Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series (64 page)

Chapter One
Findley’s Lass

The Highlands, Autumn 1344

’Twas not long after the heather had bloomed that Findley McKenna and three of his men left Castle Gregor on their journey northeast. Had they been on horseback, and not driving heavy wagons, they could have arrived at their destination in three short days instead of the five it was taking them.

The sun shone brightly in the vivid blue autumn sky. A whisper soft breeze caressed the deep crimson, gold and purple trees that spread across the Highlands. No other season was as beautiful as autumn in the Highlands, well, other than winter, spring and summer.

Although there was plenty of time before winter would arrive, Findley was quite eager to reach the reiver camp before the fall rains set in. It was difficult enough making their way across the lands by wagon in good weather and he had no desire to travel through mud and muck with wagons hopefully full of people.

For days now he had been quietly mulling over in his mind what he would say to Maggy. He needed to convince her, and what remained of her clan, to return to Castle Gregor with him. He prayed that she and her people would be glad for the offer of a safe and permanent home.

It had taken very little effort to convince his chief and the clan council that this small band of people were in serious need of assistance. Findley had appealed to the chief’s strong sense of honor and duty toward the less fortunate, but he had personal reasons for wanting to bring them back. He was quite certain that he had fallen in love with the beautiful mother of five. That, or he had lost his mind all together.

At the moment, he was leaning more toward insanity, for how could a person fall so hopelessly in love with someone after only a few hours together? It had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a romantic interlude they had shared. Nay, ’twas far from that for most of the time had been spent with Maggy scolding her sons for stealing, for skulking away in the dark of night and terrifying her beyond measure. She had admitted to Findley that day that her biggest fear was the boys had either been kidnapped for ransom or taken as slaves. Either way, she would not have had the means necessary to procure their freedom.

She had apologized repeatedly to Findley and his men for her sons’ stupidity and apparent lack of morals. Between apologizing and scolding her sons, there had been little time for anything even remotely resembling romance. There was just something about the woman, that even as she scolded her sons, he found intriguing. He could not have told anyone what that something was, only that he felt drawn to her.

At some point after leaving the reivers and their beautiful mother, the image of Maggy’s dark auburn hair and bright green eyes began to creep into his thoughts. If he thought about it long enough he would surmise that those thoughts began to creep in mere moments after saying good-bye. It was all downhill from there. For some God-forsaken reason he was consumed by her.

Even when he had taken a dirk to his side in a battle against the English in the summer, his thoughts had been of Maggy. As he lay on the bloodied battleground, clinging to life, his last thought before losing consciousness had been of her. He fought death as fiercely as he had fought any battle in his life just so that he might live to see her again.

Findley and his men, Richard, Patrick and Wee William drove the wagons as fast as the rocky terrain would allow. As far as Findley was concerned they couldn’t go fast enough. The longer they rode, the more anxious he became, and he could only pray that Maggy and her people would listen to reason and agree to his offer.

It was early afternoon when they crested the small hill near the River Clyde that Maggy’s clan called home. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Death lingered in the air. He and his men caught the distinct odor and instantly drew their broadswords. As they pulled rein and stopped the horses, their eyes scanned the sight before them. Findley’s heart pounded with fear and dread as he threw on the wagon brake and leapt down from his seat. Destruction and death lay before them.

Nothing remained of the hut where the auld had at one time slept save for the charred wooden frame and three bodies burned beyond recognition. Bile rose in the back of Findley's throat as the anger simmered.

Wee William stood beside him, shaking his head while Richard and Patrick searched through the remains.

“I’d say it happened at least two days ago. Maybe three,” Wee William said in a hushed, reverent tone.

Findley could only nod his head as his mind raced and stared at the dead bodies at his feet.
 
He could only pray that they wouldn't find Maggy or her boys among the dead.

Patrick and Richard walked toward the river and found two more of the auld lying dead along the bank. Findley and Wee William soon joined them. The final death toll was put at seven. There was no sign of Maggy or her boys anywhere.

It was Richard who finally asked the question that Findley couldn’t. “Where be Maggy and the lads?”

Findley couldn’t respond, his heart wouldn’t allow him to go there, to think of the possibilities of where Maggy and the lads could be. He bent and studied the tracks left in the mud and judged there had been at least ten on horseback. The tracks led in from the east and apparently left in the same direction they had arrived.

“Who ye think coulda done this?” Wee William asked to no one in particular.

Just then, a gust of wind swept down from the hills, scattering bits of dust and leaves. A small scrap of cloth landed on Wee William’s foot. It was as if God Himself had answered the question. Wee William picked up the cloth and studied it closely for a moment. His jaw set as anger filled his eyes for he’d recognize that bit of plaid anywhere. He handed it to Findley for his inspection. It took only a moment for him to come to the same conclusion.

“Buchannans.” A chill slid down his spine at saying the name.

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Findley’s Lass

Suzan lives in the Midwest with her verra handsome husband and the last of their four children. They are currently seeking monetary donations to help feed their 15 year old, 6’3”, built-like-a-linebacker son.

My writing isn’t an obsession. I prefer to think of it as a passion.

Books in The Clan MacDougall Series

Laiden’s Daughter, Book One of The Clan MacDougall Series
, December 2011

Findley’s Lass, Book Two of The Clan MacDougall Series
, September 2012

Rowan’s Lady, Book Four of The Clan MacDougall Series, to be released Fall of 2013

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