Highland Song (3 page)

"Looks that way," Aaron agreed.

"You know her?"

"Not until tonight. Never seen her before." That much, at least, was the truth.

Jericho grunted. "Just as well, a man would have to be crazy to turn his back on that girl. She's as cunning as a fox."

Aaron said nothing.

Jericho fell silent. It was Aaron’s deadly wielding of his sword which convinced Jericho to keep his mouth shut.

Without looking away from Jericho, Aaron sized up the men remaining in the tavern. Rory and Bear were dead. Red stood next to a table in the back of the room, shifting from foot to foot.

"You know those two very well?" Aaron asked.

"Met Rory two nights ago when he brought me the news of the MacPherson lass. Told me about the bounty. Never seen that other one before tonight."

"But you were working together."

"No," Jericho corrected, "They were working for me."

Aaron’s smile was cutting.

"Well, you’ll have to find some new men to work for you. These two wouldn’t have been useful. They’re too stupid."

Aaron quickly searched the room. He counted and studied the remaining men. Two were drifters. The other three were part of Jericho’s gang. Once they had been English soldiers. Now they had turned ruffians and mercenaries. All of them were being careful not to give Aaron a reason to fight.

"Might your name be Aaron Slade?" Jericho asked.

"It is."

A hushed sound traveled through the men in the saloon. As a unit, they eased backward, giving Aaron all the space he might want then more as if they just wanted to make sure they were safe.

The only movement Jericho made was to shrug his shoulders as though a private guess had been confirmed.

"Thought as much," he said. "Only a few men can move that fast and throw with such deadly accuracy. Might you be looking for a job? Wouldn't mind having you ride by my side."

Jericho paused then asked with real interest, "Is that Englishman you fought a while back still hunting for you? The one with a patch over one eye? The man they call Black Rogue?"

"No."

"Too bad. Hear he’s a cutthroat that’s damn hard to beat."

Aaron grinned. "You heard right."

"Did your dirk find his heart?" Jericho asked. "Is that why he isn’t still looking for you?"

"We had a simple disagreement. We solved it." Aaron shrugged his shoulders, his eyes still focused on Jericho and the remaining men in the room.

"Is he still alive?" Jericho asked too eagerly.

"He's alive if he can breathe at the bottom of the ocean. Pity you weren’t on your brother’s ship when it went down off the Carolina coast."

Jericho went very still. "You were on that damn pirate ship, the third one. The one that sunk Jethro’s ship."

Though it wasn’t a question, Aaron nodded. "I was there. It was a damn good fight. Whole
lot of folks are
sleeping more easy now that old Jethro, excuse me, the Black Rogue, is at the bottom of the Atlantic."

Jericho’s face went still and hard.

"Lie down on the floor, boys," Aaron spoke with deadly calm. "I’m feeling a bit nervous right now, so don’t do anything to startle me. You might not like the consequences."

There was a muted sound as the men in the tavern went face down on the floor. Aaron quickly walked among them, gathering weapons. As he worked, he kept an eye on Jericho, whose right hand was inching toward the middle of his belt buckle.

"After I gather everything up," Aaron said casually. "I’m going to wait outside the door for a while before I ride on. Whenever you feel lucky, you just lift your head and see if I’m still around."

None of the men seemed in a hurry to take Aaron’s offer.

"Jericho, I’ve heard tale about a little dirk you keep behind your buckle," Aaron said. "Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. Now, I’d hate to kill an unarmed man, but not as bad as I’d hate to take a knife in the back by a dirty cutthroat who rapes women and cheats his own men."

Jericho’s hand stopped moving.

Aaron walked through the tavern, picking up weapons and tucking what he could into his belt and boot tops. Then he left the tavern behind, intending to find the little gal who General Bertram wanted with a vengeance. He was becoming more curious about Lainie MacPherson than he wanted to admit.

When several minutes had passed, one of the men eased his face off the floor and looked around.

"He’s gone," said the man.

"Check the trail," said Jericho.

"Check it yourself."

By the time one of Jericho’s men got up the nerve to check outside the tavern, Aaron was a long ways down the trail, riding at a dead run as he hightailed it after a lass called
Lainie
MacPherson.

Chapter Two

Gypsy’s hooves thundered beneath her. Wind whistled around her ears, and the cold of the night seeped into her bones, chilling her through. Tremors of fear swept down her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach.

