by Jane Stain
He made his voice as contrite as he could, under the circumstances. "Ye must hae taken riding lessons since the last time we spoke. Ye are handling Smoke wull."
"Thanks,” she breathed out between hoofbeats. “He's a great horse. I only hae tae nudge, and he does what I want."
They had come enough distance now that no one would catch them on foot.
He took the reins in front of her hands and slowed Smoke to a walk. "Most o’ the horses in this time are like this. They dinna stand aboot all the live-long day like horses in oor time."
"Are Ellie and Nadia well? They didna… The men didna hurt them, did they?"
"Nay, nay they're wull.”
Something was dripping down his face. Annoyed, he shrugged up his arm to wipe it. And saw blood on his sleeve.
At the same time, what Sarah had asked him to try and do became difficult.
Sleep was taking him.
"Come tae think on it, I wull take a wee nap," he said, nodding off against Sarah’s back. “We need tae go tae Murray camp and get more people. Head through that pass.” He guided her sight along his arm and pointed. “Ciaran and Baltair will help us."
She groaned.
Vaguely aware of her reining Smoke in, he roused a bit. "Ye canna stop. Ye must keep on, or they wull catch us."
She turned in the saddle and started unbuckling his belt, her face intent on the task.
"Aw, ’tis na the time, Sarah."
Rolling her eyes, she fastened his belt to the saddle. "Ye canna hold on if ye are sleeping, now can ye?"
"I suppose not."
She tore a strip from her arisade and tied it round and round his head, then pulled his arms tightly around her again, but this time she tied them together at the wrists with a soft cord from inside her pack.
And just in time, because darkness took him as he collapsed against her back.
7
Through the rest of the night, Sarah clung to Meehall’s arm with her left hand while she held the reins with her right. She was guiding Smoke toward the path whenever he wandered too far, but letting the horse have his head most of the time. He was far more experienced at trudging through the Highlands that she was.
The sun came up, and that was a relief. Although she had led her friends on an adventure only to have it turned into a nightmare for them, at least she wasn't going to fall off a horse that tripped over something in the dark.
She got hungry and munched an energy bar from her fancy backpack, worried about Meehall. Did he have a concussion?
This was stupid. She should just use the bracer and take him back to the 21st Century.
But as soon as she stopped Smoke, Meehall roused. "Canna trust Kelsey. Keep going through the pass. Need tae go see Eoin." He slumped back against her back, snoring.
Well, if he was coherent enough to talk, then she supposed he didn't have a concussion. That was good. Hopefully he would just sleep it off and be good as new.
Doubt gripped her again when she got to a roaring river. How on earth did you cross one of these things without a bridge? She stopped Smoke again and looked to the left and the right. She didn't see any sign that the river got shallower.
Once again, Meehall roused enough to speak. His groggy voice came close behind her ear. “Fill this with water.”
She followed his gaze back to a bladder skin peeking out of the saddlebags, grabbed it, and handed him an energy bar as she got down to fill it.
He rasped in her ear again after they had both drunk their fill and she was once more mounted in front of him. "The crossing is doon river. About a mile. After ye cross, gae doon another half-mile and ye wull find the pass." He slumped against her back and re-commenced snoring.
***
Near the top of the pass, Sarah heard voices. And smelled cows. She stopped Smoke so she could listen.
And again Meehall roused. How he could sleep with the horse moving but was woken up by its stillness baffled her.
Nonetheless, his voice once again came to her ear. "’Tis the Gordons ye hear. Friends, na foes. Gae on."
When she rounded the next bend in the canyon, she saw a sizable camp. There was even a building up here, at the cross of the Ridge Road and the Canyon Road.
"Aye," said Meehall, "head for the inn."
An inn sounded wonderful. At this point she'd been awake 32 hours.
Two huge kilted men came out of the building and ran over.
"Meehall Murray, what has befallen ye?"
"Step doon, lass, and let us give ye aid."
