Yesterday's Promise

by Michele Paige Holmes

  It was the thought of him and the danger he might find himself in, weaponless as he was, that finally prodded me from the water. Still clutching his gun and my precious shoes I slogged to shore, what was left of my grey dress trailing behind, weighing me down. Once on shore I hid behind the larger boulders, crouched and shivering, then waited probably another hour in case the men returned. It wasn’t until a twittering hawfinch alerted me that the danger had passed that I allowed myself to set the pistol and knife aside and remove my wet dress.

  If the birds deemed it safe to resume their song, then it was likely no one else was near. I wrung my grey gown out as thoroughly as I could and spread it across a boulder to dry. At least I could keep from catching my death of cold. Today.

  Tonight would be another matter. Collin will return by then, I told myself resolutely. If not, it was unlikely I would be able to start a fire. I had his knife, but the flint was in his sporran.

  I slipped on my wet shoes and, wearing only those and my damp shift, returned the way I’d come, Collin’s pistol in my hand as I kept to the shore. My spear with the dead fish had floated to within easy reach, and I retrieved it now, grimacing as I peeled the stiff fish away. How had I not noticed before how poorly it looked?

  With the spear in one hand and the pistol in my other, I continued to our camp. Nothing remained except a handful of berries scattered on the ground and the dress the Murrays had tossed at Collin. I knelt and picked it up, not surprised to discover it was one of my own faded, too short frocks. No doubt Ian had given it to the Murrays when encouraging them to hunt me down.

  I wasted no time putting the dress on and felt immediately better— warmer and safer, now that I was properly covered again. How considerate of Ian to provide the Murrays with a dress for me, and how kind of them to have left it behind. I almost smiled.

  Be grateful in all the little things. One of my old pastor’s sermons came to mind. I doubted that being grateful for an old dress, a sharp stick, and a few berries were what he’d been referring to. Still, I found myself near to tears for the blessing of a dress that wasn’t soaked and the promise of something to eat.

  I gathered the few berries in my hand, then returned to my hiding place among the rocks. I traded the spear for Collin’s knife and went in search of the berries Collin had found. Surely the handfuls he’d returned with hadn’t been all that there were. With a clear example of what I was looking for squished in my palm, I felt confident I could find something that wasn’t going to poison me.

  It did not take long to locate the berry bushes. I alternately ate and stored the fruit, dropping every other berry I picked into a corner of my tied-up skirt. I wished I had Collin’s sporran with me, then instantly regretted the thought. That I’d left him defenseless was bad enough. I reasoned that the Murrays would have taken at least his pistol from him anyway, and perhaps they would not have believed his story as well, had Collin been discovered in better circumstances. But I’d done him wrong— not only in taking his weapons and abandoning him, but in my early morning grumpiness.

  Silently I berated myself as I recalled with angst my frustration with Collin’s laughter just hours before. What was the last thing I’d said to him? Had it been kind or hurtful? Had I still been upset?

  He’d left me behind because it was the only way to protect me. I believed that with all my heart. But it didn’t ease my fear or make my situation any less dire. Please come back to me. I’m sorry.

  I felt lonely and scared, too— more so when the sun reached its zenith, then started its trek west. Please don’t let me be alone tonight.

  With all the berries I could carry, and with the hawfinches still chirping their assurance that all was well in this part of the wood, I began to make my way back toward the beach. Maybe I could try to catch another fish. Perhaps I should gather wood for a fire— that I’d not be able to light. Definitely I should find a better place to hide and one in which I might stay warm and dry if the clouds threatening from the north turned to rain.

  Just before I left the forest, the chittering of the birds became increasingly loud. I looked to my left and saw the reason why— a nest lay in a clump of wild bushes. It rested nearly on its side, at an odd angle, giving the impression that it had fallen from the tree above. I was close enough to touch the nest, and the mama bird was not pleased.

