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TIRED OF RIDING HIS horse for days on end without the time to socialize with the wrong kind of women, Osgar Allardice dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to a nearby bush. The ride between the Swintons and the Dalldon’s castle took two days. Of course he could make it in a day and a half, if he did not rest his horse quite so often, but then, he saw no reason just now to rush. Dalldon was a bear to deal with until after his noon meal, and the sun was not yet high in the sky. Osgar found a spot atop one of Scotland’s rolling hills that overlooked the Dalldon loch and castle, and lay down to enjoy the full comfort of the warm sunshine.
Originally, his plan to draw Dalldon out of his castle was much different, but soon he realized Tam’s idea was a much better one. Convincing Laird Swinton to take part in his nefarious plot had gone well. The thought of killing his most prominent and hated opponent seemed to appeal to Swinton. Of course, it did not appeal to Swinton nearly as much as it appealed to Osgar. Dalldon’s time to die had finally come, and nary a lad nor lass would mourn the loss of him, particularly the daughter he tried to marry off, and the son he condemned to die in his dungeon.
Still, there was much that could go wrong.
What puzzled Osgar most was seeing Swinton ride to the MacGreagor glen shortly after they struck their bargain. He thought about it for hours and still had not guessed what Swinton was up to. If Swinton told Michael the truth, all would be lost.
He considered the promise he made to Tam. He liked the boy – as well as he could like anyone connected to Laird Dalldon, but for reasons of his own, Osgar had no intention of pleading Tam’s case to the king. The poor boy would probably die in the dungeon, if he had not already, but Osgar could not help that. It was far too late to change his plans now anyway.
If Swinton somehow managed to kill Dalldon, and Tam was not alive to inherit, then – Seona’s husband would. That was something he had not yet considered and the thought made Osgar sit up straight.
No one found the idea of marriage more ill-favored than Osgar, but the more he thought about it, the more he should be the man Seona married. After all, cousins married cousins all the time, especially when it came to those who considered themselves in the upper class, which Osgar always had. It was not as though he would have to give up anything, he would simply have more money to spend doing it. Of one thing he was certain – if he asked, the trivial and often contemptable Seona would jump at the chance to marry him.
“Best get on with it, then,” he muttered.
Dressed in his finest, which included a tightfitting green jacket, Osgar checked the position of the sun, and then got to his feet. He mounted his horse, rode down the hill and then around the loch to the front of Dalldon’s castle. He was immediately let into the inner courtyard, where grass and an abundance of multicolored flowers in full bloom bordered cobblestone pathways leading to four different doors. The sight of its beauty always confounded Osgar, and once more he marveled at the cold and heartless laird inside capable of enjoying such pleasant surroundings.
He had little time with his thoughts before Barra came to take him to Laird Dalldon’s withdrawing room. This room matched Dalldon’s personality far better, for it was as dark and brooding as its inhabitant, even with all six deerhounds in attendance. Beaten into submission, Osgar felt sorry for dogs that clearly had no easy avenue of escaping their harsh master. Each lay near Dalldon looking bored and despondent.
Instead of acknowledging Osgar’s attendance, Dalldon flipped his coin back and forth between the tips of his fingers and sat aimlessly watching the dying embers in the hearth. The castle seemed even colder and darker than usual, but then, all the draperies were closed letting in scant light from outside.
“Good news, I have found Seona.”
At that, Dalldon dropped the coin on the table and immediately stood up. “Where?” Stingy with the use of oil except when he had guests, only one lantern sat on a table situated between the two men and it cast enormous shadows of the two men on opposite walls.
“Laird Swinton has her,” said Osgar.
“Of course he does. Save for accusin’ you, I have suspected it since the day she was taken from me.”
“Accusin’ me?” Osgar breathed.
“Do you swear you dinna have a part in it?”
Osgar mockingly rolled his eyes. “Have you lost your wits? How shall I ever collect the debt you owe me if I dare betray you?”
Dalldon was not easily convinced, but at length he nodded. “You have proof Swinton has her, do you not?”
“I have seen her with my own eyes. Is my word not proof enough?”
Dalldon grunted, sat back down, and thoughtfully touched the fingers of one hand with the matching fingers of the other. He repeatedly tapped them together and stared into the embers, but no words came from his lips.
