Bram--#35--Ghosts of Culloden Moor

by L. L. Muir

  Sophie noticed him noticing. “Ranald’s mother says he knows how to count, so with the one boy down here, all seven children are accounted for. Only one hurt, but he looks good. Probably has a concussion, but nothing is broken.” She surveyed the mountain of rocks. “Even with all that effort, they hardly moved any.” She looked at the ground. “I picked a fine day to send all the men away, huh?”

  Bram helped her stand, then lifted her chin to make sure she could see his face. “They would have only gotten in the way, aye? The women of Inverbrae did themselves proud this day. Including their Lady Ogilvy.”

  Though there was no time for such things, he kissed her, letting his lips linger long enough to say what he’d failed to voice at the loch—that he’d fallen in love, even if she hadn’t.

  She blushed and turned her head to the side. “Go on. Find a way to save those children.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The promise of ponies worked much longer than anyone could have hoped, and the structure never lost another stone while a tower of ladders was lashed together. Longer ladders gave them height on four sides while the shorter ones were placed crosswise to strengthen the construction.

  With the children isolated on the third floor, that ladder tower was far too tall and narrow for anyone’s peace of mind, but time was running out.

  Sophie stood hand in hand with a hundred women praying frantically and silently for the ladder to work. She didn’t dare ask if there was a backup plan.

  When the children started crying because they were cold and hungry and terrified, a hundred sweet voices sang to them. Sophie didn’t know the song and couldn’t understand the words, but she hummed along, and the three and four-year-olds settled.

  There were no reporters on scene, no TV vans crowding the edges of the disaster zone. No one grumbled about why such small children were in the tower in the first place. No one looked for a pair of feet at which they might lay blame. Everyone just wanted the children back in their mother’s arms.

  Riders had been spotted coming from the direction of the rock quarry, but there wasn’t time to wait for another pair of muscles. They had all the muscles and determination they needed.

  The base of the fragile tower was wide enough that more than twenty women were able to hold onto it, adding what support they could. Then quickly, but carefully, a trail of women climbed up opposite sides.

  The ladders held.

  On the inside of the scaffolding, Bram climbed past the others, carefully but quickly moving toward the top. Two more crawled up after him in case a child fell. Then on top of the tower of bodies and wood, Bram emerged. He reached out an arm and the crowd cheered when his fingers nearly reached the window. They cheered even louder when he gently pulled a child out of the hole and into his arms. Then they quieted again and waited for the next.

  A rock suddenly slipped loose and tumbled down the broken side, and Sophie’s heart stopped. They all cringed in silence while they waited for the damned thing to stop bouncing against other rocks and land already.

  Bram wasted no time listening. He handed the first child down the center of the tower, to the clutching hands of all those posted along the sides. The little guy cried as he was passed from hand to hand. There would be comfort enough waiting for him on the ground.

  The next child was already in Bram’s arms when Sophie looked up again. He passed it off just as the next kid jumped out of the window, his trusting hands stretched out.

  Women gasped, but quietly. No one wanted to scare the children who were already terrified. And there were still three up there.

  Another rock fell, and before it hit the ground, a handful followed. The sound was sickening. The entire area was too dangerous, yet not one woman feared for herself.

  The fourth child needed coaxing. A lot of coaxing. Bram was the picture of patience.

  “Would ye like to choose first, Matthew?”

  “Choose what?” The voice was timid, confused, but curious.

  “Choose yer pony. Ye haven’t forgotten the ponies, surely.”

  “No. I hadnae forgotten.”

  He waved the child forward. “Ye’ll be careful to choose a healthy one, aye? One that will hold yer weight. Now. Let me see how heavy ye are, and ye’ll ken how big a pony ye’ll need, aye?”

  “I cannae reach out.” He sounded devastated.

  “Not to worry. I can reach ye. Just put a leg over the ledge, but dinna let go until I have ye, aye?”

  After a lifetime of waiting, a little leg appeared and tears poured down every face.

  “Give me just yer hand, now, Matthew. Just the hand.”

  A thin arm stretched out across what must have seemed an endless space and Bram took hold of it. But the ladder swayed dangerously close to the wall.

  A woman on the opposite side of the ladder let go with one hand and stretched out behind her. When the ladder straightened, Bram had the boy.

  The woman to Sophie’s left gave her arm a squeeze. “Two brave laddies left, aye?”

  Bram faced the window again. “Who’s next, then?”

  No one answered. No little head poked out of the window.

  “Ranald? Are ye in there?”

  “Aye.”

  The frustration in his voice was clear and it made everyone chuckle.

  “What’s the hold up, lad?”

  “It’s the Mackay lassie.”

  “What is wrong with her, then?”

  In unison, the crowd strained to listen.

  “She’s too short by half!”

  Sophie exchanged relieved smiles with the woman clutching her left hand.

  Even from a distance, she saw Bram’s shoulders relax. “Well, there’s nothing for it,” he said. “Ye’ll have to get down on yer hands and knees so she can stand on yer back. What say ye?”

  “Oh, I’m willin’.”

  “But is the lassie willin’?”

