High on a Mountain (37 page)

“She must be a mighty forgiving woman to stay
with you, not knowing why you… why it…”

“I know.” Ailean nodded.

They stood side by side in silence for a long
while.

“Would you like me to tell her? Let her know
why things are this way between the two of you?” Gòrdan asked.

“You would do that for me?”

“Aye. For you. And for her.”

“Then, yes, please, tell her,” Ailean looked
away across the creek, across the years to the memory of the day he
lost everything. “And tell her…tell her I do love her…so much.”

They stood together silently for a few
minutes longer, then Gòrdan cleared his throat and said, “My
friend, I don’t want to intrude, but may I ask you a question?”

Ailean nodded.

“If you had died instead of your wife, would
you want her to live as you are living, unhappy and full of guilt?”
Gòrdan paused, then said, quietly, “Or would you want her to find
love again and be happy?”

The question startled Ailean. He jerked his
head toward Gòrdan and stared at him for a few moments, his eyes
wide and wondering. He turned away and gazed at the mountains that
surrounded his valley. Ailean left Gòrdan’s side without a word and
walked down to the creek. He squatted beside it, stared the
rippling, gurgling water while this new idea spun and churned
through his mind. Gòrdan watched him for a few minutes, shook his
head sadly and went to the hut to talk with Kutahyah.

____________

“Kutahyah.”

She raised her head from her work of
preparing food for the evening meal. “Yes?”

“May I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes. Please sit down.” She gestured to a
river cane mat by the fire.

“I spoke with Ailean and—”

“Ailean?”

“Asgayagiga. Ailean is his Scottish name. I
spoke with him, and he told me some things that I think you need to
know about. Things that are standing between you and him.”

“What did he say?”

“First of all, he told me he loves you.”

Tears welled up in Kutahyah’s eyes. “He
did?”

“Yes. But he said he has trouble…letting you
know it because…because he…” Gòrdan stopped and cleared his
throat.

“Kutahyah, he was married before, in
Scotland. And his wife was killed. She gave her life trying to
protect him from a man who meant to kill him. Now, when he tries to
be happy with you, he remembers that she died for him. He feels
guilty.”

The tears spilled from Kutahyah’s eyes, and
she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “He is a good man.
And I love him.”

____________

When Ailean joined them, Kutahyah served the
meal in silence. Gòrdan saw the looks of tenderness between them,
glances tinged with sadness, and he felt sorry for them. He
searched for something to say, something of interest to spark
conversation and relieve the tension he felt.

He took a bite of fish and chewed.
Ah,
yes
. He remembered.

He swallowed and said, “When I met with
William Thornton, I told him about you. And some bartender said he
knows you.”

“Bartender? I don’t know any bartenders,”
Ailean said.

“Well, he said he knows you. Asked where you
were.”

Ailean frowned. “What did he look like?”

Gòrdan described Latharn. “Black hair, brown
eyes. Medium-sized, and—”

“Did you tell him where I am?” Ailean
interrupted.

“No. Should I have?”

“That’s Latharn Cambeul, the man who killed
my Mùirne. He still wants to kill me. That’s why I escaped from the
plantation, to find a way to arm myself so I could fight him.”

“I’m sorry I mentioned your name.”

“No, don’t be. He would have found out where
I am one way or another. He won’t rest until one of us is
dead.”

They finished the meal in silence and sat
looking into the fire for a while, as though each of them was at a
loss for words.

At last, Gòrdan sighed. “I’d better get some
sleep. I need to get an early start for Elatseyi.”

“Gòrdan, I almost forgot,” Ailean said. “I
found an interesting thing some weeks ago. Would you mind looking
at it? I can’t figure out what it is.”

He retrieved the piece of yellow metal from
the small pottery bowl where he’d placed it for safe keeping and
handed it to his friend. Gòrdan held it close to the fire and
looked at it, turning it back and forth in the light and feeling
it.

He glanced at Ailean and asked, “Where did
you find this?”

“In the shallows of the stream,” Ailean said.
“Well? Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a piece of gold.”

