MacFarlane's Ridge

by Patti Wigington

  When Mollie came in she spotted Cam, nose buried in the dried twigs, and laughed. “Rosemary, basil and rue,” she said.

  “They smell good.”

  “Aye, an’ tis good luck to have the three of them hanging above your hearth.” Mollie paused, and looked her over.

  “Ye’re awfully tall for a lass, and a wee bit thin.” She sniffed daintily. “I imagine ye’ll be wanting to clean yourself up a bit?”

  Cam blushed. “I don’t suppose you have a bathtub?”

  Mollie shook her head. “Nae, but I have something much better. Follow me.”

  Cam followed her into the next room. It was no bigger than a large closet, and it was quite chilly. The walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves were packed with bags and jars of dried plants and fruits. There were several large hams dangling from the beams in the ceiling. Mollie leaned over and pulled up a ring in the floor, opening a trapdoor.

  “Down there,” she pointed. With that, she hopped nimbly down the ladder. Cam was confused. Why would going into the cellar have anything to do with bathing? She followed Mollie cautiously, careful not to drop her quilt.

  When she reached the bottom, Mollie had a lantern in her hand, and Cam saw that she was not in a cellar at all, but a small cave. In the center was a pool, and Cam could see the steam rising from it. Ian MacFarlane had a hot spring under his house.

  Mollie handed her a bar of rough soap. It smelled like bayberry. “I make it myself. I hope it will suit ye. Robbie says ye’ve traveled a long way, and had a hard time of it. I’ll give ye some time down here alone.” Mollie smiled shyly at her. “It’s been a long time since there’s been another woman my own age here, besides Sally Kerr, and she’s been busy with her bairns. If ye like, I could comb the snaggles out of your hair once you’ve washed.”

  Cam couldn’t help but smiling back. “That would be wonderful, Mollie. This soap is heavenly. You should market it and make a fortune.” She suddenly realized she was rambling. “Sorry. Er, what am I going to wear?”

  Mollie thought a moment. “Well, you’re too tall to wear anything of mine. We can borrow a dress from Sally until we can make one that fits you, but we canna get to her place till the storm lets up.” She grabbed the quilt away from Cam and looked at her critically. “I can see I’ll be needin’ to fatten you up a wee bit. Ye’re rather long in the legs, are ye not? Ye can borrow one of Ian’s shirts and a pair of trousers until we can get to Sally’s place. Now, go take your soak. Ye smell like cow dung.”

  With that, Mollie scooted back up the ladder and out of sight. Cam stripped off the offending tank top and underpants, and poked a toe into the pool. It was indeed warm, and it wasn’t long before she was completely immersed. She slid underneath the water and blew bubbles, and scrubbed herself heartily with the soap. She washed her hair twice, feeling like it would never be completely clean after going so long without shampoo. As she bathed, she sang cheerfully. This was heaven. The only thing missing was a razor. She could live in Ian’s cellar for the rest of her life, she thought with a smile, and just have Mollie toss down a bucket of stew every once in a while. She floated luxuriously in the spring pool and pondered what was going to happen next.

  The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. How was she going to get home? What if she was trapped here forever? Although she wasn’t exactly sure how long she had been here, it had been a few days at least, and therefore her shop should be open today. If no one had noticed her absence yet, once she didn’t open the store on Wednesday, Alice and Hal would figure out there was a problem. On the other hand, surely someone at the Sheriff’s Department would have noticed that Troy was missing and begun a search. She hoped he was alive. She liked Troy a lot. He was a good guy, even if she didn’t return his romantic inclinations. She splashed the water in frustration. There was a good chance she’d never get back. She would just be another missing person in the statistics. No one would ever know what had become of her.

  A movement near the ladder caught her eye, and she looked up to see Mollie approaching tentatively. She held a bundle.

  “I’ve brought ye a shirt of Ian’s, and a skirt that was my sister’s. I forgot it was here. Ye can try it on and see if it fits ye. And here’s some wool stockings that might be the right size,” she announced.

