Prologue
“Sean!”
“Aye, da?” Six-year-old Sean McCulloch peered up the great height of his father. Though Da’s expression was hard, as always, his eyes were soft. At length, he sat on a stool and beckoned Sean closer.
Da’s large hands landed heavily on Sean’s shoulders. “Ye’re no’ a bairn any longer, but a lad well on his way tae becomin’ a man. I’ve but one birthday gift tae give ye, son, and I charge ye tae treasure it all of yer days, for there is naught more powerful or precious I could give.”
Sean beamed, eagerly anticipating this rare gift from his father. ’Twas no secret he longed for the wee knife da kept on the high shelf. He’d even let Sean hold it once, explaining the weighty responsibility of owning such a weapon. What Da dinnae ken were the times Sean guiltily climbed up to sneak the knife from the shelf, savoring the feel of it in his palms, anticipating the day it might be his. He’d secretly practiced gripping the hilt with his too-small fingers and imagined helping Da protect their family by fending off attackers.
“The gift I’m about tae give ye will shape yer life, lad, whether ye wish it or no’,” Da instructed. “For all yer life, all ye do will be weighed and measured, according tae its use.”
Sean stood as tall as he could manage, pride and anticipation bubbling in his chest. He curled his fingers at his sides to keep from holding his hand out too soon and spoiling Da’s surprise.
Da’s grip on his shoulders tightened. “Listen carefully and never forget the truth and power of what I’m about tae tell ye!” He leaned so close Sean felt the warmth of Da’s breath fan his cheeks.
“Nae matter what ye do in life, be it good or evil, ye will forever reap what ye sow in thought, action and deed.”
Gone was any softness in Da’s eyes. They were hard as flint and Sean wished mightily to step away, but his da held him fast. “Do ye ken, lad?”
That was it? His great gift? No’ the blade? Nae! He dinnae ken at all.
“I…I think so.” He couldnae disappoint Da. He wouldnae. Especially on this birthday when Da declared Sean old enough tae start becomin’ a man. But thetruth-giftpuzzled him. And in his heart-of-hearts, stung with disappointment. What of the knife? If he was to be a man now, dinnae he need a weapon? Was it no’ his duty to defend his family and all others against harm? How could mere words do that?
Sean ducked his head, blinking back the burn gathering behind his eyes. He’d shamed himself with his greed for the blade. Da was right to ken he wasnae worthy of it yet and needed thistruth-gift, instead, to build his character.
Aye. Da was right. Da was always right.
* * *
The years passed,and on each birthday Da repeated thetruth-gift, charging Sean to hear his words, ken them, live by them. Each year, Sean thought surely ’twould be the year Da thought him finally worthy of the blade that now seemed so small in his wide palm. He rarely took it down anymore. But he never passed the shelf wi’out feeling its taunt.
No’ worthy.
And Sean would vow to do better. Be better.
And he did.
Almost…
Chapter One
Darkness fell fast and hard.
The lack of a moon matched Sean McCulloch’s troubled thoughts as he prowled the perimeter of Wickham’s property. Even the usually spectacular display of stars hid behind a blanket of clouds.
Weariness from trying to justify his opinions and decisions to the other lads who couldnae or wouldnae understand, had driven him outside where he hoped some crisp air and solitude would clear his head and put his thoughts in order.
Everyone, including Wickham, had pressed him for an answer at one point or another.Where will ye go, McCulloch? What’s keeping ye from starting your new life, 63? What are ye waiting on? Have ye no wishes or dreams?
If only they knew! Aye. Wishes and dreams aplenty. And it vexed him to have to keep them tucked away lest they get too large and the temptation to forget his obligations, too big.
But he couldnae begin this new life by dragging the debts of the old one along with him. If only he had a sign. Some clue that would lead him to who, where or how he might pay this weighty debt.
Oh, how he yearned to make restitution for his sind and be done.Be free. Must he set his own desires aside in this life, too? His fingers itched to take a bit of charcoal and sketch the visions cluttering his head. Could he actually capture them on paper, or would they be as elusive as the future that stretched before him?
“Yer troubles have a weight tae them, McCulloch. Enough that evenIfeel it.” Wickham’s voice came out of the darkness, boosting Sean’s newly acquired heartbeat several notches.
“Och!” Sean gasped. “Ye startled me.”