It seemed offering to let Osgar sit down was becoming an unpleasant trend among lairds lately. “Where is Tam?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. “I long to tell him...”
“Dead,” Laird Dalldon said matter-of-factly.
Osgar hid his delight and instead looked pained. “How...”
“He was pushed, fell, or perhaps jumped out of his bedchamber window. I have yet to discover which.”
“I am heartbroken.” He watched the expression on Dalldon’s face, but never had he seen a hint of his uncle’s remorse for anything he did, and now was no exception. It was then Osgar noticed Barra had not left the room, so he looked to the guard for confirmation. Terrified of actually nodding, Barra simply turned his gaze downward.
“Therefore,” Dalldon said as if he simply continued a previous sentence, “I must quickly marry and produce an heir. You are well aware of the eligible lasses in Scotland. Tell me, have you a recommendation? She must be easy on the eyes, know how to hold her tongue, and she must not laugh too loudly. If there is one thing I canna abide in a lass, ‘tis loud laughter.”
Osgar’s moment of sorrow over Tam’s death passed quickly enough. “I...see. Several lairds have daughters old enough to marry, and a few are most handsome. How soon are you thinkin’ of...”
“As soon as possible, of course. I care not whose daughter she is, but if you can arrange a speedy marriage, I shall pay you handsomely.”
Enraged, Osgar failed to hide his revulsion. “You have yet to pay me for the last arrangement I made on your behalf.”
“Hold your tongue, Osgar,” Dalldon shouted as he tightly gripped the arms of his chair. “Can you find a wife for me or not?”
Fearful his uncle might suddenly strike him, Osgar took a full step back. “I can, and I shall. But first, we must settle the matter of Seona.”
Dalldon calmed and once more relaxed in his chair. “Will Swinton bring her back to me?” Before Osgar could answer, he went on, “He would keep her just to irk me. Does he know the king wishes her to marry a Frenchman?”
“I know not what he knows. He threatened to cut my throat and would hardly let me speak – although he has named his price.”
“I am not surprised. A more ruthless lad I have yet to meet. Yet, to stay in the king’s high regard I must have Seona back. Have you a suggestion other than to meet his price?”
“You could send men to fetch her. I doubt Swinton thinks her worthy of a fight.”
“What lass ever is?”
Osgar nodded, took a chance, and slipped into a nearby chair. “I quite agree. What shall your answer be?”
“How much does he require?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
Dalldon did not even bat an eye. “Greedy is he? Well, if I must, I must. Tell Swinton I agree to his terms.”
“Swinton demands he first have the ransom before he gives her to me.”
“She shall fight you, you know,” Dalldon muttered. “She is much like her mother in that regard. Can you manage her?”
“Have I not always?”
Dalldon considered the situation for a moment more before he said, “Come back tomorrow mornin’ and I shall give you the ransom.”
“Excellent. Stay within and leave the rest to me. Soon, very soon, you shall have your daughter and all shall be well.” Osgar stood up, bowed to his uncle, and hastily left the room before Dalldon had a chance to question him further – or worse, change his mind.
“Tam is truly dead?” Osgar whispered as soon as Barra caught up with him outside in the courtyard.
“Aye and not a pleasant death by any measure.”
Osgar said nothing more until he and Barra were to his horse and away from the castle. Just before he mounted, Osgar looked up at Tam’s bedchamber. “Did he fall?”
“Nay,” Barra answered. Next after Laird Dalldon, Barra feared Osgar the most and with good reason. He had seen for himself what Osgar was capable of. In charge of Tam’s welfare, Barra feared Osgar might guess he had not spent the money given him, on food for the prisoner. Yet, Osgar seemed content with his answer and instead turned his horse, and rode off down the road toward the village.
Barra breathed a sigh of relief, knowing full well Osgar would be back in the morning. By then, he might remember to ask about the money to feed Tam, and Barra was not at all sure he knew what lie to tell him.
*
DALLDON WAS NOT EXPECTING him when the King’s messenger arrived. The man stood in the middle of Laird Dalldon’s courtyard, and looked the calm and collected Laird straight in the eye. “His Majesty, the King of Scotland, says to say the following. ‘Find your daughter in three days’ time or forfeit half your land.”
