Just like Shaw had known would happen, as soon as they entered The Broken Goat Tavern, Leod made a beeline across the room, heading for Old Callum MacKeefe and his Mountain Magic.
Shaw dug a coin out of his sporran and handed it to the guard at the door. The guard bounced it on a board to make certain it was real.
Shaw hesitantly followed his brother into the dark and smelly, dimly lit room. Why did he feel he would regret ever agreeing to accompany Leod here?
“Callum MacKeefe, word around these parts is that ye brought with ye some of yer famous Mountain Magic,” said Leod, taking a seat at the table across from him. Callum was one of the oldest men Shaw knew. He should probably be dead by now, but something about his brew must have kept him alive. His long, gray beard hung down his chest, disappearing behind the table.
“Leod! Shaw!” Callum raised a tankard in the air. “I’m so happy ye could join us.” Next to him was the dark-haired and much younger, Ian MacKeefe, with his large wolfhound next to him. The dog was so tall that it had no trouble licking something off the table. On the other side of Callum was Reed. Across from Reed was the man who had raised the bastard triplets - Ross Douglas.
“Reed? Ye are here, too?” asked Shaw, surprised to see him.
“Shaw, Leod.” Reed got up and greeted them.
When they all sat back down, Callum raised his hand and called to a serving wench. “Bring some Mountain Magic for all my friends.”
“Aye,” said the woman, hurrying over the soiled rushes toward the drink board. Tallow candles lit the small room, smelling like animal fat as they burned. With the scent of the candles mixed with the stench of alcohol and sweaty bodies, Shaw suddenly remembered another reason why he’d stopped coming here.
“Shaw and Leod, do ye ken Ian MacKeefe?” asked Callum, nodding to the dark-haired man next to him. He wore the same purple and green plaid as Callum.
“Ian MacKeefe is yer son’s name, and this man looks more like yer grandson,” said Leod, reaching out and pushing the dog’s nose away from him.
Callum laughed and wheezed. “Nay, this isna my son or my grandson. He is another Ian of the clan. He married Kyla, his best friend.”
“I remember,” said Shaw. “Last time I heard, Kyla was pregnant with yer first baby.”
“First?” Ian lifted his tankard, took a sip and continued to talk. “She’s home with two of our bairns now and ready to pop with another one any day. She’s hopin’ for a lass this time since we already have two lads. However, I’m secretly hopin’ for another boy.”
“Are ye still livin’ at the MacKeefe camp?” asked Shaw, picking up a tankard the serving wench laid in front of him.
“Most of my time is spent with the MacTavishes now since I’m sharin’ the title of laird,” said Ian. “Since I found out my faither was a MacTavish, I actually go by the name of Ian MacTavish now. That way, I willna be confused with Callum’s son who is the laird of the MacKeefe Clan.”
“Nonsense,” spat Callum. “Ye’re a MacKeefe and always will be.”
Shaw agreed with Callum, knowing that Ian would always be a MacKeefe in his heart. He’d grown up with his two best friends, Onyx and Aidan, and they’d been so crazy and fearless that they’d earned the title of the Madmen MacKeefe. Shaw chuckled inwardly to see that Ian still wore the MacKeefe plaid although he called himself a MacTavish. Once a man’s heart is devoted to his clan, not even a woman can make him change his undying devotion to his roots.
“What are ye and Callum doin’ so far north?” asked Leod. He took the tankard from the serving wench and pinched her on her bottom. Her eyes opened wide and she slapped Leod across the face before she stormed away.
Shaw laughed. “Brathair, I dinna think that one was a hoor. Ye’d better be more careful.”
“The proprietor got rid of all the hoors,” Reed told them. “He’s tryin’ to clean up the place and make it more family-friendly.”
“No hoors?” Disappointment darkened Leod’s face as he downed some more Mountain Magic. “Mayhap we should find another tavern.” He started to get up, but Shaw’s hand on his arm kept him there.
“Relax, Leod. We’re amongst friends. Keep yer mind on the conversation instead.”
“We’re just passin’ through,” Ian told them. “Callum has been sellin’ his Mountain Magic to local taverns. We’re headed to the MacTavish Clan to be with Kyla next since she is goin’ to be birthin’ the bairn soon.”