  “Thank you,” murmured Cam, as she clambered out of the spring and dried off with a rough cloth Mollie handed her. The room felt cool now that she was out of the warm pool, and she dressed in a hurry. Mollie had to help her with the green wool skirt, which had a tie in the back to keep it from falling down. It was a few inches too short, but it would do, and Ian’s long shirt fit her just right. The stockings were thick and her feet warmed back up immediately. She wiggled her toes inside the stockings.

  “I like these,” she admitted. “Thank you for doing this for me, Mollie.”

  Mollie stepped back and eyed her. “Aye, you’re certainly welcome. We can probably let out that skirt some and make it longer. In the meantime ye’ll have to make do with men’s shirts. Nothing of mine will fit those long arms o’ yours.”

  Cam glanced down a bit self-consciously.

  “Now,” said Mollie, “come on upstairs and we’ll get the mice out o’ your hair.”

  She followed Mollie obediently up the ladder, and back into the main room. The fire blazed heartily, and a small boy about a year old sat playing with a pile of wooden blocks. He looked at her with wide eyes.

  “Doo,” he said authoritatively. Cam smiled down at him. He was short and stocky, like his father, but she could see a resemblance to Sarah and Mollie in the boy’s pale hair and slanted eyes.

  “Hello there,” she said.

  “Doo,” the boy repeated.

  “Move your bottom, Hamish. That’s a good lad. This is Miss Clark, and she’s come to bide with us a while,” Mollie said. She sat on a chair and pulled up a stool for Cameron. “Sit here, then.”

  Cam sat, and soon Mollie’s deft fingers were combing and detangling Cam’s freshly washed hair. Neither of them spoke, and the only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and the singsong noises of the boy. Somewhere in the house, Cam could hear male voices. Although she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she decided from the tone that Robert and Ian were having a rather heated argument.

  She was warm and comfortable, and her eyes began to close.

  “You’re done, lass,” whispered Mollie. “Ye look much more presentable now. Come, ye need to get some sleep, aye?”

  Mollie guided her to another room, and Cam toppled into the bed. She never heard Mollie covering her with the thick blanket. Mollie Duncan took one last peek at the sleeping stranger on her feather mattress, and tiptoed out to the common room. She got Hamish ready for bed, and tucked him into his pallet by the fire. Then she sat and waited. She knew Rob and Ian would be in whenever they finished discussing things.

  December 8, 1775 –

  The young lady that Robert has brought to us claims that she was with my beloved sister at the time of poor Sarah’s death. Apparently she was struck by a carriage, the driver not seeing her as she ran into its path. While I am naturally distressed by this most horrible news, in a way I am relieved to know that Sarah is now in the safest hands of all.

  Ian seems not at all surprised by the news of my Sister’s death, and I sense that he is a bit relieved. I have forgiven him somewhat for his reluctance to have his wife returned from Captivity by Savages. I do understand his point of view, although I do not agree with it. Hamish is recovered from the sickness that kept him coughing all last month, and Ian is making an effort to spend more time with his son. I look at the boy and see my Sister in his eyes, and it saddens me that he will never know her. I take comfort in the knowledge that when he is older, I can tell him that she died protecting him. Had she not stopped the Savages at the door, they surely would have butchered the child where he lay.

  It appears that somehow Sarah found herself in Charleston, South Carolina, which is
where young Miss Clark has traveled from, many miles from here. Miss Clark, in contrast, is searching for a missing friend of her own, whom she believes to be in this area of Virginia.

  Although she is a bit reserved I should like her to be my Friend.

  “So now that ye know for certain that your Sarah’s gone, Ian, what d’ye mean to do about Mollie?” Rob asked his brother. They were sitting in the back bedroom, sharing a bottle of whiskey. Rob sat on Ian’s bed, his long legs dangling off the end. Ian perched in a corner chair, ruffling his hands through his sandy hair.

  “What do I mean to do about Mollie? I’m not sure I know what ye’re saying, Robbie,” he frowned.

  Rob sighed. “You’re thick as a post sometimes, Ian. I mean are ye planning to marry her or not?”

  Ian’s eyes widened in terror. “Marry Mollie? Are ye daft, Robbie? I’m afraid o’ Mollie. Why would I marry her?”

