Chapter Nineteen

Malcolm and Brendon wasted no time speculating why the signal had been changed – doubtless they'd find out soon enough. Their entire attention had to be on the children they were attempting to rescue.

After hiding their knapsacks near to the MacFarlane boat, Brendon ordered Fergus to stay and guard. Then after giving the wolfhound a quick fuss, he followed Malcolm towards the distant copse of trees bordering the quarry. As soon as they stepped into the trees, nearly twenty minutes later, both men drew their pistols. Once back out in the open, they used the abandoned buildings as cover as they crept towards the mine entrance. Mostly derelict, it was hard to believe any of them had housed mine workers as little as two years back.

After about five minutes, they spotted a dilapidated bothie near to the entrance with a wavering light in the window, even though it was still a couple of hours until dusk. Why the guard had picked possibly the most ramshackle of all the buildings to sleep in was anybody's guess. Perhaps he was afraid of ghosts.

The whole place was unnerving. There was no birdsong and only the distant sound of the loch slapping against the shore broke the silence. Slowly, carefully, they tiptoed towards the lighted window.

‘It's nae yet sundoon, so he'll nae be asleep, ' Brendon whispered, ‘we'll hae tae finish him fast. Afore he haes the chance tae run.' Malcolm nodded, deliberately not questioning the steward's use of the word finish. Whatever needed to be done, they would do it.

By the time they reached the hut, both men were dripping in sweat. Pointing to the entrance, Malcolm, lifted his pistol and held up three fingers. The only thing they had was the element of surprise. That, and the fact that there were two of them.

But according to Finn, the guard left behind was a giant. And a nasty one at that.

Brendon drew his own pistol and nodded. Seconds later, Malcolm kicked in the door, and they stormed inside, only to be confronted by a man the size of Goliath sitting with his booted feet propped up on a rickety table, staring them unconcernedly.

‘What took ye so long?' he questioned without moving a muscle.

∞∞∞

The first thing Jennifer was aware of was a blinding headache. And the second, that she was hanging upside down over a moving horse. Seconds later, she felt her stomach cramp as she emptied its meagre contents all over the animal"s forelegs.

Slowly she managed to turn her head enough to see a man walking next to the horse. Who was he? She stared down at her hands; both were tied firmly at the wrists. She moved her ankles experimentally. The same. White hot fear swamped her, and she had to fight the urge to cast up her account again. How had she ended up here?

Trying to ignore the pain, she thought back to the last thing she remembered. The croft, returning to her horse, and then … somebody had hit her over the head. Was it the man leading her horse? Clearly he meant her ill. But surely if he'd wanted her dead, he'd have already done the deed. Slowly, she turned her head again and was able to make out the man's features. It was the footman she'd been following.

What an idiot she'd been. Why the devil hadn't she listened to Felicity? She was reasonably sure the man was taking her to MacFarlane. If nothing else, she would be a good bargaining piece. Would Brendon and Malcolm see them pass? Unlikely. It was clear the footman had taken a little-known path to avoid being seen. Pain lanced her head again, and she allowed her head to hang back down against the mare's flank. Slowly she became aware that the horse was limping. Likely she'd caught a stone, and that was the reason Murray wasn't riding. She felt a surge of hope. She had no idea what the time was, but if he'd been riding, they might very well have reached the MacFarlane Clan home by now. She couldn't see where they were but knew for certain they were no longer on the Lochside.

Forcing down the fear at the thought of being completely alone with the traitor, she agonised over what to do. Should she let her captor know she was awake? Her mouth was parched and her stomach cramping. At the very least, he might give her some water.

The decision was taken out of her hands as the horse stopped and she observed a pair of feet walk round the front of the horse, stopping in front of her. ‘Are ye awake, ma lady?'

Jennifer saw no point in pretending otherwise, and managed to croak, ‘Have you any water?'

‘Nae, but if ye promise not tae dae anythin' stupid, Ah'll get ye doon off th'horse.' Jennifer nodded her head. Anything that would delay their journey for a little longer.

