Taken By Storm (3 page)

D
unwith had once been a thriving village surrounded by tenant farms, all owned by the landlord whose manor house sat on a rise looking down over the land. Like many villages throughout Scotland, it had repeatedly suffered poor harvests. Poverty and famine were driving thousands to flee Scotland for the promise of rich land and bountiful harvests elsewhere.

Some Scots had left years earlier and had found that promise in America. Burke wondered if Storm had ever considered joining the throngs of disillusioned Scots.

“Stay here,” Storm ordered, catching his attention. “I’ll be right back.”

Burke watched her disappear into the dense woods after she took the rolled bedding Tanin carried. He wondered what she was up to, but he didn’t
ask. Instead he had watched her actions and had begun to learn about her.

Storm knew the forest as if she were part of it, as if they beat to the same pulse. She never stopped to make certain her direction was accurate. She paced her steps and maneuvered around the trees and hills, never faltering in her footing.

“Storm handles herself well,” Tanin said, drawing his attention.

“She’s just a pint-sized thing. You would never expect—”

“She counts on people thinking her fragile.”

“I have to ask you,” Burke said. “Didn’t she ever think of looking for a better life elsewhere?”

“You mean emigrate like so many have been forced to do?”

Burke nodded. “Exactly. What does she have here?”

“Her dignity and her home,” Tanin answered with pride. “Storm couldn’t watch helpless as her people suffered. She took action and was immediately forced into the thick of things.”

“And into the thick of danger,” Burke reminded him with concern.

“It was her choice.”

“Was it?”

The crunch of leaves alerted them to Storm’s approach. He turned to greet her and was struck speechless. She was dressed in a brown skirt, long-sleeved tan blouse, and brown wool vest. A deep green shawl hung loosely over her shoulders and around her arms, and her black hair bounced in
waves around her lovely face with each step she took.

That she was a beautiful woman was undeniable.

“Ready,” she said, handing Tanin the rolled bedding to carry at his side.

“So this is the real Storm,” Burke said with a smile.

“Don’t be so sure.” Storm grinned and bent down to dust her hands with dirt. She applied some to her face here and there, though to Burke it did nothing to mar her beauty.

“Disguise?” Burke asked.

“We’re weary, hungry travelers in search of food. We need to look the part if we want to be trusted and so my friends are not made suspicious when we speak with them.”

Burke nodded at her sensible reasoning, though he didn’t need to copy her actions. His face was already grime-ridden. He couldn’t wait to wash the dirt off him.

“We stay no more than thirty minutes,” Storm said.

“Is that enough time to find out about my brother?”

“If we haven’t found out anything by then, we won’t, and I won’t place us in jeopardy.”

Burke didn’t respond, though he would have liked to tell her that he intended to stay longer if it meant it would help him find his brother. But that was his impatience gnawing at him. Storm was right, and he’d defer to her orders—this time.

The people cast suspicious glances at them when
they entered the village. Some even stood guard over what little crop was left to harvest in their gardens. Lack of food was obvious in their gaunt faces, and hopelessness weighed heavy on slumped shoulders.

Burke was reminded of a similar scene, when one especially hard winter had hit the Dakota Territory and crops were slow in harvesting if they harvested at all. He had ridden with his tracker friend who had been raised in the white world but whose mother had been full-blooded Sioux to see how the village had fared.

It hadn’t, and much work was needed to help the people recover, and to make certain they didn’t suffer again.

“You need food?” a stout woman asked, walking over to Storm.

“We would be grateful for any you could spare,” Storm said softly, her head bowed.

“I have bread and mead to share,” the woman offered. “Follow me.”

“Accept the mead, not the bread, “Storm murmured to Burke before entering the small cottage the woman took them to.

Tears pooled in the woman’s green eyes. “You are safe, Storm, thank God. We had heard you had been captured.”

Storm laughed and gave her a hug. “Please, Hannah, you insult me.”

Hannah giggled. “I told John you would never be caught. The heavens protect you.”