“What on earth have I done now?” Lainie muttered to herself, bending closer to her mare’s neck, hoping the biting chill wouldn’t be quite so bad.

Several miles passed. Lainie was sure she’d left the handsome, dark haired stranger as well as Jericho behind. She looked for the fork in the road, the one that would take her home to MacPherson lands, but she must have misjudged the distance because she couldn't find the fork. Lainie pulled Gypsy back to a slower pace.

All Lainie saw in front of her were dense trees reaching to a velvet black sky. A soft mist began to fall and Lainie cursed the weather, not because of the mist but because of the tracks she would leave for anyone with an inclination to follow her. She sent Gypsy into the trees hoping the leaves and needles would be a guard against her tracks, but she knew anyone experienced in tracking could pick up her trail with little effort.

The path wound side by side with a river. If she didn’t know the precise place to cross, only luck would give away the narrow footbridge that stretched across a deep ravine. She knew this area well, and so she made straight for the bridge.

No one lived in this wilderness. There were no small cottages, no tiny settlements, no nearby castles or churches to take refuge from the inclement weather. All Lainie could hear above the sound of Gypsy’s labored breathing was the finely tuned whistling of the wind through the treetops. A slender moon shrouded by the mist hung in the sky casting little light on the trail she skirted.

Lainie still hoped for a good hard rain to hide her tracks, but she didn’t know if she was going to be lucky. Rain, mist, dense fog, all came and went in the highlands. However, she wasn’t in the highlands yet.

"Sorry, Gypsy girl, I know you're tired but we can’t stop here."

She moved through the dense foliage. Then easing a little toward the trail, she watched the road behind her, hoping she wouldn’t see anyone.

No one was about.

No sound of hooves or men could be heard.

She traveled north. That much she was sure of, but she was also sure she should have passed the fork in the road. She wanted to see MacPherson land once more. She wanted to feel safe and protected.

She had promised herself this was the last thievery she would do for the cause. The English seemed to be closing in around her. This had been too close. The unease prickled down her spine.

Anxiously, she turned and looked over her shoulder at the back trail. Behind her the path vanished into the trees, the dim moonlight casting few shadows and the swirling mist making the shadows dance until everything was blurred into skittering shapes.

"Sweet Jesu," she muttered. "I can’t tell whether that’s men or deer or wild horses or something else entirely." For a few nervous seconds, her heart thundered and her pulse pounded in her temples. She breathed in deeply, hoping to calm herself.

Lainie’s instincts took over. A huge lump of terror stuck in her throat, she kicked Gypsy into a canter. She wanted to go at a fast gallop, but she’d already ridden the mare hard and the terrain they were riding over was too rough. If she ran Gypsy any harder, the horse would come up lame by sunrise.

"Come on, Gypsy girl, we can do this," she whispered close to the mare's ear.

The hooves made a dull thud on the soft ground as Gypsy cantered along the little used animal trail that ran parallel the ravine. In some places, the trail was wide enough for foot soldiers to walk five abreast. In others, it thinned to nearly hidden footpaths leading to sheltered places where travelers or thieves could camp out of the constant drizzle.

Each time the trail took a turn, Lainie looked back. Each time the shadows following her seemed closer and more distinct. If she didn’t do something soon, they would catch her before the sun rose. The thought of shadows or worse, Jericho catching her was enough to chill her through to the bone and more deeply than the mist shifting and floating eerily through the trees.

"OK, Lainie, you're letting your imagination get the best of you." She swallowed hard and prayed this was all in her mind.

Finally, Gypsy came to the edge of the ravine. A narrow bridge stretched across the river below. The narrow rock bridge didn’t look wide enough for her to cross let alone Gypsy. But the men she’d been riding with had assured her that with a sure foot and a steady hand the crossing could be made.

Lainie slipped from the saddle and landed on the ground. Taking the reins in hand, she started across the bridge testing its strength as well as its feel with each step. Rocks and dirt fell to the rushing water below. She didn’t hear the splash of water or the thud if rock had hit rock. Gypsy pulled back not wanting to follow her master.

"Come Gypsy, you can do it. That a girl. Be brave," Lainie cooed when the mare cautiously made her way.

