[5 Prompts][25 Fluffy Fics][Hetalia OC] "Beneath the Open Sky" Ireland
Title: "Beneath the Open Sky"
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: America/Ireland (OC)
Prompt: Table G2, # 1 We're living in desperate times @ 5_prompts, 21. Sunset @ 25FluffyFics, 32. Sunset @ fanfic100
Words: 2,711
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Original Character, since Himaruya-sensei has not yet graced us with an Ireland. Slight liberty taken with history, or rather one historic fact in particular. This was a plot bunny explosion that came out of my brain today. Actually it had been stewing for a while due to an online discussion about 19th Century immigration. In a Hetalia sense I wondered how another nation would feel as their people flooded into America.
Summary: Ireland comes to visit America as her people flee her shores for a better life in the land of the free. She didn't realize how taken she would be with the young blue eyed nation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
In 1890, New York had twice as many Irish as Dublin...
Ireland took a deep breath as she stepped off the ship in New York. The city was thriving, there were now more of her people living here than in Dublin. She corrected herself, they were America’s people now. She scanned the crowds looking at the faces of America’s people. Some of them seemed welcoming to the new wave of immigrants, some seemed downright hostile. She could understand both opinions. Some of them were seeing family again, others were seeing invaders on their land. Invasion was something she understood better than she cared to.
Ireland knew that America would sense her, it was a sixth sense that they had. A nation always knew when another crossed his or her border. She wondered what he was really like, the young nation that had once been the center of England’s attention. Ireland had heard many stories over the years, most of them second hand through Wales or Scotland. She had not been on the best of terms with England in his early days of colonization. A century and a half ago America had been England’s pride and joy. In the decades following the American Revolution and the War of 1812 it seemed he was the bane of the older nations existence. Scotland had met the child once. He had traveled to the America’s briefly in the mid 18th century to check on the Scotch-Irish immigrants. He had spoken highly of the child when he returned. Ireland wondered if she would recognize America when she saw him. She vaguely knew what he looked like but the description was decades old.
Something that she wanted to see most was the American frontier. It sounded both amazing and frightening. The Irish that were not settling in the cities were out there, paving a way for America’s Manifest Destiny. She wondered if he was proud of them. He should be, they were not even her people anymore and she was proud of their spirit. It took her several days to leave the bustle of the cities and travel to the frontier by train. She gasped when she got off in Cheyenne, Wyoming. In every direction there was land, big spaces and open sky. It was so different than her first glimpse of America it was hard to believe she was still in the same country. She could breathe freely here. She sat on the outskirts of the city, not really worried about any outlaws, she had met worse in her time. Ireland watched the clouds dance across the plains, they were different than the open lands of her home, drier certainly but there was almost a different feel to them. The power of the land was different here, more untamed. She reveled in the feeling of it.
Hours later the sun began to sink below the horizon washing the land in the colors of twilight. A coyote howled in the distance, sending a unwanted chill up her spine. The creature sounded so lonely out in the wilderness.
“Miss, you don’t want to be out here so close to dark, who knows what’ll get ya.” the voice made her stand and turn. She hadn’t even heard the young man approach. Ireland took in the young man’s appearance. He was dressed like a ranch hand, the chaps over his pants looking worn with who knew how many hours in the saddle. He probably wasn’t far from his mount since he still wore his spurs. He wore a light blue shirt that had seen better days. He wore a broad brimmed hat on top of his head. However, it was what was between the collar of the worn shirt and the cowboy hat that most intrigued Ireland. He had a friendly, sun tanned (practically sunburnt) face and eyes that were as blue as the sky. His hair was blonde, the same colors of the wheat fields she had passed in the midwest, and an unruly part stuck up where the hat had been pushed back.
“America.” his name fell from her lips.
---------
America, going by his human name Alfred, had just gotten into town from the ranch he had been working at. He enjoyed the times he got to get out into his western states. They were such a contrast to the busy attitude of the cities. The wild west calmed him and excited him. On his way into Cheyenne he had caught sight of a young woman on a hill not far away, but certainly out of town. Her clothing marked her as someone from the city, he wondered if she just wasn’t aware of the danger of being out alone at dusk. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her, but her surprise was unmistakeable. When her eyes met his, he was rendered speechless. He took in her slightly foreign clothing, her green eyes, her curly red hair. She was not an ordinary citizen or visitor of his country, she was another nation. One he had seen in the eyes of so many of his new immigrants.
