The men had erected tents near the quarry, where they would take refuge whenever the rains came. The moment the rain let up enough, they immediately went back to work. When she did see Ian, he was often too exhausted or too preoccupied to talk. She had requested just a few moments alone with him on numerous occasions. “I promise, Rose, I will try to set aside some time fer ye later,” was always his response.
She pretended not to be hurt or insulted by his lack of attention. Logically, she knew he was very busy, with important duties, a keep to build…but that did very little to ease the ache in her heart.
Her plan had been quite simple; go to the auld McLaren keep, dismantle the granary, and bring those planks back by wagon. It would save time for everyone and it would solve the problem of ruined clothing and spoiled food. If Ian had given her just a few moments of his precious time, she could have explained it logically to him. But once again, he was gone before she woke.
“Enough is enough,” she declared as she stepped out of bed onto a still soggy floor. Reasoning that neither her husband nor his men could be bothered, she dressed quickly and set about enlisting the help of her clanswomen.
Ronna, though aged and oft tired-looking, was all too willing to help, as was Della.
“I agree,” Ronna said, “that me grandchildren will be grandparents before our men get around to planks fer floors, or even buildin’ huts fer us.”
At this point, Rose could not say she disagreed. “I pray ye’re no’ right, Ronna,” she said as they sought out more women to help. “I fear I’ll strangle Ian in his sleep if he makes me wait that long fer a sound roof and walls that do no’ leak.” ’Twas neither an exaggeration nor bold boast.
Soon, they had rounded up ten more women of varying ages, who were all too eager to help. “Who among us kens how to ready a team of horses?” Rose asked as they made their way to the corral where the horses were kept.
“I do!” Anna Markland piped up. “I help me husband all the time.”
“Verra well then, Anna, ye shall be in charge of the horses.” She smiled at the young woman. “We shall need tools to help dismantle the granary. I fear all I have is a hammer.”
Liza Markland, sister-by-law to Anna, slowly raised her hand. “Me husband, he has spare tools in our tent.”
“Good!” Rose said cheerfully. Thus far, things were going quite well. “I’ll need someone to help Anna with the horses.”
“But we have no wagons,” Ronna pointed out.
Rose looked around the encampment and spotted two empty wagons sitting near the tower. “Oh, but we do!” she exclaimed happily as she pointed.
“Now, we shall go get our tools, and any weapons ye can find. Anna, can ye also ride?”
“Aye,” she said as she backed the first horse up to the wagon. “So can Liza, and I believe Lena can as well.”
Liza and Lena said they could in fact ride and ride well. “So be it,” Rose said. “Let us gather our tools, weapons and a lunch, and meet back here in a quarter of an hour.”
* * *
Rose returned to her tent, grabbed the hammer, the sgian dubh Ian had given her a long time ago, as well as two dirks and a sword he kept in the tent. Feeling quite strongly that she was doing the right thing, she headed back to the meeting place. On her way, she saw Leona near one of the cooking fires.
“Leona, I need yer help.”
As was typical, the pretty young woman seemed distracted as she stared into the fire. Rose approached cautiously. “Leona?”
Slowly, she looked up and bid Rose a half-hearted good morn. Rose was pressed for time. If it had been any other day, she would have asked if something was the matter and offered any help she could. But the other women were waiting for her. “Leona, if Ian asks where I am, please tell him we went to the auld keep and should be back before nightfall.”
Leona nodded and gave her a smile. “Aye, I will.”
’Twas never easy to tell if the young girl was listening or not. Rose was about to ask if she understood when Ronna and Della called for her. “The auld keep, Leona. We’re goin’ to the auld keep.”
“I heard ye,” she replied without looking up.
With very little time to waste, Rose thanked her kindly and left her staring blankly into the fire.
* * *
There had been no one manning the gate when the band of determined women headed off that morning. Most of the men were working in the quarry and only a few were patrolling farther out. With light hearts, the group made the mile long journey to the auld McLaren keep in very little time.