“I always say, a little of my Mountain Magic on the gums keeps one from cryin’ out.” Callum chuckled, sounding like an old goat.
“Kyla is immune to Mountain Magic,” Ian reminded him. “She’s the only lassie I ken who can drink the stuff and stay standin’ afterward.”
“I wasna talkin’ about Kyla,” said Callum with a wave of his hand. “I’m talkin’ about the bairn that’s comin’. This stuff will keep it quiet.” He held up his tankard and the men all laughed.
“Shaw, I told Ross about Spring,” said Reed.
Shaw’s stomach tightened. “What about her?”
“I told him that she might be his daughter that was stolen as a bairn,” said Reed.
Shaw relaxed. Somehow, he was thinking gossip had already spread that Spring was acting odd lately.
“We’re comin’ to see her,” said Ross. Ross was a tall redhead, like Reed. He had married Annalyse and, together with his wife, they raised King Edward’s bastard triplets as their own, once Annalyse’s sister died in childbirth. “I’m no’ sure I’d remember her, she was so young at the time she was taken from us.”
“Reed,” said Shaw, shaking his head. “We dinna even ken if it’s her. Dinna get yer hopes up. Spring insists she is a descendant of Vikings and has a family and even two brathairs.”
“Two brathairs?” Ross perked up. “There were also two boys stolen from our clan the same day that Spring disappeared. We searched everywhere but were never able to find them.”
“I have no idea how ye’ll convince Spring if ye really think it is her,” said Shaw. “What if ye canna identify her?”
“I dinna ken.” Ross shook his head. “Annalyse would ken our daughter, I’m sure she would. But I dinna want to tell her about it until we are certain. She’s had such a rough life and almost didna have more children since she was so devastated when our daughter was stolen.”
“Well, ye’re welcome to come to my castle,” said Shaw. “But even if Spring is yer long-lost daughter, ye willna ken her. She’s been raised as a hardened warrior. Ye might no’ want her when ye see the change.”
“How can ye say that?” asked Ross, looking over the top of his tankard. “Parents will always accept their child no matter how much they’ve changed. Besides, ye married her. Do ye really think she is that bad?”
Shaw didn’t know how to answer. One day he didn’t trust her, and the next day he did. Sometimes, she was like a hardened, emotionless warrior, and other days she was soft and gentle and so good with his children. Instead of saying anything, he did what Spring would do. He stayed silent.
Ian’s hound growled lowly when the door to the tavern opened behind them.
“Take it easy, boy,” said Ian, holding on to his wolfhound. “We dinna want trouble.”
“Gordon! Just the man I want to see,” came a voice from the door.
“I think trouble has arrived,” mumbled Shaw, turning to see Cromwell and his lackeys enter the room. “Time to go,” he told Leod, getting out of his chair.
“Leavin’ so soon?” asked the man next to Cromwell that had been at the wedding. Shaw remembered his name was Gawl. He also saw both of Spring’s brothers amongst the men. “If we had kent ye’d be here, we could have invited the lassies and made it a party.”
“What do ye want, Cromwell?” Shaw asked through gritted teeth. The rest of the men at the table stood, just in case there would be trouble. Only Old Callum remained seated.
“How about some of the old man’s Mountain Magic?” asked Cromwell. “I’ve never had any but hear it’s pretty good.”
“It’s too good for the likes of ye,” said Leod. “Ye’re no’ gettin’ any.”
“On the contrary, Leod, I think Cromwell should have some,” said Shaw, filling up a tankard and handing it to the man.
Cromwell was about to drink but became suspicious. “Are no’ ye havin’ some?” he asked.
“I already have had some,” said Shaw.
“Have some more. I dinna like to drink alone.”
“I’ll have some,” said Gawl, reaching for a tankard on the table. Cromwell slapped his hand.
“Mind yer manners,” said Cromwell. “Now, Gordon, we need to drink a toast to Spring bein’ married to ye.”
“We’ve already done that at my castle,” said Shaw, feeling the effects of the whisky and not wanting any more.
