MacFarlane's Ridge (12 page)

"Hello," murmured Cam, focusing on the bowl of stew that had been plopped in front of her. She poked with her spoon at a chunk of potato.

Gerthe sat down beside her, and Cam felt the bench sag a bit. “It is good bread,
ja
? I baked it this afternoon.” She scrutinized Cam. “For a sister, you do not look much like Herr MacFarlane.”

“Gerthe!” scolded Frau Wagner. “Your manners, child!”

Cam peeked up over her bread at Rob, who was looking everywhere but at her. “Actually,” she lied, “we’re half-brother and sister.” Startled, he shot her a look. “In fact, I didn’t know he was my brother until very recently.”

“Ah,” nodded Gerthe wisely. “Different mothers.”

“Yes,” smiled Cam. “You know how men are.”

Gerthe rolled her eyes and nodded vigorously.

“Ach, you poor child,” muttered the older woman. “Herr MacFarlane has made you travel far, has he not? Is this who you were hunting on the Fairy Mountain?” She made a scolding sound in the back of her throat. “You have near killed this poor girl with traveling. Look how thin she is!”

Cam blinked. She couldn’t remember ever hearing anyone say that about her before. Mrs. Wagner patted her on the head, and arranged a pallet for her in front of the fire. Cam was exhausted, and made no attempt to argue with the formidable
hausfrau
.

Later, in the black of night, she awoke struggling for air. She couldn’t breathe, and was being sucked deeper and deeper into a whirling vortex. Then someone was there, someone safe, who held her until the terror passed, and she had drifted back off, the dream forgotten.

When Cameron woke, it was still dark. The flames in the great fireplace were now just glowing embers, and she was warm under a thick quilt. She could hear noises in the other room as the Wagners dressed and prepared for their morning chores. The door opened and a cold breeze blew in, as one of the children returned from a trip to the privy. Overhead, there was a scuffling sound, as the rest of the children moved about. Cam lay there, content, snuggled under her blanket. As the sun rose outside, visibility in the room increased. She had an itch in the small of her back, and as she reached her hand back to scratch herself, she hit something soft. Maybe it was Charlie. Cautiously, she pushed her quilt away and peered over her shoulder. Cam gasped. Rob MacFarlane was just a few inches away from her. His eyes were open, and he was looking right at her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “You scared me to death!”

He smiled. “Frau Wagner wouldn’t let me sleep in the barn. She said it was too cold out there. And I expect she wanted you to protect me in case of advances from certain parties.”

“Oh. Well, glad I could help, I guess,” she conceded. She burrowed a bit further under her quilt and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked quite harmless, and as he sat up to stretch, she couldn’t help but look at him. He had removed his shirt at some point in the night, and she saw that his arms were lean and muscular. As he turned to the side, she caught a glimpse of a smooth and hardened chest. There was some sort of tattoo – a mermaid, it looked like -- on his left shoulder. She glanced away before he could notice her watching him. He lay back down, and propped himself up on one elbow beside her.

“So,” he began, “if we leave this morning we should make it back to the Ridge by tomorrow afternoon. Hold yourself still a moment. There’s a wee bit of something in your hair.” He reached a hand toward her face, and she froze. He brushed a tangled lock off her cheek. She hoped he couldn’t see her shiver. It had been such a small gesture, but such an intimate one, the sort of thing a man would do for his lover, she thought.

“As I was saying, we should travel fairly quickly now that we’re off the mountain,” he continued. “Are you well, lass? You have a queer look on your face.”

Cam nodded. “Fine,” she said softly. She was terribly disconcerted. His face was just inches from hers and she could smell him. He smelled warm and musky and comforting. She realized she liked waking up next to him, liked looking at him in the dusk from under a blanket. She sat up quickly, pulling herself away from him, and looked around the room, forcing herself not to look at him.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and wrapping the quilt around her, scampered out the door to the privy. The cold air on her face and the snow on her bare feet quickly brought her back to reality.

Robert MacFarlane was thoroughly disappointed in himself. When he had first encountered Cameron Clark he had thought her quite unappealing. She dressed in men’s clothes and looked like a vagrant, and was much too forward in her speech and demeanor. She was too thin and her skin was too tan for a white woman. They had ridden together for a few days now, and it had been like traveling with a younger sister. At first she had tried to make conversation, but he hadn’t responded often, so she had left things alone. Cam said she had come from Charleston, although he had been to Charleston and had never seen women in trousers. In fact, he had practically forgotten she was female.

