MacFarlane's Ridge

by Patti Wigington

  Cam’s head began to spin. “Where…”

  “Oh, your boyfriend was on board, as well as Angus. The captain made sure of that for me. Rob is a remarkable man, you know. He and I got to talking, and we found out we’re not that different. We’re both good-looking, we both would like to get you in the sack… yes, I’d say we have a lot in common. Oh, except for one thing. He’s very, very dead.”

  Cam froze.

  Wayne continued. “It’s probably better that way. Prevents those long, drawn-out goodbyes.”

  “It’s not true!” she hissed, rage and fear contorting her face.

  “Missus?” whispered Jamie.

  She looked at him. “What?”

  The boy looked frightened. “I saw him, missus. He shot Master Rob. In the captain’s cabin. An’ Master Rob didna’ get up again, missus.”

  Cam closed her eyes. I should have known this would happen… she felt the tears forming, but she was not going to cry in front of Wayne Sinclair.

  “Oh… gee whiz, Cameron,” sneered Wayne. “Too bad. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but… oh, well, never mind. So it looks like all three of us will be going back together. As they say in the movies, let’s get back to the future!”

  “Wayne, you have completely lost it,” snapped Wanda.

  Cam looked at the boy. ‘What about Jamie?”

  Wayne shrugged. “I could kill him. Or we can leave him here, and eventually the landlord will find him, and probably toss him in jail for being a vagrant.” He leered at the cabin boy. “You know what happens to little boys in jail?”

  “Wayne, let him go!” ordered Cam suddenly. Sinclair looked up in surprise.

  “Wait a minute, Cam. I have the gun. That means I’m in charge, and you have to shut up, remember?”

  She swallowed. “Please let him go.”

  Sinclair’s eyes narrowed. “And I should do this why?”

  “Please. I’m begging you,” she said softly, not looking him in the eye.

  He leaned in very close then. “This is a change for you, isn’t it? Who is this new, noble Cameron Clark that’s actually willing to beg me for a little boy’s life?” Wayne stroked her cheek delicately. “Are you going to make it worthwhile for me?”

  Cam stared straight ahead. “I might.”

  Sinclair looked her up and down. “Well, Cam, I am feeling mighty charitable today. Even on the basis of an “I might”, I am willing to let the little bastard go.”

  “I’m no’ a bastard,” pointed out the boy politely.

  “Right, whatever,” shrugged Wayne. He motioned with the pistol to the door. “Scat.”

  Jamie glanced apologetically at Cam and Wanda, and scampered out the door without looking back. She could hear him clattering down the stairs, his hurried footsteps finally fading.

  Rob is gone, thought Cam. The fantasy is over, and it’s time to go back after all. Maybe this is what Wanda meant when she said I might not like what happened in Richmond. I should have listened to her in the first place.

  “All right, Wayne,” she said numbly, tossing her few belongings in her bag. She picked up the copy of MacBeth, and for a fleeting moment thought to leave it behind. Rob was dead. It was all over. Jamie had confirmed it. At the last second, though, she stuffed it in her pack. If it made it through her trip back, it would make a nice addition to the display case in the window. If I still have a shop when I get there, she thought morosely. She left the Culloden sword where it stood, wrapped in oilskin in the corner.

  Wanda was adjusting her dress, and watching Cam carefully. “You don’t believe it, do you?” she asked under her breath. Cam ignored her pointedly and turned to the door. “Cam?” Wanda hissed. “He said he’d come back for you.”

  Cam whirled to face her. “Well, he can’t do that now, can he?” she asked bitterly.

  Wanda watched Cam’s back as she left the room, head held high. Wayne motioned to her with the pistol. “Come on, sweetheart. Time to play tour guide.”

  Somewhere in Central Virginia

  May 1776

  On their fourth day out of Richmond, Wayne Sinclair indicated that it was time for Cam to repay him for sparing young Jamie. She had been sitting by the fire, gnawing on a piece of stale bread. She was dirty and tired. Wanda was snoring peacefully a dozen feet away. Sinclair sat down next to Cam.

  “Do you think she really knows where we’re going?” he asked pleasantly.

