Summer of Love

by Gian Bordin

  "I need to relieve myself."

  "Wait, I want to come with you."

  For an instant, Helen was tempted to simply run off, but then abandoned the thought quickly. All men would be looking for her within minutes. So, she waited for her mother to join her, and then returned to her mattress, unable to find sleep. She began to curse herself for having met Andrew a second time. This wouldn’t have happened if she had been strong enough.

  The men returned to the lochan the next day and the day after. There was still no body, nor any report of Andrew’s return to the inn. Helen was getting more and more desperate. She needed to know what had happened to him.

  On the fourth day, Mary ordered Helen to return to the shielings. She was glad to get away from her mother and the other women. Every glance of theirs conveyed an accusation, a reproach, disdain. But more importantly, she finally saw an opportunity to check if Andrew was still in the cave. So, rather than go directly to the shielings, she went first to the lochan. Not a ripple broke the water’s smooth surface, which mirrored their rock in its stark beauty. Carefully, she scanned the ridges surrounding the glen. There was no soul in sight. She quickly ran around the lake to the hidden entrance of the cave. Another check to assure herself that she wasn’t followed, and she ducked behind the bushes and crawled into the passage. It was blocked by a rock. For a moment she was confused. Then she recognized it as one of the shelves. Andrew must have placed it there. So, he was still inside. Softly, she called his name. No answer. She called again.

  "Wait, Helen. I’ll open up," came his muffled response.

  The rock was slowly moved away an inch and then toppled onto its side, freeing the entrance. She crawled through. For a moment she could only see bright beams of light slicing through the darkness in the cave. Then slowly her eyes adjusted and she saw him kneeling in front of her. He wanted to embrace her.

  "No, Andrew. I’ve to hurry. I only brought you a bite to eat, and want to warn you that father has somebody watching the inn. You must get away quickly!"

  "Helen, I can’t walk that far. I got a bullet wound in my thigh."

  "Show me! Is it festering?" she asked anxiously. Only then did she notice that he wasn’t wearing his leather breeches, but only short cloth pants, a kind she had never seen before.

  "No, I don’t think so. I took the bullet out and cleaned the wound with the brandy I had in my little flask."

  She removed the primitive bandage. "It looks ugly, but thank God there’s no reddening."

  She wrapped her own kerchief tightly around the wound. Suddenly, she heard a noise from the entrance. They turned and faced a grinning Robert, his pistol trained on Andrew.

  "Your mother was right when she said you would lead me straight to your lover boy," he sneered.

  Helen moved to shield Andrew. Robert growled: "Move away, lass, or you’ll get it too. You deserve it!"

  Helen faced him defiantly. "Then you have to kill us both!"

  "Helen, do as he tells you, please!" urged Andrew. "I don’t want you to get hurt."

  "Yes, listen to your lover boy, lass!"

  Reluctantly, Helen rose, grabbing a handful of fine sand.

  "So I didn’t get you last time. I won’t fail this time." He raised his pistol for better aim. "This is to avenge my father."

  "No!" she shouted while throwing the sand into Robert’s face. He swore and, half-blinded, fired the pistol. Andrew immediately dropped to the side and the bullet hissed harmlessly past him, ricocheting on the wall behind. Helen threw another handful of sand, while Andrew lunged for Robert. Filling the cave with his swearing, Robert quickly overpowered the weakened and injured Andrew despite his impaired sight. His hands closed around Andrew’s throat. The latter frantically tried to pull them away, but the grip slowly tightened. Helen saw his face begin to redden and bloat, as he gagged. She grabbed the nearest rock and hit Robert on the back of his head. His grip loosened and he collapsed slowly on top of Andrew. Coughing, Andrew pushed him away.

  "Did I kill him?" Helen whispered hoarsely, still holding the rock in both her hands.

  Andrew checked Robert’s pulse. "No, you only stunned him… Helen, you saved my life."

  He tried to take her in his arms, but she resisted, pushing him away.

  "No, Andrew, don’t. He may not be alone."

