His Heart's Home (7 page)

He was painfully conscious of how exposed he was. Duncan had acted without thinking.  He had heard the rumor rippling through the line that Aidan was missing, and the devastation on Ciaran’s face confirmed it was true. He had simply turned
and left.  Despite the rashness of his action, he knew he would have done the same if he had stopped to think. Ciaran needed him, and he owed her. At last, he could repay her for the harm he’d done. Even if he didn’t, Duncan couldn’t bear to leave a child alone in the woods, not without trying to find him.

Duncan’s grip on the reigns tightened as his thoughts raced back through time, reminding him of when
he
had been the little boy all alone. He had only been a little older than Aidan, just before his brother Ewan was born. An older cousin had convinced him the arrival of the new baby meant he was being replaced, and so he had decided to run away.

A shiver ran along his spine as he remembered the journey he had made, sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night,
convinced
the ghosts from every story he’d ever heard were nipping at his heels until the sun finally lightened the sky. By breakfast time he’d been weary and bitterly regretting his choice. He wanted to go home. But the light snowfall that had started had worsened so he didn’t know where to go. When it stopped, the temperature had fallen. It got so cold that his body ached.

It was many years before Duncan knew that sort of misery again
- not only the physical pain, but the
ache
of feeling unwanted, of feeling no one would care enough to notice he was missing at all, and the terrible horror of being alone. Lost and frightened, even simple noises sounded like monsters and tiny challenges seemed immense. He could remember, all too well, the panic that Aidan must feel now, and it spurred him to hurry his pace.

“
Aidan!” Duncan called, finally deciding he was being watched already. Calling out wasn’t going to tip the Indians off any more than they already were. “Aidan Connelly!” he yelled.

There wasn’t any answer.

Duncan continued forward, looking doggedly from side to side. “Aidan!” he called out the name until his voice was raw, but there was never a sign of the child. Finally he made it back to where they had crossed the river. This was the end of the line.

Aidan couldn’t make it across alone.

Duncan peered into the water, almost afraid of what he would see. The current was too strong for a little boy.
If he’d tried to go into the water…

No
!

Duncan had come too far to accept that fate. He must have overlooked something
, or Aidan had wandered off the trail. Even the thought the boy might have been kidnapped by the natives was preferable to believing he’d drowned.

Duncan wheeled his horse around and began to look again.

“Aidan!” he cried more desperately. “Aidan, lad! You’ve got to come along!”

He rode another half mile up the trail, back in the direction he’d come, and then he doubled back again. He didn’t want to catch up with the others. He couldn’t face Ciaran without her son.

“Oh, Laddie, where are you?” Duncan whispered, pausing for a moment and putting his head in his hands. He was missing something. He
must be.

Duncan jerked in the saddle as a new sound met his ears
.

Crying?

He almost didn’t believe it, convinced his mind was playing tricks.

“M-m-ma-ma!” a tiny voice warbled, and Duncan leapt down from his horse.

“Aidan!” he cried out hoarsely, trying to follow the sound. Almost as soon as he spoke, however, the crying stopped. There wasn’t any sound at all.

Duncan groaned in frustration. He was
sure
he’d heard the boy. He
must
be close. Why wouldn’t he answer?

“Aidan! It’s Mister MacRae! Your mama sent me, laddie!”

Duncan held his breath.

Then, to his immense relief, he heard a rustling of leaves and, a second later, a pair of weepy blue eyes
peeked up at him from inside a fallen log.

“Aidan!” Duncan said in relief, bending over and scooping the child up into his arms.

“I t-thought you was the injuns!” Aidan admitted, lower lip quivering. “I thought you were going to cut off my head!”

“Awww, no lad!” Duncan told him. “Of course I’m not. I’ve come to fetch you. You wandered off again.”

“I’m
sorry
!” Aidan blurted, bursting once more into tears. Duncan squeezed him closer and rocked him for a moment or two, but then he felt the prickling again.
Duncan
might not have any intention of scalping the boy, but that didn’t mean the child was
safe.

“Well, everything’s better now,” Duncan told him, carrying the child to his horse. “We’ve got to go now,” he said in a low, gentle voice. “Your mama’s awfully worried!” He thought it better not to mention what Aidan’s father’s reaction had been.

“I’m s-sorry!” Aidan said again, and it was obvious he meant it. The misery on the child’s face was matched only by what Ciaran’s had been.

Duncan nodded his head and hoisted the child onto the saddle before climbing up on his own. He nudged the stallion in the ribs, but didn’t let him run. He couldn’t guess why the Indian’s hadn’t descended on them yet, but it seemed wise to maintain the status quo. Maybe if they thought he wasn’t watching they’d be willing to leave him alone? Probably they were holding off on a raid for fear that the resultant gunfire would alert the other’s to their position.

Duncan reached around the boy, casually fingering the stalk of the rifle laid across the seat. Luckily, he’d had time to prime and load the pistol as soon as rumors started flying around the camp. He had
one shot
that he could use.

The minutes seemed to crawl by as they rode back to the wagons. With every step, Duncan’s dread continued to grow. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger. He didn’t dare turn his head to the side, but thought he caught a glimpse of the
natives from the corner of his eye. He forced his expression to remain calm, and focused his energy on chattering with the little boy.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he rounded a bend and saw the wagon train winding through the pass below.

An anxious shout went up at the sound of his horse, but Duncan waved his hand in the air, reassuring the others it was only him. He rode quickly to the head of the line - to Ciaran.

..ooOOoo..