  Eggs. I hesitated and met her eyes, pleading with me to leave her family alone, untouched. But those eggs might be the difference between me starving or not, and the nest would make a fine kindling. I hesitated, some deep-rooted survival instincts having taken hold in me the past hours. This felt like a gift from God. Yet I did not want to take it. Killing a fish was one thing. Taking a mother’s eggs and home was another.

  With a sigh that was part relief, part an admission of failure, I continued on, leaving the nest behind. It might be that I had to come back for it. But for now, berries would suffice for the one meal of my day.

  * * *

  The nest gave me an idea that I spent the remainder of the day focused on. I would build a nest for myself, using the pine needles and last season’s leaves that were plentiful on the forest floor. I gathered pile after pile and hauled them to a crevice between the rock— the spot I’d deemed close enough to our previous camp that I could see if Collin returned. It was also near to the water— important, as I had no pouch to hold water, and it was a place to stay hidden and also sheltered from the wind. If the rain came, I would be wet, but there was nothing to be done for that. I’d solved two of three problems and told myself it was the best I could do.

  Night came, and my head pounded, not from any impending danger or warning, but from true hunger. I’d not been particularly full on our journey, but neither had I felt the gnawing ache or nausea I experienced now. I thought of the MacDonalds, of women like me, and especially of little children. Collin had said they were starving. I had not understood— perhaps I still didn’t. But I felt a kinship with them now and a concern for their plight. I wanted Collin to have my grandfather’s money to help them.

  I curled up between the rocks and raked the leaves and needles over my feet and legs. It wasn’t comfortable, but it did bring a little warmth. My grey dress had long since dried. I wrapped it around my shoulders, though it was a poor substitute for Collin, a fire, and our shared blanket.

  Where are you? Are you all right? Tears fell, and yearning overtook me. If ever I saw my husband again, if Collin returned to me safely, I would kiss him. I would tell him how I felt. I would allow myself to love him freely and trust that we could conquer whatever obstacles lay in our path to happiness, be they Campbells, MacDonalds, Murrays or anyone else. I’d told Collin he didn’t have to walk alone anymore, but I hadn’t truly shown that with my actions yet.

  Please give me the chance to, I prayed throughout the long, cold night.

  With the knowledge that I was in the wrong, that somehow— since the turn of events binding me with his granddaughter— my life was no longer my first priority, I turned away from the laird and bent over my chair.

  His first strike felt like fire. I clenched my teeth and stared straight ahead, past the leering face of a lad about my age who stood at the far wall.

  In planning to leave this place, I had ignored what was now the single truth guiding my actions: Katie’s life came first.

  The second strike came, harder than the first. Then another and another, each swift and strong. My fingers curled around the back of the chair, and I tasted blood on my lip as I bit down to keep from crying out. He intended to beat the promise into me, to make certain I never forgot again.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It wasn’t birdsong, but a horse’s nickering that woke me in the morning. The sun was barely up, and someone— or more than one someone possibly— was nearby. Pine needles poked through my already torn stockings, prickling my skin, some drawing blood. Silently I plucked a few away, realizing too late the noise they would make when I moved.

  I’d slept with Co
llin’s pistol in hand and kept it there now while my other grabbed clumps of the needles and pushed them aside. I would have to move to see who or what was nearby.

  My hope that it was Collin was quickly fading, as he hadn’t called out to me. I maneuvered slowly in the small space until I could look through a crack in the side. Ian’s horse was the first thing that came into view, and tears of relief sprang to my eyes.

  Where is Collin?

  I spied him a second later, moving laboriously along the shore, then back to the wood, then to shore again. He was tracking me, looking for clues— clues I had not been as careful to cover as I should have. Were the dogs to return, my scent would have been everywhere and eventually led them to this very spot. In my consuming desire to spend a warm night, I had neglected other, equally important survival skills.

  “Col—” The joyous cry died in my throat. An all-too-familiar warning crept along my spine.

