Land of My Dreams

by Norma Gail

  She poked him in the ribs and then pulled him closer. “Adam seemed to think so.”

  She remained silent the rest of the way to the car. He opened her door to let her into the Land Rover. When he climbed in, he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s, well, we haven’t visited your parents, and …”

  “You’re wondering what my mother thinks?”

  “Yes.”

  “She wasn’t pleased about you staying in New Mexico. She didn’t want me to get hurt.”

  “Did it upset her when you decided to come after me?” She stroked the red-gold hairs on the back of his hand lying on the console.

  “She knows it’s impossible for me to love anyone else.” His eyes glowed with a tender blue light. “We have her blessing.”

  “Kieran, you’ve never ridden a horse in your kilt before. Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Kieran’s answer did nothing to quell Bonny’s suspicions. He had told her to dress in the outfit he called her “Lady of Loch Garry” outfit, a long, flowing skirt of filmy, red plaid, with a black velvet jacket, lacy blouse, and black riding boots.

  They headed up the mountain behind the farm, riding Storm and Misty. Across the valley, shafts of sunlight streamed through the clouds like bits of heaven, lighting the mountain peaks and turning the loch to a shimmering silver mirror.

  They rode in silence until he stopped in one of their favorite places. She sat still until he reached up to help her dismount. In the long skirt, she needed him to lift her down, and for him, holding her close as he set her on the ground was too lovely.

  “My highland cathedral.” Her heart filled with eager contentment. “I wondered when you would bring me here again.”

  “Spread out the blanket and get comfortable while I get something.” He handed her the blanket tied behind her saddle, turning back to his horse, and the mysterious, blanket-wrapped object she had stared at all the way there.

  “Your bagpipes, Kieran …”

  “Can a man have a wee bit of silence, please?” She smiled at his mock irritation and the sparkle in his eyes.

  She wasn’t dreaming this time. The man filling the bag with air and adjusting the tuning slides until the pitch of the drones suited him was very real. She felt as if he could see into her soul while he played the majestic strains of “Highland Cathedral.” It was a big concession on his part. He had told her over and over how he disliked the song, which was written in the 1980’s by Germans. But there he stood—surrounded by sheep with mist swirling around them, preparing to play it for her—true love. She remembered her first day in Scotland, imagining a kilted piper on a hillside, and here he stood in the flesh, the man she loved more than her life. She shivered as the sun broke through the clouds and shone on their special place.

  He laid his pipes down, kneeling and reaching for her hand. “Bonny Faith Bryant, will you marry me and let me love you for the rest of our lives?”

  She brought his hand to her lips. “Yes, Kieran, I will marry you.”

  Reaching into his sporran, he pulled out the velvet box. He removed the ruby ring and slipped it onto her finger. “You’ll be Mrs. Kieran MacDonell at long last.”

  Her answer was lost in his kiss.

  “Ooof.” He moved from his knees to sit beside her. “It sounds romantic, but kneeling on rocky ground isn’t for forty-one year old men. Shall we set the day?”

  “Soon, and you’re not old, my braw and bonnie Highlander. I can’t wait for our adventure to begin.” The world turned beneath her, spinning, whirling, and rocking as life changed forever with his precious words.

  He took the long end of his tartan which wrapped around his shoulder and placed it around her shoulders also as the wind began to blow. “The church in Beauly is easy to schedule. We can’t have the reception outside though. The weather in late fall is too unpredictable.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “I only need you.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven: Fear

  Someone is poaching deer at Stonehaven Farm, Constable … Yes, the biggest red stag on the farm is dead, its head cut off, and the rest left to rot …Yes, I’d say earlier today … I heard a shot a couple of hours ago …Tomorrow or the next day. Can’t you get anyone here sooner … Thanks, yes, I understand.”

  Kieran slammed the phone down, turning to Bonny, who was standing on the bottom step of the back stairs. She, Maggie, and Eleanor were cleaning the farmhouse from top to bottom, putting away early wedding gifts, and putting female touches on the guest room Kieran had created from the room he once shared with Bronwyn.

