When You Love a Scotsman

by Hannah Howell

  A moment later a soft whine sounded and she got up to go to the wagon. Picking up the baby, she grabbed a new changing cloth and, laying him down on the wagon bed, quickly changed him into a dry one. Tossing the wet cloth into an empty bucket, she wished she knew where some water was. She got a bottle, saw that she would have to milk the goat, and went to sit down near Matthew again to feed the baby.

  “He has lost that newly born look,” he said and idly rubbed the baby’s foot.

  “Babies this young change every week. It is actually quite fascinating to watch. Well, if you are not the only caretaker. I suspect that can leave one too tired to get excited over little changes. Which is a bit of a shame.”

  “Aye, it is. He is a good-looking little fellow, but then his mother and father were fair to look at.”

  “I don’t see either of them in him yet. Perhaps as he grows something will show.” She sniffed the air. “Whatever James is doing it certainly smells good.”

  “Told you. We had to shoo off the other fellows in camp when he cooked. They would all come wandering in looking to help themselves to some.”

  She grinned. “And you proved to be very unwelcoming, I suspect.”

  “Verra. Then they tried to get James assigned to their group. Major didn’t oblige.” He glanced at Boyd. “Do ye think Boyd will ever get the use of that arm back?”

  “No idea. The doctor told me he can find nothing truly wrong with it but there are a lot of reasons for Boyd to not want to test that.”

  “I was wondering about that. It will probably be a surprise to him one day when he just uses it without thinking.”

  “That was exactly what I thought but can’t think of anything that would work to tempt it.”

  James stepped over to hand them each a plate. Abbie hastily set the baby down on the blanket next to her. It was a thick stew of beef and some vegetables and Abigail had to admit it was surprisingly tasty. By the time she finished, she was full and feeling increasingly sleepy. It had been a very long day. She glanced at the baby, saw he was sound asleep, and wondered if the two of them should curl up in the wagon. She hoped the night did not grow too cold.

  Picking up the baby, she stood up and walked back to the wagon. To her surprise, James brought Matthew back and settled him on his bed. As he walked away, she climbed into the back and put the baby’s crate at the very head of the bed. Once she had swaddled the child in a warm blanket and put him in the bed, she placed another small blanket over him and then lay down on the other half of the bed Matthew had.

  “Going to sleep here with me, are ye?”

  “I am not sleeping on the hard ground if I don’t have to.”

  Good.” He slid his arm around her and tugged her close, ignoring the twinge it caused his healing wound. “This will be much warmer.”

  “Careful of your wounds.”

  “They are healing much better than I thought they would. Family has always been fast healers if we get the wound dressed fast.”

  “That is convenient.” She covered her mouth as another yawn tore through her. “Sorry.”

  “Why? Ye are obviously tired out. Go to sleep, Abbie. I am sure the wee lad will be waking ye up soon enough.”

  “He will,” she murmured as she closed her eyes. “I am hoping he is quick to grow out of that.”

  Matthew pulled the blanket up until it covered them both and he watched her fall asleep. She cuddled closer with a sleepy sigh. He had to admit he was deeply curious about how she would be to sleep with. He did not mind the snuggling at all.

  “Shall I move her?” asked James, and Matthew could hear the laughter in his voice.

  “Nay, thank ye, but I believe I can stand it.” He glanced back at James who had rested his arms on the side of the wagon. “Dinnae ye have anything to do?”

  “Did it. How are your wounds? It looked like you were moving with more ease today. Still careful, but not wincing with each movement.”

  “They do pinch from time to time. Once the stitches can come out that will end.”

  “Are you gonna marry the girl or not?”

  “I’m thinking on it.”

  “You do know you can overthink things.”

  “I ken it. I am just thinking on the many things that matter when a mon makes such a move. Like whether she snores or kicks like a mule in bed.” He grinned when James laughed.

  “It really doesn’t need so much planning, you know.”

  “It needs some so one can be sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  “That when ye ask she willnae say nay.”

  James winced. “True. There is always that to consider. Want my opinion?”

  “If I say nay, ye will still give it to me, willnae ye?”

  “I will. I think you are worrying about something that will never happen.”

  “Ye cannae ken what her feelings are.”

  “Nope, but I can know she is not a woman who goes out walking with a man if she is not willing to marry him.”

  “What if willing is not all I am looking for.”

  “Figured that and don’t think it is all you’d get.” James straightened up. “Rest well, my friend. We will get to your home on the morrow.”

  Matthew thought about that as he watched James go and settle down on his rough bed near the fire and begin talking softly with Boyd. It had not actually been that long since he had been home, but too long for him. He had begun to pine for his home months ago. It almost made him laugh because he had spent most of the time fighting in these hills but still ached for home.

  He knew what it was he ached for. He wanted his brothers. It embarrassed him in a small way since he was a grown man, but he had never actually spent any time away from his brothers and, annoying though they could be, he heartily missed them. There were too many times he would see or do or think of something and wish one of his brothers was there to share it with. He had always understood that they were a close family, but he had never realized just how close. He wondered if any of them suffered or had done in the same way but could not think of a time when any of them had been away for as long as he had.