Pain lanced through her head as he dragged her forwards. For a second she thought he was going to simply allow her to fall onto the ground, but at the last minute, he took her weight and laid her on the grass. For a few seconds, she kept her eyes tightly shut, willing the agony to recede. The varmint must have hit her hard. Finally, she managed to open her eyes. Turning her head, she saw Murray sitting on the grass beside her, staring into the distance.

‘Where are you taking me?' she whispered. For a second he didn't react, and she thought he hadn't heard her. She began the question again, only to stop as he turned his head to look down at her.

‘Ah'm takin' ye tae the MacFarlane, but ye must know that,' he answered impassively. ‘Ah'm sorry aboot yer head, but ye be an eejit tae follow me, ma lady.'

She couldn't argue with that, and ridiculously, Jennifer had to smother a sudden urge to laugh. What a deuced mess she'd made of things.

Closing her eyes again, she remembered the conversation she'd overheard. Neither servant had seemed overly keen to bring themselves to their Clan chief's attention, but once he'd had the altercation with MacNee, Murray clearly believed he had no choice.

‘Will your chief kill me?' she asked, hoping to exploit his obvious reluctance. He turned his head away.

‘You don't have to do this,' she continued when he didn't answer. ‘My family will reward you well if you return me to Caerlaverock.'

‘Wi' a rope roond ma neck,' he scoffed without looking down at her.

‘They don't have to know that you hit me,' Jennifer insisted. ‘I'll say I fell off the horse, that you found me and brought me back.'

For a second, she thought she'd got through to him, then he turned to her with a sneer. ‘Ye'd say anythin' tae get me tae gae back tae Caerlaverock. But once yer back in the bosom o' yer precious family, ye'll toss me tae the bloody lions wi'oot a care.'

Jennifer stared at him, realising that nothing she said would sway him. He'd made up his mind. There was only one thing for it. She would have to escape.

∞∞∞

‘Ah'm thinkin' naither o' ye be bampots,' the guard went on, ‘so ah'll get tae the point. Ah ken ye be here fer the bairns. As soon as ah let Finn gae, ah kenned it was only a matter o' time afore ye turned up.'

‘Ye let him gae?' Brendon asked incredulously.

‘Aye. Dae ye think me a bloody eejit. That ah cannae coont? Ah kenned he were missin' an' ah seen him hidin'.'

Malcolm scoffed. ‘According to the lad, ye treated him terrible. Him and all of the children. Why the bloody hell would you let him escape?'

‘Oh ah dinnae care aboot the bairns,' the warrior assured them, ‘but ah dae care aboot ma Clan.' He sighed and put his feet to the floor. In response, both Brendon and Malcolm raised their pistols, but the guard didn't get to his feet.

‘The MacFarlane be off his heid. Using bairns to bring a piddlin amoont o' gold is nae worth it. The mine is finished, but he willnae hear o' it. Keeps me here to avoid listenin' tae wha' ah hae tae say.' He looked round at the shack. ‘There be nae honour in this,' he bit out. ‘Ah might nae care aboot the bairns but ah dinnae want tae keep buryin' em aither. Sooner or later what the MacFarlane be daein will be common knowledge an' our whole Clan'll be finished.' He shook his head. ‘Ah cannae hae that.'

‘So what are ye gaunnae dae aboot it?' Brendon asked.

‘Ah kenned ye'd come fer the bairns, and ye can take ‘em wi' ma blessin',' the guard told them. ‘Dae what ye like wi ‘em. Ma beef be wi' the MacFarlane himself. He's nae fit tae lead a clan an' ah intend tae take it off him.'

‘What do you want from us in return for the children?' Malcolm asked astutely.

‘Ah dinnae want any interference. An ah want the Laird tae recognise me as the MacFarlane. Properly.'

‘I cannae speak for the Duke,' Malcolm retorted.

‘Then ye'd better shoot me,' the warrior answered. ‘An let the bairns die slowly while the air poisons.' He stared at them both. ‘Ah've hidden the keys. An' ye'll nae find ‘em afore the air turns bad.'

Brendon narrowed his eyes. ‘You bastart,' he grated.

