Six #3
It was when Thomas brought up the bounty on Gordon’s head that tension openly rose between the two men.
One of the Gunn boys asked, “Is there a price on your head?”
Gordon shook his head as if ready to deny such a thing, but Thomas answered with a cheerful, “Aye, he has fifty pounds on his head, but I’ll wager that number is multiplied by hundreds once we attack the English. We’ll all have prices on our heads then.”
The crofters were impressed. Fifty pounds would be a fortune to these people.
The giant opened his mouth to brag again when Gordon stood. “Enough, Thomas,” he said. “We’ve overstayed Mr. Gunn’s hospitality.” He nodded to the crofter and placed some coins on the table. “You and your wife have been most generous. May you never rue the day our paths crossed.”
Mr. Gunn rose. “You need never fear anything from me or mine. ’Tis an honor to meet you and one I shall tell to my grandchildren.”
A few minutes later they were mounted and on their way.
Thomas was in high spirits. He rode beside Gordon, a cider-fueled grin on his face.
“You should be careful what you say, Thomas,” Gordon said quietly. Riding on the saddle in front of him, Constance felt the tension in his body.
The giant scowled. “Are you talking about the bounty?”
“You know I am.” He met Thomas’s eye. “The more said, the less freedom we have to carry out our plan. Don’t be so easy with your tongue in the future.”
Thomas’s eyes hardened. He looked away a moment. Constance braced herself for a battle. To her surprise, the giant begrudgingly conceded. “You are right, Gordon. But there is a part of me that wants action. They should know what we are doing for them.”
“They already know. You saw them today. But just as they cheer us on, they could betray us.”
“I’d kill the man who would betray you.”
“I know you would,” Gordon answered, and Constance understood then why he had Thomas at his side.
She’d not thought to find such loyalty in Britain.
She’d witnessed it on the frontier, but not here.
In London and at Madame Lavaliere’s, she had gained the impression that everyone looked only to their own needs.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing to be kidnapped by these Scottish rebels. Perhaps she had something in common with them.
She was anxious to be done with the trip and tired of riding, but now she was curious about Gordon’s clan.
She wanted to meet the rebels and see if her suspicions were correct, if they were like her neighbors back home.
Her desire to reach the Novus before it sailed faded a bit.
She no longer felt so passionately desperate.
Questions rose in her mind…but everyone had grown quiet. The full meal seemed to have dampened their spirits. No one spoke. The men seemed anxious to reach the camp, each lost in his own thoughts.
They’d been riding for two hours, the horses moving steadily into the heart of the mountains. Constance had fallen asleep again. She woke to the sound of a dog barking.
Groggily, she looked around. There was no dog. They were riding downhill into a valley. Tall pines bordered a path wide enough for one horse.
The dog barked again, and then Thomas answered it with a howl of his own. The bark had been a signal. No wonder it hadn’t sounded natural to her ears.
They were coming to the rebel camp.
The pace of the horses picked up, a surer sign than any that the end of the journey was in sight. A scent drifted across the air. The smell of a campfire.
Constance straightened and leaned forward. She’d been to Shawnee camps and wondered how this Scottish one would differ.
They’d just reached a bend in the road when a pack of children came whooping down upon them, calling “Gordon” at the top of their lungs. Their clothes were homespun and they appeared full of energy and life.
The children danced alongside the horses, asking questions and staring at Constance. One boy with hair the red of a ripe apple even boldly said, “Is that the Englishwoman?”
“It is,” Gordon said, and the children gave a loud cheer, making Constance’s cheeks flame with the unwanted attention.
A few minutes later they came upon the Scottish camp, and Constance caught herself gawking.
It was like none she’d ever seen before. It was huge and a veritable hodgepodge of humanity. Tents, lean-tos, daub huts, and any other manner of makeshift quarters were haphazardly spread out along the shore of a silvery loch.
Gordon’s followers weren’t only young, strong men like Robbie and Brian.
There were hordes of children and women of every size and age.
A few goats, several sheep, dogs, and a pig wandered freely.
Most of the men, many well past their prime, looked like farmers who wouldn’t know how to shoot, let alone wield a sword.
These people reminded her of settlers who came to the frontier because they had nowhere else to go. They lacked direction and passion. They were the ones who couldn’t survive.
“This is your rebellion?” she asked, realizing too late that in her shock and disappointment, she’d spoken aloud…and they were the wrong words to say.