Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (23 page)

Fiona shook her head and pursed her lips together. “There has to be someone who kens more. Unfortunately, I do no’ ken who that would be.”

From the expressions on her brothers’ faces, they were just as lost as she.

Y
oung Conner McPherson
had been having a most pleasant dream. One in which he was older and bigger and a warrior like his da and uncle Michael. He had a real sword, made from the finest steel. He was riding on the back of a fine black stallion, his father and uncle beside him. They were defending Scotland and their home.

“Conner! Maggie!” ’Twas his mum rousing him and his sister from their sleep. His mum sounded very upset and very afraid. “Wheesht!” she whispered harshly as she pulled first Conner from the pallet, then his wee sister. “Do no’ say a word!” his mum whispered sharply as she led them to the little door in the wall that divided their sleeping loft from the barn loft attached to their hut.

“What’s wrong?” Conner asked. He’d never seen his mum so afraid before. ’Twas still dark out, and only a sliver of moonlight shone into the one window in their loft.

“Wheesht, Conner,” his mum said as she shoved him through the small door. His mum knelt down on one knee and shoved his sleepy sister in next. “Conner, no matter what ye hear, ye do no’ leave the loft. Promise me, son, ye’ll no’ leave the loft.”

Conner nodded his promise as his mum grabbed a blanket from his pallet and stuffed it through the door. “Remain as quiet as a mouse, Conner. Keep yer sister quiet too.” He nodded again as he wrapped his arms around his little sister. ’Twas then that he heard loud voices coming in from out of doors. His mum heard them too and began to shut the tiny door. Before it closed all the way, she placed a kiss on her fingertips and touched first Conner’s cheek, then Maggie’s.

“If anythin’ happens, Conner, ye go to the main keep. Ye’ve been there before, remember? With yer da and yer uncle.” His mum said as she held onto the door.

“Mum, I be afraid,” Conner whispered. He would never have told his father that, because men were never afraid. He knew he could tell his mum for she always seemed to understand.

“I want me da,” Maggie began to cry.

“Wheesht, now, my babes. I need ye to be as quiet as a wee mouse, no matter what happens, ye stay in this loft. In the morn, ye go to Collin McPherson.”

“But why?” Conner asked as the voices grew louder and angrier and more frightening. He couldn’t ever remember being this afraid, or seeing his mum in such distress before. His stomach began to feel sick, especially when the door closed. He and his sister were submerged into darkness.

“
C
onner
,” Maggie whispered softly, her little voice sounding very much afraid. “What is happenin’?”

He did not know for certain. The voices grew louder and angrier. He could not make out any words that were spoken for the wall between their living quarters and the barn would not allow it. That, and his heart was pounding so loudly he worried the angry voices would find them.

“Conner,” Maggie whispered and trembled. “I want Da.”

He wanted Da, too. He wanted the mean and angry sounding men to leave. He and Maggie nearly jumped from their skin when they heard a loud crash come from below stairs. It sounded like the front door had been kicked in. A moment later, they heard their mum screaming.

More crashing, more yelling and the sound of their mum’s terrified shrieks filled the tiny space. Conner drew the blanket up and over his and Maggie’s heads. Huddled under the blanket, they held onto one another for dear life, as if they were on a ship at sea fighting great waves as they tumbled through a storm.

The blanket only muffled the sounds that came from below. Their auld milk cow began to kick at the walls, lowing loudly while the chickens squawked frantically.

“Conner, I be scared,” Maggie whispered as she clung to him, her little arms shaking, her chin quivering.

Supposing she might feel better if she knew he was also afraid, he said, “Me, too.”

Being the oldest, it was up to him to keep his sister safe and out of trouble. How many times had his father said that to him? Conner had worn the title of big brother proudly, ever since Maggie had been born. For six years now, he’d done his best to keep her out of mischief and harm’s way.