  “Nay,” said a tiny voice, clearly a girl.

  “What’s yer name, sweeting?”

  “Mary.”

  “And why aren’t ye willin’ to stand on Ranald’s back, so I can take ye out of there?”

  There was the briefest pause. “I doona like ponies.”

  Through all the laughter and choking back tears, it was hard to hear what happened next. But the little girl appeared in the window reaching out two trusting arms.

  Another heart won over by the Highlander.

  Bram pulled her carefully away from the opening and when her legs swung free from the window, he caught her against him. The ladder swayed forward and back, and forward again before Sophie could breathe again. He had to speak soothingly for a minute before the little mite could let go of his shirt, but she finally did. Then he lowered her to the next set of waiting arms.

  One more. Just one more.

  “Come, Ranald. Ye’ve seen all yer friends to safety. Now it is time ye quit this tower, aye?”

  “Wait! Mary forgot her doll.” Bram gasped, as did they all, when they heard little feet running across the high floor. A rock fell straight to the ground and shattered when it hit the pile.

  Bram reached for the window and the ladder swayed again. Only this time, those trying to compensate for the shift over-corrected and he swung away from the window. Everyone on the ground panicked. The women on the ladder didn’t have that luxury, and after a few adjustments all around, the top swayed back to the wall. Unfortunately, the side of Bram’s body slammed against it. But he quickly grabbed the window ledge with one hand and held on.

  “Ranald,” he shouted. “Come now! Climb onto me, lad, and quickly.”

  An entire section of rock slid out of place like so much mud, from a part of the wall that had been shored up. The sound and what that sound meant made Sophie’s heart feel like it was yet another stone hurtling toward the ground.

  A rock wobbled and fell from above, and Bram ducked just in time to avoid his head being crushed. It struck a woman on the back, but she held tight. It bounced off her and
hit the tower.

  Back at the window, the ladder strained and threatened to take Bram away with it again. Another stone tumbled from the top. The whole thing was going to come down!

  Time slowed to a crawl. Bram’s head turned as he searched the crowd below, then his gaze found hers. For a split second, they had that connection back. But this time, there was a message.

  “No!” She shook her head and ran toward the ladders. If she had to climb them herself, she’d do it, and drag him back down with her.

  She glanced at the ground just once, to watch her footing, but when she looked up, she was too late. She barely caught sight of his boots as Bram lunged through the window.

  He never hit the floor. By the time he might have reached it, it was gone, falling out from under him and headed for the ground.

  Someone yanked her to the side. When she fought them, they dragged her backward, away from the chaos of stone slamming against stone, the angry crash of gravity and destruction.

  And somewhere inside it all, Bram and Ranald, and Mary’s forgotten doll.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sophie fought for a long time. She was sure that if they would just let her look on the other side of the remaining wall, she’d find Bram sitting there with a child on his lap, saved from the fall by his own clever plan. Of course he would have had a plan. He was trying to tell her about it when he looked down at her, just before he went into action.

  She just had to find him. If he was hurt, she could help. If they would just let go of her!

  She slowly became aware of how exhausted she was, and she couldn’t lift her arms to fight them anymore. So she stared at the edge of the wall and waited for Bram to come to her. Somehow, she knew that he knew she was waiting. And if he didn’t hurry up, she was going to kick his butt all the way around the castle.

  “Come on, Bram. Come on. Stop playing around.”

  Then she had a thought that helped her stop worrying.

  None of this is real. It’s just a play. These are just props. And now that the grand finale was over, the cast could go home and clean up.

  Come on, Bram. They’re all waiting on you.

  In a kind of haze that wasn’t all due to dust, she watched the denouement—the last gasp of the play after the action is over. A stampede of horses was followed by the reappearance of the men. Very dramatic, but they missed their cue by a long shot.

  They looked around in shock, then gathered around those who were willing to explain what had happened. Most of the women stood with arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, staring at nothing, incapable of putting thoughts together, let alone the words to satisfy the questions.

  Sophie looked up when she heard Bram’s name. A woman pointed to her and a handful of men turned her way.

  Wait for Bram, she would tell them. They could get the whole story from him.

  Yep. Any minute, he was going to walk around that wall and admit that dying would have been a shitty thing to do when they only had half a day left together.

  And there were all those other centuries he still needed to visit with his friend, Wickham.

  Wickham, the time traveler. Wickham, the magic…

  She tipped her head back and howled the man’s name. Over and over again. Like Beetlejuice, right? Three was the magic number. Dorothy had to click her heels three times and you had to say Beetlejuice three times. That was good enough for her.

  “Sophie!” A young girl stood next to her, shaking her shoulder.

  She was pretty sure no one in Inverbrae was supposed to call her by her first name. Peg didn’t even do that. But okay.

  “Sophie, ye have to pull yerself together. Ye have to explain to these people that Bram isn’t dead!”

  She grinned at the woman still holding her prisoner against the side of a hut with an arm across her chest. “You see? I told you. Even she says he’s not dead.”

  But the woman didn’t seem to notice the girl, and she wasn’t convinced to take her arm away.

