Highland Chieftain (3 page)

“Are ye going to take the laddie to him?” Bean asked.

“Nay yet. It wouldnae do to suddenly have him go missing. Yet he must go soon. I think these men he speaks of would be a great deal of trouble for us.” She idly tucked the covers more firmly around the sleeping child. “They were harsh in their handling of him, leaving bruises, and appear to be after some inheritance he has come into. They nearly killed a mon over it. They have already killed his father and frightened his mother into running off. What will they do to us? Nay, I need to be verra careful in what I do next.”

“Dinnae forget us,” said Colin. “We can help.”

“I dinnae wish to tangle ye up in this problem,” Bethoc said.

“I think we are tangled up in it now. Father brought the lad here and I think he kenned he wasnae one like us, alone or with no one who would care much if he went missing. Men after the lad dinnae ken that, do they? They may see us and think we are part of it all or ken more than we do. Seems to me they would be seeing us as a means to make Da do what they want.”

She wanted to tell him he was wrong but feared he was not. Colin was too clever not to have seen the risk this boy brought with him. Bethoc was reeling from the truths she had learned about her father in the last day. She was having difficulty thinking of any plan, any clear direction to take.

“I wish I had the courage to just demand some answers from the mon,” she muttered, and was surprised when Bean patted her on the back.

“Best thing is to speak as little as possible and ne'er ask questions,” he said. “'Tis how we all deal with the mon. I think ye need to talk to that fellow Callum. It would help to ken who the men are and how badly they want the boy. If they were willing to kill the mon with him, I suspicion they want the boy verra badly indeed.”

“True.” She sighed and stood up. “I need to get some sleep and shouldnae leave Margaret alone any longer. It would be best if I sleep on it, decide what to do on the morrow.” She looked at Bean and Colin. “And I thank ye for standing for me at supper.”

“Time he ceased beating on you,” Bean said. “Does it too often and has gotten fierce in the doing of it. Kicking ye like that. He could have broken something.”

She was rather surprised that he had not, but simply patted both boys on the shoulder and went down the stairs. Leaving a small lamp lit for her father, she got ready for bed. She had a tiny alcove and needed to share it with her sister. Slipping in as gently as she could so as not to wake her sister, she tucked the child up against her. Then she reached out to unhook the material that hung over the opening and let it fall, enclosing them both in darkness.

Bed was a hiding place. It was just not very secure. Her father had yanked her out of it before. When he was out she would sleep but she always woke when he came back, snapping into full alertness at the sound of the door opening. Then she would lie still, listening as he moved around the room. Just lately he had taken to stopping right outside her alcove and standing there for several minutes. She could feel his stare and it terrified her.

Bethoc had the sick feeling her father was slowly ceasing to think of her as a daughter, one he had openly said was not his, and think of her only as a woman. She feared the night he would take that final step in his thoughts. Tonight, however, his steps indicated he was well into his cups as he came into the house and stumbled his way to his bed. She doubted he had even bothered to take off his clothes. For a long time, there was no sound of movement and then she heard him start to snore.

Little by little she allowed her muscles to relax, surprised at how tense she had grown. He had left the light on. That, too, was becoming common even though it was both wasteful and dangerous. She sighed and, after a moment, slipped out of bed to put out the light.

The man had not even turned his covers down or removed his shoes. He looked as if he had just collapsed on the bed, falling asleep even as he fell. The smell of ale and sweat coming from him was powerful. Even if he had not turned down the covers she was going to have to wash all the linen just to be rid of that smell.

Drink had aged him, she realized. Drink and anger. The lines on his face were many and deep. Bethoc had to wonder what had happened to make him see the world through such a dark veil of disappointment. He always felt cheated somehow, that he was deserving of something greater and had been denied it by fate. She shook her head, snuffed the light, and crawled back into bed. There was nothing to be done to change the man now.

Margaret cuddled up against her, taking her braid and pressing it against her face. Bethoc smiled and patted her back. The children were why she was still at home. Without them, she was sure she would have run after the first beating or when her mother had died for that was when Kerr Matheson's temper had grown out of control. It had become the kind of anger that ignited without warning or even reason.

And why was she still calling him her father? she asked herself crossly. He was not. She knew it for a fact now. Her mother had told her the name of the man who had sired her. It was, perhaps, past time she went looking for the man. Fate could not be so unkind to give her a real father as bad as the one she had now. He might not want anything to do with her, but he could bestir himself enough to find her a safe place—her, Margaret, and the lads.