“America.” she whispered. It took him another moment for his mouth to catch up with his mind. Her accent had been unmistakeable.
“Ireland?”
She nodded.
“What are you doing here?” America hadn’t meant for it to sound harsh, but she seemed offended all the same the way she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m checking on my people. So many have come here over the last few decades I almost feel as though my island has been emptied.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I can see the appeal. It’s beautiful here and big and open. And it’s all here for the taking, as long as someone has the determination to work for it.”
------
He smiled as she praised him. It was an honest smile, it was not something she saw in Europe very often. It was certainly not an expression she had seen on any of her brother’s faces lately. Ireland felt her lips curl into a small smile in response.
“Thanks.” he said.
“You’re welcome.” The sun had mostly passed beyond the horizon during the short exchange. “It gets dark quickly around here.” she mentioned. America seemed to remember his original purpose for being out on this hill.
“Yeah, and it’s kind of dangerous here around nightfall. I’ll take you to town, I’m sure the boarding house has one more room for the night. The owners are good friends of mine, I’ll just have to work a little bit harder to pay for you too.” He offered an arm to her to lead her back towards his horse and the town. She quickly took it. She blushed when she felt how strong he was under the shirt sleeves. She tried to quash the feeling in her stomach, she was not going to act like the old days. He was centuries younger than her for goodness sakes!
“You don’t have to pay for me, I can help out!”
“A guest shouldn’t have to work.”
“My people work here, so should I.” She could see his smile in the twilight, she hoped he couldn’t see her blush. The feelings her people felt for him welled up in her. Most of them were loving and friendly, some not so much. It made for a conflicted feeling.
“Whatever you like. Hey, what should I call you, they don’t know I’m America around here. They call me Alfred.”
“They can call me Erin.”
“Erin it is.”
------
Ireland had to admit that the days spent in America’s company were pleasant. For a young country he was very sure of himself. His hopes and dreams were contagious, he spread a feeling of prospect and adventure wherever he went. His people loved him too, although they may not have been fond of his boss. He took great pride at showing her how his people were succeeding in settling the west and had made successes of themselves after escaping poverty in Europe. She met people in a blur of countries of origin, there were people from Mexico, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Poland and even more. Ireland learned that most of them stayed in the east, but were slowly making their way west. Her people had been integral in building the railroad that made it possible to travel across the country in a few days. Many of them had stayed in the towns that had sprung up along the railroads.
They were building towns and building their lives. They were introducing their traditions and beliefs. Sometimes in the course of a day she could see 10 different people behind America’s eyes.
“It must be hard.” she said taking a drink from the water skin as they rested under a lone cottonwood in the middle of a Nebraskan field.
“What?”
“Having all these different people, of so many different backgrounds being within you. I have one and sometimes I think my mind will burst. Especially when the Catholics and Protestants decide they want to fight each other.” She watched his face as it turned to thoughtfulness. In the weeks she had spent with him, this was one of her favorites, this face belied his age, he seemed just as ancient as any other western country. He turned away from her to look out across the prairie as if seeing all the way back to the bustling cities of the east coast.
“Sometimes it is, sometimes it makes me want to keep some of them out. My people have actually voted to keep China’s people out for the time being. I doubt it’ll last. It must be hard for some of them, being next door neighbors with someone who may have been their enemy in their home country. But underneath it all there is an important unifying concept.”
“And that is?”
“American. No matter where they came from, when they set foot on this soil with the intention of living here and being part of this country. They are American. They’re mine.” He smiled into the frontier, as if he hoped his words would ghost over the ears of every person within his borders.
“You’re proud of them.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. Thank you for letting me stay for so long.” She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his left arm. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, she was comforted by the feeling of his power. Unlike other countries in her life, this one was not out to conquer her, he just wanted to open his arms wide and invite everyone in. In the first few days of knowing him Ireland could understand why some other countries cursed this young nation to hell and back. He always seemed to good to be true. America leaned back into her touch.
