by Kit Morgan
“What's he to you?”
“More than ye can possibly know. Or than I can possibly explain to ye.”
Finn stood and stared at him, his mind racing over the last few months and his encounters with the evil that was Lord Brennan. He sensed no such malice on the part of the Scot, and began to wonder if he could trust him. “What about Slade?”
The big Scot cocked his head to one side. “I dinna ken who yer talking about.”
“He came to my house a few days ago, and left this.” Finn reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. “It's a threat if there ever was one, and tonight if I don't show up at Harvey Wall’s farm…”
Mr. McDonald took the envelope from him, opened it and read the contents. “I dinna ken what this is about, and it isna Brennan's handwriting, I can tell ye that.”
Finn sighed in relief, even as his frustration grew. “Ye don't know anyone named Slade?”
The Scot shook his head. “I'm afraid not. But this would be worth checking out all the same.”
“Do ye think he works for Brennan?”
“Most likely. Brennan's no’ the type to get his own hands dirty with small details.”
“Small details?” Finn asked in shock. “My best friend's life and my family are nothing but small details?
“To Philip Brennan? Aye.”
Finn took a few steps back until he hit a post. He leaned against it for support, closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I don't understand. Why does Brennan want Lorcan dead?”
Mr. McDonald put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Because he didn't get to kill him the first time, lad. It's that simple. To him it’s a job left undone, and Brennan doesna like loose ends.”
“But why would he want him dead in the first place?”
“Ye ken what it's like to hunt, d’ye no? Ever had a rabbit that keeps getting away? Ye make it yer focus to snare the wee thing, because if ye don’t, ye ken ye’ve been bested by it. Brennan snared Lorcan the first time, but dinna have the chance to kill him. So now he's making sure he gets the job done.”
“He’s a madman,” Finn said as he came away from the post. “Only a madman would do something so foolish!”
“Aye, he's mad, all right. But also cunning, ruthless and driven by pure evil. So I'll ask ye again, laddie – where can I find Lorcan Brody?”
Finn stared at him and took a deep breath. If he told him, then maybe the Scot would be on his way, Slade would follow, and he and Eva could be married and start their life together. On the other hand, he might be putting Lorcan's life in danger.
“The sooner I can get to Lorcan, lad, the sooner I can protect him and keep him from harm. My guess is Brennan has no idea where he is, and the only reason this Slade is here is to find him, as I hope to. The difference is, I'm no’ going to kill him. In fact, I'd like to take him someplace where he and his wife will be safe and can live out the rest of their days in peace.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” That, Finn figured, was really the important question.
The Scott shrugged. “Ye canna. I have nothing to prove that I'm telling the truth. I can only give ye my word.”
Finn took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned toward the Scot. “A tiny town in the east part of the state,” he hissed. “It’s called Clear Creek.”
The Scot stiffened, and looked as if he were trying not to laugh. He pressed his lips together a moment to hold his tongue as his shoulders shook. “Clear Creek, ye say? Weel, now, that's interesting. Why didn't I think of that?”
Finn furrowed his brow, not quite understanding what he meant.
“Suffice it to say, I know the place,” the Scot reassured. “I’ll head there straightaway.”
“What about this Mr. Slade? What should be done about him?”
The Scot rubbed his chin with one hand. “Aye, the lackey. Why don't we do what the note says and find out?”
“I won't put my family or Eva at risk, do ye hear me?”
“I canna blame ye there. Tell ye what, I'll go to this farm and see what’s what. Ye stay behind to protect yer family. It may be this Slade is trying to see how cooperative ye’ll be and if he can control ye.”
Finn closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. He hadn’t thought of that before. “You'll help keep my family safe, then?”
“Aye, I'll see no harm comes to them. Besides, if I dinna take care of this for ye, ye’ll have no time to get ready for yer wedding.”
Finn gave him a quizzical look.
