Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  “Does Kerr ken?” she asked quietly, suspecting her father could make money by telling the men where Callum was and that would be too sore a temptation for him to resist.

  “Nay. Why would we e’er tell him?” Colin shook his head. “Ye dinnae need to look so afraid. We would ne’er let him find out. And I dinnae think he believes any of us go anywhere. If we had somewhere to go the whole lot of us could have left by now. I think he believes his fists are enough to hold us. Fool. ’Tis just that we have naught else and whether we like to admit it or nay, we are all too young to be just out on the street. Hard to get a bed or food. Also ye are easy prey for any mon who wants to beat on something or the like.”

  Bethoc thought about that for a moment and nodded. Kerr felt he had them all cowed, that they would never leave because they were afraid of what he would do once he caught them again. He believed they had built their own cages and kept them filled with a bed and just enough food to make them stay. It was also a trap she had no idea of how to escape.

  She sighed as Margaret toddled up and sat on her lap. The little girl handed her a brush and then sat up very straight. Bethoc decided she had just been given a chore.

  “Fix,” said Margaret.

  “Demanding wee thing, arenae ye?” teased Colin as he tickled her and she squealed with laughter. “Ye should be talking by now, pet. Ye dinnae think she is a wee bit . . .”

  Brushing Margaret’s wild curls, ones so much like their mother’s or her own, Bethoc said before he could finish his sentence, “Nay. I think wee Margaret just doesnae say a word until she is sure she can say it exactly as she hears it and ye can understand her, until she has it just right. And I was told that children raised in a house like this quickly learn the value of being verra, verra quiet. That could be part of it.”

  Colin nodded. “Aye. Wish I had remembered that lesson the other night. I was just too angry to think. Even as the words leapt from my mouth, I was telling myself to hush.” He laughed bitterly. “Truly wish I had listened to that voice.”

  “I have a bad feeling he actually could have killed you. He has ne’er done ye like that before.”

  “He was trying and, aye, he wasnae quite sane. ’Tis because he feared what we might find. Found it anyway though, didnae we.” He shook his head. “We buried the bairns next to Mother and then wrote on a stone and set it over the grave. He saw the stone, too. Now he kens we found them. If he hadnae lost his mind, we ne’er would have. Put the bushes back in as weel. Some are a wee bit sad, but I think they will recover. Then ye willnae have to walk all over the countryside to get some berries.”

  She thought of what the boys had painstakingly etched into the stone. Four angels laid to rest with their mother at last. May she hold them in her arms forever. It brought tears to her eyes, even though she scolded herself for being so sentimental. Despite Kerr Matheson’s brutality, her boys were growing up to be good men. She prayed she could soon find them something better than being Kerr’s workers or something he could punch when the anger in him got too much to hold in. They deserved a much better life than that.

  “Thank ye, although I ne’er minded. I was so afraid when he saw that stone, too, but he hasnae done a thing,” she said in wonder.

  “Dinnae think he will,” Colin replied. “He needs us to work his fields. Needs ye to cook and clean. Knock the life out of any of us now and he loses his whole kingdom. I dinnae think he worries about any of us at the moment. What I want to ken is, what is he watching for?”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “I have followed him into the village.”

  “How do I keep missing all this sneaking about ye are doing?”

  “Because I am verra good at it?” He grinned, then said seriously, “He stays to the shadows and is always looking around. E’en when he goes into the tavern. He sits in a shadowy corner, drinks, and watches everyone.”

  “Ye went into the tavern?”

  “Aye, they dinnae pay attention. Da didnae either. Too busy watching his own back.”

  “It sounds as if he fears some trouble is headed his way.”

  Colin grunted softly. “A lot of it, I am thinking. Nay sure he kens how to escape it either. He asked me yester eve if me and the lads had a good place to hide. I said, ‘Aye,’ even as I tried to think of a way to nay tell him where it is or then wondered if I should. He didnae e’en ask. Just told me, ‘Run for it when the trouble comes.’ Then he left. Didnae give me a chance to ask what he was talking about.”

  “He ne’er asked me that,” Bethoc said, and realized she was not surprised that Kerr gave no thought to the safety of his daughters.

  “I ken it. Was getting madder and madder about that but now ye ken. Ye and Margaret will run with us. Ye may as weel. We mean to go to your cave and hide.”

  “Huh. Silly of me to think I had a wondrous secret place to go to.”

  He laughed, stood up, and picked up Margaret with barely a wince, which she saw as a good sign. “Go. I will keep her with me and ne’er let her out of my sight. Go on now. Your mon probably needs some food by now.”

  “He is nay my mon!” she said but Colin just laughed.

  Bethoc stood for a whole minute before she gave up trying to resist the urge to run to the cave. It was clear to see that whatever shyness Margaret had suffered from had vanished and the child was happy to be with Colin. She went and gathered up some food, putting as much as she could spare into the basket and bag in case she could not get out of the house again for a while. With a last look to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, she headed out. This time she kept a close eye out for any sign of the men looking for Callum. She was especially careful as she entered the clearing.

