Chapter 13
Chapter 13
“Your island?” Lachann asked. “You’re referring to the small isle that lies beyond the straits?”
“Aye.”
“ ’Tis habitable?” It appeared to Lachann as a mass of rock and nothing more.
“Barely,” Anna answered. “But Kyla will be safe once we’re there.”
Kyla stumbled and Lachann lifted her into his arms. “Birk won’t come for me on the isle.”
Lachann winced at the sight of her bruised face. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
And Lachann had too much to do today to spend time trying to find him. If both women felt they would be safe on the isle, then so be it. He helped Kyla to the edge of the pier, where he’d caught her the previous day, and left Anna to help her into a small curragh. She stepped in and he handed her the satchel.
“Thank you.”
Lachann gave her a nod, then stood watching as they settled into the boat and Anna cast off. As much as he might doubt their strategy for keeping Kyla safe, they had been dealing with her husband far longer than he had.
Anna handled the boat expertly, navigating ’round the other boats at the pier until they were in the open water. After a moment, she looked back at him.
Their eyes met, and when she smiled, he realized he’d stood there overlong. ’Twas time he went about his own business.
His horse had followed him to the pier, so he mounted and rode into the hills, up beyond the village. From the high peak that rose above the village, he could see much of Kilgorra’s coast and the sea. He looked for Anna and saw that she’d already rowed a good distance.
He rode up to a large cottage at the edge of a vast field of barley. As he approached, he saw an old woman carrying a basket of laundry to the side of the house where stout drying ropes had been hung. She looked up at him. “Ye’re the Braemore lad?”
“Aye,” Lachann replied, glad to have his thoughts diverted from Anna MacIver. “Though ’tis been some time since I was called a lad.”
“When ye’re my age, everyone is but a lad or a lass,” she said. “Ye look as though ye could use a draught of cool water.”
’Twas true. The sun had fully risen, but heavy clouds were gathering just north of the isle. Lachann dismounted as three young men stepped out of the croft. One led the way while the other two tied their belts ’round the plaid at their waists. The woman put the basket down next to her washing tub.
“Good morn to ye,” said the first of the men, extending his hand. “I’m Boyd MacPherson. These are my brothers, Tavish and Rob. That’s our granny, Isobel MacRae.”
Lachann gave a nod of acknowledgement as he shook the men’s hands. “Lachann MacMillan. You’ve a bonny farm.” He took the ladle of fresh water handed to him by the old woman. “You grow barley for the distillery?”
“Aye,” Boyd said. “We provide more barley than any other farm on the isle.”
Their prosperity gave these men good reason for learning to defend their land, though that was not so much Lachann’s concern at the moment. First, he wanted to see to it that Kilgorra was capable of blocking the sea lanes to his home on Loch Maree.
“I remember you, MacMillan,” Boyd said. “From Perth, 1715.”
Lachann looked up. “You were there?”
“Aye,” he replied. “Your brother Dugan was wounded on patrol when he came upon some of Argyll’s men. He was outnumbered but put up a good fight.”
“Aye,” Lachann said, cringing at the memory. “ ’Twas only because my cousin Duncan went looking for him that he survived.”
“Aye. I remember the day,” Boyd said. “Just a handful of us went from Kilgorra with my uncle to fight for King Jamie.”
“ ’Twas a long time ago,” Lachann remarked, heartened to know there were at least a few men on the isle who knew how to do more than throw a net or follow a plow. He took in all the brothers at a glance. “So you’ve fighting skills?”
“Aye. We all have.” Boyd gestured toward his brothers. “We followed our uncle Iain MacRae to Castletown. And on to Sheriffmuir.”
Where Lachann knew a battle had been fought.
“I plan to raise an army here on Kilgorra,” Lachann said.
“Aye, we’ve heard talk of it,” MacPherson said, looking across to his grandmother, who nodded.
“ ’Tis about time,” Tavish said. “Last summer, a band of pirates led by Blackburn MacGaurie raided and made away with thirty barrels of Kilgorra whiskey.”
’Twas what Lachann had expected. And yet Cullen Macauley had not heard of the raid. Likely he had not bothered to ask, and no one had told him. He was well and truly focused on the distillery, as though he could make his fortune there without any protection at all.
“There were killings that day,” Isobel said. “ ’Twas horrid.”
“Our men were unprepared,” MacPherson explained. “Our weapons rusty. We could not organize quickly enough to combat them.”
“Now we hear of pirates raiding the outer isles,” Rob said. “ ’Tis dangerous these days on Kilgorra.”
Lachann looked out at the sea. He knew there were numerous islands west of the mainland. Plenty of places for raiders of all sorts to hide.
“One such ship attempted to invade Braemore in the spring,” Lachann said.
“Aye?”
“We lost men as well.” Lachann remembered the carnage that day and vowed ’twould never happen again. Now there were cannons at Braemore, and he was going to provide yet another layer of defense here at Kilgorra against encroachers on Loch Maree.
“Our men need to be trained,” Boyd said. “Too few of us have any experience.”
“I brought some of the best men from Braemore to provide training,” Lachann said. “Our isle will be well defended in future, on land and at sea.”
“ ’Tis good to hear it,” Rob said. “Laird MacDuffie has done naught in years. I don’t believe he understood the devastation of the attack last year or the threat that still remains.”
“Because he’s become a wee tumshie in his dotage,” Isobel said with disgust.
As they spoke of raiders, they all looked toward the sea. They saw Anna’s curragh, just arriving at her isle.
“ ’Tis Anna MacIver,” Rob said.
“Aye,” Lachann said. “I saw her down at the pier just before she left.”
Isobel shuddered. “ ’Tis likely she’s takin’ Kyla Ramsay there to keep her from her husband for a few days. She does’na mind the boggle that haunts the place.”
“The boggle?” Lachann frowned.
“Aye. The wee isle is haunted by a fierce sluagh dubh. Birk would never go there.”
Lachann recognized the term, though he’d never encountered any such malevolent spirit in his travels. He wasn’t sure he actually believed in them.
The old woman shrugged while Rob answered the question. “Anna knows a way to placate the sluagh dubh and goes there whenever she likes.”
“She appeases it somehow,” Tavish said, “so the bloody thing leaves Kilgorra alone.”
Lachann had never heard such bleeting nonsense, but he didn’t argue. He watched for a moment as Anna’s boat floated out of sight to the northern side of the wee island. He intended to visit the place for himself to see if any part of it could hide a raiding force. He needed to know if there were any other good landing places within rowing distance of Kilgorra.
“Ramsay. Birk Ramsay?” he asked, remembering the name of the blacksmith at the castle. Naturally, many of the families on an isle like Kilgorra would be related. “He’s the son of the blacksmith?”
“His nephew,” Isobel said. “And neither one has a clever bone in his body.”
Aye, that much had seemed evident.
“MacMillan,” Boyd said, “we’ve got a harvest to bring in next month. But if you are ready now to arm and train our men to fend off a raid, we’re willing and able.”
“Aye,” Rob added. “Count on me.”
Tavish grinned. “Me, too. But you’d better take care if you give any weapons to the men at the distillery.”
Lachann gave him a questioning glance.
“Because they might see fit to try their battle skills on Cullen Macauley.”