The Rogues (25 page)

Rood rubbed his cheek ruefully, his voice an angry rumble. “I'll not be led to the trough without taking a drink!” he declared. He stretched out his beefy hands to grab Josie, but before he could seize her, the butt of a musket cracked against his skull.

He dropped like a sack of neeps.

As if from nowhere, Alan Dunbar had risen out of the shadows like an avenging spirit. He stood over the factor, his eyes ablaze with righteous anger. In the moonlight I could see that his knuckles stood out white where he gripped the barrel of his gun.

For a moment Josie stared at Rood, who lay groaning on the ground. Then she gathered her wits and faced Dunbar squarely.

“Who are you to be so bold?” she asked, sounding affronted. “I asked for none of your help!”

Dunbar hesitated before realizing he still had his part to play. “Ye've had it anyway,” he answered harshly. “And since yer so ungracious about it, I'll take some payment for my trouble.” He reached toward her. “That wee brooch should cover it nicely.”

“This is my uncle's property,” Josie said, placing a hand over the Blessing, “and I'll not let some vagabond have it.”

“I'm a vagabond with a gun,” said Dunbar, brandishing the musket. Brushing Josie's hand aside, he tore the brooch from her dress and cast an appraising eye over it.

Rood started to push himself up, but Dunbar placed his boot on the factor's back and pushed him down again. “I've heard tell of a bauble such as this,” he said to Rood. “The tale is that ye and yer master stole it from a sick boy, then tried to murder him to cover yer tracks.”

“What do you mean?” cried Bonnie Josie, as if she'd never heard the story from my own lips.

“Nobody will believe yer lies, Dunbar,” Rood grunted, making a grab for Dunbar's leg, but he came short by a hand's length and Dunbar kicked him in the rump, driving his face into a prickery rosebush.

“Well, now that this trinket is out of yer hands, Rood,” said the Rogue, “I reckon there's means by which its true owners might be identified, should the need ever arise. And if the story came out, it would do little for yer prospects or those of that weasel ye serve.”

More playacting, I guessed, since Dunbar had already told me that the magistrate was in the laird's pocket.

From the safety of the ground, Rood cried out, “Fool! It'll take more than stories to keep ye safe, ye worthless lout.” Then he moaned. “Did ye no hear the garrison's already on the march from Fort William? The laird's summoned them to round up ye and any others that are living off his land without his leave. Ye're all to be transported to a prison colony.”

Dunbar's hand clenched around the brooch.

“Aye, that's given ye pause,” said Rood, speaking still into the bush. “By morning the whole country will be crawling with redcoats.” Slowly he turned over to glare at Dunbar.

Dunbar slid the Blessing into his pocket and loomed menacingly over Rood, pointing the barrel of the musket straight into his face. “If ye'd like to be alive to hear tidings of my fate, ye'll lie right there and not stir till I'm long gone.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Rood,” Josie simpered, “do lie still. He has a murderous look about him.”

Rood lay still, though his eyes remained fixed on Dunbar's gun.

The Rogue tipped his hat to Josie as if he'd been making a social call, and she gave him a quick nod. With that, he turned and strode off into the darkness.

Suddenly Rood leapt to his feet, knocking Josie rudely aside as he did so. The instant he reached inside his coat, I knew what he had hidden there. I burst out of hiding and ran to stop him, but there was no time.

“Alan!” Josie screamed as Rood drew a pistol and cocked it.

“This time I'm ready for ye, ye brigand!” the factor barked.

At Josie's cry, Dunbar wheeled about on his heel and brought the musket to his shoulder. With only a split second to aim, he pulled the trigger and both shots went off like echoes of each other.

26 THE FLIGHT

Rood crumpled to the ground and lay on his back unmoving, his eyes staring up vacantly. Blood gushed from a hole in his chest, staining his waistcoat, trailing down his sides. Meanwhile Alan was staggering as if he'd been punched.

Pressing her hand hard against her mouth, Josie trembled, looking like someone seized by a sudden chill. “Alan!” she said. “Are you hurt?”

Dunbar touched a finger to his left shoulder and dabbed at the blood trickling there. “He's made a hole in my jerkin and tore some skin from my arm, but nothing worse than that.” Narrowing his eyes at me, he asked, “Well, why are ye standing about? Ye're meant to have got us a horse.”

