“But- !” Ciaran looked around for someone to help her. Sean was marching over. Surely he would take her side? He wasn’t a good man, but Aidan was his son. “Sean!” she cried. “Please! Tell Monsieur LaSoeur we can’t go until we find Aidan!”
“You may stay and look for the boy. He is your son, but the group cannot wait.”
“Sean!” Ciaran croaked. They couldn’t go without Aidan. They just couldn’t.
“We have to leave, Ciaran,” Sean muttered, although he didn’t look her in the eye when he spoke. “If we stay then we’ll all die.”
“No!” Ciaran gasped, horrified. “I won’t go without him! I WON’T!”
“That is your choice,” LaSoeur said, effectively washing his hands of the matter. Quite a large crowd had gathered to see what was going on and what was causing the hold up. A lot of the people looked sympathetically towards Ciaran, but they were also all shifting impatiently to be of.
“I won’t leave him!” Ciaran sobbed, as Sean grabbed her arm in his cruel grip. She tried to fight him, but he was far too strong.
“Dammit, Ciaran!” Sean spat, hissing under his breath. “What would you have us do? Do you want to lose Mary and Liam, and Avery and Ryan too?” he demanded, shaking her roughly.
“I don’t-I can’t-”
She was crying now, and she could barely see through her tears - until her eyes, darting around, still searching for Aidan, met his. Ciaran looked into those unforgettable blue eyes and understood, as clearly as if the words were spoken aloud, that Duncan MacRae would find Aidan for her.
Thank you.
She willed the words with every fiber of her body, hoping that, somehow, he would know. If – when - he found her baby, he would have her eternal gratitude. She would give him anything he wanted. Sean’s fury would be nothing next to her relief.
“Move it!”
Cairan stumbled as she was shoved roughly forward. She had barely righted herself before Mary was thrust into her arms.
“Walk!” Sean grunted, nudging his elbow sharply into her back.
She stole a glance at his expression, hoping to find some inkling of remorse. His jaw was set. His shoulders were leveled, and he didn’t even try to look back.
Cairan, however, couldn’t help it. She twisted around, pausing again as she cast her eyes over the thick black ocean of trees that had swallowed first her son, and now the Scotsman too. She felt a flutter of hope at the realization MacRae had truly gone, but that happy spark was quickly snuffed by the realization they had both been cast loose now. If Duncan didn’t come back, they were both lost.
Ciaran tried to convince herself the others would wait to find him. A little wandering boy was one thing, and a laird was quite another, but she knew that as loyal as the MacRaes were, they were practical too. They knew the odds of one man surviving alone in the savage-infested wilderness, just as she knew the odds of survival for one man and one small boy.
She resolved not to think of that now. For the moment, she clung to hope. There was nothing to do but wait and pray.
..ooOOoo..
Duncan held his horse to a walk and kept close to the side of the trail, squinting in the brush for some small sign of the missing boy. In the woods of Kintail he might have taken his chances off the path, but these were not the woods of his home, and he didn’t trust his sense of direction enough to take the risk, not that remaining on the road was precisely safe. Maybe it was only his imagination, but he felt a constant prickle on the back of his skin. He was being watched. He would swear it, but whenever he turned around there was nothing there.
He was painfully conscious of how exposed he was. Duncan had acted without thinking. He had heard the rumor rippling through the line that Aidan was missing, and the devastation on Ciaran’s face confirmed it was true. He had simply turned and left. Despite the rashness of his action, he knew he would have done the same if he had stopped to think. Ciaran needed him, and he owed her. At last, he could repay her for the harm he’d done. Even if he didn’t, Duncan couldn’t bear to leave a child alone in the woods, not without trying to find him.
Duncan’s grip on the reigns tightened as his thoughts raced back through time, reminding him of when he had been the little boy all alone. He had only been a little older than Aidan, just before his brother Ewan was born. An older cousin had convinced him the arrival of the new baby meant he was being replaced, and so he had decided to run away.
