Chapter Eleven
Iain stretched and breathed deep. It had been a week since he had been able to make love to Emily and he began to think it could be months before he got another chance. The next chance he got to make love to her he wanted to take his time, to show her all the pleasure they could share. He blamed his long spell without a woman for his speed the last time. The fact that she had been ready and found her own pleasure had been more luck than skill and that embarrassed him.
Taking another deep breath, he could now smell fall’s approach in the air. There were apples to pick and he tried to sort through his plans to find the best time for that harvest. It could be a good idea to set the women and children on that detail, he decided as he started to open the gates. Iain saw few openings for time spent alone with Emily and he sighed with regret. He suddenly paused in trying to work in some time alone with her and stared out at his lands, not sure of what he was seeing.
Then the fog of a lingering sleep cleared and he cursed. A lot of men were riding hard straight for his home. It was a small army, he thought angrily. He had the feeling that bastard after Emily and Neddy had decided more force was needed. Iain hastily closed the gate and barred it then rang the alarm bell.
In minutes his brothers were racing to his side, a couple of them still buttoning up their shirts. Iain ordered them up to posts on the walls, hearing their curses as they saw what they faced. Iain hurried up to the top of the stockade and stood next to Matthew.
“The fool has hired himself a damned army. He is wasting a lot of men,” Matthew said.
“He doesnae care. He thinks the woman and child stand between him and all he covets. Greed is what drives the bastard. E’en if he thinks they mean to live here, he just cannae take the chance. They change their mind and run back to England and he loses it all.”
Matthew calmly shot a man out of his saddle. “Where is he getting them?”
Iain shrugged as he took aim at another. “Any saloon, I would guess. He just makes it known he needs some men to rid him of a woman and a child and names the fee offered for the job. Probably went to a couple saloons to get this many. It would sound like easy money to men like these. Doubt they learned the facts of the place they had to attack until they rode up and saw it.” Iain shot the man he aimed at. “Saw a few at the back who hesitated and then turned round and left.”
“Not enough. We have to keep them from reaching the gates, Iain. We can’t shoot them easy when they get too close to the walls of the stockade, at least not without one of us exposing ourselves to a bullet, and that gives them a chance to find a way in.”
Nodding, Iain shot another man. “Then we had best shoot faster.”
“I dinnae ken why these fools think they can get in here,” Iain muttered, reloading his rifle even as the men retreated back, out of firing range.
“Aye,” agreed Matthew as he relaxed against the wall of the stockade, “I would have thought they would see it as a fort as so many others have.” He joined Iain in glaring at Robbie when he laughed.
“Sorry. I just thought on the folk that thought it was a fort at the beginning and sought a night’s shelter. They always looked so surprised to find out it was just us.” Robbie fired at a man trying to get close to the gates and watched as the man ran back toward the others. “They have now taken to staying out of range. Well, my range, as I am a poor aim the farther away a thing is.”
There was a shout from the back and several shots sounded from behind them. Iain ran to where he had placed Duncan and Nigel. He had placed them there because he had thought it would be safer than in the front. Neither Nigel nor Duncan had the stomach needed for battle. They could do what was needed but they suffered for it. Nigel was sitting down, his face pale and his mouth twisted in a grimace of pain, and Duncan was tying a bandage around his arm. Iain crouched down beside them.
“Is the bullet still in there?” he asked his brother, who was already looking less pale.
“Nay,” answered Nigel. “It just took a bit of meat off my arm. Ruined my aim. Think my bullet went into the house. I am not worried. It is much like the wound Emily got and if she can recover easily then I should be able to.”
Iain peered over the top of the stockade. There was a group of men tucked into the rocks and shadows that marked his land in so many places. It would be difficult to hit them but he suspected they could do it. Iain just did not think it a good idea to waste their ammunition in trying.
“Do ye think ye can still shoot?” he asked Nigel.
“Not well but, aye, I can hold the rifle and pull the trigger. Why?”
“Because I think they are going to make a charge at us soon. They may well have spotted our weak point.”
“We had to have a back way in, and out, Iain,” said Duncan. “Most times I forget it is there. The door blends well with the rest of the stockade fence.”
“But nay perfectly. It is barred but I am nay sure it can hold firm against a hard attack. So those men have to be kept from getting close. I need to ken that ye two lads can do that.”
Duncan and Nigel exchanged looks and then nodded firmly. Instead of hurrying around to the front, Iain went down the wall. He jogged to the house and slipped into the parlor. He cursed himself for giving in to superstition as he grabbed the scabbard and sword that had belonged to his father. It had saved him on the day his parents had died and held off danger time after time as they finished the long journey alone. It might not actually be good luck to go into battle with it, but right now he needed the strength the belief he had in it gave him.
