Roderick’s Purpose: The Victorian Highlanders Book 4

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Roderick felt his jaw drop. “Why would I want to stay? You know how hard I fought to come here.”

  “I know,” said Callum with a nod. “I am also equally aware of how desperately you would like to return home.” He held up a hand as Roderick began to protest. “I know you better than ye know yourself. You don’t have to explain anything. I know you are too proud to admit you were wrong. But you know what, Roderick, you had to come here, or else you would have spent your entire life wondering about what might have been. But now, you can return home and determine if you have chosen the right path — or not.”

  “I… I’m not sure what to do with myself should I return,” he said, and Callum — steady, sure Callum, always the brother who could be counted on for reason and reassurance — gave him his easy grin and put an arm on his shoulder. “You’ll find where you belong, Roderick,” he said. “We McDougalls always do.”

  * * *

  Gwen tapped her foot impatiently. Where were they? It seemed like they had left this cold, dreary room hours ago, though it likely had only been minutes — she had never been the most patient of women. Still, however, it had been some time and they had not returned. Was her request really that difficult?

  The three officers finally entered, and she could practically feel the tension simmering in the air between them. Whatever had happened outside this room, they clearly had not been in agreement, and at least one of them was displeased with the outcome.

  It didn’t take long to determine who that was.

  Roderick sat across from her, arms folded over his chest, staring at her in silence, his eyes narrowed and his strong jaw set tight.

  “Well?” she asked, unable to keep silent any longer. “Do we have an agreement?”

  “We do,” said McLaren, coming round with a piece of paper in front of him. “Sign this and tell us who we are looking for and where they might be. One of the officers will also be in shortly to help sketch their faces.”

  “Very well,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  “We are allowing you to return home,” McLaren continued, “on one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “McDougall here will be going with you.”

  “What!” she cried out, coming to her feet. “No — no, he can’t.”

  McLaren looked at her, his expression unchanged. “I don’t believe have the power to make decisions one way or another, Miss Malone. You will do as we say, and you are lucky we are releasing you at all. McDougall will accompany you to Scotland, to make sure you return home as ye promised. And if you ever — ever — return here, we will arrest you and you will hang. Is that clear?”

  She sat there, silently fuming, as she took in the faces around her. McLaren wore the same expression as always, the other man looked somewhat amused, and Roderick — well, Roderick looked as angry as she. Clearly, he had not been particularly agreeable to this situation either.

  “Fine,” she said, McLaren’s words of the noose somewhat scaring her, though she took comfort in the fact that Roderick would be equally as miserable as she on this journey. “You have a deal.”

  Gwen spent a couple of hours with them, telling them what she knew — within reason — and providing details of the men they were looking for. As the seven gang members came to life through the fingers of the policeman, her heart began to beat faster, and she coaxed the man to sketch more quickly, as she was sensing an urgency to run far from the barracks and this town, where they might find her.

  The police were suitably impressed with her memory, and after some time they began to make preparations to allow her to leave — though not alone, of course. No, the man she had thought she was done with, that she had wanted so desperately to be free from, was sitting in the front of the building, arms crossed as he waited for her.

  He had a bag with him now, and she realized she had been here long enough that he likely had time to return to wherever he called home and prepare for their journey. Oh goodness, she thought suddenly — did he have a family? Was there a wife and children he would be leaving behind for this voyage with her? Not that it should matter to her — it was not as if she had asked him to accompany her. And yet, for some reason, the thought that he might have someone waiting for him seemed to rankle her.

  “Are you ready?” he asked curtly, standing as she approached.

  “As ready as I shall be,” she shrugged. “Was your wife upset that you are leaving?”

  She cursed herself. What had made her ask such a question? She saw his lips curve into a knowing grin and she tried to appear as unaffected by his answer as she could, though her breath came quicker as she waited in anticipation for whatever it was he said.

  “I have no wife,” he said, his eyes darkening as he looked at her more intensely than she would have liked. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, I am happy to hear that,” she said, her nose in the air. “I would feel sorry for a woman who would have to spend each day with her ears on fire from your continual chatter.”

  His eyes widened, and she at first braced herself for an angry onslaught, but instead, he surprised her by laughing. His laugh was a loud, throaty chuckle that came from deep inside of him, and he was clearly a man who laughed frequently and openly.

  “Very clever, lass,” he said, shaking his head. “Very clever.”

  Chapter 6

  Roderick didn’t know what to think of the red-haired vixen standing in front of him. She was a thief and went afoul of his ideals — and yet he appreciated her quick wit, as well as the way she had felt against his body.

  He knew he wasn’t the only one affected. As much as she tried to shield her feelings from him, he could see the internal war raging within her own eyes as she attempted not to look at him. And her question to him regarding a wife — well, as much as she tried to mask her curiosity, she had clearly been interested in his response.

