Iain shrugged as he took aim at another. “Any saloon, I would guess. He just makes it known he needs some men to rid him of a woman and a child and names the fee offered for the job. Probably went to a couple saloons to get this many. It would sound like easy money to men like these. Doubt they learned the facts of the place they had to attack until they rode up and saw it.” Iain shot the man he aimed at. “Saw a few at the back who hesitated and then turned round and left.”
“Not enough. We have to keep them from reaching the gates, Iain. We can’t shoot them easy when they get too close to the walls of the stockade, at least not without one of us exposing ourselves to a bullet, and that gives them a chance to find a way in.”
Nodding, Iain shot another man. “Then we had best shoot faster.”
“I dinnae ken why these fools think they can get in here,” Iain muttered, reloading his rifle even as the men retreated back, out of firing range.
“Aye,” agreed Matthew as he relaxed against the wall of the stockade, “I would have thought they would see it as a fort as so many others have.” He joined Iain in glaring at Robbie when he laughed.
“Sorry. I just thought on the folk that thought it was a fort at the beginning and sought a night’s shelter. They always looked so surprised to find out it was just us.” Robbie fired at a man trying to get close to the gates and watched as the man ran back toward the others. “They have now taken to staying out of range. Well, my range, as I am a poor aim the farther away a thing is.”
There was a shout from the back and several shots sounded from behind them. Iain ran to where he had placed Duncan and Nigel. He had placed them there because he had thought it would be safer than in the front. Neither Nigel nor Duncan had the stomach needed for battle. They could do what was needed but they suffered for it. Nigel was sitting down, his face pale and his mouth twisted in a grimace of pain, and Duncan was tying a bandage around his arm. Iain crouched down beside them.
“Is the bullet still in there?” he asked his brother, who was already looking less pale.
“Nay,” answered Nigel. “It just took a bit of meat off my arm. Ruined my aim. Think my bullet went into the house. I am not worried. It is much like the wound Emily got and if she can recover easily then I should be able to.”
Iain peered over the top of the stockade. There was a group of men tucked into the rocks and shadows that marked his land in so many places. It would be difficult to hit them but he suspected they could do it. Iain just did not think it a good idea to waste their ammunition in trying.
“Do ye think ye can still shoot?” he asked Nigel.
“Not well but, aye, I can hold the rifle and pull the trigger. Why?”
“Because I think they are going to make a charge at us soon. They may well have spotted our weak point.”
“We had to have a back way in, and out, Iain,” said Duncan. “Most times I forget it is there. The door blends well with the rest of the stockade fence.”
“But nay perfectly. It is barred but I am nay sure it can hold firm against a hard attack. So those men have to be kept from getting close. I need to ken that ye two lads can do that.”
Duncan and Nigel exchanged looks and then nodded firmly. Instead of hurrying around to the front, Iain went down the wall. He jogged to the house and slipped into the parlor. He cursed himself for giving in to superstition as he grabbed the scabbard and sword that had belonged to his father. It had saved him on the day his parents had died and held off danger time after time as they finished the long journey alone. It might not actually be good luck to go into battle with it, but right now he needed the strength the belief he had in it gave him.
Once back on the wall with Matthew, and assuring him that everyone was fine, Iain studied the men who had sought cover by the small hills and gullies facing their stockade. Iain had never envisioned the wall proving its worth this way but felt a certain pride in how well it was holding up. It was the land’s dark reputation of being plagued by outlaws and his fear of losing any more of his family that had made him decide they would put their home behind a stockade. The labor they had put into it while building it had been far more than he had anticipated, but they had not suffered from any sudden attack by the thieves or outlaws who called these hills home.
He looked to the side just as an arrow went sailing toward his house, the flame it carried making it easy to see. He could only hope it did not catch anything alight as he and his brothers could not leave the walls. It infuriated him that they were trying to set his house alight but then he wondered why they had not shot their arrows toward the fence. Because the women and children were in the house, he realized, and swore viciously. They wanted the fear for the others to make him and his brothers err. He tapped Matthew and pointed out the man in the tree on the side of their property. Matthew had a good eye for hitting the more hidden targets. In minutes the man was no longer a threat.
The men at the front began to move forward and Iain readied his aim. Just as he was about to shoot, the man he was aiming at screamed and fell from his horse. Iain looked beyond the now panicked group of men and grinned. The Powell brothers had come to join the fight. He patted the sword hanging on his hip. Even as he told himself it might be ridiculous superstition, he could not fully banish the sense that the sword had brought him the luck he needed yet again. Now if he could just finish this job up quickly he could check on where that arrow landed and what damage there was.
* * *
Emily let Mrs. O’Neal in the back door, her children close behind her. “I think there are a lot more men attacking than there was last time.”
“There is an army out there,” said Rory.
Mrs. O’Neal scowled at her son then looked at Emily, who had moved to lock the door. “This fool went up on the walls. Thank heavens Robbie sent him right back down.” She lightly slapped the boy on the back of the head. “I told you to never do that.” Then she looked at Emily. “That man after you and Neddy put down some hard money to get this group. If Rory calls it an army it must be a fair-sized force of men. Boy’s not one given to exaggeration.”
Emily silently cursed her sister and, at that moment, felt not the slightest pinch of guilt for doing so. “I cannot believe how foolish Annabel was. She knew Albert was out to get rid of our whole family. How could she have been so silly as to write to our mutual cousin and tell her about her son?” She shook her head. “No, I will not let all this make me speak ill of the dead. I must cease gnawing on that bone.”
Mrs. O’Neal patted her shoulder. “It is all that greedy Albert’s fault.”
Glad she had told Mrs. O’Neal the full truth as she had found keeping so many secrets hard, Emily nodded. “True. Well, we better get down to the root cellar.”
“Are you sure we have to?”
“I have no great love of root cellars, either, but it is the safest place for us. I do not think they can get through the MacEnroys and their wall but we should do all that is necessary to ensure our safety. There are a lot of bullets flying about.” The sound of a window breaking added a lot of weight to her warning.
“You are right. Come along,” Mrs. O’Neal said to her children.
Emily grabbed Neddy by the hand and followed the others down into the root cellar. Over the last few days they had done all they could to make it comfortable, putting wood and carpet on the dirt floor and a few chairs. They had also added a cache of food and drink. It had been done just in case they were attacked but no one had really anticipated this. She felt Neddy start to tremble and understood. It all brought back some frightful, painful memories for her, too. Just the smell of the earth had memories rushing to the fore but she fought them off so that she could comfort the child shaking in her arms.
