The Rogues (17 page)

I knew that I should at least have a prayer on my lips, but exhausted and dazed, I couldn't summon one up. I felt the edge of the cliff beneath my feet and did my best not to look down at the rocks below.

Then Rood's fingers pressed against my back, and I said farewell to my life.

Suddenly a shot banged in my ears, so loud it might have split a mountain in half.

Rood loosed his hold on me and I crumpled at his feet, scrabbling away from the ledge. At the same time, Rood wheeled about, raising his cowardly hands over his head, all the while edging nervously toward his horse.

“Get to yer horse and ride, Willie Rood!” called a mocking voice. “Try to get out of range before I can reload!”

I stopped, turned, raised myself up on one elbow as Rood darted for his horse. He scrambled into the saddle with such desperation that he almost toppled over the far side. I would have laughed if I'd the strength.

A crow laughed for me, from a nearby pine.

Digging his spurs savagely into the horse's flanks, Rood galloped off like the very devil was after him.

I sat up slowly and looked around. A figure stood on a nearby crag. Not the devil, just one of his friends—Alan Dunbar, the Rogue o' the Hills. I began to shake and then to weep. Big, blubbing tears rained down my cheeks and I couldn't stop them.

Dunbar started down toward me, the barrel of his musket resting casually on his shoulder. He hadn't even tried to reload.

Had I just exchanged one captor for another? I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs wouldn't let me. Dunbar's footfalls quickened to a run.

Soon he was kneeling over me. “Roddy Macallan,” he said, “what are ye doing here in such bad company?”

I groaned. “Do ye mean Willie Rood or yerself?” I managed, and he laughed.

The next thing I knew, he'd hefted me up onto his shoulder and marched off at a brisk pace, carrying me as easily as a soldier carries his pack. I closed my eyes, letting relief wash over me. I knew in my heart that Dunbar would not kill me. Not now.

I fancied as I drifted off that instead of killing me, he would sell me, just as he sold herds of stolen cattle. Perhaps the army would buy me for a drummer boy, and I would march into battle beating out the rhythm to keep our soldiers in step. I could actually hear the beat of the drum and wondered dreamily who was fighting.

I can hardly say I woke. Rather the fog I was lost in grew thinner. Dimly aware that I was now in a cave, I realized slowly that the drumming was actually rain falling beyond the cave entrance. And so I carried on, slipping in and out of sleep, either ablaze with fever or shivering as if buried in snow. Whenever I roused, I found a damp rag laid over my brow.

“Mother,” I cried at least once, for who but she would have taken care of me? “Ishbel,” I called another time. And then I remembered a third woman who cared for me. “Bonnie Josie,” I whispered.

The fire was lit, and there was water and bread by my bedside. But it was none of them, only Alan Dunbar, who saw me through the worst of my sickness, never leaving my side.

I had no idea how long I'd lain there in Dunbar's cave, but finally the fever burned itself out and I was only weary and weak. At last I was well enough to sit up and drink water out of a silver cup.

“Have I …,” I started, and had to clear my throat. “Have I been here awhile?”

“Aye, lad, near five days.” Dunbar set the back of his weathered hand against my cheek and nodded. “Ye're through it now, though,” he said. “In a couple of days ye'll be dancing a jig and chasing the lassies again.”

I took a deep breath and got my first clear, un-fevered look at his hideout. The cave was only a bit snugger than our old cottage and the fire placed so that the smoke went up a crudely fashioned chimney. Animal skins hung on the walls, part decoration and part to warm up the cold stone. Deerskin, mostly, but I saw a badger skin and two fox skins as well, their tails hanging down, the red well faded. Whisky jugs clustered together in a corner. And a cupboard made of rocks piled on rocks held his meager clothes and a cloth-covered cheese and three round breads.

Now that I could think more clearly, I began fitting my jumbled memories back together. The thing that stood out the most was that I owed my life to the Rogue.

“I have to thank ye, Alan Dunbar,” I said. “If not for ye, I'd have been broken on the stones below that ledge, and that's sure.”

Dunbar took a draw on his pipe and let the smoke slip through his lips in a thin ribbon. “Aye, ye would have been gone, no doubt of it.”