  And now he was going to spend at the least the next two weeks with her in confined spaces as they journeyed back to Scotland.

  “Well,” she said, looking around her, and Roderick noted McLaren coming up behind her. “Where is my father?”

  Roderick looked down at the ground. Let McLaren take this question, he thought. He was the man who had orchestrated this entire scheme.

  “He is… not here,” McLaren said, and Gwen whipped around to face him.

  “Pardon me?” she said. She did not raise her voice, but the steady, even, steely tone was almost more frightening than if she had railed at them with a shout full of rage.

  “He is not here,” McLaren repeated.

  “What do you mean he is not here?” she asked again in the same low tones that came out almost as a growl. “You mean you lied to me? I gave up all I know for nothing? How could you? You will pay for this,” she said, looking around the room, her gaze coming to rest on Roderick and she pointed a finger at him. “All of you. Now, where is he?”

  “We did not lie,” McLaren said, his face unmoving. “We have him in our custody — the custody of the North-West Mounted Police, that is. We transported him to Winnipeg, where he could be dealt with amongst the most serious of prisoners. You will be reunited there, as I promised. You will take the next train, and travel there to meet him before continuing on to Scotland.”

  She was silent, but her stare said all as she glared first at McLaren and then Roderick.

  “Let us go, then,” she said, making her way to the door.

  “Do you have anything to collect before we begin the journey?” asked Roderick, standing to follow her, though his instincts made him want to step away from her and the anger that practically shimmered off her skin.

  “No,” she said. “Everything I need — everything I have — is with me.”

  * * *

  Neither man was aware of just how true those words were. All Gwen needed was in her saddlebags — and what was next to her skin. Her future was sewn into the shift that hugged her curves. She pressed a hand to her bodice every now and then to reassu
re herself that it was still there, though if it hadn’t dislodged in her tumble with Roderick, it never would.

  Roderick helped her back up onto a horse that belonged to the Police, transferring her few meager belongings into the saddlebags. Her own horse would remain at the barracks, he told her. “I assume it’s not actually yours anyway — not bought and paid for, I mean,” he said, and she sniffed, refusing to meet his gaze. He was right of course. She had seen the horse tied to a fencepost a couple of years ago. She had petted the animal, expressing her appreciation for the fine mare. When they made camp that night, Doc returned with her as a ‘gift.’ Gwen had felt guilty for the loss of whomever they had stolen the horse from, but when she suggested they return it, she had received Doc’s withering stare, the one that told her not to betray any emotion, for, he told her, it reminded the rest of the gang that she was a woman, and therefore not as capable as the rest of them.

  So, she had kept the horse, and every time she rode her, she’d felt a twinge of guilt.

  “Tell him to take her back to Brandon,” she said quietly.

  “What was that?”

  “Tell the sergeant to take her to Brandon. She belongs to someone there. I’m sure they will know who. She is a rather magnificent mare.”

  She wouldn’t look at him as she said the words, admitting to her crime. She also didn’t want him to see the emotion in her eyes as she separated from the animal. It was silly, really, but the horse had come to mean something to her. She had chosen not to name her, as she didn’t want to become attached for it seemed nothing in her life lasted very long, but it hadn’t mattered. Roderick didn’t seem to notice anything was the matter, however, as he simply nodded, and made her come with him as he talked to the sergeant.

  Soon they were on their way, Callum riding with them as he would lead the horses back to the barracks. It wasn’t a long ride to Troy, where the train would meet them, particularly because they had to push the horses near a gallop to get there. If only they hadn’t taken so long with her at the station, she told him with an eye roll, and surprisingly, he seemed to agree with her.

  “Too many procedures,” he said with a shrug, and she realized that perhaps he was not quite the staid law officer she had initially thought.

  Roderick was rather silent for most of the ride – primarily because of their speed, of course, but she sensed that even if they had slowed, he had lost some of his joviality. Clearly, he was angry about his role in accompanying her all the way to Scotland, which she could understand. She didn’t particularly look forward to the journey over the ocean, and he would have to make it both there and back. Gwen didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she actually somewhat missed his constant chatter. While she would never allow him to know what she thought, he was actually rather interesting, and his stories certainly helped pass the time. She wondered if they would resume once they began their travel onboard the train.

  Roderick took his time saying farewell to Donahue before leaving him to begin the next stage of their journey, although Gwen finally realized that it wasn’t the horse he was reluctant to leave.

  He finally turned to his brother, who was watching him with eyes surprisingly misty for a man his size.

  “Good luck, Roderick,” the elder brother said gruffly, and Roderick hesitated for only a moment before stepping toward him and enveloping him in a hug. The brothers clutched one another tightly, as though they could store up the embrace and hold onto it into the future.

  “Thank you, Callum,” Roderick said as they stepped back from one another. “Thank you very much.”

  Then he turned abruptly, grabbed her elbow, and they boarded together just moments before the train began its slow chug east.