“Half my...” Dalldon gasped. “‘Tis not enough time.”
The messenger simply shrugged. “Have you a return message for the king?”
“I...tell him I shall do as best I can, naturally.” Dalldon watched as the man nodded, turned around, and walked out the gate. With all six dogs following right behind him, Dalldon turned on his heel, went back inside and up the stairs to his bedchamber. For over an hour, he paced back and forth until he made his decision, opened his door and roared, “Barra!”
Barra’s name echoed throughout the castle, and as quickly as he could, the trusted guard tore up the stairs and yanked open Laird Dalldon’s bedchamber door. “Aye?”
“Alert the lads. We ride at dawn.”
“Aye.” He softly closed the door and started back down the stairs. Soon a wide grin appeared on Barra’s face. Osgar never arrived until after noon, and as fortune would have it, by then they would be long gone.
*
AT LAST, OSGAR HAD a full night to enjoy the company of a fetching woman and enough strong drink to insure a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. Tam was dead and that called for a celebration. All he had to do now was collect the ransom and be gone. When Osgar did not return with Seona, Dalldon would be enraged enough to go get her from Swinton himself. They would fight and the stout Swinton would kill the weak and unworthy Dalldon. Meanwhile, hidden among the MacGreagors, Osgar would hear of Dalldon’s death firsthand and marry Seona.
He had it figured to perfection.
To celebrate, he drank another and another chalice of imported French wine fresh off a French ship, and celebrated until the crack of dawn, at which time he fell into a bed not of his choosing and passed out.
It was nearly noon when Osgar woke up and by then, the whole village was talking about the suddenness of it – Dalldon, and a hundred men rode south that very morning. About this, Osgar was perplexed. Did he not tell his uncle to stay put? It could only mean one thing. Dalldon meant to keep the ransom, and take his daughter from Swinton by force.
Enraged, he picked up his wine goblet and threw it hard against the wall. It then occurred to him that if he rode hard and fast, and took a shortcut he was familiar with, he could make it to the Swinton village ahead of Dalldon. With haste, Osgar filled his water flask, grabbed a loaf of bread, and went to find his horse.
*
BY EVENING, SEONA WAS bored. Save for meals, she kept to her bedchamber, sat in the only chair in her room, and watched what was happening in the village below. Finding the view lacking of any sort of entertainment, she lay down and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. What she coveted most was fresh air and a long walk. First, however she decided to do a little more snooping.
Carefully, she peeked out her door, found the hallway empty, and went back for the lit candle on her table. She had not noticed before, but the candleholder looked just like the one she saw Lindsey making.
“How brazen of them to put this here. I am to be forever reminded, I suppose.”
She picked it up anyway, curved her hand protectively around the flame, and slipped out the door. Instead of going down the stairs, she went up to have another look at the treasures Michael kept in the small room on the third floor.
Beitris took up residence in the room next to it, she knew, but she had no idea where Beitris was just now. As quietly as she could, Seona walked down the hallway, stopped, glanced both ways, and turned the knob on the door. When she pushed it open, the bottom of the door loudly scraped against the floor. She had not noticed that before, and sharply turned to see if Beitris had heard her. She waited, watched, and listened, until she was certain she would not be discovered and boldly went in.
Either there were new items or someone had rearranged things. Several items of gold and silver remained, but now there was a small silver box right in front. Her curiosity piqued, she set the candle on the table, picked up the box, and opened it. The box held but one object – but oh what a tempting object it was. She picked up the man’s ring and studied the large, flawless emerald in the setting. Even though she knew it would not fit, she put it on her finger.
“A thief as well?” a man said behind her.
Terrified, Seona dropped the ring back in the box and spun around. “Michael?”
“‘Twas my father’s ring.”
She dismissed her shock and sighed. “You frightened me.” Unremorseful, she picked the ring back up and reached for his hand, which he quickly pulled out of her grasp.
He should not have been, but he was surprised by her audacity. “Put it back.”
“But how glorious it shall look on you. Why do you not wear it?”
“‘Tis not your affair.”
There was a twinkle in her eye when she said, “Perhaps someday it shall be.”
“I assure you, it shall never be any of your affair.”
“You are being too harsh, Michael. My heart...”