Once back on the wall with Matthew, and assuring him that everyone was fine, Iain studied the men who had sought cover by the small hills and gullies facing their stockade. Iain had never envisioned the wall proving its worth this way but felt a certain pride in how well it was holding up. It was the land’s dark reputation of being plagued by outlaws and his fear of losing any more of his family that had made him decide they would put their home behind a stockade. The labor they had put into it while building it had been far more than he had anticipated, but they had not suffered from any sudden attack by the thieves or outlaws who called these hills home.
He looked to the side just as an arrow went sailing toward his house, the flame it carried making it easy to see. He could only hope it did not catch anything alight as he and his brothers could not leave the walls. It infuriated him that they were trying to set his house alight but then he wondered why they had not shot their arrows toward the fence. Because the women and children were in the house, he realized, and swore viciously. They wanted the fear for the others to make him and his brothers err. He tapped Matthew and pointed out the man in the tree on the side of their property. Matthew had a good eye for hitting the more hidden targets. In minutes the man was no longer a threat.
The men at the front began to move forward and Iain readied his aim. Just as he was about to shoot, the man he was aiming at screamed and fell from his horse. Iain looked beyond the now panicked group of men and grinned. The Powell brothers had come to join the fight. He patted the sword hanging on his hip. Even as he told himself it might be ridiculous superstition, he could not fully banish the sense that the sword had brought him the luck he needed yet again. Now if he could just finish this job up quickly he could check on where that arrow landed and what damage there was.
* * *
Emily let Mrs. O’Neal in the back door, her children close behind her. “I think there are a lot more men attacking than there was last time.”
“There is an army out there,” said Rory.
Mrs. O’Neal scowled at her son then looked at Emily, who had moved to lock the door. “This fool went up on the walls. Thank heavens Robbie sent him right back down.” She lightly slapped the boy on the back of the head. “I told you to never do that.” Then she looked at Emily. “That man after you and Neddy put down some hard money to get this group. If Rory calls it an army it must be a fair-sized force of men. Boy’s not one given to exaggeration.”
Emily silently cursed her sister and, at that moment, felt not the slightest pinch of guilt for doing so. “I cannot believe how foolish Annabel was. She knew Albert was out to get rid of our whole family. How could she have been so silly as to write to our mutual cousin and tell her about her son?” She shook her head. “No, I will not let all this make me speak ill of the dead. I must cease gnawing on that bone.”
Mrs. O’Neal patted her shoulder. “It is all that greedy Albert’s fault.”
Glad she had told Mrs. O’Neal the full truth as she had found keeping so many secrets hard, Emily nodded. “True. Well, we better get down to the root cellar.”
“Are you sure we have to?”
“I have no great love of root cellars, either, but it is the safest place for us. I do not think they can get through the MacEnroys and their wall but we should do all that is necessary to ensure our safety. There are a lot of bullets flying about.” The sound of a window breaking added a lot of weight to her warning.
“You are right. Come along,” Mrs. O’Neal said to her children.
Emily grabbed Neddy by the hand and followed the others down into the root cellar. Over the last few days they had done all they could to make it comfortable, putting wood and carpet on the dirt floor and a few chairs. They had also added a cache of food and drink. It had been done just in case they were attacked but no one had really anticipated this. She felt Neddy start to tremble and understood. It all brought back some frightful, painful memories for her, too. Just the smell of the earth had memories rushing to the fore but she fought them off so that she could comfort the child shaking in her arms.
“It is all right, Neddy,” she said as she sat in a rocker and held him on her lap.
“Bad men. Where Iain? The bad men will get him.”
“He is keeping those bad men away from us. He and all his brothers.”
Neddy nodded but stuck his thumb in his mouth. Emily rocked slightly, hoping to calm him but her mind was not so easy to settle. She recalled the pain of her wounds, the damp smell of dirt as she had crawled out of the root cellar. It was the race for the shelter that played out the clearest in her mind, the need to stop the bleeding of her wounds even while doing all she could to keep Neddy safe. Time had never crept by so slowly nor terror been so persistent and chilling. She did not think she could do it again.
“The lad has gone to sleep, dear,” said Mrs. O’Neal.
Glancing down at Neddy, Emily relaxed a little. Better he slept than stayed awake and terrified. She rather wished she could find that peace.