  * * *

  Roderick tried to put up a silent front, to make Gwen aware of just how angry he was at what her actions had led to — making him look like a fool, having her put them in such a situation, and hurting countless people throughout the years. True, thieving was a crime that was easier to commit, not having to look one in the face while committing it, but it was a crime nonetheless. He pushed away the thought that thieving and raiding had been the way of many Scots for years. Times were different now. Roderick’s clan in the Highlands had known hardship — were knowing hardship — and so many people he knew, who were like family to him, had made their way to the Americas. To imagine some of those good, hardworking people having so much taken away from them by people like Gwen Malone angered him to no end.

  And yet, the quiet between them made the time stretch on interminably, as they sat beside one another tensely silent, and eventually, he had to know the answers to the questions that swirled around in his head. It would also prevent him from thinking about leaving his brother, and wondering when he might see him again.

  “From what my brother tells me, the Doc Malone Gang has been in operation for over a decade,” he finally said, before looking over at her. Her eyes were just beginning to close in sleep, but they snapped open when he addressed her. She nodded at his words, her long, flaming waves floating around her shoulders. “You would have been but a child at the time, no?”

  “I joined a dozen years ago. I was twelve,” she said with nonchalance as if a thieving young girl was no problem.

  “So tell me,” he continued, turning to face her beside him. “What type of father allows his twelve-year-old daughter to enter into such a life? What kind of man is Doc Malone, and why do you continue to protect him so?”

  She was silent for a moment, looking out the window of the train but saying nothing. He was about to ask her again, to force her to answer him, when she spoke in a soft tone that he had not yet heard from her.

  “He’s not actually my father.”

  “What?” Roderick leaned forward to look into her face, shocked at the words that had come from her lips. “What do you mean, he’s not your father? We are doing all of this for a man you are not even related to?”

  She turned to look at him.

  “He is not my flesh and blood, but he is now my relation,” she said, her green eyes boring into him with an intensity that made him want to jump back. “My parents sent me away. They had too many children and could not house and feed us all. My brother and I were sent to live with an aunt and uncle across the ocean. We were told they would meet us when we reached land. My brother died on the journey. He was supposed to look after me, but he caught ill and never recovered.” She paused for a moment, seeming to collect herself, and guilt began to pool in his belly. He had never guessed she would tell a story like this, and he had a feeling he knew what the ending would be.

  “When I reached Montreal, there was no aunt and uncle waiting for me. Whether my parents fabricated them or they didn’t show, I will never know. I had no idea what to do, where to go. Doc was there. He was looking for a boy, one with small fingers who could easily slip into places a grown man couldn’t. He never found a boy, but he did find me.”

  She looked down at her hands, stretching her long fingers out in front of her. “I was lucky, I suppose, when you think of who could have found me and what I could have become. Doc took me in, fed me, treated me like a daughter. And he trained me. He taught me the skills of a thief, and as I got older, he also taught me how to use my… feminine attributes to get us in and out of tricky situations. Not like that!” she said, apparently seeing his horrified expression as he thought of her using her body in such a way. “Simply… flirting, that sort of thing. Like I tried to use with you, although apparently, you are immune to my charms.”

  She smiled a bit at that, and he was transfixed. She had become so vulnerable in telling her story, her face had softened, and he felt as though he could see into her soul, could start to understand her motivations, as much as he didn’t want to admit that there might be a reason behind her actions.

  “Anyway. Doc is a hard man. He’s mean and he was never particularly loving, but he was there for me when no one else was. I have to do this one last thing for him, to repay him fo
r all he did.”

  He nodded slowly, understanding in a way the loyalty that she showed to Doc. If any of his family had asked him to do something similar, he would not have hesitated, would not have asked any questions of them. He loved them to a nearly unbearable extent.

  “So who are ye running from?” he asked quietly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have been looking over your shoulder ever since we left the barracks. You think someone is after you, Gwen. Who — and why?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a bit of a forced laugh. “I’m simply used to running from the law. It will take some time to feel comfortable with the law sitting beside me.”

  He eyed her, taking in the smile she had fixed to her face, and he knew she was lying.

  “’Tis important, lass, if I’m to look after your safety,” he said, to which she rolled her eyes.

  “I can look after myself,” she said. “It is you and your colleagues who decided that I needed a caregiver.”

  “Not a caregiver,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat, “an escort, if you will.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and returned them to looking ahead.

  “Where are you from?” she asked him abruptly.

  He started a bit, shocked at her interest.

  “What?” she said indignantly. “If we are going to spend the next weeks together, it will be rather long if we remain in silence. I’ve spent many an hour with men I have no care for, so I am used to it,” she shrugged.

  “Near Aldourie,” he finally said, satisfied she was telling the truth. “On the shores of Loch Ness, the home of the mighty Nessie. Have you heard of her?”