  He glanced my direction, and my heart thudded painfully. I had to be wrong. No one else was around. Why had I sensed danger? Why is Collin not calling out for me? The feeling persisted, spiking between my eyes in a painful burst.

  Perhaps deciding he hadn’t heard anything after all, Collin continued his methodical search while behind him—

  I bit back a scream as I scrambled to my knees and took aim at one of the men from the previous day, knife in his hand as he shadowed Collin’s movements.

  My hands shook. I wedged the pistol in the crevice of rock to steady it. One chance. My finger wrapped around the trigger in an eerie replay of that night in the carriage.

  Collin was perhaps twenty paces away now. His face appeared haggard, eyes ringed with dark circles as he focused on his search. His hands hung at his side, clenching and unclenching.

  This way. Come this way, I willed silently when his tracking led him to the right. No room for error. I dared not lower the gun. Collin paused, spied something on the ground, squatted. I pulled the trigger.

  The shot echoed. I flew back, landing on the bed of pine needles. I grabbed the knife and jumped up to meet Collin’s astonished face as he leapt over the rock toward me.

  “Katie!”

  I reached for him. He tumbled into my hiding place on top of me.

  I clutched his shoulders. “There was a man behind you.”

  Collin wrenched the pistol from the crevice where it had stuck and took the knife from me. “Stay here.” He was gone as quickly as he’d come. I feared for him, for us both. Where were the other two Murrays he’d encountered yesterday?

  Keeping low, Collin dodged between the boulders, then scurried behind the tree line. I glimpsed him as he ran in the direction I’d fired.

  Please let him be all right. I prayed for both Collin and the man I’d shot. I’d felt so relieved when Malcom died, but I didn’t feel that now. I didn’t want to have killed someone. I only wanted to keep him from harming Collin.

  Minutes passed. I felt like a coward waiting when Collin might need me. When I hadn’t listened to him, I’d endangered both of us. But sitting here doing nothing felt wrong, too. At last Collin reappeared, walking briskly toward me. I stood up and ran to meet him. My expression must have asked what I could not voice, for he shook his head.

  “Your aim has improved,” he said solemnly. “Rab will have a devil of a time riding with that shoulder. But he’ll live. I’ve patched him up enough that he’ll be all right until he gets help.”

  I let out a breath of relief. “Does he know who shot him?”

  “He does now,” Collin said, his expression grim. “All the more reason for us to leave Murray land as quickly as possible.”

  “Where are his brothers?” I asked uneasily. We were still outnumbered, and now they had even more reason to hate me.

  “Headed to find Ian, if I’m correct. In any case, they’re not here. They split up yesterday afternoon.” Collin reached behind me to grab the grey dress that had fallen from my shoulders when I ran to him. He helped me onto Ian’s horse, put the dress across my lap, and climbed up behind me.

  “We’ve got to ride hard,” he said. “They argued last night whether or not to return to our camp. Rab drew the short straw and had to go back. But when he doesn’t return they’ll come looking for him.”

  My stomach churned in spite of its emptiness. Collin reached around me and took the reins, heading us in the opposite direction he had gone yesterday.

  “Won’t this way take us deeper into Murray land?” I recalled the crude clan map he’d drawn for me in the dirt a few days past.

  “It will, but the other direction leads us straight to Hamish and Gordon. We’ll cut over at some point. Though we’ll not be to your home today as I’d promised.”

  Another delay before we confronted Brann. I ought to have felt relieved. Instead the reality that I’d just earned us another, very real enemy settled inside of me like a stone in the bottom of a river.

  * * *

  In all our days of travel we’d never ridden so hard. Several times Collin had to coax Ian’s horse along.

  “I do not like to abuse the animal,” Collin said the one time he allowed us to rest and Ian’s horse to stop and take water. “I rode him like a madman yesterday— far enough out that the Murrays could follow my trail and be convinced I’d truly gone on my way. Then I drove the poor creature through the night over the worst possible terrain so I could end at the loch again by morning.”

