by Beth Trissel
Niall wore the look of a man who feared the worst but was bent on acting for the best. He spoke gently to Calum. “Hal is taking ye to a place where ye will receive the best of care.”
“The Holy Brothers?” Calum gasped.
Monks were noted healers.
“Nae. To Fergus’s mother.”
“A wise woman?”
“Aye. And others there wie her. When ye are mended, Hal will return ye to Donhowel.”
How long that might be, Fergus had no idea, the unpredictability of the portal being only one factor in the equation.
“Fight hard, Calum. Ye hear me? Do not give up,” Niall urged.
He nodded slightly. Even that gesture seemed to take all his strength.
If sheer will power could keep a man alive, Calum would wage a mighty battle, Fergus had no doubt. But would it be enough?
Niall beckoned to Hal. Once more, he slipped his hand over the wadded cloth and supported the injured man. Between the two of them, they bore him to the door. Beezus and Fergus followed right behind, ready to reach out and help if needed.
Calum fluttered his eyes. “Is the good woman in the wee croft?”
“Not exactly,” Hal said. “Beyond this door lies another land where Mrs. Fergus dwells.”
Apparently, Calum was too weak and in too much pain to debate this peculiar reply.
Niall glanced at the tiny band. “Ready?”
Fergus wasn’t. But this was his only chance. Then he said what he knew he must. “Beezus, you should go with them.”
She startled as if he’d slapped her. “No. Why?”
“You know why.”
Fiery love brimming in her eyes, she glared up at him. “I won’t leave you.”
“It will break my heart for you to go. But if I don’t make it, do you want to be stuck here indefinitely?”
She could scarcely speak, she was so choked up. “If I must. What of you, will you come with me if I go with Hal?”
“No. Live or die I’m staying here and seeing this through. Morley’s still at large.”
“Then so am I.”
Niall’s wounded gaze passed between them. “Ye are always welcome to remain wie us, if the worst comes, Beezus.”
Resolve in his jaw, Hal shook his head. “It won’t.” He handed the magnetic energy field detector to Fergus. “Keep it. I’ll modify another. And devise a new lightsaber for you.”
Fergus didn’t know what to say to this vote of confidence, except, “Thanks.”
“I’ll be back. We both will.” Without faltering, Hal slid the bolt and pushed open the door. And there was the upstairs hall from the Victorian House in Staunton.
The details were blurred, like gazing through a camera lens not quite in focus, and it seemed as if the fog had drifted inside. Fergus made out the gold patterned wallpaper and floral china lamp on the table along one wall. Rays of late day sunlight filtered through the window beyond the milky whiteness. He glimpsed his mother’s familiar face, though not in detail. Concern must weigh heavily in her eyes. And there was Wrenie. At least, he assumed that was her. Great Scott. Had she gone blond? She wasn’t kidding about going off Goth.
No time to wonder at her transformation.
Niall shifted Calum into Hal’s capable arms. “Godspeed, m’ friend. Take care of me dear brother.”
“I will. You look after ‘Young Skywalker’ and his good lady until our return.”
With Calum in his grasp, Hal stepped into the hazy hall. Hurried movements followed as the women hastened to his aid. Wrenie reached out her arms to assist the wounded man and his mom had a cell phone to her ear. She must be calling the rescue squad. This would be another one for the books. And the house and its occupants would come under renewed suspicion. A new case for Lieutenant Hale.
Fergus almost pitied the detective’s foreseeable frustration. Almost.
He struggled to get a better look at Calum, encircled now by Hal, Wrenie, and his mother. They lowered him onto what appeared to be a cot they’d readied in the hall. Was that an IV poll and a portable oxygen canister like Ruen MacDonald’s? Fergus hoped it wasn’t because the poor fellow no longer needed them.
Maybe the women had gotten the supplies from a pharmacy or home health care service. They must’ve rushed around like mad in preparation for Calum’s arrival and were proceeding with treatment while awaiting an ambulance. Wrenie bent over Calum to affix the oxygen tube to his nose and hook up the IV line.
Fergus stared in disbelief. “Holy cow. Wrenie’s putting her medical skills to use.”
Niall appeared equally amazed. “What skills?”
“She took a few nursing classes. Who knew she was so proficient?”
“Not me,” Niall grunted.
Sounds were garbled. And voices unclear.
Beezus nudged him. “Your mom’s trying to tell us something.”
“I know.” But it was as if she were speaking before a restless crowd and the microphone not on. He strained to hear. They all did.
She repeated words that sounded like, ‘Will be well!’
“Who will?” Beezus called back.
“Fergus!” And his mother gave an encouraging thumbs-up signal.
Beezus exhaled as though she’d been holding her breath a very long time, and leaned weakly against him.
A giddy rush swelled in Fergus and he held her close.
Niall murmured, “Praise be to the good Lord and all the saints.”
Then his mom shouted, “McChesney house still here!”
“Good!” Fergus was glad they hadn’t screwed up the future.
She waved her arm at the cot and medical supplies. “Transplant!”