Lainie held her breath not daring to breach the fragile silence. Each step seemed like an eternity. By the time Lainie landed on solid ground, she felt as if two lifetimes had passed before her eyes. Once past the bridge, she mounted and turned her horse to the northeast.

Here there was no trail, only tall grass. Gypsy’s hooves left indentations in the grass to mark her passage, but those marks would be harder to follow than the clear trail she had left in softer ground.

Zigzagging, guiding the horse through the grass, she headed toward a copse of trees to the east. Wishing she were not such an easy target, Lainie rode in the ever-receding blackness of the night. Dawn would arrive far too soon. Her muscles ached and her chapped legs were numb from the rubbing of the old saddle and cold from exposure to the damp fog that penetrated every part of her, but she didn’t dare stop long enough to change into her man’s clothing.

The path kept moving upward and she vowed that as soon as it became less steep, she would rest the mare as well as herself. Lainie reined Gypsy into the shadows of the trees. This time she stayed inside the tree line for over an hour before she found a wider trail with fewer brambles and thorns.

She looked around unhappily, wishing for shelter and the warmth of a fire. Dense fog slowly seemed to be encompassing the territory. She needed to see landmarks to tell where she was going. As the fog grew denser, she began to despair of ever reaching the highlands. She could be riding in circles for all she knew. Her only consolation was that if anyone followed, they would be at the same disadvantage. But that did little to console her when she knew she might run into Jericho and his men at any moment.

~ * ~

Jericho Manning wiped the sweat and the mist from his brow then looked down his own back trail. Only the shadows danced across the narrow road. Yet, he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation he was being followed. He listened to instincts had saved his life more than once, and took heed. Even though he listened and acknowledged his gut feelings, he was growing tired of having the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end when there was nothing more to show for it than an empty back trail stretching all the way to Ayr.

"Well," he asked impatiently as his best scout rode beside him. "Did you find her? Did you pick up her trail?"

Red shook his head, pulling at his scraggly red beard, from where his moniker came.

"Is she behind me or in front of me?" Jericho asked in disgust and frustration.

"Both," the big man said and shrugged. "She is like a cunning little fox. And there is the very devil inside her."

“She can’t be both places at the same time. Find her.” Jericho grunted.

He had already had a sample of the girl’s cleverness. He didn’t need any further proof she was sly and cunning. Half of his men had been robbed while she was in the tavern, melting into the shadows where no one suspected her. He should have been more wary, but he’d never taken her for a thief.

Jericho looked at the sky. "Fog. It’s rolling in thick and heavy."

The scout gave a big shrug of his shoulders and tilted his head sideways as if he considered what Jericho said as important.

"Red," muttered Jericho, "someday you’re going to make me so mad; I’ll take your head off. Go over the ground again. "Find her. Bring her to me. No mistakes this time."

The big man grinned, showing two broken teeth, two gaps and a black tooth.

~ * ~

Give up damn you, Lainie thought to
herself
. It’s cold and wet. Go find a warm fire to ease the cold.

Trembling with what Lainie knew to be both fear and cold, she watched Red systematically search for her, moving back and forth, brushing aside shrubbery and grass, looking for her tracks. When he dismounted only a few feet from her hiding place, she nearly gasped aloud, while her heart settled like a rock in her throat. She closed her eyes, not wanting to call attention to herself while she shrunk back against a huge boulder whose overhang provided her with some shelter from in coming fog and heavy mists.

After a few minutes, the temptation to look overcame her fear of discovery. Lainie slowly opened her eyes and peered carefully through the rocks and greenery that kept her hidden. The thin cry of a hawk and an eerie silence brought on by the thick fog shut out any sounds the men in front of her made.

Jericho, Red, and three other men were still searching through the trees. Lainie smiled slightly, knowing she had won. If Red couldn’t find her tracks, no one could. The big man was a legend in these parts. He’d worked for the English army for years and rumor had it he could track anyone anywhere. The big man was as famous for his tracking abilities as he was for his savage reputation with a sword. She reminded herself, the dark-haired stranger had put all of Jericho's men to shame.

Another hour passed before Jericho and his men gave up. By then it was almost noon, a light rain had replaced the fog and they had thoroughly trampled whatever signs Gypsy might have left. She knew she could thank the fog for her good fortune.