  Then he wondered what they would think of Abigail. The very fact that he wondered made him believe, yet again, that he had to stop being a coward and ask the question before she decided she was wasting her time and walked away. It made him think though, because he would be bringing her into the family, just as Iain had brought in Emily. He felt suddenly sure that Abigail would fold in neatly and calmly. The baby would disappear into the growing number of children around the place. As would Noah, he thought, knowing she would get the boy, and grinned as he nuzzled her hair and curled his body around hers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Abigail yawned widely behind her hand as James secured George into the traces. It was still early but she suspected it was going to be a warm day. And a sunny one, she thought happily. It could prove a good day for travel, but she hoped it did not get too warm. She was especially pleased that the night had not grown too cold, however. She had bundled the baby up as well as she could but had not really needed to. Abbie prayed her good fortune would continue. Jeremiah was still too young to fight off the illnesses a chill could give him.

  Matthew braced for some pain but experienced little as he sat up and rested up against the back of the driver’s seat. He did wish his arm was not still a bit sore and useless. Abigail knew how to drive the wagon very well but he had seen all the signs yesterday of sore shoulders and arms. It was too much for a woman to do for any length of time, especially if it was not something they did regularly. If he tried to do the gentlemanly thing and take over for her he would no doubt pull out all his stitches, which would just make more work for her.

  “We’re set to go,” said James after patting George’s neck. “I’ll take point.”

  “Ready,” said Boyd as he climbed up into the wagon seat next to Abigail and placed the pistol he carried on his lap.

  Abigail made sure her rifle was in reach, then c
hecked her ammunition, and picked up the reins. Her shoulders protested a little at the start and she knew, at the end of this journey, they were going to be very painful, but she said nothing. James was the only able-bodied man and she could not call on him to give her a respite. They needed him scouting for trouble and able to deal with it. She only had to do the job today, she told herself.

  By the time they halted for a midday meal, Abigail was no longer so happy about the sun. It was much too hot. Good weather for the baby to travel in, if properly shaded, but not so pleasant for someone stuck on a wagon seat with it beating down on her head and in her eyes. She searched through her chests and dug out an old sunbonnet her mother had liked. It would not only cover her head but shade her eyes and, she hoped, that would ease the pounding headache she was getting.

  Eating a little food, which her stomach protested about, she then tended to Jeremiah and got him back to sleep. She settled him back in his bed under the shade of the canopy she had stretched over it and paused to take a few minutes for herself in the hope of getting rid of her headache. Lying down next to the baby’s bed, she held a cool damp cloth to her forehead and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  “Our wagon is stuck,” said James as he sat on a rock next to Matthew.

  Matthew looked at the wagon and frowned. “Doesnae look stuck.”

  “It’s stuck right where it is until the driver wakes up.”

  “Then wake her up.”

  “Nope. I have a rule. Never wake a woman.”

  “Stupid rule,” Matthew muttered as he got up to walk over to the wagon, the other two men quickly following.

  Matthew stood by the side of the wagon staring down at Abbie, his companions flanking him. He noticed she had put a canopy over the baby’s bed to keep him shaded. The cloth spread over her forehead told him she had gotten a headache and he suspected that was also why she was sleeping. He felt an odd feeling in his chest and sighed. He was well and truly caught and, he had to admit, he had not fought it at all.

  “Why won’t ye wake a woman?” he quietly asked James.

  “Because every time I would be sent to wake up my sister, Rebecca, she would punch me in the face.”

  “Ye probably deserved it.”

  “My sister Nell screamed and kicked,” said Boyd. “I’d just give her a little shake and she’d scream as if I was killing her, then kick me. My mother always said she was probably having a nightmare.”

  “I complained to my father,” said James, “and he said my mother punched too so he just gave her a poke with a stick, a long stick. So I started doing that, right up until she got married. My sister’s husband doesn’t have bruises so I have to wonder if he does the same. Pa might have warned him.”

  “My mother told me to just stare at her, that a person can sense that and wake up. Just to be sure, I had my brothers and sisters come with me and we all stared at her. It worked,” said Boyd, and nodded as if it had been the greatest hint of knowledge he had ever been given.

  “How many brothers and sisters do ye have?” asked Matthew.

  “Four brothers and three sisters,” Boyd answered. “The girls were the worst at waking up. Boys just cursed you, rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I just have brothers but, while they might not wake up cheerful, they do wake up without any trouble.”

  “Then you wake her up,” said James.

  “Why not just let the lass sleep for a bit?”

  That sounded like a good idea, Abigail thought, but doubted she would be able to after hearing their ridiculous conversation. For grown, battle-hardened men, they could certainly talk a lot of nonsense. Then she wondered if they had these moments of silliness because of how ugly their lives had to be sometimes when caught up in a war. It was a sad thought and she quickly shook it away.

  “What is that on her head?” asked Matthew.

  “A sunbonnet,” replied Boyd. “My mother always wore one.”

  “Looks like a coal scuttle.”

