He let out the breath he hadnt realized he was holding, put his hands on the solid wooden floor to either side, closed his eyes, and let it all drain away.
No looking back. Theyd made their decision, and theyd made it here. To sanctuary.
So now what?
Hed lived in this cabin once, for a long time. Now he supposed hed build a new one; Jamie had told him last night that the land Governor Tryon had given him was still his, registered in his name.
A small thrill of anticipation rose in his heart. The day lay before him; the beginning of a new life. What should he do first?
Daddy! a voice with a lot of spit whispered loudly in his ear. Daddy, I hafta go potty!
He sat up smiling, pushing cloaks and shirts out of the way. Mandy was hopping from foot to foot in agitation, a small black bird, solid against the shadows.
Aye, sweetheart, he whispered back, and took her hand, warm and sticky. Ill take ye to the privy. Try not to step on anybody.
MANDY HAD ENCOUNTERED quite a few privies by now, and wasnt put off by this one. When Roger opened the door, though, a huge spider dropped suddenly from the lintel and hung swaying like a plumb bob, inches from his face. He and Mandy both screamedwell, she did; his own effort was no more than a croak, but a manly croak, at least.
There was no real light yet; the spider was a black blob with an impression of legs, but all the more alarming for that. Alarmed in turn by their cries, the spider hurried back up its thread into whatever invisible recess it normally occupied.
Not going in dere! Mandy said, backing up against his legs.
Roger shared her feelings, but taking her off the trail into the bushes in the dark held the threat not only of further (and possibly larger) spiders, or snakes and bats, but also of the things that hunted in the crepuscule. Panthers, for instance Aidan McCallum had entertained them earlier with a story about meeting a painter on his way to the privy this privy.
Its all right, honey. He bent and picked her up. Its gone. Its afraid of us, it wont come back.
I scared!
I know, sweetie. Dont worry; I dont think it will come back, but Ill kill it if it does.
Wif a gun? she asked hopefully.
Yes, he said firmly, and clutching her to his chest he ducked under the lintel, remembering too late Claires own story about the enormous rattlesnake perched on the seat of their privy
In the event, though, nothing untoward occurred, save his nearly losing Mandy down the hole when she let go her grip to try to wipe her bottom with a dried corncob.
Sweating slightly in spite of the chilly morning air, he made his way back to the cabin, to find that in his absence, the Higginsesand Jem and Germainhad risen en masse.
Amy Higgins blinked slightly when told that Brianna had gone a-hunting, but when Roger added that she had gone with her father, the look of surprise faded into a nod of acceptance that made Roger smile inwardly. He was glad to see that Himselfs personality still dominated the Ridge, despite his long absence; Claire had told him last night that theyd only come back from exile the month before.
Are there many new folk come to settle since we were last here? he asked Bobby, sitting down on the bench beside his host, bowl of porridge in his hand.
A mort of em, Bobby assured him. Twenty families, at least. A bit of milk and honey, Preacher? He pushed the honey pot companionably in Rogers directionbeing an Englishman, Bobby was allowed such frivolities with his breakfast, rather than the severe Scottish pinch of salt. Oh, sorryI should have asked, are you still a preacher?
A mort of em, Bobby assured him. Twenty families, at least. A bit of milk and honey, Preacher? He pushed the honey pot companionably in Rogers directionbeing an Englishman, Bobby was allowed such frivolities with his breakfast, rather than the severe Scottish pinch of salt. Oh, sorryI should have asked, are you still a preacher?
Claire had asked him that last night, but it still came as a surprise.
I am, aye, he said, and reached for the milk jug. In fact, both question and answer made his heart speed up.
He was a minister. He just wasnt sure how official he was. Granted, hed christened, married, and buried the people of the Ridge for a year or more, and preached to them, as well as doing the lesser offices of a minister, and theyd all thought of him as such; no doubt they still did. On the other hand, he was not formally ordained as a Presbyterian minister. Not quite.
Ill maybe call on the new folk, he said casually. Do ye ken whether theyre any of them Catholic, or otherwise? This was a rhetorical question; everyone on the Ridge knew the nature of everyone elses beliefsand werent at all shy of discussing them, if not always to their faces.
Amy plunked a tin mug of chicory coffee by his bowl and sat down to her own salted porridge with a sigh of relief.
Fifteen Catholic families, she said. Twelve Presbyterians and three Blue LightMethodies, aye? Yell want to watch out for thon folk, Preacher. Hmm oh, and maybe twa Anglicans Orrie! She sprang up, just in time to interrupt six-year-old Orrie, who had been stealthily, if unsteadily, lifting the full chamber pot above his head with the clear intent of emptying it over Jem, who was sitting cross-legged by the fire, blinking sleepily at the shoe in his hand.
