by L. L. Muir
RABBY
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor (No.7)
By L.L. Muir
AMAZON KDP EDITION
PUBLISHED BY
Lesli Muir Lytle
www.llmuir.weebly.com
Rabby © 2015 L.Lytle
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Series © 2015 L.Lytle
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
BOOKS IN THE SERIES
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
About the Author
DEDICATION
To all those laddies
…who will seek their father’s approbation
until the day they die.
BOOKS IN THE SERIES
The Ghosts of Culloden Moor
1. The Gathering
2. Lachlan
3. Jamie
4. Payton
5. Gareth (By Diane Darcy)
6. Fraser
7. Rabby
8. Duncan (Jo Jones)
9. Macbeth
A NOTE ABOUT THE SERIES
Although the individual stories of Culloden’s 79 need not be read in strict order, The Gathering should definitely be read first to understand what’s going on between the Muir Witch and these Highland warriors from 1746.
The Reckoning, Number 79’s story, will finish the series.
The names of Culloden’s 79 are historically accurate in that we have used only the clan or surnames of those who actually died on that fateful day. The given names have been changed out of respect for those brave men and their descendants. If a ghost happens to share the entire name of a fallen warrior, it is purely accidental.
Rabby
CHAPTER ONE
It wasn’t easy to rouse the soldiers from their deathbeds in the middle of the day. And an oddly bright day it was. But Miss Soncerae had instructed Rabby to go say his good-byes, and after knowing the men for two hundred sixty-nine years and two months, he couldn’t simply leave without a fare thee well, could he?
He neared Number 32, Leif Lindsay, with dread in his heart, for it was Leif who sometimes awoke with half his face missing if he didn’t take the time to right himself before moving about. Cor, but it was a frightening sight to look at a man and see what lay behind him at the same time, ghost or no.
The man lay on his back near the right end of the Jacobite line, where he’d served in Forfarshire’s Regiment. A black and red corner of his Rob Roy plaid waved in the wind—though it was a windless day. He blinked up at the sky with just the one eye, but quickly righted himself and rose to his feet as he sensed Rabby approach. In the end, Rabby’d had no need to avert his gaze.
“Sir?”
“Aye, Rabby?”
“Dauphin and I are away, then. Miss Soni’s come to call us on to some brave deed.”
“Auch, aye?” The man frowned and his gaze lifted in the direction of the car park, then returned. “Look at ye then, so important and grown up ye’re needed before the rest of us?” He chucked Rabby under the chin and gave him a wink. “Weel, get on with yer high and mighty self, then. Canna keep the lass waitin’. And when ye come face to face with that prince, ye give him one poke in the eye and a second in the snout. One for ye, and the other for Dauphin.”
Rabby laughed along with him. “I will that, sir. And Godspeed to ye as well.”
Leif nodded, patted Dauphin on the shoulder. He looked off, unseeing, into the distance, fading as he did so. “I’m content to wait until I’m called…” He was gone before he finished.
It sunk in then. This was the last he would see of Culloden’s 79. And Leif Lindsay’s imagined breeze sent a chill through him.
High time I moved on, he told himself. Besides, it wasn’t the same now, with Fraser gone.
He picked his way toward the next man having a lie-in, as many seemed to be doing that morning. To a man, the rest were pleasant. Each one had a kind word to say when he told them Soni was there to fetch him and the dog away. But the sun, shining through their dimmed side of existence, cut their conversations short and sent many a man back to his muddy bed.
Others wandered off in the direction of their thoughts or made straight for Cameron, Number 7. After bidding Rabby farewell, the tall man was warming up to the sound of his own voice. And once Cameron started speaking, he could never seem to stop until he’d told a great long tale. One yarn would lead to another, and then another. And so it would go until he got round to recounting the days leading up to the battle of Drumossie Moor, as their resting place used to be called.
This was the part the other spirits enjoyed because, more often than not, in Cameron’s telling, the war ended differently. Indeed, the truth was a stranger to Cameron most days, and it would be a foul-weathered evening or an evil moon that would dampen the tall one’s humor and lure from his mouth the true version of that April morning.
But with the sun shining brightly, the men were guaranteed a lively account that would no doubt end with the Scottish army driving the Government troops south until every last one of them lost his footing and tipped off the white cliffs at Dover.
Rabby reckoned by the time Cameron’s voice grew strong, he’d have at least seventy of Culloden’s 79 gathered close, in spite of Miss Soni standing in their midst.
Odd, that.
Usually, when Soni neared the moor, every man was on his feet and alert, uncaring about weather, sunshine or no. Cameron himself would be shutting his gob and making note of where he’d left off, to take up his story again after the lass had gone.
But perhaps, Rabby reasoned, the witch had come only for him that day and the others were not invited to witness his going.
It made him feel a wee special. But he was also disappointed the rest wouldn’t be gathered around the bright bonfire, watching him step forward and volunteer. They’d not witness his brave face before he would be whisked away in dramatic fashion, as the others had been.
