Her mind began to race with thoughts that mayhap the Buchannans had found them and now held all of her boys as captives. The thought sickened her. It was bad enough they had Ian. To think for a moment that the Buchannan could get his hands on her other boys was nearly more than her heart could bear.
She had to keep herself together, for all of their sakes. She had to get to her brother in Dundee. And if not him, then her other brother in Aberdeen. If she could get herself and the boys to one of them, then she could call on the rest of her brothers for help in procuring Ian’s safe return. Her brothers were her only hope at the moment.
They’d been walking for days now, heading toward Renfrew. No blankets, no food and not a supply or belonging to their names. It was all beginning to take its toll on her heart as well as her body.
She paced around their makeshift camp for a time, cursing under her breath all the while praying for her boys to return safely. She had let them go hunting only because they were growing wearing of eating roasted roots and drinking bark tea.
Too much time had passed for her liking and she simply could not bear waiting any longer. She pulled the roots from the coals, covered them with leaves and set out in search of her boys.
~~~
Ian. He had to be alive. If he weren’t, no Buchannan would be safe from Findley’s wrath.
They would gather up Maggy and the boys and head for Renfrew. Once there, he’d send a messenger back to Dunshire and beg Angus for more men. While the boys might be good rock throwers, they weren’t exactly the kind of warriors he needed at the moment.
Findley looked at the bedraggled and near starving lads before him -- covered with dirt, grungy from days without bathing and scrawny from lack of good meals. They were just children.
How many other children, he wondered, could have gone through what these lads had and still manage to maintain the determination, strength and dignity of the boys now standing before him? They reminded Findley very much of himself at that age.
“Lads,” Findley began. “We’ll worry about marryin’ yer mum off later. For now, we have to get you to Renfrew. Then we’ll send you to our keep in Dunshire. Ye’ll be safe there. We’ll get Ian back."
Robert's expression turned to stone. “Nay,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, standing firm and resolute. “We’ll no’ hide like cowards.”
Findley took a deep breath. Robert was a very stubborn young man. “Lad, we ken ye want yer brother back and that ye want to help. But ye canna go up against the Buchannans with rocks.” He meant no insult but he wasn’t about to treat the boy like a bairn.
Liam chimed in. “We coulda gone again the bloody Buchannans if we had swords.” His little face twisted into a scowl as he looked to his oldest brother.
Robert gave the lad a smile, a nod, and ran his fingers through the mop of curly dark hair. Robert’s gesture was one of a lad far older and more mature than his actual years. Findley could see great things in Robert’s future, if only he could learn to control his temper and listen to wisdom.
“I’m sure ye would have, lad,” Wee William offered. “And ye’ve done a fine job of protectin’ yer mum.” Wee William walked toward the small boy and put his hand on his shoulder.
Wee William was well known for having a soft spot the size of Scotland in his heart for bairns and children. He then turned and studied Robert for a long moment, sizing the lad up. “Ye’ll do well as a warrior.”
Robert’s chest puffed out a bit at the compliment even though he did his best to hide his pride. “So ye’ll marry our mum then?” Robert asked. He wasn’t about to let the question go unanswered. “She be a bonny woman. And right smart too.”
Wee William chuckled. “I’m sure she is, lad. But I be no’ the marryin’ kind. And Findley be right. Ye need to let yer mum decide such things. And there be other ways of protectin’ her.”
“Like what?” Robert asked with a crease forming on his brow.
“Like killin’ the sons of whores responsible.”
Robert apparently liked the idea. His lips curved upward ever so slightly and he gave a quick nod of his head in approval. “Aye. But canna we do both?”
Wee William shook his head. “Lad, listen to me well. We’re wastin’ time now. The longer we stand here makin’ plans fer yer mum’s future, the longer the Buchannan has yer brother.” Wee William let Robert think on that for a moment. “Now, would ye rather we argue over yer mum’s future or hie off and get the bloody bastards?”
Robert didn’t need to think on it very long. “Hie off and get the bloody bastards.”
Wee William reached out and grabbed the boy’s shoulder and gave it an approving squeeze. As Wee William gave the boy a favourable smile, a faint swooshing sound filled the air and a moment later something hit Wee William’s temple and sent him crashing to the ground.
~~~
In the small amount of time it took Findley and his men to get their bearings and draw swords, an inordinate amount of rocks began to fly in from behind Findley. They were being pelted with stones and whoever was doing the pelting had perfect aim.
The boys stood frozen for a brief moment before Patrick and Richard scooped up the smallest boys, grabbed the other two by their arms and headed for cover. Unfortunately they had to leave their fallen friend behind for there were far too many rocks and stones barraging them.
Findley crouched low and let out a curse as one of the stones hit him in the shoulder. Although he was unable to see the attacker, he had a sneaky suspicion who it was.
He dove into the trees behind him while his men scattered about on the other side of the clearing. He took a moment to get a bearing on where the assault was being launched. Keeping low, he noiselessly made his way through the brambles in search of the rock thrower.