  “A poacher at Stonehaven? And they can’t come any sooner?” She ran to his side, putting her arms around him as he stood rubbing his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger.

  “I found the big stag dead on the lower slopes of Cnocan Dubh.” She felt his tension, but sensed something else, a desire for revenge.

  “You won’t do anything until the police come, will you?” He headed for the stairs.

  “I’m getting my shotgun and going to see if I can find more signs of poaching. They’re down lower this time of year, easier to find. I won’t have poachers on my land.” He stomped up the stairs with her close on his heels.

  Footsteps signaled Maggie’s arrival at the top of the stairs. Looking from one to the other, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Bonny jumped in before he answered. “Someone killed the old stag. He’s going after them before the police get here.” His indignant expression as he turned to her was no deterrent. “Talk to him, Maggie.”

  “Ach, it’s my land, and I’m the gamekeeper here. I’ll do what I have to.” He pushed past both of them and up the stairs.

  “Bonny’s right, mo mhac, you need to let the authorities handle this. It’s too dangerous.” Maggie headed after him with Bonny on her heels.

  “The carcass is a few hours old. No one comes onto my land and steals my deer. The sheriff has a large area to cover and can’t get here until tomorrow or the next day. I’m not letting them get away if they’re still in the area.” He unlocked the safe, grabbing his shotgun and ammunition as he spoke.

  “Then I’m coming with you.” Bonny gripped his arm again. “I can shoot, and you’re not going after them alone.”

  He set down his gun, cupping her face in his hand. “I know you’re capable, but you’re not coming. The ATV tracks indicate they used the trail between Loch Loyne and Tomdoun. I have to make casts of the boot prints and tire tracks before the snow covers up the evidence. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Kieran, it’s too dangerous. I can be changed in a couple of minutes.” Bonny headed for her room, when he grasped her arm and turned her around.

  “I said no, and I meant it. Now stay here.” Snatching up his gun, he strode down the stairs and out the door, mounting Storm, who was standing saddled right outside.

  Bonny went to the map on the kitchen wall, tracing the route to the base of the mountain with her finger, then finding the trail he said the poachers had used. “I’m calling the police back,” she said. “They need to know he’s out there alone. Maybe they’ll come sooner.”

  “I’ll call Duncan in Tomdoun,” Maggie said, taking her cell phone out of her purse on the sideboard. “Maybe he can intercept him. He has ATVs.”

  When neither phone call proved successful, the women sat down at the kitchen table with a pot of tea to wait.

  “I can’t sit here and do nothing.” After two hours of nervous anticipation, Bonny came downstairs dressed for a ride, and headed for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re goin’, lass?” Maggie turned from the window as Bonny stepped out the door, shotgun in hand.

  “To find Kieran. Anything could happen to him out there alone.” She shut the door, but Maggie followed, running to catch up.

  “What good is it to have two of you out there? Angus should be back soon, and he’ll go after him.”

  “Maggie, what if he’s hu
rt? You stay here and keep trying the police. I’m going after him.”

  Misty’s hooves slogged through the mud and wet grass as fast as Bonny could make her go. Four days of heavy rain left everything dreich and drookit. The gray clouds hung low and heavy. The snow had begun. Heavy, wet flakes, sticking to the ground as the temperature dropped. A blustering wind raced across the pasture, rippling the grass and heather in its wake. The sheep turned their backs to the impending storm.

  She stopped, wondering which trail he followed, when a gunshot sounded from due north. Stifling her fear, she headed up a hill where they had seen the old stag a week ago. Within a mile, she saw blood in the fresh snow and the signs of a large man dragging himself.

  “Kieran! Kieran! Where are you?” She began to call his name, frantically, the shotgun ready in case the poacher still lurked in the area.

  She stopped to listen, hoping, hardly daring to breathe.

  The mist-shrouded hills were silent. The snow fell harder now, and she knew that soon any tracks would be covered. She walked further up the trail where they had spotted the stag a few days ago.