“Where is that husband of yours?” Storm asked,
casting a quick glance around the single, sparse room.

Hannah brushed at her falling tears. “Taking his life in his hands so that we do not starve.” She shook her head. “The fool is hunting on the earl’s property.”

“Tanin,” Storm said, though the tall man was already at the door.

“What direction did he go in?”

Hannah blessed Tanin after telling him where to find her husband, and Storm told him to meet her in the woods when he finished.

Burke waited silently. Storm obviously knew what she was doing and it would not do him any good to interfere. Besides, he marveled at her compassion and understanding.

He had been furious the day he rode into the Sioux camp and found people starving, no food to be found. The little food he had brought with him had still been offered to him first, for it would have been rude for them not to share what little they had, just as Hannah did now.

He wished he had money with him so that he could give her enough to flee this wasteful life and start new in America, on his ranch if necessary.

“I need your help,” Storm said, taking Hannah’s hand and sitting at the table with her.

“Whatever I can do for you,” Hannah obliged, and filled two tankards with mead from the pitcher on the table.

“I search for a man,” Storm said, handing a tankard to Burke. “His name is Cullen Longton.”

Burke stood beside Storm, since there were only two chairs.

“I was told he may have passed through here, and there may be a bounty on him.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “There was a man accused of poaching on Dunwith land, but he was taken to Glencurry.”

“Why?” Storm asked.

Burke didn’t like the tone of her “why.” Something was wrong.

Hannah shook her head. “None understood why. If he poached on Dunwith land, then here is where he should be tried and convicted, but he was whisked away.”

Burke took a step forward, but Storm’s hand shot out and jabbed at his thigh. He heeded her warning and stood still, fighting the urge to question the woman.

“More mead?” Hannah asked Burke.

He nodded and held out his tankard.

“When did this occur?” Storm asked.

“Three, maybe four weeks ago.”

“Do you know for certain if his name was Cullen?” Storm asked.

“I cannot say for certain, but the name does sound familiar.”

Storm stood. “We must go.” She took Hannah’s hand and dropped several coins in it.

“I cannot,” Hannah protested. “There are those needier than me.”

“And this man beside me has agreed to help them, leaving you free to accept this gift.”

Burke finally spoke. “Storm is right.”

Hannah wept, hugging the coins to her chest. “You are a godsend, Storm.”

“Some claim I’m the devil.” She laughed.

“No, an angel. This will feed my family and others. God bless.”

After quick hugs and more tears, Storm and Burke took their leave and made their way to the woods unnoticed.

“We wait for Tanin,” Storm said, pacing the forest floor, the crunch of leaves distinct beneath her booted feet.

“You’re upset. Why?”

Storm stopped pacing. “It makes no sense that this man was taken to Glencurry. His crime was here in Dunwith.”

Burke reached out and took hold of her arms. “What’s wrong with that?”

Her hesitation upset Burke even more, but the rustle of branches had them both taking cover. Burke wrapped his arm around her slim waist and dragged her behind a thick bush. Her waist was tiny. He could practically wrap his arm clear around it. How she swung a sword, he’d never know. There was strength in her small frame and feminine curves that reminded him that she was a woman, a woman who felt good in his arms.

He wanted to hold on to her, offering security, safety, sanctuary.

She, however, broke free once she saw that it was Tanin.

“Food is stored for them where none will find it
and there is enough to feed more families,” Tanin said, holding the rolled bedding out to her.

Storm nodded and took the bedding, disappearing into the woods.

“You found what you needed?” Tanin asked.

“We found that we may have to go to Glencurry,” Burke said.

Tanin’s head jerked, his eyes turned wide.

“Glencurry seems to cause an adverse reaction in people. Why?” Burke asked.

“Earl of Balford at Glencurry is not a man you want to deal with,” Tanin advised.

“Why?”

“He cares little for human suffering.”

“Then my brother could suffer at his hands?”

“More than he can humanly endure.”

Burke grew alarmed. There was no way in hell he’d let an earl or a duke or whatever some such nonsense-titled man harm his brother.