“Harvest Moon is just a few days away, lad. I'm sure yer bride will be wanting to get ready, too.”
“I want this cleared up before then, not after.”
“I ken ye.”
“Do ye? If ye do this for me, aren’t ye putting yer own wife in danger?”
The Scot laughed. “Nay, laddie – my wife’s made of tougher stuff. She can take care of herself.”
“If you say so.” Finn shook his head and rubbed his temple. “This is a horrible mess, and at this point I'm glad for any help with it. I just want my life to get back to normal.”
The Scotsman stared at him, his eyes narrowing. “I'm afraid that after ye've dealt with Philip Brennan, yer life will never be the same again.”
* * *
Later that night, Finn sat at the dinner table, his face blank in contemplation.
“What's wrong?” asked Eva as she sat next to him. “You've been quiet since lunch.”
He looked at her and took one of her hands in his. “I'm sorry, Eva. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“So do I, but my thoughts are about our wedding … and you.”
He smiled, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I've been thinking a lot about you, too”.
She blushed at the admission and squeezed his hand. “Do we need to wait, then?”
“No. I've made up my mind that I want to marry ye, Eva Brock, and I don't think putting it off is going to make any difference at this point, which means only one thing.”
“What?”
“That ye'd best get a wedding dress and anything else ye need to marry me.”
“At Harvest Moon, as we planned?”
“Aye, lass.” He looked away, and closed his eyes a moment before he gave his attention back to her. “I'm sure ye’ll look beautiful as a bride in the moonlight.”
“Did you ask Rev. Franklin about it?”
“Marrying in the pumpkin patch, ye mean?”
“Yes,” she said with a blush. “I doubt he's ever married anyone in a pumpkin patch by moonlight before.”
Finn laughed. “I'm sure it’ll be a first.”
She reached up and ran a finger along his jaw. “I'll try to be a good wife, I promise.”
He sighed, then smiled. “Ye'll have to write yer folks, ye know, and tell them where ye are. They must be worried sick about ye by now.”
She lowered her head and looked at the floor. “I know. But couldn't I do it after we're married?”
He smiled at that. “I told ye before, lass, that I would protect ye, even if it's from yer mother. She can't very well cart ye home if yer married to me, now can she?”
Eva's shoulders slumped in relief. “No, she can't. Thank you for understanding.”
He brushed some hair from her face, leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. “No, lass, thank you for showing up to become my wife. For ending my solitude. For getting me to forgive myself.”
He was about to kiss her again when his father walked in. “Save it for the pumpkin patch, lad! There's too much work to be done to waste time kissing your bride.”
“Da, kissing is not a waste of time.” To further make the point, Finn kissed Eva again.
Mr. Mullaney rolled his eyes and walked off.
Eva giggled when he broke the kiss and gave him a playful shove. “He's right, you know – there's a lot I have to do.”
Finn gazed at her and p
layed with an escaped lock of her hair. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “I need to check my dress to see if it needs mending, then I'm sure you'll want a nice supper afterwards, so there will be baking and cooking to be done…”
“Ye leave the baking and cooking to me,” announced Mrs. Mullaney as she came into the kitchen. “Ye just make sure yer dress is ready.”
“Ye brought a wedding dress?” asked Finn with a smile.
“Not exactly,” said Eva. “It's the pink one you saw me wear the other day.”
“It’s a beautiful dress, to be sure,” he said as he continued to stare at her with adoration. “Ye'll look bonny wearing it in the pumpkin patch.”
“I just hope the pink doesn't clash with the pumpkins.”
“No, it's too light a shade,” said Finn with a playful smile. “In fact, I suspect the pumpkins will be jealous.”
Eva giggled as Mrs. Mullaney took some bread out of the oven and set it on the table. “Stop it, both of ye – ye can make yer plans after we eat. Then it’s off to bed for everyone. We’ll all be plenty busy tomorrow making sure everything’s ready for the wedding, so we need our rest.”
