Im watching out for a snake bearing apples, he said, and laughed, then cleared his throat. Are ye hungry, Eve? His hand came down to twine with hers.
Getting there. Are you? He must be starving; they had had only a hasty snack at midday.
Aye, I am, but He broke off, hesitating, and his fingers tightened in hers. Yell think Im mad, butwould ye mind if I went to fetch wee Jem tonight, instead of waiting for the morning? Its only, Id feel a bit better to have him back.
She squeezed his hand in return, her heart lifting.
Well both go. Its a great idea.
Maybe so, but its five miles to McGillivrays, too. Itll be long dark before were there. He was smiling, though, and his body brushed against her breasts as he turned to face her.
Something moved by her face, and she drew back sharply. A tiny caterpillar, green as the leaves on which it fed and vibrant against Rogers dark hair, reared itself into an S-shape, looking vainly for sanctuary.
What? Roger slid his eyes sideways, trying to see what she was looking at.
Found your snake. I expect hes looking for an apple, too. She coaxed the tiny worm onto her finger, stepped outside, and squatted to let it crawl onto a grass blade that matched its vivid green. But the grass was in shadow. In only an instant, the sun had gone down, the forest no longer the color of life.
A thread of smoke reached her nose; chimney smoke from the Big House, but her throat closed at the smell of burning. Suddenly her uneasiness was stronger. The light was fading, night coming on. The mockingbird had fallen silent, and the forest seemed full of mystery and threat.
She rose to her feet, shoving a hand through her hair.
Lets go, then.
Do ye not want supper, first? Roger looked quizzically at her, breeches in hand.
She shook her head, chill beginning to creep up her legs.
No. Lets just go. Nothing seemed to matter, save to get Jem, and be together again, a family.
All right, Roger said mildly, eyeing her. I do think yed best put on your fig leaf first, though. Just in case we meet an angel with a flaming sword.
5
THE SHADOWS WHICH
FIRE THROWS
I ABANDONED IAN AND ROLLO to the
juggernaut of Mrs. Bugs benevolencelet Ian try telling her he didnt want bread and milkand sat down to my own belated supper: a hot, fresh omelette, featuring not only cheese, but bits of salty bacon, asparagus, and wild mushroom, flavored with spring onions.
Jamie and the Major had finished their own meals already, and sat by the fire beneath a companionable fug of tobacco smoke from the Majors clay pipe. Evidently, Jamie had just finished telling Major MacDonald about the gruesome tragedy, for MacDonald was frowning and shaking his head in sympathy.
Puir gomerels! he said. Yell be thinking that it was the same banditti, perhaps, who set upon your nephew?
I am, Jamie replied. I shouldna like to think there were two such bands prowling the mountains. He glanced toward the window, cozily shuttered for the night, and I noticed suddenly that he had taken down his fowling piece from over the hearth and was absently wiping the spotless barrel with an oily rag. Do I gather, a charaid, that yeve heard some report of similar doings?
Three others. At least. The Majors pipe threatened to go out, and he drew on it mightily, making the tobacco in the bowl glow and crackle sudden red.
A small qualm made me pause, a bite of mushroom warm in my mouth. The possibility that a mysterious gang of armed men might be roaming at large, attacking homesteads at random, had not occurred to me til this moment.
Obviously, it had occurred to Jamie; he rose, put the fowling piece back on its hooks, touched the rifle that hung above it for reassurance, then went to the sideboard, where his dags and the case with its elegant pair of dueling pistols were kept.
MacDonald watched with approval, puffing clouds of soft blue smoke, as Jamie methodically laid out guns, shot pouches, bullet molds, patches, rods, and all the other impedimenta of his personal armory.
Mmphm, MacDonald said. A verra nice piece, that, Colonel. He nodded at one of the dags, a long-barreled, elegant thing with a scroll butt and silver-gilt fittings.
Jamie gave MacDonald a narrow glance, hearing the Colonel, but answered calmly enough.
Aye, its a bonny thing. It doesna aim true at anything over two paces, though. Won it in a horse race, he added, with a small apologetic gesture at the gun, lest MacDonald think him fool enough to have paid good money for it.
He checked the flint nonetheless, replaced it, and set the gun aside.
Where? Jamie said casually, reaching for the bullet mold.
I had resumed chewing, but looked inquiringly at the Major myself.
Mind, its only what Ive heard, MacDonald warned, taking the pipe from his mouth for a moment, then hastily putting it back for another puff. A homestead some distance from Salem, burned to the ground. Folk called ZinzerGermans. He sucked hard, cheeks hollowing.
That was in February, late in the month. Then three weeks later, a ferry, on the Yadkin north of Worams Landingthe house robbed, and the ferryman killed. The third Here he broke off, puffing furiously, and cut his eyes at me, then back at Jamie.