I nodded, waiting to hear the rest.

He smiled, and for the first time I realized he was a handsome man. His thick brown hair was pulled back from his face, and his cheeks had a chiseled look as if worry and weariness had filed him down. Yet there were laugh lines in the corners of his eyes.

“I was out about my business,” he said, not mentioning what that business might be, but I guessed I knew. “And who should I spy but the factor himself, riding along with somebody slung over his saddle.” He leaned forward. “I knew that wasna right.”

I nodded. “No right at all.”

He continued. “At first I thought ye were already dead and he was just getting rid of the body. Still, I reckoned it worth following, just for the chance to make some trouble. I was surprised to see ye still alive.”

“It's still surprising me,” I said with a weak grin.

“Where's yer family, lad?” he asked. “I'll not believe they ran off without ye.”

I reached for the silver cup again and took a sip before answering. “Gone to Glasgow. They plan to take a ship to the Americas.”

Dunbar raised an eyebrow. “Then what brought ye back here?”

My stomach quivered at that question. For all that he had saved my life, this was still the Rogue o' the Hills. If I told him about the Blessing, he'd likely try to steal it for himself.

“I dinna care to go to America,” I lied. “I hear it's full of savages and wild beasts.”

“Is
that
what ye hear?” He threw back his head and laughed. Then he looked straight at me. “Those stories dinna bother yer father or brother, then?”

He'd known at once it was a lie. I drank a bit more water instead of answering. Then I changed the subject.

“Have Rood and his men come looking for me?”

“It's hard to judge,” said Dunbar, rubbing his jaw. “The laird's laddies are scouring the hills, gathering stray animals from the crofts they've burned. Who's to say some of them aren't after a different quarry? Maybe ye. Maybe me.”

“Then …” I looked around the cave. “Are we safe here?”

“As long as I keep one sharp eye open, lad. It's nae easy to climb to this spot less ye know the path, and I keep that well hid. I only set the fire after dark so the smoke is hid as well. But what makes ye so blessed important that Rood wants ye dead?”

My mouth sagged soundlessly as I tried to think of a way to steer him from the truth. “It's no just Rood. It's the laird too. He's angry with me for … for visiting Bonnie Josie.”

Dunbar shook his head slowly. “That's a poor enough reason for murder, even for that poison-hearted pair. Unless I miss my mark, there's more to this tale than ye're telling.”

When I made no answer, he looked at me closely. “There has to be another reason.” He leaned back against the wall and said casually, “Did ye steal some coins from his purse?”

“I'm nae thief!” I answered hotly.

He chuckled and pointed to the silver cup. “Well, I am!” Then he pointed a finger at me. “I knew ye'd nothing of value on ye. I checked. So whatever Willie Rood thought about ye holding out on the laird …” His finger went to his lips, and he took a moment before speaking again.

I said hotly, “Ye were eavesdropping.”

He laughed loudly. “Of
course
I was eavesdropping. How else to know whether to save yer life at the risk of mine? So what
is
it ye've held out?”

I clamped my lips together.

“All right, lad, we'll do this the hard way. I'll guess, and ye refuse to answer. But I'll figure it out in the end. Now I'm thinking that whatever it is, ye might have hidden it elsewhere. Perhaps ye can tell that.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “After all, ye surely owe me something for the service of saving yer life, especially now I've fallen on hard times.”

I couldn't stop myself. I sat up straight and asked, “Hard times? How did that happen?”

“Och!” Dunbar exclaimed, as if there was a bad taste in his mouth. “The laird's men were stumbling around the hills, and they came upon one of my stills. It was sheer luck, mind, for it was well hid.” He took another puff on his pipe. When he spoke again, his voice had a hard edge to it. “They smashed it to bits, though not before they helped themselves to the last of the whisky. Aye, with only a single still and few customers left in the glen, it promises to be a lean year for me.”

With all the suffering I'd seen, it was hard to feel sorry for him. And he certainly didn't sound as if his spirits were down. “I'm sure ye'll get by,” I said. “There's always food for foxes, no matter the season.”