“I’ll drink with ye,” said Leod, filling a tankard from the pitcher on the table.
“Nay, I’ll drink,” said Shaw. “Cromwell is right. We need to celebrate my marriage to his daughter.”
“Spring is yer daughter?” Ross piped up, looking like he wanted to kill the man.
“Do I ken ye?” Cromwell squinted an eye, surveying Ross.
“Nay, I dinna think so,” Shaw interrupted. He didn’t want to be talking about this here. For all he knew, the whole thing was a misunderstanding. If Cromwell heard the accusation that they thought he’d stolen a baby years ago, it would anger him, and a fight would break out.
“Let’s drink,” said Shaw, raising the tankard. He’d seen Leod only fill it halfway, while Shaw had filled Cromwell’s cup to the top.
They lifted their mugs, keeping their eyes on each other as they drank down the whisky. Shaw pretended to keep drinking although his mug was empty, just to make Cromwell finish his.
“That’s damn fine whisky.” Cromwell had a smile on his face, but then his eyes rolled back in his head. He wavered and hit the ground, unconscious.
“What happened?” shouted Gawl. “Ye poisoned his drink.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
“Take it easy,” said Callum. “He’s just no’ used to the brew. It knocked my grandson, Storm, on his ass for days one time. It takes a while to get immune to the effects.”
“Egil, Bodil, get him out of here,” Gawl commanded Spring’s brothers. “Cromwell will have our heads if he kens we let him lay on the floor with everyone watchin’.”
“Aye. We’ll take him out to the horses,” said Bodil. He and his brother picked up Cromwell and carried him outside.
“This isna the end of this,” snarled Gawl. “I promise ye that.”
“Dinna threaten me,” said Shaw, with his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “Cromwell was the one who insisted on drinkin’. It’s no’ my fault if he canna handle his whisky.”
Gawl started to go, but stopped and turned back. “And by the way, I have a favor to repay yer wife from the other day.”
“What do ye mean?” asked Shaw. “Did ye see Spring?”
“I saw her when she came to the creek. She gave me somethin’ that I’d like to return.”
“What’s that?” asked Shaw, wondering what she could have given the man and if she’d really seen him.
“This.” Gawl’s fist shot out and punched Shaw in the jaw. He tried to move out of the way, but still got clipped and his lip split.
“Ye’ll no’ get away with that.” Shaw lunged for the man, but both Reed and Leod stopped him and held him back.
“Dinna do it, Brathair,” warned Leod. “Remember, we’ve made an alliance.”
“Mayhap Gawl needs to be reminded,” growled Shaw.
“I think it’s time for ye to leave,” said Ian, letting go of his wolfhound. “Kyle,” he called the dog by name. “Escort the Gunn Clan outta here, will ye?”
The hound looked at Ian and whined. Ian nodded. The dog turned around, growling and snapping and chasing Gawl and the rest of the Gunns out of the tavern.
Everyone laughed as they hightailed it out the door.
“Good job, boy, come back here,” said Ian, rewarding his hound by petting him on the head and giving him some of the Mountain Magic out of his tankard. The dog lapped up a little and lay on the floor, putting its head down between its paws.
Shaw tasted the coppery tang of blood on his lip, touching his mouth gently with his finger. It stung. “Ye should have let me pound the fool into the ground,” spat Shaw.
“There will be time for that later,” said Leod. “I never thought I’d be the one haulin’ home yer ass, but let’s get back to the castle, Brathair.”
“We’ll come with ye,” said Reed. “We were headed there anyway. If the Gunns give us any more trouble, ye’ll be in need of a few more hands.”
“Did ye want me to come along with my hound?” asked Ian.
“Aye, Ian’s good to have around. He didna get his name of MadMan MacKeefe for nothin’,” said old Callum with a raspy chuckle.
“Nay. Get home to yer wife,” said Shaw, thinking of the time when he stayed with his wife when she was birthing Leith. She’d almost died at the time and he was happy he’d stayed with her.
“Thanks for the Mountain Magic,” said Leod, heading toward the door. “But tell the proprietor that he needs to bring back the hoors. This place is no fun without them.”