  “I hope so.”

  “You should hope so. If this is some kind of trick you two have cooked up, I’ll have to shoot you both,” he admitted.

  “I guessed as much.”

  Wayne stared at her. “You have hardly said a word to me this entire trip, Cam. I am crushed. You’re breaking my heart.”

  She stared into the fire.

  “About young Jamie,” he began. He placed a hand on her knee. “Now, you realize I only let him go as a favor to you. You know, I do like you, Cam, even though you are a huge pain in the ass. I think we actually have a lot of shared interests.”

  “I doubt it,” she murmured, watching the flames dance. You murdering bastard.

  “No, I mean it,” he continued. “We’re both dealers in the old and interesting. Granted, my shop is a little, well, a lot more high-class than yours, but Granny’s Goodies has the potential to become profitable eventually. As long as people are willing to pay for the stuff, why not unload it on the unsuspecting masses? I think you’ve pulled it off quite admirably.”

  “Gee. Thanks, Wayne,” she said tonelessly. His hand was still on her leg, squeezing her knee gently.

  “Anyway, about the boy. You do realize, of course, that you owe me for that?”

  She nodded. She wasn’t even listening to Wayne prattle on. She was thinking about Rob and dear Angus, and little Hamish with his fat cheeks and Mollie and even Ian, who had at first seemed a sweet coward and then proved to be so much more worthy than she had imagined. She thought about the Ridge and Tom and Sally Kerr and their house full of homely girls and slow-witted handsome boys. She would never see any of them again. If she made it home, she would only read about them in the local historical archives, if at all.

  “Are you paying attention?”

  “Of course,” she answered blandly.

  “So then you understand what I am saying about payment,” he pressed. Cam ignored him, staring into the fire. “You in exchange for the boy.”

  She knew full well what he was talking about. She glared at him with disgust, and said nothing.

  Wayne rolled his eyes. “You didn’t think I did it out of the goodness of my heart, did you?”

  Cam cringed. She was repulsed by the very idea, but at this point was too exhausted and hurt to even argue with the man. She had to buy herself some time. “Wayne, I am tired, filthy and cranky. I am not even going to consider it until I feel better. Leave me alone.”

  Wanda rolled over in her sleep, mumbling something indecipherable.

  Wayne removed his hand from Cam’s leg. “Have it your way. You have twenty-four hours to give me what I want, or I’ll just have to take it. Do you understand me?”

  He patted her shoulder and wandered to the edge of the clearing to relieve himself. Cam looked away.

  Great. Either I let him sleep with me or he rapes me, she thought desperately. She looked over at Wanda’s sleeping form, and wondered if the other woman had overheard the exchange.

  The next morning, after a breakfast of porridge and dried meat, Wayne Sinclair became violently ill.

  He awoke to find Wanda pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. “How are we?” she asked, a wide grin on her freckled face.

  “Guunnhh,” moaned Wayne.

  “Good. Feeling like shit, are you?” she asked cheerfully. He was in the back of the cart, and Cam was sitting up front, trying to guide the horse up the winding trail.

  “I’m gonna die!” he hissed at Wanda, eyes wide.

  Wanda thought about this for a moment. “No, unfortunately you aren’t. But you
will be barfing for a day or two.”

  Wayne pulled his knees up as another spasm wracked his intestines. “Aaaagh. How do you know?”

  Wanda merely looked at him. “You must have eaten something that didn’t agree with you.” She patted his hand and climbed back up to the seat of the wagon, taking the reins from Cam.

  Cam glanced at her sideways. “What did you do?” she muttered under her breath.

  Wanda sighed. “Dogbane. I put it in his porridge,” she said softly, glancing back to the rear of the cart. Wayne was oblivious.

  “You’ve poisoned him?”

  Wanda shrugged. “Not exactly. He won’t die, like I said. He’ll just throw up for a while.”

  Cam looked at her, impressed. “What inspired this?”

  Wanda examined the reins. “Because Wayne won’t try anything with you if he’s throwing up every twenty minutes. It was the only thing I could think of, besides killing him, and I haven’t figured out yet if I should do that. I have to think about it.”