With that decided, she fought to clear her mind when the drape hiding her bed was thrust aside. She felt panic swell then ebb as she saw, faintly, the shapes of two boys. A moment later, her eyes adjusted to the faint light in the house and she saw Colin holding the hand of a silently weeping Cathan.

“What is wrong?” she asked, and reached for the child who threw himself against her and clung tightly.

“He wouldnae cease weeping.” Colin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It was keeping us all awake.”

“What ails ye, Cathan? Do ye hurt?” she asked softly when she realized Colin had spoken in a whisper.

“I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

“Ah, poor lad. Do ye want to stay with me and Margaret?”

He nodded and Colin sighed with relief. “Then I will leave him with ye. Good sleep, Bethoc.”

The moment he left, Bethoc settled down again. Since she could not hug both children, she curled around Margaret and let Cathan curl up against her back. She was touched when he slipped his arm around her waist and grabbed hold of her hand. If he had told the truth, he had lost too much and been tossed around too often in the last few months.

“It will be fine, Cathan,” she whispered.

“Will ye take me to Callum?”

“What I will do is speak with him about ye. Nothing can be done until he heals, ye ken, so ye must be patient. Patient and silent.”

“I willnae say anything. I swear.”

She prayed that the vow of a small child was one she could put her trust in.

Chapter Three

Callum opened his eyes and fought to catch his breath. Then he realized he was not in the water, not fighting to get to the surface and precious air, and began to calm down. Slowly, he studied his surroundings as his mind cleared and more memories of the day before returned. He attempted to get up and pain shot through his leg. It was then that he remembered everything. The beating, the river, losing Cathan, and the girl who came to his aid. And, most important, his broken and useless leg.

He braced himself and cautiously pushed his body into a seated position. After studying his leg for a moment, he tightened the ties on the sticks bracing his leg. Then he looked around for something to use as a walking stick only to find the one she had cut for him leaning against the cave wall within easy reach. His little savior had thought of everything.

Except how difficult it was going to be to get up from the floor, he mused. Muttering a curse, he inched himself backward until his back was against the wall and he could use it to help pull himself up. The hardest thing to do was to keep all weight off the foot on his broken leg. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the walking stick and began to move. Once he had relieved himself, he slowly hobbled around the cave. It was a good size and surprisingly well equipped. This cave was being made into a place to live. His rescuer must be planning to leave her home. He wondered if it was because of whoever put those bruises on her.

Finally back at his pallet he began the slow, awkward process of sitting down, which was a bit more painful. A broken leg was a serious problem for him. It ended his search for Cathan and it meant he was stuck in this cave for a long time. He could not even be sure his friends would find him and he was deeply worried about little Cathan. Instinct told him the boy's kinsmen took him in not because they loved him but because they wanted his inheritance. That greed put the child in danger just as it had killed his father. He looked at his bandaged leg and sighed, because he knew he was useless to the child now and would be for a while.

Shifting so that he could sit with his back against the stone, he tried to make plans. There were too many indefinites for that to be a useful exercise, however. After several minutes of useless thinking in circles, his mind centered on the woman who had saved him.

Bethoc Matheson was not hard to think about. She was a pretty little thing. Slim yet curvaceous, long, curly black hair, and wide blue-green eyes. What she also brought was a twinge of recognition yet he was not sure why. He wanted to think on it more as he closed his eyes, feeling tired. Weariness dogged him and he decided he might as well give in to it. If nothing else, a lot of rest was good for healing and he was eager to heal so he could find Cathan and get home.

* * *

It was late and Bethoc cursed as she slipped out of the house, Margaret strapped to her back as always. Her father had been ill in the morning and she had been forced to wait on him hand and foot. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to say a word about how his illness was caused by his own drinking. She knew he would have recovered enough to beat her senseless for the remark. He saw any criticism as a lack of respect.

Now it was the middle of the afternoon and he was finally gone. She would only have a short time to visit with Sir Callum before she had to return to make the night's meal. Walking briskly but not so fast she exhausted herself, she hurried toward the cave.

She was almost there when something stopped her. Off to her right was a horse. It was saddled and had saddle packs yet there appeared to be no one around him. Bethoc walked toward the animal, watching closely for any sign that he had an owner nearby. No one appeared and she began to think she had found Sir Callum's horse.