More than willing to let them handle the horse and get Meehall into a room inside the one building, she slid down —and almost fell, she was so saddle sore. Meehall wasn’t walking too well, either. She was glad a beefy Highlander was helping him climb the stairs and then lowering him onto a bed in one of the two inn rooms upstairs.
The Gordans were probably wondering who she was, and she didn't want to damage his reputation. "We were marrit yesterday—"
From where he lay on the bed, Meehall cut her off with surprising quickness and lucidity. "Aye, and we wish tae be left alone. I thank ye, Gordon lads."
The 200-pound ‘lads’ laughed heartily at this and excused themselves, closing the door behind them.
Meehall groaned. "We stopped here for rest, Sarah, na tae tell the Gordons oor business." He closed his eyes and was almost immediately snoring again.
Sarah got a good look at him then, and gasped. Why was she thinking of arguing when his head bandage was crusted with blood?
She washed his wound with the soap and water in a bowl and pitcher on top of the dresser, dried it with the clean part of her leine on the inside of her skirts, and then dressed it with antibiotic salve from the first-aid kit in her backpack. His wound could use stitches, but she didn't dare try that. It was better off left to heal on its own, even even if it did leave a scar.
Anyway, guys liked having scars. She fondly remembered Meehall showing off the scar under his chin the first day she met him.
"I got this from a swordfight," he'd said, proudly puffing out his 13-year-old chest. He'd been an adorable 13-year-old, athletic and smiling.
Gazing over his form, she realized he was a gorgeous 25-year-old now, athletic and… fast asleep. Laugh lines were starting to form at the sides of his mouth and in the corners of his eyes. The sun had bronzed his skin so that his blue eyes, when open, seemed especially merry.
And she could tell he was sorry for leaving her by the way those blue eyes pleaded with her. It was a relief not to have to look into them now.
Right. And she shouldn't be so close to him. It would give their bodies the wrong idea, and a few desperate lonely experiences had taught her it wasn't worth it, getting close to someone you didn't plan on spending the rest of your life with.
No, that armchair over there was where she should sleep.
There was a knock at the door, and she got up, cracked it open, and peeked out.
A girl no more than 13 years old gave her a brief curtsy, making her long woolen skirts crumple on the polished wooden floor. "I brought up some food, for ye and yer husband." Handing over a cloth-wrapped bundle, she dipped again and then went back downstairs.
Curious, Sarah opened the bundle. Inside, she found bread, meat, and cheese. All the makings for sandwiches, but nothing to cut them with.
Meehall's voice drifted up from the bed before she was able to say anything. "My knife is sheathed in my right boot. And dinna ye crack any jokes aboot cutting the cheese. My head ails me already, and I can only assume laughter would make it worse."
She found the knife, prepared the food, and gave him some. They ate in silence. There was a skin of weak wine in the bundle as well, and they both drank their fill.
Sarah had just squirted the last of this into her mouth when it occurred to her. "They dinna hae Porta Potties here like at the faire."
Meehall barked one note of a laugh before groaning. "I telt ye nay tae make me laugh. Use that pot in the corner. Let me hae
another little nap, and then we wull gae home tae my clan and get help."
"Sounds good," she told him.
He patted the bed next to him.
But she once again chose the armchair.
***
When she awoke needing the pot, it was dark again. She groaned. “I dinna want tae stumble aroond oot there again.”
"I agree," said Meehall in a voice that was awake enough to be relieving. "We wull hae tae stay the night. I smell supper downstairs. Are ye hungry?"
"Aye."
The tavern downstairs was full of Gordons, but Sarah and Meehall found seats at the end of the bench nearest the kitchen. The first few minutes, all she did was eat and listen. The beef stew was good, and the talk among the Gordons was interesting, similar to what she'd heard in Inverness.
"We canna allow oorselves tae be bound tae the English. We must needs bide on oor own."
"We thought there was a way. Scotland sent all oor money off tae Caledonia. We squandered it."
“We did na. The filthy rich did."
