The Rogues (15 page)

Lachlan chewed on his lip. Then he gave me a sidelong glance. There was that old glint in his eye again, and I thought:
Ye like my idea, brother
. I nodded at him, and he nodded back.

“We'll get a good night's sleep now,” Da said, his voice strained. He gestured around the rocks. “These will serve us for the night. We'll need to be well rested for the journey ahead.”

“It's no night yet,” I protested. Indeed, with the sky cleared of the smoke, it hardly looked to be time for supper.

But the evening chill drew in, and Ishbel passed out another blanket she'd salvaged from the cottage. One for her and Da, one for Lachlan and me. It was amazing what she'd managed to jam into that bundle before leaving the house. If only she'd been able to bring the Blessing along too. But of course she had never seen it, not believed in it, so wouldn't have gone looking for it. But me, I always knew it was there. I'd always known.

“Never mind there are but two blankets,” she said. “Ye boys will be warmer if you huddle together under the one blanket.”

Lachlan and I needed no second telling. Many a hard winter we'd done as much back in the cottage on our shared bed.

“Ye and I had best do likewise,” Ishbel told Da.

“That would hardly be seemly,” Da said uneasily.

“Seemly to who, ye daft man?” said Ishbel. “There's nobody here to gossip. Or do ye not care if I freeze in the night?”

“I care right enough,” Da admitted. He let Ishbel squeeze up close to him and wrapped the blanket around them both. “But that's all we're doing, mind. Keeping off the chill.”

“Aye, I'll mind that,” said Ishbel. But there was a strange softness in her eyes as she looked away from him.

I curled up under my blanket, my body clenching like an angry fist. Twitching about on the rough earth, I did my best to fall asleep.

However, I couldn't sleep at all. I kept having thoughts of Ma looking down on us from heaven, willing me to go back and fetch her treasure. I could almost hear her voice, gentle where Ishbel's was brash. “It's my gift to ye, to all of ye, to see ye happy in the New World.”

Why couldn't Da or Ishbel see that if we had the Blessing, it would buy us all we would need to start a new life in America? It was as clear to me as the sun on a summer's morning.

I could feel Lachlan's back pressed against mine, and I knew by his steady breathing that he was asleep. Not far off, Da's low snoring drowned out any sound Ishbel might be making, but I was sure that after this long day's trek, she would be as deeply asleep as he.

Slowly and carefully I wriggled away from Lachlan and slipped out from under the blanket. As I did so, he rolled over in my direction and grunted, somehow aware that something was amiss. His eyes flickered open, searching the darkness. He was about to speak when I clapped my hand over his mouth.

“Shhh!” I hissed in his ear. “Ye'll wake Da and he'll no be pleased.”

“What are ye planning, Roddy?” he asked in a groggy whisper.

There was nothing I could do but tell him the truth. It was that or give up.

Before I could speak, an owl on silent wings, a shadow's shadow, flew across the path. Seeking, hunting. I took it for a sign.

“I'm away back to Dunraw,” I said. “I'm going to find the Blessing.”

I had to press my hand to his lips again to keep him from crying out. He pried my fingers away but kept his voice low.

“We've been through that, Roddy. Ye heard what Da and Ishbel said. It's a story for wee bairns.”

“Do ye really think Ma would lie to us?” I asked. “Is there not a sma' piece of yer heart telling ye the story is true?”

He hesitated at that. It was mean of me to mention Ma, knowing how that always affected him, but it did the trick. “Aye, I suppose there is. But that disnae mean ye're going to find it after all this time. We never found it, no once, and no for lack of trying.”

That was certainly true. After Ma had died, Da had looked for the Blessing everywhere in a fever of activity—amongst her meager belongings, all about the trees where she liked to walk, under the bedding, in the small byre where the cattle and Rob Roy stayed—and he found nothing.

“I'll find it this time,” I insisted in a harsh whisper. “Now is the time she meant us to have it.”

“Are ye sure it's the Blessing ye're going back for and not something else?” Lachlan asked, sitting up with the blanket wrapped around him.

“What do ye mean?”

“Only that Bonnie Josie's been on yer mind all these past days, like a moth flitting about the fire.”