“It’s no problem at all. It’s the least I can do for all that the Irish people are doing for me. Besides, it’s not like you are bad company. You’re actually the first to ever come visit me, other than England that is. I mean Canada comes by and Mexico comes by to yell at me, but...”
“Really? I would have thought Germany...”
“Just ‘cause his people are my largest white ethnicity after English doesn’t make the guy any less anti-social. I usually have to go to them. I greatly prefer to being here though.”
She snuggled closer to his side, “I can understand why. There’s room to breathe here. Room to hope. It’s hard not to like it here.” They sat in silence, it was comfortable. It felt right. Ireland felt guilty as she absorbed the warmth, she shouldn’t want to be with him, but the emotion was there, lodged in her chest, and it would not disappear.
-----
“I’m leaving for home tomorrow.” He had just come into the small ranch house from a day working with the cattle. After the boarding house in Cheyenne they had moved to a farm in Nebraska and were now on a cattle ranch in Colorado. The travel had been exciting and fun, it had started to make her forget that this wasn’t where she belonged. She was starting to fall in love with this place, love was a dangerous emotion for a nation. It made them invade, it made them want to possess. Ireland knew this well, she had been the victim of another nation’s love many time. She didn’t want to do that to America, he was still so new, so idealistic. She needed to go home.
Upon her announcement America paused, his wide blue eyes staring at her. She stood up from the chair to stand by the table. She gripped the sturdy wood. Her eyes fell to the floor.
“Already?” He sounded crestfallen.
“I’ve been here several months now, America. I have to go home sometime.” He didn’t say anything just crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. She reciprocated wrapping her arms around his larger frame. She could smell the sweat and dust from the work day on his shirt. She had hugged him several times in their time together but this was truly the closest she had been to him. She could feel his body pressed up again hers as he held her to him. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead on hers. Ireland watched as America searched for something to say. She didn’t want him to say anything. “America you can kiss me if you want.”
She watched as the blush crept up his neck to the top of his head. She couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. She pulled him to her and kissed him before he could respond. He tasted like she had imagined, he tasted of sun and wilderness and cities. There were too many flavors. Ireland wanted more. She ran her tongue along his lower lip tasting the dust of the Colorado summer. He opened his mouth to her and she tasted and explored him deeper. Her hands wandered along his arms and his muscular chest. He felt so good beneath her hands. Her hands wandered to the buttons on his work shirt. He stiffened.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s just... Are you sure?” America’s blue eyes met her green ones. He looked nervous about her response. She put her hands on either side of his face, touching him delicately.
“Yes. You’re not innocent are you?” He turned beet red at that. She felt bad, her tongue was too loose sometimes. He leaned away from her taking her hands in his. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s just... I still love England. But, now... I love you too. I shouldn’t love two people at once.” he looked embarrassed. Ireland leaned forward and kissed him. She knew how he felt. She still loved the jerk too. As much as she wanted to be free of him, the connection was still there.
“You can love more than one person. Please, America, I need this. Show me how you love me.” Her lips met his again. Lips touched and tongues tangled. Fingers caressed. Skin moved on skin. Her conquering urge fought his. Both knowing that they were not the first and would hardly be the last. It was a moment, a moment that changed worlds. They were entwined now, he culture stamped forever on his heart. One of the many she knew, but one that he would always feel great affection for.
-----
Ireland didn’t leave the next day, but the time came a week later. She had needed to make a deadline or else she would not have been able to leave. They kissed one last time in the shadows of the small train station. Whispers were passed about how they didn’t want to leave the other. The train whistle blew. She climbed on.
There were no words exchanged, just a simple wave. Ireland could do nothing but stare out the window watching the plains change to fertile fields, fertile fields change to forests and cities. As she got ready to get back on a ship to Europe she wished her people luck and hoped that a certain wide-eyed young nation would not forget about her.
*******
Historical notes: This fic references the fact that by the late 1800s there were quite a few Irish living in the United States after leaving Ireland. They would work many jobs in many parts of the country. Many of them worked in the coal mines of the south, factories in the north, and were the largest group working on the transcontinental railroad coming from the east. Many Irish would also work as ranch hands in the western states.