‘Aye, you be right as it happens,' the warrior chuckled. ‘But ah be a MacFarlane bastart.'

‘How do we know you'll be a better chieftain than Alistair MacFarlane?' Malcolm asked.

‘Ye don't,' the guard answered with a shrug. ‘But ah cannae be any worse. An' ah swear ah'll leave ye and yours alone, if ye dae the same.'

Brendon looked over at Malcolm. He knew the decision had to be the older man's, but he had no idea what that choice would be. The steward knew that underneath his companion's affable exterior was a will of steel. Malcolm Mackenzie's loyalty first and foremost would always be to the Sinclair family. And he would never put any of them in jeopardy.

After about two minutes, Malcolm wiped his brow with the back of his gun-free hand and nodded.

‘Swear,' the guard insisted.

‘I swear the Laird will leave you and yours alone, if you dae the same,' Malcolm repeated. ‘And you'll be recognised as the new Chieftain o' the MacFarlane Clan.' He paused before adding wryly, ‘Though it might be helpful if ye told me yer name.'

The warrior nodded, satisfied. ‘It be Duncan. Duncan MacFarlane. Slowly he climbed to his feet. ‘Come wi' me.'

∞∞∞

‘Dougal?' The Reverend stood shivering in his sodden cassock, peering into the murky water. He'd surfaced a minute or so ago, and so far there was no sign of the old Scot.

Augustus Shackleford felt like crying. How the deuce was he going to get off the island if old Dougal had kicked the bucket? And now there was an actual possibility the chucklehead was dead, well, the clergyman felt unaccountably wretched.

After another few seconds, he waded carefully back into the loch, shouting ‘Dougal?' Abruptly a cascade of water was tossed up into the air as the old Scot surfaced abruptly, triumphantly holding something in the air.

‘Ah foond it,' Dougal spluttered. ‘Ah foond the bloody treasure.'

‘What the deuce are you talking about,' the Reverend answered crossly, irritation warring with unexpected relief.

Dougal waded ashore and held out his hand. Reverend Shackleford peered at the object lying in the middle of the Scot's palm. ‘It looks like a ring?'

‘Aye, it does. An' there be lots more where that came frae. Ah reckon they were in a satchel o' some kind, until the hide perished.'

The two men stared at each other. In the end, the Reverend said it first. ‘You think this is Edward Colman's?'

‘Aye, ah dae,' Dougal grinned.

‘What are the odds?' Reverend Shackleford found himself grinning back. ‘Who'd have thought our letter could be so close to the truth?'

‘We cannae leave it,' Dougal continued.

The Reverend bit his lip. ‘You really think it's Colman's?'

‘Tae be honest, ah dinnae care. All ah ken is ah saw lots o' other pieces o' jewellery on the bottom o' the loch. The bag must nae hae broke long back else the gold would hae drifted doon deep long afore noo. If we wait, it'll be lost foreye.'

Right then, we'll keep looking. There's no point in keeping watch over the mine. If there's another deuced guard, we've no way of letting them know anyway. I will warn you, I swim like deuced rock, so I'll not be much help.'

Dougal grinned. ‘Ye stand uptae ye knees in the loch, an hold oot yer robe, like so.' He bent his arms into a bowl-like shape. ‘An' ah'll dae the hard work.'

‘It's deuced cold though, Augustus Shackleford muttered. ‘I'll catch an ague if I'm stood in there too long.

‘It'll be bloody colder come gloamin',' Dougal answered, ‘an' then the bits o' ye oot o' the water'll be a midgie banquet.'

The Reverend grimaced. ‘Best get on with it then,' was all he said. ‘We want to be off this damned rock before dusk.'

∞∞∞

Brendon and Malcolm watched with trepidation as Duncan MacFarlane unlocked the entrance to the mine. Despite their bargain, neither man had lowered their pistol. Indeed, MacFarlane didn't appear to expect them to.

As the warrior stepped into the gloom, they could see the remains of rudimentary machinery that had clearly been used in the past. Ignoring it, MacFarlane picked up a lantern, lit it with a flint and tinder and led them down a set of steep stairs cut into the rock. In unspoken agreement, Brendon hung back, keeping his pistol trained down the stairs. Malcolm too gave the warrior a wide berth. The real danger would come when the children actually came out of their so called sleeping quarters. The guard could easily use the bairns as a shield.