And then she had awakened in the night, gasping for air, in the throes of a nightmare. He had held her until she calmed, and she fell back to sleep almost instantly. Now, in a morning light of a cozy farmhouse, beside the warmth of a good fire and under a pile of blankets, he had woken up beside her and had wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman in his life. It was a good thing she got up and left when she did, he reflected. Otherwise things could have gotten quite awkward. He groaned and flopped back onto his plaid, frustrated.

How long had it been since he had woken up beside a woman? It had been fifteen years since Meg had run off, and since then there had been a few random encounters in various exotic ports, but those had been out of sheer physical necessity rather than any real attraction. Rob figured that was why there were so many chores for men to do on a ship. If they were expending their energy working, they thought about women less. As near as he could recall, it had been at least three years since he had lain with a woman.
By the saints, I started out as a sailor and I’ve become a monk
, he thought. He would make a point of not thinking of Cameron Clark any more than he had to. 

Gerthe Wagner waddled in, and hunkered down beside Rob, ending any thoughts of passion he might have been having.

“Good morning,” she smiled. “Where is your sister?”

He squinted at her, and thought fleetingly that Herr Wagner should probably marry this one off very soon. “Cameron? Out in the privy. I expect she’ll be back in a moment.”

She nodded appraisingly at his bare chest. “You are a man who works hard,
ja
?”

He blushed. It was too early in the morning to have this many women looking at him. “
Ja.
I think your mother is calling ye, girl.”

Indeed, Frau Wagner was lumbering in from the well, two large wooden buckets in her hands. “Gerthe! Leave the guests alone,
liebchen
!” She rolled her blue eyes at Rob and plopped the buckets down on the floor. She had not even broken a sweat.

By this time Cam had come back in, looking freshly scrubbed and pink. Gerthe noticed immediately.

“Your face is flushed! Are you not well?” she asked, concerned, patting Cam’s hand.

“Er, no, I’m fine. I just washed my face off with some snow, that’s all.” It had felt quite refreshing, but what Cam really longed for was a nice hot bath. Maybe Mollie Duncan had a tub. “So, we’ll be leaving soon?” she prodded Rob.

“Mmm, that we should. One more night in the woods and we should be to my brother’s – our brother’s place. We’ll help the Wagners with their morning chores first,” he suggested.

Gerthe’s face lit up. “Herr MacFarlane, would you help me with the milking?”

Rob grinned immensely. “I think I’d be more useful helping your father with chopping wood, aye? But my sister would be happy to help you. Wouldn’t you, lass?”

Cam was horrified. There would be no way out of this one. She glared at Rob. Only the day before, she had told him that not only had she never milked a cow, but she was also a little bit afraid of them. She would cheerfully throttle him at the first opportunity. How on earth could she have thought he was attractive only a short while ago? Head high, she followed Gerthe out to the barn. She would not let Rob MacFarlane get any more satisfaction out of his little joke than she absolutely had to.

Once out in the barn, Cam was amazed at how quickly the plump German girl could actually move. Gerthe handed her a bucket, and pointed her towards a cow.

“That one is Wilhemina.” When Cam hesitated, Gerthe gave her a funny look. “You do not know how to milk a cow?”

Cam shook her head, embarrassed, and quite thankful that Rob MacFarlane couldn’t see her. “I’m afraid not,” she apologized. “I’m kind of a city girl. I don’t really like cows.”

The girl laughed. “What is there to not like about a cow? They won’t hurt you. I will show you.”

Cam felt like an idiot. She was an adult woman, and a teenage girl was patiently explaining to her why cows were not dangerous. Then again, there had been a lot of things lately that didn’t make any sense, not the least of them being that she had somehow managed to hop back a couple of centuries in time. She focused on Gerthe and the milking demonstration.

“You squeeze it and pull, like this. Squeeze, and pull. Now you try.”

“What if he kicks me?” Cam blurted out.

Gerthe rolled her eyes. “Cows are she, not he. And she won’t kick you. Wilhemina is a good cow.”

