Page 14 of Highland Spy

Her face turned red and her eyes lowered. “I have nothin’ further to say to ye. Now, keep yer mouth closed about me stayin’ here all night.” She spun on her heel and grabbed for her bag. When she picked it up, Slink poked his head out and she screamed and dropped it. Slink ran out and climbed up the railing, disappearing up in the rafters.

“Bridget?” came her father’s voice from down in the stables. “Bridget, is that ye? Where are ye, Daughter?”

“My da!” She grabbed her bag and hurried to the ladder, descending so fast that Caleb was surprised she didn’t fall. When she’d picked up the bag, Caleb saw the Highland Chronicle book fall out and into the hay. He was going to tell her, but remained quiet. He figured she’d be furious if he made his presence known when her father was down below.

“I just came out for a breath of fresh air,” he heard her telling her father as they exited the barn.

Caleb chuckled, picking up the book, realizing that a bottle of ink had fallen out as well. And when Slink came down out of the rafters and wandered over with a quill in his mouth, Caleb shook his head.

“Ye’re stealin’ and hidin’ things again, ye little thief,” he told his pet. “Ye really seem to like that quill. Och, Bridget is goin’ to be furious when she finds out she lost it again.” He took the quill from Slink. “I think we’d better give this as well as the ink and book back to her before there’s hell to pay,” he told the pine marten. “After all, ye ken she’ll blame us for stealin’ it.”

He gathered up the things and was about to descend the ladder when he had a thought. Walking over to the window, he peered out to see Bridget and her father walking back to the tavern. Logan passed them by with his wolf at his side, heading for the barn. “On second thought, I think there is a way of gettin’ into the Highland Chronicles after all.” He chuckled, sitting down with the book on his lap and uncorking the bottle of ink.

“Caleb, are ye in here?” came Logan’s bellow a few minutes later from down in the barn.

“Up here,” Caleb called out, blowing on the ink to dry it on the pages.

Logan appeared at the top of the ladder. “What the hell are ye doin’? We need to get on the road if we’re ever goin’ to make it to Hermitage Castle. As it is, it looks like rain.”

“Just a moment,” he said, blowing on the ink once more.

“That looks like the Highland Chronicles,” said Logan, cocking his head, stepping off the ladder. His shoulder-length blond hair looked mussed, as if he’d just woken up.

“It is,” Caleb answered smugly.

“And ye’re writin’ in it?” His eyes opened wide in surprise. “What is goin’ on here?”

“I deserve to be mentioned in this book just as much as any of ye,” Caleb told him. “And since Bridget refused to get her faither to add me to it, I decided to just do it myself.” He slapped the book closed and stood up grinning from ear to ear.

“Let me see what ye wrote,” said Logan with an outstretched hand.

“No’ now. Ye said we’ve got to get on the road before it rains.” Caleb gathered up his sword and put the quill and ink in his pouch along with his pine marten, holding the book under his arm.

“Ye’re right,” said Logan, gesturing toward the ladder. “Ye first, guid friend.”

“Why thank ye.” When Caleb started to step on to the ladder, Logan snatched the book from under his arm.

“Nay! Give that back.” Caleb grabbed for it but lost his balance and ended up falling from the ladder into a pile of hay on his back far below. The travel bag landed atop him. Slink stuck his head out of the bag and hissed. “Ooooh,” mumbled Caleb, feeling his headache from the effects of last night’s whisky. And now his body also ached from his fall.

Suddenly, Logan started laughing. He poked his head over the top of the ladder, holding the open book in his hands. He read it aloud. “Caleb is perhaps the most heroic and noble of the MacKeefe Clan. He helps lassies in distress with his rock-hard muscles, protectin’ them from the enemy as well as shieldin’ them from the harsh elements of nature. Praises for him and his pine marten are often sung by the bards that travel the lands.” Logan laughed heartily. “What bards? And rock-hard muscles? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever read.”

“It wasna meant to be funny,” grumbled Caleb, getting up and gathering his things. Jack ran into the barn, causing Slink to jump up atop the wall of one the stalls. The pine marten climbed up high so the wolf wouldn’t get him.

“Next, ye’ll be sayin’ ye should be crowned King of Scotland. Mayhap King of England as well.” Logan slammed the book shut and tossed it down to Caleb.

Caleb caught it and shoved it into his bag. “It’s no’ a lie. No’ really,” he grumbled. “After all, Bridget said last night my arms were rock-heavy. And that I kept her warm.”

“Rock-heavy isna the same thing as rock-hard, Caleb. I think yer head is rock-hard for doin’ this. Dinna ye think ye stretched the truth a little, just wantin’ to get mentioned in the Highland Chronicles?” Logan started down the ladder.

“No’ anymore than her faither did while writin’ about all of ye. I swear she convinced him to say all those things because she just wanted ye all to like her.”

“Do I detect a tinge of jealousy in that statement?”

“Nay, no’ at all.”

“Do ye think by writin’ in that book ye’re goin’ to get the lass to like ye?” He let out a puff of air from his mouth and shook his head.

“Well . . . nay.” Caleb looked down to his bag that held the book. “Bridget will probably hate me more than ever once she finds out.”