“How far is Glencurry from here?”

“Two, two and half days.”

“Then we leave right away,” Burke said.

“No, we return to camp,” Storm said, tossing the rolled bedding to Tanin and once again clothed as a young lad, stocking cap and all.

Burke approached her. “I need to get to my brother.”

“We need to make certain your brother is at Glencurry,” Storm argued. “It will do us little good to go there uncertain and without a plan. When we go, we go to free him.”

Burke wanted to argue but there was nothing to
argue. She was right. If he charged in there like a fool, he could wind up imprisoned as well. What good would that do?

“I will send men to find out all they can. Then we will decide what is to be done,” Storm said and turned. “Come. We need to get back to camp. There is work to be done.”

Burke didn’t want to follow. He wanted to head in the opposite direction and demand to see his brother, if it was indeed his brother, and then he would demand his brother be freed or he’d buy his way out of prison. One way or another, he intended to free Cullen, his brother, and take him home to America. He had promised his father, and he intended to keep his promise. Besides, he wanted to get to know his brother; he was all the family Burke had left.

Nightfall found them camped behind a large boulder, a single fish serving as their meal. Storm ate little, though Burke insisted she eat more. She insisted she wasn’t hungry, and he wondered if that was her standard response when little food was available.

Tanin was quick to seek his bed. Burke realized he was a man of few words but of great courage and compassion and a man who thought highly of Storm. He wondered what had brought the pair together and what bond kept them together.

Burke approached Storm where she sat perched on the edge of a boulder, staring into the night.

“Tell me of the Earl of Balford.”

Storm didn’t even turn and acknowledge him.

“He is not a man of his word.”

“You’ve dealt with him before?”

“Yes, to my regret,” she said.

Sorrow clearly filled her voice and Burke ventured to guess, “You lost a man to him?”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly and looked about to say more, but remained silent.

Burke waited, giving her time, realizing the memory hadn’t been a pleasant one and that perhaps she didn’t wish to recall any more of it.

She took a breath and continued. “He has a small dungeon beneath his manor house. He imprisons tenants on whatever charges he creates—”

She paused, and Burke wondered how many such painful memories she must have endured while helping people.

She sighed and went on. “He then charges the families for the food and the cell.”

“What if the family has no money?”

“The prisoner starves to death and then the family is charged to remove his body or it’s tossed in the woods for the animals to feed on.”

While the information disgusted Burke, it also gave him a shred of hope. “Then there’s a good chance I can buy my brother’s freedom.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Why?”

“That someone who poached on Dunwith land was taken to Glencurry for imprisonment doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“That’s what we need to find out, but first we have to determine if it’s your brother being held at Glencurry.”

“Tanin and I can go and find out,” Burke suggested, anxious that his brother might need his help this very minute and he was wasting precious time.

“No. I will send what men I choose.”

“I will not see my brother suffer,” Burke said firmly. “If I go and discover it is Cullen, I can make immediate arrangements to have him freed.”

“How? You have no money.”

That stopped Burke, but only for a moment. “I’ll make certain the earl understands that he’ll receive plenty of money in two weeks.”

“In which time your brother will more than likely starve if he hasn’t already.”

Burke raked his hair with his fingers in frustration. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“You’re not,” Storm assured him. “If my men ascertain it is your brother and they believe they can easily free him, then they will do so and return to camp with him.”

“I want to be part of the rescue,” Burke insisted.

“You would only be a hindrance. You are not familiar with Glencurry land or the manor itself. I will send men who know it well. The best thing you can do for your brother is to wait here.”

“You ask a lot.”

“I give a lot—your brother’s freedom.”

Burke reluctantly admitted to himself that she made sense but it didn’t ease his annoyance. He made one more attempt. “I could wait along the trail.”

“You can wait at camp, and that settles it.”

Burke held his tongue, realizing she tested him.
Would he follow her orders or not? If he didn’t, would she refuse to help him any further? He wouldn’t take a chance with his brother’s life. He would do as she instructed though it rankled him.