Ghosts of Culloden Moor 08 - Duncan

by L. L. Muir

  “She’ll be in the house, with the kid. I saw their lights on,” he whined. “I hate this miserable mud. Do you think it’s clay? I slid clear down that hill with these gas cans banging and punching me. I think I’m hurt.”

  “Not as bad as you will be if we get caught,” the other one warned. “Get those walls soaked with that gasoline. I’ll do the next building, then we’ll light ‘em together and get out of here. This old wood is going to burn hot and fast and spread quick as the devil, even in this rain. A whole fire department couldn’t put them out, let alone one puny woman.”

  Lainey’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, until she felt a brief wave of dizziness. “Duncan,” she whispered, her voice ragged with fear as she leaned in close, digging her fingers into his forearm.

  “Go now. Stay with Molly.” Duncan muttered low, pulling her through the darkness toward the barn door. I’ve a wee party to attend, Highland style, but I need to know ye’re out of the way.”

  He was close behind her, bumping into her as he all but shoved her out the door into the rain. When he moved down the length of the barn toward the far corner, she spotted her ax, tucked snugly in his fist.

  ~

  Molly scowled as she tucked Barbie, for the third time, on one side of her and a stuffed elephant on the other. Her chair was too small, but she didn’t like sitting in it alone.

  She’d listened very closely for Mama’s voice but there was only the rain hitting the door. She hoped it would stop soon. It was kind of scary.

  Her puzzle wasn’t much fun, even if it was a picture of kittens. She wished she could do the one in the house instead, and she wished Mama didn’t want her to practice staying alone any more. She didn’t like it very much.

  More thunder rumbled outside and she pressed her lips together and stuck out her chin, showing the stuffed penguin sitting across from her how to be brave, even though she didn’t feel especially brave right now.

  She wished Mama would come.

  A bump and a scratching sound came from outside the door.

  What was that?

  She heard the same noise again. Something was by the door, but it wasn’t the rain and it didn’t sound like Mama. She would say something. She said she would.

  Molly tucked the elephant against her chest and walked, very slowly, to the bottom of the steps to listen better.

  A faint, meow, and then another came out of the rain.

  Patches!

  “I’m coming,” she called excitedly, setting her elephant on a stair so she could climb easier. “I knew you’d find me. Stay there. I’m coming to let you in.” The rail Mama had put on the cement wall next to the stairs helped, but it was still slow and sorta hard going up. She liked coming down, better. “I’m coming, Patches. I’m almost there.”

  The door was heavier than she remembered. Mama usually opened it for her and just left it open, but she’d lifted it one other time, by herself. She could do it again.

  It took a couple of tries but she finally got it to flop back, out of the way. The rain pelted her as she looked around for Patches. She wished she’d remembered to bring a flashlight but she didn’t want to go back down for it.

  “Patches? Where are you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She wiped the rain from her face and squinted into the darkness. After the bright light of the root cellar she couldn’t see very well.

  Meow. Patches peeked between two big rocks.

  “There you are!” Molly squealed. “Patches! I’ve missed you. Did you have your kittens?” Molly couldn’t wait to hold her. She’d get her dry and get warm in her basket and then they could play together. “Come on girl,” she coaxed. “Come to me.”

  Molly walked cautiously toward the rocks. Mama wouldn’t like her getting soaked, but she and Patches would both dry off after they went back in. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go inside. You like your basket, remember?”

  As she got closer, Patches took a few cautious steps toward her, hunched low against the rain. “That’s a girl.” Molly reached out to pick her up just as a flash of lightening and a deafening crack of thunder shattered the sky above them, echoing and booming through the clouds.

  Patches hissed and shot across Molly’s feet, disappearing down the old homestead road, toward the wash.

  “Come back,” Molly cried. “Please, Patches. You have to come back.” I need you. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be brave but she’d been waiting so long for Patches to come home. That darn thunder!

  She wanted to go get her, but it was dark and the rain made the ground slippery and hard to balance when she walked. She glanced at the doorway to the cellar. Mama wouldn’t like that she’d come outside. She’d promised her she wouldn’t. But Mama always said if you have animals, you have a ‘sponsibility to take care of them and keep them safe. Patches was her cat. Keeping her safe was her ‘sponsibility.