He took the ring out of her hand, put it back in the box, and closed the lid. “You have no heart.” He picked up the candle, took hold of her wrist, and pulled her from the room. Abruptly, he shoved the candle at her, forced her to take hold of it, and closed the door. “If you dare come here again, I shall have you locked in your bedchamber.” With that, he walked away.
Indignant, she waited until she could hear his footsteps no more, went down the first flight of stairs and then back to her bedchamber. She considered smashing Lindsey’s candle holder against the hearth, but it was the only one in the room, so she blew the candle out and set it on the table.
Not caring if Michael saw her or not, she left her room and went downstairs. Seona marched into the empty foyer, opened the door, and hurried across the equally empty inner courtyard. When she burst through the door, Michael was waiting for her. His tightly folded arms, and his unmistakable scowl deterred her not, for she rolled her eyes, skirted past him, descended the steps, and then scurried across the outer courtyard.
Behind her, Michael nodded to the flute player, who began to play a jig as he fell in behind her. Owen was the next to follow, and soon one of the women fell in behind him, then a man, three children and another woman.
It took a few moments before she thought to look back and when she did, Seona was appalled by the number of people following her. Further enraged, she marched down the road in the middle of the glen, crossed the grass to the edge of the trees, and was about to enter the forest when Murran stepped out and blocked her way. The flute player stopped and so did all the people following him.
The look in Murran’s eye was meant as a warning, and such was how she took it. At length she turned around, and looked at the expression on Owen’s face. His frown was even worse than normal. There was no doubt in her mind that one, if not both of the men she had toyed with, were upset enough to do her harm.
Seona dropped her eyes and tried to decide what to do. Should she run on down the glen or should she go back to that miserable room in the castle? For a long moment, she looked toward the end of the glen, and just then another MacGreagor guard, one she did not recognize, stepped out of the forest.
Defeated, Seona puffed her cheeks, stuck her tongue out at the flute player, and started back to the castle. Again the flute player played, the people followed, Michael waited for her, and this time – he looked irritatingly pleased with himself. As if unbothered, she lifted her chin and walked back into the castle. In her bedchamber, she slammed the door, picked up an empty goblet and threw it against the stone wall. In a huff, she sat back down, gritted her teeth, and clenched her fists.
“I’d not marry him if he begged me!”
*
KENTIGERN MANOR, 1911
It was getting late when McKenna stopped reading, closed the book, and sneered, “What will poor Seona do now? She’s not a friend in the world.”
“Poor Seona,” Jessie mocked. “I am hopin’ Kester will do away with her and be done with it.”
Alistair chuckled as he stood up and offered his hand to his wife. “My Jessie girl, you’ve a bit more violence in your nature than I suspected.”
“I think...” McKenna started. Just then, the telephone rang.
Nicholas got up, answered it, and barely got out a few words before he grinned at his wife, “Abigail,” he mouthed. He waited until his wife came to him and then handed her the telephone, even though Abigail was still talking. He shook his head and sat back down.
“She what?” McKenna asked.
“Is that you, McKenna? I thought I was speaking to Nicholas. Well, anyway, I called to tell you Pearl Hughes is getting married, at long last.” Abigail drew in a deep breath.
“How wonderful. Is it the...” McKenna tried.
“No, no, it is not Mr. Tuttle, the dull and hapless druggist. He is a traveling salesman, of all things. He seems to be quite honest and dependable, but do you not know what they say of traveling salesmen? I fear for her happiness, I truly do, but she thinks herself the most fortunate woman in all of Colorado. Loretta likes him, however, and is not one bit put off by his profession. He sells manufacturing supplies, nails, screws, hinges, and such to the builders. Cameron says he is trustworthy, but what can one man know about the other? Nothing, nothing at all.”
“Does Pearl say she means to travel with him?” McKenna asked as soon as she could get a word in edgewise.
“She shall have to, if she is to have any sort of marriage. As it is, he comes to Colorado Springs but once a month. If only he would stay, though, and find a new profession. Oh well, it cannot be helped, I suppose. Tell Nicholas they have finished building the new jail. It is a very fine building at the edge of town with a proper office for the sheriff. It was said to be escape proof, but have you heard about Tommy Jeffrey? Of course you have not, for it just happened last week. Well, he stole a horse, you see, was promptly caught and became the first thief to be locked in the new jail. When the sheriff arrived the next morning, all the cells were empty.”
