Four goats and two kids poked their heads over the fence of their pen and started a congenial racket of greeting, but no one came out to see who the visitors were.
Four goats and two kids poked their heads over the fence of their pen and started a congenial racket of greeting, but no one came out to see who the visitors were.
Theyve gone somewhere, Jamie remarked, squinting at the house. Is that a note on the door?
It was: a scrap of paper pinned to the door with a long thorn, with a line of incomprehensible writing that Bree finally recognized as Gaelic.
Is Young Ians wife a Scot? she asked, frowning at the words. The only ones she could make out wereshe thoughtMacCree and goat.
Nay, its from Jenny, her father said, whipping out his spectacles and scanning the note. She says she and Rachel are away to a quilting at the MacCrees and if Ian comes home before they do, will he milk the goats and set half the milk aside for cheese.
As though hearing their names called, a chorus of loud mehhs came from the goat pen.
Evidently Ians not home yet, either, Brianna observed. Do they need to be milked now, do you think? I probably remember how.
Her father smiled at the thought but shook his head. Nay, Jenny will ha stripped them no more than a few hours agotheyll do fine until the evening.
Until that moment, shed been idly supposing Jenny to be the name of a hired girlbut hearing the tone in which Jamie had said it, she blinked.
Jenny. Your sister Jenny? she said, incredulous. Shes here?
He looked mildly startled. Aye, she is. Im sorry, lass, I never stopped to think ye didna ken that. Shewait. He lifted a hand, looking at her intently. The letters. We wrotewell, Claire mostly wrote thembut
We got them. She felt breathless, the same feeling shed had when Roger had brought back the wooden box with Jemmys full name burned into the lid, and theyd opened it to find the letters. And the overwhelming sense of relief, joy, and sorrow when she opened the first letter to see the words, We are alive
The same feeling swept through her now, and tears took her unaware, so that everything around her flickered and blurred, as though the cabin and her father and she herself might be about to disappear altogether, dissolved into the shimmering light of the aspen trees. She made a small choking sound, and her fathers arm came round her, holding her close.
We never thought we should see ye again, he whispered into her hair, his own voice choked. Never, a leannan. I was afraidso afraid ye hadna reached safety, that yed died, all of ye, lost inin there. And wed never know.
We couldnt tell you. She lifted her head from his shoulder and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. But you could tell us. Those letters knowing you were alive. I mean She stopped suddenly and, blinking away the last of the tears, saw Jamie look away, blinking back his own.
But we werent, he said softly. We were dead. When ye read those letters.
No, you werent, she said fiercely, gripping his hand. I wouldnt read the letters all at once. I spaced them outbecause as long as there were still unopened letters you were still alive.
None of it matters, lass, he said at last, very softly. He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles, his breath warm and light on her skin. Yere here. So are we. Nothing else matters at all.
BRIANNA WAS CARRYING the family fowling piece, while her father had his good rifle. She wouldnt fire on any birds or small game, though, while there was a chance of spooking deer nearby. It was a steep climb, and she found herself puffing, sweat starting to purl behind her ears in spite of the cool day. Her father climbed, as ever, like a mountain goat, without the slightest appearance of strain, butto her chagrinnoticed her struggling and beckoned her aside, onto a small ledge.
Were in nay hurry, a nighean, he said, smiling at her. Theres water here. He reached out, with an obvious tentativeness, and touched her flushed cheek, quickly taking back his hand.
Sorry, lass, he said, and smiled. Im no used yet to the notion that yere real.
I know what you mean, she said softly. Swallowing, she reached out and touched his face, warm and clean-shaven, slanted eyes deep blue as hers.
Och, he said under his breath, and gently brought her into his arms again. They stood that way, not speaking, listening to the cry of ravens circling overhead and the trickling of water on rock.
Trobhad agus òl, a nighean, he said, letting go as gently as hed grasped her and turning her toward a tiny freshet that ran down a crevice between two rocks. Come and drink.
The water was icy and tasted of granite and the faint turpentine tang of pine needles.
Shed slaked her thirst and was splashing water on her flushed cheeks when she felt her father make a sudden movement. She froze at once, cutting her eyes at him. He also stood frozen, but he lifted both eyes and chin a little, signaling to the slope above them.
She sawand heardit then, a slow crumble of falling dirt that broke loose and hit the ledge beside her foot with a tiny rattle of pebbles. This was followed by silence, except for the calling of the ravens. That was louder, she thought, as though the birds were nearer. They see something, she thought.
