“He will indeed,” said Mrs. O’Neal as she stepped up and stroked Neddy’s hair where he was tucked in the folds of their skirts, then she looked at Emily. “Any injuries?”
“Iain said just a few nicks and bruises.”
Mrs. O’Neal snorted. “Men. Let us get up there then.”
Deciding she had allowed Iain enough time, Emily nodded. “Just keep the children behind you in case Iain was slower to clean up something than he thought he would be.”
“Might be something left that we need to clean up too,” Mrs. O’Neal murmured.
“Quite possible,” she answered, relieved the woman understood what she meant.
With all the children kept behind them, or their faces pressed into the folds of their skirts, they went up to the kitchen. Emily was surprised but relieved to see Iain mopping up the floor. A quick glance told her the water in the bucket had already been changed so there was little sign of blood. She did wonder what had been done with the body.
“Are the others coming in soon to have their nicks and bruises tended to?” asked Mrs. O’Neal.
Iain smiled faintly at her dry tone of voice. “They will be in as soon as things are tidied up a wee bit.”
“Fair enough. Anything done to my cabin?”
“Nay. It wasnae touched and Matthew had a look about to make sure it was also empty.”
“Good. Okay, kids, you are to go home and take our little Neddy with you. Emily and I have work to do.”
Emily watched as everyone but her and Mrs. O’Neal left the kitchen. It was over, she thought as Mrs. O’Neal watched the children go before searching out the things she would need to put together a hearty meal. No one had been hurt except the ones who had tried to hurt them. She tried not to think much on what the men had to “tidy up” outside. Emily knew she should feel relieved, perhaps even a little triumphant that they had prevailed, but she just felt cold.
The odd mood stayed with her all through the preparation of the meal. She barely spoke during the meal although she carefully studied each one of the brothers to assure herself they were whole. Iain kept giving her long looks filled with curiosity and concern but she ignored them. Emily knew she needed to be alone to shake off the strange mood. For now, she did only what she had to and spoke only when spoken to directly.
“What troubles you, dearie?” asked Mrs. O’Neal after the others left the table and she started to clean up.
“I brought killers to your home, to Iain’s home,” Emily said.
“Nonsense. They brought themselves, the bastards. Whoever wants you and that boy dead will chase you wherever you go. Better you get to a place with high walls and a lot of strong men than out on the trail or in some boardinghouse,” she said as she washed the dishes and Emily wiped them dry.
“This is not Iain’s battle.”
“Ha! It is the battle of any man with a backbone and a solid sense of what is right. This cousin of yours wants to slaughter a woman and a small child, an infant, a babe with no ability to protect himself, and all for gain. It should turn any decent man’s stomach. It is just sad that there are so many men willing to take the money to do his dirty work for him.”
“The MacEnroys saved our lives, mine and Neddy’s. It is a poor repayment for that to drag them into this mess.”
Mrs. O’Neal shook her head. “When you start thinking like that, do one thing for me.”
“What?” Emily asked suspiciously.
“Think of that boy. Think of those big brown eyes going cloudy with death. That is what your lofty principles will gain you if you hang on to them past all good sense. He can stay with us tonight if he wishes.” Mrs. O’Neal walked out leaving Emily with the last of the dishes.
Chastised, Emily finished the dishes. She poured herself a tankard of cider and went to sit on the porch swing. She could hear the faint sounds of the men clearing away all signs of the battle and the death it brought. Emily knew the men who had died were ones who had not quailed at the thought of killing a woman and child but she feared for how causing such death affected the MacEnroys. She could not believe it was an easy thing to kill a man, even one who deserved killing.
She tried to make herself think as Mrs. O’Neal did. Albert and any men he hired were willing to kill a woman and a child so they could enrich themselves. It was the lowest of motives for murder although it was all too common. Any man with honor would feel it was right and just to kill to stop such men. None of the MacEnroys had looked as if they were suffering from what had been done.
She looked over at the O’Neal cottage and sighed. They had fought for that woman and her children, too. If the men had overpowered the MacEnroys they would have killed them all. She had no doubt about that. Emily told herself she should be pleased that she had found men who had the honor and the stomach to do what was right and just. She just wished she could have taken care of it all herself.
A small choked laugh escaped her. She had not been able to take of Albert and the men he hired even back in England. The family members who had stood with her were dead. The others simply thought her an hysterical female. It was the height of irony that Scots torn from their home by her kind were the ones who worked so hard to keep her and Neddy alive.
“Emily?”
She looked up and saw Iain move toward her, taking a seat by her side. He did not look as if he carried any weight for what he had done to keep her and Neddy safe. No ghosts appeared to haunt his expression. Emily wondered if there was something in the male mind and heart that made them able to accept deaths caused by their hands if those deaths could be justified.
“It has been a long, miserable day,” she said.