A shiver ran along his spine as he remembered the journey he had made, sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night, convinced the ghosts from every story he’d ever heard were nipping at his heels until the sun finally lightened the sky. By breakfast time he’d been weary and bitterly regretting his choice. He wanted to go home. But the light snowfall that had started had worsened so he didn’t know where to go. When it stopped, the temperature had fallen. It got so cold that his body ached.
It was many years before Duncan knew that sort of misery again - not only the physical pain, but the ache of feeling unwanted, of feeling no one would care enough to notice he was missing at all, and the terrible horror of being alone. Lost and frightened, even simple noises sounded like monsters and tiny challenges seemed immense. He could remember, all too well, the panic that Aidan must feel now, and it spurred him to hurry his pace.
“Aidan!” Duncan called, finally deciding he was being watched already. Calling out wasn’t going to tip the Indians off any more than they already were. “Aidan Connelly!” he yelled.
There wasn’t any answer.
Duncan continued forward, looking doggedly from side to side. “Aidan!” he called out the name until his voice was raw, but there was never a sign of the child. Finally he made it back to where they had crossed the river. This was the end of the line.
Aidan couldn’t make it across alone.
Duncan peered into the water, almost afraid of what he would see. The current was too strong for a little boy. If he’d tried to go into the water…
No!
Duncan had come too far to accept that fate. He must have overlooked something, or Aidan had wandered off the trail. Even the thought the boy might have been kidnapped by the natives was preferable to believing he’d drowned.
Duncan wheeled his horse around and began to look again.
“Aidan!” he cried more desperately. “Aidan, lad! You’ve got to come along!”
He rode another half mile up the trail, back in the direction he’d come, and then he doubled back again. He didn’t want to catch up with the others. He couldn’t face Ciaran without her son.
“Oh, Laddie, where are you?” Duncan whispered, pausing for a moment and putting his head in his hands. He was missing something. He must be.
Duncan jerked in the saddle as a new sound met his ears.
Crying?
He almost didn’t believe it, convinced his mind was playing tricks.
“M-m-ma-ma!” a tiny voice warbled, and Duncan leapt down from his horse.
“Aidan!” he cried out hoarsely, trying to follow the sound. Almost as soon as he spoke, however, the crying stopped. There wasn’t any sound at all.
Duncan groaned in frustration. He was sure he’d heard the boy. He must be close. Why wouldn’t he answer?
“Aidan! It’s Mister MacRae! Your mama sent me, laddie!”
Duncan held his breath.
Then, to his immense relief, he heard a rustling of leaves and, a second later, a pair of weepy blue eyes peeked up at him from inside a fallen log.
“Aidan!” Duncan said in relief, bending over and scooping the child up into his arms.
“I t-thought you was the injuns!” Aidan admitted, lower lip quivering. “I thought you were going to cut off my head!”
“Awww, no lad!” Duncan told him. “Of course I’m not. I’ve come to fetch you. You wandered off again.”
“I’m sorry!” Aidan blurted, bursting once more into tears. Duncan squeezed him closer and rocked him for a moment or two, but then he felt the prickling
again. Duncan might not have any intention of scalping the boy, but that didn’t mean the child was safe.
“Well, everything’s better now,” Duncan told him, carrying the child to his horse. “We’ve got to go now,” he said in a low, gentle voice. “Your mama’s awfully worried!” He thought it better not to mention what Aidan’s father’s reaction had been.
“I’m s-sorry!” Aidan said again, and it was obvious he meant it. The misery on the child’s face was matched only by what Ciaran’s had been.
Duncan nodded his head and hoisted the child onto the saddle before climbing up on his own. He nudged the stallion in the ribs, but didn’t let him run. He couldn’t guess why the Indian’s hadn’t descended on them yet, but it seemed wise to maintain the status quo. Maybe if they thought he wasn’t watching they’d be willing to leave him alone? Probably they were holding off on a raid for fear that the resultant gunfire would alert the other’s to their position.
