Mora just sighed and gazed up at the leafy trees as they rode. She had to wonder if she would ever learn the truth about her brothers’ fate. It was easier, although sad, to just assume they were dead, especially since the chances of that were great, even without the aid of her cousins.
She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Now was not the time for a good cry. Later, when she found a chance to be alone, she would grieve for them. It would be a lot longer before she ceased to miss them.
Then Freya drew her attention. The cat was sitting up straight and staring back at the road. Then she hissed and ducked down into the bag. Before she could say a word, Gybbon rode deeper into the trees and draped one of the blankets over Jester’s bright white tail. Mora leaned forward, tugged up the horse’s mane and lay down, covering as much as she could with her cloak-shrouded body.
Gybbon was impressed. She had covered the other part of his horse that would have been easily seen even through the thick trees and done so without thought or direction. He had to admit she had learned the art of hiding very well. Then he heard the sound of horses approaching and idly wondered what his family would think if they knew he was accepting a cat’s warning and acting on it. The laughter would probably deafen him.
He watched as her cousins rode by. They were not riding hard and fast nor looking around much. Gybbon wondered about their lack of urgency. He decided the men rode as if they knew exactly where they needed to go to find what they were looking for. Glancing at Mora, the look on her face made him think she already suspected that and could only wonder just how they had found out.
When the men halted just before they rode out of sight, Gybbon watched them closely. They were arguing about something and pointing in the direction he planned on traveling along in a short while. Cautiously, he nudged his horse along until he was close enough to hear the men, signaling to Mora to stay as she was and remain silent.
“Ye seem adamant that we dinnae travel to Dubheidland, Murdoch,” Robert said as he looked at his brother. “I have to wonder why.”
“I dinnae see anyone trying to go there, into a world of strangers, when they could travel straight on to a large town and disappear into a crowd.”
“That would make a better place to hide,” said the one who had given him the warning head shakes the last time Gybbon had spoken to them.
Despite how the scratches hid Robert’s expression well, Gybbon was certain the man no longer trusted the young man. Gybbon hoped the boy had the wit to not give himself away. He had no doubt that Robert would kill the boy if he thought Murdoch a threat to his plans.
“I am nay sure we should just ride up to the Cameron keep anyway,” said the fourth brother.
“We arenae going to fight them,” snapped Robert as he turned his attention to another brother. “We are just going to inquire about our kinswoman, Lachlan.”
“Nay sure he will be so trusting as to tell us anything.”
“Why wouldnae he? She is naught to him. But now we will go to the town up the road a ways, wash up, and get our clothing cleaned so that we are at our best when we rap at his gates.” Robert looked up at the sky as the first drops of rain began. “Find a damn bed to sleep in as we willnae be getting there this day. We may even be able to find out a few useful things about the Laird of Dubheidland that we can turn to our advantage.”
“Are ye certain she would come all this way when she only met the mon twice, and her nay more than a child both times?”
“Aye, Lachlan, I am sure.” Robert’s building temper was clear to hear in his voice. “I was standing right outside the door when our dull-witted aunt told Da all about it. It was while he was still conscious enough to speak on occasion. I dinnae think he understood it all, but he did tell her to be careful. Now, let us ride on to the town,” Robert ordered, and urged his horse to move on down the road, his brothers hurrying to trot along with him.
Mora did not move. As soon as her cousins were out of sight, Gybbon lightly rubbed her back. It had to be hard to hear the men speak so harshly of her mother, but he hoped the faint tremble he felt in her body was not because she was crying.
Moving deeper into the woods, he knew of a cottage nearby and hoped they could reach it before that one drop became hundreds. Grabbing the reins with both hands as Mora sat up straight, he made his way through the woods as fast as he dared.
Mora forced her eyes to open as the raindrops began to hit her faster. She pulled up her hood and did up her bag so Freya would not get wet. She was still fighting to calm the rage she had been seized by as she had listened to her cousins, but the sympathy Gybbon offered silently had helped. Mora suspected he had thought she was crying and was tempted to correct him. Then she decided it might not be a good idea to tell him of her murderous thoughts. She turned her energy to hoping they found shelter before the rain worsened. Her wound still bothered her and she decided she would try to find a moment of privacy to take a good look at it, so she silently prayed he would soon find the cottage he had spoken of.
Chapter Four
As they rode out of the trees Mora stared at the cottage they now approached. It looked sturdy and well tended to, yet showed no sign of habitation. She was surprised it had not been claimed by someone. When she finally saw Sigimor, she might try to gently suggest he go to some of the cities and hunt for tenants as she knew that was where he would find many ready to move and work for a decent home to live in.
Gybbon cautiously opened the stable doors, saw no animals, and led his horse inside. He quickly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down. As he set down their bags and the blankets, Mora told herself it was the speed with which he lifted her down that left her a little breathless.
While he unsaddled Jester and then settled his mount in a stall and made sure he had something to eat, Mora opened her bag to let out Freya. When her pet escaped her and ran into an empty stall, she nearly ran after her knowing the animal was searching for a place to do her business, but then decided to just let her go. After all, she told herself, any animal stabled here would use the place the same way. A little buried cat mess would not bring any notice.
Freya had just gotten back in the bag when Gybbon came to her, collected the blankets and his own things, took her by the hand the moment she grabbed her bag, and went to look out the stable doors. It was now pouring and he sighed. Mora looked at the rain and sighed, too, resigning herself to getting wet.
“We are going to have to run for it, lass, and we will still get wet.” He looked down at her as he draped a blanket over his head and around his shoulders. “Ready?” he asked as he stepped out, tugging her after him, and pulled the stable doors shut.
“Aye,” she replied, glad for the slight overhang of the stable roof as it held off some of the rain if she pressed hard up against the wall. “Best to stay clear of me,” she said as she pulled up the hood of her cloak, then grabbed tightly onto her bag and the cloak’s front. “I cannae see too clearly with my hood up.”
He released her hand and ran toward the cottage. Mora took a deep breath and then followed him as fast as she could. She used the temptation to get beneath the covered front step to keep going.
She bumped into Gybbon and quickly moved to stand beside him. He opened the door and, after looking around for a moment, grabbed her by the hand and tugged her inside. While he shut and secured the door, she took off her coat, then undid her bag to let Freya out. From the outside and in the rain it had not looked like a very big cottage, but from the inside it proved to be a lot bigger than she had thought. More important, she could not see any immediate sign of leaks.
She stood in a large room with an impressive stone hearth in the middle of one wall. As she hung her cloak on a hook to the side of the fireplace, Gybbon piled some wood in the hearth and worked to get a fire started. Mora glanced at the narrow steps that led up to the loft, then over at the far wall where a kitchen and eating area had been set apart just a little. There was one shuttered window on each wall and Mora welcomed the light thrown off by the fire almost as much as she did the heat.
Glancing at the neatly stacked wood by the hearth, she said, “’Tis weel supplied for a deserted home.”