“Empty?” McKenna repeated.
“Not a soul to be found. Apparently, the deputy fell asleep in the sheriff’s office and heard nothing. Moreover, and to the Sheriff’s surprise, the door to the jail was still locked. The sheriff unlocked the cell and even looked under the bed, but Tommy Jeffrey was nowhere to be found.”
“How did he get out?”
“No one knows for certain, but here’s the truth of it. The sheriff cannot chase after him, for we have no law against breaking out of jail.”
McKenna could not help but giggle. “I cannae wait to tell Nicholas.”
“Go ahead, Dear, I shall wait.” Abigail listened, and then relished in the laughter of her friends in Scotland. “We ourselves try not to laugh,” she continued, “but just seeing the sheriff reminds us daily. We know not what has become of Tommy Jeffrey. Well, it is past your bedtime, Claymore tells me, so we shall chat another time. Good bye, and oh how I miss all of you.” With that, Abigail hung up.
Again McKenna giggled. “Abigail says ‘tis past our bedtime.”
“She is right,” Alistair agreed. “We have supplies to take to Charles at the castle tomorrow.”
“And tomorrow night is the much anticipated poker game,” Nicholas added.
“We have treats to bake for the charity sale in town on Sunday,” said Jessie. She yawned, got up, went to her bedroom on the bottom floor, and then closed the door.
Alistair picked up the closed book McKenna left on the sofa end table, and then put it on the top shelf. He followed McKenna and Sarah up the stairs, and as was his custom, Nicholas turned off the lights.
A few minutes later, Jessie quietly opened her door. The electric lamp on her table gave off just enough light to let her see where she was going. She tiptoed to the shelf, reached up high, managed to get ahold of the book, pulled it down, and tiptoed back to her room.
*
GAVIN WAS LATE AGAIN, but Charles was not overly concerned. Normally, there were just four playing a friendly game of poker of a Saturday night, but two could not make it. He made the offer to the replacements and invited Nicholas and Alistair to join them. “New blood,” he called them, and to their faces too. They gathered on the second floor of his wife’s hat shop and even though it was evening, it was still plenty warm in that room, so Charles opened both windows to allow for a cool breeze. Shelves against all four walls held hats in boxes, hats without boxes, shoes and more boxes, ribbons, sewing supplies, accessories, old forgotten mirrors, and piles and piles of accounting records.
While the others found a place to sit, Charles looked over the hats and chose a woman’s white one with three red rosebuds in the front. He went to the mirror, put it on, viewed one side, and then the other.
“What can you possibly be doin’?” Gavin asked as he opened the door and came in.
“‘Tis what all the lasses do when they try on hats,” Charles answered. “I cannae figure it out. A face is the same on both sides, yet they are never satisfied with lookin’ at just one. I am thoroughly confounded.” He took the hat off, tossed it back on the shelf, and took a seat at the round table. “Why are you late?” he asked Gavin.
“Had to milk the cow,” Gavin answered. He dug in his vest pocket, produced several coins, and then made a big production out of counting them.
Charles rolled his eyes and leaned toward Nicholas. “Last I heard, he dinna own a cow. He means, ‘tis none of my business.” Charles grinned at Gavin, picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. “He pretends to be impoverished too, but I suspect his mattress is filled with more wealth than you or I have ever seen.”
Gavin caught his breath and then put his head in his hands. “I never should have given that mattress away.”
“Perhaps he traded the mattress for a cow?” Barclay said. He was shorter than most men, thinner too, but that did not mean he was easily intimidated by the large, muscular Charles. “We dinna tell you everythin’, you know.”
William told Alistair, “Because Charles cannae keep a secret.” He nodded as if to emphasize his point.
“Still?” A shocked Alistair asked.
“‘Tis worse than ever before,” William said.
“I keep your secret well enough,” Charles shot back.
“Which one is that?” Alistair asked.
William pushed his spectacles up his nose, and gave Charles a warning look. “If you tell, I shall never again let you cheat at poker.”
Charles ignored him and cleared his throat. “Five cards, jokers wild, lads?” He waited for each of them to give the go-ahead, and then dealt the first card to Nicholas, followed by Alistair, Gavin, William, Barclay, and then himself. He started to deal the second card as he said, “William is smitten.”