Rabby took a deep breath and let it go. It was enough that he would never again wake to see Leif’s missing face, never need to put forth a brave air for Fraser, even though he was greeting inside. He’d never again feel the weight of Kennedy’s secret on his mind, or the secrets of others…
On the morning after the battle, Rabby had been the first to hail many of them when they’d risen, and some hadn’t been able to hide those secrets quickly enough from him. But he’d kept his lips tight and carried those confidences about like the satchel at his back. The responsibility had been heavy at times, and he would be glad to be rid of it.
All those years, he’d reckoned it was that special duty that kept him there, on the moor. Keeping skeletons from escaping the cupboard—so to speak. But since Summer Solstice, the men had been in agreement that it was the thirst for revenge that had bound them together.
He’d nodded along, of course, loathe to lead any ghost into believing he didn’t belong. But in truth, he didn’t blame the prince. For he knew, good and well, the fault for his death on that battlefield…lay at his own feet.
Now that he had it from Fraser’s mouth, that there was nothing to fear by taking up Soni’s offer, he was anxious to get going. Although she’d promised he would not be facing a test, she would be sending him on an adventure nonetheless. If he truly did prove himself the heroic sort and win himself a boon, he hoped he’d be offered something much more gratifying than a meeting with the prince.
In fact, he wanted nothing more than what every ten year old boy wanted. Only, after waiting all those years, he was sure he wanted it more than any other could…
CHAPTER TWO
It took purpose of thoug
ht to resist joining the other ghosts headed in Cameron’s direction. If ever Rabby had heard a true siren’s song, it was the tall man weaving tales of happier times filled with victories and celebrating. But if he was a quick lad, he might be celebrating soon enough on his own!
He found Soni standing on the footpath with Kennedy to one side and a black haired gentleman on the other wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Fraser, sadly, was nowhere to be seen. So apparently their farewell had been a final one, just as Soni had said. He swallowed hard, forcing the truth into his belly. He was on his own now. His protector was gone. If Rabby was lucky, Fraser wouldn’t be needed, but he would certainly be missed.
As he neared the group, he tried to keep from looking at Kennedy directly. He was always afraid he might betray that one’s secrets with just a glance, so he averted his gaze when others were about. He slowed, to be sure he wasn’t interrupting their conversation, but Soni waved him forward. The look on her face boded bad news.
“Rabby, lad,” she said with a frown. Her hands twisted in front of her. “You ken Kennedy, but this,” she pointed to the man on her right, “is my uncle Wickham. We’ll need his help today.”
The man looked him in the eye, just as Soni always did. Perhaps the ability to see spirits ran in the blood then.
Rabby nodded to the man but was greeted by an outstretched hand. He shook it firmly, as Fraser had taught him—in theory, not practice. But it wasn’t until he felt the warmth of her uncle’s flesh that he realized he could feel! And what was more, the grinning man could feel him as well.
“Cor!”
Wickham chuckled. “Cor, indeed!”
Rabby held tight for a moment longer, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Once he let go, he looked about for what might be missing. Then he had it.
“Miss Soni?”
“Mm?”
“Where’s yer lovely green circuit? That hoop of light that spins about ye when ye’re sending the men away?” He tried not to sound too eager, but nothing about his challenge seemed to be unfolding as the others’ had.
“Auch, laddie. No great mystery there. The green ring is for protection. I need no protection while Wickham is near. Does that satisfy ye?”
He didn’t know how to mask his disappointment. “Aye. I just…”
“Would prefer the bright light and the big fire?”
He nodded, embarrassed she read his thoughts so easily.
“Yer wee adventure will be quite different from the rest, Rabby, but no less exciting. And ye’ll be extended the same boon, of course, if that is what ye desire.”
He bit his tongue to keep his own secret, then nodded.
Soni’s frown returned. “I’m sorry to say, though, that Dauphin must remain behind for the now.”
His fingers clamped around a handful of thick black hair and held. Dauphin was the only thing he’d been able to feel through the centuries. It was a gift from God it was, and grateful he’d been for the security he’d felt—and the chance to comfort the poor beastie that had been trapped on the moor by Rabby’s own doing. To leave the dog behind seemed like an ungrateful thing to do.
But after a moment’s thought, he supposed part of proving his bravery entailed proving it alone.
“I only worry about Dauphin,” he said, and gave the beast a pitying look, imagining how lonely he’d be without Rabby as a companion.
“I’ve already thought of that,” Soni said, and tipped her head toward Kennedy.
With a single pat on the leg, Kennedy proved that Dauphin was not so particular as Rabby believed him to be. But no matter. It was better the dog stayed with someone familiar.
“I’ll be back,” he assured the mongrel.
Soni shook her head. “No, Rabby. Ye’ll see Dauphin on the other side—”
“But Fraser came back—”
“Fraser had made special arrangements. I cannot do the same for ye. And besides, I’ve no pixie dust in my pocket for the dog.” She must have read something desperate on his face for she heaved a resigned sigh. “How about this? If ye find yerself in need of Dauphin’s help, Wickham here will ensure the animal can come to ye. And if ye’ve no need of him, he’ll be waiting.”