  Abigail decided that was more than any woman should have to endure and, fighting the urge to grin, she grabbed her rifle. She heard James curse and, when she rose up on her knees, she saw that all three men had ducked down, hiding by the side of the wagon. She put her rifle aside, moved to the side of the wagon, and peered over. It was nearly painful to hold back the urge to laugh.

  “Why are you down there?” she asked.

  “Checking on the goat,” said Matthew as he awkwardly stood up.

  “Is she all right?”

  “Looks fine,” said Boyd.

  He brushed off his coat and frowned at her. “Where is your rifle?”

  “Over there.” She pointed to where it was always set, away from the baby but still within reach, and allowed herself a small grin since her face was turned away from them.

  Matthew glared at James who just shrugged and grinned. “I panicked.”

  Ignoring them, Abbie checked to be sure Jeremiah was still safely shaded and asleep then climbed into the driver’s seat. “I think we ought to put the goat into the wagon,” she told Boyd when he climbed up beside her.

  “Why? She really did look just fine. Only a bit dusty.”

  “Because I need her milk for Jeremiah and I don’t think it is good for her to be trotting along under there. It is too hot and dusty. Even a goat has to be bothered by that.”

  “Ah, I suppose it is possible it could affect her enough for her milk to dry up.”

  He climbed into the back and used her chests to form a pen for the animal, pushing them to the sides and angling them to make a square with the wagon side. Abbie climbed into the back and stretched a blanket out to shade the area. She hoped the goat wouldn’t eat it as she secured it to the wagon. She got down to drag the goat out and heft her into the wagon, placed her in her newly constructed pen, then tied her rope to the back of the seat.

  As Abbie got back into her seat she decided she needed a new name for the animal. She could not understand what had possessed Mrs. Beaton to call the goat Delphinium. Perhaps the animal ate some of hers, she decided as she picked up the reins and they started on their way.

  “Are ye going to wear that hat all the way?” Matthew asked as he rode up by her side.

  “At least until the sun sets, the coal scuttle stays on.”

  Matthew winced, realizing she had been awake longer than he had suspected. Boyd hid a faint smile behind his hand but James was grinning widely and he knew the man was fighting not to laugh. Matthew tried to think of something to say, something that sounded like an apology, but he could not think of a thing. He did really hate that hat on her.

  “Does the sun give ye freckles? I have heard women try to avoid those.”

  “No. It burns me. I don’t get freckles but I get badly burned skin. So it does not even make me get darker in color, just peels horribly.”

  He decided he would try to forget about the hat for a while. It was more important for him to concentrate staying on his horse. It was proving far more difficult than he had thought it would be.

  Matthew sighed and fought to ignore how his wounds felt. James was acting as their scout because he could not ride hard, but it was beginning to feel like he should not be riding at all. The doctor had warned him but he had not listened, had not wanted to. He could tolerate the ache in his arm and leg but the pinching pain and ache in his belly was a bit more than he could bear, especially since every movement of the horse caused it to ache or sting.

  Abbie glanced at Matthew and suspected he should not be riding his horse so soon after being wounded. He was looking a little gray. She just hoped he had the sense to get in the wagon if he got too sore or weary. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him cover his stomach and then she silently cursed. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from yelling at him to get in the wagon. Since she could see no sign of renewed bleeding she would just leave him to his misery for now.

  “Has the goat left enough room for me?�
�� Matthew asked a half hour later.

  Abbie looked at him. “I believe so. Shall I halt the wagon?”

  “Aye. It was too soon for this,” he muttered.

  “I thought it might be,” she said quietly as she halted the wagon.

  “What’s wrong?” asked James as he rode up and then he looked at Matthew. “Ah. Giving up.”

  “Too soon,” Matthew said as he dismounted with as much help as Boyd could give him. “Arm and leg are all right but the damned stomach wound isnae cooperating.” He climbed into the wagon and leaned back against the wagon seat back. “It complains with every move.”

  “Harvey said it would,” said James as he unsaddled Matthew’s horse and tied it to the back of the wagon. “Maybe you ought to have listened to him.”

  “As ye would have, I suspicion.”

  James laughed. “Not at all. To my way of thinking, if it is sewn up and blood’s not flowing, it’s mended. Always been proved wrong and survived. Pa always said ‘grin and bear it’ and I took that to heart. Then again, Pa never went to a real doctor. Probably should remind myself of that from time to time.” James remounted his horse. “Going to be riding around you for a while. Want to check the rear, your flanks, and be sure we don’t ride right into something. Just have a feeling it would be best.” He turned his horse and road off.

  “He gets a lot of ‘feelings,’ doesn’t he?” said Abbie as she started the wagon moving again.

  “Aye, and we always heed them. My mother would have said James has the gift.”

  “Gift? What gift?”

  “Gift of sight or some other thing. She had belief in all the old ways. James has some instinct that warns him of trouble, a kind nay everyone else is blessed with.”

  “Ah. My brother had something like that. It was one reason we were so stunned when we were caught by surprise by those men on the day they took him. It must have failed him because he was caught and taken.”

  “Or it didnae fail him at all. He might have kenned about the attack but thought he could save his kin.”