“Which warehouse?” Cranson asked, circling him like a raven about to land on carrion.
Teague pointed out the warehouse at the end of the wharf, the one next to the building housing the people of his clan and their possessions. “Mr. Fitch’s there on the end. He promised me sixpence for every six rats I kill.”
Cranson studied the place, then turned back and squinted at him for a long, heart-stopping moment. “A rat killer, ye say?”
“Aye.”
The man stepped back and waved him on. “Good hunting to ye.”
“Thank ye, sir.” Teague bobbed another apologetic bow, then shuffled onward, hoping Mila hadn’t fainted dead away. He daren’t sneak a look at her. Not yet. Instead, he headed for the warehouse in case the men watched him. Once he reached the Fitch warehouse and stood with his hand on the door, he stole a covert glance at the soldiers. When they appeared to be looking the other way, he shot between the buildings and spied on them from around the corner. “Come to me, m’love,” he whispered while crossing himself. “And may God keep ye safe.”
After what felt like forever, he spotted a lone soul ambling toward the wharf’s narrow boardwalk. But that couldn’t possibly be Mila. This woman appeared to be quite aged. Thick in the middle with a slight hump between her shoulders, the elderly crone clutched her shawl tight under her chin. What he could see of her face that wasn’t shadowed by the shawl up over her head revealed she might not be in the best of health. With skin as gray as ash, she appeared to be near death. Perhaps she was a relation that one of the clan had invited to come along. The way she looked, he doubted she would survive the journey to France.
He stretched and scanned the area behind her, trying to see into the shadows of the alley. It was too far. Where the hell was Mila?
The soldiers and Cranson ignored the old woman, not even offering her a polite tip of their heads. Rude bastards. The elderly deserved to be respected. As she shuffled along the boardwalk and neared the MacDonald warehouse, he noticed she occasionally clutched at her middle, grabbing at her clothes as if they irritated her. Then he detected a short trail of linen dangling down between her feet. When she shoved her hand down the front of her dress and yanked it back up, he slapped a hand across his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. His precious dove had chosen a different way to outwit the soldiers.
She wisely toddled along until she reached the Fitch warehouse as well, and even went so far as to open the door. Then she peeped around it, looked back at the soldiers, ran between the buildings, and joined him. With both hands clasped to her chest, she gasped as though out of breath. “I canna believe I made it.”
He hugged her tight. “Well done, m’love. Well done, indeed.”
“Into the warehouse now, aye?” She offered a quivering smile.
“Aye, dear one. We are nearlyhome free, as Master Robbie would say.” He shared her feelings: hope, fear, excitement, and anxiousness. Never had so many emotions churned within him. But also never had so much been at stake.
They hurried into a side door of the warehouse, then halted. Teague stared all around, struck speechless. To the back of the cavernous building were the animals. As near as he could tell, only horses and the dogs that always roamed around the keep. No other livestock waited to board the ship. No fowl or any of the cattle the MacDonald clan had always protected so fiercely. There had been neither enough time nor space on the ship for everything the clan possessed. To the front of the warehouse, wagonloads of possessions stood ready to be loaded. And then there were his people. More than he had ever imagined would follow them in this.
“How many?” he asked, as Calder joined them.
“Forty families.” Calder swelled with a deep intake of air, then shook his head. “TheVengeancewill be bursting at the seams. But I didna have the heart to refuse any who wished to join us.” With a somber expression, he tipped his head toward Mila. “She shared her visions of what is to come. Bethia told us Lady MacDonald confirmed them. As we see it, this is the best way to see that our clan survives.”
“God willing,” Teague added.
“Aye,” Calder agreed. “God willing.”
“When I passed, the ship was almost docked,” Mila said. “When can we start loading? I feel certain Master Cranson and his henchman will be watching our every move.”
“Soon as they set the gangway, we start.” Calder waved Bhric and Iagan over. “Get them organized to load. Goods and animals with a few people scattered among them. We dinna wish it to appear as though we are moving our entire clan.”
Both men nodded and hurried away.
Mila took hold of his arm and tugged as she moved closer to Calder. “I want Teague on that ship first, ye ken? We need him safe.”
With a gentle firmness, Teague removed her hand and shook his head. “Nay, m’love. I will board last, after I have seen everyone safe. It is my duty and I willna cede on this, understand?”
While she did not seem pleased, she gave an understanding nod. “Where are the boys? Robbie and Auley?”
Teague nodded toward the front of the warehouse. “Looks as though they are already helping gather the first load of goods.” He threw off the ratty cloak and hat. “Time for me to join them. I am not a chieftain who watches while everyone else works.”
Mila tossed her shawl in the corner and started pulling rags out of her dress. “As soon as I lose this extra weight, I will join ye.”
Spirits lifting, Teague joined the lads and helped sort and lash items together. Nothing like a good, hearty chore to clear the mind. Dugald stood watch at the narrow door, waiting to open the wide double doors as soon as the crew gave the signal.
Notice finally came, and they walked the great doors open and tied them back. With the help of theVengeance’s crew and every able-bodied MacDonald, possessions, animals, and families went aboard. At the point where he almost felt it safe to breathe easy, a flash of red warned him trouble had arrived.
Calder stepped in front of him, then backed him behind a stack of barrels just as Cranson and six British soldiers strode forward, bearing the new muskets Teague had heard so much about.
“I would see yer papers, sir,” Master Cranson said to Calder.
