The Beautiful Stranger (45 page)

Arthur did not hear the rest of what Regis said. He was already pushing through the crowd to the bailey.

How in Gods name did one find Willie Keith? He had no notion of where the boy lived! Arthur rode Freedom hard, reining to a wild stop in the first hamlet he came to. No one was about; they were all apparently at the tower. Frustration and fear groped at him, tried to sweep him under with their current.

He swung down from Freedom, left the horse to drink from a trough as he stalked from one cottage to the next, pounding at each door. At the last one, he did not bother to knock, but in a fit of frustration, lifted his leg and kicked it open. Is there no one in this godforsaken place? he roared.

The cry of an infant startled him; he lurched forward, through the door. A woman stood against one wall, her suckling infant at her breast. She cried out, brought her hand up to the babys head. A strange heat instantly swept through Arthur, he quickly held up his hands to show her he meant no harm. Forgive me, madam, but it is with some urgency that I find the lad Willie Keith. He delivers the post.

Too stunned to speak, she could only nod. Arthur dug his nails into his palms in a mad effort to maintain

his composure and forced himself to ask, Where mightIfind Willie Keith?

Killiecrankie, she whispered, and Arthurs heart surged on a new wave of hope. He pivoted away, raced for Freedom. He did not allow himself to think how far Killiecrankie was, just spurred Freedom to the west, lowered his head, and forced all thoughts from his head except that of Willie Keith.

Freedom covered the distance in a quarter of an hour, but the hamlet was just as deserted as the last.

Only a blacksmith remained behind, hard at work. Arthur strode to him, his hand resting on the butt of his gun holstered at his side. I beg your pardon, sir, but it is imperative that I find Willie Keith at once!

The blacksmith looked up, eyed him casually before turning back to his work of forging a horseshoe.

Hes delivering the post, just as he does every week.

Yes, but where? It is a matter of great importance!

Aye, but I canna help you, milord. Willie travels many different roads, he does. Ive no notion where he might be.

Calmly. Have you any idea then when he might return?

Oh aye, said the blacksmith, thrusting the shoe into cold water. Not ere dusk, you can be sure.

That was too late. That was too goddamned late!

The world at last crumbled under his feet, and Arthur turned away, walking unevenly. He felt himself sinking, rapidly descending down into the brink of hopelessness. He felt his failure keenly, felt it as sharply and as fresh as a knife to his heart, and his minds eye was suddenly filled with the deadly pallor of Kerrys skin as she stood in the box, swaying with the fatigue and weight of the testimonythe liesagainst her.

He walked, blindly, paralyzed by his inability to save her, the crushing knowledge that it was done, that he could not stop the tide of this ordeal from taking her, from taking the one person he loved above all others.

That thought overwhelmed him; his legs buckled and he suddenly found himself on his knees in the middle of the rutted lane that marked the center of the hamlet. Tears filled his eyes, tears of gross frustration, of losshe had lost her. He had lost the one person who could make him believe heaven existed on earth. The loss was so devastating, so suffocating that he was insanely reminded of Phillip.

How often he had tried to imagine the despair that might bring a man to end his own life.

How he hoped to God Phillip had not felt anything as keenly as this.

A sound, a faint whistle brought his head up and he looked to the right, gasping. Phillip stood leaning against a cottage, his arms folded beneath the hole in his chest, his legs crossed negligently, his blond hair wildly mussed. Arthur sucked in his breath, and slowly sank back on his heels. He had lost his bloody mind. Was he mad? How could he see Phillip now if he hadnt gone completely mad Phillip nodded his head in the direction of a cluster of cottages. A movement between them, the flash of red, and the faint whistle again. Arthur struggled to his feet, followed the sound of the whistle, moving backward, until he saw the flash of red again, coming toward him now.

Willie Keith.

Arthur hastily wiped his sleeve across one eye. Willie, he said, holding out his hand. Willie, listen to me now, lad. You must help me.

Willie eyed him apprehensively. Aye, he said uncertainly.

You care for our Mrs. McKinnon, do you not?

The boys face instantly flamed. He looked down at his satchel and bit his lip.

She needs you now, Willie, Arthur said slowly, and took a tentative step forward. You know that she needs you now, dont you? he asked softly.

