Yesterday's Promise

by Michele Paige Holmes

  I sprinkled a tiny ration of oats across the top of the water, then readied the spear. Here, little fishies. Long minutes passed, but I held my pose, ignoring the ache in my back. Only my eyes moved, darting back and forth until at last they caught sight of a shadow in the water, a shape moving toward me slowly. Ever so slowly.

  Patience. Closer now. Here. Here... now! I struck and felt the difference at once, as the spear pierced the fish instead of the bottom of the lake.

  “Collin! I did it. I caught one. Look!” With loud, splashing steps I slogged up to the shore, heedless of the fact that I’d intended to let him sleep while I caught and prepared our breakfast— all before dawn.

  He sat up quickly. Too quickly— he’d been feigning sleep this entire time. I was too excited over my catch to mind.

  “Let’s see,” he said with an eager smile.

  I held the spear tip with the dead fish near his face. “I think it’s big enough to feed both of us. Maybe I’ll go catch another one anyway. It wasn’t that hard after all. It’s just knowing the right time and angle at which to strike.” I couldn’t remember ever feeling so pleased with myself.

  Collin’s mouth turned down as he examined the fish. After a few seconds he looked up at me. “It’s dead, Katie.”

  “I know. I killed it.” Who would have believed, a few weeks ago, how thrilled I’d be with such an accomplishment? Anna would be positively horrified. The thought provided a sort of gleeful satisfaction.

  “Actually...” Collin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think it was alive when you speared it. This fish looks like it’s been dead for some time.”

  “What do you mean?” It looked just like all the others he’d caught, didn’t it?

  “Rainbow trout have color,” Collin said. “This one looks like a ghost. It’s rotting already.”

  “Maybe it’s a different species.”

  “One that doesn’t bend?” Collin poked at the stiff, unmoving fish. “This one’s been dead at least a day, Katie.”

  I hadn’t done anything worthwhile. I couldn’t even catch a stupid fish. We were doomed. With a grunt of frustration I turned from him and threw the entire thing— fish and spear— back into the loch. “Fine. We’ll have oats for breakfast. Again. I’m tired of fish anyway.”

  Collin came up beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. “Don’t touch me. None of your mind-soothing tricks. I’m angry and I’ve every right to be.”

  “Who are you angry at?” Collin asked. “The fish?”

  “Yes. For dying before I could kill it.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m upset with myself. If I can’t accomplish something simple like catching our breakfast, how I am supposed to deal with Brann?”

  “Ah—” Instead of leaving me alone as I’d requested, Collin turned me to him.

  I crossed my arms in front and stared at the ground, refusing to give in to his offer of comfort, though I wanted to. “I can’t run to you every time I need something or there’s some kind of trouble. I’m not five anymore.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Collin’s voice held a hint of amusement.

  “Have you?” It seemed doubtful, the way he spoke to me sometimes and how he avoided any intimacy between us. I raised my head to glare at him and saw that he was fighting back laughter.

  “Go ahead.” I raised my hands, giving him permission to enjoy a good laugh at my expense. “There certainly won’t be anything amusing about tomorrow, when we arrive on Campbell land with absolutely no idea what to do next.”

  “You’re right. That won’t be amusing.” Instead of sobering him, this only seemed to add to his mirth. Collin spluttered a time or two, noises escaping out the sides of his mouth. He brought a hand up, coughing into it.

  “Maybe you did kill that fish. Maybe the sight of your spear frightened it death.” Full-blown laughter erupted then, great choking gasps of amusement.

  I watched, nonplussed that the dead fish incident, of all things, had wrought such a change in my husband. It’s been building for years, I reasoned, thinking of how very little cause Collin had had for any sort of happiness in his past. Maybe this is what happened to a person who’d been only serious his entire life.

  “At least I’m good at making you smile and laugh. I suppose that’s something.”

  “It’s more than something.” He pulled me close in a hug. “I much prefer it over you bringing me a fish in the morning— even if it had been fresh caught.”

