Secrets of the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  He was holding his son!

  Forest Dreamwalker sat beside Jack and shook his head. “Even this young, they know what they want. Give him your little finger to suckle.”

  Jack did, eyeing his great-grandfather suspiciously. “When did you learn what babies want? You had one son, and I doubt you spent much time with him until he was five or six.”

  “Ah, but I spent a great deal of time with Sarah from the moment she was born. Your mother was always wanting to be walked, and my son had no patience for pacing in circles to soothe her. That precious chore was mine.”

  Jack knew his family history by rote, since he’d spent five years alone in the woods with Forest Dreamwalker. Forest’s son had found himself the sole parent of a three-month-old daughter when his wife had suddenly decided to move to Vancouver—with no husband or baby to cramp her new lifestyle. Sarah had been raised by her father and grandfather, and to this day Jack wondered how the two men had managed to keep a baby alive, much less raise her to become such an amazing woman.

  “Listen up, Coyote,” Forest said. “This puzzle you’re grappling with is even more dangerous than you think.”

  “Which one?” Jack asked, looking down at his son.

  “Aye, you’re right. There are two distinct problems, with two very real dangers. You must tread carefully, Coyote, if you wish to keep your family safe.”

  “Aye?” Jack repeated, looking at Forest in surprise.

  The old shaman smiled proudly. “I’ve added a new word to my vocabulary in honor of your son’s Scottish heritage. The child has grown used to Laird MacKeage’s voice, and responds favorably when I also say aye to him.”

  Good Lord, his kid was going to have some interesting dreams, with shamans and Highland warriors for ancestors. “He’s my son,” Jack said. “And I’m going to teach him to solve his problems with cunning, not might.”

  Forest gave a pained sigh. “Thank the moon Greylen will be around to teach him the ways of a warrior.” He glared at Jack. “Are you going to listen to what I have to say or not?”

  “I’m listening,” Jack said, though he dropped his gaze again, rubbing his thumb over his son’s soft cheek.

  “Your woman has something Mark Collins wants.”

  “What is it?” Jack asked, looking up.

  “I’m not all-knowing. But I can tell you it’s something Megan isn’t even aware of.”

  “Do you at least know what Collins is up to? What sort of business he was conducting out on the tundra?”

  “It has to do with energy,” Forest said. “Oil or some other sort of fuel.”

  Jack canted his head in thought. “Maybe she brought back samples or data that would prove there’s shale oil under that part of Canada. Collins might be trying to hide that fact from the government, and that’s why that man was killed.”

  “Maybe. But Collins is the least of your worries right now. You need to keep a close eye on that Kenzie Gregor fellow.”

  Jack looked up sharply. “So he is interested in Megan.”

  “No,” Forest said with a shake of his head. “It’s not her heart he’s wanting.”

  “Then what?”

  “Her knowledge. But that’s not what you should be worried about. It’s Gregor’s connection to your break-ins that you must pay careful attention to.”

  “So what’s the connection?”

  Forest leaned closer. “Magic,” he whispered. “Ancient Celtic magic, Coyote. A very powerful kind.”

  Jack gaped at his great-grandfather. “There’s more than one kind of magic?”

  The old shaman nodded. “The drùidhs have been charged with protecting the trees of life, whereas people and animals are my thing. My duty is to a person’s more immediate well-being, so I was given the gift of helping individuals deal with daily life.”

  “Is Kenzie Gregor a drùidh?”

  “No, but his brother Matt is. And Megan’s sister Winter also possesses the power.”

  Jack leaned back, splaying his hand over his son in a protective gesture. “Winter’s a drùidh? And Megan knows this?”

  Forest nodded. “But you can’t let her know that you know. That’s something Megan must tell you herself.” He smiled. “When she does, you’ll know she finally trusts you and has completely forgiven you for what you said to her four months ago.”

  “I acted on your advice,” Jack snapped.

  Forest looked affronted. “I told you to send her away. The way you did that was your poor choice.”

