“Do you think he killed MacPherson’s father?” Gillian asked.
Rose nodded miserably. “And Jamie is determined to have revenge. And William…it seems almost as if he welcomes it. As if he thinks he deserves it.” She covered her face and shook her head, despair rising in her heart. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused.”
Her sisters moved to the bed and sat on either side of her. They wrapped their arms around her, as if trying to absorb her troubles. Gillian spoke soothing words to her, rubbing her back. Isobel spoke more forcefully.
“It’s not for you to fix, Rose, you know that. You’re not responsible for everyone. You take on too much. Father, Strathwick, everyone else’s problems. You must let some things go and live your life. I love Father, too, but he is dying and we must accept it. Maybe he still hangs on because we won’t let go. He longs for release from his suffering, but how can he stop fighting when he knows how his death will destroy you?”
“I know,” Rose whispered, and she did. But it was never as simple as knowing, and her sisters knew that as well. They huddled together on the bed, arms twined around each other, wishing they could set things right intheir world and knowing fate had her own plans for them all.
Deidra sat in the sweet-smelling pile of hay, nibbling on her bread. She’d been told not to leave the room, but her father and Uncle Drake had still been asleep and she’d been hungry. There had been food in the hall. She’d grabbed some bread and a piece of sausage, then gone into the yard. So many people had been milling about that no one had seemed to notice her—except the other children. They’d stared but hadn’t thrown stones at her like the ones at home did.
She had sought out the animals, since they always talked to her readily, and there was no awkwardness or staring—and they never threw things.
Moireach hung her head over the stall.Sweet? Red? Good?She wanted an apple. There had been plenty of those in the hall, too, and Deidra had been certain to grab one. She held it up to the mare, who took it delicately, expressing her gratitude.
The morning sunlight shining through the doorway disappeared suddenly. A man blocked the light. He stood there for a long moment, then entered, heading straight for where Deidra nestled in the hay. It was the red-haired man.
He squatted down in front of her, smiling. He had lots of square white teeth, and his hair was very pretty—long, like a lass’s. He didn’t plait it or do pretty things with it like lasses do; he just tied it back. His eyes were very blue, like her father’s, but not as pretty. His lashes were pale, almost blond.
“Good morn, Miss Deidra,” he said, smiling. He smiled so much that she thought his face must hurt from it. “Fancy finding you here. You ken it’s dangerous to be in here by yourself, aye?”
“It’s not.”
His smile disappeared, though his eyes remained merry. He cocked his head slightly, as if her answer puzzled him. “It’s not? Why is that? Horses bite and kick grown men. A wee thing like you could easily be trampled.”
“They don’t bite and kick me, and they don’t trample if they don’t have to.”
“And why is that? Are you special, Miss Deidra?” He said it in a laughing manner, but there was a sudden hard shine to his eyes, and Deidra remembered what Da and Uncle Drake had said.Tell no one.
She shook her head.
“That’s too bad. I’ve a secret to share but you must promise to tell no one.”
“I can’t keep secrets anymore.”
“No? That’s too bad. It’s a good one.”
Deidra wanted to hear his secret, and he looked so sad that he couldn’t tell her. “Can I tell my Da? He said I have to tell him everything. He can keep a secret.”
He frowned a bit in consternation, then said, “Forget about the secret. Tell me why you like the stables.”
“I like the animals.”
“Do ye? I like them, too. Sometimes I come here just to talk to them.”
Deidra bit her bottom lip to keep from blurting out that she did, too. “What do you tell them?”
“All sorts of things.”
“Do they talk back?”
He nodded sagely. “That they do.”
Deidra narrowed her eyes at him. She’d never met anyone else who could talk to animals. She looked up at Moireach, who hung her head over the stall again and lipped at Deidra’s hair.Sweet? Red? More?Deidra giggled and put her hand on the mare’s velvet nose.
“What is she saying?” she challenged.
The man squinted his eyes and twisted his mouth, as if concentrating very hard on the horse. Then he said, “She wants to go riding.”