Mr. Mullaney eyed his wife. “Just what are ye planning to do, dear?”
Mrs. Mullaney feigned innocence. “I've got to plan what we’re to eat and make a cake, of course.”
“And?” he asked suspiciously.
“Mr. Mullaney, if yer thinking I'm going to run around town and invite folks, then ye've got another thing coming.”
“I said no such thing. But ye'd best not – we haven't harvested the pumpkins yet, and I don't want a bunch of people trampling them.”
“How can ye even imply that I’d do such a thing?”
Mr. Mullaney scoffed. “How many have ye invited so far?”
Mrs. Mullaney turned back to the stove in a huff. “Oh! Mind yer own business, Mr. Mullaney!”
He sat back in his chair and looked at Finn and Eva. “Probably fifty or more already. Ye might want to brace yerselves.”
Eva put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “I don't mind if Finn doesn't.”
Finn looked at her, then at his mother, who was indignantly stirring a pot on the stove. Perhaps if there were more people, there’d be less chance of anyone trying to harm his family. What if Mr. MacDonald was wrong? What if this Slade was more dangerous than they thought, and didn't like the Scot showing up tonight instead of him? “No, I don't mind – Maither can invite who she wants. Just don't invite so many that ye make a lot of work for Eva – I don't want her worn out on her wedding day.”
Mrs. Mullaney turned back to the table, her face beaming. “Don't worry, I'll take care of everything! This will be the best wedding this town has ever seen!” She hurried out the kitchen and disappeared for a moment, then came back, her shawl in hand, and laid it across the back of her chair.
“What's that for?” asked Mr. Mullaney. “Just where do ye think yer going?”
“I've going to talk to Mr. Brody and Meara right after supper,” she said. “They'll have to help me with the cooking!”
Mr. Mullaney groaned and looked at Finn and Eva. “Now ye've done it. There’ll be no peace in this house for days. And you – newlyweds, too!”
Finn nodded and shrugged. Maither was like an earthquake – once she got going, you couldn’t stop her, you just had to ride her out. Still, maybe he'd better think about a place to take his new bride to spend some quiet time with her after the ceremony.
First, though, he had to figure out a way to keep her safe, in case Mr. MacDonald’s plan failed.
Fifteen
The next day dawned clear and bright, and Eva smiled as she stretched and got out of bed. She stood and put weight on her ankle to gauge the pain, and was surprised at how little there was. By the time she and Finn were married, there would be none at all. She grinned at the thought, then went to get dressed.
Breakfast was already on the table when she entered the kitchen and sat down. “Well, just look at ye, dearie. Aren’t you a happy sort this morning?” Mrs. Mullaney declared.
Eva giggled happily. “Yes, I am, Mother. After all, I'm to be married soon. What bride isn't happy when her wedding is only a couple of days away?”
“What bride isn't busy?” countered Mrs. Mullaney. “Eat up – we have lots of work to do today!”
“I looked at my dress last night and it's fine. What can I do to help you?”
“I’ll speak to Meara about you helping with some of the cooking and baking. Mrs. Brown, who runs the boarding house, will pitch in too, I'm sure. But we need to find a place to hold your wedding supper. We can't possibly fit fifty people in this house.”
“Fifty! Did you really invite that many?”
“Well, not directly, dearie. All I did was tell Birdie down at Doc Henderson’s office, and she took care of the rest.”
Eva laughed and took the bowl of oatmeal Mrs. Mullaney handed to her. “Where are the men?”
“They left early. Mr. Mullaney wants to make sure they're not going to have a lot of work over the next couple of days, considering the festivities.”
“That makes sense,” said Eva. “When Finn comes back, I’ll see if there's anything I can do for him.”