For Rose, and Ronna McLaren, the lightness in their hearts faded the moment they set eyes on the auld keep. Not-too-distant memories trickled in, leaving Rose feeling sad and angry all at once. Sad for the days of her childhood when things hadn’t been quite as bad, and heavy-hearted with missing Aggie.
Rose’s skin turned to gooseflesh as they filed through the gate, seeing the keep lifeless, marred still by a fire set nearly a year past. The cheerful banter among the women faded and an eerie silence filled the air.
“I never thought I’d see this place again,” Ronna remarked in a barely audible whisper. “Truth be told, I never wanted to.”
Rose felt much the same way.
Beyond the main keep was the granary. ’Twas just as dilapidated as she remembered; however, the wide wooden planks it had been made from seemed to be in good enough condition to be useful.
Anna led the team and wagon across the empty yard, coming to a stop next to the auld building. The women sat in silence as they stared at the project before them. When Rose had first come up with the idea, it had seemed an easy enough task. But now that they were here, and she could once again see just how large the building was, a sense of dread settled in.
Not quite ready to give up, she took a deep breath and jumped down from the wagon, bringing her hammer with her. “’Tis a bit bigger than I remember, but we shall no’ let that stop us.” She tried to sound less disheartened and more a hopeful leader.
While the women climbed out of the wagon, she went to speak to the three on horseback. “I doubt we’ll have any troubles, but if we do, I need ye to run back to camp and tell Ian and the others.”
Anna appeared not only fully prepared but also fully capable of defending herself against any intruders. Liza and Lena seemed a little more worried about the prospect. “Just patrol where we discussed earlier. Blow the horn fer a warnin’ then ride as fast as ye can. We shall be fine, but. ‘tis best to be cautious.”
With the most serious expression, Anna patted the horn that hung around her neck then the sword that hung at her waist, signifying she was absolutely ready for anything. “Come ladies, we’ve work to do,” she said as she tapped the flanks of her horse.
Rose listened to Anna give bits of advice as the trio pulled away. “The trick, ye ken, is never to panic, as well as to remain as quiet as a church mouse…”
Feeling mayhap a bit safer than she ought, Rose returned to the group of women who would, for today at least, be carpenters and laborers.
“We should begin inside,” she said as she led them in to the interior of the granary. In each corner of the building sat tall, square bins that were meant to store grain. Old, decrepit looking ladders rested against each of the structures. Scattered about the room were remnants and reminders of the winter when this large building housed some fifty men and women. Rocks placed in circles still contained the charred remains of old fires; a few pieces of broken pottery were the only things left to prove people had once lived in this place.
“Let’s dismantle the bins first,” Rose suggested. Her hammer in hand, she took the ladder up to the top of the first bin. Studying it for a moment, she realized she was far too short to reach the very top of the bin. Twisting her bottom lip, she felt the stirrings of doubt begin to creep in.
“Start in the middle,” Della suggested from the bin opposite Rose. The woman had already climbed up the ladder and was working a heavy iron bar betwixt
two pieces of wood. “We can no’ get it all, but we’ll settle fer what we can get.”
Della’s positivity was contagious. Rose pushed all doubt aside when Maribet Mackintosh tapped her on the leg with an iron bar. “This might work better than yer hammer.”
Exchanging one tool for another, Rose set about working the bar between the planks. Back and forth, sliding the bar from side to side, she was ready to give up hope when she heard the plank moan before it gave way just enough to offer a glimmer of a chance they would be successful. It seemed to take forever before she was able to work the plank free on one side. Still, ’twas progress.
After much struggling, elbow grease, and a wee bit of cursing, the first plank finally broke free. It nearly knocked her from the ladder, but thankfully, she was able to keep herself from falling to the ground. Maribet caught one edge of the heavy piece of wood before it had the chance to land on her head.
“Bloody hell!” the young woman cursed.
“Mayhap ye should no’ stand so close,” Rose offered after apologizing.