Many immigrants in this time period were leaving Europe to escape poverty and a lack of opportunities.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: America/Ireland (OC)
Prompt: Table G2, # 1 We're living in desperate times @ 5_prompts, 21. Sunset @ 25FluffyFics, 32. Sunset @ fanfic100
Words: 2,711
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Original Character, since Himaruya-sensei has not yet graced us with an Ireland. Slight liberty taken with history, or rather one historic fact in particular. This was a plot bunny explosion that came out of my brain today. Actually it had been stewing for a while due to an online discussion about 19th Century immigration. In a Hetalia sense I wondered how another nation would feel as their people flooded into America.
Summary: Ireland comes to visit America as her people flee her shores for a better life in the land of the free. She didn't realize how taken she would be with the young blue eyed nation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
In 1890, New York had twice as many Irish as Dublin...
Ireland took a deep breath as she stepped off the ship in New York. The city was thriving, there were now more of her people living here than in Dublin. She corrected herself, they were America’s people now. She scanned the crowds looking at the faces of America’s people. Some of them seemed welcoming to the new wave of immigrants, some seemed downright hostile. She could understand both opinions. Some of them were seeing family again, others were seeing invaders on their land. Invasion was something she understood better than she cared to.
Ireland knew that America would sense her, it was a sixth sense that they had. A nation always knew when another crossed his or her border. She wondered what he was really like, the young nation that had once been the center of England’s attention. Ireland had heard many stories over the years, most of them second hand through Wales or Scotland. She had not been on the best of terms with England in his early days of colonization. A century and a half ago America had been England’s pride and joy. In the decades following the American Revolution and the War of 1812 it seemed he was the bane of the older nations existence. Scotland had met the child once. He had traveled to the America’s briefly in the mid 18th century to check on the Scotch-Irish immigrants. He had spoken highly of the child when he returned. Ireland wondered if she would recognize America when she saw him. She vaguely knew what he looked like but the description was decades old.
Something that she wanted to see most was the American frontier. It sounded both amazing and frightening. The Irish that were not settling in the cities were out there, paving a way for America’s Manifest Destiny. She wondered if he was proud of them. He should be, they were not even her people anymore and she was proud of their spirit. It took her several days to leave the bustle of the cities and travel to the frontier by train. She gasped when she got off in Cheyenne, Wyoming. In every direction there was land, big spaces and open sky. It was so different than her first glimpse of America it was hard to believe she was still in the same country. She could breathe freely here. She sat on the outskirts of the city, not really worried about any outlaws, she had met worse in her time. Ireland watched the clouds dance across the plains, they were different than the open lands of her home, drier certainly but there was almost a different feel to them. The power of the land was different here, more untamed. She reveled in the feeling of it.
Hours later the sun began to sink below the horizon washing the land in the colors of twilight. A coyote howled in the distance, sending a unwanted chill up her spine. The creature sounded so lonely out in the wilderness.
“Miss, you don’t want to be out here so close to dark, who knows what’ll get ya.” the voice made her stand and turn. She hadn’t even heard the young man approach. Ireland took in the young man’s appearance. He was dressed like a ranch hand, the chaps over his pants looking worn with who knew how many hours in the saddle. He probably wasn’t far from his mount since he still wore his spurs. He wore a light blue shirt that had seen better days. He wore a broad brimmed hat on top of his head. However, it was what was between the collar of the worn shirt and the cowboy hat that most intrigued Ireland. He had a friendly, sun tanned (practically sunburnt) face and eyes that were as blue as the sky. His hair was blonde, the same colors of the wheat fields she had passed in the midwest, and an unruly part stuck up where the hat had been pushed back.
“America.” his name fell from her lips.
---------
America, going by his human name Alfred, had just gotten into town from the ranch he had been working at. He enjoyed the times he got to get out into his western states. They were such a contrast to the busy attitude of the cities. The wild west calmed him and excited him. On his way into Cheyenne he had caught sight of a young woman on a hill not far away, but certainly out of town. Her clothing marked her as someone from the city, he wondered if she just wasn’t aware of the danger of being out alone at dusk. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her, but her surprise was unmistakeable. When her eyes met his, he was rendered speechless. He took in her slightly foreign clothing, her green eyes, her curly red hair. She was not an ordinary citizen or visitor of his country, she was another nation. One he had seen in the eyes of so many of his new immigrants.