He laughed at that, a rich laugh I couldn't help but fall in with, even though it pained my belly.

“Ye'll do, lad,” he said after a bit. “Ye'll surely do.”

18 ROGUE'S APPRENTICE

That evening, clearheaded at last, I started to think about my situation and what I was going to do. Managing to stand shakily, I headed toward the cave opening. I barely got outside before weakness overcame me, and I sat down heavily on a nearby rock to let the fresh air work its healing magic.

Dunbar wasn't anywhere around.

Probably off stealing something
. That didn't bother me as much as it should have.
When good men are pushed off their land by highborn thieves
, I thought, the idea new to me,
what can we do but fight back the same way
?

I looked around carefully. Dunbar's cave was in a hollow on the high side of a hill, as if a giant had pressed his thumb into the hillside, leaving a huge dent. Ahead of me a mossy crag jutted up into the air, keeping the cave's entrance hidden from view. There were high trees, some growing right out of the rock, which further disguised the place.

A thrush was singing in a tree to the right of the cave, the little trills and rills so beautiful I had to smile. But that smile didn't last long because I began to think about my family and where they might be now.

I didn't know how Da and Ishbel had reacted to my running off, but I could surely guess. Swearing at my stupidity, Da probably vowed to follow me. As for Ishbel—well, she cried and said that then she'd lose us both. Still, I hoped Lachlan was keeping them moving on toward Glasgow and the harbors. And I hoped he was promising them I'd show up in plenty of time to go off to the Americas with them.

I would have caught up to them if not for my fever. Had I passed that fever to any of them before I left? I hoped not. They had a long way to go without such a burden.

But with the Blessing now in the laird's slimy hands, what good would my catching up to them have done? What I needed to do was to get it back.
Go to Kindarry House and steal it back
, I told myself.
Ye found the Blessing once, ye can find it again
.

But Kindarry House was no ruined cottage that I could search at the hour of my choosing. There would be servants in and out all the time, more than at Josie's Lodge. And so many rooms, I'd need days to go through them all.

I put my head in my hands. It would take a better thief than me to get the Blessing back.

Then it came to me: it
would take a rogue like Alan Dunbar
.

The gloaming closed in, bringing darkness to the mountain. Still, I remained outside, back against the cave's cold stone, thinking:
How can I gain Dunbar's help without letting him know what's at stake
? I didn't dare tell him about the Blessing, for then he could take it from me as easily as the laird had.

Secrets inside of secrets
, I thought.
And me never good with a lie
.

But I had to try. And with that thought in my mind—only the flimsiest of plans—I stood up, steadier than before, for the fresh air had done its work well. Then I made my way back into the cave and immediately fell asleep.

The next morning I felt stronger. Clambering out from under the woolen cover Dunbar had laid over me, I got stiffly to my feet. Then I stretched the knots out of my back before heading outside once more.

Dunbar sat on a nearby rock, chewing a wad of tobacco and whittling a piece of wood into a stake for one of his rabbit snares. He was dressed in a kilt, a shirt, and a vest of deerskin, with a rabbit's fur bonnet perched upon his head. When he heard me, he looked up and gave an approving nod. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Lazarus.”

I knew that story from kirk, and it suddenly crossed my mind that he meant I really
had
been dead for a while and, under his healing hand, risen again. Then I noticed his thin smile and knew he was only joking. I swayed for a moment before finding my balance. Above, the same thrush was caroling away, and blackbirds were calling from the trees far below.

“I've too much to do to stay dead,” I said.

“As ye say.” Dunbar spat on the shriveled grass. “Rest one more day, then. Tomorrow I'll give ye a pack of food and ye can be on yer way.”

But I couldn't let him push me out. I had to get the Blessing first, and to do that, I had to enlist Dunbar's aid. Somehow …

“Where to?” I challenged. “There's nae place for me to go.”

“Go after yer family,” Dunbar told me sternly. “In Glasgow. That's yer only duty.”

“They'll have sailed for America before I get there. Let me stay. I'll do fine right here.” I hoped I didn't blush at the bald lie. It was my only plan, this begging to stay with the Rogue, and I had to stick to it.