Maribet cast her a stern look before bursting into laughter. “Mayhap I should work at dismantlin’ and let ye catch. Della has two planks down and is workin’ on her third.”
Rose looked across to see that Maribet spoke the truth. Giggling, she said, “I let her have the easy one, with the rotted wood.”
Della chimed in. “Mayhap ye should take the rotted wood, m’lady. We do no’ want ye hurtin’ yer pretty hands.”
Unable to contain her laughter, Rose leaned her head against the bin. She knew Della spoke in jest, for ’twas a conversation they’d had many times over the past weeks. ‘Ye do no’ work like any mistress I’ve ever kent,’ Della had told her numerous times. ‘I’ve never seen such worn hands on a lady before.’ The jests were her way of complimenting Rose, in her own round about way.
At the end of the first hour, Rose had dismantled four boards to Della’s nine. Covered in sweat and grime, both women eagerly gave over their tools for a quick rest, allowing others to ascend the ladders and take over.
Working in teams, while four women dismantled the bins, the women on the ground loaded the planks into the wagon. ’Twas not as easy as Rose had anticipated, but together, they worked diligently and proudly. By the end of the day, they had a sizable amount of lumber loaded into the wagons.
“Our men will be verra proud of us,” Rose declared as she looked over the contents of the wagon. “Verra proud indeed!”
* * *
“Where the bloody hell is me wife?” Ian shouted as he stormed through the encampment. When she had not brought him his noonin’ meal — as she’d been doing for weeks now — he thought mayhap she’d simply gotten too busy with something else. And when a handful of other men began to wonder where their wives were, they concluded their women must be together. But what could be so important that they’d forget to feed the men? Ian had volunteered to go back to find out.
Rose was nowhere to be found. He began asking every woman he came upon, if, by chance, they knew where his wife was. After the fifth “I do no’ ken” he began to worry. Worry turned to an unsettling anger and frustration, thus his need to shout at the top of his lungs.
A younger woman, whose name he had yet to memorize, hesitantly came to him. “M’laird, I saw her leave early this morn with Della, Ronna and a few others,” she stammered.
“Where did they go?”
Shrugging her shoulders, she answered as best she could. “I do no’ ken. I only saw them leave and head south.”
Perturbed, Ian ran a hand through his hair. “And ye did no’ think to ask them what they be doin’?” His voice was harsh, filled with frustration.
The young girl’s shoulders fell as she stared at the ground. “But she’s our mistress,” she murmured. “I did no’ think it me place.”
He felt ashamed. ’Twas no’ her fault his wife had left without telling anyone where she was going. “I be sorry, fer yellin’ at ye. Please, if ye find anyone who kens where they went, find me and tell me at once.”
The girl gave a nod and a curtsey before scurrying off.
Ian found Della’s youngest boy and sent him back to the quarry to fetch Brogan and Andrew the Red.
As he paced nervously around the encampment, a sense of unease came over him. It had been his decision to not have men at the gates. His decision as well to only have a few men on patrol. Plagued with guilt, angry that his wife had left without word, he was soon consumed by anger. He had been so focused on building the tower and other buildings that he had not taken the time to think of any scenario that would require strong defenses. Daily training had been replaced with daily, non-stop work on the tower and wall. Not once had he stopped to consider the actual safety of his clan.
He had even dismissed the idea of Brogan and Andrew protecting his wife. She was among her clanspeople. What would she need protection from? Apparently, from her own foolish and stubborn self.
Brogan and Andrew came racing into the encampment on horseback, worry etched into the lines of their faces. “What happened?” Brogan demanded as he slid from his horse. “The boy said Rose be missin’.”
Quickly, Ian filled the two men in with all he knew at this point. “They left without word, apparently,” he explained. “Why would she do somethin’ so foolish?”
Whatever thoughts Brogan or Andrew had on that particular matter, they kept to themselves. “I shall call all the men back,” Andrew offered. “We shall form a search party.”