Sarah thought they could use a change of subject, to a common cause. She gestured to Meehall’s now scabbed head wound. "The Camerons did this tae him. We—"
Before she knew what was happening, Meehall had his hand over her mouth and his other arm around her, lifting her up over the bench. "My wife does na ken when tae keep silent. We wull take the rest o’ oor supper up in oor room. Please tell the serving lass, wull ye?"
One of the two huge Highlanders who had heard about their desire to be alone nodded yes with far too much amusement in his eyes. "Ye wull teach her who is the man, I reckon."
"Aye," said Meehall as he hauled her up the stairs, "that I wull."
As soon as they were in their room and the door was closed, Sarah seethed at him. "Certies if we tell the Gordons oor friends were kidnapped, they wull help. Why did ye hae tae embarrass me?"
Meehall's face was inches from her own. His blue eyes were flashing with anger. He seethed back at her. "’Tis tae dangerous, Sarah. Nadia and Ellie are modern lasses. The Gordons would wonder at them, especially if they were the center o’ attention after being the subject o’ such a large undertaking. We canna risk it. I only trust my own clan with such a matter."
How dense could he be?
"Tae dangerous tae go rescue them? 'Tis tae dangerous not tae! My friends are in captivity, and ’tis my fault! We hae tae get them oot o’ there."
"Aye, ’tis yer fault. But 'tis na my fault. I’m gang doon tae hae the rest o’ my supper. Ye hae my bracer. Ye should use it. Gae haime. Let my clan handle the rescue."
“Gang tae yer clan wull only cause more delay. I wull gae get Kelsey. She wull ken what tae dae, and she can bring—”
He again put a hand over her mouth. "Nay, I telt ye, we canna trust Kelsey. Eoin has this time travel ring. I wull gae tae him. He and the clan wull help me rescue the lasses, and then he can return them tae their time. Ye dinna need tae be along," He had turned away from her and was already through the door and closing it. What she hadn't expected was to hear a bar come down over the outside of the door. She was locked in the room.
"Ye should na be drinking!" she yelled after him. "Dinna forget yer head injury,"
"Quiet, Sarah!" was all he said before laughter came up from the tavern.
She was seeing red. What was she supposed to do in here all by herself? There was no way she could sleep, she was so angry. If she took off these skirts, she could do some jumping jacks. That might help.
She had the overskirt halfway off when there was a knock at the door.
Which meant the door was unbarred.
She could go down there and invite the Gordons to come help them rescue Nadia and Ellie from the Camerons after all! She hurriedly put her skirt and backpack back on, threw open the door, and—
But the serving girl had the two big beefy Highlanders with her.
Sarah took her bowl of stew and closed the door as graciously as she could. She wasn't going anywhere. All she could do was hope she could get Meehall to rescue her friends soon, so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.
8
Meehall held his tankard out for the serving lass to refill with ale.
Angus stopped his hand when he tried to pay. "Ye got the last two rounds. This one is mine."
Emil clinked tankards with his brother. "’Tis all the rounds we should be getting. He's having wife trouble."
They both laughed, but it wasn't unkind.
Emil sat back in his chair and studied Meehall over the rim of his tankard. "Besides, yer wife does hae the right o’ it. Ye should help her get her clanswomen back as soon as ye are able."
Meehall threw his hand up. "Ye canna expect me tae go again alone."
Emil shook his head, making his long red hair sway about. "Nah, but we can expect ye tae take us in the place o’ yer clan. Sae ye can leave for Cameron camp on the morrow."
Angus clinked his brothers tankard again. "Aye. Ye insult us with the idea that the Murrays fight any better than the Gordons."
Meehall gave them his best ‘oh, come on’ look.
But Emil and Angus were now drawing other Gordons in.
"’Tis two days’ ride tae Murray camp, and two day back again, and that does na even count the time tae get from here tae Cameron camp. Six days ’twould be in all, when he has fine Gordon fighters here and now."
"And ’tis na like the Camerons wull go all oot tae keep two lasses. Once they see oor Gordon might, they wull give up the lasses withoot a fight, mind ye."