Her thoughts went to the MacEnroy brothers. They were out there fighting to keep her and Neddy alive. Guilt was a heavy stone in her belly. She should never have dragged them into her troubles. She could go for days forgetting her troubles in the warmth and friendship of living in Iain’s house and then something like this happened and she was ashamed of herself for her thoughtlessness. The MacEnroys had already suffered too much from the greed of her class. She closed her eyes and began to pray that not one of the MacEnroys paid too dearly for what they had to do to keep her and Neddy safe.
She found herself thinking of her sister again. Emily could not understand how Annabel could have broken their one firm rule, the one they had made when they had realized their parents had been murdered. Emily had worked unceasingly to uncover that dark truth and the one that had told them who was behind it but Annabel had been so slow to believe it, passionately arguing with everyone of Emily’s facts. She had always disliked Albert but Annabel had considered the man the perfect English gentleman. After the first attempt on their lives that had failed, Annabel had appeared to accept the truth and understand what it meant. The mere hint that David or her child could be killed had appeared to make her accept the rules made. It was now obvious that she had not fully accepted the dark truth and the longer they had gone without a threat the less Annabel had worried.
“I should have known better,” she muttered.
“Pardon, dear?” asked Mrs. O’Neal.
“My sister. I should have known she did not fully understand the danger she was in. It was not really in her nature to be able to do so. Perhaps she did not understand that it was a threat that would stand for a long time. Not even the possibility of her husband’s death, or her son’s, could make her fully believe Albert meant to kill us or how it could be dangerous to contact anyone in the family. She always thought he was the perfect gentleman.”
“It can be hard for some to accept when it is their own blood causing their troubles.”
“I fear that in our class, it is most often someone of our own blood.” Emily sighed over that hard truth. “She agreed, swore she understood. I know David did.”
“He was not one of your class though, was he.”
“No, he was not and I am not sure Annabel always fully understood how not like our class he was. She was a sweet woman but not always the most thoughtful of people.”
“I am sorry, dear. Sorry you had to discover that about your sister when you can’t talk it out with her, maybe finally get her to see. Sorry that it was such a silly mistake that cost you so dearly.”
“It cost her more,” Emily said quietly. “And, one reason it troubles me so is I cannot help but feel sad for David more than her. That shames me some. But, the man did not deserve what happened to him just because of who he chose to love.”
“No, he didn’t. But that part is over and done, dear, and you have to push it aside. They left a beautiful lad in your care and that is what matters now. That is what those men are fighting for out there.”
“I know. I . . .” Emily frowned and sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?” She was not sure if her memories of the last time she was stuck in a root cellar were causing her to just think she smelled it.
Mrs. O’Neal sniffed the air and then cursed. “I do. The bastards have set a fire.”
Emily handed Neddy to Mrs. O’Neal. The boy whimpered once then snuggled up against the woman and quieted. She still felt bad about the MacEnroys fighting what she considered her battle but she was damned if she would let their home be damaged or destroyed because of it.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mrs. O’Neal as she stroked Neddy’s back.
“Find the fire and put it out.”
“But the bullets . . .”
“If the MacEnroys can face them so can I. It is my enemy after all. Do not let Neddy get away from you,” she added as she headed up the stairs.
The heat of the fire was the first thing Emily noticed as she cautiously stepped out of the stairwell. She hurried to look into the kitchen, saw the fire was not burning there although a window was broken, and grabbed a bucket. Once she had filled it with water she moved down the hall. It too was not on fire but it was filled with smoke. Then she looked into the dining room and cursed. After all the work she had done, it seemed a cruel twist of fate that this was the room they had chosen to set alight.
After tossing her bucket of water on the fire she ran back in the kitchen. It was going to be hard work to quell the flames since she was the only one working with a bucket. She wrapped a damp cloth around her nose and mouth as the bucket filled with water. Finding a second one, she stuck that under the pump as well.
Going back to the dining room, she threw the water on the flames, making sure she got some on every part of the line of fire forming in front of the windows. It was diminishing and she prayed that wetting the area where it burned would keep it from flaring up in the time it took her to gather more water.
As she ran back and forth with her buckets of water, she heartily cursed men who could only fight by burning down everything around them. She was just pouring water on the flames again when a bullet smashed through one of the windows in the room. Emily wondered if they could see her efforts and tried to stop her.
Dragging the buckets behind her she did a strange crouched scramble back into the kitchen. If she had to fight the fire under a rain of bullets that would make it difficult. Yet, if she did not continue to fight the fire it could spread and take a section of the fine house Iain and his brothers had made. Emily refused to allow that to happen.
