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The rain eased as they returned, its plip-plop on their coats a slower rhythm now. Scott and Alistair had caught three ducks, but with the rain heavy and unrelenting, their pickings were lean and getting further cold and wet would not be worth it. Always the way, now they were almost home, the rain was easing.
Alistair walked beside Scott. He wasn’t a bad lad. Aye, he was hard on him. Never hurt, as the lad could do with learning some manners. He’d had to stop himself from slapping the lad for his insolence at first. Scott would never have stood for it with the youngsters in the Militia. But that was another place and time. Things would change.
The grounds were quiet as they approached. Scott loved the way Caitlin always came out to meet him when he returned from a hunt. No Caitlin today. A whinny from the stables caught his ear.
“Let’s see what the women have been up to. Surprise them, bein’ back early an’ all.”
They both entered the stable, Alistair held the brace of wild ducks to show them. The women were not in the stable and the horses were skittish and snorted. The mare was wandering around out of her stall, mucous and blood coming from her rear.
“What’s happened, Scott?” Alistair’s tone was wary.
Scott placed his rifle by the door, stepped over to the mare and felt her belly. His heart sank. He walked to her stall and inspected the straw on the floor. At the back of the stall lay a tiny horse, perfectly formed, covered in membranes, but not alive.
“No.” Scott hung his head, groaning in disappointment.
“I’ll go to the house and let them know we’re here?” Alistair lowered their catch.
“No, we’ll both go. The mare looks okay. She’ll clean herself up. Wonder if Caitlin kens.”
“They were cleaning tack and stuff today. That’s what Kelly said they would do, ‘cos it’s raining.”
They made their way to the cottage through the rain. It had started again. They stepped through the backdoor, the contents of the pantry were strewn around the kitchen. Opened boxes, which usually contained their medical supplies, were lid-less and empty. Cushion and mattress stuffing lay everywhere. The living-room furniture was turned upside-down.
No women. Not good. Scott suppressed the body-draining-dread which formed in his core.
“What’s that smell?” Alistair’s eyes were wide. His voice held a note of alarm. “I know that stink.”
Scott sniffed. “Body odour.”
“No. Not only that. Strawberry.” Alistair threw the ducks on the kitchen table and began searching the floor.
Scott raised his eyebrows. “What ye looking for, lad?”
“Can’t you smell the strawberry?” Alistair sounded frantic. He shuffled through the junk lying on the floor.
“Aye I can, faintly. But I fail to see the significance of strawberry and nae women.” Scott took a breath to forestall frustration, as it wouldn’t help.
Scott ran out the backdoor. “Caitlin!”
Only the patter of rain on the yard and its low thunder on the rooves of their sheds answered him.
Alistair came out behind him. They both stood in the rain, their wet-weather gear getting wetter.
“Found it.” Alistair held up a small transparent plastic container with a short spout at its neck. “A bottle for vape liquid.” The dread in the lad’s voice sent Scott into high alert mode.
“What are ye tryin’ tae tell me, lad. Come oot with it! Now!”
“I’m pretty sure slavers have Kelly and Caitlin.’
“How?”
“The slaver’s assistant vaped.” Alistair held Scott’s gaze.
He’d got complacent. Too comfortable. Dam the Bastards! A plan was forming. Scott raced to the gun locker, opened it and took out a shotgun and two Glocks. After stuffing the handguns in his belt, he filled his coat-pockets with boxes of ammunition.
“I’ll take the vehicle!” Scott turned and ran out the backdoor before Alistair had a chance to comment.
“You won’t be able to do it on your own! Wait!” Alistair shouted behind him. He wouldn’t wait for the lad.
Not turning back, Scott ran for the 4WD hidden in the copse nearby. Footprints had disturbed the pine needles which carpeted the copse floor, plenty of them. Cartwheel tracks, as well. Horses’ hoofprints trailed away from the edge of the copse toward the road. Scott stopped himself for a second. Think Scott. He scanned the ground, wanting to get as much information as he could. One wagon, lots of feet...a dozen men? No motorized vehicle? No, wait. He walked to the side a little—there were tyre tracks.
Scott leaned against the tree; his heart pounded, reaching his temples. His worst nightmare. His beautiful Caitlin and his Kelly. Scott rested his head against the tree as he regained mastery of his pulse and breathing. He needed his adrenalin and wouldn’t let it control him. He looked down. Snagged on one of the branch stubs which surrounded the lower parts of the Scots pine, was a piece of green thread. Caitlin wore her green jumper today. Good lass. He smiled to himself. His brave, smart woman was keeping her head.
The tyre tracks and cartwheel marks led north. Scott ran to the camouflaged vehicle and removed the tarp and foliage. Luckily, he had over half a tank of fuel in it. Jumping in, he turned the key. It took three goes to get it started. He skidded into reverse, then made his way north.
***
ALISTAIR RAN BACK INTO the cottage. The gun locker was open. Just as well, as only Scott and Caitlin had a key, and they never let it out of their sight. He grabbed more bullets and shotgun cartridges. He then removed every weapon from the armoury. Well, nearly. He wasn’t going to stand by and let those bastards get Kelly and Caitlin. Alistair shoved the ammo into a saddle bag as an idea formed.
Alistair ran to the stable. The horses were still skittish. He’d never ridden the black stallion. He approached him gingerly. The horse snorted as he patted his nose but then settled. Alistair had rubbed shoulders with Scott all day, maybe his scent was on him. He hoped it was. He needed his plan to work.
***
AT THE BRIDGE AT BALLACHULISH, Scott had an intense conversation with a group of people by the side of the road. They’d been helpful, but it was still not enough information. The clatter of hooves caught his attention. He turned away from a couple amongst the group. Alistair rode Adam through the persistent rain, the gelding trailed behind the stallion. He’d loaded both horses with weapons and bulky saddle bags. There would be ammunition in those if the lad was on-the-ball. Finishing his conversation, Scott thanked them for the information and walked toward Alistair. His chest was tight, and his breathing came hard.
“By all reports, there has been a group of slave traders through here tha’ day. They take ‘em off in covered horse-drawn wagons. These people dinnae ken where to, mind. Think I’ll make my way to Fort William. Somebody’s sure to ken there.”
“You need me.” Alistair pointed to the armoury he’d brought on the horses.
Scott’s mind spun. He needed the horses and arms but also to get to Fort William quickly. Alistair had done a braw job thinking of more weapons and ammo. Scott had some in the vehicle. But what would they be up against? Time was of the essence. Speed won.
“We need to get to them afore they sell the women on, or something happens to them.” Scott sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t go there in his mind. He recalled the state Alistair was in when they freed him. What must he be feeling? But there was no time for that. “The vehicle’s quicker than horses, aye? I’ll ask around at Fort William and meet ye there. I have enough fuel. If you’re no’ there when I find out, I’ll drive back for ye and we’ll go from there. Aye?”
Scott sped off in the vehicle, leaving Alistair to ride the horses at a canter to Fort William.