by Radha
Moncrieffe exchanged a quick look with the sheriff, clasped his hands behind his back, bowed his head. My son has been murdered, my lord, he said softly. Thomas McKinnon conspired with Kerry MacGregor McKinnon in his death.
He waited, letting that accusation wash over his audience as he strolled to where Kerry was standing. She kept her eyes on the justice, her chin held high, refusing to look at the cretin. The foolish ass smirked at her courage; Arthurs hands itched to be around his throat.
My lord commissioner, the late Fraser McKinnon, a dear friend of mine, suffered from a debilitating illness that eventually took his life. In the course of his last years, he was quite unable to oversee his own affairs and his livelihood was considerably diminished. He did everything a man in his condition might dohe sought help from investment partners, but had the singular misfortune of purchasing a sick herd of cattle. The plague took all of the beeves he had hoped to turn to profit.
Fraser McKinnon turned to me for help then, and again the next year, when the bull he had purchased refused to sire. He found himself unable to pay the bank, and unfortunately, as he neared the end of his life, he ceased trying to appease any of his debts. As he lay on his deathbed, he owed me five thousand pounds, and I shudder to think of the sum he most likely owed the Bank of Scotland.
A collective gasp went through the crowd at the extraordinary sum Moncrieffe had tossed them.
My lord commissioner! Regis called.
Mr. Regis.
What Fraser McKinnon owed the Bank of Scotland or Lord Moncrieffe isna the issue here. The issue is
It is precisely the issue, my lord, as Fraser McKinnon sought to settle his debts from his deathbed, which led to the murder of my son! Moncrieffe loudly interjected.
I beg your
Mr. Regis, the justice interrupted, lazily lifting his hand, I shall allow Lord Moncrieffe to state his case.
Arthur felt the roots of helplessness sink farther into the pit of his stomach. He groaned, closed his eyes.
Thank you, my lord commissioner, Moncrieffe said, and casually adjusted the sleeve of his coat before continuing. As Fraser McKinnon lay dying, he summoned me to his bedside, which I naturally attended. It was there that I first heard the rumors of Mrs. McKinnons amoral relations with her cousin.
The crowd released a collective hiss; Kerry visibly stiffened, lifted her chin a notch, but it was the only outward sign she gave that Moncrieffes lies affected her. Good girl. Give him. nothing.
Thomas, however, snorted loudly at the charge, muttered under his breath.
Poor Fraser McKinnon explained to me his plan for eliminating his debts and providing for his wife on the occasion of his imminent death. His plan was simple: allow the bank to repossess the land against that which he had borrowed, and deed to me the remaining McKinnon lands and holdings, whose value came very close to covering his debt. And for the portion of his debt that went unpaid, he offered his widow to marry my son.
The crowd could hardly contain their titillation at that scandalous arrangement. The justice frowned at Moncrieffe. A rather unusual arrangement, he remarked.
Unusual perhaps, my lord, but not unsound. As McKinnon had lost all the property he owned to debt, it seemed to him the most expedient way to provide for his young widow. I thought it an especially suitable arrangement, as my son was not afforded the usual opportunities for such a match.
The justice looked puzzled by that; Regis seized the opportunity. My lord commissioner, I fail to see how the machinations of a man on his deathbed might contribute to the outrageous charge of murder. Charles Moncrieffe was not afforded the usual opportunities for a satisfactory marriage because of his unfortunate condition, which ultimately led
Unfortunate condition? the justice demanded.
My son, Moncrieffe interjected, was perhaps not as developed as other men of the age of thirty.
Do you mean to say his growth was stunted?
I mean to say he was a bit slow. His was a difficult birth.
The women in the crowd responded to that with a faint murmur of understanding, and Moncrieffe turned, smiled sadly at them over his shoulder. I thought it a fair settlement of the debt, he added, his voice full of feigned emotion.
A settlement to which Mrs. McKinnon had no say or knowledge! Regis insisted loudly.
Longcrier nodded absently at Regis, gestured with his hand for Moncrieffe to continue. When Fraser McKinnon passed, God rest his soul, I did not immediately approach Mrs. McKinnon. I respected an appropriate mourning period. Unfortunately, Mrs. McKinnon used that time to further degrade her husbands honor in a flagrant affair with Thomas McKinnon!
