by Stobie Piel
A sharp hiss startled even the queen. Lady MacCallum pushed forward. "That is impossible."
The queen's brow rose. ''She is certainly not a housekeeper, Lady MacCallum. Her Majesty recognized that at once."
Glenna glanced at Nathan, then back at the queen. "How did you know?"
"Housekeepers keep themselves cleaner than this."
Glenna nodded. "Quite so."
The queen looked down at Nat. "Then you . . ."
"This is my grandson, Nathaniel MacCallum."
"The real Nathaniel MacCallum, I presume."
Nat straightened. "Your Extreme Eminence, I am Nat." He bowed quickly.
"You have been taught protocol by Mr. MacTavish, I see."
"Yes, sir, Ma'am. Will you let my uncle go?"
The queen's gaze shifted to Nathan. "Where would he go, do you think?"
"He would save Miren, so she can become my mother. As of now, she is my cousin only. But I want her for a mother."
The queen's lip curved to one side. Something about Nat's declaration confused her. Molly wasn't sure why. "I see." She turned back to Glenna. "Then you are the real Lady MacCallum?"
Glenna didn't answer. She looked to Irene. "No, Your Majesty, I am not. I fled my husband's cruelty years ago. A woman who married him and stayed his wife despite his abuse surely has earned that title. I do not desire it. My husband is Nathan's father. I will sign whatever papers are necessary to insure that Irene's station remains unaltered."
The queen nodded, but Irene offered no thanks. "This matter is a disgrace. Brent! Summon our coach at once."
Brent rolled his eyes. "It's not 'our coach' anymore, Mother." He didn't sound constipated anymore. Molly decided he might be good, after all. "It belongs to Master MacCallum." Brent bowed cheerfully to Nat. "With your permission, sir . . ."
"Granted, sir!" Nat laughed, and Brent patted his head.
"You will be the one to slay the hairy fiend." Brent saluted. "Perhaps don't kill it, but teach it a good lesson."
Brent grinned. "I'll pin it in a corner and play the highest note I can reach on my pipes. How's that?"
"Good."
Brent turned around and waved to Grainger. "We're taking the coach on back to the estate, Grainger. After that, we'll have to find our own way to Edinburgh. At least, if you'll agree to leave your post and come along with me."
Grainger nodded. "It would be my honor, lad."
Brent turned, smiling, to his mother. "And you, Mother. Kenneth left you enough money to set up somewhere else. I'll be joining the Royal Pipers in Edinburgh. Maybe you'd like to come along?" He didn't sound enthusiastic.
Irene's face formed a snarl. "You fool . . . Certainly not! Pipers. Ha!" She snapped her fingers at him. "If you'd been a better man . . ."
The queen braced into royal, and perhaps motherly, indignation. "That will do, Lady MacCallum. Go to your coach. I have seen enough of you."
Irene clasped Muffin in her bony hands and whisked to the coach. Brent cast his gaze skyward. "Think I'll sit up with Grainger for the journey." He headed off, his bagpipe secure beneath his arm. "Nathan, I'm guessing we'll meet again." He headed off, stopped, then bowed to the queen. "Almost forgot.'' He chuckled as if his error caused him pleasure, then continued on without a formal dismissal.
The queen sighed. "I almost begin to like that young man." She turned her attention back to Glenna. "No one knows the child's heart like a mother. So I ask you, do you believe your son a murderer?"
Glenna watched Irene storm into the coach and slam the door. "Of course not. Nathan brought Nat here as Kenneth's rightful heir. Until he met Miren, he had no intention of staying."
The queen eyed Nathan. "Ah. Then you have changed yourmind. Her Majesty was, of course, right."
Nathan's mouth opened a little wider. His reaction seemed to please the queen. "Young men in love can be stubborn, and sometimes overlook the best thing in their lives. Especially when they stumbled on it, rather than seeking it out for themselves."
Simon sighed. "That's more true than you know, Your Extremeness. More true than you know."
"Then I will overrule Major MacDuff's orders and will leave the matter in the Duke of Argyll's capable hands."
Major MacDuff went white. "I have orders . . ."
