The Pleasure of the Rose

by Jane Bonander

  “Grandfather always told me it wasn’t good, and I knew that too, but I just kept on doing it. When Grandfather died I dipped my fingers in vinegar so I wouldn’t bite them during his burial ritual.”

  “What kind of ritual was it?”

  “We wrapped Grandfather in his favorite blanket. Then Duncan took his body to a cave in the mountains where he was buried. Then we burned all of his belongings.” She gave Rosalyn a shy glance. “I suppose it sounds barbaric, but that’s what Grandfather wanted, and we would never have buried him any other way.”

  “Why did you burn his things?”

  “So he would have peace in the afterlife. Comanche custom is that if his clothing remains, some of what ailed him is left behind and someone else may suffer because of it.” She shrugged and gave Rosalyn a slight smile. “It’s quite different from a Christian burial, isn’t it?”

  “The end result is the same for all of us,” Rosalyn assured her.

  “As for my nail biting, Dorcas tried to get me to quit, too. She also tried to tell me you weren’t a bad person, but I didn’t want to hear that. Once I even put my hands over my ears so I couldn’t hear her. I’m so ashamed of myself.”

  Unwilling to say anything against the woman, Rosalyn said, “She cared very much for you.”

  “I know, but once she was gone, I realized I had depended on her for everything. I did whatever she told me to do, except be nice to you. I’m usually not like that. I have a mind of my own. Just ask my brothers.”

  Rosalyn gave Kerry a gentle nudge. “I think I knew that from the beginning.”

  “Well, I promise I won’t ever be a problem for you and Fletcher. Not ever again.”

  Rosalyn had to laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t start making promises like that.”

  The wind came up, bringing with it an icy bite, and there were whitecaps on the water, slapping at the shore.

  They had seen the wild horses, and just behind that, Kerry pointed to an outcropping of rocks and shrubbery. “It’s there.”

  Rosalyn brought the rig over the rough ground and pulled the mare to a stop. She held her breath as a cramp twisted in her back. She’d had a few since before breakfast, but she wasn’t due yet, so she wasn’t concerned. She didn’t want to frighten Kerry.

  The girl brought everything into the cave. There was an old chair leaning against the wall, and Kerry covered it with blankets.

  Rosalyn was impressed. As she waddled to it and lowered herself onto it, she asked, “You brought a chair in here?”

  “It was easier to stay and read. Sitting on the rocks got hard on my bottom.” She started going through her books. Rosalyn thought she must have dozens stacked against the wall.

  “Is everything here?”

  Kerry sorted through them. “Odd—everything is here, even the one I thought was missing.” She looked at Rosalyn. “I’ve been reading Robert Burns.”

  Pleased, Rosalyn asked, “How do you like him?”

  “He’s all right, I guess. I’ll get a better picture of it when I understand his language better.”

  Rosalyn looked out onto the roiling ocean, imagining what it must look like on a sunny, calm day. Even now, as weather threatened, she could understand Kerry’s feelings for such a view. “It is peaceful here,” she said, feeling the damp breeze on her face. “All this fresh air makes me hungry.”

  Kerry unpacked the lunch, and the two of them ate heartily.

  Rosalyn was reluctant to leave, but she was also experiencing more frequent cramping in her back and sides. She almost told Kerry they should go, but the girl was so deeply engrossed in one of her books that Rosalyn didn’t have the heart.

  • • •

  After checking with the station master and learning that no horse had been ferried off the island lately, Fletcher rode to the new distillery. So far Fletcher had been impressed with what they were doing. Some of their Scotch whisky was available at the wedding, and he had enjoyed the taste and texture. Danny McKay met him at the door and ushered him into his office.

  “Yer Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Fletcher laid the item he had found at the cottage on the desk.

  McKay picked it up and studied it. “Aye, for sure ’tis an old ale faucet. Where did ye find it?”

  Fletcher told him how he’d come by it.

  “’Tis the kind MacNab uses in his pub,” McKay informed him.

  Fletcher nodded. “MacNab.”

  “Ye know,” McKay began, “I’ve offered that man plenty for his business but he refuses to sell.” He shook his head. “How he stays open is a mystery to me.”