I bristled. “I dinna think of her that way. She's years older than me. And a laird's daughter as well. I'd
never
think of her that way. Not like you and the Beauty of Glendoun. Only Josie helped us. She saved you and me from Willie Rood and got us our cows back. That's all.”

Lachlan leaned close to me, keeping his voice low. “Aye, that's as may be, but her troubles are still her own, and it's no for the likes of us to poke our noses into her business.”

Something moved in the hill above us. Deer or rabbit or fox—we couldn't tell. But Lachlan pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

“I'm going for the Blessing,” I said stubbornly, “and that's all.”

“Promise me that, then,” said Lachlan, grasping my arm, “and I'll no wake Da and Ishbel.”

“I promise ye, Lachlan, I'm doing this for the good of the family. Ye keep them going on to Glasgow and I'll find ye there.”

Slowly he relaxed his grip on me. “And if ye dinna come?”

“Then the family will be better off for having one less mouth to feed.” I said it as if I meant it, but my stomach knew better. It had an ache in it that felt as if I'd been dealt a blow.

Lachlan's brow furrowed, then he nodded his agreement. I reached out to give him a quick, clumsy embrace, feeling the warmth of the blanket. Then I started off.

I heard him whisper after me, “Good luck, Roddy.”

Looking back, I gave him a final wave. I knew I'd need all the luck he wished me—and more.

15 THE RETURN

I hoped to be long gone before Da and Ishbel woke, so far away that they couldn't even think to follow me.

At first I wound my way over the hills and through the gullies we had crossed to reach our makeshift campsite. There was a good half-moon, and it made a shining path for me, miles on either side. I spied rabbits leaping about on the hillsides. “Dancing for the moon,” Ma used to call it.

Without Da's slowing the pace, I was able to go at a good clip, stopping only to catch my breath every hour or so. One stop, as I stood between two separate stands of trees, I listened to the call of a single owl and then a second owl answering him from the right, like two old friends singing a duet.

Renewed, I went on. Luckily I was on a single path. But then I came to a fork in the road, leading to other villages, other glens. I hadn't been paying attention as we stumbled along. All we'd worried about was putting enough space between us and Rood's men.

“Which turn should I take?” I wondered aloud, my voice strange in the night's stillness.

I hadn't thought before how easy it might be to get lost when the contours of the land are suddenly strange. Even if there were landmarks that could have guided me, how was I going to recognize them in the shadowy hills? Now the moon was straight overhead, so I couldn't even tell east from west. And when I looked up at the stars, glittering coldly above me, I wished that I had a sailor's skill to read them like a map.

Even as I made that wish, clouds began rolling in to cover the stars, turning the moon into a smear of grey light, plunging the landscape into deeper shadows. I felt utterly alone, with no hope of finding my way. I turned round and about trying to decide which way to go.

Ishbel had been right. I was following a wee bairn's story, a tale I desperately wanted to believe in. And like the fairy piper in one of Ma's old stories, it was going to lead me to my death.

I began to shiver. For the first time I thought about turning back. And I would have, if only I could tell which way back was.

As I paused in mid-step, a breeze gusted into my face and I smelled the faint but unmistakable hint of smoke in the air. I sniffed, and there it was again. It could only be coming from the burnt-out homes and fields of Dunraw. It was like a signpost to the road home.

Turning to face the direction of the wind, I began to follow the sooty smell back to its source. I pressed on through the dark, pausing now and then to test the air and make sure of my way.

Now the clouds dropped a light drizzle, which gradually turned into a steady rain. The grass and stones beneath my feet grew slick and treacherous, and the muddy ground sucked at my boots. It was too cold and rainy for owls to call, too cold for rabbits.

My legs ached from all the walking. My calves were sore to the touch. Now the rain made it hard to catch the scent of burning, but it was better to go slowly than to give up.

I'd been awake for hours by that time, with only that scant meal to keep me going. My sodden clothes hung heavy on me, and I began to stumble more and more, tripping on roots, catching my boot tips in holes. I worried that I would end up flat on my face with a twisted ankle, unable to carry on to Dunraw and equally unable to crawl back to my family.

Still I pressed on until finally a wrong step toppled me into a deep bowl-shaped depression in the heather. There I curled up, wrapping my arms around my knees to ward off the cold. The wet, the chill, and my hunger made me forget about the Blessing. All I wanted to do was sleep and wake to a morning's breakfast with my family.

