tell them how he had ended up penniless and starving. The girl, whom he learned was called Jenny and the father was called Alexander brought him along on the wagon, sitting in the back with the things Alexander had bought from the shops. Fiachra had to stop himself from stealing food, the temptation too high Fiachra had his first, hot bath for the first time ever- never having hot water even in Ireland unless it was boiled for soups, or to make milk hot. Having his first hot meal in over 6 months, it caused Fiachra to weep. Reminding him far too much of home and his lost family. He was given an unused stable, being no room in the home for him but he was more than thankful. He was given a make-shift bed, with a mattress and blanket for warmth and comfort. Given somewhere with a roof over and a job, made him feel human again. 

For the next few weeks, he happily mucked out stalls, cleaned barn and fed the animals. It wasn’t until a fateful day, that he would be  in the presence of his best friend. He was given the job of going to the local town for a supply run, Jenny tagging along but more so to see her friends in town. The supply run went well, stocking up on needed cans and other items. Heading back, alone this time as Jenny stayed at a friends, giving a letter to Fiachra to give to her father. That was when he saw him. 

Ded.

Being beaten by his owner, for being slow and ‘useless’. The poor Kentucky Saddler looked half starved, whipped and scruffed up. This caused the young Fiachra to stop the wagon, leap down and head towards the man. He had his wages on him, he always kept them on him wanting new clothes but for some reason decided against it. The man asked for 400$, he only had 300. But the man took the 300$ anyway, taking his saddle and bridle with him as he walked off. Was the beaten scrawny mess worth 300$? 

No. But Fiachra couldn’t have left him like that. 

He used old twine, and rope, to make a make-shift halter and lead. Attaching the lead to the wagon so the horse could walk alongside the wagon. Alexander was amused more than shocked. But also concerned for the horse once he realised how bad a state the animal was in. 

‘’I won’t lie boy, this horse looks like it will die any day with or without proper care. It’s so malnourished, has sores from where it was being ridden and not cleaned- ridden while malnourished and starved. Sores from being kicked, it’s hooves are overgrown. Don’t get attached to him, I give him a week best.’’

But, Fiachra wouldn’t just give up on him. Naming him Ded, basically dead, Fiachra started to trim his hooves, which took over an hour due to how sore his feet were. But he was patient with the horse, who couldn’t have been older than four. The young stallion was weary, but trusting of Fiachra, as he hand fed him some oats. He put him out in one of the fields, feeding him every morning - twice a day for that week. Alexander then gave Fiachra permission to put him in a stall, after he survived the week had given him. But also impressed by how caring the young man was for the horse.

Over that summer, the stallions spirit seemed to healing as he gained weight back fast under Fiachra’s watchful gaze. 

But it was trials of error, and failure when it came to saddling and bridling the horse. Ded, understandably refused to standstill or keep the saddle on his back. Fearful of the saddle.

So Ded rode him bareback, gaining his trust from the ground and on his back without a saddle or bridle. Soon gaining his trust enough to put a bridle on, the young KS played with the bit nervously but overtime fondly. 8 months later, he was able to saddle him for the first time. Now aged 17, closing in on his 18th birthday Fiachra left the farm. Thankful for the kindness Alexander and his daughter had shown him, but wanted freedom having wanderlust in his system.

Fiachra and Ded journeyed alone, often chased by gangs who wanted to steal from him or to just rough him up. Years together, developed a strong bond, considering the horse as a brother than just his horse. At age 24, he met Colt Valdez and his Posse, who consisted of Iona Kerr - his right hand woman and Alden Greenwood- an Englishman. This was something of disgust for Fiachra, still being rather republican towards the English as an Irish man. But overtime, it would be more of a joke than actual hate

Soon after, he joined Colt’s Posse, The Scarlet Colts