  Deciding it was all clear she hurried up the path to the cave. As she moved the brush, she frowned. Someone else had moved it. A tickle of fear entered her heart and she hurried inside. Callum sat on his pallet and smiled at her.

  “Ah, ye are here,” she said, then blushed and turned to put the brush back in place.

  “Aye. Where did ye think I might be?” he asked, still smiling.

  She went over and sat down in front of him. “For a moment, I feared someone had found ye. I saw that the brush had been moved.”

  “Ah. Nay. I emptied the slop buckets and cleaned up after Stormcloud.”

  “I have brought ye more food. I am sorry I havenae been here much. Colin was”—she hesitated—“ill.”

  He grasped her hands, stopping her fussing about with the food. “Tell me what happened. That time ye did run in before, I could sense something had happened, but ye gave me no time to ask. What has happened, Bethoc?”

  “My mother had more babies,” she burst out, and then took a few steadying breaths. “Four over the years. The boys were planting some bushes and Kerr went mad. Truly mad. He tore them all up, screaming all the while, and when Colin complained, he beat him. If we hadnae all pulled him off I fear he would have killed Colin. I have ne’er seen him so maddened.”

  “Over bushes?”

  She suddenly stood up, tearing her hands free, and began to pace. “It wasnae the bushes. It was where they were digging. I always wondered how my mother could go so long without having a child. Grieved for her, thinking she may have nay carried some to birth, mayhap e’en because Kerr hit her and that brought on her loss. But, nay, she had babies. She had four and they were all buried in the area where the boys had planted the bushes. That is why Kerr went so mad o’er the planting of them. He was terrified of what they may have dug up. And then, after he left, Colin wanted to see what was buried there.”

  “What made Colin think there was something buried out there?”

  “Because Kerr wasnae sane when he attacked Colin. There truly was a madness to it, and he said something about ne’er digging there. He also seemed intent on killing Colin, which he has ne’er done before. In truth, Colin ne’er usually got more than a hard slap because he cannae always watch his tongue.

  “Colin said there had
to be something there that he didnae want them to find. So, after Kerr left, Colin wanted to see what was buried there e’en though he could barely stand. They propped him up against a tree out in the garden. The other boys then dug up all around the area and they found the four wee bodies.” She took a deep breath but it did nothing to stem the flow of tears.

  “Come here, lass,” Callum said, and held out his hand.

  Bethoc looked at that hand and she knew she ought not to take it even as she put her hand in his. He tugged her down next to him, on the side of his good leg. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she slumped against him. It was weak, she thought, but it was good to have the sympathy. Being held so close to him was enough to ease some of the ache in her heart.

  “Four bodies?” he asked, giving in to temptation and resting his cheek against her hair.

  “Aye. My sisters.”

  “Ye are certain they are all girls?”

  “Kerr wouldnae kill a boy. E’en Colin said that. Aye, they are all girls. And, save for one, I think they were all born alive. One was too small. It could have died simply because it was born too early. But it explains why my mother insisted I stay with her when she labored with Margaret. She clung to my hand. She knew. He knew too. He hung about until he kenned I was going nowhere and then left. He was angry, too. Mother was pleased.”

  “So, no midwife.”

  “Nay. He ne’er allowed one. Said women were made to have bairns. They didnae need any help.”

  “I am sorry, Bethoc. Sorry that ye can ne’er be certain, either.”

  She nodded. The uncertainty over how the babies had died would probably always trouble her. Each had stolen a piece of her mother’s heart and mind. All she could do was pray that, if they had been born alive, Kerr had killed them before burying them.

  “Ye realize ye dinnae call him Father any longer.” Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at him. She knew she had constantly told herself she should stop calling him Father. Yet she was not sure exactly when she had stopped. At some time even the habit of it had just stopped. He had simply become Kerr in her mind, and her heart. The few times she spoke to him she did not call him by any name at all.

  “Aye, I suppose I have. Sad, isnae it.”

  “Aye”—he brushed a kiss over her temple—“but ye have made the family he didnae give you. Ye have been the mother to all those lads dragged off the streets.”

  “Nay a verra good one,” she muttered. “They still got hit.”

  “What did I say about this guilt ye wish to carry?” He tilted her face up to his and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “That I am a wee lass who couldnae stop him,” she said, and grimaced. “I ken it. I do and ye are right in all ye say. Yet I cannae stop thinking that I should have been able to do something about it all. It just doesnae seem right that one mon can hold so many others with just the power of his fists.”

  “It wasnae just that. He got the lads when they were little. May weel have gotten them off the street. What did they have? With him they had a place to sleep and food to eat. A powerful temptation. All they had to do was avoid his fists.”

  “And as Colin said, they had nowhere to go anyway,” she murmured.

  “Aye, so why leave. And, they had you.”

  “Oh, I dinnae think they thought on that much.”

  He decided not to argue with her about that. She could not see how she had become a mother to them all. Instead he turned her in his arms so that he could kiss her more thoroughly.