Now, as they were huddled under the blanket, hidden in darkness in the loft above the barn, he was uncertain he wanted to keep that title or those responsibilities. He didn’t feel quite so brave or auld at the moment.

Still, he’d made his mum a promise and he’d do his best to keep it.

H
is mum screamed
and screamed to the point that Conner was ready to scream himself. He had no idea what was happening below stairs nor what agony his mum was suffering that made her scream so loudly. Conner had Maggie cover her ears with her hands so that she could not hear it.

While he would have preferred not to listen, something in his belly told him he must. Listen closely, Conner. Wait until ’tis quiet and then ye can go to yer mum and help her.

Where was his da? Who were these strange men? He heard the high-pitched neighs of multiple horses and the pounding of hoofs on the ground. Conner strained his ears to listen. He thought he heard the horses running around the outer walls of their hut. Men were laughing, some shouted unintelligibly at what or who he was uncertain.

It seemed to Conner as if the ordeal went on for hours and hours, with him huddled under the blanket, holding on to his wee sister. More shouting, more laughter, his mother’s screams. Suddenly, he felt like throwing up, but dared not for fear that whoever was below stairs tormenting his mother might hear him. Who knew what they’d do to him or to Maggie. Nay, he had to be brave and he had to be smart.

The cow grew increasingly agitated, as did the chickens, but it sounded as though the shouting and screaming had stopped.

Conner held his breath, strained his ears to listen, to hear over the cow and chickens and his ever-pounding heart. He waited. Finally, he dared take the chance to chance a peek from under the blanket.

The barn was still quite dark, barely any moonlight at all made its way into the space. When he finally let loose the breath he’d been holding, he caught the faint whiff of smoke.

Ever so carefully, he crawled from under the blanket and made his way to the edge of the loft. As he drew nearer, he could see something was glowing and flickering. When he made it to the edge, he could see the source of the orange glow.

The barn was on fire.

T
hough his mother
had told him to wait until morn before he left the safety of the loft, the fire blazing in the corner below changed everything. Thinking quickly, he pulled the blanket away from his little sister.

“Maggie, do no’ scream or cry. I need ye to listen to me.”

She nodded her head and took his hand.

“The barn be on fire. We have to get out,” he told her as he stood up and helped her to her feet. “Ye stay right behind me, Maggie. No matter what, do no’ let go of me hand.”

As she gave another nod, smoke began to billow up and into the loft. Conner knew they had to leave and leave quickly. He folded the blanket in half before wrapping it around Maggie’s shoulders. She began to weep as she squeezed his hand tightly. “Conner, I be afraid! I want mum!”

“Wheesht now, Maggie,” Conner said as he tried to sound brave and pretend that he knew what he was doing.

He tugged on the door and prayed no one below would hear him. He went through the door first, pulling Maggie behind him. Smoke followed from the barn into their loft. Uncertain what lay below or where his parents were, he pulled the door shut in hopes of keeping the smoke out of this portion of their home long enough to make an escape.

They crept to the edge of their loft and peered over the ledge. All the furniture below was askew, chairs broken and scattered about the room. Pots and dishes lay broken across the floor. Conner raced back to their pallet then and grabbed their boots. “Put yer boots on, Maggie,” he whispered. “There be broken things below.”

Maggie stood frozen with fear, unable to move. Conner tugged his boots on, then shoved Maggie’s feet into hers. Smoke began to billow in through the cracks in the wall.

“Come, Maggie!” he said. “We must get out of here.”

She didn’t move.

“Maggie, please, we must hurry!”

She remained frozen in place. Conner felt like crying then. He wanted his mum, he wanted his da.

“Maggie, come, we must help Mum and Da!”

Hearing those words jolted her out of her fear induced trance and propelled her forward.

They scurried down the ladder, with Conner going first. He helped Maggie the rest of the way when his feet touched the stone floor. He glanced around the large room, but did not see either of his parents. Their little home was rapidly filling with smoke. Conner could hear the flames as they roared to life in the barn.