Beezus jerked to attention. “For Uncle Ru?”
“Yes!” came the indistinct reply, and Fergus caught a significant head nod.
So that’s why Ruen no longer needed the stuff. He was off getting a new heart.
A whoop escaped Beezus.
Fergus had many more questions he wanted to ask, and then—
They were gone. Swallowed in a hazy glow. Where the upstairs hall had been mere seconds before, now there were gray stone walls, wooden sills, hand-hewn stools and a narrow table, beds built against the wall, bits of crockery in the small press, and animal skins on the hard packed dirt floor. The portal had shifted again.
“Whew,” he whistled. “Cut that one mighty close, didn’t we?”
Beezus socked him in the arm. “You held us up blathering about me going too.”
Fergus grinned, despite the powerful wallop she packed. “Maybe I was mistaken.”
“You think?” She flung her arms around his neck. “Morley can’t block your mom now. And she said you’ll make it, you dolt, which must mean Calum does too.”
“They’re sure taking good care of him. Wrenie looks like a pro. Did you see that one coming?”
“No. I kin scarcely take it in,” Niall said in bemusement.
Fergus was jubilant with the growing realization. “Group hug.”
Niall tightly wrapped them both, and Fergus freed an arm for his brother.
Beezus spoke from the middle of the circle. “We’ve still got to get Calum laid.”
Dang, she was in earnest. Fergus burst out laughing so hard he broke the huddle and reared back his head. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Any volunteers?” Niall teased her.
Fergus clapped him on the back. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I just spotted an attractive blond.”
“Wrenie?” Beezus pounced. “You want Wrenie for your ancestor?”
“Stranger things have been known to happen. And she always says she wants to travel.”
“True,” Niall concurred. “And she can do her beadwork at Donhowel.”
“Moved on to macramé, last I checked,” Fergus informed him. “Could be into pottery by tomorrow.”
“Any craft she likes. Or doctoring folk.”
“She may turn out to be a real Florence Nightingale.”
> “Mayhap. But I cannot imagine Calum and Wrenie will git on together. She niver sticks with anything.”
Fergus shrugged. “Maybe she has yet to find anything worth sticking with. Or should I say anyone? Guess we’ll find out.”
“That we will. Sooner or later.” Niall waved at the croft. “After we tend the horses, what say we go inside and kindle a fire? There are ample provisions and a snug roof. ’Twill be dark in the shake of a lamb’s tail and rain on the wind. We’ll head home first thing in the morning.”
Strangely, Donhowel felt more and more like a second home to Fergus. “Yes. Let’s. Beezus and I still have some goodies in our pockets. And you can count on me for coffee.”
Niall gave him a high five. “I niver doubted it.”
“We better take stock of our weapons while we’re at it,” Beezus reminded them. “Morley’s injured, but will recover. He’ll be back in action before long.”
“And he’s still chieftain. His men are freaked out.” Fergus had witnessed the fear in their faces.
“They should be,” Beezus affirmed. “He’s an odd blend of his present and former self, minus the godlike powers. But a force to be reckoned with, nonetheless.”
“Aye. He’s a cagey one.” Niall still bore the scars from battling the original.
“We’ll have a weird form of Red MacDonald on the prowl,” Fergus concluded.
A rueful smile touched her lips. “And thanks to me, he knows there’s a treasure out there. Just not the location he thought. The price I paid for you to get at the stole.”
Fergus waved aside her regret. “He already knew there was a stash hidden away. You didn’t divulge the exact spot, so that’s in our favor. Besides, we’ve dealt with worse. Impossible quests are our calling.”
Niall saluted him. “And keepers of the portal.”
“Always that. Our sacred, never-ending charge. When it comes right down to it, I wouldn’t have it any other way, or any other woman.” Catching Beezus to him, Fergus swung her around, wincing a little from his cuts and bruises. She probably did too, but he had to ask, “Will you marry me, Beezus Mac?”
“Here or in the future?”
“There’s nothing like a Highland do.”
“And so say all of us,” Niall chimed in.
“Then yes. Whatever, whenever, wherever, just as long as we’re together.”
“It’s more than I’d dared dream of.”
She laughed at him. “A Jedi can do anything.”
“With the right theme song. We need a soundtrack playing in the background.”
“Later,” Niall chuckled. “The horses need seeing to.”
“How about we sell them to some Jawas and get a landspeeder?”
Smiling broadly, Niall clasped his shoulder. “Niver change, Fergus.”
“I don’t intend to.”
The End…For now
About the Author
Married to my high school sweetheart, I live on a farm in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia surrounded by my children, grandbabies, and assorted animals. An avid gardener, my love of herbs and heirloom plants figures into my work. The rich history of Virginia, the Native Americans and the people who journeyed here from far beyond her borders are at the heart of my inspiration. In addition to American settings, I also write historical and time travel romances set in the British Isles, and nonfiction about gardening, herbal lore, and country life.
For more on me, my blog is the happening place: https://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/