“Again?” Barclay asked.
Gavin peeked at his first and then his second card. “When is he not smitten?” Everyone smiled except William, who looked intensely perturbed at Charles. Gavin knew it wouldn’t last long – it never did.
“What do you do these days,” Alistair asked Barclay. His hand was not looking promising and the third card was no help at all.
“He is the reason we meet in secret,” Charles answered. He lowered his voice to just over a whisper. “He is a schoolmaster now.”
“Ah,” said Alistair.
“Precisely,” said Barclay. “We are honorable, constantly sober, and must keep ourselves beyond reproach on all counts. ‘Tis unthinkably borin’, although I do have one advantage.”
Nicholas picked up his fifth card and rearranged his hand. “Which is?”
“I often find myself in the company of well educated, and I might add, quite agreeable lasses.”
“Barclay has yet to find a wife?” Gavin teased. He studied his hand, gathered them in a pile and placed them face down on the table in front of him.
“I see no bride darkenin’ your door either,” Barclay shot back.
Gavin defiantly lifted his chin. “I have a wife. She is just terribly shy and wishes not to meet any of my poker acquaintances. She dinna approve of poker.”
“He lies,” Barclay scoffed. He put two pence on the table and scooted them to the middle. “Ante up, Lads.”
“‘Twould be just my luck to marry a lass who dinna approve of poker,” William moaned as he added his own coins. “Naturally, I shall completely adore any lass who would adore me. I have begged and pleaded, but Barclay simply will not share nary a one of his pleasin’ lasses.”
“None of you have wives?” Nicholas asked.
“And there is little hope for any of us, now that you have taken McKenna,” said Gavin. “‘Twas not a one of us who dinna fancy her.”
“Persuading McKenna to marry me was not easy, I assure you,” said Nicholas.
“Persuadin’ McKenna of anythin’ was never easy,” said Charles.
“Speakin’ of cheatin’ at cards,” Barclay said out of the blue, “have you heard the latest news?”
“What news?” Alistair asked.
“They have invented a machine that can tell when a lad is lyin’.”
“Truly?” William asked.
“He is lyin’,” Gavin muttered.
“A machine such as that would come in handy in a poker game,” William thoughtfully said. With a pair of aces in his hand, it was going to be a good night.
Nicholas laughed. “I doubt such as we shall be allowed to buy it. It will likely be used by sheriffs and constables.”
“On criminals?” Gavin asked. “How does it work?”
“I am not certain,” Nicholas started. “I believe...”
Charles said. “Care to bet, Nicholas. Otherwise, we shall be here all night and then what shall McKenna do?”
“I shudder to think,” said Nicholas. He looked at his mismatched hand and then started a pile of discards. “I fold.”
“So do I. Besides, I am thirsty,” Butler Alistair said. When none of the others appeared to be getting up, he sighed. He stood, went to a serving tray behind Nicholas, and brought only one glass and a bottle of whisky back to the table. Alistair sat back down and began to pour himself a drink. “Tis my night off,” he said as he looked at all their gaping mouths.
“True,” said Nicholas. He reached around behind him for more glasses and then handed them out. He took the bottle from Alistair, poured less than half a glass for himself, and passed the bottle.
Charles immediately took note of the small amount of whisky in Nicholas’ glass. Distracting him was not going to be as easy as it had been the Saturday before. William won the first hand, the men anted up, enjoyed their drinks, and settled down to concentrate on the game. Alistair won the second hand.
“You forget,” said Nicholas to Alistair. “I promised McKenna I would win back all the money I lost last Saturday.”
“Aye,” Alistair answered, “but I dinna promise her not to beat you.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Gavin, what occupation have you taken up?”
“I am a button pusher,” Gavin answered as he began to deal the next hand.
“A button pusher?” Alistair asked.
Gavin stopped dealing and used his index finger to imitate pushing buttons. “The buttons on a cash register over at the shop.”
“Which shop?” Nicholas asked.
“All a lad or lass could possibly need to hoe a garden includin’ the hoe,” Gavin answered.
“Dinna forget nuts, bolts and screws,” Charles reminded him.