  She really wished she’d remembered the flashlight. And she wished she had her jacket with the hood. She walked the few steps back to the stairway and looked down. It seemed a whole lot further than when she played down there in the daytime. Rain splattered on the stairs, already making little Barbie ponds on the old, worn steps.

  She sighed and went around to the backside of the door. She lifted and pushed, working her way across its width with her palms, as the door got higher. Her arms shook a little and her shoulders hurt by the time it was standing upright. She gave it a final push and it banged shut.

  There. Now the rain wouldn’t get in.

  She shivered and wished she didn’t have to be all wet to do her ‘sponsibility. She guessed she was only a little bit scared to follow Patches into the dark because she’d gone that way lots of times before to play on the little sand hill in the deep wash. Patches liked to crawl inside the hollow log. Mama said it got stuck on top of the sand from a flood a long time ago. Patches probably went there to hide from the thunder.

  Molly took a few careful steps on the muddy, uneven ground and thought about going back. It felt scarier, going to the wash in the dark and the rain. She wished she hadn’t left her elephant on the stairs.

  Pressing her lips in a tight line, she stuck her chin out, looking for the bravery Mama said she had, and kept walking.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Duncan peered around the corner of the barn, straining to see through the rain, hoping Lainey had made it safely back to Molly. The dark shape of a man was swinging his arms up and down, tossing the contents of a container up the wall. The shadow paused, tossed the vessel aside and grabbed another one before moving further down the barn, repeating the process.

  An acrid, bitter smell burned Duncan’s nose as he crept away from the barn into the darkness, to circle around behind.

  Duncan rushed him, putting his sizeable weight behind the force that took them both to the ground. He pinned the man into the mud and pressed the ax blade to his throat. “Doona make a sound, laddie”, he growled, close to the man’s ear, “or I’ll gut ye right here.”

  He quit struggling immediately with only a soft whimper of protest.

  “Ye’d be Abe.” Duncan kept his voice low and tight, not wanting it to carry in the rain.

  The man’s eyes widened in shock.

  “And yer partner, Walt. Where is he?”

  Abe shrugged very carefully, holding his neck perfectly still.

  Duncan prayed Walt hadn’t overheard their scuffle. If he had, there was no time to tie and gag this one. A nice tap to the head should keep him quiet for a bit. Placing his broad forearm across Abe’s throat, Duncan pinned him with his body, grasped the ax near its head and raised his arm.

  Terror filled Abe’s eyes as he struggled in the muck, squeaking like a mouse beneath a cat’s paw.

  Duncan heard a click at the same time he felt the press of cold steel at the base of his skull. His heart sank. Walt.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The snarl in Walt’s voice suggested he wouldn’t hesitate to use the gun.

  Abe snorted. “A
bout time. This guy almost crowned me.”

  “Toss that ax and get up,” Walt ordered. “Real slow, with no tricks. This gun is mighty unpredictable. It could go off any time.”

  “This one isn’t,” Lainey’s voice came out of the darkness. “It’s very predictable. I can predict with complete certainty that it will go off in the next few seconds if you don’t toss yours in the mud.”

  Duncan wanted to hug and curse her simultaneously. She’d disobeyed him, putting herself in danger and…likely saved his life. She was the most unpredictable, frustrating, remarkable woman he’d ever known.

  When Walt didn’t remove his gun, he heard the deliberate double click of Lainey’s. “Is my barn worth your life?”

  Rivulets of rain trailed from Duncan’s head and shoulders as he waited for the man to respond. After another moment’s hesitation, the pressure against Duncan’s neck disappeared and he heard the gun spatter into the mud a short distance away. “You’re making a big mistake, lady.”

  “No,” he heard Lainey reply. “I’m all through making mistakes. Now sit down next to your friend and clasp your hands behind your head.”

  Duncan shoved Walt aside with a little more force than might have been necessary, feeling the satisfaction of hearing his bulk splat, heavily, into the sludge.

  The all too familiar sound triggered visions of the deadly battle at Culloden Moor. Friends and countrymen had landed like raindrops in the mud and mire churned by thousands fighting for a Prince too cowardly to lead them.