The door to their hut had been shattered and lay in bits on the floor. Carefully, holding on to Maggie’s hand, he led them out of the hut and into the cold night air.

That’s when he saw something so horrible it would be forever etched in his mind.

His father’s lifeless body, covered in blood, was swaying to and fro from the wych elm tree not more than twenty yards ahead. His father’s face was a terrifying shade of purple, his eyes staring at nothing whilst his tongue protruded through his open mouth.

Try as he might, Conner could not bring himself to look away. At first, he thought it too gruesome to be real. Mayhap ’twas all a bad dream.

Nay, if he were dreaming he would not be able to feel Maggie’s cold clammy hand in his.

Maggie.

He had to protect her from the sickening sight of their father hanging dead from the tree. He spun around sharply and tugged the blanket over her head to shield her from it.

“I canna see!” Maggie argued.

“Wheesht!” Conner said, fighting back tears and a stomach that threatened to throw up its contents. He pulled her close and on trembling legs, he walked away from the hut and away from the tree. The cow screamed a most sickening sound. But he couldn’t run it to free her for the barn was completely engulfed now. Flames leapt from the barn and caught the thatched roof beside it aflame.

His voice was thoroughly lodged in his throat. Where was his mum? Panic welled and turned to tears as he looked around the yard for some sign of her. He really needed his mum.

Behind them, the fire roared. Though he could feel the heat coming from the flames, his insides felt as cold as the loch in winter time. He could feel Maggie more than hear her as she squeezed his hand and wept. “Where be mum?” she said over and over again.

They heard a loud booming sound coming from behind them. Together, they spun just in time to see the heavy wooden beams that used to be the roof to their barn, explode tumble down, imploding on itself.

Conner pulled Maggie away and began his frantic search for his mum.

Maggie saw her first.

She was lying face down in the mud some thirty yards away. He tried to stop Maggie from rushing to her, but her clammy hands were too slippery to hold on to. She pulled away and tore across the yard. “Mum!” she cried. “Mum!”

Conner ran after his sister. When he got closer, he could see the blood still oozing from his mum’s bare back. Her face was bloodied, her lip cut, a large gash ran down the side of her face. Her bare back was scratched and cut and bruised. A large, gaping wound ran sideways, just under her left shoulder blade where blood had ceased to flow.

Maggie was trying to wake their mum, but Conner knew ’twas useless to try.

“Mum, please wake up,” Maggie cried as she patted her back gently, as if she were afraid to hurt her. “Please mum, please.”

Conner sank to his knees. For a long time, he felt numb all over.

“Mum, please wake up,” Maggie said as she laid her tiny blonde head against her mother’s back and continued to give her soft pats. Either she didn’t notice or she refused to see the tremendous amount of her mother’s blood she now knelt in. “Mum, I be afraid.”

Tears began to run down Conner’s cheeks. Everything was gone. His parents, their home, even their milk cow and chickens. There was nothing left, but him and Maggie.

The realization made his stomach hurt and twist uncontrollably. He doubled over and wretched, vomit splattering against the mud.

J
ust after dawn
, Fiona was roused from sleep by her brother, William. “There’s been another raid,” he seethed as he shook her awake.

Within short order, Fiona was dressed in tunic and trews and standing in her private study. Seamus and Andrew looked grief-stricken, whilst William looked mad enough to bite through iron.

“What happened?” Fiona asked, knowing full well she was not going to like the answers.

“A little over an hour ago, the night watch saw what appeared to be a large fire just east of here. They sent out scouts,” William said, looking as distressed as he was angry. “’Twas Stephan and Mildred McPherson’s croft.”

Fiona’s gut began to constrict. From William’s red face, she felt certain that there was nothing good in what he was about to tell her.

“They were no’ far from the croft when they came across wee Conner and Maggie, wanderin’ in the dead of night, tryin’ to make their way to the keep,” William worked his jaw back and forth as he recounted what he’d been told. “They were covered in mud and tears, and blood.”