“There's a horse waiting,” I told him. “Dinna ye doubt it.”

We both bent over Rood. There was no question but that he was dead. I'd thought I'd be glad of such a sight, but instead it made me feel sick, like we'd done a shameful thing. My stomach turned over, and I feared I might throw up.

“I never looked for this,” said Dunbar grimly. “The devil take him for drawing on my back!”

“It's my fault,” said Josie. “It was me dragged you into this.”

“What's done is done,” Dunbar told her, “and there's none to be blamed but the fool himself. He'd have killed me over a bauble.”

Over more than a bauble
, I wanted to say. But whether I meant the Blessing or Bonnie Josie, I didn't really know.

As Dunbar spoke, his eyes flicked nervously about, but so far there was no sign that an alarm had been raised. That the two shots had sounded as one bought us a small amount of time. That and the fact that the whole household was more concerned with drinking and dancing than anything happening outside.

Josie gave Dunbar a push. “Run!” she said. “Run quickly and I'll cover for you as best I can.”

“But what's to happen to ye?” I asked, shocked at the turn of events. “We never meant to leave ye with a dead body.”

“There's nothing can be proved against me,” Josie answered calmly. “As soon as I can, I'll go to my mother's kin in Ardmussen. They'll give me shelter till I move on.”

“Ardmussen,” Dunbar repeated. He leaned close to Josie. “Wait for me there. Promise ye will.”

“I'll promise you anything if you'll just go,” Josie urged desperately.

Lamplight flared close to one of the upper windows. It had been flung wide open, and I saw the face of a maid gaping down at us. Josie saw her too and whispered, “Annie Dayton! Always where she shouldn't be.” She gave Dunbar another push, this one rough and almost angry.

The window flew open and Annie Dayton screamed loud enough to stir the graveyard.

“Hit me!” Josie said to Dunbar. “Go on! You're meant to be robbing me!”

He hesitated only a second, then gave her a shove back that knocked her into a black currant bush.

“Come on!” he ordered me, setting off at a lanky run.

Mounting the wall in one bound, he leapt off the other side. I scrambled after him and we raced for the stables. A figure appeared by the stable door and wandered into our way.

“That's Old Dougal,” Dunbar said to me, his voice low. “One of the laird's servants and a good customer of mine. He's harmless.”

Dunbar ran straight to him, and I saw him pull something out of his coat. For a moment it shone in the moonlight.

“No!” I yelled, thinking he had drawn his dirk. Then I saw it was only a whisky flask.

“Alan Dunbar!” Dougal exclaimed in a drawl. I guessed he'd already helped himself to some of the laird's store. “What's afoot here, man?”

Dunbar pressed the flask into the old man's hands. “Here's a helping of my best liquor,” he said, “if ye'll just play dead like I knocked ye out.”

Dougal grinned as he stuffed the flask into his jerkin. Then he slid to the ground and curled up with his eyes tight shut and lay still as a dead man.

Dunbar and I ran on, and I was relieved to find the horse still where I'd left her. Dougal might have already come upon her and taken her back to her stall.

Now there were shouts from the direction of the house. The servants, having made free with whatever drink they could lay hands on, were reeling about in all directions, tripping over one another. The guests were just as drunk, some of them even laughing at the uproar. Above them all, I could hear Bonnie Josie, crying out and, I hoped, pointing in the other direction.

Dunbar untethered the horse and swung himself into the saddle. Offering me his hand, he pulled me up behind him.

“They'll chase killers harder than thieves,” I said as I wrapped my arms tight about his waist.

“Aye, but Josie will set them on the wrong track if she can,” said Dunbar. “So let's make the best of the lead we have.”

With that he set his heels to the horse and we shot off into the night. I had never ridden so fast and had to cling around his waist desperately as we galloped for the westbound road.

At first I was reeling from all that had happened and too intent on keeping hold of Dunbar to give any thought to where we might be going. Overhead the clouds flitted across the quarter moon like fluttering curtains, now hiding us, now letting the moon pick us out along the road.

We rode a good ways, both intent on the road and staying on the horse. There was neither time nor energy for talk.