“America.” she whispered. It took him another moment for his mouth to catch up with his mind. Her accent had been unmistakeable.
“Ireland?”
She nodded.
“What are you doing here?” America hadn’t meant for it to sound harsh, but she seemed offended all the same the way she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m checking on my people. So many have come here over the last few decades I almost feel as though my island has been emptied.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I can see the appeal. It’s beautiful here and big and open. And it’s all here for the taking, as long as someone has the determination to work for it.”
------
He smiled as she praised him. It was an honest smile, it was not something she saw in Europe very often. It was certainly not an expression she had seen on any of her brother’s faces lately. Ireland felt her lips curl into a small smile in response.
“Thanks.” he said.
“You’re welcome.” The sun had mostly passed beyond the horizon during the short exchange. “It gets dark quickly around here.” she mentioned. America seemed to remember his original purpose for being out on this hill.
“Yeah, and it’s kind of dangerous here around nightfall. I’ll take you to town, I’m sure the boarding house has one more room for the night. The owners are good friends of mine, I’ll just have to work a little bit harder to pay for you too.” He offered an arm to her to lead her back towards his horse and the town. She quickly took it. She blushed when she felt how strong he was under the shirt sleeves. She tried to quash the feeling in her stomach, she was not going to act like the old days. He was centuries younger than her for goodness sakes!
“You don’t have to pay for me, I can help out!”
“A guest shouldn’t have to work.”
“My people work here, so should I.” She could see his smile in the twilight, she hoped he couldn’t see her blush. The feelings her people felt for him welled up in her. Most of them were loving and friendly, some not so much. It made for a conflicted feeling.
“Whatever you like. Hey, what should I call you, they don’t know I’m America around here. They call me Alfred.”
“They can call me Erin.”
“Erin it is.”
------
Ireland had to admit that the days spent in America’s company were pleasant. For a young country he was very sure of himself. His hopes and dreams were contagious, he spread a feeling of prospect and adventure wherever he went. His people loved him too, although they may not have been fond of his boss. He took great pride at showing her how his people were succeeding in settling the west and had made successes of themselves after escaping poverty in Europe. She met people in a blur of countries of origin, there were people from Mexico, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Poland and even more. Ireland learned that most of them stayed in the east, but were slowly making their way west. Her people had been integral in building the railroad that made it possible to travel across the country in a few days. Many of them had stayed in the towns that had sprung up along the railroads.
They were building towns and building their lives. They were introducing their traditions and beliefs. Sometimes in the course of a day she could see 10 different people behind America’s eyes.
“It must be hard.” she said taking a drink from the water skin as they rested under a lone cottonwood in the middle of a Nebraskan field.
“What?”
“Having all these different people, of so many different backgrounds being within you. I have one and sometimes I think my mind will burst. Especially when the Catholics and Protestants decide they want to fight each other.” She watched his face as it turned to thoughtfulness. In the weeks she had spent with him, this was one of her favorites, this face belied his age, he seemed just as ancient as any other western country. He turned away from her to look out across the prairie as if seeing all the way back to the bustling cities of the east coast.
“Sometimes it is, sometimes it makes me want to keep some of them out. My people have actually voted to keep China’s people out for the time being. I doubt it’ll last. It must be hard for some of them, being next door neighbors with someone who may have been their enemy in their home country. But underneath it all there is an important unifying concept.”
“And that is?”
“American. No matter where they came from, when they set foot on this soil with the intention of living here and being part of this country. They are American. They’re mine.” He smiled into the frontier, as if he hoped his words would ghost over the ears of every person within his borders.
“You’re proud of them.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. Thank you for letting me stay for so long.” She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his left arm. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, she was comforted by the feeling of his power. Unlike other countries in her life, this one was not out to conquer her, he just wanted to open his arms wide and invite everyone in. In the first few days of knowing him Ireland could understand why some other countries cursed this young nation to hell and back. He always seemed to good to be true. America leaned back into her touch.