That is a lie! Regis angrily countered.
Mr. Regis, you will have your opportunity, said the justice irritably, and looked at Moncrieffe again. You can prove this abominable accusation, I trust?
Moncrieffe nodded. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to her debauchery, my lord, which I will happily bring forth to you.
Very well then, Longcrier said, and looked at Regis. Mr. Regis?
Regis jerked at his waistcoat and stepped forward. My lord commissioner, Baron Moncrieffe would have you believe that Mrs. McKinnon conspired with her late husbands cousin Thomas McKinnon to renege on her husbands agreement to settle his debt. He would have you believe that they conspired to steal the beeves he avows belonged to him and kill his son so that she would not be forced to marry him. If Baron Moncrieffe is successful in having you believe this, milord, then the McKinnon property would revert to the Bank of Scotland, and undoubtedly, the Bank of Scotland would dispose of the land as soon as possible to retire the debt owed them. I would imagine that the Baron could have the whole of Glenbaden for a mere pittance.
My lord commissioner, really
Moncrieffe, the justice wearily interrupted. You had your say. Mr. Regis will have a go of it. He nodded at Regis.
Baron Moncrieffe has several thousand heads of sheep, my lord. He has expanded his grazing rights to the north and the south, all at the expense of poor Scots he has willfully displaced from their homes. It is not inconceivable, therefore, that Baron Moncrieffeknowing Fraser McKinnons illness would soon lead to his deathplanned on obtaining the whole of Glenbaden, a prime grazing land for sheep. It is likewise not inconceivable that Baron Moncrieffe seized the opportunity to push his friend further and further into debt in hopes of securing that land and perhaps even forced a dying man to an agreement that he was without proper faculty to consider.
I beg your pardon! Moncrieffe blustered. And I beg yours! Regis shouted back. Gentlemen! the justice roared. Lets get on with it, shall we? Lord Moncrieffe, have you witnesses?
I do, my lord commissioner. If the court pleases, I present Mrs. Alva MacGregor Tavish of Glasgow, the mother of Kerry MacGregor McKinnon, he said, sweeping his arm dramatically toward the door behind the justice.
Kerry jerked around to Moncrieffe then, gaping at him with incredulity, her eyes stark blue against her morbidly pale face, then dragged her gaze to the door where her mother was emerging, escorted by two men. In her hand, she carried a crude, wooden cross. Her hair was gray, although Arthur could see that it might have once had the black sheen of Kerrys. She was small; her plain gray gown hung loosely on her. As she was led to stand in front of Justice Longcrier, she looked heavenward, clasping her hands together around the cross she carried.
And Arthur felt the world begin to crumble beneath his feet.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She was living, breathing, in a nightmare; nothing seemed real in the drama unfolding before her it was as if someone had summoned actors together, given them words that would falsely condemn her as a whore, an adulteress, and a thief.
She stood rigid in her box as the witnesses were paraded before her, her eyes fixed on the justice who occasionally looked at her, his brown eyes rimmed with what she could only term as sadness. The shock of seeing her mother after all these yearsLord God, how the bitterness had aged her!had numbed her, sunk her into a poo
l of indifference. The vile lies and accusations Alva screeched as proof of her affair with Thomas were nothing new to hershe received those same condemnations at least monthly in a letter. But to hear them spoken out loud it sickened her. There was nothing they could do to her now that could hurt any more than her own mother.
Where was Arthur? Had he given in to the impossibility of it all? Found her situation as hopeless as she? How she longed to see the reassuring smile of her beautiful stranger one last time.
One by one, the witnesses against her stood in front of Justice Longcrier: Moncrieffes butler, who testified that she and Thomas had plotted against the baron; a peddler, who had once come to Glenbaden to sell his pots and pans, swearing that Thomas presented himself as her husband while Fraser lay dying in the last room; a doctor, who said he saw Thomas driving the beeves they had stolen to the market in Perth.