  “It was the only thing that would make her leave. I sure as hell didn’t mean it.”

  “I know that, and you know that, but does Megan? What you said, Coyote, is not something a woman easily gets past—no matter how much apologizing you do.” Forest reached out to take the child.

  Jack leaned away. “Wait. What about this magic business? How do I deal with Kenzie if his brother’s a wizard?”

  “By staying well away from Matt and Winter Gregor. Catching their interest could prove dangerous. Instead, you need to…” Forest dropped his gaze to his lap as his mind turned inward in thought.

  Jack knew this could take awhile, so he gave his attention back to his son. He leaned forward to cradle the boy in his hands and lifted him up to kiss his tiny forehead. “Don’t you frown at me,” he said with a laugh. “It seems like I’ve been waiting forever to meet you.”

  The little bundle of joy he was holding stared up at Jack, the wisdom of the universe shining in his deep, dark, bottomless eyes. “Should we tell your mama she’s having a son?” Jack asked. “Or keep this our little secret for a while?”

  “You can’t tell her,” Forest suddenly interjected. “How would you explain how you know?”

  “The same way I explain everything you tell me—that it’s my gut instinct.” He grinned down at his son. “It’s worked for me for thirty-four years. I’ll teach you how to rely on your own gut, baby boy.” He looked up at Forest. “So, how do I deal with Kenzie Gregor?”

  The old shaman squared his shoulders. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do. You must find your own path, Coyote. That’s what life is all about.”

  Jack gave a soft snort. “That never stopped you in the past. At least give me a hint.”

  Forest remained silent, true to his stoic Cree heritage—which he used only when it worked in his favor.

  “Can you at least tell me what ran out of that store the other night and flew away?” Jack asked. “Was it man or beast?”

  “It was both.”

  “Both.”

  “Aye, though I’d say it was more magical than real.”

  “What do you mean? Are you saying a figment of everyone’s collective imagination is breaking into those buildings?”

  “You’ll solve that mystery when you discover Kenzie Gregor’s secret,” Forest told him, raising his voice to be heard when the baby began to cry.

  Jack laid his son back on his lap and quickly swaddled him in his blanket. The infant grew even more unhappy, and his crying got louder. Jack stuck his little finger in its mouth, but apparently his son wanted to exercise his lungs and muscles, because he kicked off his blankets and cried even louder. Jack held him up to his chest again, but that didn’t help, either.

  “What have you done to my great-grandson?” Shadow Dreamwalker demanded as he appeared out of the ether.

  Jack smiled up at his grandfather. “Grand-père pinched him.” His grin widened when Mark and Walker Stone also appeared. “Hi, guys. How was the fishing?”

  “Give me the child,” Sarah Stone said, also appearing from the swirling light surrounding Jack’s dream. “Grand-père, how could you?”

  “I didn’t pinch him! He just started in for no reason.”

  The moment Jack’s mother cradled the baby to her bosom, the boy snuggled down with a contented sigh.

  Jack looked around in awe. Five generations of Dreamwalkers were present, and his father and brother. How amazing was that?

  Shadow Dreamwalker had died before
Jack was born, but Jack had gotten to know his grandfather quite well in his dreams. One big happy family; except that they were all over there, and he was over here—alone.

  He smiled at his eleven-year-old brother, Walker. It had taken Jack quite a few years to come to terms with feeling responsible for killing his family. It had been Walker who had persuaded him that all siblings engaged in petty fighting, and that their father’s stopping the car and making Jack sit under a tree in a time-out…Well, no one could have seen the accident coming. Fate, Walker had repeatedly assured Jack, did not lie in the hands of a nine-year-old boy.

  Still, it was going to take more than a few imaginary conversations with his very dead brother to convince Jack that pacifism wasn’t the better path.

  “It’s time to go,” Sarah said, gently rocking her grandson. “Megan is on her way back.” She smiled down at Jack. “I hope you saved her some lunch.”

  “When will I see you all again?”