  “That’s good,” I mumbled into his chest. “If our survival were up to me, we’d starve.”

  “No worries over that. Fetch your spear, and we’ll catch something together. I’ll be back in a minute.” Collin released me and turned toward the surrounding forest, whistling as he went. A minute later he’d disappeared into the trees, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the speared, rotting fish still floating on the surface not far from shore.

  I looked at the water with disdain, my earlier enthusiasm gone and with it my willingness to submit my feet and legs to the cold— even for a minute or two. But Collin had asked it of me, so I would. For him. I was coming to feel that I would do a lot for him, anything perhaps. There was something about Collin, about us. Together. Even the short distance separating us at the moment created a void. I felt a pull toward him, an inexplicable and constant yearning to be with my husband of two weeks. How did I survive all these years without him? He was my first thought in the morning and my last at night. I wanted nothing so much as to be at his side always.

  Had Collin felt that way, too, all these years of our separation? Did Anna feel the same about her husband? Recalling all the fuss about her trousseau and decorating her fiancé’s town home, and planning her wedding and wedding trip in the weeks before she married, I somehow doubted that her feelings ran as deeply as mine. For the first time I felt sorry for her.

  Collin and I had only each other. Nearly everything else had been stripped away, leaving only our relationship— each other to rely upon and navigate toward. There was something raw and beautiful in that.

  Two steps toward the loch the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up. Fear sped along my spine, sending tingles of warning to every nerve ending. I felt the same as I had that evening at the river and whirled around, half expecting to see Ian or Brann. Instead I saw only our meager camp— the lone blanket, my discarded shoes, Collin’s sporran, knife, and pistol.

  Where moments before there had been the sound of birdsong and Collin whistling, there was now only silence. Whatever or whoever it was that was coming was nearby, but not yet close enough for me to hear.

  Collin. He was out there in the trees, between me and the unseen danger. It was right there, at the edge of my vision, but I hadn’t the skills or time to reel the image in closer where I might see more clearly.

  Don’t you dare faint. I fought the pounding in my head as I grabbed my shoes. I had the sudden thought that Collin’s pistol and knife should not be left out in the open, so I snatched those up, too, then stole toward the loch, uncertain in my movements while equally certain that some unseen force guided me.

  Get in the water. Alistair’s somewhat lengthy and tiresome explanation of how he tracked people and had been able to find Malcom and me came to mind.

  Water would hide my scent. The dogs wouldn’t be able to find me. Dogs? In my mind I saw two brutish animals, racing ahead of three men on horseback. Three! My heart sank. What was I doing leaving Collin alone, unarmed to face three men?

  I can do more good this way. I prayed whatever intuition was guiding me was right. Holding both the weapons and shoes overhead I sloshed into the waist-high water. I trudged along, parallel to the shore, searching for a place where I might cross. But nowhere seemed shallow enough, and my swimming skills were poor. Being this far out was risk enough.

  With continual glances over my shoulder, I hurried forward, fearful that Collin would return to encounter those men, worried that he had already met with trouble.

  The loch
widened considerably up ahead. My chance to cross had passed. The best I could hope for was to hide somewhere on shore. I pushed on, seeing the men in my mind drawing closer to our camp. A boulder field loomed ahead, more stones fallen from a nearby mountain, some of which had landed in the loch itself. The largest ones were near the shore. I strained to reach them when sounds from the forest reached my ears. Too late. I dove behind the closest boulder, crouching low in the freezing water.

  Clutching the gun, knife and shoes to my chest, I waited and listened to the distant sounds of men arguing. Keeping my head low, I angled my body so I could hear and partially see. The dogs ran around camp in apparent agitation, and the three men on horseback clustered together as if in consultation with one another.

  A minute or two later Collin strode into camp, nodded to the men, then dumped a handful of something on the blanket. “Hamish, Rab, Gordon, good to see you again. Care to join me for breakfast?” He spoke loudly. For my benefit?