  “Explain,” Fletcher said.

  “Ye been in there?” At Fletcher’s nod, McKay continued. “Ye look like a drinkin’ man, Yer Grace. Would ye call the place yer home away from home, so to speak?”

  Fletcher recalled the dirty windows and filthy floor, the near-dilapidated condition of the furnishings, and the unpleasant smell. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “He has very few steady customers. That’s why I can’t understand how he stays in business. The only friend he has is his wife’s brother, Douglas the Lum.”

  Fletcher stopped halfway to the door.

  “The same fellow who shot Bill’s goat?”

  “Aye, the very same.”

  Fletcher thanked him, and just as he left, McKay said, “Yer Grace, we have a new whisky we’ve been aging, sort of a labor of love. Might I send a flask over when it’s ready?”

  “I’d appreciate that, McKay. You are doing fine work here.”

  He had to find a way to get into that cottage. And what, if anything, did it have to do with Angus MacNab? What about Douglas the Lum?

  On his return to the castle, he met the tall, rangy Fergie the Burn on the road. The man waved at him. Fletcher met him at his cart and saw that his boy, Clive, was with him.

  “Good to see you, Fergie,” Fletcher greeted him. “Getting settled back into the cottage?” Fletcher reached out and tousled Clive’s hair.

  Fergie took off his cap. “Aye, things are coming together. And Birgit can’t stop singin’ yer praises, Yer Grace. First ye save little Clive here, then ye come along when the house is afire.”

  “I’m glad we were at the right place at the right time.”

  Fergie lifted Clive onto his lap. “See here, Yer Grace?” He wiggled the lad’s foot and Fletcher saw that little bells had been tied to the laces of his shoes.

  Fletcher broke into a smile. “Bells on his toes. I hope it helps you keep track of the little guy, Fergie.”

  “Aye, and besides that, I got me a fine litter of collies.”

  “Ah, yes, from…Donnie the Digger’s Sarge, that right?”

  With his other hand, Fergie reached down and brought up a squirmy pup. “Fer you, sir.”

  Fletcher accepted the pup as it licked his face.

  “It’s a beauty, Fergie.”

  “He be a male, sir.”

  Fletcher gave Fergie a wide smile. “Thank you. Thank you, Fergie. Maybe I’ll call him Little Sarge.”

  Fergie the Burn guffawed. “’Twould make Donnie proud, Yer Grace.”

  Fletcher waved goodbye and rode toward the castle, the pup tucked inside his greatcoat.

  Evan met him at the stable door and Fletcher handed him the pup.

  Evan took the little collie and looked him over. “He’s a fine-looking pup, Your Grace.”

  “Can you make sure he’s got a place here, in the stable?”

  Evan shook his head. “When Miss Kerry sees him, she’ll demand he be raised in the castle.”

  “Yes, but a good herding dog shouldn’t be coddled, should he?”

  “It’ll be hard to convince her, Your Grace.”

  Fletcher frowned. “Speaking of Kerry, have you seen her today?”

  “She and the mistress left in a rig after breakfast,” Evan answered.

  Fletcher sighed. So much for ordering his wife to stay close to home in her condition. “You don�
�t know where they were going?”

  He shook his head. “They were just anxious to be on their way. If I were to guess, though, I’d say they probably went north.”

  Of course, Fletcher thought. Probably to Kerry’s special hideaway.

  Fletcher glanced at the sky. “Weather coming in.”

  Evan put the pup inside his shirt, where it wiggled a little, then settled against Evan’s chest. “The old laird could tell a change in the weather by the ache in his bones.”

  Curious, Fletcher asked, “Did he treat you well?” Seldom did anyone even mention his grandfather.

  Evan glanced away. “Aye, he were good to me.”

  Fletcher frowned. “Something bothers you?”

  Evan chose his words carefully. “He were good to some folks he shouldna been—nay, I gabble too much, I do.”

  “Evan, whatever you’re thinking, I want you to tell me. I need to know as much as I can about these people. I depend on you to keep me informed, all right?”

  Evan kicked at a clump of dirt with his toe. “He were friendly with that pub owner, MacNab.”