Fiona’s heart began to sink even further. Refusing to jump to any conclusions, she waited quietly for William to tell her all of it.

“A few of the scouts went on whilst two brought the children here.”

Stephan and Mildred and their two children lived on the edge of McPherson lands, an hour’s walk southwest of the keep. The children were young, a boy and a girl. If her memory served her correctly, they were between six and eight years of age.

“Where are they now?” Fiona asked as her heart pounded against her breast.

“Isabelle and Mairi have them,” William said through gritted teeth. “One of our scouts returned a short while ago. Someone raided Stephan and Mildred’s croft. They found Stephan hangin’ from a tree…” his voice trailed off. He had to take a fortifying breath before he could continue on. “And Mildred,” he choked on saying the poor woman’s name.

Seamus stepped in to tell the rest of the story. “They found poor Mildred lyin’ dead, face down in the mud.”

Fury boiled deep within Fiona’s stomach. Stephan and Mildred McPherson were two of the nicest people she’d ever known; their children were sweet and well-mannered. This went beyond a raid. This was a massacre of innocent lives.

“The lass will no’ speak. She be the younger of the two,” William said softly, visibly upset by the events.

Fiona found her voice and asked, “And what does the lad tell us?”

Seamus and Andrew cast each other a glance before Seamus answered. “He says his mum woke them in the middle of the night to hide them in the loft above the cow.” Many of the crofters’ huts shared space with the animals. Whilst the families lived in one side of the hut, they oft kept their milk cows and chickens in an attached barn. ’Twasn’t always the best smelling of situations, but the arrangement was centuries old and quite convenient. Stephan and Mildred lived in such a hut.

“He says his mum was verra afraid, hurried them into the loft and bid them no’ to make a sound,” Seamus said. “They could no’ see what was happenin’, but they could hear. There were men on horses, how many he does no’ ken, but the lad says it sounded like many. They could hear their da sayin’ to the men they could take whatever they needed, but to leave his family be.” Seamus swallowed hard and took a steadying breath before going further. “The lad says they could hear their parents bein’ killed. Their mum screamin’ fer mercy, their dad tryin’ to fend off the raiders. The lad — his name be Conner by the way — said the hut grew quiet all of a sudden, then it began to fill with smoke.”

Fiona felt her heart sink and her stomach contract further as she listened.
Those poor babes,
she thought to herself. Innocent children having to listen as their parents are slaughtered. The hell they must have gone through, the hell they most likely will have to endure the rest of their lives.

“As soon as the children arrived, Collin and Richard left with more scouts,” William said.

Fiona felt her head begin to swim with visions of what Stephan and Mildred must have gone through, how terrified they all must have been.

“I’ll no’ make a decision until Collin returns. I will also need to speak with the children. Fer now, we’ll let them rest. But I will have to question them.” The thought of questioning two innocent and young children made her feel queasy.

“The lad is terribly distraught,” Seamus said, clearly disgusted and angry. “I dunna ken how they managed to survive …” his words trailed away as he paled visibly.

Fiona could not begin to imagine the hell that took place at that wee little farm. All she could think of at the moment was those poor little children.

R
ichard returned
with three of the men a short time later. He stomped into Fiona’s study, angrier than she’d ever seen him. His cheeks were covered in soot and sweat, his ginger hair all askew, and his green eyes aflame with barely controlled rage.

He walked straight to the side table, poured a large mug of whisky, and downed half of it before he was able to speak.

“We found Stephan hanging from a tree,” he said before taking another long drink.

Fiona, Seamus and Andrew waited silently for Richard — who was visibly shaken — to work up the courage to tell them what he’d seen. They would not push for answers just yet.