  Collin’s night had been worse than mine. He had to be as exhausted as the horse.

  Instead of complaining, he stroked the animal. “Apples, carrots, and oats for you my friend, when we’ve completed our journey.”

  When would that be? I could no longer fathom how far we’d traveled. I trusted that Collin knew how to get us home— wherever that might be— and despite our dire circumstances took a moment to appreciate his knowledge of the land, the clans, and our country.

  “You must be starved. When did you last eat?” Collin had dug through his sporran and produced a handful of oats, likely our last.

  “Give them to him.” I nodded toward the stallion. “He has more need than I.”

  Collin hesitated only a second, then held his hand out to the horse. “A paltry offering, I know, boy.” When his palm was empty he stroked the animal again.

  Belatedly I remembered my own paltry offering, forgotten in the haste of the morning’s flight. I bent down and untied the corner of my dress. “Berries,” I offered, pressing the fabric back as I held it up. Only days ago I would have been appalled at such immodesty, but now the thought that Collin might see my ankles was of little consequence.

  “You found them, I see.” Collin stuck a finger in and came up with some of the well-mashed concoction. “Too bad we don’t have a crust for a pie.”

  “Don’t speak of pies.” I held an arm across my empty stomach. “Did you drop a few of the berries on purpose for me to find?”

  “Aye. It was the only thing I could think to do for you. That and leave the dress behind and hope the Murrays did as well. When the dogs lost your scent at the loch, I figured you were hidden somewhere wet.”

  “Did you see where I’d gone?” I asked.

  Collin shook his head. “At first I didn’t know what had become of you. My heart near stopped when I came out of the wood and saw only Murrays. I’ve never been so relieved in all my life as when Rab asked where you were. I knew then that you must be all right. You had a bit of warning, aye?”

  “Yes. A very last-minute warning.” My stomach clenched at the reminder, lessening my appetite for smashed berries or anything else. I tied up the corner of my dress again.

  “I am sorry I had to leave you and sorry you had to use the pistol today,” Collin said. “I knew Rab was following me and was hoping to reach you before he did. I’m not sure what I would have done if you’d used that shot already.”

  “I didn’t dare. I didn’t attempt a fire either. Not that I’d have been able to get one started,” I added.

  A corner of Co
llin’s mouth lifted. “In that tinder pile you were sitting on, and with a few strikes of my knife against a rock, it’s very likely you could have started one. But I’m glad you didn’t. Murrays are cunning devils. I knew when they let me go so easily they were up to no good.”

  “They stayed another hour at least and came very close to finding me.” I hugged my arms to myself, remembering the dog so close I might have reached out to touch him. Yet again, somehow Collin and I had both survived. I also remembered the promises I’d made to myself were we to be reunited.

  I hesitated another second, then stepped forward. As I had after our fishing lesson, I placed my hands on his shirt front and looked up at him, hoping the intent was clear in my eyes. Raising up on my toes, I shyly pressed my lips to his, lingering perhaps a second or two longer than was proper. Then I wrapped my arms around his waist and held tight. His arms came around me, crushing me to him.

  “Katie.” My whispered name sounded like an endearment as he bent his head close to mine.

  “I love you, Collin MacDonald. Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “I won’t. I was so frightened I’d lost y—” He stepped back suddenly, holding me away from him as he looked into my eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I— love you.” My eyes filled with tears. So much for promising not to cry all the time. “I don’t know what will happen to us— if the Murrays will find us first or Ian, or if Brann is lying in wait somewhere. I don’t want to wait anymore to tell you what I feel. I want you to know, now and always, no matter how long that is. I’ll take whatever time we have together.” I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “A few weeks ago I didn’t even remember who Collin MacDonald was. But now I do, and being together is so much more, much better, than anything I ever imagined.” The words tumbling from me didn’t sound right. They weren’t enough. I felt helpless to adequately explain and worried I had ruined the kiss by following it with such an awkward, impassioned speech.