  “When you need to.” Mark Stone leaned down and kissed Jack on the cheek. “You’ve found yourself a wonderful woman, son. Do whatever you must to keep her, even if it means getting beaten up a few more times.”

  Forest harrumphed and stood up. “Megan MacKeage is leading you on a merry chase, and you’re letting her.”

  “She earned that right, wouldn’t you say?” Jack countered. He lay back down on his jacket, laced his hands together behind his head, and gave his father a nod. “I’ll find a way to keep her.” He looked at his mother and winked. “Take good care of my son. You’ll have him to yourselves only for three and a half more months. Then he’s all mine.” He looked at his great-grandfather. “And he’s going to travel a peaceful path if I have to drag him down it myself.”

  Forest Dreamwalker swirled his robe around himself with his usual dramatic flair, and vanished into thin air. Everyone else, with waves and cheerful good-byes, slowly turned and walked into the shimmering ether.

  Smiling with deep happiness, Jack decided to continue sleeping, hoping to extend the memory of his son’s downy-soft skin pressed against his own.

  Huffing and puffing with each step, Megan wondered how she’d gotten so out of shape. She was known for snowshoeing the full ten miles up and down TarStone Mountain in less than six hours, but today two miles in three hours was pretty much doing her in. The twenty-four pounds she’d gained in the last five months was obviously the culprit.

  She was suddenly glad Jack had tagged along today; she was cold and tired and so hungry she could eat a horse, and the thought of returning to a cozy camp with a roaring fire and hot food was the only thing keeping her going. Though she knew she’d better not get used to it, that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of Jack’s attentiveness for the time being.

  She finally trudged into camp, only to find Jack asleep, the fire out, and the basket of food nearly empty. She bent over and scooped up a handful of snow.

  “You throw that, you’d best be prepared for the consequences.”

  “You ate all the food!”

  “I saved you some,” he said, sitting up with a yawn.

  “And you let the fire go out.”

  “If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” he offered, patting a spot beside him.

  “In your dreams.”

  “You might enjoy my dreams,” he said with a chuckle, leaning forward to lace up his boots. “Did you find the deer yard?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure this is the right area?” he asked, looking around. “There aren’t any cedar groves here.”

  Megan plopped down on the snow and started unlacing her snowshoes. “There’s a large stand of it on the back side of the ridge, but the deer stripped it clean as high as they could reach several years ago. They must have found another yard.”

  Jack pushed her hands away and finished taking off her snowshoes for her. He then unlaced her boots and took them off, then stood, scooped her up in his arms and plopped her down on his snowmobile suit. Before she could even yelp in surprise, he was already sitting down and putting on her snowshoes. “There’s a couple of sandwiches left, some crackers, and a full Thermos of hot cocoa,” he told her. “Why don’t you eat and then have a little nap?” He scanned the sky, then looked back at her. “We’ve got a few hours of daylight left. You mind snowmobiling after dark?”

  “Why, where are you going?”

  “To find your deer yard. You’re in no condition to drive without having a nap.”

  Knowing he was right—though loath to admit it—Megan settled down on his jacket and rubbed her belly. “I don’t know what got into the baby a little while ago, but it started kicking something fierce. I actually had to stop and sit down on a log. But just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.”

  Jack stilled, a funny expression on his face. “Just a short while ago?”

  “Yeah. I swear the kid was doing somersaults.”

  Jack crawled over and placed his hand on her belly, his eyes meeting hers. “Maybe he’s going to run away and join the circus when he’s ten.”

  “Or she might become a ballerina,” she said, feeling disconcerted to have his hand on her belly.

  “Will you mind much if we have a boy?”

  “I won’t mind if we have a puppy as long as it’s healthy.”

  That made him smile. Megan felt her insides flop—and it wasn’t the baby doing gymnastics this time.

  “Then I vote we have a boy. Would you consider naming him Walker, after my brother?”

  “You have a brother?”