Willie nodded very slowly, took one small step backward without looking up.

Arthur knew then. How he knew it, he did not know, but he knew the poor child had seen Charles Moncrieffe die. He moved slowly, very carefully placed his arm around the boys shoulders, gave him a comforting squeeze. There are times, Willie, when a man must help his friends, even if hes very afraid.

What do you think, well have us a bit of a chat, shall we? Man-to-man, he said calmly.

Willie Keith sniffed, dug his fingers into his eyes. Arthur patted his arm and quietly led him toward Freedom, holding him tightly against his side, comforting him.

Only when he had the boy securely on Freedoms back did he look back to where Phillip had stood and shown him Willie Keith.

He was gone.

Kerry did not believe her legs would hold her much longer. She gazed up at the rafters of the old tower, swaying slightly, wondering if she would hear the angels singing when she died.

She had long since lost track of what Mr. Regis was doing. He was questioning an old shepherd about the best grasses on which to graze sheep, and then cattle. She actually agreed with Moncrieffeshe had no idea what the relevance of it was. It had gone on for what seemed hours; Justice Longcrier seemed to be losing patience, too. With his head propped against his fist, the fingers of his left hand drummed incessantly against the table as he frowned at Regis.

At the very least, Arthur had heeded her and gone. At least she hoped so. Her vision was blurred now, but she looked around her, looked for his face, the familiar aristocratic stance. He had gone. Squinting, she dragged her gaze to Thomas, who seemed quite intent on the old shepherd. She wished she could tear her thoughts away from the inevitable. Part of her wanted to throw herself on the mercy of the justice and beg him to spare her the agony of waiting. Another part of her wanted to live as long as she could, every second of every moment she had left.

If only she could sit for a moment.

Mr. Regis! Longcrier suddenly blurted. Ive learned quite enough about sheep herding. Whatever do you mean by all of this?

My lord commissioner, I had intended to demonstrate that the best grazing land for sheep were on the

lands that Mrs. McKinnon owned.

Yes, yes, so you have! What of it? the justice pressed.

Regis frowned, splayed his hands across the table and seemed to silently debate the question. I would put forth a theory, my lord.

Justice Longcrier sighed loudly. Very well then. But this shall be your last theory, Mr. Regis.

I believe Baron Moncrieffe coveted Glenbaden

I beg your pardon once again, sir! Moncrieffe bristled.

You advised Mrs. McKinnon not to raise sheep, did you not? Mr. Regis shot back. By her own, undisputed testimony, you advised her to raise beeves, even though it was obvious the land couldna support the herd! Did you not tell her thus so that she might fall further into debt and then you could have her land to graze sheep? Was that not keeping with your previous expansions of the sheep farming, sir?

The hall grew quiet. Kerry blinked, tried to focus on Regis.

My lord commissioner, we have heard from a peddler who claims Thomas McKinnon presented himself as Mrs. McKinnons husband while Fraser McKinnon lay dying in a back room. I would suggest that her cousin sought to give the illusion of a husband in case the peddler thought to prey on an innocent woman.

As for Mrs. McKinnons mother, the woman is a religious zealot with a history of condemning every thing and everyone, regardless of the truth! We have also heard from a doctor who saw Thomas McKinnon driving the beeves to market. We know that at this point, Mrs. McKinnon had dispatched her kin to Dundee, where she hoped they might gain passage to America. Why would she send her kin away if not for their own welfare? They had lived in that glen for several generations, alongside her, alongside Thomas McKinnon. It doesna seem particularly prudent if she conspired murderwho better to witness on her behalf than her own kin?

Justice Longcrier was sitting up now, watching Mr. Regis with some interest. That may very well be, sir, he said. But you have not accounted for two facts: first, that Mr. Abernathy sent word that her debts were due just before she sent her clan wandering, and second, how did Charles Moncrieffe come to be killed?

The hall grew quiet as the crowd waited for his answer. Mr. Regis looked across to Kerry; his desperation was plain. Mrs. McKinnon told you that she hadna seen the letter, my lord, he said quietly. I believe that to be true. I believe that letter, and another from her mother, were delivered about the time Charles Moncrieffe came to call.

Kerry blinked.