  Her call brought a timely reminder of their danger. Not only might Robert regain consciousness any time, but they could still be trapped if he hadn’t come alone. Andrew removed Robert’s kerchief and tied his hands tightly behind his back. He used the cord of Roberts trews to tie his legs. In the meantime, Helen cautiously went outside to check.

  "He came alone," she said after crawling back in. "Andrew, you have to flee. If Robert doesn’t return to the clachan, they’ll surely search for him."

  "I can’t walk back to Killin—not yet. Where’s my horse?"

  "It’s at the clachan."

  "Do you think that you could bring it to me?"

  She hesitated for a moment. There was no way she could get it away during the day. "I’ll try to bring it tonight… Andrew, why didn’t you leave? Why did you come back?"

  "Because I love you. Life without you isn’t worth living. I only regret that I now put you into danger too… Helen, come with me! Come with me to America!"

  She didn’t want to answer. What could she say that she hadn’t said before? He reached for her, but she quickly ducked into the cave entrance, saying: "I’ll be back tonight." And then she left.

  * * *

  She was jumpy and apprehensive all day. Would she be able to get Andrew’s horse away from the clachan without anybody noticing it? The dogs might raise the alarm, unless they recognized her, but she would rather not get that close to the cottages. And what about Robert? She would have to free him after Andrew was away safely. He might harm her. Maybe it would be better to tell her father where to find him.

  But what would her father do to her when he found out? He had a violent streak, and it wasn’t beyond him to harm her. He might even kill her. Would mother protect her? A shudder went up her spine when she thought of her mother’s betrayal. Was she willing to have her own son killed, even help in his killing? Should she tell her he was not her son or would it only make things worse?

  The day passed slowly. She didn’t confide in Betty, who wanted to know if Andrew had been found yet, saying that she hoped he got away safely.

  Late afternoon, while the two sisters made cheese, their mother arrived. Looking accusingly at Helen, she immediately asked: "Has Robert been here?"

  Helen answered quickly: "Yes, he came shortly after I got here, but left soon afterward. I think he went up to the lochan." She prayed that Betty wouldn’t give her away, but her sister did not even look up from her work.

  "And he hasn’t come back?"

  "No … Did you send him after me? To spy on me?" The words gushed out before she could stop herself, her anger at her mother suddenly coming to a boil. "How could you, mother?"

  "You know why! You brought this all upon yourself, lass. If you hadn’t encouraged master Andrew, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’s dead, it’s your fault!"

  "I told you I didn’t meet him. How many times do I have to repeat it?" She met her mother’s accusing look defiantly. She wasn’t going to give herself away, not now.

  "I don’t believe you, lass!" Mary turned away and left the hut.

  When she was out of hearing range, Helen whispered: "Thank you, Betty."

  Her sister answered smiling sadly. "You found Andrew, haven’t you?"

  "Yes, but it’s better if you know nothing, Betty."

  "But he’s safe, isn’t he?"

  "I hope he’ll be soon."

  Her sister nodded, and both went back to their work.

  * * *

  Shortly after their evening meal, their father and brothers came up from the clachan. Helen’s anxiety rose immediately.

  "Has anybody seen Robert this afternoon?" asked Dougal without offering any
greetings.

  "No," answered Betty. "Mother already asked about him earlier today. Why are you all looking for him?"

  Helen admired her sister’s cool response.

  "Because he has not been seen since this morning," snarled Dougal. "Come, lads, let’s go to the lochan. He might still be there."

  As they marched off, Helen hoped fervently that they wouldn’t discover her tracks to the cave, nor that they would search all night.

  * * *

  When the night cloaked the shielings in darkness and their youngest brother was sound asleep, Helen whispered to Betty that she would be away for a few hours. Her sister hugged her and simply answered: "Be careful, Helen!"

  She descended to the glen and hid in the shelter of the copse wood above the clachan. The moon was close to full and bathed the glen in its cold, silvery light, creating sharp contrasts of bluish greys and blacks, but lacking any depth. There were no lights in any of the cottages. Her father and brothers must have given up the search for Robert for the night.