  Jack gave her belly an affectionate pat, then started stirring the fire, putting on twigs and coaxing it back to life. “I used to.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “It’s a long story, best left for another time.” He stood up. “Look, if you really are that hungry, I can bring back a rabbit.”

  Megan stared up at him. Who did he think he was, Nanook of the North? “I’m not loaning you my gun.”

  “I don’t need a gun,” he said with a shrug. “Eat your sandwiches, Megan, and drink a whole bottle of water. I’ll be back in less than three hours, I promise. There’s enough firewood to last until then.” He grabbed the blanket beside the pack basket and tossed it to her. “It’ll get chilly as the sun drops. Keep this close.”

  “You need your jacket,” she said as he started to leave.

  “I’ve got enough layers on. Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he called back with a wave, tromping around a thick stand of alders.

  Megan blinked at the spot where he’d disappeared, then dropped her gaze to the food basket. For a man trying to win her back her affections, Jack Stone didn’t have any more of a clue how to go about it than Wayne Ferris had had. He expected her to survive all day on a box of crackers and two sandwiches? She’d packed five!

  Megan stuffed her feet in her boots, tromped over to Jack’s sled, and unzipped his tank bag. She pulled out a map, a handheld Global Positioning System receiver, and a mangled candy bar. She pocketed the candy bar and put the other stuff back, then unzipped the right saddlebag.

  Four long-neck brown bottles peered up at her, two of them missing their caps and obviously empty. She pulled out a full bottle, and snorted. “Beer. Had yourself quite a little feast, didn’t you?” she muttered, shoving it back in the bag. Something crunched in the bottom.

  She reached down beside the bottles and pulled out an unopened bag of curly cheese puffs. “You bring beer and junk snacks, yet eat all the healthy food. I’m the one growing a baby here.” She turned and tossed the cheese curls toward the bed, then looked back in the saddlebag. Stuffed between the bottles to keep them from breaking were a pair of socks, a thick wool hat, and spare mittens.

  Megan moved on to the left saddlebag and found it contained a sturdy rope, a small ax, and two thin Mylar space blankets. She also found three more candy bars—which she pocketed—and a flattened roll of duct tape.

  She walked back and fed the fire some twigs, then sat down on Jack’s leather suit. T
he gravy was a lost cause, since lichen and moss had fallen into the open pot, so she ate both sandwiches, the crackers, and all four candy bars, then ripped open the cheese curls. She scoffed down half the bag before she decided she was more tired than hungry. With a sigh of contentment, she finally settled back on the bed Jack had made.

  It was surprisingly comfortable. She rolled over and lifted the jacket sleeve, and saw that he’d arranged more than a foot of fir boughs on the ground, which kept her off the cold snow, just as her father had taught her. Apparently Jack had been listening when his great-grandfather had passed down his survival skills.

  Which probably explained why he didn’t know squat about courting a woman. Being raised by an old man in the middle of the wilderness wasn’t exactly conducive to learning about the opposite sex. Still, Jack must have learned something once he’d gotten out in the real world. He’d been in the military, for crying out loud. Megan laced her hands together over her belly with a snort. That’s probably where he’d acquired his sex education.

  Although, once he’d gotten over her surprise attack, he’d certainly…performed well enough. Oh, okay. He’d done better than merely perform. He’d actually taken her beyond the stars and back, she remembered with a shiver.

  And then he’d done it all over again. And again.

  “Don’t go there, Meg,” she growled, snapping her eyes shut. Only that merely made the memory stronger, to the point that she could practically feel his intimate touch.

  “Damn,” she muttered, rolling onto her side, grabbing the blanket, and balling it up against her belly and chest. “Think of something else,” she commanded herself. “Think about your baby.”

  Megan fell asleep a few minutes later and did dream about her child—of a little boy doing somersaults in the air as he flew from one trapeze to another.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack walked into camp three hours later to find Megan curled up on his suit. He also found four empty candy wrappers and half a bag of cheese curls on the ground beside her—which explained the orange powder all over her face.