“Gold. Are you sure? I saw something made of
gold once, and it didn’t look like this. It was shiny.”

“Gold isn’t shiny when it comes out of the
ground. Or out of a creek.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s gold hereabouts. I get a little in
trade every now and then.”

“Gold,” Ailean said, staring into the fire,
lost in thought. He turned to Gòrdan and asked, “Do you mean gold,
like money? Like you can use to buy things?”

“You can use pieces of gold like this for
trade. I can take it to Charles Town on my next trip and find out
what it’s worth.”

“How many pieces like that would it take to
buy a cow?”

Gòrdan laughed. “You could probably buy
several cows with a piece this size.”

“And a gift for Kutahyah, too?”

“Aye.”

Ailean asked, “The red shirt she was looking
at, could I get that for her?”

Gòrdan smiled. “I’ll get it from my pack in
the morning before I leave.”

“One other thing. How do you say ‘I love you’
in
Tsalagi?
”

“
Gvgeyu
.”

Gòrdan stayed the night with Ailean and
Kutahyah and left for Elatseyi the next morning.

FORTY-SIX

Ailean shivered in the early morning chill as
he squatted by the door frame he was building on the
asi.
Kutahyah went inside the house, brought a blanket and draped it
over his shoulders, leaning over to pull it close around his neck.
He stopped his work and looked into her eyes. He grasped her hand
and brought it to his lips.

“Thank you, my sweet.”

She smiled and with her other hand which
rested on his shoulder, she gave him a pat and a caress. He stood,
put his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured. “I
wish…I wish things were different with me, that I could…” He
cleared his throat. “
Gvgeyu
, I love you.”

Kutahyah wrapped her arms around his waist
and laid her head on his chest. “
Gvgeyu
,” she replied
softly.

Ailean kissed her forehead, her temple, and
she raised her face to receive his kiss on her lips. When their
lips met, desire surged through Ailean, carrying him on the
mindless crest of a flood of passion. His gentle embrace grew
tighter, his tender kiss became insistent and demanding. He was
unable to think, unable to feel anything but the wanting, which
grew stronger with the warmth of Kutahyah’s response.

But from deep within, a small voice spoke,
echoed louder and louder, cutting through the hot intensity of his
pent-up longings.
What about Mùirne? She died for you.

He released Kutahyah, stepped back from her
and groaned. “I’m sorry. I thought I could…but…”

He stumbled away from her, made his way to
the stream and fell to his knees on the bank. He sat, drew up his
knees, propped his elbows on them, and buried his face in his
hands.

____________

Latharn and Jim watched from a distance,
hidden in a thicket.

“That him?” Satterfield asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, what you going to do now?”

Latharn didn’t want anyone witness the murder
of MacLachlainn.
No, no!
He corrected himself.
Not
murder. Execution.

MacLachlainn should have been executed in
Scotland. Would have been executed if Latharn hadn’t intervened and
requested that the man be transported and sold as a slave. Latharn
hadn’t wanted a quick, easy death for MacLachlainn. He wanted him
to suffer. But now, here he was, loved by another woman.
MacLachlainn was a happy man while it was he who suffered.

It isn’t fair!

Resentment over the injustice whipped his
hatred into an astringent, burning foam that spread and filled him,
made it difficult to see beyond it.

“Take the horses back to the place we camped
last night. Wait for me and I’ll meet you there,” he whispered.

Satterfield nodded and eased away silently
while Latharn watched for an opportunity. He would wait until
MacLachlainn was alone. He didn’t want to hurt the woman. No, he
wouldn’t hurt another woman. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his
eyes shut as the memory of Mùirne’s death returned to haunt
him.

Latharn watched as MacLachlainn sat on the
bank of the stream, elbows propped on his knees, staring across the
water. The woman moved to MacLachlainn’s side and looked at him for
a moment. She went to the house and sat beside the door in a patch
of sunlight.

____________

Asgayagiga’s eyes had the vacant, faraway
look again. Kutahyah knew that look well. He would go to the
mountain of Tumbling Waters and sit on the rock beside the creek,
staring at the valleys below, looking but not really seeing. What
he saw was something far away and long ago, something in his
memory.