She had hidden herself quite well in the thick underbrush and had amassed a good amount of stones that were piled on the ground to her right. She was able to throw two at a time, one in each hand, quite easily. She would squat down long enough to grab more stones before popping up again to throw them.
Maggy had grabbed two more stones and popped up, ready to throw more stones at the men who had her sons. She paused briefly when she realized they no longer stood stunned in the middle of the clearing but had instead taken cover. Cursing under her breath she knelt to gather the stones, hurriedly tossing them into her apron, unaware that someone lurked nearby.
Findley had stealthily made his way toward her and stood just a few short steps away as she loaded her apron. He could not speak for he was so relieved to see her, even if she was assaulting them.
From his close vantage point, he could tell she had lost weight over the past few months. She had been more curvaceous when he first met her. Now her tattered and dirty brown dress hung loosely on her shrinking frame. His heart sank with the realization that she and her boys were dwindling away from lack of food. They were starving, gaunt, and far too thin.
He would soon rectify that. Once he got them back to his keep they’d never want for food, shelter or clothing ever again. He would see to it that boys were raised up to be good Highland warriors. They would have proper educations. He would make sure they travelled the world to enjoy all the wonders it offered.
And he would wrap Maggy in the finest of fabrics. Never again would she wear torn, rough and threadbare clothing. He would dress her in the finest of silks, damasks and velvets. Emeralds, rubies and diamonds would drape from her delicate ears and beautiful, long neck. He would give her the world.
He forced his mind back to the here and now. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest as he watched her gathering more ammunition.
Maggy had taken a few steps away before Findley found his voice. “Maggy!” His voice cracked.
Startled, she let loose of her apron and all the stones spilled onto the ground before her feet. All but one. Without thinking she hurled that stone toward the voice and it skimmed along the hairline of his forehead.
A shock of white lig
ht flashed in his eyes as pain thundered in his skull and brought forth a momentary sensation of wooziness. He stumbled backwards a step or two, angry with himself for not being prepared for her response. The pain hammering in his skull hurt worse than the dirk he had taken to his side in the summer.
She did not realize until it was too late that it was Findley who had called her name. She watched him stumbled backwards and saw the blood begin to trickle down his face. A momentary sense of guilt filled her stomach before her good senses took hold. While she remembered him as the kind man who had returned her sons to her that past spring, too much had taken place in her life since. He was still a stranger and she could not risk trusting that he was still kind.
There was no time to waste learning what his intentions were. Hastily, she scooped up a few rocks and tore off through the woods. She cursed herself repeatedly for allowing the boys to go hunting without her. What she wouldn’t give to have a few dirks or even a sword instead of the blasted stones! Her only thoughts were how she could get her boys away from these men.
She had hoped to cause enough of a distraction so that the boys could flee. But that had not worked. Instead the men had grabbed her boys and now cowered in the woods. She would need a much better plan and better weapons in order to free them.
Maggy raced through the woods ignoring the pinecones and sticks that tore through her old, worn shoes. Ducking under low lying branches and limbs, she searched for a means of escape or, at the least, a place to hide.
If she could hide herself well enough it might buy her some time to come up with a new plan. Mayhap these men would give up the search for her and hie off to wherever it was they were intending to go. She could follow at a safe distance and wait for a better time for another attack in which to free her sons.
It had taken several moments before the wooziness left and the pain subsided enough for Findley to stand upright. The blood rushing in his head made it quite difficult to hear anything around him. Breathing heavily, he scanned the area surrounding him for some sign of Maggy. He realized the sweat he was wiping from his brow was in fact blood and he let loose with a curse. He needed to find her and quickly before she wreaked even more havoc on his men.
He took a few unsteady steps forward and caught a glimpse of movement a good fifty yards or more ahead and to his left. The lass had the speed of a red deer! He shook the cobwebs from his head and ran after her.
She was zigzagging through the woods at a very rapid pace. Smart girl, he thought. He imagined most women would have gone running in fear, screaming at the tops of their lungs. He thought of what Robert had said earlier, about his mum being ‘right smart.’ The lad’s description had been accurate.
Occasionally he could see the flash of her auburn hair as she ran swiftly and nearly soundlessly through the scrub and brushwood. She was running deeper into the woods, which would make it far more difficult to find her. He was growing frustrated with the game of cat and mouse. While he could understand she would be fearful, pummelling him or his men to death with stones for something the Buchannans had done was downright iniquitous!
He had run for a good distance when he realized he had lost sight of her. He stopped abruptly, his eyes cautiously looking for any sign of her. He had reached the limit of his patience.
“Maggy!” He shouted, hoping his voice would carry through the thick forest. “I mean ye no harm! We’re here to help!”
His breathing was labored and the pain in his skull was increasing at a rapid pace.
“We ken what the Buchannans did! We will no’ hurt yer lads, Maggy, I promise!” He strained his ears to listen for the sound of her voice or even the faint rustle of leaves. If she had heard him she was apparently choosing to ignore him.
