Chapter 17 #2
Up ahead, the two dogs stopped abruptly. Every muscle in Bran’s body stiffened and Skye pulled back her lips. A low growl rumbled from deep inside her chest.
Ronan’s hands tightened on the reins and he threw up a hand to call a stop. He stared down the road, trying to see what had caught the hounds’ attention but in the weak light he could see nothing.
Then both dogs began barking right at the same moment that one of Ronan’s scouts appeared over a slight rise. Running straight for them.
Ronan’s heart leapt into his mouth. Tossing Angus’s reins to Elodie, he jogged out to meet the scout. It was Eamon. The lad skidded to a halt, struggling to catch his breath.
“Riders,” he gasped. “Up ahead. Blocking the road.”
Something cold settled in Ronan’s stomach. “How many?”
“I counted twelve.”
“Bandits?”
Eamon shook his head. “I dinna think so. Looked like they were wearing a uniform. And they have lots of weapons.”
The cold in Ronan’s stomach deepened. Did they work for Lord and Lady Murdoch? Had these riders been tracking them since they’d left the Steading?
“How far away are they?”
“Just over the rise.”
He nodded once. “Well done, lad. Now back to yer post.”
Eamon nodded. Ronan looked towards Elodie who was watching him with a concerned expression on her face. “Stay here. Keep everyone together. I willnae be long.”
He turned on his heel and jogged away before she could utter a word. Bran and Skye flanked him automatically and his hand drifted towards his pistol. It took all his willpower not to draw it.
As he reached the top of the rise, the road beyond came into view.
This time, at least, Eamon hadn’t been exaggerating.
A dozen mounted men blocked the road. Unlike the ragged lot they’d encountered before, these men looked professional.
They wore dark blue coats and leather cross belts.
Every one of them carried a sword and a brace of flintlock pistols.
Government men.
Perhaps this should have reassured Ronan, but it didn’t.
In times like these even those tasked with protecting people could turn bandit.
They were clearly waiting for him. As soon as he started down the far side of the rise, one rider nudged his horse forward.
He was perhaps forty, with a scar running from his temple into his close-cropped beard.
“Stop right there!”
Ronan halted a comfortable distance away. “Aye?”
“Who are ye?”
Ronan shrugged. “Just travelers.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked past Ronan towards the distant column. “Whose side are ye on?”
Ronan frowned. “Side?”
“The King’s? Or the rebels?”
Ronan blinked in confusion. “Rebels?”
The officer’s patience visibly shortened. “We’ve orders to root out Jacobite sympathizers and anyone opposing the Articles of Union.”
Ah, so that was it. Politics again. He almost laughed bitterly. He had spent years hiding in a forgotten valley trying to avoid trouble exactly like this.
“We know nothing of politics,” Ronan said evenly, spreading his hands. “We’re simply traveling.”
“Why would a simple traveler be carrying a pistol like that?” the man said, nodding at Ronan’s weapon.
Ronan shrugged. “These are troubled times.”
“So they are,” the man agreed. “And our task is to ensure they dinna get any worse. By rooting out troublemakers disguised as simple travelers perhaps?”
Ronan felt his patience begin to fray. He heard the growl in his voice as he said, “Do we look like trouble makers to ye? Use yer eyes, man! There are families and old people back there!”
The officer seemed unimpressed. “I’ll ask ye again. Whose side are ye on?”
Ronan studied the soldiers carefully. Most of them looked to be barely out of boyhood and they were all carrying way too many weapons for his liking. Loaded pistols and inexperience were a bad combination. If this went the wrong way...
The officer watched him. “Well?”
Ronan made his decision. He’d never used his name to aid his cause before but perhaps now was the time.
“Ye need to learn to mind yer manners,” he said in as arrogant a voice as he could manage. “I’m Laird Ronan Campbell, brother to the Earl of Newborough, and ye are unlawfully blocking my passage on one of the king’s roads.”
The ring of authority he put into his voice had the desired effect. The soldiers looked at one another and the officer sat a little straighter in his saddle.
“The Earl of Newborough?”
“Aye. And this is the road to Campbell lands.” He allowed a touch of steel into his voice. “Those people are under my protection.”
The officer studied him carefully. “The Earl of Newborough is known to us. An important ally of the king.” He was clearly comparing the plainly dressed man before him with whatever he’d expected an earl’s brother to look like. Ronan stared back evenly, daring the man to doubt him.
Eventually the officer nodded. “Very well then. My apologies, Laird Campbell.”
Ronan inclined his head politely. “I’d appreciate it if ye would allow us to continue.”
“Of course.” He signaled to his men who wheeled their horses aside, opening the road.
Ronan waved the column forward then walked on without looking back.
People glanced nervously towards the mounted soldiers as they passed, but no one was stopped.
No one was questioned. Only once they’d reached a bend in the road, hiding the soldiers from view, did Ronan allow himself to breathe properly.
Elodie trotted up to him. “That was not an experience I’d care to repeat. How did you get them to let us through?”
He gave a humorless smile. “It seems my brother has unknowingly done us a favor.”
She looked puzzled.
“The soldiers recognized the Earl of Newborough.”
“Oh. So they just... let us go?”
“They did.” He smiled wryly. “It may be the last kindness Bryce ever shows me.”
She slipped her hand quietly into his. “Don’t talk like that. It will be fine.”
He looked down at their joined hands. “Aye. Maybe.”
As they began walking once again, the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. They’d borrowed safety from the very man who might pose the biggest danger of all.