He made his search wider with each pass, extremely resentful of the time it took, as he carefully scrutinized the ground for anything out of the ordinary. Single-mindedly, he shut everything else out, putting all his focus and energy into the task. Again, and again, he searched the ground. ’Twas a familiar, yet tedious, process and required patience. He’d had a devil of a time teaching that to Angus, but the lad had proven himself a good pupil, time and again. He’d even shared his skills with Gregor, when he’d joined them to track Redcoats, and their sympathizers.
Och! Here, near the underbrush, the smallest bit of a toe print. “See it?” He’d raised up to point it out to Angus and realized he’d been somewhere else entirely, in his head. In a time far removed from this world, he’d been with highland warriors, tracking English Redcoats.
He staggered back a step, dizzy from the realization that he may well have lost his rational mind. The dreams of a different century. Soni’s voice. His footprints in a place that he’d no’ walked into. His bond with Angus. Even now he felt the brotherhood of their friendship, wi’ just the thought of his name, and Gregor’s.
No’ now, he pleaded. He’d yearned for his memories to return, but he couldna deal with the confusion they brought, now. He had to find Brie. He could sink into madness once she was safe.
Trembling, he dropped to one knee, praying the toe print was real and not part of his fantasy. He nearly cried with relief as he traced the edge of the print with his finger. ’Twas narrow and not too deep. Too thin and shallow for a man.
Brie’s!
“Gus!” he called. When the dog came, Alistair indicated the print. Gus sniffed all around it and whined. “Find her, Gus.” The dog turned and disappeared into the bushes. Alistair continued his study of the ground, alert for the next sign his cunning lass left for him.
Gus searched. Mac searched, but the weight of time, disappointment and mounting fear, clutched at his mind with visions far too vivid. What had Brie called the scoundrel? The Mountain Man? What had prompted him to take her? What cruelties was he capable of? Any fool would ken he couldna let Brie live and still keep his secrets.
That he’d taken Brie was mayhap a sign that he dinna intend to harm her right away, and might have given Alistair the time he needed, if he’d no’ wasted so much of it following empty footprints to nowhere!
If something happened to Brie, ’twould be his fault. Memory or no’, he couldna live with the loss of her.
Gus pawed at a spot littered with pine needles. Alistair kneeled to examine it closer but dinna see anything significant. Then he realized the needles had been spread too perfectly, like a carefully laid blanket.
“Good boy, Gus.” Very gently, Alistair swept them aside, a few at a time. Beneath them, he found Brie’s print, deeper this time as if she’d intentionally pressed it into the mud.
Further on, with Gus’s help, Alistair discovered a bush where a twig had been freshly broken from the tip and the branch bent low to the inside, to hide the damage. But the leaves around the stem had been bruised in the process. Barely detectable, but a sign, nonetheless.
The time expense weighed heavy on Alistair’s mind as they made their way through thick undergrowth, almost to the edge of a curved ridge, when Gus jumped onto a fallen log, sniffed all along it, then whined and pawed at the grass below.
Alistair studied both the grass and log. The blades were bent, and several small shallow cuts marred the smooth bark of the log. Alistair sat on it, placed his hands over the marks and smiled. Clever Brie. She’d known he would follow and she’d done all she could to help him.
“Let’s go,” he called to Gus who’d hopped to the other side of the log to sniff at something. “Gus! Come!” Alistair ordered, anxious to be on their way, but the dog laid down, whimpered, and wouldna budge.
“Gus!” he called again, but when the dog still refused to move, Alistair joined him. “What is it?” He stepped over the log. As soon as he did, Gus jumped up and pawed at the grass. Alistair’s careful search yielded a small circle of gold. Brie’s ring! She’d worn it on her little finger, nervously twisting it when she’d shared her heartbreaking story about her father.
“ ’Tis a grand tracker, ye are, Gus!” He gave the dog an enthusiastic hug. “The lads would be mighty proud to have a keen dog such as ye, join ‘em.”
Alistair slipped Brie’s ring into his sporran, realizing he’d begun thinking and speaking more and more gibberish. Setting his confusion aside once more, he rose and moved on. His madness would have to wait.
After studying the curved ridge to his right and the dense, tangled brush to his left, Alistair couldna imagine anyone getting through that bramble. He chose the ridge, watchful of any sign that told him he’d chosen correctly. On the other end, a high mountain rose up to his left, far too steep and craggy to drag Brie up. At least he hoped so.
Following his instincts and Gus’s lead, he started down a sloping valley. A little over halfway, he spotted the edge of a heel print. It looked as though someone had stepped onto a flat rock but dragged a heel just enough to leave the mark. ’Twas enough to give Alistair a measure of encouragement.
At the end of the drainage, a large dead tree stood sentry over a much sharper incline. Gus ran ahead to a group of flat rocks, where he sniffed, circled, and sniffed some more. Alistair caught up with him and examined the surface.
Several pieces of gravel had been stepped on and ground over the stone face, leaving small white scratches in their wake. The direction they’d scattered suggested Brie and her captor had gone further downhill, over that bedrock.
He continued that direction and caught his breath as the edge of a wide, deep ravine came into view.He’d brought Brie here? Why?Panic clogged his throat as he considered the possibilities.
Gus raced ahead, through a split between two large boulders, bounding from rock to rock. Alistair followed as fast as he could and emerged on a narrow stone shelf.
“Brie,” he whispered, seeing nothing but this empty, narrow ledge and a terrifyingly deep canyon in front of him. Dread twisted his gut.
Gus moved along the rock shelf, nose to the ground. Alistair’s heart leapt into his throat when the dog suddenly sprang onto a group of boulders that spilled over the edge, and disappeared.
“No, Gus!” he yelled. But ’twas too late.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the dim light, the cave appeared wide, but low ceilinged. Brie shivered, both from the cold and the throbbing pain in her ankle, the swelling stretching the limits of her boot. Her back burned. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were bits of gravel imbedded beneath the skin. But, she’d never been so happy to slam into a boulder!