Kerry McKinnon did everything she knew to do to save her home, but when she couldna raise the money, she did what she had to doshe sent them away, tried to sell the beeves to provide passage to America. But Baron Moncrieffe wanted her land. Kerry McKinnon never saw that lettershe saw only Charles Moncrieffe as he attempted to force himself on her at the direction of his father!

Moncrieffe looked absolutely livid as he moved wildly in front of Longcrier. My lord commissioner, I willna stand for these lies!

The only lies in this hall are the ones you have told, Moncrieffe! Arthurs voice rang clear and loud above the din; Kerry stopped breathing. He came striding through the crowd toward the dais, Willie Keith firmly in hand. His expression was one of mad determination; his jaw was bulging with it.

Who are you? Justice Longcrier exclaimed.

Lord Arthur Christian, my lord. But more importantly, this is Willie Keith of Killiecrankie. Willie delivers the post to the hamlets in the glens, and on the day in question, he delivered the last post to Glenbaden.

Moncrieffe roared his complaint, but the justice ignored him. Kerry still could not breathe, could not catch her breath. The justice leaned forward, peered closely at Willie. What is your name, lad?

Willie Keith, he mumbled.

Willie Keith, two people have been accused of murdering Charles William Edgar Moncrieffe. Do you have information to the contrary?

Clearly frightened, the boy looked up at Arthur, and Arthur smiled warmly, the same, comforting smile he had bestowed on Kerry so many times. She could feel the strength of it now seep into her bones.

Willie must have, too, because he nodded, turned his attention to the justice, and in a clear voice, told him that he had witnessed Charles Moncrieffes attempt to have his way with Mrs. McKinnon, that he was afraid and had hidden himself, had peeked in the window when Moncrieffe followed her into her house. He matched her story with every detail, and Kerrys stomach lurched with the telling of it, sickened by the knowledge that he had seen such animal behavior.

What did you do when she shot him? the justice asked.

Willie colored, looked at his scruffed boots. I I hid for a time, milord. And then I went inside, I did, to look at im. The poor child flushed as red as an apple. Ive naught seen a dead man, not up close, milord. I dropped the post by accident.

The justice pondered that for a moment, then asked, Do you recall what was in the post?

Willie nodded. A letter from her ma and one from the Bank of Scotland. I remember because Mrs.

McKinnon, she always looks a wee bit ill when those letters come.

The justice slowly shifted his gaze to Moncrieffe, his eyes narrowed. Thank you, Willie Keith. Youve been a good help to us, lad. It would seem, my Lord Moncrieffe, that Mr. Regiss theory is perhaps correct

This is ludicrous! Moncrieffe raged.

Justice Longcrier pushed to his full height of a little more than five feet and folded his arms across his large belly. You may think this court ludicrous, my lord, but I think that you found a way to cast out a dozen Scots so that you might farm your sheep and marry off your simple son! Unless someone here can prove otherwise, these people are to be released at once! He whipped around to one of his men.

Release them! Bring Mr. Abernathy to me forthwith! Mr. Regis, you are with me! he roared, and marched off the dais.

The crowd went wild; they were suddenly pushing toward Moncrieffe, their convictions having changed with the justices verdict. The blood drained from Moncrieffes face; he pivoted around in search of an

exit, and with his entourage, quickly followed the justice into the tower. Across the dais, Newbigging helped Thomas down, jovially slapping him on the back. Mr. Regis stood at the foot of the dais, looking a bit dazed as he stared at the door leading to the tower, finally moving.

Kerry was numb, could not seem to make her limbs move. The witness stand was jostled about as people clamored toward her, past her, wanting to reach Moncrieffe. The sudden clamp of a hand on her shoulder did not wake her from her stupor; she stood gaping at the scene, unable to believe she had been pulled back from the brink of death.

My God, my love

She crumbled then, hard against him, her legs incapable of holding her under the enormous weight of her emotions. He caught her, turned her around, covered her grimy face in kisses. Dear God, I thought I had lost you, he murmured against her skin. I was so certain that I had!

The noise in the hall seemed to recede to a distance; she could hear nothing but his voice, his heartbeat, feel nothing but his body, his warmth. She would do anything, she realized, to remain in his arms forever.