  At last, she heard a weak voice calling her name. Rounding a thick stand of trees, she saw him lying in the snow at the end of a trail of blood.

  “For once I’m thankful you don’t follow orders.” His voice sounded weak, punctuated by quick, shallow breaths. “It’s in my abdomen, love. I grazed his leg as I fell to the ground. He scared Storm away and headed east on an ATV toward the A87. I need help fast.”

  Running to his side, she unzipped his coat and opened his shirt to see the wound, her stomach turning as she realized how much blood he had lost.

  “Don’t you die on me, Kieran MacDonell. We have a wedding in four weeks and nothing will stop me from marrying you this time.” She ran to her saddlebags for the first aid kit.

  “Can you ride?” She noted the ashen gray of his skin. He was shivering, whether from pain, shock, or cold, she wasn’t sure. If only she had remembered a blanket.

  He shook his head. “I can’t get up. I used my strength shoutin’ to get your attention. How did you find me?”

  Bonny tore open the packages of gauze and pressed them against the wound, propping him against the rock to wrap an ace bandage around him. “When I reached the big rock where the trail splits, I heard a shot and began looking in this direction. I followed the trail we were on the other day. I’m going to bring Misty over and see if we can get you up on her back.”

  “I shot into the air—I think I’m going to pass out.”

  He felt stronger after she urged him to take deep breaths. With her help and a large stick for a cane, they succeeded in getting him up on a large rock, enabling him to drag himself onto Misty’s back.

  “Hold onto my saddle horn. You’ll be grateful for my Western saddle.” Bonny took the reins and led Misty back toward the house. With his strength ebbing fast, his eyes were sunken, his stare blank, and he had trouble staying on the horse.

  “Honey, we’re getting close, hold on tight.” When he made no sound, she turned, horrified to see him lying forward on Misty’s neck. What would I do if he falls off?

  Bonny exhaled with relief when the house came in sight, with the constable’s car in front. “Call for the rescue helicopter. He’s been shot in the abdomen.”

  One constable came running to help as the other got on the radio. By the time the copter arrived, Kieran was unresponsive, his breathing shallow. The constable took over putting pressure on the wound after Bonny packed it with as much sterile gauze as Maggie and Eleanor had. She didn’t know how much blood someone could lose and still live, but he must have reached a critical point.

  The paramedics struggled to get an IV going, saying his blood loss made it difficult to find a vein. After multiple tries, they resorted to an intra-osseous line going straight into the bone. When they told her it was reserved for the worst cases of shock and circulatory collapse, she sat down with her head between her knees. No medical background was necessary to see that his life was ebbing as his blood seeped through the bandages, slower now, but every drop brought him closer to death.

  Angus had returned in Bonny’s absence, and insisted on driving her and Maggie to Inverness. Eleanor remained at the house where the constables set up their command post for the manhunt. Hamish would meet the helicopter at the hospital and sign the surgical permit, having stayed behind in Beauly.

  Bonny clutched her future mother-in-law’s hand. “What if …”

  Maggie wiped the tears which were streaming down her cheeks like waterfalls on the Sisters of Kintail, putting her arm around Bonny as she called Graeme and the Camerons. “I need you to call the prayer chains at your churches and the college.”

  She could hear Graeme struggling to keep control, his voice sounding choked and unnatural. “I’ll call Janet. We’ll come as fast as possible.”

  Constable MacFadyen stayed in touch, but there was no sign of the poacher. “If he had a car waiting at the A87, it will be difficult to find him.”

  A solemn-looking Hamish met them as they came through the doors of the emergency room, and reported the medical staff was pumping blood into Kieran as fast as he was losing it. “If you hadn’t found him when you did, he would have died. The surgeon says it will be touch and go.”

  Bonny felt all the strength leave her legs and collapsed into his arms. “I can’t lose him. What will I do?”

  “He will make it, Bonny. A lot of people are praying, and the three of us should also.” Maggie took her hand and between them, she and Hamish led her to a couch in the waiting room.