One brow arched, so high that Molly tilted her head to view the queen's face straight. "Orders that supersede those of Her Majesty the Queen of the British Empire . . . and many other places too numerous to mention?" Her voice rose to a satisfying finish. Molly approved, but apparently MacDuff feared something more than the queen.
The duke puffed an impatient breath. "MacDuff, there's nothing the doctor can reveal about you that we don't know already. Now, back off."
The queen eyed the duke suspiciously. "Is this a matter of which Her Majesty should be aware?"
The duke hesitated. "I'm thinking Her Majesty would be happier not knowing."
"Her Majesty values happiness. Release the American, Major. Her Majesty is at this point weary, and intends to proceed to Balmoral Castle. These Games have been . . . eventful, but I trust you all will conclude the matter on your own."
Everyone bowed, even Simon. Some with grace, some awkwardly. Molly cocked one ear, but no one noticed. The queen stepped forward, but stopped beside Molly. She tapped her knee over her great, cumbersome black dress, and Molly rose up and placed her paws on the designated spot. The queen scratched her ears.
"Such a fine collie you are. Don't worry, dear little one. Your mistress will return to you."
The queen raised her chin and progressed through the crowd, her house pets in dutiful attendance. A good, solid woman. Molly liked her, but she could never be the companion Miren was. For the first time, Molly didn't envy the favored house pets. If she could have Miren back, she would stick to a small cottage and soft brushing. If only she could have Miren again . . .
MacDuff released Nathan and left the field with his soldiers. The duke clapped his hands once, half in pleasure, half in excitement. "Well, then! That's settled." He paused. "Now what? I'm assuming you have some sort of plan."
Nathan didn't hesitate. "Go to Inveraray as Patterson expects, Your Grace."
"What about you?"
"I'll need a horse. The fastest horse you can find." He didn't wait for an answer. Nathan turned to Simon. Molly's head shifted with the conversation, although she began to lose its trail.
"The others will follow in the duke's coach. Simon, I've got another plan for you. Take a small, fast boat around and up Loch Fyne . . ."
The Duke's brow furrowed tight. "I don't know, Nathan. If I follow through and do as he asked, Patterson will think he's got the upper hand."
Nathan smiled, his dark eyes glimmering. "I'm counting on it."
Chapter Nineteen
He wouldn't dare leave me behind. I will not obey! Not that I am an obedient dog anyway, of course. But I will not start now.
The queen has left. Lady MacCallum has also gone, with poor, wretched Muffin clasped on her lap. I felt pity for the miserable little creature. Muffin tried to follow Glenna into her coach, but Lady MacCallum, the shrew, grabbed Muffin by the neck and pinched until she squeaked.
I sense a strange tension in Lady MacCallum that wasn't there before. She has always been bitter and angry. But now her bitterness has grown so strong that even Muffin fears her.
The duke brought a huge, dark horse for my Nathan, and Nathan is about to leave. Without me. I will not be left behind! My Miren needs me. I must find her. I will hunt down the coach that stole her, and I will bite its wheels until it stops. The coach will steal her from me forever.
Nathan steadied his tall bay horse, and leaned down to squeeze Nat's hand. "You take care of Gran'mama, Nat. I'm counting on you."
"I will, Uncle. Don't worry." Nat released Nathan's hand and climbed into the duke's coach.
Glenna stuck her bandaged head out the coach window. "Nathan, it's got to be the rumored Malcolm treasure. It explains why Kenneth wanted to
marry Cora Malcolm, and why Dr. Patterson wants Miren now. When Cora married another, Kenneth kept his knowledge to himself." She paused. "He must have told Dr. Patterson about it, probably in one of his drunken stupors. He was always grieving about an 'opportunity lost.'"
Simon nodded. "I heard that tired song more than a few times from the laird's tongue. I'd guess Patterson convinced him to remain silent."
Nathan nodded. The answer had been there all along, in Miren. And she didn't know it herself. "Because Patterson had found Miren. He had attempted to coerce her when her father died. It was then she took to herding sheep."
Glenna tapped her fingers on the coach molding. "I still don't understand why he'd go to the trouble of killing Kenneth, though."
"Much remains unclear, Mother. We will unravel the mystery in time. After I've saved Miren."
"Nathan, take care. Patterson thinks all goes his way. If he should suspect . . . he will kill her."
