Chapter Eight
Jake learns how his father handles his anger.
Jake paced the lists. Every once in a while, he’d swing his sword at one opponent or another, but then he’d return to his pacing.
His sire came along mounted on his horse and said, “We trust Ashlyn, or we would not have sent her.”
“Aye, but can I not go after her? She should be on her return voyage by now.”
“Nay, ‘twould endanger her cover. I have a job for you.” He tossed the reins of a second horse over to him.
“Now?” Jake gritted his teeth as he stared at his sire. He wished to go against everything his sire had just said, but he could not.
“I need a few trees cut down.”
He motioned for Jake to follow him, so he did. They moved out through the forest, moving in the direction that Ashlyn had gone, which only made him even more eager to ride out to greet her.
He galloped behind his sire, feeling the wind in his hair, something he did love, so that helped a bit. His sire brought him through a maze until he finally came to a stop in a clearing. Jake dismounted, staring at his sire. “This is where you go to chop trees when you are upset?” It had long been his sire’s habit. Alex always went alone. The twins had oft begged to go along with him, but he’d always denied them. He’d return a few hours later with a smile on his face. Now his sire had finally brought him here.
Jake was stunned, completely stunned, taking everything in about the special place.
“Aye,” his father said with a grin. “Do you not approve?” Once he dismounted, he walked over to a large, flat rock that sat atop a hill overlooking Grant land, quite a steep drop beneath them.
Once Jake stood next to his sire, he took a deep breath, shaking his head at the beauty. He’d never seen anything like it.
Alex Grant pointed at all the tree stumps in the clearing. “I judged this to be the best vantage point on our land, and thereare plenty of trees to handle my anger when I feel the need.” He glanced at his son. “Did I judge well?”
Jake stood next to his father, looking him straight in the eye. “Papa, when did I get to be as tall as you?”
“Och, you’ve been the size of me for a while, lad. What do you think of my clearing?”
Jake whispered, “Brilliant and beautiful, Papa. All this time, you came here?”
His sire nodded, a smug smile on his face. “Aye. I learned long ago that my bark was too loud for your mother, so when I could feel it building inside me, I came out here. It took me a year to find the exact spot, but ever since then, I’ve come here to trim trees.” He nodded toward all the stumps in sight. “I always go back with a smile on my face. This location also has another advantage—it gives me a perfect view of anyone who’s fool enough to try attacking my land. ‘Twas time to invite you along. Your mother wouldn’t allow me when you were a laddie because of the steep drop.”
“I could spend hours here,” Jake commented, almost in a trance as he took in everything about the place.
His sire clasped his shoulder as they stared out over the land, and Alex pointed. “My eyes are not the same anymore. Do you see anyone on the rise?”
Jake glanced beneath them, at the path that wound through the forest, across the stream, and through the meadow where Uncle Robbie and Loki had fought Malcolm Murray. Memories flooded his mind, and all fell into place at once, but then he noticed something. His hand shot out, pointing at a spot in the trees down below. “I think I see several horses there. Aye, ‘tis Ashlyn.”
“Well, then grab an axe. She’ll not be here for another hour, and I need a few more trees felled. I like to keep your mama warm in the winter.”
Jake smiled as he doffed his tunic and grabbed the axe. Choosing a tree on the other side of the clearing, he swung and swung, the only other sounds being the crack of his father’s axe on a tree and the birds in flight over the treetops through the stir of the turning leaves. Hellfire, he had a few more things to learn from his sire yet.
“Papa?” He wiped the sweat from his brow once his first tree fell. “I think we should build a bench or two out here.” Glancing at his father’s powerful body, he wondered if he’d ever have the same strength.
His father stopped for a moment, then broke into a broad grin. “A bench? Nay, your sire is getting too old. I need a chair with a back to it.”
“Papa, you are not that old. We could take the time to relax after we finish our work. And if we leave a few stumps up higher, we’ll have a table.” Jake waited to see if his father would approve of what he was suggesting. “Do you ever come out here with Uncle Robbie or Uncle Brodie?”
“Nay. Neither shares my temper, but ‘tis the best way to release it.” He scanned the area, apparently considering Jake’s proposal. “I like the idea of having an ale or two with my son after we’re done chopping wood.”
“And Jamie, too?”
“Probably not. He would be welcome, but he does not share my temper. I’m afraid you and I are the only ones with it. You have to have it to appreciate this place and its purpose.”
Jake couldn’t stop himself from staring at his father’s creation, taking in the beauty and the quiet of the place. “I feel better already. I’d like to build the chairs. If I get the opportunity, it will take my mind off Aline until she returns.”