Duncan reached around the boy, casually fingering the stalk of the rifle laid across the seat. Luckily, he’d had time to prime and load the pistol as soon as rumors started flying around the camp. He had one shot that he could use.
The minutes seemed to crawl by as they rode back to the wagons. With every step, Duncan’s dread continued to grow. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger. He didn’t dare turn his head to the side, but thought he caught a glimpse of the natives from the corner of his eye. He forced his expression to remain calm, and focused his energy on chattering with the little boy.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he rounded a bend and saw the wagon train winding through the pass below.
An anxious shout went up at the sound of his horse, but Duncan waved his hand in the air, reassuring the others it was only him. He rode quickly to the head of the line - to Ciaran.
..ooOOoo..
Ciaran’s eyes had almost swollen shut from crying. Duncan had been gone for so long. She was starting to fear she had really sent him to his death along with Aidan. Her baby! How could any mother bear to outlive their child? Ciaran honestly didn’t know how she was going to be able to carry on if she had truly lost her son. What if he was still alive out there somewhere, suffering and all alone?
A frightened shout went up from the back of the wagon train and Ciaran’s heart lurched in her chest.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about outliving Aidan after all?
Although it was panicky at first, the noise quickly became jubilant, and, as it worked its way up though the train, distinct.
“Laird MacRae! Laird MacRae’s back!”
Ciaran twisted around and hung over the side of the wagon to look behind. Duncan! Duncan had returned? Did he have Aidan?
“Turn around, Ciaran,” Sean snarled, reaching for her with one hand so that he could drag her back down beside him.
“I just want to see-” she started to plead, but broke off with a cry when Sean pinched the soft skin of her arm hard. Ciaran blinked back more tears. How could any man be so heartless? Didn’t he care about Aidan at all?
“I know what you want to see,” Sean spat. “You know he’s only pretending to give a damn about Aidan to get you on your back!” he hissed cruelly.
Ciaran sucked in her breath and tried not to let Sean’s words touch her as she twisted around again. She didn’t care what he said or thought. She just wanted to see her boy.
“Aidan!”
Ciaran almost couldn’t believe her eyes! There was her son, looking upset, but not hurt as he sat on Duncan MacRae’s horse, just in front of the Scot himself.
“You found him!” Ciaran croaked, reaching out her trembling arms to take her son from Duncan. “You really did…” she whispered, convinced she must have been dreaming. No one had ever done anything so amazing and selfless for her before.
“Aye, I did,” Duncan murmured. He privileged Ciaran with a smile that seemed to melt her very bones, but before she could offer any further words of thanks he spurred his horse on and went chasing after LaSoeur.
“God, you’re disgusting,” Sean growled menacingly.
Ciaran flinched. There would be hell to pay later, but right now, she didn’t care. She had her baby back and Laid MacRae was safe as well. She hugged Aidan tightly, fussing over him as much as he would let her. He didn’t appear unwilling to be coddled, which told Ciaran how scared he must have been - thank the lord for Duncan MacRae!
The Scot, it seemed, was having a disagreement with LaSoeur. Ciaran frowned when she saw the two men were arguing. She couldn’t make out what was being said but Duncan seemed to want the wagon train to stop. Ciaran shuddered at the thought. Wouldn’t they do better to keep moving?
After a minute or two more, Duncan threw up his hands in apparent disgust. He turned away from the Frenchman and rode back to his own men, yelling orders at them to dig in and prepare to fight.
“LaSoeur! What the hell is going on?” Sean barked the question at the Frenchman as he rode past trying to get the wagon train moving again. Everyone had slowly drifted to a stop when they saw Laird MacRae arguing with their guide.
“Pfft! It is nothing! The Scotsman is crazy! We must move to ‘higher ground! Vite! Quickly!”
Why was Duncan crazy? That was what Ciaran wanted to know, but LaSoeur had already ridden off again and Sean had cracked the whip over their horses and got the wagon moving again.
“I’m scared, Mama,” Aidan whispered.