“Waiting? Ye mean…” He gestured with his finger, up and over.
“Aye. On the other side,” Soni said, then wrinkled her nose. “One last farewell then.”
Rabby chanced a glance at Kennedy. Though the tears in those eyes were phantoms, the tears in his own felt real enough. He stepped forward, double-time, and wrapped his arms around Kennedy’s waist and held them up as if they truly touched.
“Go with God, lad.” A quiet whisper, and then Number 55 began to fade, along with Dauphin.
“Wait!” He dropped to his knees in front of the beast and Dauphin’s form returned. “He must be given a chance to say good-bye, mustn’t he? He’s needed me all these years. It will be a shock for him, sure, when I’m not there when he wakes. I must at least try to help him understand.”
No one argued.
He grabbed the sides of Dauphin’s head and shook the fur, then scooted his hands up to ruffle his ears. The dog closed his eyes and relished the attention, but when those eyes opened again, they seemed to hold all the regret of the world.
“Don’t carry on so,” Rabby whispered.
Soni’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Let him go, laddie. He understands.”
Rabby nodded and climbed to his feet, and though it might have been his imagination, he thought the dog gave him a nod just before he faded completely.
The thought that kept him from crumbling into a heap of tears was this—if the dog understood so well, perhaps he also understood how Rabby regretted luring him away from home that day so long ago.
CHAPTER THREE
Soni made a noise in her throat. “Are ye ready, Rabby?”
He swallowed a bit of something lodged in his own windpipe, then swallowed again to be certain it was gone. “Aye.”
She smiled warmly, nodded to Wickham, and stepped back.
The man moved to face Rabby and held out his forearms with his hands open to the sky. Bulging with veins and muscles they were.
“Push back yer sleeves, laddie,” he said. “Bare yer arms and take a hold of my own.”
Rabby did as he was told—pushed back the layers of loose clothing until his forearms were bare, pale and scrawny as they were. He laid those arms over Wickham’s and gripped the thickest part of muscle, managing to wrap his fingers only half way round them, amazed once again that his own ghostly limbs didn’t pass straight through to the other side.
Wickham’s hands then took a firm hold of Rabby’s arms just below the elbow, able to hold tight just as Soni and Simon MacLaren had been able to touch each other like true mortals.
The man gave him a nod of approval, took a deep breath, then released it slowly.
“Rabby,” he said quietly, “hold tight until the end, aye? Dinna let go no matter how strange ye might feel.”
His insides trembled with apprehension, but he nodded just the same.
Nothing to fear, Fraser had said. Nothing to fear.
“Good lad.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Soni take another step backward off the footpath and onto the grass. He couldn’t help wondering what she knew. But it was too late to question.
Wickham gripped him tighter and he was suddenly able to feel the pinch of it. After centuries of feeling no pain, the slight burst of it shocked him and forced his eyes shut, but still he held on.
He felt other things as well—a wash of warmth flooded his ears, his head and neck. His chest rose and fell again. The coolness of the late morning air lit his lungs from inside and made him giddy.
Scotland—a burst of taste in his nose, a sensation on his lips as he drew a breath over them. The salty tang of earth melted into his tongue and he wondered how he’d ever forgotten the flavor in the first place.
His stomach filled with teasing scents and grumbled from want of s
omething more.
He thought the onslaught was over and slit his eyes open to peek at the man concentrating before him. Wickham’s brow twisted, his frown deepened, and his fingers bit deeper into Rabby’s forearms. Rabby was tempted to let go, fearing what the man intended next. As if he read Rabby’s thoughts, however, he loosened his hold slightly and the bite of pain was gone.
Still he held.
The sensation of heat filled his hips and buttocks, then spread down into his thighs as if hot blood were pushing through his veins, forcing his puny muscles to accept and expand.
Through those slitted eyelids, he watched the man before him grow shorter as if he was sinking into the pavement. But it wasn’t Wickham sinking, it was himself…growing! The man’s grip hadn’t lessened out of sympathy but because Rabby’s arms had increased in girth. No longer were his arms puny bones wrapped in a thin layer of muscle and even thinner layer of skin. They were nearly of a size with Wickham’s and still growing.
His eyes opened wide and he giggled at the ground as it moved away from him. But the voice wasn’t his own. It was deeper, older. He cleared his throat to hear it again.
Wickham’s eyes flashed open and one of his arms fell away as if the magic spell was broken by the interruption. Rabby opened his mouth to apologize, but Wickham shook his head. “It is done, Rabby. And we’ve arrived.”
Arrived?
Rabby looked about him, still holding on to the man’s arm, concerned that if the contact were broken, he might find himself small and scrawny again. But they hadn’t gone anywhere. They still stood upon the moor, but it seemed as though many others had arrived as well. And in battle costume.
“Drumossie field,” Wickham said, his voice hushed with reverence. “Do what ye must, laddie. But remember, ye cannot change the path of history, aye? If we could do such a thing, it would have been done already.”