  Fletcher recalled the remark MacNab had made during his visit. And the wink, as if they had something in common. “I see.”

  “Ye upset, Your Grace?”

  “Not with you, by any means. Evan, I will always appreciate any information you might have for me.”

  He strode to the castle, hoping to find some answers as to his wife’s whereabouts. Annie came out of the kitchen. “Have you seen your mistress?”

  Annie curtseyed and kept her eyes down. “No, Yer Grace, but seein’ as how she’s been so tired, she’s prob’ly in her room resting.”

  Fletcher frowned. “I’ve checked; she isn’t there.”

  “I have been worried about her, Yer Grace, ever since—” She popped her hand over her mouth.

  “Ever since what?”

  Annie shook her head. “She made me promise not to mention it.”

  He took Annie’s shoulders gently and said, “You must tell me.”

  Still Annie couldn’t look at him. “If I hadna been with her the other day to catch her, she would ha’e fainted and fallen flat to the floor, she would ha’e.”

  Fletcher cursed and rushed outside. Nothing to do now but try to find Kerry’s hideaway and hope that he wouldn’t discover havoc.

  • • •

  Rosalyn had drifted off but a strong cramp brought her awake. She glanced at the cave entrance and gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  A nasty smile crawled across Angus MacNab’s face as he took in the scene. “Well, well. What do we ha’e here, then?”

  Kerry rushed to protect Rosalyn. “She’s going to have a baby; you can’t hurt her.”

  MacNab snorted. “What makes ye think I want ta hurt anyone?”

  “What are you doing here, then?” Kerry grilled him.

  “Jes’ wanted to make sure ye noticed that all yer books are back in place.”

  She glared at him. “It was you. You stole my books.”

  “Nay, how can I steal something I returned?”

  Kerry’s eyes narrowed. “You tried to scare me.”

  “Young lassies shouldna be roamin’ around the island alone,” he retorted.

  “You probably stole my pony, too.” She was on the verge of angry tears.

  Rosalyn took Kerry’s arm and brought her close to her, partly to keep her from physically lashing out at MacNab.

  “Do you get pleasure out of scaring women and children, Mr. MacNab?”

  He looked at Rosalyn, one furry eyebrow raised as he took in her mammoth stomach. “So yer goin’ to have the spawn of the savage, are ye?”

  She refused to egg him on. “What do you really want?”

  “I tol’ ye,” he said quite innocently. “Jes makin’ sure the lassie is fine.”

  “What about her pony?”

  “What makes ye think I took it?”

  “You are a bully, Angus MacNab. Just a big bully. You enjoy picking on those who aren’t strong enough to fight back.”

  His smile was sly. “Ye be careful there—ye don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to that bairn, now do ye?”

  “That’s just the thing a bully would say,” she answered.

  “You leave her alone!” Kerry had broken away from Rosalyn and was in MacNab’s face.

  Rosalyn felt another strong twinge in her back and suddenly everything was wet. Her water had broken. She kept silent. They were in dire straits here, and she had to think clearly.

  “Kerry? There’s another blanket in the two-seater. Would you get it for me?”

  “But I don’t want to leave you, Rosalyn.”

  Rosalyn gave MacNab a saccharine smile. “Nothing will happen to me, dear. Deep down in Mr. MacNab’s bones there must be a gentleman of some sort, am I right?”

  “I don’t hurt nobody,” he snarled.

  Only your wife, she thought, but was wise enough not to say. But by the holy, she didn’t want him around when the baby came.

  • • •

  As Fletcher rode north along the coast, he saw the cairn monument in the distance.

  Slowly he and Ahote moved through the grassy brush, hoping no one was watching him. The cottage appeared empty, but he couldn’t be sure. When he reached the shack, he dismounted and crossed to the door. Surprisingly, it was open.

  When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Fletcher noticed two sawhorses that made a makeshift table. He touched the items thrown over them. Hides. As his fingers felt the texture of the skins, he knew what they were and he simmered. “Horse hides,” he whispered. He glanced around and saw large sacks of salt resting against the wall. Was it MacNab who was killing off the herd? If so, how was his brother-in-law involved?