As she reached the animal's side, it looked at her. “Easy, lad. I think I ken where your owner is,” she said and she was all too aware of its size and the possible threat.

The horse tossed its head and danced to the side. She continued to speak calmly as she reached for its dangling reins, silently praying it would not think to bite her. Once she grasped them, the animal stilled and she dared to stroke its nose. It was a big, strong, mottled-gray gelding and she knew it would win any argument but the longer she stood gently patting him, talking soothingly, the more it calmed down.

She decided that, even though she did not know if it was Sir Callum's horse, it was obviously lost or cast aside, so she would take it to the man. When his leg healed enough to move about more, he would have need of a horse. This one would do as well as his own. It took two tugs on the reins before the animal began to follow her, but once it began it offered no further resistance.

When she reached the opening of the cave, she released the animal, praying it would stay. To her astonishment, the horse was intent on barging its way through the brush she was trying to move. She grabbed its reins the moment she got the brush out of the way and struggled to pull its head down so it could get through the opening.

“Sir Callum,” she called as she struggled to pull the animal through the doorway even as it tried to pull free and race inside.

“Ye found him,” Callum said as he blinked awake from a light doze and was shocked to see Stormcloud. “Stormcloud, go easy. Easy now, boy.”

“He was just standing around. I think he may have been wandering about the place where he last saw ye when he got free of the men. Weel, if the men e'en tried to take him.” She went over to where he sat and set down the basket she had brought with her. “I have something for ye to eat and drink.”

“Thank ye,” he said as he watched her lay out cheese, bread, and cold meat. “Will this nay be missed?”

“Och, nay. One thing we appear to have enough of is food. We are verra fortunate.”

“Aye. So what shall we do with this beast?” he asked, pushing the horse's face away from his food.

“I fear he will need to be kept here. I dinnae think we can leave him outside. If there are men looking for you, the horse could lead them right to you.”

“True and I am in nay condition to fight them.” He scowled at his leg. “I willnae be much use for a good long time.”

“Nay, a month, or three. We but need to keep ye hidden until then. Or”—she frowned—“until ye can stand putting some weight on that foot. When ye can do that without much pain, ye can do more.”

“And when will that happen?”

“I dinnae ken. Six weeks, two months? I fear I havenae had much to do with broken limbs though I learned how to tend them. Colin broke his arm once and we managed but it wasnae a bad break.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I just dinnae ken. I wish I had more knowledge but I dinnae.”

“Ye have done a fine job, lass.” Cautiously, he reached out a hand to take hold of hers and gently squeezed. “And I heal fast. T'will be fine.”

She was startled by how good that gentle hold felt and, disconcerted by that, she stood up, reached for the horse's reins, and pulled him away from Callum. “I will settle him in the rear of the cave. Get this saddle and all off him and wipe him down.”

Callum swore as he watched her work. He hated being helpless. What he did notice, however, was how efficiently she worked all the while keeping a close eye on the little girl. Bethoc was obviously accustomed to work, to watching out for the young ones in her family.

She set the girl down and stepped out of the cave to collect some grass and flowers for the horse. Leaving a small pile of flowers next to Margaret, she dropped the rest in front of Stormcloud. Setting a shovel against the wall, she walked back to him.

“Ye need to be careful, nay do anything too quickly,” she said as she sat down in front of him.

“I ken it. I will be verra careful and cautious,” he promised. “I dinnae wish to slow the healing in any way.”

She nodded. “Good. That is good. Now, I need to ken what happened to ye. I mean, I ken ye were beaten and tossed aside, near drowned, but naught much else. Why were ye here? Why did they want to kill ye?”

“Weel, pour me some cider, if ye would be so kind, and I will tell ye what I can recall. I fear some of it may nay be as clear as ye, or I, would like for I was knocked in the head a lot. Aye, and nearly drowning didnae help. Thank ye,” he said as he accepted a tankard of cider and had a drink.

Taking a drink gave him some time to order his thoughts. Callum was not sure he should mention the boy. She may have saved his life but he knew nothing about her. He could not be sure he could trust her with such knowledge. It could also bring a lot of trouble to her door.