For once, Ian did not think about towers or quarries or work. His only concern was his wife.
* * *
“When we get back to camp, I’ll have me boys help unload,” Della said from the back of the wagon. “I can no’ wait to have a dry floor!”
Rose was just as excited about the prospect as the rest of the women. “I fear we will no’ have enough wood to go around, though,” she said. “Mayhap when the men see how easy ’twas to dismantle the bins, they’ll go back and get the rest fer us.” That was if she could get her stubborn and distracted husband to let go of a few men for a few hours. Hopeful that once he saw the kind of progress ten women had made in a few short hours, he might not be against the idea. There had to be a way to get through his thick skull. Mayhap coming back with a wagon filled with wood would be the one thing to help him see the errors of his ways.
“There be home,” Rose said over the sound of the creaking and groaning wagon. She could just make out the tall wooden wall and the gate. “’Twill no’ be long now and we will have dry floors and verra thankful husbands.”
Little did she know there was nothing further from the truth.
* * *
Proud and happy were as far from what Ian felt than the moon was from the earth.
As they pulled the wagon through the gates, the women were met by furious husbands.
Rose took one look at Ian, and for the first time since meeting him, she was actually afraid. Oh, she knew he’d not lay a hand on her in anger. But from the glower on his face, he was mad enough to bite his sword in half.
Tamping down her fear, and pushing away any good sense she might previously have been using, she offered him her brightest smile. “Ian!” she called out to him. “Ye be back early. We have a surprise fer ye!”
Like a hoard of angry bees, the men stormed forward, each one after his own wife. Ian appeared to be the angriest of all, if his purple face and piercing gaze were any indication. “Where. In. The. Bloody hell. Have. Ye. Been?”
He gave her no time to respond. “We have been worried sick!” he shouted as he grabbed her about the waist and lifted her out of the wagon. “Ye hie yerself off and do no’ tell a soul where ye’re goin’? And ye take nine innocent women with ye?” He was certain that whatever they had done, Rose had been their fearless if not addlepated leader. “Ye will never put me through such anguish and worry again, wife!”
Rose knew there were times she should simply let her husband be angry; like water boiling
in a pot, it would eventually run dry. Knowing that and allowing it were two totally different things. They were standing in the middle of a crowd of people. He was showing her not an ounce of respect. When he finally stopped his tirade long enough to draw breath, she took the tiny opening to let off a wee bit of steam of her own.
“Are ye quite finished?” she asked, crossing her arms over her breasts.
He looked as though she had just slapped him. Stunned that she dare utter a word at that moment. Rose ignored him.
“I did tell someone where we were goin’,” she informed him in a stern, sharp tone. “I told Leona and I even told ye, days ago, what me plans were, but ye were too busy to listen.”
Until she uttered those words, she did not think his face could grow any darker. But it did.
“Ye told me? I think not, wife of mine! If ye had, I would no’ have been worried to the point of madness! Do ye have any idea how unsafe it is to venture far from these walls? Do ye have any idea the worry ye set upon me and the other husbands?”
Rose stepped forward, and with her index finger, she jabbed his chest. “Do ye have any idea the work these women have done since arrivin’’?” she demanded. “Do ye have any idea how hard it be to keep food and kin dry in this weather? Can ye count the number of times we all asked fer planks to help keep us and our food stores off the ground and safe?”
He tried to respond, but she’d not allow it. She was furious with him, for a whole host of reasons. He’d ignored her pleas, had ignored her concerns. “Nay, ye can no’ tell me because ye do no’ listen! We took it upon ourselves to get the planks we needed, because neither ye nor the other men here give one rat’s arse about what we have to endure on a daily basis.”
The other women had backed away from their husbands to stand with Rose. A united front of sorts, just as angry as their mistress was with how their men were behaving. “Because ye would no’ help us, we solved the problem ourselves,” Della chimed in, shooting her husband a most furious look of contempt.
Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 11