Mr. Regis was scarcely able to argue on their behalf at all, so hostile was the crowd toward them. To every question the justice asked, she answered truthfully, but the crowd responded angrily. They wanted to see a hanging. They wanted someone to pay for the death of Charles Moncrieffe.
Kerry looked across the dais to Thomas. He was propped against the railing, his arms folded across his chest. He caught her eye, smiled wryly. Her heart swelled with remorse for having done this to him. Thomas had been her rock through those years with Fraser, and for that she would hand him his death warrant. She dropped her head, unable to look at him any longer; tears filled her eyes. Please, God, let them hang me, then. But let Thomas go free!
Kerry! Kerry, listen to me!
Ah God Arthurs voice touched her like a caress against her cheek, a kiss to her neck in the middle of the maelstrom. She opened her eyes, searched for him, saw him standing below her box, off to one side, straining to be heard through the din. His hazel eyes glittered strangely, but he smiled at her, that same, cheerful smile she had come to love. Hold your head up, Kerry! Do not let them believe they have defeated you!
But they had defeated her. It was too late, far too late. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, but faltered. Arthurs face clouded; he clenched his jaw, raised his hand and pointed at her. Keep faith with me, Kerry McKinnon! he shouted. You promised you would keep faith with me!
Tears slipped from her eyes, raced down her cheeks.
Aye, she had promised him once, but only to keep him from swimming in the same despair that threatened to drown her now. How had it all come to this? She didnt want Arthur to see her hang. It was her last and final wishhe could not see her hang! He was trying to move forward, to be closer, and she suddenly panicked, certain if he got any nearer she would lose the last fragments of her composure. Go! she shouted at him, drawing the attention of several around her. A few men looked over their shoulders to see whom she addressed. It caught him off guard, drew him up short, his face colored slightly. He clenched his jaw even tighter, glared at her. Go! she shrieked at him.
Mrs. McKinnon! the justice called to her, craning his neck to see who she addressed.
Kerry turned away from Arthur, her last sight of him his pained bewilderment.
Her heart felt as if it was shattering into a thousand different pieces.
There was nothing left of her, nothing left to hang but an empty shell. A strange calm descended over her, and impassive, she looked at the justice as he demanded some semblance of order in the hall.
When the crowd finally settled, the justice frowned at Moncrieffe. You were saying, sir?
My lord commissioner, upon receipt of the letter from the Bank of Scotland, Thomas and Kerry McKinnon scattered their clan, stole the beeves, and murdered my Charles when he happened upon them! They killed the poor boy because the only way Kerry McKinnon could honor the debts owed the Bank of Scotland was applying the terms of her husbands agreement, which meant marriage to my son!
The justice looked at Kerry. You received word the debts were due? he asked gently.
The question confused Kerry. She had received a letter from the Bank of Scotland, weeks before Charless death. She slowly nodded. Several weeks before, she said wearily. I received word of the debts several weeks before before this happened.
Moncrieffe snorted. My lord, if the court pleases, Mr. Durwood Abernathy of the Bank of Scotland! Moncrieffe called dramatically.
Mr. Abernathy, too?
As Mr. Abernathy walked to stand in front of the justice, he looked at Kerry with such regret that she cringed with shame. In a trembling voice, he informed the justice that he had indeed sent a letter to Mrs. McKinnon informing her that the McKinnon debt was to be collected on 21 July. Although she had never received that letter, when Mr. Abernathy stepped down, Kerry believed her fate was sealed.
But not Arthur. He knew Kerry had not seen that letterhe had broken the seal himself! A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he pushed through the crowd, to Mr. Regis, who was busily searching through a sheaf of papers.
Regis!
Not now, Christian!
Listen to me
Can you not see I am presently engaged? Good God, man. If you want her to live, you willna bother me now!
The anxiety and the fear in Arthur had reached a desperate pitch. They had one small chance as he saw it, one very slim hope. He lunged at Regis, knocked him against a small table where his things were stacked. Listen to me, Regis, he breathed. I need time. I know how to free her, but
Regis shoved hard against his chest. Do not tell me what to do! he spat. I told you I couldna save her bloody neck! Surely even you can see how grim the situation is now! He sliced a murderous look across Arthur, turned back to his papers.