“It’s no problem at all. It’s the least I can do for all that the Irish people are doing for me. Besides, it’s not like you are bad company. You’re actually the first to ever come visit me, other than England that is. I mean Canada comes by and Mexico comes by to yell at me, but...”
“Really? I would have thought Germany...”
“Just ‘cause his people are my largest white ethnicity after English doesn’t make the guy any less anti-social. I usually have to go to them. I greatly prefer to being here though.”
She snuggled closer to his side, “I can understand why. There’s room to breathe here. Room to hope. It’s hard not to like it here.” They sat in silence, it was comfortable. It felt right. Ireland felt guilty as she absorbed the warmth, she shouldn’t want to be with him, but the emotion was there, lodged in her chest, and it would not disappear.
-----
“I’m leaving for home tomorrow.” He had just come into the small ranch house from a day working with the cattle. After the boarding house in Cheyenne they had moved to a farm in Nebraska and were now on a cattle ranch in Colorado. The travel had been exciting and fun, it had started to make her forget that this wasn’t where she belonged. She was starting to fall in love with this place, love was a dangerous emotion for a nation. It made them invade, it made them want to possess. Ireland knew this well, she had been the victim of another nation’s love many time. She didn’t want to do that to America, he was still so new, so idealistic. She needed to go home.
Upon her announcement America paused, his wide blue eyes staring at her. She stood up from the chair to stand by the table. She gripped the sturdy wood. Her eyes fell to the floor.
“Already?” He sounded crestfallen.
“I’ve been here several months now, America. I have to go home sometime.” He didn’t say anything just crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. She reciprocated wrapping her arms around his larger frame. She could smell the sweat and dust from the work day on his shirt. She had hugged him several times in their time together but this was truly the closest she had been to him. She could feel his body pressed up again hers as he held her to him. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead on hers. Ireland watched as America searched for something to say. She didn’t want him to say anything. “America you can kiss me if you want.”
She watched as the blush crept up his neck to the top of his head. She couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. She pulled him to her and kissed him before he could respond. He tasted like she had imagined, he tasted of sun and wilderness and cities. There were too many flavors. Ireland wanted more. She ran her tongue along his lower lip tasting the dust of the Colorado summer. He opened his mouth to her and she tasted and explored him deeper. Her hands wandered along his arms and his muscular chest. He felt so good beneath her hands. Her hands wandered to the buttons on his work shirt. He stiffened.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s just... Are you sure?” America’s blue eyes met her green ones. He looked nervous about her response. She put her hands on either side of his face, touching him delicately.
“Yes. You’re not innocent are you?” He turned beet red at that. She felt bad, her tongue was too loose sometimes. He leaned away from her taking her hands in his. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s just... I still love England. But, now... I love you too. I shouldn’t love two people at once.” he looked embarrassed. Ireland leaned forward and kissed him. She knew how he felt. She still loved the jerk too. As much as she wanted to be free of him, the connection was still there.
“You can love more than one person. Please, America, I need this. Show me how you love me.” Her lips met his again. Lips touched and tongues tangled. Fingers caressed. Skin moved on skin. Her conquering urge fought his. Both knowing that they were not the first and would hardly be the last. It was a moment, a moment that changed worlds. They were entwined now, he culture stamped forever on his heart. One of the many she knew, but one that he would always feel great affection for.
-----
Ireland didn’t leave the next day, but the time came a week later. She had needed to make a deadline or else she would not have been able to leave. They kissed one last time in the shadows of the small train station. Whispers were passed about how they didn’t want to leave the other. The train whistle blew. She climbed on.
There were no words exchanged, just a simple wave. Ireland could do nothing but stare out the window watching the plains change to fertile fields, fertile fields change to forests and cities. As she got ready to get back on a ship to Europe she wished her people luck and hoped that a certain wide-eyed young nation would not forget about her.
*******
Historical notes: This fic references the fact that by the late 1800s there were quite a few Irish living in the United States after leaving Ireland. They would work many jobs in many parts of the country. Many of them worked in the coal mines of the south, factories in the north, and were the largest group working on the transcontinental railroad coming from the east. Many Irish would also work as ranch hands in the western states.
Many immigrants in this time period were leaving Europe to escape poverty and a lack of opportunities.