"Mother, if I don't reach Inveraray first, he'll kill her anyway."
"You will. If you remember who you are."
Nathan eyed her doubtfully. "Are you saying my heritage can help Miren?"
"I'm saying it can help you. You are what you want to be. Your heritage doesn't define you, Nathan. It serves you. Let it serve you now."
"Cryptic."
"Were you expecting a map and a planned strategy?"
A reluctant smile grew on Nathan's face. "It might have been helpful. I have a map. The strategy is molded to the events. I will carry you words in my heart."
"They're not my words, Nathaniel. They came from your father. Taregan gave them to me, on the chance you were ready to hear."
"I am ready, Mother. But too late to prevent Miren's abduction. As I was too late returning from the war, and too late for David." Nathan's throat tightened as he recognized the full force of his fear.
"What do you want?" Glenna's question was simple, but unexpected. A slow, cool thrill grew in Nathan's heart, until it turned to fire and filled his limbs with power.
"I want Miren. For my wife, forever."
"And what will you do to get her?"
Nathan smiled. "Whatever it takes."
"Then, yes. You are ready. Go."
Nathan urged his horse forward, but Molly caught his eye. She sat forlorn and small beside Simon, her round brown eyes plaintive as she gazed at Nathan. He wanted to help her. She was Miren's pet, Miren's friend.
"Get in the coach, Molly. As I remember, you favor coaches."
One ear drooped. Simon tapped the coach step. "Up, lass. Up you go!"
Molly slunk backwards, refusing. "Pick her up, Simon. We can't leave her here."
Simon picked the little collie up and stuffed her in the coach. He tried to shut the door, but Molly hopped out again. She positioned herself by Nathan's horse and barked.
"No, Molly. You go with Simon."
She barked again.
"It's too far. You can't walk the whole way. I'll be riding fast."
"Lad, you're arguing with a dog. And a slackabout dog, at that."
Molly issued one pert bark and nudged the horse's pastern.
Nathan sighed. Miren's dog was as stubborn as she was. "All right. You win . . . I can always carry you sidesaddle . . ."
The route from Oban back to Inveraray was made longer by the necessity of circumventing the long, thin body of water, Loch Awe. Nathan judged the time he could save by a direct route, the route unexpected. The Iroquois didn't survive by doing the expected, and Nathan chose his own path.
He chose the Highland pass, cutting east over the hills between the Firth of Lorne and Loch Awe. Patterson had taken the longer route by necessity. The coach road went slightly north from Oban, then cut east between Loch Etive and Loch Awe. From Dalmally on the northern rim of Loch Awe, Patterson would head south to Inveraray.
Nathan chose a shorter route. He rode straight from Oban, aiming for the central band of Loch Awe. There, he would attempt something only an Indian would dare.
Man, horse, and dog would swim the loch, and take the shortcut to the MacCallum estate. It was a risk. If he lost the horse, his journey would continue on foot. And he might then arrive no sooner than Patterson.
It was a risk he had to take.
Nathan rode like the wind. The duke had found the finest, strongest horse in Oban, and Nathan pressed it to its limits. Molly ran tirelessly beside the horse, never lagging. They stopped an hour after darkness, then rose at the first glimmer of dawn to press onward.
Nathan reached the shores of Loch Awe sooner than he expected. His horse was exhausted, and showing signs of lameness. Nathan dismounted at the bank and gazed across the water. He judged the distance a long swim, but one he could manage.
He ran his hands over the horse's legs. He found a puffy, blistered swelling inside the left front cannon bone. "Damn." Nathan stroked the horse's neck. "You've gotten me this far, my friend. I've asked more than I should already."
He could press the animal forward. The horse was well trained and willing. He'd go on until he dropped. "I don't even know your name."
"Creatures deserve our respect, sir. Names are symbolic of that respect."
Nathan pulled off the saddle. "I name you Tionontoguen. It is an Iroquois name for 'valley between mountains.' I honor your service, and set you free."
Nathan removed the bridle, and Tionontoguen eyed him doubtfully. "Go."
The horse didn't move. Nathan sighed. "Graze?"
The horse seized a shrub and munched thoughtfully. Molly looked at Nathan, then at the horse. She barked once, loudly, and the horse startled. It trotted a few strides away, then resumed grazing.