They were nearer. A raven swooped suddenly, flashing unnervingly near her head, and another screamed from above.
A sudden boom from the outcrop overhead nearly made her lose her footing, and she grabbed a handful of sapling sticking out of the rock face by reflex. Just in time, too, for there was a thump and a slithering noise above, and at what seemed the same instant something huge fell past in a shower of dirt and gravel, bouncing off the ledge next to her in an explosion of breath, blood, and impact before landing with a crash in the bushes below.
Blessed Michael defend us, said her father in Gaelic, crossing himself. He peered down into the thrashing brush belowJesus, whatever it was, it was still alivethen up.
Weh! said an impassioned male voice from above. She didnt recognize the word, but she did know the voice, and joy burst over her.
Ian! she called. There was total silence from above, save for the ravens, who were getting steadily more upset.
Blessed Michael defend us, said a startled voice in Gaelic, and an instant later her cousin Ian had dropped onto their narrow ledge, where he balanced with no apparent difficulty.
It is you! she said. Oh, Ian!
A charaid! He grabbed her and squeezed tight, laughing in disbelief. God, its you! He drew back for an instant for a good look to confirm it, laughed again in delight, kissed her solidly, and resqueezed. He smelled like buckskin, porridge, and gunpowder, and she could feel his heart thumping against her own chest.
She vaguely heard a scrabbling noise, and as they let go of each other, she realized that her father had dropped off the ledge and was half sliding down the scree below it, toward the brush where the deerit must have been a deerhad fallen.
He halted for a moment at the edge of the brushy growththe bushes were still thrashing, but the movements of the wounded deer were growing less violentthen drew his dirk and, with a muttered remark in Gaelic, waded gingerly into the brush.
Its all rose briers down there, Ian said, peering over her shoulder. But I think hell make it in time to cut the throat. A Dhia, it was a bad shot and I was afraid Ibut what the devI mean, how is it yere here? He stood back a little, his eyes running over her, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he noted her breeches and leather hiking shoes, this fading as his eyes returned to her face, worried now. Is your man not with ye? And the bairns?
Yes, they are, she assured him. Rogers probably hammering things and Jems helping him and Mandys getting in the way. As for what were doing here The day and the joy of reunion had let her ignore the recent past, but the ultimate need of explanation brought the enormity of it all suddenly crashing in upon her.
Dinna fash, cousin, Ian said swiftly, seeing her face. Itll bide. Dye think ye recall how to shoot a turkey? Theres a band o them struttin to and fro like folk dancing Strip the Willow at a ceilidh, not a quarter mile from here.
Oh, I might. Shed propped the gun against the cliff face while she drank; the deers fall had knocked it over and she picked it up, checking; the fall had knocked the flint askew, and she reseated it. The thrashing below had stopped, and she could hear her fathers voice, in snatches above the wind, saying the gralloch prayer.
Hadnt we better help Da with the deer, though?
Ach, its no but a yearling buck, hell have it done before ye can blink. Ian leaned out from the ledge, calling down. Im takin Bree to shoot turkeys, a bràthair mo mhàthair!
Dead silence from below, and then a lot of rustling and Jamies disheveled head poked suddenly up above the rose briers. His hair was loose and tangled; his face was deeply flushed and bleeding in several places, as were his arms and hands, and he looked displeased.
Ian, he said, in measured tones, but in a voice loud enough to be easily heard above the forest sounds. Mac Ian mac Ian !
Well be back to help carry the meat! Ian called back. He waved cheerily and, grabbing the fowling piece, caught Brees eye and jerked his chin upward. She glanced down, but her father had disappeared, leaving the bushes swaying in agitation.
Shed lost much of her eye for the wilderness, she found; the cliff looked impassable to her, but Ian scrambled up as easily as a baboon, and after a moments hesitation, she followed, much more slowly, slipping now and then in small showers of dirt as she groped for the holds her cousin had used.
Ian mac Ian mac Ian? she asked, reaching the top and pausing to empty the dirt out of her shoes. Her heart was beating unpleasantly hard. Is that like me calling Jem Jeremiah Alexander Ian Fraser MacKenzie when Im annoyed with him?
Something like, Ian said, shrugging. Ian, son of Ian, son of Ian the notion is to point out yere a disgrace to your forefathers, aye? He was wearing a ragged, filthy calico shirt, but the sleeves had been torn off, and she saw a large white scar in the shape of a four-pointed star on the curve of his bare brown shoulder.
What did that? she said, nodding at it. He glanced at it and made a dismissive gesture, turning to lead her across the small ridge.