  “It’s your Campbell bride we’ve come for. Where is she?” The man dismounted and walked toward Collin.

  “Gone,” Collin said.

  “Ian said she was traveling this way with you,” one of the men still on horseback accused.

  “I’m surprised at you, Hamish.” Collin shook his head. “Since when did you start believing anything my brother says? Did it never occur to you that Ian might be up to something else, and sending you after me was a convenient way to be rid of you?”

  Hamish cast an uneasy glance toward the others.

  “Though as it happens, she was traveling with me,” Collin said.

  What? What was he doing? It seemed they might have believed him. But now...

  “I still wouldn’t trust Ian,” Collin added. He picked something up from the blanket, popped it in his mouth, and began chewing. “Blaeberries. A bit early for the first of July. Still, these aren’t too bad. Help yourself, Rab.” Collin gestured to the pile on the blanket.

  “Your wife, Collin.” Rab withdrew his dirk. “We’ve come to take her off your hands.”

  Images of Ian and Malcom flashed in my mind. Bile rose in my throat. My breath came in short, panicked spurts. I forced the memories back. Never again. To that end, Collin had been teaching me to defend myself. But how was I to defend him?

  “She’s here all right. And we’ve an old score to settle with the Campbells.” The other man slid from his horse. He knelt before the whining dogs and held a wad of fabric to their noses. “Find her, boys.” He tossed the fabric— what appeared to be a dress— to Collin. “You can bury your Campbell wife in this after we’ve killed her.”

  I shrank farther down in the water.

  Collin tossed the dress back to the man. “If that’s your plan you’d best get going to Fort William. That’s where the English patrol we met yesterday was headed.”

  The barking dogs didn’t allow me to hear any more. From my hiding place I glimpsed them occasionally as they ran around the camp, then ended up at the water’s edge each time.

  “Where is she?” Rab took a menacing step toward Collin.

  “I couldn’t say,” Collin said. “Neither was there much I could do when the English took her last night. There were a half dozen of them and only one of me. They didn’t believe for a minute that an Englishwoman was my wife— and she did precious little to persuade them— so they took her.”

  “A patrol on Murray land?” Hamish looked around as if expecting to see them appear while the man called Gordon beckoned the dogs back.

  “The English go where they like, take what they like. You ken that as well as I.” Collin knelt and began scooping berries into his sporran.

  “What else have you got in there?” Rab demanded. “Let me see it.”

  Collin handed the pouch to Rab without argument.

  Rab dug through it quickly. “Not even a dirk to your name? No wonder you’re eating berries.” He and the others laughed.

  “English took that, too,” Collin muttered as Rab returned the satchel. “It was only my wife’s last minute pleading that allowed me to go on my way unhindered, without being taken in for possessing a weapon.” He picked up our shared blanket and began folding it.

  “Sounds like she was eager to be parted from you,” Hamish noted.

  “Aye,” Collin said. “We were not well suited. Didn’t expect that we would be, but I had planned to collect the purse that was her dowry. Now I’ve to go home with nothing to show for my efforts.” He shook his head, and I imagined the dour expression upon his face. “Two weeks wasted. Never met a woman who traveled slower or who was more exasperating to travel with.”

  “It’s been a poor lot of luck for the MacDonalds,” Rab agreed. “Cannot say I feel sorry for you exactly, taking up with Campbells as you did all those years.”

  “I’d no choice in the matter,” Collin said. “Nor did I this time, needing that money as we do. I’m not sure what we’ll do without it now. The land’s been so poor for planting, and I’ve not enough men to work it.” He placed the blanket on Ian’s horse and mounted.

  “You’re headed home then?” Rab asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Aye.” Collin reined Ian’s horse in the opposite direction from me. “Many days I’d be more than happy to turn the whole clan over to Ian, but my conscience will not let me do that. He’s liable to do something foolish, as you well know.” He let the suggestion hang in the air a moment. “Good day to you, gentlemen.” With a nod Collin started off, leaving the others to linger at our camp.