  She saw Andrew’s horse grazing alone in an enclosed paddock above the crop fields, far enough away from the cottages for the dogs not to be disturbed if she moved carefully.

  She realized that there was no way to retrieve the saddle from the cottage wall, where her father had hung it. Andrew would have to ride without. After waiting a few minutes, gathering courage, she slowly sneaked up to the horse and grabbed its bridle, talking soothingly to it. A single bark of a dog made her freeze for a minute or two. But it wasn’t followed up by another. So, she slowly led the horse to the edge of the paddock, hiding behind it away from the cottages. Once in the safety of the woods, she took the path to the lochan, initially going slowly to avoid any noise, and then striding out as fast as her breath would carry her.

  Andrew awaited her at the entrance to the cave. She didn’t resist his embrace. They remained in each other’s arms for a long time. Finally, she broke away and whispered: "Andrew, you must leave now."

  "Helen, you’re coming with me," he said in a matter of fact voice.

  "No, Andrew, I cannot. You must hurry. There’s no time to lose! The men will all come searching again for Robert in the morning."

  Andrew put his hands on her shoulders. "I won’t leave without you. There’s nothing for me out there alone!" His tone was resigned and calm. He folded his arms again around her and held her close. "They’ll kill you when they find out you helped me escape. We might as well die together … here!"

  He kissed her. She struggled to free herself. Dimly Robert’s muffled screams of rage reached her ears. He must have heard them talking. She saw in her mind his angry, red face. A paralyzing fear took hold of her, fear of Robert’s violence that seemed to lurk under the surface, so easily provoked to boil over; fear of her father; fear for herself. They’ll kill me! She was sure of that. And if Andrew doesn’t leave, they’ll kill him too.’The strength that had kept her going all day suddenly drained away. She slackened in Andrew’s arms.

  "Take me with you, Andrew." Her whisper was almost inaudible, but the increased pressure of his embrace and the sudden pounding of his heart told her that he understood. Having said the unspeakable, going against her own blood, she knew that this was what she had wanted all along, but hadn’t dared to admit to herself. With a gentle touch, he raised her chin and kissed her.

  11

  Robert’s renewed outburst of muffled shouting shattered their moment of closeness, of finding each other.

  "Why does he sound so strange?" asked Helen.

  "I gagged him just after you left … as a precaution."

  "What are we going to do about him? … We can’t leave him in there."

  "No, we’ll have to bring him outside some way, … but without untying him. Your folks will find him when they come looking for him in the morning."

  "Yes, but how can we get him through the narrow passage, without untying him?"

  "I’ll have to drag him."

  They crawled back into the cave, where Helen lit a fir candle with the embers she had brought along. Robert’s hatred suddenly became a stark reality. Its intensity, glaring fiercely from his distorted face as he tried to voice threats and abuse through the gag, hit her like a physical assault.

  Andrew approached him. "We’ll take you outside so that your people will find you when they come searching for you." He though wondered how. Pulling the tall man through the narrow opening was easier said than done. With his arms tied behind, the obvious manner of dragging him on his back became impossible. He would have to retie them at the front. But he didn’t trust Robert to cooperate to that extent, nor did he think that Helen would fire Robert’s pistol if the latter resisted. He would have no choice but to drag him on his stomach.

  Suddenly, without warning, Robert kicked with his tied feet. Only Andrew’s instant reaction saved him from being hit hard in the groin. He tried again, this time coming from behind. With surprising agility, Robert swivelled around and kicked again, barely missing. Helen watched in dismay.

  "You’ve a choice. Either you cooperate and let me drag you from the cave or I leave you in here to rot." A hard tone had crept into Andrew’s voice, a tone that was unfamiliar to her. He approached Robert again. When the latter pulled back his legs for another kick, Andrew turned, saying: "As you wish!"

  He took the fir candle and said: "Come, Helen. We’ve to hurry."

  She was on the verge to protest and then noticed that he shook his head almost imperceptibly. They had not reached the cave exit when Robert’s muffled protests called them back.