Once we'd put a good distance between us and the house, we slowed so as not to exhaust our mount.

Dunbar threw back his head and let out a peal of relieved laughter. “That's as narrow an escape as ever I made!” he declared.

“I didn't know a horse could run so fast,” I gasped, then echoed his laugh.
What a man
, I thought.
What a rogue
! He'd never hesitated, and here we were with the Blessing in hand.

“Ye picked a fine beast, lad,” Dunbar said, patting the mare's neck. “She'll last the course, sure enough.”

I glowed under his praise. “So are we headed for Glasgow now?” I had no idea which way that was, for the moon was behind the clouds and we were on a road I'd never seen before.

“That's where ye're bound eventually,” Dunbar replied, “but first I've a wee stop of my own in mind. After that we'll go our separate ways.”

Now I was confused. “What are ye talking about?”

Dunbar gave the horse a prod with his heel to keep her trotting. “I've no time for traipsing about the country seeking yer family. I know where we can turn this brooch into coin. We'll split the money, then ye can go where ye please. That way, the brooch canna be lost again and ye'll be on yer way.”

“No!” I said vehemently. “It'll not be sold to swell
yer
purse. I'll take it to my da and let him decide.”

Dunbar swiveled around and stared at me. “Think, laddie, think. Yer da could already be on a boat to America or even dead for all ye know.” He looked disgusted. “Ye're letting sentiment blind ye, and that's a bad weakness for men on the run.”

My anger brought a surge of bile into my throat. I remembered the pocket Dunbar had slipped the Blessing into, and before he could stop me, I plunged my hand in and grabbed it up.

“Let go of that, ye dog!” Dunbar exclaimed. He reached back for my arm and we struggled, still sitting on the horse.

Though he was bigger and stronger than me, he had to twist around in the saddle and could not get a good hold. Instead he just pushed me off balance and I fell to the ground. The wind was knocked out of me as I rolled across the turf, but I jumped up, gasping. As I rose, a startled rabbit bolted away from me.

Gripping the Blessing tightly, I started for the cover of some trees, running as swiftly as the rabbit had. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw Dunbar had turned the horse around and was bearing down on me like a hawk on a sparrow.

I worked my legs hard, but he caught up and swerved around in front of me so suddenly, I fell backward dodging the animal's hooves. Before I could get up again, Dunbar had jumped from the saddle and pinned me down under his foot. I tried to struggle free, but he drew his dirk and fixed me with a ruthless stare.

“Leave off yer stubbornness now,” he warned, “while I've yet a drop of mercy left in me.”

With his boot planted firmly on my chest, I could only watch helplessly as he tugged the Blessing from my fingers and returned it to his pocket. Sheathing his dirk, he let me free and watched while I got slowly to my feet. I kept my distance from him, rubbing the spot where his boot had bruised my ribs.

Dunbar climbed back into the saddle and looked down darkly.

“Ye'll be running off now to save yer skin,” I said.

“I'd as soon leave ye here, troublesome whelp that ye are,” he said, “but I doubt Josie would forgive me that.”

“I thought nobody's forgiveness counted with ye.”

“Then ye've judged me wrong again. Have we not been partners these past days? Should we not be saving our anger for the laird?”

I didn't want to admit it and just hung my head.

“Here's my offer, then,” said Dunbar, stretching his arms down toward me. “Ye can hold to your stiff-necked pride and stay here to be hanged, or ye can promise me no more tricks and I'll do my best to get us both away safe.”

I had half a mind to try to drag him down, but I knew it would be foolish. I had to forget our quarrel for the present or I'd be undoing all we'd achieved. The horse stamped the grass impatiently and gave me a warning look. Hesitantly I reached out to take the Rogue's hand.

“Give me yer promise,” he said.

“Aye, I promise,” I answered, not meeting his gaze.

Dunbar gave a nod and pulled me up behind him. “I hope this faffing about hasn't cost us,” he muttered as we rode off.

We soon hit the main road, one the English had built after Bonnie Prince Charlie's rebellion. They reckoned if their troops had good roads to march on, they could move swiftly to crush any fresh trouble in the Highlands.
If all the Highlands were going the way of Glendoun and Dunraw
, I thought,
there will soon be no one left here to trouble the English at all
.