“Mil —” he choked trying to get her name out. Clearing his throat, he began again. “Mildred … they raped her before they killed her. She was lyin’ face down in the mud, cut and scratched and beaten.” He drank down the rest of his whisky before filling the mug again. “She’d never hurt a soul in her life. They raped her. They beat her. Then they stabbed her repeatedly and left her to die naked in the mud.”

’Twas one thing to steal a few sheep. ’Twas quite another matter to kill innocent people. First Bridgett, now Stephan and Mildred McPherson. Three of the kindest people Fiona had ever known.

Fiona pushed to her feet as her rage bubbled to the surface. “All this because someone believes our water be magic?” she seethed, her voice loud and filled with anger. “Fer bloody water?”

Unable to contain her rage, she took her arm and swiped the contents from the top of her desk to the floor. “I’ll no’ stand fer this!” she shouted. “I’ll no’ cower. I’ll no run. I’ll no’ hide. I will avenge their deaths. We will put an end to this, one way or another.”

C
ollin
and the scouts did not return for several hours. They had stayed behind to bury Stephan and Mildred.

Nothing was left behind that might indicate who was responsible for the senseless and brutal deaths. No
sgian dubhs,
no bits of plaid, no obvious message other than a burned home and two dead.

Collin was exhausted, his shoulders slumping as he sat in Fiona’s study. They were alone now, just him and his sister. He had downed two tankards of ale before he had the courage to tell her what little he knew.

“From the hoof tracks we found, we think there were at least six men on horseback,” he said in a low, steady voice. “I sent two men to follow. It appears they came in from the west and left in that same direction.”

“It makes no sense,” Fiona said as she sipped on her own mug of cider. “Why attack Stephan and Mildred? What could possibly be gained from it?” That question had been plaguing her from the start.
Why them?

Collin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He was as baffled as anyone else. “I canna believe this be fer supposed magic water,” he said. “There has to be more to it than that.”

“I agree,” Fiona said as she absentmindedly ran her finger around the rim of her mug. “But what?”

Collin sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I dunna ken, Fiona, I dunna ken.”

They sat in quiet contemplation for some time before Collin spoke again. “What do we do now?”

’Twas another question she could not answer fully. “We bring all of our people in. Send riders out immediately to warn them. We have less than a dozen crofters throughout our lands. Bring them all inside the walls. Our livestock as well,” she stood and went to the door and opened it. Two young lads had been standing outside her study waiting. Fiona pointed to each lad, “Run and fetch William and Seamus lads. Tell them I need them at once.” The boys gave a nod before running off to do as she’d asked.

Shutting the door, she returned to her place across from Collin and sat. “Ye look like hell,” she told him. Dark circles surrounded his blue eyes, his hair was disheveled, and a smudge of dirt lined his left jaw. His clothes were filthy and smelled of smoke.

Collin smiled. “I could say the same of ye.”

“We’ve no’ had much sleep these past weeks,” Fiona remarked. “I fear we’ll no’ be gettin’ much more until we find out who is responsible for these raids and murders.”

Collin took a long pull on his ale. “We need more men and weapons,” he said as he stared at the half empty mug.

Fiona knew where he was going with that statement. “Aye, we do.”

He looked up at her through heavy lids. “Have ye made a decision?” he asked, referring to Edgar MacKinnon’s proposal.

“Nay, I’ve no’.” Until she’d been woken to the news of Stephan and Mildred’s murders, she had believed she had made up her mind. She was not going to marry Bhruic. But these new murders, this senseless and brutal raid had put things in a new and quite harsh light.

“Fiona, I ken ye do no’ love Bhruic,” Collin began. “Under normal circumstances, I’d no’ press ye to do anythin’ ye do no’ wish to do.”

She remained quiet and listened. She knew he was not going to tell her anything she hadn’t been thinking about for the past few hours.

“I fear we will no’ be able to defend ourselves, Fiona. Especially if this be someone from a much larger clan. Our men, while we’ve trained them well, they be no’ used to battle. Hell, a good majority of them have never even seen battle. While I trust their fealty and determination, that alone might no’ be enough when the time comes.”