She took her usual seat by the door and
watched as he rose and walked away. She continued her work peeling
cane splits for baskets she intended to weave and trade to Gòrdan.
She, as always, would wait patiently for Asgayagiga’s return.

Something caught her attention, a half-seen
movement, a flash of color, something blue in the undergrowth
halfway up the hill. She laid aside the cane, keeping her bone
knife in her hand, and stood, turned to the right to cross behind
the house unseen by anyone who might be watching from the hillside.
She slipped into the woods behind the house and crept up the
hill.

With silent steps, she approached the spot
where she’d seen the hint of movement. No one was there, but she
saw a faint half-moon depression made by a boot heel on the bare
ground. She searched for other signs and found them. There had been
two men hiding, watching. The tracks of one man led east, toward
Gulahiyi. But the other had gone to the northwest. Toward the
mountain of Tumbling Waters. She followed the clear trail the
booted man had made, headed in the direction of the mountain where
Asgayagiga was going.

She paused to think. Why would this person
hide? Why would he follow Asgayagiga, if he meant no harm? Her
beloved had no weapon to defend himself. She ran back to the house
to get the axe.

Hurry! Hurry!
she told herself. The
man could be attacking Asgayagiga now. She grabbed the axe and the
large knife she had gotten in trade from Gòrdan. She knew where her
beloved was going. She didn’t bother to track the man who followed
him. Kutahyah ran straight toward the mountain.

____________

Ailean settled himself on his rock and gazed
over the valley below. But he saw in his heart the glen and
cottages of his home near the shore of Loch Fyne. He thought of his
boyhood hopes and dreams and berated himself. Why had he ever
thought he wanted fame and glory as a warrior? He’d had everything
a man could want: the love of a good woman, a son who made him
proud, and a warm circle of family and friends. But he hadn’t
valued it enough.

And he’d lost it all.

But worse than the contemplation of his loss
was the memory of his argument with Mùirne before he left for
Inverness, the last lucid conversation they shared. He hurt her,
lashed out with words that separated their hearts from one another.
And that hurt had never been healed. Mùirne died before he could
repair the damage he’d done to her, died giving herself to save
him, loving him even after he’d hurt her so deeply.

The pain seemed too great to bear any longer.
If he took a few steps, it would all be over. No more guilt. No
more grief over the loved ones he’d lost. And no more unfulfilled
yearning for Kutahyah. Just blessed relief.

But he couldn’t bring himself to carry out
his own death. Even though Ailean had turned his back on God, the
teachings from his youth still held his heart and mind, and he
believed it would be a sin to kill himself. And it would not
provide the relief he craved. It would merely exchange his anguish
on this earth for eternal torment.

____________

Latharn climbed the steep trace up the side
of the mountain with difficulty, the soles of his boots slipping
and sliding on the dead leaves and moss that covered the ground. He
reached the top and saw a stream meandering across the small,
narrow gap near the top of the mountain. He followed the stream and
found MacLachlainn sitting on a rock at a place where the earth
dropped away. He was looking out over the void.

Latharn took a deep breath. This moment was
what he had waited for, longed for. He wished he could kill
MacLachlainn, bring him to life, then kill him again, to make him
pay in full for all the heartache he’d caused. He wished he could
make MacLachlainn die a thousand deaths, all painful, but one would
have to do. He took the pistol from his belt and aimed at
MacLachlainn’s back, started to squeeze the trigger but stopped.
No. He wanted to look into the man’s eyes, to see fear in them,
wanted to see MacLachlainn cower before him. Wanted to see
MacLachlain suffer.

“MacLachlainn. Prepare to die.” he
shouted.

____________

Ailean recognized Latharn’s voice. He stood
and turned to face Latharn. He was tired of Latharn, and weary of
his hatred of the man. A thought occurred to him:
If Latharn
kills me, I’ll be free from this torment, but I won’t bear the sin
of killing myself.
For a brief moment, some part of him took a
grim satisfaction from the knowledge that Latharn would bear the
sin of murder, would pay the price for his death while he would
not.