  “Why?”

  Wanda didn’t look at her. “Just trust me on this one, okay? He may need to live, at least just a little while longer. But I promise I’ll make him miserable as long as I can.”

  Cam smiled to herself, despite the coldness of Wanda’s words. “We could just dump him out on the side of the road. No one would ever find him out here.”

  Wanda nodded. “I considered it, but you have to admit he is remarkably resilient. He did recover from a heinous leg wound, if you recall. I’m afraid if we dump him he’d eventually find his way back to civilization. Then we’d spend the rest of our lives wondering if he was coming back to Haver Springs.”

  “Good point.”

  Wanda hesitated a moment. “You don’t really believe him about Rob, do you?”

  Cam stared straight ahead. “Jamie said Rob was dead. He saw it happen.”

  “Jamie is a child. What the hell does he know?”

  “Maybe it is better this way, Wanda. I’ve thought about this a lot,” Cam admitted. “I think he was ready for me to go back, and he just didn’t know how to tell me. He basically ignored me the whole time we were in Richmond.”

  There was a retching sound from the back of the cart.

  “How ya doin’, honey?” called Wanda.

  Wayne gagged loudly.

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” she chirped. She turned to Cam with a grin. “Maybe he’ll dehydrate and die on us, and solve the whole dilemma for me.”

  “There’s always hope,” Cam said dryly.

  They were approaching a large open field. Waves of young tobacco plants covered the ground.

  “We’ll be there soon, you know,” said Wanda. “Probably by mid-day tomorrow.”

  “What do we do once we get home?” Cam mused.

  “You go back to your little shop on Meador Street.”

  “What about you?” Cam asked.

  Wanda ignored her, and began to whistle a jaunty tune.

  “Wanda, stop that. What about you?”

  “I’m staying here.”

  Cam felt her mouth drop open. “Are you insane? You can’t stay here!”

  Wanda tugged the reins, and the horse came to a stop. “Cam, I don’t have to explain myself to you. You seem to be forgetting something. I am from here. Just like you are from Haver Springs, the future. I was born in 1743, Cam. I am entitled to stay here and die here some day, if I choose to. This is where I am supposed to be.”

  Cam stared at her. “But you’re not little Winifred Mayberry lost in a cave anymore! You’re Wanda Mabry. You’re a history professor, for crying out loud!”

  Wanda smiled sadly. “And maybe if I had been born in the 1960’s, like you, Cam, I would be able to go back and have that life again. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, believe me.” She sighed. “Who wouldn’t want to return to a world like that? A world where mothers don’t have to die in childbirth, a world where you can hop on a plane in Charlotte, and four hours later be in Los Angeles? Hell, in the here and now, Los Angeles hasn’t even been discovered by the white folks yet; there’s nothing there right now but some Mexican peasants and their sheep and a few lonely priests. Don’t think for a second that I haven’t considered my options. I just,” she paused, “I just don’t belong there. I feel like I could do something of substance if I stay here, where I’m supposed to be.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. Wayne Sinclair slept restlessly, tossing and turning in the back of the wagon.

  “Where will you go?” Cam asked quietly.

  Wanda shrugged. “The Revolution is in full swing in the northeast. They always need people there. Maybe I’ll go be a spy, or a doctor, or dress in men’s clothes and pick up a musket.” She brightened for a moment. “Maybe I’ll start keeping a journal too, so you’ll know what happened to me!”

  Cam burst into tears. “When I get back, everyone here will have been dead for two hundred years!” Except Rob is already dead, and it’s because of me.

  “Cam,” said Wanda firmly. “It is time for you to go home. And if I have to throw you into that whirlpool myself, you will go.”

  “We are headed to Fairy Stone, aren’t we? That whole thing about it being a one-way ride, that was just a bluff, wasn’t it?”

  “Some of it,” acknowledged Wanda. “To answer your question, yes, we are headed to Fairy Stone.” She glanced back at Wayne, snoring blissfully. “But I meant what I said. There are other portals, I’m sure of it. I’ve been studying this for a while, remember.”

