It was pitch-dark, the lad said, Jamie put in logically. No sensible person would fling a tomahawk into a dark wood at something he couldna see. He was holding the spirit lamp for me to work by; he moved it closer, so we could see not only the ragged line of stitches, but the spreading bruise around it, revealed by the hair I had clipped off.
Aye, see? Jamies finger spread the remaining bristles gently apart, tracing several deep scratches that scored the bruised area. Your aunties right, Ian; yeve been attacked by a tree.
Ian opened one eye a slit.
Has anyone ever told ye what a comical fellow ye are, Uncle Jamie?
No.
Ian closed the eye.
Thats as well, because yere not.
Jamie smiled, and squeezed Ians shoulder.
Feeling a bit better then, are ye?
No.
Aye, well, the thing is, Major MacDonald interrupted, that the lad did meet with some sort of banditti, no? Had ye reason to think they might be Indians?
No, said Ian again, but this time he opened the eye all the way. It was bloodshot. They werent.
MacDonald didnt appear pleased with this answer.
How could ye be sure, lad? he asked, rather sharply. If it was dark, as ye say.
I saw Jamie glance quizzically at the Major, but he didnt interrupt. Ian moaned a little, then heaved a sigh and answered.
I smelt them, he said, adding almost immediately, I think Im going to puke.
He raised himself on one elbow and promptly did so. This effectively put an end to any further questions, and Jamie took Major MacDonald off to the kitchen, leaving me to clean Ian up and settle him as comfortably as I could.
Can you open both eyes? I asked, having got him tidied and resting on his side, with a pillow under his head.
He did, blinking a little at the light. The small blue flame of the spirit lamp was reflected twice over in the darkness of his eyes, but the pupils shrank at onceand together.
Thats good, I said, and put down the lamp on the table. Leave it, dog, I said to Rollo, who was nosing at the strange smell of the lampit was burning a mix of low-grade brandy and turpentine. Take hold of my fingers, Ian.
I held out my index fingers and he slowly wrapped a large, bony hand round each of them. I put him through the drill for neurological damage, having him squeeze, pull, push, and then concluded by listening to his heart, which was thumping along reassuringly.
Slight concussion, I announced, straightening up and smiling at him.
Oh, aye? he asked, squinting up at me.
It means your head aches and you feel sick. Youll feel better in a few days.
I could ha told ye that, he muttered, settling back.
So you could, I agreed. But concussion sounds so much more important than cracked heid, doesnt it?
He didnt laugh, but smiled faintly in response. Will ye feed Rollo, Auntie? He wouldna leave me on the way; hell be hungry.
Rollo pricked his ears at the sound of his name, and shoved his muzzle into Ians groping hand, whining softly.
Hes fine, I said to the dog. Dont worry. And yes, I added to Ian, Ill bring something. Do you think you could manage a bit of bread and milk, yourself?
No, he said definitely. A dram o whisky, maybe?
No, I said, just as definitely, and blew out the spirit lamp.
Auntie, he said, as I turned to the door.
Yes? Id left a single candlestick to light him, and he looked very young and pale in the wavering yellow glow.
Why dye suppose Major MacDonald wants it to be Indians I met in the wood?
I dont know. But I imagine Jamie does. Or will, by now.
4
SERPENT IN EDEN
BRIANNA PUSHED OPEN
the door to her cabin, listening warily for the scamper of rodent feet or the dry whisper of scales across the floor. Shed once walked in in the dark and stepped within inches of a small rattlesnake; while the snake had been nearly as startled as she was, and slithered madly away between the hearthstones, shed learned her lesson.
There was no scuttle of fleeing mice or voles this time, but something larger had been and gone, pushing its way through the oiled skin tacked over the window. The sun was just setting, and there was enough daylight left to show her the woven-grass basket in which she kept roasted peanuts, knocked from its shelf onto the floor and the contents cracked and eaten, a litter of shells scattered over the floor.
A loud rustling noise froze her momentarily, listening. It came again, followed by a loud clang as something fell to the ground, on the other side of the back wall.
You little bastard! she said. Youre in my pantry!
Fired with righteous indignation, she seized the broom and charged into the lean-to with a banshee yell. An enormous raccoon, tranquilly munching a smoked trout, dropped its prey at sight of her, dashed between her legs, and made off like a fat banker in flight from creditors, making loud birring noises of alarm.
Nerves pulsing with adrenaline, she put aside the broom and bent to salvage what she could of the mess, cursing under her breath. Raccoons were less destructive than squirrels, who would chew and shred with hapless abandonbut they had bigger appetites.