  Numb with shock and cold, and uncertain whether or not his charade had worked, I watched as Collin rode away, disappearing into the forest, leaving me truly alone.

  “Grandfather?” Katie’s hands dropped from her neck to hang limply at her side as she watched his progress down the length of the table toward us. Her eyes, even larger than usual, stared up at him, a flicker of worry within.

  He wasn’t looking at her, nor did he even acknowledge her presence. His attention was all for me— on me. I forced myself to finish chewing the bit of bread in my mouth, then lifted my cup and swallowed the last of my water. It did little to soothe my throat swollen with fear.

  A few paces from me Laird Campbell stopped. His stance was summons enough, and I pushed back my chair and stood, then turned to face him.

  He snapped the belt loudly, silencing any last whispers in the hall. “A promise given is a promise to be kept.”

  It sounded like something Father would have said. It was what he would have expected of me— even though it was to the enemy that I’d pledged my troth.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Long minutes passed while I stayed crouched behind the boulders in the loch, shivering with cold, my heart and mind frozen with fear. My fingers clenched around the gun and the knife handle. I strained to listen, hearing snatches of conversation among the men. It seemed they believed Collin’s story but were in no hurry to leave.

  What would happen if they stayed all day and into the night? I’d freeze if I remained in the water much longer. Yet I dared not move.

  After a while there was no more conversation, but I heard the dogs still; then I realized they were getting closer. They’re searching for me. I pressed my elbows in tight and tried to shrink even more. They’ll find me. Walking along the shore, it wouldn’t take them long at all to spot my hiding place. Panic kept me bound. I couldn’t move. My choices were to be seen or to go deeper into the water. Drown or be shot— or worse. The memory of Malcom and the cave made my decision. I would rather drown.

  Pressing my lips together, I slid my feet along the floor of the loch, edging around the stone that hid me. Only two steps, and the bottom fell away. I hadn’t a free hand to grasp at the rock and only just managed to keep Collin’s gun above the surface. Water lapped below my chin. I ducked lower, worried my light hair might be visible from shore. My jaw clenched to keep my teeth from chattering.

  “The MacDonald’s not turning back,” one of the Murrays called. “Followed him as
far as the cut off, and he’s headed home.”

  “Maybe he was telling the truth,” another who sounded very close said. “Dogs can’t find her.”

  “What if he was telling the truth about his brother? Ian could be at the keep, and we’re not there to stop him taking what he wants.”

  A bark sounded just in front of me. I jumped, banging the pistol against the rock.

  “What was that?” one of the Murrays asked.

  I held my breath. Water rippled around me, disturbed from my sudden movement.

  The bark came again, followed by splashing then the sounds of a tongue greedily lapping.

  From the corner of my eye I spotted one of the dogs, little more than an arm’s distance away, standing in the loch, drinking water. If he looks up. I sank into the water, leaving only my hand with the gun hovering on the surface.

  “It’s just the dogs,” one of the men yelled. “Come on. Let’s go. Ian MacDonald is of more concern than a Campbell wench.”

  Their grumbled conversation continued on, growing more distant.

  I raised up out of the water allowing my forehead to rest against the rock while I took in great breaths of air. I scooted around the rock, cold, but alive, and I could touch the bottom here. I would wait, all day if necessary, to come out of hiding.

  Minutes passed. Hoofbeats sounded. They’re leaving. Tears of relief streamed from my eyes. Still, I stayed put, waiting until I could stand the cold no longer or until I felt some reassurance that it was safe to reveal myself.

  What if they came back? What if Collin never did? My thoughts tormented me. No longer did I wish for home. I merely wanted Collin to return.

  I’d proven numerous times already that I was incapable of taking care of myself. How was I to eat? To protect myself? To ever get out of this forsaken forest? What would Collin do?