Ciaran’s eyes had almost swollen shut from crying.  Duncan had been gone for
so long
.  She was starting to fear she had really sent him to his death along with Aidan. 
Her baby! How could any mother bear to outlive their child? 
Ciaran honestly didn’t know how she was going to be able to carry on if she had truly lost her son.  What if he was still alive out there somewhere, suffering and all alone?  

A frightened shout went up from the back of the wagon train and Ciaran’s heart
lurched in her chest. 

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about outliving Aidan after all?

Although it was panicky at first, the noise quickly became jubilant, and, as it worked its way up though the train, distinct.

“Laird MacRae!  Laird MacRae’s back!”

Ciaran twisted around and hung over the side of the wagon to look behind. 
Duncan! 
Duncan had returned?  Did he have Aidan?

“Turn around, Ciaran,” Sean snarled, reaching for her with one hand so that he could drag her back down beside him.

“I just want to see-” she started to plead, but broke off with a cry when Sean pinched the soft skin of her arm hard.  Ciaran blinked back more tears.  How could any man be
so
heartless?  Didn’t he care about Aidan
at all?
  

“I know what you want to see,” Sean spat.  “You know he’s only pretending to give a damn about Aidan to get you on your back!” he hissed cruelly.

Ciaran sucked in her breath and tried not to let Sean’s words touch her as she twisted around again.  She didn’t care what he said or thought.  She just wanted to see her boy.

“Aidan!”

Ciaran almost couldn’t believe her eyes!  There was her son, looking upset, but not hurt as he sat on Duncan MacRae’s horse, just in front of the Scot himself.

“You found him!” Ciaran croaked, reaching out her trembling arms to take her son from Duncan.  “You really did…” she whispered, convinced she must have been dreaming.  No one had ever done anything so amazing
and selfless for her before.

“Aye, I did,” Duncan murmured.  He privileged Ciaran
with a smile that seemed to melt her very bones, but before she could offer any further words of thanks he spurred his horse on and went chasing after LaSoeur.

“God, you’re disgusting,” Sean growled menacingly.

Ciaran flinched.  There would be hell to pay later, but right now, she didn’t care.  She had her baby back and Laid MacRae was safe as well.  She hugged Aidan tightly, fussing over him as much as he would let her.  He didn’t appear unwilling to be coddled, which told Ciaran how scared he must have been - thank the lord for Duncan MacRae!

The Scot, it seemed, was having a disagreement with LaSoeur.  Ciaran frowned when she saw the two men were arguing.  She couldn’t make out what was being said but Duncan seemed to want the wagon train to stop
. Ciaran shuddered at the thought. Wouldn’t they do better to keep moving
?

After a minute or two more
, Duncan threw up his hands in apparent disgust.  He turned away from the Frenchman and rode back to his own men, yelling orders at them to dig in and prepare to fight.

“LaSoeur!  What the hell is going on?” Sean barked the question at the Frenchman as he rode past trying to get the wagon train moving again.  Everyone had slowly drifted to a stop when they saw Laird MacRae arguing with their guide.

“Pfft!  It is nothing!  The Scotsman is crazy!  We must move to ‘higher ground! 
Vite!  Quickly
!”

Why was Duncan crazy? 
That was what Ciaran wanted to know, but LaSoeur had already ridden off again and Sean had cracked the whip over their horses and got the wagon moving again.

“I’m scared, Mama,” Aidan whispered.

“Me too,” whimpered Liam, poking his head out from inside the bed of the wagon, where he and his older brothers were curled up underneath a tarp.

“Cowards!” Sean berated them harshly.  Despite her fear, from the Indians
and
her husband, Ciaran felt her anger start to rise.  It wasn’t fair of Sean to always be putting the boys down.  They were just children.

“
Connelly!”

All of a sudden Duncan rode his horse in front
of Sean and Ciaran’s wagon, forcing their animals to stop.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sean snarled.

“You aren’t going to do what that French idiot tells you, are you?” Duncan demanded.

“Well I’m sure as hell not doing what
you
say!”

“Sean, please?”
Ciaran begged, looking between the two men.  “What do you think we should do, Duncan?” she asked timidly.  He cast what looked like a sympathetic glance in her direction.

“Stay with us and make a stand here.  We’ve still got a little time to form defenses if we-”

“Shut up, MacRae!  We’re not in Scotland now, and you’re not my
laird
.”

Ciaran watched Duncan clench his jaw, and she drew Mary even closer to her breast.  What sort of a temper
did
Duncan have?

“I don’t have time for this,” he snarled, shaking his head.  “You can go ahead and take your chances if you like, but you have a wife and five bairns who might want to live.”  He looked straight at Ciaran when he spoke next.  “
Do
you?”

“Sean, maybe- maybe we should listen to Mister MacRae?”

Sean went an ugly shade of red.  A vein pulsed in his temple and a muscle twitched in his jaw.  For a second Ciaran was afraid he was going to reach across and strike her, but at the last moment he seemed to get a handle on himself.

“Fine, do whatever you want, Ciaran, but if you go now don’t think you’ll be welcome to come back.”

“Don’t make it too hard a decision for her now,” Duncan muttered under his breath, his voice laced with such heavy sarcasm that Ciaran thought he was a little lucky Sean hadn’t heard him. 

Duncan was right though
. There wasn’t really any choice. Clasping Mary to her breast, tugging Aidan along, and hoping the other boys would follow, Ciaran climbed out of the wagon before she could change her mind.  She couldn’t see yet, but Avery, Ryan and Liam hopped out the back of the wagon too.

Sean looked down at her in disgust.  His face
clearly saying if the Indians didn’t kill her,
he
would.