“Ye do that. In the meantime, I've got to run over to the mercantile and get some white thread. The dress I'd like to wear needs mending, and I intend to fix it before the wedding. Ye sit and enjoy yer breakfast – I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Eva nodded and started to eat. By the time she'd finished and washed the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Mullaney was long gone. Then came a knock at the door, and she froze. The last time anyone had come knocking, it was that Mr. Slade. She stared across the parlor, but couldn't get her feet to move.
“Finn? Are you in there?” a voice called.
Eva cocked her head in confusion. That was a child's voice, not a man's. She went to the door and opened it. Three young boys stood on the landing and stared up at her. “Can I help you?”
One took off his hat. “Excuse us, ma’am, but we’re looking for Finn. Is he home?”
“I'm afraid not. Is there something I can help you with?”
The three boys looked at each other before turning back to her. She suddenly realized they were identical triplets! “Well,” began another. “We let him borrow some things of ours the other day, and we'd like ‘em back.”
“Oh? What are they?”
The third boy approached. “Finn has our… toys, and… we wanted to play with ‘em ...”
Eva got the distinct feeling the three were choosing their words very carefully. She folded her arms across her chest and eyed them with scrutiny. “Do tell? And what, may I ask, are these toys?”
“You mean he didn't tell ya?” asked the first boy. At least she thought it was the first boy. She was having trouble keeping track of which was which?
“So you’re telling me that you loaned Finn your toys?”
The middle one nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“And now you want them back.”
The three boys looked at each other, smiles on their faces. “Do ya think ya could find ‘em for us?” the middle one asked. “We'd really like to play with ‘em, and we only have an hour before we have to go back and finish our chores.”
No, something wasn’t right. “What kind of toys are they?”
Now they began to fidget. “We done let Finn, um … have our slingshots,” one mumbled.
Eva smiled as she quickly put things together. These had to be the Dalton boys she'd heard the Mullaneys mention here and there. “Slingshots, eh?”
She heard a set of heavier steps come up the stairs. A man appeared behind the boys, smiling warmly. “Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but is Finn at home?”
“Are you their father?” she asked.”
He removed his hat. “Alton Dalton's the name, and this here is Walton, Nathan, and Hobart.” He pointed to each in turn.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Dalt
on?”
“Well, the boys here have confessed their hideous crimes to the sheriff, and feel they have repented enough to have their slingshots back.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” she asked with a smile. “Now I understand.” She looked at the three, their faces dripping innocence – likely feigned – and nodded. “I suppose I can find them for you.”
“Really?” asked Nate.
“Or maybe I should wait until Finn gets home,” she mused.
“Oh, don't do that!” exclaimed Walton. “We want to take them down to the pond and shoot at …”
Bart hit him in the back of the head. “Trees,” he finished. “We’re gonna shoot at trees.”
“Oh, really?” Eva remarked in a tone that said she was not convinced.
“I think they've suffered enough,” said their father. “I'm sure Finn won't mind.”
Eva eyed the man evenly. “Will you stay with these boys when they’re shooting at … trees?”
“Oh, absolutely, ma’am. They won’t leave my sight.” He aimed a look at the trio that indicated they’d better not.
“Well … wait right here and I'll go see if I can find them for you.” The three boys sighed in relief.
Eva turned and headed for Finn’s room. It was the only place she could think he might have put them. She hoped he wouldn't be upset with her when he got home. After all, the boys were being supervised by their father ...
Once inside his room, she spied them immediately, sitting atop his dresser. She gathered them up and took them to the boys waiting on the doorstep. “Now, you must promise me that you’ll use these wisely.”
The three nodded vigorously and reached for their slingshots. “I'm sure they'll try their best, eh, boys?” asked their father.
“Yes!” they answered in unison.
Mr. Dalton smiled, winked at Eva, and began to usher them down the stairs. “Tell Finn we were here, will you, and that I said it was okay for you to give these back? I was leaving it up to him, but then I figured I should take the responsibility to teach the boys how to hunt with them.”
“’Cause they’re not toys – they’re weapons,” one of the boys parroted.
