Chapter 11 #2
He turned and walked away from the lights of the wedding feast with Bran and Skye trotting faithfully at his heels. He knew without looking that Elodie was watching him go.
He made his way first to the smithy to collect his pistols, then moved quickly through the Steading. Beyond the clearing, the settlement was eerily quiet and for a moment Ronan felt like he was stepping back in time to the day he first came here when he thought he’d stepped into a ghost town.
Pushing the notion away, he took the path that led up the valley side and out onto the high ground beyond. He’d considered taking Angus but decided against it. He would be easily detected riding a horse. Ahead, the path zigzagged across moorland basking purple and gold under the evening sun.
Sending the dogs out ahead, he began walking along a little-used trail that would eventually lead to the ravine where the waymeet was located.
The last time he’d gone to the waymeet he’d met Irene MacAskill. What awaited him there this time?
Bran stopped suddenly, and Skye froze beside him.
Ronan came instantly alert. “Show me,” he commanded quietly.
The hounds moved forward on silent paws. He followed cautiously as they descended into the ravine that held the waymeet. He crouched down behind a prickly bush and looked out.
Five people were waiting at the waymeet, huddled together beneath the juniper tree that grew out of the ravine wall. Three men, two women, all dressed in patched and ragged clothing, all looking exhausted. One of the women swayed slightly as though barely able to remain standing.
Ronan stepped out of his hiding place. “Good evening to ye!”
The group turned at the sound of his voice, fear flashing across their faces. One of the men took a few steps towards him but stopped a decent distance away.
“Greetings!” he called. “And who might ye be?”
“I could ask ye the same question,” Ronan replied. “This is a remote place for travelers.”
The man glanced at his companions. “We heard there was a place of safety nearby.”
“Did ye now?”
“Aye. A place where we might find food and shelter. We desperately need both.”
Ronan studied the group. Their clothing was torn and dirt smeared their faces. They looked like they’d walked a long way. And yet something nagged at him. After Thomas’s encounter with Murdoch’s men, he knew he had to be careful.
“Where are ye from?”
“The north,” one of the women said. “Alberick. Our village was attacked.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
He kept his tone light, friendly, yet his unease didn’t lift. The dogs stayed on alert, eyes fixed on the group.
“Which marker led ye to us?” he asked casually.
One of the men frowned. “What?”
“The northern one? Or the river crossing?”
They looked at him blankly. This was a question that anyone who made it this far should know the answer to.
The series of secret markers and meeting places were how people found the Steading.
The information spread by word of mouth and anyone who had genuinely followed the network would be able to tell him which route they had taken.
The man hesitated. “The northern one.”
Ronan’s unease spiked into alarm, although he didn’t let it show on his face. There was no northern marker. Only the river crossing or the eastern one. Both routes would lead here. But not from the north.
Silence stretched. The dogs growled.
Ronan’s hand drifted towards his pistol.
Before he could touch it, the man suddenly exploded into motion, throwing himself at Ronan, fist swinging.
Ronan sidestepped and the man stumbled past. Bran launched himself like an arrow, slamming into the man and taking him to the ground.
Skye slammed into another man, knocking him flat on his back.
Ronan drew his twin pistols in one smooth motion. The hammers clicked back, and everyone froze.
He leveled the weapons at the group. “Enough.”
“Ye are quicker than they said,” one of the women snapped.
“Who sent ye?” Ronan growled.
Nobody answered.
Ronan cocked the pistols. “Answer the question!”
The woman’s jaw tightened. “Lord and Lady Murdoch.”
Those names again. These people weren’t refugees, nor even bandits. They were hunters.
“What do ye want?”
The woman ignored the question. She tilted her head as she studied him. “Ye know, there are five of us and only one of ye. Not good odds.”
Ronan shrugged. “That’s true. Shall we see how many shots I can get off before ye take me down? Shall we see how many my dogs can get hold of before ye beat them off?”
The woman paled a little.
Ronan smiled but there was no warmth in it at all. “No? Thought not. I suggest ye leave. Right now.”
The woman glanced at her companions and seemed to decide the odds weren’t worth it. “Come. There’s naught here for us.”
Ronan barked a command and the hounds backed off enough to let the two men on the ground scramble to their feet. He kept his pistols trained on the group as they backed away and then turned and ran off down the narrow ravine.
Ronan watched until they had disappeared from sight. Only then did he lower his weapons. A hard, cold sensation settled in his gut.
The Murdochs knew the Steading was here and it seemed they were determined to find it. Sooner or later they would send more people. Smarter people. More determined people.
Damn it all.
Calling the dogs to heel, he strode back the way they’d come.
He took the longest route he knew, crossing streams, doubling back, traveling through rough ground where tracks would be difficult to follow.
All the while one thought echoed through his mind.
The attack on Thomas had been the start of something, something none of them were going to like.
When he returned to the Steading, he found the wedding celebrations still in full swing but he had no desire to join in.
He found Eamon walking the perimeter of the valley and sent him to let Faye and Elodie know that he’d returned safely.
Then he took Eamon’s place walking the perimeter with Bran and Skye at his heels.
All the joy he’d felt only hours ago had evaporated. The euphoria he’d felt as he’d kissed Elodie felt like a distant dream. His people were in danger. Elodie was in danger. And he had no idea how to keep her safe.
Yes ye do, a voice said in the back of his mind. Ye know exactly what ye have to do.
No, he answered himself. Not that. Never that.
Gritting his teeth, he walked into the gathering dusk and tried to find a way to avoid the inevitable.