She moved as fast as she could to gather water and ignored the growing sting in her palms. Emily was determined to save as much from the fire as she could. After what seemed a very long time the fire was just smoldering and she sank against the doorframe and fought to catch her breath. When that proved a troublesome exercise due to the lingering smoke she stumbled back into the kitchen and filled her bucket, leaving the second one she had been filling behind. She went back to the doorway and leaned against it again as she watched the spot where the fire had blazed. If it showed even the tiniest spark of life she would be ready.
* * *
Ian sighed as he watched the men scattered over the land in front of him. They appeared to be giving up but he did not dare believe in that. Some were belly crawling back toward their horses but he was not sure how far they would get. The Powell brothers were proving to be lethal shots.
“We give up,” yelled one of the men, and it took Iain a moment to find him amongst the dead.
“And why should that matter to me?” he called back.
“Just let us get to our horses and we will be gone.”
“So ye can come back another time?”
“We ain’t that stupid.”
Iain was not sure of that but he was tired and there were a lot dead to deal with. He was not looking forward to all the digging. He did not think he wished to know just how many they had killed, either.
“Take your dead with ye,” he said. “And leave your guns. I dinnae see ye drop them to the ground and I will drop ye.”
“All right. All right.” The man stood up, revealing that he was wounded, and tossed his rifle and pistol to the ground.
“And dinnae forget to tell the man who hired ye that he failed. Again.”
One by one a few more did the same. They each grabbed one of the dead but by the time they were gone there were still a sizeable number on the ground. Iain continued to wait until he saw one of the Powell brothers signal him and there was no more sound of horses.
“They didnae take that many with them,” said Matthew.
“Suspect they took the ones they knew.”
“Which means we have a lot of digging to do.”
“We’ll see if we can use the plow for some of it.” He looked toward the house. “If a fire was started it seems to have gone out.”
“Bastards. Always trying to burn things.”
“They wanted us to run to the house because they kenned there were women and children inside.” Iain continued to watch the land in front of him and then shook his head. “Suspicion they are gone. We best go see how Nigel and Duncan are.”
Matthew signaled the others that the fight was over and then followed Iain. “Was one of them hurt?”
“Nigel had his arm burned by a bullet but nay more than that.”
When he saw his two younger brothers sitting and leaning up against the wall looking as exhausted as he felt, Iain breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried about them and had felt guilty about ignoring that worry as the fight had continued. So far they had been lucky in this fight but he was not sure how long that would last, especially if the man was going to keep sending an army against them.
“You lads get any more hurts?” he asked.
“Nay, we are fine,” said Duncan in a subdued voice, and knew the young man was already feeling a sickness over what he had had to do.
Looking over the wall, he saw the dead and sighed. He patted Duncan on the shoulder but had no words to give him. They had all killed today and must each sort that out in their own way. Then he realized there was at least one thing he could say that might help.
“They were here to kill a bairn, lad. Dinnae waste any grief on them.”
Duncan looked a little stronger and nodded. “That fire they tried to start didnae happen?”
“Dinnae think so but havenae gone inside yet.” He sighed. “Better get that done and then we have some burying to do.” He could almost smile as his brothers all groaned. “Come on, lad”—he helped Duncan stand—“we best get that wound seen to properly.”
He was just about to head down to the ground when he saw a man move. The man sprinted for the back door and Iain cursed as he got down from the wall as fast as he could. Obviously this man did not realize the others were dead or had quit. He moved quietly around the house and watched the man kick at the door. He knew his gun was emptied so Iain pulled the sword free of the scabbard and went after the man. He reached the back door just as the man broke it open and went inside.
His heart pounding with a fear he refused to recognize, he stepped quietly up behind the man. The man was heading right for Emily. He watched her hurl a bucket at the man and stayed back to avoid getting hit. It did not stop him for long and he started after her again.
The man staggered a little and Iain used that uncertain movement to hide the sound of his boots on the hard floor. He could see Emily trying to find something to use against the man and Iain stopped closer, readying his sword. Then he thrust the blade into the man so hard and deep his hand bumped up against the man’s back. He felt a twinge of horror when the man just hung there on the point of his sword and tried to pull it back. When it did not come out as easily as it had gone in, he placed a foot on the man’s backside and shoved his body forward.
When the dead man fell to the floor he saw Emily’s face and almost swore. He was not sure his saving her life was going to make her accept what he had just done. One thing his father had never told him was how gruesome a death one could cause with a sword.