“There were five of them,” he said. “They caught up with me in the clearing down at the base of the trail. I tried to fight them off, even made some progress, but there was a mon I didnae see who swatted me from behind. Once down, weel, it wasnae pretty. They finally broke my leg and tossed me into the river to drown. I dinnae ken what was worse, their laughter or how they grabbed my wounded leg to toss me into the water.” Callum shook his head. “I lost consciousness for a wee while but woke in time to claw my way to the surface. They were gone so I made my way to shore where ye found me.”

“So, they didnae wait to make certain ye were dead?” she asked softly.

“Nay. None too clever of them, was it? I believe they assumed they had succeeded.”

“But what did they want? Your money? Your horse?”

Callum sighed, knowing he was going to have to tell her one of the things he had thought to keep a secret. “Ye could say they wanted my horse and what it was carrying. A boy. A wee lad I was helping.”

Her eyes wide, Bethoc said, “Cathan.”

“How did ye ken that?” he asked, afraid he had just made a terrible mistake.

Bethoc was a little surprised by how his voice had gone hard and cold, but decided to ignore it. “Cathan, who is about four, with big brown eyes?”

“Aye, how do ye ken who he is?”

“Because my father has him. Nay!” She grabbed him by the arm when he tried to get to his feet. “He willnae be hurt, nay badly,” she added softly, and winced at the look he gave her. “My father takes lads and uses them to care for his crops and animals. He has been doing it for years. With Cathan there are now seven. He must have taken the boy from the men though I cannae see how. Or why.”

“He just takes them?”

“I dinnae ken how he obtains them,” she replied, frustration tainting her words. “The boys are all too young when they arrive for them to ken either. At least, none has ever said anything about how they came to be there, only that my father had taken them. I only just fully realized it all, ne'er e'en asked how they got there for fear of my father's anger. I have never given it a thought, e'en though I called them all Brother. It shames me to think of how witless I was.”

“Ye would have been naught but a child yourself,” Callum said quietly.

“In the beginning, but nay always. Yet I still said naught.” She sighed and shook her head. “When I was older I should have questioned.”

“And what would ye have accomplished?”

She frowned at him. “Weel, I would have kenned the truth.” And been heartily beaten for it but she decided that was not something to tell this man.

“But what would ye have done with it? Sent the lads home? They say they dinnae e'en ken if they have one. Would ye go through the whole village asking people if they had lost a boy?”

“He cannae just snatch up a bairn as he pleases and put them to work for him. 'Tis nay right.”

Callum smiled faintly, thinking her quite striking in her outrage. “I ken it and he will, or should be, punished for what he has done.”

“I dinnae see how,” she said. “If they are naught but boys tossed on the streets, who will care? Aye, he took them but all would say he gave them a home and work. Under his harsh fist. Another thing I did naught about.”

Guilt, Callum thought as he fought the urge to stroke her hair. He recognized guilt. He had suffered it often enough. If only for Cathan's sake, he needed to give her some confidence and strength to keep on doing exactly what she had been doing. She had cared for those boys and, he had no doubt, shielded them from her father. He needed to revive that strength.

“Your father beats ye, aye, lass?” he asked quietly. “Ye have the bruises and swelling that comes from some hard slapping. Does it to the boys, too, aye?”

“Aye.” Bethoc tried to show the humiliation she felt over confessing that.

He took a deep breath to still his anger and then took a risk, reaching forward to take her hands in his. “Bethoc, look at me,” he said quietly, and waited until she did. “Ye are a wee lass. I suspicion ye have lived under the mon's fists all your life and learned as a child that the best way was the quiet way. Dinnae say anything that might make him angry. Dinnae do anything that might stir his temper. Aye?”

Bethoc did not want to admit it. Yet, as she stared into his green eyes, she saw understanding. Glancing down at their joined hands, she finally nodded.

“'Tis nay an excuse though,” she muttered.

“Och, 'tis and the best of ones. Children learn the lesson quickly and weel. They learn to be quiet in speech and movement, to do what is ordered quickly, and e'en when to hide. And they often learn to hide verra weel. Dinnae fault yourself for it.”

She looked at him. “Ye seem to ken a lot about such things.”

He smiled fleetingly. “A bit. I have seen a lot in my time. Now, how many lads has your father got?”

“He is nay my father.” She was shocked that she had said that but then realized she had wanted it known.

“Nay your father? Did he take ye as weel?”