***
In the end, Meehall had to give in and agree to leave for Cameron camp with the Gordons in the morning. "Sarah wull be glad upon it. I wull gae tell her the news."
Angus clapped him on the back. “Yer night wull be much better for it as wull, eh?"
I wish. Wait, do I?
When had that happened? He took the stairs two at a time. He couldn't even wait until he was done unbarring the door to tell her. "Sarah, I changed my mind. The Gordons are gaun'ae help us rescue Nadia and Ellie—" Funny, he had taken the bar off the door, but it still wasn't opening. "Sarah?"
No answer.
Aw, that was good. She wasn't there. She had used the bracer as he had recommended. She would be safe.
He turned to yell down the staircase but then realized he couldn't tell anyone she had vanished. He would have to climb up into the bedroom from outside in the morning to retrieve the things he had left in the room.
He would just sleep on the floor in the dark end of the hallway and hope no one discovered him. He sure wished he at least had his cloak to pad the floor with.
This was better anyway. He wouldn't need to see her again until he was able to return her friends to the 21st Century, with Eoin's help.
***
Sarah was waiting for him when he rode back into Murray camp with the other warriors, exuberant at their victory. She and Malina embraced him and Eoin, and they all went to the feast together, happy faces lit up by the bonfire.
Sarah held his hand all the while, gently squeezing it whenever she found someone’s jest particularly funny. He anticipated which jests those would be with great accuracy, he knew her so well.
Their two sons played nearby. Irv and Hamish were good lads, obedient to their clan and eager to help with the chores. Meehall was proud of them.
After the feasting was over, he took Sarah’s hand, caressing as he did so, and helped her up, leading her out onto the moor under the starry sky. They walked arm in arm then, far enough away from everyone where it wasn't unseemly.
She gazed up at the sky in awe and wonder. "I never dreamed I would see sae many stars."
Something about her comment was odd, but he couldn't dwell on that now. Not with the starlight reflecting in her eyes and the gentle breeze lilting her hair around her face just so. "Sarah."
She took her gaze down from the stars to look at him. It was plain she enjoyed what she saw. Her face relaxed into one of invitation.
/> He accepted, pulling her close and lifting her face by the chin with his fingertips, kissing her as softly as the wind caressed her hair.
She rested her head against his neck, put her arms around him, and caressed his back as if they hadn't been living this way every day for the past ten years. I love ye, Meehall."
He choked up. He didn't understand why, but there it was. “Och, Sarah. Ye hae tae ken I love ye. If I dinna tell ye every day, then ’tis a poor husband I am, indeed."
There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling, keeping her arms around his neck and pulling back to look at him. "Ye are the best husband. I could na ask for better. Ye make me verra happy, Meehall."
He was choking up even more, and he clung to her, desperate to show her how much she had moved him. "And ye are the best wife ever. I could na be more happy."
They stood there gazing at the starry sky together for a few moments more, and then she shivered, He escorted her to their tent in the camp and pulled the door open for her to go in before him.
They were in bed together before he knew what happened.
***
It was barely light when he awoke. Needing to relieve himself, he leaned over to give Sarah a peck on the cheek —and saw a wooden floor and wall where he expected to see his and Sarah’s tent in Murray camp.
What the?
And then it came to him. That had all been a dream. Sarah was back in the 21st Century. And he needed to rescue her friends. Good, no one had disturbed him, so no one had seen him sleeping out here in the hallway outside his room at Gordon inh. He wouldn't have to explain.
He crept to the end of the hallway and peeked down the stairs. Still dark down there. Not even the kitchen fires were burning.
The stairs creaked. This was stupid. A warrior shouldn't sneak.
So what if he was seen going outside? He would say he was checking on Smoke. Decision made, he held his head up high and marched down the stairs, and through the tavern to the front door —which was not barred from the inside, glory be.
The Gordon cattle stood motionless in the hills outside camp, and the slight moonlight that penetrated the clouds reflected off the white patches in their shaggy fur.