  “Well,” Rob reasoned, “she has been living here and taking care of the lad for ye. She cooks for ye, cleans your house, mends your torn trousers, and basically makes sure your whole life doesn’t fall to ruin while ye’re moping about over your lost dead wife.”

  Ian scowled. “Are ye finished?”

  “Nae. I’ve really only just started. Now, you and I both know that Mollie is living here and she sleeps in her own bed, or at least she had better be, since I went to all the trouble of building it for her…”

  “Oh, she is, she is,” interjected Ian hurriedly.

  “Then in that case, she is practically a wife to ye anyway, except in that one aspect. And ye know people will start to talk after a while. So if you don’t mean to marry her, ye need to send her back to livin’ in her own house, Ian.”

  “Who would take care o’ me if she moved back to her place?” Ian asked, quite concerned.

  Rob refilled his glass. “You might consider takin’ care o’ yourself, aye?”

  Ian fidgeted. “Marry Mollie? I don’t know, Rob, she’s a bit of a harpy lately. She yelled at me the other day.”

  Rob laughed. “Ian, whoever you marry will yell at you at some point.”

  Ian shook his head. “Not Sarah. She never yelled at me.”

  “Aye, well maybe she should have. At any rate, think about it. If you’re not going to marry Mollie, then let her get on with her own life and find herself a husband.”

  Ian reached for the bottle. “Aye, and what’s this woman you’ve brought back here with ye, dressed in man’s clothes and covered in dirt?”

  “Once again, you’ve managed to turn the conversation away from you and back to me, Ian.” Rob raised his glass in a salute. “I just mean to help her out a bit. I’ll look for her friend and then send her back off to Charleston.”

  “How did she come to be in the mountains? And how did Sarah get to the Carolinas? We’re more than a wee bit from Charleston,” Ian pointed out.

  “Aye, well, she says she got lost while she was looking for her friend. By the way, do you know a family named Mayberry?”

  Ian thought hard. “I dinna know for sure. I believe I once met some Mayberrys from a settlement up near Big Lick, but ye should ask Angus. He knows everyone in the county.”

  “And when will Angus be back?”

  “Sometime in the spring. He’s spending the winter in Philadelphia, then he’ll be makin’ his way back through Richmond. Ye should read some of his letters. He is sitting with men of importance, like Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Franklin!” Ian said proudly. “But back to yon bedraggled lassie…”

  Rob rolled his eyes and finished his whiskey. “There’s nothing more to say.”

  Ian hopped over to his brother and sat beside him on the bed. “Is she married?”

  “Nae, she’s an old maid, like you’ve turned into.”

  Ian boxed his older brother on the ear, and received a punch in the gut for his trouble. They fell onto the floor, pummeling each other, until finally Ian wiped the blood from his nose and said, “All right, Robbie! I give, I give!”

  Panting, Rob rolled onto his back. He could feel his left eye beginning to swell. “D’ye think Mollie will fetch me some snow to put on this?”

  “I doubt it. She’ll more likely blacken your other eye.”

  “Aye. It’s good to be home again.”

  “Aye. Good to have ye back, brother.”

  Chapter Seven

  “It’s still snowing,” said Mollie, as she handed Cam a steaming cup of black coffee.

  “I thought it must be. It’s so quiet here in the mountains.”

  “Aye, and the snow makes it even more so. It was a storm like this last year when my sister was taken.” Mollie looked pointedly at Cam. “You saw her.”

  Cam sighed. She had known this would come up sooner or later. Obviously Rob had told Mollie some of what had happened. She nodded. “I saw her. I’m sorry, I really am. I did what I could to help her.”

  Mollie shook her head, and fiddled with the hem of her long skirt. “Aye, well, I dinna know how much Robbie has told ye. It might have been harder for her if she had come back here.”

  Remembering her conversation with Troy -- had that only been a week ago? – Cam merely nodded.

  “I do thank ye, though,” Mollie continued. “Not only for tryin’ to be of aid to her, but also for letting us know that she really is dead. Ian can go on, now. Not bein’ certain was the worst part of all of it, ye ken?”

