“Thank you anyway.”
They set off again a minute later, stopping when they reached a tiny little settlement nestled in a hidden valley. There were two little cottages to the left of the road separated by a pond. On the right was a broch that had been altered over time, wooden planks added where the stone had crumbled.
All the buildings were topped by thatch and smoke was curling up through them into the evening sky, the smell reminding Lindsey of the campfires she’d experienced back when her mom was well enough to take her out into the wilderness.
That was where she first learned about wood carving, those trips together. She examined the carved S in the doorframe of the nearest farmhouse, a crude face had been scored below, marked deep into the wood.
The face had been painted a long time ago, the colors faded to little more than grays and browns, hard to see in the dying light. How would something like that look on Tavish’s house when she got back?
“We may find shelter here for the night,” Tavish said, bringing the horse to a stop. He held out a hand to Lindsey and she took it, her tiny fingers swallowed by his massive fist as he effortlessly lifted her from the horse, his hands sliding to grab her waist when she began to fall.
He set her down on the ground. The feel of his hands on her remained for some time after he stepped back. She shook the feeling away, watching as he slapped the horse on the rear a moment later. “Off you go, lass.”
Lindsey knew she was imagining it but the neigh the horse gave sounded very much like it understood what Tavish had said. It vanished back the way it came, leaving the two of them alone.
The sun finally vanished behind the rolling hills in the distance, the land turning shades of red, making it look like the fields were on fire.
They walked toward the nearest building. From inside they could hear a woman singing. “The Highland lassie waits long for her man. He will nay come this way ever again.”
“I ken that wee ditty,” Tavish said, putting his ear to the door. “My father used to sing it to me when I was a bairn.”
He knocked on the door while Lindsey attempted to imagine him as a child. She couldn’t do it no matter how hard she tried.
The singing stopped and the door scraped open, revealing a woman in her thirties, hair as red as the setting sun. “What do ye want?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Tavish kept his head hidden under his hood as he spoke. “We are pilgrims from the south o’ your land. We seek shelter for the night.”
“You’ll get none here.”
“Who is it, Agnes?” a voice shouted from inside.
“Beggars,” she yelled back. “You keep stirring the broth. Merida’ll be hungry as a bear when she wakes.”
“We will sleep in yon barn,” Tavish said. “It wasnae a request.”
The man appeared, a red-headed infant in his arms. “Ye can sleep in the stable if ye be Christians. Heathen English plague these lands and the cattle stopped milking last time they were here.”
“Ah am indebted tae ye,” Tavish said, clasping his hands together before the woman could contradict her husband.
“It’s behind the house,” the woman said. “Mind ye dinnae touch anything in there. I ken how many turnips are nestled in the straw.”
She closed the door a second later. Before they’d taken two steps it opened again and out was thrust a pair of apples without a word. Tavish took them and nodded his thanks to the already closed door.
“This way,” he said, passing her an apple as he walked around the woodpile to the back of the house. A barn was sticking out of the rear of the building, the sweet smell of straw emanating from inside.
Two minutes later Lindsey was nestled comfortably in the straw, her eyes sagging almost at once. Her thighs ached from gripping the horse and she was desperate to soak her aching feet.
She settled for removing her sneakers and socks, lying back on the straw and munching the apple as Tavish looked out the barn door to the countryside beyond.
Her eyes closed before she knew what was happening. The next thing she knew she was dreaming. She knew it was a dream because she was back home. Mom was asleep in the chair by the tiny little single bar electric heater. It glowed orange but she couldn’t feel the heat from it. That was strange. At least Mom had persuaded them to turn the electricity back on.
“Where are you?” Rhona asked in her sleep.
“I’m coming back,” Lindsey replied. Her mom stirred but didn’t open her eyes. “I’ll be home soon, mom.”
“Are you safe?” Rhona asked, still not opening her eyes.
“I’m safe. I’m with Tavish Sinclair.”