Drifting off, I remembered being four years old with Ma pulling a blanket over Lachlan and me and giving us each a good-night kiss on the brow. It had been a hard winter during which many of our cattle had died. We found it hard to sleep for the nagging of our bellies, but Da said we had to make what food we had last until the spring.

“Dinna ye worry, my bonnie bairns,” Ma had crooned to us. “There's a Blessing I've kept for ye that will see us through when we need it most. Ye just keep the hope in yer heart like a wee spark of fire, and when the time is right, the flames will rise again.”

As her words came back to me, I forced my eyes open and spotted a glimmer of grey light squeezing over the eastern hills. Had I slept and dreamed of Ma, or had the memory sustained me till sunrise?

Suddenly I knew it didn't matter which. The dawn was here at last, and the sight of it was enough to poke me on. I got to my feet, ignoring the aching of my legs, the dampness of my shirt and breeks. The rain was thinning to a damp haze that cleared as the sun rose.

Looking around, I recognized the outlines of familiar hills. They were like the faces of old friends welcoming me back. There was Caer Ludden with its knobby peak, and there was Maggs Law, where they said a witch had been stoned to death long ago. I grinned and waved at them.

That's when I saw the first of the burnt-out crofts. Nestled on the side of the road, with its byre snugged up close, I recognized it only by the stone chimney with the black cap on top, for there was little else to know it by. It had belonged to the McDiarmids, an aging couple with two scrawny daughters and a son that was soft in the head. I didn't like to think how they'd be faring now that they were homeless.

A fox darted from cover, dashed through the ruins and out of sight. He was as much an intruder as I, and if I was to survive this dangerous adventure, I knew I'd have to be as quick and cunning as he.

I kept to the shadow of the hillside, using trees and rocks for cover. Since I was on Kindarry land now, I had to be wary. The laird's men might still be scouring the glen, searching for stragglers. I would need the fox's guile to reach Dunraw, make my search and get away safe with the Blessing tucked inside my shirt.

Lack of sleep was making me weary, and my temples ached. Suddenly a mist passed before my eyes, a kind of dizziness. I shook with cold as if I'd been plunged into an icy pool. I had to get hold of myself, so I leaned back against a stunted tree and took one, two, three deep breaths to steady myself.

“Just a wee bit farther,” I said aloud, my own voice but Da's words. It worked like an old granny's charm. Gradually the haze lifted from my eyes and I stopped shaking. But I was still cold, as if mountain streams ran through my veins instead of blood.

A few more breaths and I was ready to carry on. It couldn't be far now. The McDiarmids lived only about an hour down the glen from us.

As I went along, my head was pounding so hard that all I could do was place one foot in front of the other over and again, squinting to keep my eyes focused on some familiar object up ahead. And all of a sudden, I stumbled into Dunraw and was almost through it before I even realized I'd reached my goal.

Turning around slowly, I surveyed the scene. Naught but blackened ruins and scattered debris. That heap of smoldering ruins had been Hamish Kinnell's cottage and byre. If not for the still fresh smell of burning, I'd have thought no one had lived here for a century. The laird's men had done their dark work well.

A crow landed on a charred stump of wood and cocked its head at me suspiciously, fluttering ragged black feathers. Then it let out a loud caw, as if I were a trespasser in this dead place.

In spite of the crow's warning I carried on to the remains of our own cottage on a different road out of the town. A last turn of that road and I gasped. Even having seen the other ruins, I was not prepared for it.

All that remained of the place where I'd been born and raised for fifteen years was a blackened shell. Those stone walls, once so sturdy they'd kept the deep winter winds from blowing in on us, had been broken to half their normal height. They looked so flimsy now, a stiff breeze could have scattered them.

As in Glendoun, I'd a sense that ghosts haunted the place, only this time me and mine were the ghosts. I could almost hear Ishbel tutting over her darning, smell her freshly baked bannocks, hear Da shouting at Lachlan and me to stop our squabbling. The wind through the trees sounded like Ma when she sang us to sleep. For an instant, I thought I glimpsed myself, leaping over one of the rocks in a nearby burn, splashing in the water with a careless whoop.