“Me too,” whimpered Liam, poking his head out from inside the bed of the wagon, where he and his older brothers were curled up underneath a tarp.
“Cowards!” Sean berated them harshly. Despite her fear, from the Indians and her husband, Ciaran felt her anger start to rise. It wasn’t fair of Sean to always be putting the boys down. They were just children.
“Connelly!”
All of a sudden Duncan rode his horse in front of Sean and Ciaran’s wagon, forcing their animals to stop.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sean snarled.
“You aren’t going to do what that French idiot tells you, are you?” Duncan demanded.
“Well I’m sure as hell not doing what you say!”
“Sean, please?” Ciaran begged, looking between the two men. “What do you think we should do, Duncan?” she asked timidly. He cast what looked like a sympathetic glance in her direction.
“Stay with us and make a stand here. We’ve still got a little time to form defenses if we-”
“Shut up, MacRae! We’re not in Scotland now, and you’re not my laird.”
Ciaran watched Duncan clench his jaw, and she drew Mary even closer to her breast. What sort of a temper did Duncan have?
“I don’t have time for this,” he snarled, shaking his head. “You can go ahead and take your chances if you like, but you have a wife and five bairns who might want to live.” He looked straight at Ciaran when he spoke next. “Do you?”
“Sean, maybe-maybe we should listen to Mister MacRae?”
Sean went an ugly shade of red. A vein pulsed in his temple and a muscle twitched in his jaw. For a second Ciaran was afraid he was going to reach across and strike her, but at the last moment he seemed to get a handle on himself.
“Fine, do whatever you want, Ciaran, but if you go now don’t think you’ll be welcome to come back.”
“Don’t make it too hard a decision for her now,” Duncan muttered under his breath, his voice laced with such heavy sarcasm that Ciaran thought he was a little lucky Sean hadn’t heard him.
Duncan was right though. There wasn’t really any choice. Clasping Mary to her breast, tugging Aidan along, and hoping the other boys would follow, Ciaran climbed out of the wagon before she could change her mind. She couldn’t see yet, but Avery, Ryan and Liam hopped out the back of the wagon too.
Sean looked down at her in disgust. His face clearly saying if the Indians didn’t kill her, he would.
Cairan didn’t allow herself to think about that now. She could feel the danger s
wirling around her. Rather than wallowing in fear, primal instinct had taken hold, allowing her to focus on protecting herself and her children now.
Duncan looked as if he dearly would have loved to scoop them all up into his saddle, but there wasn’t room and there wasn’t time.
“Hurry!” he said sharply, and then sprang away on his horse, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Ciaran and her children followed.
“Papa’s gone.”
Ryan’s doleful voice caused Ciaran to turn. Sure enough, the wagon had continued on, along with about a third of the caravan. All of the MacRaes and about half of the others had elected to stay behind.
“Tip the wagon!”
Duncan had leapt off his horse and was helping the men form a barricade against a ridge.
The women and children were busily unloading supplies and securing the livestock while the men primed and loaded their rifles in preparation for attack.
“HURRY!” Duncan’s voice urged them on. “They weren’t far back. They’ll be here soon.”
Ciaran clutched the children close as she looked from side to side, wondering what she should do.
All the other families were hunkering down in the beds of their wagons, but Ciaran’s wagon had gone with Sean.
“Down there!”
Ciaran spun around, surprised and relieved to see MacRae. He was pointing toward a natural gully that ran along the side of the road and was mostly covered in weeds. “Stay down!” he told her as Ciaran and the boys crawled down into the ditch. He started to turn, but hesitated. He looked at Avery.
“Do you know how to shoot?”
“Yes, sir!” the boy answered, eyes widening when Duncan handed him his pistol, keeping only the rifle for himself.
“Don’t you dare fire that unless you don’t have any choice!” he warned sternly. “You have to-!”
He was cut off.
An arrow had arched through the sky, catching Tanner MacNab in the shoulder and knocking him off his horse. The rest of the Scots had just enough time to get into position before a blood-curdling battle cry filled the air, and Indians descended.
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