  He’d screamed his rage and righteousness into the face of the cannons until the shock and pain of his own flesh being torn away stole his breath, sending him into the cold, bloody mud to bleed his life away.

  The killing blades of the Government soldiers finished what their guns and cannon had not.

  Duncan rolled his shoulders, imagining he could still feel the cold steel of the bayonet sinking deep into his back.

  They’d fought against tyranny. Wasna Lainey doing the same? Someone was trying to impose their will on her and by the stars he’d find out who.

  Duncan rose, snatched Walt’s gun from the mud and walked a circle around Abe, watching the rain splatter on his generous belly. “Set up,” he snarled, kicking Abe’s foot. “Mimic yer partner and put yer hands behind yer neck. I’ll no’ be long dispensing with him, then I’ll happily see to ye.”

  He walked over to the ax, hefted it, and handed it and Walt’s gun to Lainey. “If ye’ll mind these, lass, I’ll be back for ‘em shortly. I’ve a yen to use my fists to warm up first.”

  “Hold on, now…” Abe said. “No need to go that fa—”.

  “Shut up!” Walt warned.

  Duncan yanked Walt to his feet and slammed him against the barn wall. “‘Tis a nasty bit of business ye’re about this night, laddie. I ken ‘tis no’ for yer pleasure alone, but for another’s. I’ll have his name or ye’ll no be leavin’ here in the condition ye came. If ye leave at all.”

  Walt’s pinched face tightened even more, but he held his tongue.

  Duncan curled his fists into the blackguard’s shirtfront. “Ye’ll do no service to yerself by holdin’ yer tongue. I’d advise ye to use it while ‘tis still attached. ‘Twould pleasure me greatly to rip the thing from yer throat and roast it in the verra fire ye planned to set.”

  “You can kiss my—”

  “So, ‘tis the tussle yer after, then?” Duncan yanked him forward and slammed him back against the rough barn wall. “I’m keen to oblige ye!”

  He grasped Walt by the collar, swung him around and landed a blow to his chin that sent him sprawling into the puddling water. “Ye appear to be in the mud again, swine that ye are.” He yanked him to his feet and hit him again before Walt could raise his arms.

  “Yer boss has picked a pitiful pair of scrappers, for sure,” Duncan said indignantly. “Have ye no fight in ye at all?”

  “You’ll regret this,” Walt said tightly, rubbing his jaw. “You’ll pay for this. And so will she.” He jerked his head toward Lainey. “And maybe even the kid,” he said belligerently.

  Duncan saw red. “Ye’re too much of a coward to hold up a hand to me, but brave enough with yer tongue when it comes to threatening a woman and child. Do I ken that right?” he snarled, snatching Walt out of the mud by the collar. He grabbed the ax from Lainey and pressed the blade to his neck. “Let’s see how brave ye really are,” Duncan whispered against his ear. “I’ll have the name of whoever sent ye here. Ye’re too witless to think of coming on yer own.”

  Abe shifted and Lainey pointed her gun at his head. “Did I say you could move?”

  “Okay. Okay lady,” he whined, muddy palms raised. “Just don’t get crazy with that gun.”

  “Sudden moves startle me and when they do my hands tighten up. You’d be wise to hold as still as possible.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he nodded.

  “I don’t like surprises much either,” Duncan pressed the ax-blade a bit tighter against the man’s neck. He patted the two front pockets of Walt’s trousers. “Shove yer hands deep inside these two pockets and keep ‘em there ‘til I tell ye different.”

  After he complied, Duncan patted the rest of Walt’s pockets for anything that could be used as a weapon. Something hard and thin filled the bottom of his shirt pocket. Duncan pulled it out and rolled the cylinder between his fingers.

  He’d seen the guards used the implements to light pipes and cigarettes, as well as some of the visitors. After a couple of flicks with his thumb, a small flame ignited. “A tool of yer trade, I ken.”

  He held it close to Walt’s face, on the side opposite the ax. He could feel Walt’s muscles tense as the heat reddened his cheek. “Have ye thought of a name yet?”