Damn stubborn woman! They were wasting precious time. They needed to get to Renfrew before dark and at the pace they were going the chances of succeeding were next to nil.
“Maggy!” He decided to make another attempt at appealing to her good sense. “We wanna take ye and yer boys to Renfrew! Ye’ll be safe there lass! Then we’ll work at getting Ian back fer ya!”
He took another deep breath. “Please, Maggy,” he spoke those pleading words, had not yelled them. “Let me help.”
He stood under a large oak tree and skimmed the landscape for any sign of her whereabouts. He felt his heart sinking with each silent, unanswered moment that passed. She was undoubtedly laying low and probably planning another way of attack. He could not rightly blame her.
The wooziness had returned and he wasn’t sure if it was from the growing knot on his head or from dread and worry over Maggy. He leaned against the tree and slid down it where he rested his head in his hands. The flow of blood had slowed down a bit and was beginning to feel sticky against his hands.
His head throbbed and his stomach felt sick with worry. He was beginning to wonder if Maggy hadn’t lumped him in with the same lot of cowards and bastards as the Buchannans. The thought gnawed at him for he knew nothing could be further from the truth. But he wouldn’t be able to prove that to her if he couldn’t find her.
He sat alone, lost in his thoughts. He had to get back to his men and the boys. Mayhap the boys would have a better chance at weeding their mum out than he had. As he was getting ready to stand, he heard the most beautiful voice in the world speak his name.
“Findley.”
The relief at seeing her was indescribable. Then he caught sight of the stones she held in her hands. He dared not move for fear she’d fling the stones at him and she’d already proven she had very good aim.
“Maggy,” he managed to scratch out.
She stood some ten feet away. Close enough that should she feel the need to pelt him again she could, yet far enough away that should the need to run arise, she would have a good head start. He was afraid to move for fear she would hit him and take off running again.
“Did ye speak the truth about helping me to get Ian?” she asked him, studying him closely.
“Aye, I did.”
She was turning the stones in her hands, rubbing them with her thumbs as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him. “Why?”
If he told her he thought she had captivated his heart and taken his soul prisoner, he’d be a dead man in the blink of an eye. He would have loved nothing more than to tell her just that. He decided however, that honesty was probably not the best route to take at the moment.
“We came to bring ye supplies and an offer to foster yer sons. That’s how we came upon yer camp or what was left of it. We ken it be the Buchannans that done it.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but it would do.
Maggy eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
Findley blinked. “Why what?” The knot on his head was pounding ruthlessly and he felt as though an impenetrable fog was descending upon his thoughts.
Maggy rolled her eyes at him. “Why did you bring supplies and an offer to foster me boys?”
She continued to rub the stones with her thumbs. Maggy had learned very early in life that men never did anything without expecting something in return. What had Findley expected by bringing supplies? What was in it for him to offer to foster her sons?
“Because ye needed the help.” That much was true.
“And what do ye be expectin’ in return for your good deeds?” The crease in her brow deepened.
“Nothin’.” It was a complete lie. What he hoped for and what he expected were two entirely different matters. He hoped for a chance to win her heart as she had unknowingly won his. He wanted to pull her into his arms and begin kissing her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and he wanted a lifetime in which to accomplish it in. He expected her to kill him dead where he sat if he breathed a word of his thoughts aloud.
Maggy snorted. She had seen through his lie. “Men dunna give anythin’ without expectin’ somethin’ in return, Findley.” She had all but called him a liar, and even though she was right, it still wounded his pride.
“As much as ye might not
wanna believe me, lass, there are some good men out there who do try to do what is right and what is honourable.”
He drew his feet up and pushed himself to standing. The movement caused his head to spin and he nearly fell over. Maggy didn’t rush to offer him any help, which was probably the right course of action. For if she had, he would have scooped her up, thrown her over his shoulder and carried her back to his men and her sons. That is if he could have gotten his head to quit spinning. What he wouldn’t give for a sip of the chief’s best right now.
Instead, she took a few cautious steps backwards, never taking her eyes from him. He remained where he was, putting his hand on the trunk of the tree for balance.
“I ken ye dunna believe me and I canna blame ye fer it. But do no’ go lumpin’ me or my men in with the Buchannan scum.” He hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but the pain and his frustration were quickly taking over his good senses.
“We came to offer ye help, to take ye all back to Dunshire with us if ye’d accept such an offer. And if not, we had supplies to leave ye, to help get ye through the winter.”
That much was true. Although he would not admit to anyone that had she turned down his offer to return to Dunshire with him, it would have taken a lifetime to get over the hurt.
“Now,” he said, straightening his back and resting his hands on his hips. “We can argue it all the day long if ye wish. But we be wastin’ precious time. Me men and I are goin’ to Renfrew -- with or without ye, it does no’ matter to me.”
It was another lie, for there would be no way on this earth that he’d leave her or the boys out here alone. He would drag her kicking and screaming all the way to Renfrew if he had to.
“Once we make it to Renfrew, we’re tradin’ the wagons in fer horses and men.” He shook the fog from his head and began walking away.
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