Then Els saw her. His heart leaped into his throat, threatening to cut off his air, as he dropped his sword and moved over to the unmoving body on the floor. He knelt next to her while Alasdair moved over to a pallet in the corner, lifting the blankets off of it as he called to his son.
Els leaned down to listen and sighed, grateful to hear shallow breaths. He carefully lifted her and Alasdair did his best to help him.
“Joya? Can you hear me?” Alasdair said. “Where’s John?”
Nothing. She didn’t even move.
Alasdair quickly checked the second chamber but hurried back out, shaking his head.
John wasn’t here.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re sure she’s alive?” Alasdair asked.
“Aye, but she’s in trouble.” Els whispered, “Joya? Where is John? Is he here or did they move him somewhere?” He took in the bruises on her face, the one swollen eye crusted over with blood, the bruises on her arm, and he didn’t need to see any more. She’d been beaten for some reason, and her body was fighting to hold on.
Had she been discovered in her capacity as Bruce’s spy? If so, it was a wonder she’d been left alive.
“Mayhap the sheriff took him,” Alasdair said, pacing the room. “He took the arrow and pulled it out, getting on his horse and leaving while the others stayed and fought. Fine leader he was. I didn’t notice if he had anyone or anything with him, but mayhap he carried a sack? Or could John be tied to a tree in the back?” He touched Joya’s cheek and said, “Joya, help us, please.”
She still hadn’t stirred at all, so Els shook his head at his cousin and gently carried her outside. Alasdair followed him. “John’s not in here,” he said to the others. “Look around everywhere. He could be tied to a tree or hidden somewhere.”
They all searched, but then something occurred to Els. “Papa, can you hold her for a moment?” he asked. When hisfather agreed, he gently handed her over to his sire’s capable hands. “Alasdair, come with me.”
Alasdair raced to his side, his face anxious. “Did you find him?”
“Nay,” Els said, “but I think I might know where he is.”
“Then find him!” his cousin barked, more anxious than Els had ever seen him.
Els stepped back inside the hut and, adopting a more playful tone, said, “I wonder where John is. I think he’s hiding from the English. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to find him.”
A slight moan carried to them, but it didn’t sound like his cheerful nephew.
“John?” Alasdair whispered, he guessed because the poor man was afraid the precious sound would disappear.
Els pointed to the back of the hut, near a pile of rags that suddenly appeared to be moving. “I wonder where John’s hiding.” He moved slowly toward the back, talking along the way. “He’s not under the table, not under the bed. Can you find him, Papa?”
More unidentifiable noises. Grandsire and Dyna entered the hut but didn’t say anything, giving Els the chance to finish the game. “I think he’s in the corner,” he whispered to Alasdair. He was almost upon him when John jumped out from the pile of rags he’d been hiding under and said, “I hiding. I scared.”
His father reached for him and grabbed him close, and Els could swear he saw tears in Alasdair’s eyes. “Don’t worry, John. Papa’s here withSeanairand Uncle Els.”
“Bad men.” He pointed toward the front of the hut. “Hurt her.”
“The bad men are gone, son. They’ll not hurt you. We’ll take Joya home with us and help her. Will that please you?”
The lad nodded and hugged his father.
“Check him for injuries, Alasdair,” Grandsire said. “Is he bleeding anywhere? Any bumps on his head?”
They carried him out into the moonlight. “He might need a bath,” Alasdair said in awe, “but otherwise, he looks fine. My thanks to you, Els.” He gave him a brief nod, then stared at his son again. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but it makes perfect sense. Wise laddie hid from the bad men.”
John’s face lit up, and he called out to his grandfather, “Greetings,Seanair. I Aleshander Grant.”
Grandsire ruffled the lad’s dark hair and said, “Aye, I believe you are, laddie.”
Da said, “He’ll be the next one, I’m guessing.”