  The last time she had felt so afraid was standing beside her parents’ grave. “You don’t understand. The people I love don’t get better, no matter how I pray. I love him so much, and I’m going to lose him.”

  “Your friend Dan didn’t die. You’ve done everything possible to keep Kieran alive. I’m proud of the way you took charge and bandaged the wound. You’re the perfect wife for him. In a short time you’ll be on your honeymoon, and this will be a bad dream.” Maggie stroked the hair away from her face and pulled her close.

  Kieran was still in surgery when Graeme and Janet arrived. Acknowledging their presence with a nod, she continued her silent pleas for a miracle.

  “What have they told you?” Graeme asked.

  Hamish took Bonny’s cold hands in his warm ones. “Before surgery they said he was doing better than expected, considering the massive amount of blood loss. According to the doctor in the ER, the pressure dressing Bonny put on saved his life.”

  “See, my dear,” Hamish kissed Bonny’s cheek. “The doctors are doing their job now. The rest is up to God.”

  When Dr. Wallace came out four hours later, they gathered around him in stony silence. Hamish introduced Bonny and Maggie, and the doctor took Bonny’s hand. “Good job. You kept him from bleeding to death. Don’t be surprised if we give more blood tomorrow. The bullet did serious damage. We have more than replaced his blood volume, and I removed a third of his large intestine. He will be weak and his recovery slow. We’ll keep him in the recovery room for at least three or four hours. You can see him when he wakes up.”

  “Will he live a normal life with so much of his intestine missing?” Bonny asked.

  “He’ll do fine,” Dr. Wallace said. “Once he recovers, he won’t notice. We’ll have him up walking by tomorrow if his blood work is good. He needs lots of rest, no lifting, regular hours, and a lot of sleep. Being the active man he is, you have your work cut out for you keeping him quiet.”

  “You know Kieran, Dr. Wallace?” asked Bonny.

  “Call me David. We became acquainted as undergrads in Glasgow. His reputation as a champion in the Highland Games still follows him. Everyone in the operating room knew of him. I see him occasionally in Fort William, where I have a summer home. He’s going to be in ICU until he stabilizes. You can have family or friends donate blood. Get some sleep. You’re going to need your strength.” He squeezed Bonny’s ha
nd and walked away.

  The constant beep, beep, beep, of the heart monitor haunted Bonny whether she sat at Kieran’s side or not. He would wake for brief periods, but say nothing, sometimes taking a sip of water or trying to smile, but then drop back to sleep. She was afraid of him dying when she wasn’t there to say good-bye.

  Kieran attempted a smile when Bonny and Maggie walked in. Bonny rushed to his side, kissing him on the cheek while Maggie did the same on the other.

  “What happened?” He turned from one to the other in confusion.

  “The poacher shot you,” Bonny answered. “Don’t you remember me helping you onto Misty?”

  “No.” He shook his head with a bewildered expression.

  His hand felt heavy and failed to give hers the strong squeeze she was used to. “You passed out, and I was afraid you’d fall off, but Constable MacFadyen had arrived by the time we reached the house, and then the helicopter came. They removed a third of your large intestine, and you have blood in your veins from all the people you love.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. Maggie said, “We almost lost you, mo balachan. You gave us a terrible scare.”

  “The poacher?” He glanced from one to the other.

  Bonny wiped his face with a cool cloth from the bedside stand. “The manhunt is continuing. No sign of him yet, but the constable says they’ll get him. When I found you, I saw tracks from his ATV heading toward the A87.”

  He rubbed his eyes as if awakening from a dream. “How long have I been here?”

  “Three days, dear,” Maggie answered. “You’ve been unconscious the whole time. Janet is here, and Graeme is coming back. People in three churches are praying for you.”

  “Four,” Bonny said. “Don’t forget the church in Albuquerque.”

  “The farm?” His brow furrowed in concern.

  Bonny squeezed his hand for reassurance. “Angus and Seumas can handle it. Your da talks to them a couple of times a day.”

  He began to doze again, but Bonny refused to leave his side.