  Walt couldn’t retreat from the flame without pressing his own neck further into the ax-blade. The circle of light highlighted a muscle jumping in his jaw. Duncan supposed if he could see his eyes, they’d be wild with hatred and hopefully, a bit of fear.

  “Lainey, keep yer gun on Abe while he turns his pockets out. Two fingers only, Abe,” Duncan warned. “I’d wager ye’ve at least one of these devices. And since ye and Walt came together to burn Lainey out, ‘tis only right ye should burn together, in return.”

  He couldn’t gauge Lainey’s reaction. What must she think of such a shocking suggestion? He only hoped she’d pretend to agree.

  Lainey snatched the lighter that fell to the ground along with some change.

  “Come on, now,” Abe whined. “You’re just messing with us, right?”

  “Messing with ye?” Duncan asked. “Aye. That we are. The verra way ye were planning to mess with the lass and her property.”

  “But you can’t—”

  “Ahh, but laddie,” Duncan sent a glance his way. “I can. And I will.”

  “Now just a minute,” Abe cried, panic evident in his voice. “There’s no need to get hasty. I’ll…I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just…just slow down.”

  Duncan felt a surge of relief and shot a victory glance at Lainey

  “I warned you to shut up, you little piss-ant,” Walt growled.”

  “No way. I didn’t sign up for this. You said it would be quick. Just in and out. You didn’t tell me there’d be a lunatic in a Braveheart costume, wanting to kill us.”

  “If you say another word, you piece of trash, I’ll kill you myself,” Walt snarled.

  “Ye appear to be the smart one,” Duncan said to Abe. “I don’t think ye want to roast. ‘Tis only a name I need.”

  “Don’t do it, Abe. You know what’s in store for you if you talk. He’s made it clear what he does to snitches. He’ll kill you and then he’ll go after Louise so she don’t talk either. That’s how it works.”

  Abe dropped his chin to his chest and blubbered like a baby.

  Duncan could see he was losing the battle. He’d have to raise the stakes. “Ye’re in a tight spot, lads. If ye don’t talk, I’ll save him the trouble and kill ye both. Yer families will nev
er find yer bones.

  Duncan exchanged the lighter for Lainey’s gun. Fetch the ropes from the barn, Lass.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Abe’s voice trembled with panic. “Let’s…let’s talk. Can we go in the barn or something? It’s wet and cold out here.”

  “Are ye ready to talk names?”

  “Abe glanced at Walt and hung his head.”

  “Well then, doona fash. Ye willna be wet, nor cold, much

  longer.”

  Lainey emerged out of the darkness with two long, coiled ropes and a flashlight lighting an elongated circle of rain and mud. “If they’re not going to talk, Duncan, let’s just get on with the bonfire. I’m getting cold.”

  “You’re bluffing,” Walt sneered. “We all know you ain’t going to burn nobody.”

  Duncan passed Lainey the pistol and used the ax against Walt’s neck to push him to the ground. “Sit. Legs straight out. Arms crossed against yer chest.” When he didn’t comply, Duncan let the ax-blade slide just a fraction, making a slight nick. Walt flinched and complied with a snarled curse.

  “You think you can just do this?” Walt bit out. “You don’t know who you’re really dealing with.”

  “Tell me who I’m dealing with, and we’ll be done with this.” Duncan took one of the ropes and lashed Walt’s crossed arms against his body, then bent his legs and secured his knees against his chest, wrapping him several times.

  “Yer turn, laddie,” Duncan said to Abe. “Same position.” He wrapped and tied him, securely. “Will ye want to face each other? Nay,” he shook his head, “mayhap ‘tis best not to watch the flames melt the skin from each other’s bones.”

  Abe started to bawl. “Please, mister. I got a family.”

  “So does the woman ye came to burn out.” Duncan growled, picking up one of the containers the men brought, shaking it to make sure it wasn’t empty. “‘Tis a sorry sight, this. Ye’re willing to burn for a man too cowardly to do his own dirty deeds. If he’s so fearful, why does he need the two of ye to handle a wee woman and child? Did ye no’ think he’s arranged for someone else to take care of ye? Ye’re but an encumbrance to him now lads.”