  "You want to cooperate?" asked Andrew with a wry smile.

  Robert nodded vigorously.

  "But I’ll give you only one chance. Resist once more, and I’ll leave you here. Take my word!"

  Robert nodded again emphatically. Fear overlaid the hatred in his face.

  "All right! Roll onto your stomach then."

  After some hesitation, the big lad did. Andrew approached him cautiously, fully prepared for another trick. But Robert did not move. It was hard, awkward work to pull the heavy protesting lad inch by inch through the tunnel. Once outside, he hauled him by the shoulders to a highly visible spot at the bottom of the path leading up to the rock. There he removed the gag. Instantly, Robert began to swear and cuss.

  "You whore, you’ll pay for this. Don’t think you’ll get away." In his rage he failed to breathe properly and broke into a violent cough. "You won’t get far, I promise. I’ll follow you to the end of the world and kill your lover boy slowly. Tear his balls off one by one, you slut. Cut his cock." He had another attack of coughing. "Whoring around a month before our wedding, while I slave away building us a nice cottage. You ungrateful bitch! I should’ve shown you who’s the master right after the dance. You’ll get a hiding you’ll never forget, and then I’ll show him how a real man ravishes a woman. I’ll strangle him slowly, and you’ll beg me to kill you too. You deceiving whore, lying to me, making me the laughing stock of the McNabbs and the Campbells. I’ll show them how a MacGregor deals with a slut like you."

  Helen held her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the flood of abuse, while Andrew simply ignored him.

  Hampered by his injury, he needed Helen’s help to mount the horse and then pulled her up behind him. She put both arms around his waist and clasped her legs around the horse’s rump as best as she could. As he turned the horse away from the lochan, Robert yelled: "I ravished her, lover boy, and she wanted more. She’s probably with child already! My child!"

  Andrew did not respond.

  "He’s lying, Andrew," murmured Helen.

  "I know, Helen. He’s just a desperate fool." He kicked the horse into a trot. "Hold on tight, love."

  "You whore, I’ll get you! Kill you both. You won’t get far! … Whore … whore … whore!" Robert’s hoarse cussing followed them from afar, the echoes mocking them.

  He felt Helen shudder at his back and put his left hand reassuringly over hers, squeezing them. She rubbed h
er head against his shoulder.

  He rode rather carefully. Although he could easily find the path down to Achmore in the bright moonlight, they couldn’t afford any mishap and going more slowly now would do little to their chances of getting away safely. Both were silent, except for the occasional reassuring "I love you."

  Just as dawn suggested itself on the horizon, they crossed the Dochart above the falls, a few hundred feet west of Killin. Andrew reined the horse in the darkness of a clump of firs.

  "Helen, I think I should go alone to fetch my things at the inn. If anybody saw you there with me, they might get suspicious."

  "Yes, Andrew."

  "This is a good place for you to hide … or are you afraid to stay here alone for a while? I won’t be long."

  "No, I’m not afraid."

  She sounded subdued. He helped her down. All of a sudden, doubts assailed him about the wisdom of leaving her alone. It wasn’t so much that somebody might discover her. He was more afraid that she might change her mind about coming with him and leave. He clambered off the horse too and held her close, begging: "Helen, promise me by your love for me that you’ll stay here until I’ll come back and not run away? … Please, promise?"

  "I promise, Andrew. Don’t be long!"

  He hugged her. "I love you so, Helen!"

  "I love you too, Andrew!"

  * * *

  At the inn, Andrew made various attempts to raise somebody, knocking at doors and windows. Finally, the innkeeper opened the wicket of the main entrance.

  "Who makes such a racket? What do you want at this time of the night?"

  "It’s Andrew Campbell, I took a room with you some ten days ago. Please, Mr. Nichols, let me in!"

  For a moment, the innkeeper failed to react, then he exclaimed: "Master Andrew?" But caution quickly returned and he said: "Come closer so I can see you."

  Andrew complied, placing his face into the narrow cone of light falling through the opening. A few seconds later, the key turned in the lock and the door opened.