  He recalled McKay saying that he wondered how MacNab could stay in business. Was this his way of keeping his head above water, or had it actually made him a wealthy man?

  Fletcher’s stomach clenched. If what he was thinking were true, had Kerry’s pony met the same end?

  As he left the shack, he was surprised to find Douglas the Lum driving an empty cart across the grass. Douglas expressed shock and horror when he came face to face with Fletcher.

  • • •

  Rosalyn hadn’t had a cramp for a while and hoped to God her labor had stopped for the moment. “What do you want? You say you don’t want to hurt anyone, but if you were any kind of human being at all you would ride to the village and get us some help.”

  Kerry sat with Rosalyn and each time Rosalyn had a cramp she squeezed Kerry’s hand.

  MacNab faked an innocent yawn. “To help deliver the spawn of the savage? It don’t matter none to me. ’Tis not man’s business, birthin’ bairns.”

  Suddenly Kerry stood, an unlit torch in her hand, and lunged at the man.

  He guffawed and did a little boxer’s dance. “Ye gonna strike me, lassie?”

  “If she doesn’t, I will.”

  All eyes went to the cave entrance, and both Rosalyn and Kerry yelped with relief.

  Fletcher gave his wife a questioning look.

  “I’m fine, now that you’re here,” she answered.

  MacNab recovered from his surprise. “Now, ain’t this a picture. What do we got here, two savages and a whale?” He guffawed.

  Fletcher ignored his remarks. “I came across a little shack in the woods. Interesting little place, filled with bags of salt and treated horse hides. Looks to me like someone has gone into business for himself.”

  MacNab stopped laughing and gave him a surly shrug. “Don’t know what ye be talkin’ about.”

  Fletcher pulled the ale faucet from his pocket and showed it to him. “Is this yours?”

  MacNab frowned, his caterpillar eyebrows forced down over his eyes, but he didn’t answer.

  “I found it in a strange place. Behind that tacky little shack with all the hides and salt in it.”

  “Don’t mean it’s mine,” MacNab answered.

  “Dan McKay seems t
o think it’s the kind you use.”

  MacNab snorted. “That little ass. Tryin’ to run me outa business, he is.”

  “He wonders how you stay in business, MacNab. From what I hear, you don’t have too many steady customers. It’s usually customers who keep a business open.” Fletcher let that sink in, then added, “What keeps your business open, MacNab? Are you a horse thief?”

  “Ye can’t prove nothin’.”

  “I saw the proof with my own eyes. In your little shack in the woods.”

  “Me and the old laird had a deal. I gave him a cut of the profits, I did. I could cut ye in, too.”

  “What you’ve done is against the law. And it’s theft, MacNab. The island belongs to me, therefore so do the horses.”

  MacNab pulled out a small firearm. “What ye gonna do about it, savage?” He trained the weapon on the three of them and backed away, toward the entrance. Once outside, he grabbed Ahote’s reins and pulled himself into the saddle.

  But with a strange rider on his back, Ahote bucked and reared, throwing MacNab to the ground. The last thing the man saw coming was Ahote’s hoofs as they were about to crush his skull.

  Rosalyn and Kerry shuddered, closed their eyes, and looked away.

  “Nasty way to go.” Fletcher pulled the body to the side of the cave, out of sight.

  Back inside, he knelt by Rosalyn. “Have we time to get you to Fen?”

  Another cramp, more severe than any she’d had, gripped her. She took Fletcher’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”

  He glanced at Kerry. “I guess we’ve got a job to do, little sister.”

  • • •

  Later, when everyone was back at the castle, Kerry was still teary-eyed. “I can’t believe it. I helped deliver two babies. I have to tell Evan!” She sprang to the bedroom door and was gone. Fletcher couldn’t believe it either. Two boys. Here they were, small and wrinkled, with thick black hair that stood on end and little noses pushed against their faces. And they wailed. And they were beautiful.

  Fen had checked out the twins and Rosalyn, and after everyone had had a peek at them, she ushered them out of the room. “Tomorrow is soon enough to ask your questions,” she ordered. And then she was gone as well.

  Fletcher stared down at Rosalyn. “My love. You have scared the living shit out of me. Pardon my crudeness, but there’s no other way to describe it.”