  Cam understood. There was a noise from the doorway, and the brothers MacFarlane entered the room. At some point in the night she thought she had heard singing, something about stealing cows. Ian looked perfectly horrible, the obvious result of a large bottle of whiskey that now lay empty in a corner. A smudge of dried blood was crusted to his upper lip, and there were rust-colored spots on his white linen shirt. Rob, on the other hand, looked quite cheerful, despite the swollen eye. He nudged Ian out of the way, and crossed the room to the coffee pot in the fire. Cam was sipping her coffee carefully. It wasn’t quite what she was used to, by any stretch of the imagination.

  As he poured himself a cup, Rob looked around the room. His eyes rested on Cam. He started, and Cam watched as the hot coffee spilled over the rim of the cup.

  “Bloody hell!” he swore, hastily putting the pot back on its stone. He hurried outside to stick his hand in a snow bank.

  “While ye’re out there,” Mollie called, “Ye may wish to grab a clump for your black eye as well, ye big fool!”

  Ian staggered over the fire and sat down. He gawked at Cam, and did nothing to hide his surprise. “Look at ye! Ye’re not near so bad when ye’re cleaned up and combed out, are ye, lassie?”

  Cam smiled radiantly at him. “Thank you, Ian. That’s very nice of you to say so. Er, what happened to your nose?”

  He put a hand to his face. “I dinna remember, exactly, but I expect Robbie punched it.”

  By this time, Rob had come back in. Cam smoothed out her skirt and smiled pleasantly at him, but he said nothing. He merely went over to the table and helped himself to a plate of eggs, which he wolfed down heartily.

  Cam seethed. He was insufferable. It was obvious that Rob had been startled by her appearance this morning, she had seen the double take he did before spilling coffee all over his hand. Ian had been polite enough to comment on the way she looked, but his brother couldn’t be bothered, even though she knew he had noticed. What was it about Rob that made her want to just slap him?

  When she had gotten up this morning, Mollie had already been awake. The younger woman fixed a breakfast of porridge, eggs and ham that made Cam salivate. She had offered to help – despite what Rob MacFarlane thought, Cam was a fair cook – but Mollie shooed her away. Cam occupied herself playing with Hamish, who was demonstrating his ability to not only build but also topple piles of wooden blocks.

  “How can any man eat eggs after drinking as much as ye did?” grumbled Ian.

  Rob shrugged. “I’ve drunk far more and far worse than that on a ship.”

  Ian looked back at Cam. “Did ye trav
el from Charleston by ship?”

  “Um, no, not exactly. I got sort of lost,” she answered vaguely. Apparently Rob had not mentioned the Faeries’ Gate to Ian or Mollie, and Cam was perfectly content to avoid the subject.

  “I got lost in the woods once,” said Ian. “It was in a great fine forest near our home, just outside of Cumbernauld, and I was but a wee sprout…”

  “You were at least twelve, and it was in a wee thicket behind our grandfather’s house, you fool,” grumbled Rob. “She doesna’ want to hear your story.”

  Cam glared at him. How dare he? “On the contrary, Rob, I would love to hear it. Ian, would you please continue?”

  Ian grabbed a chunk of ham from the table and resumed his story. “As I was saying, I was just about this high, no bigger than wee Hamish…”

  Rob snorted and stomped out into the snow, slamming the door behind him. Mollie watched him with interest. There was obviously tension brewing here. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she could tell there was something. She would keep watching and see what developed.

  Robert MacFarlane grabbed a spade from its place beside the door and began to scoop snow. The flakes had finally stopped falling, and the sun was now peeking out from behind the clouds. He shoveled the snow off to the side, clearing a path to the barn. The exercise was good for him, it was just what he needed.

  He hadn’t planned on being so startled this morning when he saw Cameron Clark. The change in her appearance wasn’t as shocking as his own physical reaction to it. To compound matters, his fool brother was in there gawking over her like a lovesick schoolboy, and telling her tall tales about his non-existent youthful adventures.

  After Meg, Rob had been convinced he would never become involved again, and so far he had kept true to that promise. Now he found himself thinking about Cameron Clark almost all the time. A voice broke the silence.