  Bethoc gave herself over to his kiss. She hated to admit it, but it was why she had come. She had missed the feel of being in his arms, of the sheer delight she got from kissing him. It was a delight that lingered in her thoughts long after she left his side. By the time he pulled away she could barely catch her breath and she rested her head against his chest. It pleased her to hear his heart pound and his breathing was also harsh, as if he too was having difficulty.

  Callum rubbed her back and Bethoc smiled. It was nice to just lie curled up beside him and be soothed. She did not really need soothing but enjoyed it too much to move. Finally, however, she had to sit up, for time was passing and she did not want to get home after Kerr had returned. The man asked too many questions when she did.

  “I have to go,” she said as she climbed off the pallet.

  “’Tis still light.”

  “I ken it but if I come in after Kerr has come home he pesters with questions I cannae answer. He has already accused me of slipping away to meet with a mon. I dinnae trust him to keep ignoring that now.”

  “Nay.” He dragged himself up off the pallet. “It would be best if ye dinnae get in any trouble o’er this. What have ye told him?”

  “That I am keeping a close watch on some berry bushes so that I might harvest some of the berries before the birds do.”

  “Clever.” He gave her a quick kiss.

  “That may be but I dinnae think he will believe it for verra long.” She grimaced. “And I am nay the best of liars.”

  “No shame in that, just rather inconvenient at times.”

  She laughed. “Oh, aye. Verra inconvenient.”

  He leaned against the inside of the cave opening as she moved some of the shrubs, enjoying how she looked. When she stood up and picked up her basket, he grasped her by the hand and pulled her up against him. She felt right there, in his arms.

  “Ye would run off without giving me a kiss?” he teased. “Coldhearted woman.”

  Bethoc laughed softly and gave him a kiss before slipping free of his hold and hurrying off down the path. She always felt so much lighter and happier after she had spent time with him. It was something that should probably bother her but she would not let it. One day soon he would have to leave and return to being a laird, a man far above her touch. For now, she intended to thoroughly enjoy what she could share with him.

  By the time her home came into view she lost a lot of that happiness. Bethoc felt a weight settle over her and sighed. It was not what one should feel when coming home. She straightened her shoulders and went forward. There was no other choice.

  To her relief, her father was not home. Colin played quietly in the corner with a happily babbling Margaret. She hurried over to give the little girl a hug.

  “Are the boys still working?” she asked Colin.

  “Aye, and I should be helping them.” He frowned toward the door but made no move to join the others.

  “Soon, Colin. Ye didnae have anything broken that I could find but it was bad. Everything was bruised and that takes time to heal.”

  “I ken it. Do ye e’er think there has to be something better than this?”

  “All the time,” she answered as she hurried over to start their supper. “It is out there. Some day we will be free to seek it. But I dinnae think t’will be all that much different from what we do now, just in a different place with different people.”

  When he just murmured in reply, she turned her attention to what she needed to have to make a meal. She did believe they would have something better. Some days it was all that kept her going. It just seemed that they had to have something better than working themselves into exhaustion only to watch Kerr Matheson drink and gamble the earnings from their labor away.

  Briefly she considered asking Callum but hesitated to do so. She had the feeling he would offer her something out of charity and that was not what she sought. She and the boys could work. They needed to have something they could work at, something that would put the profit in their hands instead of Kerr’s.

  As she worked she thought over how to put the question to the man. He had been out in the world in a way none of them ever had so she was sure he would know better what their chances would be of getting, perhaps, a small farm they could work. Bethoc got lost in the thought of it and only partly took note of her father’s arrival.

  “Hey! Are ye e’er going to put that on the table?” Kerr yelled.

  “Of course, I was just making certain t’was
done.” She placed the pot on the table and watched him spoon out a large serving for himself as the boys sat and waited.

  And that was why her mother got lost in her dreams so often, she thought. It was what she had to do to escape a deeply selfish, angry man and the ugliness in her life. It was an effort to bring herself back but Bethoc did, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was not a happy place she returned to but she knew she had to be here. The boys needed her to stand for them, to be here in body and in spirit. Someday, she mused as she doled out a share of what was left to all the others, this man will rule us no longer.

  Chapter Six

  “Why are we back here?”

  Uven frowned at Simon. “Because this is where he disappeared.”

  “I ken it but we have already been here, several times.”

  “True but the fact that it has been a month of hunting and we have found naught makes me think he ne’er left this place.” Uven frowned as he stared at the river and searched the bank carefully. “We have ne’er found a body, no horse, no word of him at all. Havenae found any sign of the boy, either. ’Tis as if they were all just swept away.”

  Simon ran his hand through his hair. “Weel, people have gone missing before.”

  “True but there was almost always something one could find e’en if ye ne’er found the person. Just something that let ye ken the person had been in that spot at some time.” He looked around. “Where did Robbie go?”

  “Said he saw something odd up on the hill,” Simon answered and Uven looked up the hill to where Robbie stood staring at some dying bushes. “There he is, studying the area round those bushes it appears. Wonder what he has found?”

  A few moments later, Robbie rode back down the hill and faced them. “We need to have a look up there. I am thinking there is a cave and, if I am judging it aright, someone has been up to it recently.”