The shadows cast grotesque shapes on the walls as MacFarlane hung the lantern onto a hook driven into the stone, revealing a small door set into the rock. Malcolm remained six feet away, his pistol pointing steadily at the warrior's head.

Seconds later, MacFarlane inserted a key into the door and pushed it open. ‘Get ye here,' he ordered, his voice loud and forbidding. For a few seconds nothing happened, then slowly Malcom heard the sound of movement, and he stared in horror as the children filed out of the pitch-black room, squinting in the meagre light of the lantern.

‘Get ye up the stairs,' MacFarlane ordered, raising his hand to cuff a small girl who wasn't moving quickly enough. Malcolm raised his weapon.

‘You willnae lay another hand on these bairns,' he warned his voice low and furious, ‘if ye dae, bargain or nae bargain, I'll blow yer bastart head off.'

Duncan MacFarlane stared up at him impassively for a second, then he shrugged.

Malcolm stepped to one side, allowing the children to climb past him. They eyed him apprehensively as they filed upwards, but the Scot never took his eyes off the warrior below. ‘They be comin' up tae ye, Bren,' he called. ‘Get ‘em outside.'

As the last child exited the room, Malcolm had a sudden sick premonition. ‘Is that all o' ‘em?' he asked. MacFarlane shrugged again.

‘Go into the room.' For a second, the warrior's eyes widened in fear.

‘I'm nae gaunnae lock yer sorry arse up,' Malcolm growled, ‘Though, in truth, I'm sorely tempted. I want tae check nobody's been left behind.'

Hesitantly, MacFarlane stepped backwards into the doorway, just as Malcolm reached the bottom of the steps.

‘Go inside.' Nostrils flaring at the commanding tone, the guard stepped into the room.

‘Can ye see anybody?' Malcolm asked. He stepped to the side, better to see in the darkened chamber. To his horror, it resembled a small priest hole. He hadn't counted the children coming up the steps, but he knew they wouldn't have had enough space to sleep without curling up into small balls. He swallowed, fighting the urge to simply shoot the bastard and be done with it.

As his eyes became accustomed to the blackness inside the room, he discerned a small shape. ‘Come tae me, lad,' he requested hoarsely. ‘We've come tae get ye out o' here.'

Slowly the shape became a head and a body. ‘Ah nae be a lad,' a small voice responded. There was a pause. ‘Ah cannae walk wi ma leg.'

‘Pick her up,' Malcolm ordered the warrior. ‘He willnae hurt ye, sweetheart,' he added as the small figure gave a frightened gasp.

With an impatient sound, MacFarlane went into the room and picked the girl up none too gently. ‘Up the stairs wi' her,' Malcolm commanded, waving his gun towards their only exit. The little girl's nearly silent sobs were cutting him in two. He was beginning to feel as though he was down in the bowels of hell itself.

He followed MacFarlane up the stairs and out into the early evening light. All in all there were twenty-two children. All emaciated and filthy dirty.

‘Dinnae forget our bargain,' MacFarlane demanded, clearly seeing murder in the other men's eyes. ‘Ye might think me a bastart, but ah didnae put the bairns doon there an' it wasnae my decision to work ‘em tae death. Despite what ye be thinkin' o' me, ye have ma word that the mine'll be closed. There'll be nae more.' He looked around him and shook his head before repeating, ‘There be nae honour in this.' He handed the small girl into Brendon's waiting arms.

‘Ah'm gaen back intae the bothie noo,' he stated. ‘The MacFarlane willnae ken what happened here until the morra. An' by then, his days as Chief'll be ower.'

‘Dae ye hae any support?' Brendon couldn't help asking. ‘Ye cannae take on the whole Clan by yerself.'

Duncan MacFarlane gave a fierce grin. ‘Dae ye think me a reckless eejit? The Clan will be mine by sundoon.' And with that, he turned his back and walked away.