  Cam sighed. “This whole thing has been like a dream. I can’t believe I am going home.” She blew her nose on a corner of her dress. “I don’t really have any reason to stay here, though, do I?”

  Wanda shook her head. “I don’t know, honey. I really don’t.”

  “Okay.” Cam took the reins from Wanda, and coaxed the horse into action. They spoke no more as the cart rolled through the great tobacco field.

  The next morning, Wayne was still weak, but had ceased vomiting. He scowled at Wanda and Cam, brandishing his pistol.

  “I don’t know what you did, Wanda, you witch, but I know you’re behind this. As soon as you get me home, I’m going to kill you. And since everyone thinks you’re already dead, it won’t matter,” he grumbled.

  “Wayne, you’re babbling like an idiot,” said Wanda, tossing a bowl of cold porridge at him. “Just shut up and eat this.”

  He frowned at her. “I suppose I should thank you for not letting me die?”

  She smirked. “Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, honey.”

  “You’re hateful, Wanda. How much farther is it?”

  She looked out over the valley. They had camped for the night in a small glade on the hillside. The morning view was spectacular. “Not far, Wayne. We’ll be there sometime today.”

  Cam returned from the woods. If nothing else, I’ll be happy to pee in a real bathroom soon, I have to admit. And use real toilet paper, she thought. She was actually beginning to look forward to going home. As long as she didn’t think about Robert MacFarlane.

  Wayne drove the cart that morning, with Wanda beside him, giving directions. When the sun was directly overhead, the wagon creaked to a halt. They were at the foot of a mountain.

  “Fairy Stone,” breathed Cam.

  Wayne just looked at Wanda. “I knew you were lying, you bitch.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m sure you did, honey. But if you had been absolutely positive, you’d have killed me in Richmond, wouldn’t you?” She turned back to Cam. “Are you ready?”

  Cam grabbed her bag from the back of the cart, and followed Wanda through the trees.

  The cave was small, just like she remembered. Had it really been only a few months since Cam had slipped into the whirlpool under the falls? It felt like a lifetime.

  “How are we supposed to find our way through here?” asked Wayne sarcastically. “It’s pitch black in there.”

  “I brought a lantern. Here.” Wa
nda handed it to him. There was a soft glow in front of them, and Cam looked around. She was tired of caves.

  “It’s not far inside,” Wanda said. “You can hear the water from here.”

  Cam listened, and indeed she could hear it, not far off at all. She followed Wayne and the bobbing lantern through the tunnels. Wanda was right behind her. Before she knew it, they were there. The room opened up before them, the waterfall cascading in from the top. The vortex spun below the falls.

  “Here we are,” Cam said in a small voice.

  Wayne turned and smiled at her. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re staying here.” He drew the pistol from his belt.

  Cam stared in shock. “Now? You’re going to shoot me now, when we’re so close to home? Wanda, why didn’t you take his gun?”

  Wanda simply shrugged. “Long story.”

  Smiling, Wayne stepped closer. “I can’t have you two spoiling things for me when I get back to Haver Springs, can I?” He leveled the gun at Cam. It was old, to be sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to fire.

  Suddenly Wanda leaped at Wayne, knocking him to the ground. Before Cam knew it, Wanda was standing again, and this time she was the one holding the pistol. It was pointed at Wayne’s head.

  “Time to go, Cam,” she said. “Jump.”

  “Wanda, I…”

  “You need to go. By the way, when you get back, you might want to look for the rest of Mollie’s journals.” Wanda never took her eyes from Wayne Sinclair.

  “Listen, Wanda,” Cam stammered. “If you ever happen to be near MacFarlane’s Ridge, and you see Mollie…”

  Wanda nodded. “I’ll tell her.”

  “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll tell her. I promise.” She smiled sadly at Wayne. “Now go.”

  Cam obeyed, and as her feet left the ledge, she heard the crack of the pistol. She turned her head in mid-air to see, but she was falling too fast. She hit the icy water, and went straight down. She could feel her lungs tightening as the swirling pool closed over her head. Rob, I’ll never forget you, she thought. After that, there was nothing but the darkness.