Go, I said! He cuffed the dog gently, and Rollo snorted, circled once, then sailed over his head and out through the window, hitting the ground outside with a solid thump. A frightful screech rent the air and there was the sound of scrabbling feet and heavy bodies tearing through shrubbery.
Startled voices came from the direction of the kitchen, and he heard Uncle Jamies step in the hall, an instant before the surgery door pushed in.
Ian? called his uncle softly. Where are ye, lad? Whats amiss?
He stood up, but a sheet of blinding white came down inside his eyes and he staggered. Uncle Jamie caught him by the arm, and set him down on a stool.
What is it, lad? His vision clearing, he could see his uncle in the light from the door, rifle in one hand, his face looking concerned but humorous as he glanced toward the open window. He sniffed deeply. Not a skunk, I suppose.
Aye, well, I suppose its one thing or the other, Ian said, touching his head gingerly. Either Rollos gone after a painter, or hes treed Aunties cat.
Oh, aye. Hed fare better wi the painter. His uncle set the rifle down and went to the window. Shall I close the shutter, or dye need the air, lad? Youre that bit peaked.
I feel peaked, Ian admitted. Aye, leave it, if ye will, Uncle.
Shall ye rest, Ian?
He hesitated. His stomach still lurched uneasily and he felt very much that he would like to lie down againbut the surgery made him uneasy, with its strong smells and the glints here and there of tiny blades and other mysterious and painful things. Uncle Jamie seemed to guess the trouble, for he bent and got a hand under Ians elbow.
Come along, lad. Ye can sleep upstairs in a proper bed, if ye dinna mind Major MacDonald in the other.
I dinna mind, he said, but Ill stay here, I think. He gestured toward the window, not wanting to nod and bother his head again. Rollo will likely be back soon.
Uncle Jamie didnt argue with him, something he was grateful for. Women fussed. Men just got on with it.
His uncle boosted him unceremoniously back into his bed, covered him up, then began rootling about in the dark, in search of the rifle he had put down. Ian began to feel that perhaps he could do with just a wee bit of fuss, after all.
Could ye get me a cup o water, Uncle Jamie?
Eh? Oh, aye.
Auntie Claire had left a jug of water close to hand. There was the comfortable sound of glugging liquid, and then the rim of a pottery cup held to his mouth, his uncles hand at his back to keep him upright. He didnt need it, but didnt object; the touch was warm and comforting. He hadnt realized how chilled he was from the night air, and shivered briefly.
All right, laddie? Uncle Jamie murmured, his hand tightening on Ians shoulder.
Aye, fine. Uncle Jamie?
Mphm?
Did Auntie Claire tell ye aboutabout a war? One coming, I mean. With England.
There was a moments silence, his uncles big form gone still against the light from the door.
She has, he said, and took away his hand. Did she tell you?
No, Cousin Brianna did. He lay down on his side, careful of his tender head. Dye believe them?
There was no hesitation this time.
Aye, I do. It was said with his uncles usual dry matter-of-factness, but something in it prickled the hairs on the back of Ians neck.
Oh. Well, then.
The goose-down pillow was soft under his cheek, and smelled of lavender. His uncles hand touched his head, smoothed the ruffled hair back from his face.
Dinna fash yourself about it, Ian, he said softly. Theres time, yet.
He picked up the gun and left. From where he lay, Ian could see across the dooryard and above the trees where they dropped from the edge of the Ridge, past the slope of Black Mountain, and on into the black sky beyond, thick with stars.
He heard the back door open, and Mrs. Bugs voice, rising high above the others.
Theyre no to hame, sir, she was saying, breathless. And the hoose is dark, no fire in the hearth. Wherever might they go, this time o night?
He wondered dimly who was gone, but it didnt seem to matter much. If it was trouble, Uncle Jamie would deal with it. The thought was comforting; he felt like a small boy, safe in bed, hearing his fathers
voice outside, talking to a tenant in the cold dark of a Highland dawn.
Warmth spread slowly over him beneath the quilt, and he slept.
THE MOON WAS beginning to rise when they set out, and a good thing, too, Brianna thought. Even with the big, lopsided gold orb sailing up out of a cradle of stars and shedding its borrowed radiance over the sky, the trail beneath their feet was invisible. So were their feet, drowned in the absolute black of the forest at night.
Black, but not quiet. The giant trees rustled overhead, small things squealed and snuffled in the dark, and now and then the silent flutter of a bat passed close enough to startle her, as though part of the night had suddenly come loose and taken wing under her nose.
The Ministers Cat is an apprehensive cat? Roger suggested, as she gasped and clutched at him in the wake of one such leather-winged visitation.