Nicholas nodded. “Then we shall be seeing a lot of each other, for we shall need those aplenty.” This hand was not looking much better than the last.
Gavin returned Nicholas’ smile and resumed dealing. “I would much rather do what William does. He makes shoes.”
“A cobbler?” Alistair asked.
“‘Tis out of necessity,” Gavin answered. “I’ve known no other lad to wear out a pair of shoes as fast as William.”
“You’d not like makin’ shoes,” William told Gavin. “‘Tis troublesome on the good days. On the bad days, there are ten lasses in the shop to try on every pair they can find no matter the size.”
“Shoes or hats matters not,” said Charles. “‘Tis the heat. It has muddled all our minds.”
“How is McKenna?” William asked. “I have yet to see her since she returned.”
“She is very well,” Nicholas answered. “We have two sons and a daughter on the way. At least we are hoping it is a daughter.”
“And our laird?” Barclay asked. This was going to be his hand to win and he was thrilled, although his poker face was well practiced.
Nicholas placed his small bet and then emptied his glass of whiskey. “We received a call just yesterday and he is sending more instructions. All is well in Colorado, and perhaps soon the mail shall not take so very long to reach us.”
Gavin chuckled. “I do enjoy your accent, Nicholas, although ‘tis a bit hard to get on with.”
Nicholas tried to act indignant as he poured himself another drink. “I beg your pardon? I do not have an accent.” The others laughed, but he refused to crack a smile. “I did hear that in India, an airplane carried thousands of letters from one town to another. They are calling it airmail.”
“How long before airplanes can fly across the ocean?” Charles asked. He called Nicholas’ bet and raised him a pound.
Nicholas immediately folded. “I have no idea, but would it not be splendid? We might someday cross an entire ocean in less than a day.”
“The Zeppelin might could do it,” said William, “If they could keep it from crashin’ in foul weather.”
Alistair looked at his new hand of cards, set them down, and raised the bet to two pounds.
“Made by the Germans, naturally,” Gavin grumbled as he too folded.
“Why do you say it like that?” Alistair asked.
“Because we’ve a new king and the Germans mean to go to war,” he answered.
“I’ll not believe it,” said William. “King George and Kaiser Wilhelm are cousins. They’ll not fight.”
“Then why do the Germans try to match the size of our fleet?” Gavin asked.
“I agree with Gavin,” said Alistair. “When it comes to land, power, and fortune, a lad will fight his own brother for it. Your bet, Charles.”
“I call.”
As luck would have it Charles won that hand, but he was far more interested in beating Nicholas. Therefore, he carefully waited until after the next deal to ask his question hoping to distract him. “What shall the Americans do if we go to war.”
“I have not the slightest notion what President Taft will do.”
“Speakin’ of war,” said Charles. “Would you lads know of anyone who might oppose the buildin’ of the castle?” his question was met with blank stares from Gavin, William, and Barclay.
“Who?” asked Gavin.
“‘Tis what we are hopin’ to find out,” Charles answered. He explained the situation and then turned to Nicholas, “Perhaps we might offer a reward?”
“Perhaps,” Nicholas agreed, “but for now, I intend to win this hand. I bet five pounds.”
There was no more said about the threats against the castle that night and one of them in particular was glad the subject was dropped.
Charles was taken aback by the bet and studied his hand while the other four men folded. “I fold as well.” He watched Nicholas collect the pot, gathered the cards, and began to shuffle them.
“How is the buildin’ goin’?” William asked.
“The cleanup is tedious, but we are makin’ progress. The kitchen wall is unstable, but we hope to simply reinforce it.”
Charles dealt the cards and when Nicholas again bet two pounds, he rubbed his chin. “I call and raise you a pound. When is the babe due?”
Nicholas was determined not to let Charles distract him and met his bet. “I call.” He watched Charles lay down a pair of tens, showed his three kings, and grinned.
“‘Tis truly the end of our friendship,” said Charles, tossing his hand in the pile of discards.
Nicholas laughed, and drew all the money to him. “Consider how happy you are making McKenna. After all, you work for her.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “I forgot about that.” He looked a little glum through the next and then the next hand, for his cards were horrible and he folded early. “By the way,” he said just as Nicholas placed a bet, “two stonemasons have already arrived. They have taken rooms at the hotel.”