  “Sophie. Look at me.”

  The girl was dressed a lot sharper than the rest of the villagers. Her robe was black and had bling around the cuffs. And though Inverbrae was probably the only place Sophie would ever see people dressed in robes, this one didn’t quite fit in.

  “Sophie. Focus. My name is Soncerae. I’m Wickham’s niece. And I meant it when I said that Bram cannot die. Until tomorrow, he’s immortal.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Then where is he?”

  “That’s just it. He’s under those stones. And alive. You can’t let these people just leave him there, can you? Even if you don’t love him, you can’t just leave him under there!”

  “Who said I don’t love him?”

  The girl shrugged. “He thinks you don’t. And he’s under all those rocks. You have to do something. You’re the Lady of Inverbrae. Make them do your bidding. Save him, Sophie. Save Bram.”

  Sophie blinked away her tears so she could see the girl clearly, but she was gone. Two footprints remained, and they were filling with rain. Not tears. Rain.

  She turned back to look at the Shield Maiden who had probably saved her life.

  “I’m okay now. You can let me go.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe her. Then Sophie remembered what the phantom had said.

  “I’m Lady Ogilvy and you will release me. Now.”

  That did it. The woman even helped her to her feet. She stood and stretched carefully, painfully aware that she’d used up all her strength. And as Godfrey Torvaldson made his way toward her, she straightened her skirt and folded her hands together.

  “Beneath this rubble lay the body of my husband and a little boy. No man is to rest until they are recovered. Is that clear?”

  The big blond was appropriately humble as he nodded. He probably realized that he had some hand in the way the city had fallen into disrepair. And she wasn’t above using his guilt against him.

  Not if it meant Bram could be spared even a minute of pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Determined to get back to the rubble pile without being stopped, Sophie avoided eye contact as she skirted around the crowd. She nearly collided with a man carrying a heavy load of fresh torches to the site, even though it was only late afternoon. She said a quick prayer that they wouldn’t need them.

  Two or three more hours, under that weight… Immortal or not, it would be the worst kind of torture. Poor little Ranald hadn’t stood a chance.

  Bodies moved out of her way and she had her first look at the final result of a tall building falling to pieces. Every part of her stopped. Her breathing, her brain, her heart.

  The pile was over twice as high as it had been in the beginning, with nothing but a ten-foot-high portion of wall standing on the other side. A stone tower placed in a bag, shaken to pieces, then poured out on the ground. And somewhere inside that mountain was Bram and the boy.

  Even with hundreds of men, they’ll never find him by morning. “And tomorrow will be too late.”

  “Tomorrow, mum?” Peg stood at her elbow and tossed a cloak over her shoulders. “Dinna be fashin’ about tomorrow just now. Come, let Harris and I take ye home. They’ll send word—”

  “I’m not leaving. I’ve got to help. We’ve all got to help.” She finally looked away from the hill of rocks to make sure Peg understood, and she found her maid exchanging a worried look with the woman who’d held her back. “There is nothing wrong with me.”

  Godfrey was passing and stopped when he noticed her. He looked at Peg, then frowned. “What is it?” He moved closer and took Sophie’s hand in his. “Are ye unwell?”

  She was desperate to make someone understand, and she hoped it was him. After all, he had the power to make everyone move faster.

  She clutched his shirt and pulled him close. “Listen to me. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. This wasn’t your fault. But I need to tell you something.” She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Bram is immortal. He isn’t
dead.” She looked at his face to see how he was handling the idea. He was frowning, but at least he still listened. “But he’s only immortal until tomorrow. So you see, we have to find him fast. He’s under there, being crushed!”

  “Tomorrow, ye say?”

  Something clicked for him. She could tell. “Yes. We have to find him fast. Will you help me?”

  Godfrey nodded. He wasn’t completely convinced, but he was willing to play along. That was all she could hope for, really.

  He told Harris to find her a safe place to observe.

  “But I can help!”

  “Nay, my lady. Ye’ll only be in the way. And none of us has time to worry over ye.”

  Time. It was all about time. So she nodded and stepped back.

  ~ ~ ~

  The rain that had started pulled back again, and just in time. The stones would have become difficult to handle, dangerous even, if the storm had continued. The vibrant colors of the sunset in the west chased the dark clouds in the opposite direction and stretched the daylight hours a little further.

  From the second story window of a kind woman’s house, she was able to watch the work with an uninterrupted view. It was close enough to the action that she could be back to the rubble pile in less than a minute if she saw any sign that they’d found Bram.

  Three lines of men led away from the pile, and after they were organized, they started pulling the stones away, moving them from one man to the next, creating three smaller piles at the far end of the lot. It was just like the work the women had been doing, but the stones moved smoothly and quickly along, and the three new mountains grew quickly.

  Her mind automatically tried to analyze the production, but ground to a halt as if that part of her brain had been closed for the summer. It was just too much work to get the machinery back in working order. So she forced herself to wait and see.

  “They willnae be verra deep,” Peg said from behind her.

  “That’s right!” She thanked the woman with a smile. “Shouldn’t take long, then.”