The terror suddenly exploded in Arthurs chest, ripping through his heart and his mind. He grabbed Regis, whirled him around and caught his throat in one hand. I need time! he bellowed. She never saw the letter, Regis! I broke the seal! She never saw the goddamn letter!
Regis grabbed Arthurs wrist with both hands, his eyes now reflecting his fear as he gasped for breath. All right, then, she never saw the letter! How can that help us now?
He didnt understand! The sudden feel of dampness on his cheeks astounded and mortified Arthur. He lifted his free hand, touched his cheek. Tears. Tears. He looked heavenward, blinking, silently pleadingpleading that he might lead this loved one out of the morass, might know the richness of life only she could show him. Please God, let me have this chance. He lowered his gaze, dropped his hand. Willie Keith, he said hoarsely. The lad who delivers the post
Regiss mouth dropped open. No other explanation was apparently necessary; his eyes rounded with surprise and he whirled quickly around, riffled through his papers. Go then. But be quick! Ive a shepherd here, but I
Arthur did not hear the rest of what Regis said. He was already pushing through the crowd to the bailey.
How in Gods name did one find Willie Keith? He had no notion of where the boy lived! Arthur rode Freedom hard, reining to a wild stop in the first hamlet he came to. No one was about; they were all apparently at the tower. Frustration and fear groped at him, tried to sweep him under with their current. He swung down from Freedom, left the horse to drink from a trough as he stalked from one cottage to the next, pounding at each door. At the last one, he did not bother to knock, but in a fit of frustration, lifted his leg and kicked it open. Is there no one in this godforsaken place? he roared.
The cry of an infant startled him; he lurched forward, through the door. A woman stood against one wall, her suckling infant at her breast. She cried out, brought her hand up to the babys head. A strange heat instantly swept through Arthur, he quickly held up his hands to show her he meant no harm. Forgive me, madam, but it is with some urgency that I find the lad Willie Keith. He delivers the post.
Too stunned to speak, she could only nod. Arthur dug his nails into his palms in a mad effort to maintain his composure and forced himself to ask, Where mightIfind Willie Keith?
Killiecrankie, she whispered, and Arthurs heart surged on a new wave of hope. He pivote
d away, raced for Freedom. He did not allow himself to think how far Killiecrankie was, just spurred Freedom to the west, lowered his head, and forced all thoughts from his head except that of Willie Keith.
Freedom covered the distance in a quarter of an hour, but the hamlet was just as deserted as the last. Only a blacksmith remained behind, hard at work. Arthur strode to him, his hand resting on the butt of his gun holstered at his side. I beg your pardon, sir, but it is imperative that I find Willie Keith at once!
The blacksmith looked up, eyed him casually before turning back to his work of forging a horseshoe. Hes delivering the post, just as he does every week.
Yes, but where? It is a matter of great importance!
Aye, but I canna help you, milord. Willie travels many different roads, he does. Ive no notion where he might be.
Calmly. Have you any idea then when he might return?
Oh aye, said the blacksmith, thrusting the shoe into cold water. Not ere dusk, you can be sure.
That was too late. That was too goddamned late!
The world at last crumbled under his feet, and Arthur turned away, walking unevenly. He felt himself sinking, rapidly descending down into the brink of hopelessness. He felt his failure keenly, felt it as sharply and as fresh as a knife to his heart, and his minds eye was suddenly filled with the deadly pallor of Kerrys skin as she stood in the box, swaying with the fatigue and weight of the testimonythe liesagainst her.
He walked, blindly, paralyzed by his inability to save her, the crushing knowledge that it was done, that he could not stop the tide of this ordeal from taking her, from taking the one person he loved above all others.
That thought overwhelmed him; his legs buckled and he suddenly found himself on his knees in the middle of the rutted lane that marked the center of the hamlet. Tears filled his eyes, tears of gross frustration, of losshe had lost her. He had lost the one person who could make him believe heaven existed on earth. The loss was so devastating, so suffocating that he was insanely reminded of Phillip. How often he had tried to imagine the despair that might bring a man to end his own life.