Nathan patted Molly's head. "We honor Miren by respecting what she believes, Molly. And when I see her again, I'll tell her my life belongs to her."
Nathan removed his boots and tied them to his waist. "By the time we reach the other side, it will be dark. If we start now, we'll rest on the other side, and be dry by morning."
He climbed down the bank and tested the water. "Cold, but no colder than the Genesee River in New York." Nathan dove into the water, and emerged shuddering. "Remind me to tell Simon about this."
Molly lingered on the bank, reluctant to enter the cold water. "Molly, I've got to go. Miren needs me. She needs you, too."
Molly took mincing steps into the water, stopped, then jumped. She sank beneath the surface, popped up in terror, and sank again. Nathan dove and swam back to shore. Hecaught her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her to the bank.
"You can't swim. All dogs swim." Nathan bowed his head. He eyed the dark water. It was a long swim alone. Carrying a dog . . . "I'm sorry, Molly. You'll have to stay behind."
He started to the water again, but she followed him.
Nathan sat down on a flat rock, shivering, his hair hanging in his eyes. "I look at Molly and I see goodness, something of value. So I can't allow you to say my dog is useless. She is the best thing in my life."
Nathan picked Molly up and carried her to the water. It felt colder the second time. He gazed across the loch. It looked wider than it had before, but he trudged deeper, wincing when his foot hit sharp rocks. He sank into the icy depths, positioned the collie under one arm, and began to swim.
I am not a water dog. If possible, I am less a water dog than a herding dog. Never have I been so cold, so wet, and so miserable.
Nathan swims well. He managed to cross the wide, dark, and cold water submerging me only three times. I scratched violently to keep us both afloat. He spoke severely, but he didn't release me. I found much of the swim relaxing, actually. Once I realized he wouldn't let go, I was able to hang my body limp and float along.
The only explanation for our crossing is that the young mistress is on the other side. Yet when we finally reached the far bank, no one was in sight. Nathan hung his clothes over branches, his boots upside-down, and he lay down to sleep.
We woke at dawn. Actually, I woke before dawn and roused Nathan. He issued a torrent o
f complaints, but he rose and we started off again. We ran toward the sun. Nathan ran like a hunter, and I, a hunting dog.
Perhaps I was wrong. When the need arose, I was a water dog. Then I became a hunting dog. I am what I want to be.
So I will cling to the hope that we will find Miren, and I will at last become a house pet. There is only one thing I'll never be, of that I'm sure. I will never be a herding dog . . .
Miren woke with a start. The coach lurched over the rough road, then steadied again. It moved slowly because the horses were exhausted. The coachman had advised Patterson to rest them, but he insisted they move on. The coachman resorted to lashing their backs at every stride when they balked at the steep hills heading south from Dalmally.
Even Patterson's grisly hired prisoner had more sympathy than the doctor. Yet Patterson seemed so calm. Never maniacal, never insane. He plotted his actions with a cold, brutal logic. Miren studied him as he slept, not like a captive, but like a Renaissance scientist studying the starsbeyond comprehension, yet still fascinating.
Her hands and feet were bound, so she could pose no threat to him while he slept. She wondered if she could kill him, should the chance arise. She knew, with disappointment and acceptance, that she could not. Not in cold blood, while he slept. Yet to save Nathan . . . or perhaps anyone Patterson threatened . . . she wouldn't hesitate.
It is because I value life, even in its most elemental form. Patterson's soul was a speck, it bore no kindness within. Yet there was a chance, after eons of time perhaps, that that speck might grow and develop, and learn to value what it once shunned.
A cool, bright realization grew in Miren's thoughts. It doesn't matter what he does to me, if I live or if I die. As Patterson's soul was a speck, her own grew fuller and brighter as she acted in accord with what she held true. When she resisted the longing to kill him, just as she once resisted the fear that would have made her his mistress, her soul reached toward heaven, and heaven answered.
Heaven gave her Nathan. She loved him, and she'd seen inside his heart. That was forever, and death couldn't dim itspower. Heaven gave her Molly, and she'd shared her life with a small, loving dog. She was, no matter what the new day brought, a fortunate woman.