Startled by his mothers cry, Orrie dropped the chamber potmore or less missing Jem but decanting its fetid contents into the newly stirred fireand ran for the door. His mother pursued him, pausing only to snatch up a broom. Enraged Gaelic shouts and high-pitched yelps of terror receded into the distance.
Jem, to whom morning was anathema, looked at the spluttering mess in the hearth, wrinkled his nose, and stood up. He swayed for a moment, then ambled to the table and sat down next to Roger, yawning.
There was silence. A charred log broke suddenly in the hearth and a spurt of sparks flew out of the mess, like a final comment on the state of things.
Roger cleared his throat.
Man that is born of woman is full of trouble as the sparks that fly upward, he observed.
Bobby slowly turned his head from contemplation of the hearth to look at Roger. His eyes were smoke-reddened, and the old M brand on his cheek showed white in the dim light of the cabin.
Well put, Preacher, he said. Welcome back.
IT WAS WHAT her mother called a blue wine day. One where air and sky were one thing together and every breath intoxication. Chestnut and oak leaves crackled with each step, the scent of them sharp as that of the pine needles higher up. They were climbing the mountain, guns in hand, and Brianna Fraser MacKenzie was one with the day.
Her father held back a hemlock branch for her, and she ducked past to join him.
Feur-milis, he said, gesturing to the wide meadow that opened out before them. Recall any of the Gàidhlig, do ye, lass?
You said something about the grass, she said, scrabbling hastily through her mental closets. But I dont know the other word.
Sweet Grass. Its what we call this wee meadow. Good pasture, but too great a climb for most of the stock, and ye dinna want to leave them here for days untended, because of painters and bears.
The whole of the meadow rippled, the silver-green heads of millions of grass stems in movement catching morning sun. Here and there, yellow and white butterflies cruised, and at the far side of the grass there was a sudden crash as some large ungulate vanished into the brush, leaving branches swaying in its wake.
A certain amount of competition as well, I see, she said, nodding toward the place where the animal had disappeared. She lifted an eyebrow, wanting to ask whether they should not pursue it, but assuming that her father had some good reason why not, since he made no move.
Aye, some, he said, and turned to the right, moving along the edge of the trees that rimmed the meadow. But deer dinna feed the same way cattle or sheep do, at least not if the pastures good. That was an old buck, he added offhandedly over his shoulder. We dinna need to kill those in summer; theres better meat and plenty of it.
She raised both brows but followed without comment. He turned his head and smiled at her.
Where theres one, there are likely more, this time o year. The does and the new fawns begin to gather into wee herds. Its nowhere near rut yet, but the bucks are always thinkin on it. He kens well enough where they are. He nodded in the direction of the vanished deer.
She suppressed a smile, recalling some of her mothers uncensored opinions on men and the functions of testosterone. He saw it, though, and gave her a half-rueful look of amusement, knowing what she was thinking, and the fact that he did sent a small sweet pang through her heart.
Aye, well, your mothers right about men, he said with a shrug. Keep it in mind, a nighean, he added, more seriously. He turned then, lifting his face into the breeze. Theyre near the meadow but downwind of us; we wont get near, save we climb up and come down on them from the far side of the ridge. He nodded toward the west, though, across the meadow. I thought wed maybe stop by Young Ians place first, though, if ye dinna mind?
Mind? No! She felt a surge of delight at the mention of her cousin. Somebody by the fire last night said hes married nowwho did he marry? She was more than curious about Ians wife; some ten years before, hed asked her to marry him, and while that had been a counsel of desperationand completely ridiculous, to bootshe was aware that the thought of bedding her hadnt been unwelcome to him. Later, with both of them adults and her married, him divorced from his Indian wife, a sense of physical attraction had been silently acknowledged between themand just as silently dismissed.
Still, there were echoes of fondness between them, and she hoped she would like Ians unknown wife.
Her father laughed. Yell like her, lass. Rachel Hunter is her name; shes a Quaker.
A vision of a drab little woman with downcast eyes came to her, but her father caught the look of doubt on her face and shook his head.
Shes no what yed think. She speaks her mind. And Ians mad in love wi herand she with him.
Oh. Thats good! She meant it, but her father cast her an amused glance, one brow raised. He said nothing further, though, and turned to lead the way through the rippling waves of fragrant grass.
IANS CABIN WAS charming. Not that it was markedly different from any other mountain cabin Brianna had ever seen, but it was sited in the midst of an aspen grove, and the fluttering leaves broke the sunlight into a flurry of light and shadow, so that the cabin had an air of magic about itas though it might disappear into the trees altogether if you looked away.