“That is good news,” said Nicholas, not taking his mind off the game.
William bet three pence on his new hand. “Once the castle is built, I fear the good jobs shall disappear. What we need in Glenartair is manufacturin’ of some sort,” he suggested.
“What sort of manufacturin’?” Charles asked.
“More Scottish ale would suit me fine,” said Gavin. “Cannae ever have enough of that.”
“Clothin’,” said Charles, “and why not. Why should the shirt factories in America and England have such a large share in the market?”
Gavin folded his cards and grinned. “Charles means to make women’s hats and try them all on himself.”
Alistair chuckled, and then grew serious. “I think women’s hats a fine idea. Premade shirts for men and women’s undergarments are always in demand. Just ask my wife.”
Nicholas stared at his butler. “Are you thinking of changing professions?”
“Why not?” asked Alistair. “‘Tis done all the time. Besides, if we all six...” he paused to look at the way Charles, William and Gavin were shaking their heads. “We all three, then,” he muttered more quietly.
“I think it a fine idea,” said Nicholas. “I have little to do these days and I shall be happy to look into it.”
“Women’s undergarments?” Charles snickered. “I cannae picture you doin’ that.”
Alistair frowned. “Come to think of it, neither can I.”
*
HE HAD A LITTLE TOO much to drink at the poker game, but since Charles had also and was likely at home in bed, it seemed the perfect time to ride out to the castle. Besides he was curious. He wanted to see if the telephone lines had been repaired. He might have called, but he thought that too obvious. Besides, the call could be easily traced.
All day he had been thinking of a way to get past the guards and quite by accident, an idea presented itself. It was just in time too, particularly since Charles mentioned that one of the old walls was weak and might fall.
The days were getting longer and Scotland being so far north had its advantages when it came to the many hours of light. In fact, it was just as light out late at night as it was in early morning. The light let him more easily see where the guards were, and neither of them appeared to be asleep. That too was to his advantage. This time he rode his horse through the trees, halted right behind the graveyard, and dismounted.
He opened his pouch and removed two items. Slowly, he brought the megaphone to his lips and began to blow into it. Neither of the guards looked his direction, so he blew a little harder. That caught Tom’s attention, although it looked as if he could not guess where the sound was coming from. Ally waited until Tom dismissed the noise, pulled out his tin flask and began to unscrew the cap.
Just before Tom got it off, an eerie, more frightening sound met his ears and he nearly lost control of his entire flask.
On a bullhorn, Ally again blew the lowest possible note into the megaphone, increased the volume little, and then let it taper off.
Tom’s hands began to shake as he tried twice to get the flask back in his pocket. When he looked, the guard at the other end of the glen started toward the graveyard, but when the awful noise came again...louder this time, the guard ran for his horse, mounted and raced away. Tom often said he was not afraid of anything, but he had never heard a sound like that before and worse still, he was convinced it was coming from the graveyard. The third time he heard it; he too went to his horse, mounted and left the glen.
In the forest, Ally almost forgot himself and laughed into the megaphone. Just in time, he remembered, put it and the horn back in the pouch. He mounted, made his way to the castle, got down again and walked to the outside of the only remaining kitchen wall. He looked it over, and then put his hands on the wall to see just how unstable it was. Charles was right. It was very unstable. One hard push with both hands didn’t do it, so he put his back to it and then pushed with all his might.
As soon as the wall began to fall, he hopped out of the way. The burned rocks hit the floor with a loud bang, scattered and then the glen fell silent once more. Worried the guards would come back, Ally immediately got on his horse and headed back to the forest. Unfortunately, he only got halfway across the glen before he heard a fierce growl and saw the sharp teeth of a vicious dog. His horse heard it too, reared up and nearly threw Ally off. He got a tighter grip on the reins, forced the horse onward, and soon left the dog behind.
He might have been killed, and it was Charles’ fault, Ally quietly complained. Charles had not said a word about a dog. He rode away from the glen, calmed his horse down, went home, and fell into bed.
It was not until morning he realized that pushing the scorched wall down blackened the back of a good shirt. Frustrated, he wadded it up, tossed it in the hearth of his rundown cottage, and got ready to go to work.
He lost more often at poker than he won too. Last night just wasn’t his night.