Fiona let out a long, slow breath. Every word of what her brother said was true. He neither exaggerated nor did he try to make things seem less than they were.

“We’ve no one else to go to fer help, Fiona, save fer the McDunnahs. Fer now, they be the only clan that I truly trust.”

Fiona wondered if she were to go to Caelen for help, would he give it? Considering how she’d left him days before, she seriously doubted it. And she could not rightly blame him. “I fear Caelen will no’ help us now.”

Collin raised a brow. “I do no’ agree. He’s an honorable man, Fiona. He’d help if ye’d let him.”

“Caelen asked me to marry him, Collin. I told him nay.” She let a few moments pass, allowing what she’d finally admitted aloud to settle in.

“Why?” Collin asked as he studied her closely.

“Why do ye think?” she asked, exasperated. “If I were to marry Caelen, our clan would be absorbed into theirs. I promised James, his father and ours that I’d never allow that to happen.”

“Would that be so bad?” Collin asked.

Fiona’s eyes widened with shock. “Are ye daft? Of course ’twould be bad! I’d be breakin’ me word. I’ll no’ go crawlin’ away from me word, from me oath at the first hint of troubles!” Mayhap ’twas exhaustion that made Collin ask such a thing, mayhap ’twas madness, or mayhap ’twas frustration. Either way, it did not matter. Fiona would die before she’d ever consider doing such a thing.

“Then ye’ll consider marryin’ Bhruic?” Collin finally asked. “Fer our clan?”

There was no way around it. “Aye, I’ll consider it.”

“We may no’ have much time fer you to linger on it, Fiona.”

She glared at him. “I ken that, Collin!”

“I wish things could be different, Fiona. But ye knew the day ye took yer oath as chief that ye’d have to face some verra difficult decisions.”

She snorted derisively. “Aye, but I never imagined anythin’ like what I face now.”

T
he McPherson scouts
returned late in the afternoon. Covered with mud and muck, they rode through the gates and hurried into the keep in search of Collin and Fiona.

Fiona had heard the call to raise the gates and entered the gathering room from her study. Collin came bounding down the stairs at the same time. He’d managed to bathe and catch an hour’s worth of sleep.

Drigh McPherson had led the scouting party. He now stood before Fiona, looking tired and frustrated. “We followed west as far as we could, clear to the border with the MacElroys,” he was out of breath, travel-worn and weary. “The tracks then turned south, but the rains washed away any further signs, Fiona. We lost them.” He sounded dejected.

MacElroys,
Fiona thought. Could the MacElroy be behind all of this? Was he arrogant enough or insane enough to do such a thing? “But they did no’ cross onto MacElroy land?”

Drigh gave a shake of his head. “No’ that we could tell. Again, there was too much mud to tell where they went after turnin’ south.”

Fiona thanked the men. “Go, bathe and eat and get some rest,” she told them.

“I be terribly sorry, Fiona,” Drigh said with sagging shoulders.

“Do no’ worry over it,” Fiona told him. “Ye’ve done as good as ye could under the circumstances. Now go, do as I said. Rest up, fer I may need ye to ride again.”

The men gave cursory bows before quitting the gathering room.

Collin came to stand beside her, looking as confused and as concerned as Fiona felt.

“Do ye think it could be the MacElroy?”

“In truth, Collin, I do no’ ken. It could be another ruse, like with the McDunnahs. It could be they only want us to think he be responsible.”

Collin gave that some thought for a moment. “True, but we canna take any chances.”

He was right. The MacElroy clan was much bigger than her own, its men far more seasoned when it came to border wars and battles. She did not know if her own small clan would be able to stand up to them, though they’d certainly do their best to try. And what if the MacElroy did not act alone? What if it was more than just one clan at fault?

The odds were sorely against them.

In that small moment of time, she knew what she must do. She would marry Bhruic MacKinnon.