Cam squatted on the small stool beside the cow, who was mooing softly. Grabbing onto a teat, Cam squeezed, and pulled. Milk sprayed everywhere.

“In the bucket!” Gerthe giggled, shoving the pail under the cow. Cam laughed along with her, and tried again. This time her aim was a little better, and she managed to get most of the milk in the bucket.

There were seven cows, and in the time it took Cam to milk Wilhemina, Gerthe had milked the other six. The younger girl peered in the bucket approvingly. “You did well, Miss Clark.” 

As they left the barn, the day was proving to be rather warm, and Cam removed her coat. She sniffed delicately and noticed that she smelled a bit like cow. It wasn’t a bad smell. When they got back to the farmhouse, Rob had saddled the mare and loaded their bedrolls. He looked at her and stifled a smile. Glancing down, she was suddenly conscious of her appearance. Her shirt and jeans were dirty, and there was cow poop on her boots. She groaned, and tried ineffectively to scrape her foot on a rock.

“So, lassie, how did you fare with those fearsome beasties?”

Cam scowled at him and stuck out her tongue, but Gerthe Wagner sprang to her defense. “Your sister milks a cow as if she were born to it, Herr MacFarlane.”

Rob’s only reply was a snort as he tightened the saddle. “I canna fault anyone for being born to handling cattle. All right, then, lass. Are ye ready to be going?”

“I was hoping I could clean up first…” Cam said.

He shook his head. “Nae, we really must be off.”

“I have cow shit on my boots,” she whispered softly, hoping Gerthe wouldn’t hear.

“Well, and there’s much worse things you could smell like than cow shit, aye?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I canna think of one at the moment. Up with ye, then.” He grabbed her arm and hoisted her up deftly. They bade the Wagners goodbye, and Gerthe in particular seemed sad to see them leave.

Frau Wagner waved. “We will come see you in the spring!” she called. The kindhearted farmwife had packed not one but two rabbit pies for them, as well as a warm loaf of bread.

They rode in silence, the dog lumbering through the drifts ahead of them, until they were well away from the farm. It was Rob who spoke first.

“So, Cameron Clark, tell me about yourself. Did ye really come here from Charleston through the Faeries’ Gate?”

“Well, I did live there before I came through it, yes,” she answered. It was, technically, not a lie.

“And ye ran a wee bookstore there?” he pressed.

“Yes. Are you familiar with Charleston?”

“Aye. Where was your shop?”

“On East Bay Street,” she replied, “up near the market. Do you know it?”

He nodded, and she realized she had just passed a test. Her confidence slightly boosted, she continued. “I used to go for walks down to the harbor and watch the ships sail in.” Of course, the ships she had seen had been mostly naval submarines, yachts and shipping barges, but there was no reason to mention that.

“Aye, tis a beautiful city,” he agreed. “How do folk there feel about the Crown?”

“The Crown?” Cam forgot that she was in an America at war. She racked her brain for anything she could remember about Charleston’s history. The city was more famous for its rebellious activities during the Civil War, and Cam took a shot in the dark. “Oh, they’re quite against the Crown. Um, they built forts just in case of attack,” she added helpfully, recalling that batteries had been built on both Sullivan’s and James Islands prior to the Revolution.

He nodded, and seemed satisfied. “Aye, that they have. I’ve ported there many a time. You did say your family was dead?”

Cam marveled at the way the man could change the subject. She would watch what she said, and stick as close to the truth as possible. “My parents are dead, and I never had any brothers or sisters. My grandmother raised me from the time I was nine. She died last year.”

“Ah. No wonder ye never married then. Ye were takin’ care of your gran, I expect?”

Granny Emily would have laughed at the idea of being taken care of by anyone, let alone Cam. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I did, but I went to school and was busy with the bookstore, and… I don’t know. It’s really not your business,” she finished lamely.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, lass. By the way, this friend you followed here through the Faeries’ Gate, was she from Charleston too?”

Had Wanda ever said where her family had lived? It must have been near here somewhere.

“No, actually, she was from around here, I think. Her family is named Mayberry.” A thought struck her. “Do you know them?”

“Nae, but Ian or Angus might. And Mollie has delivered a few babies here and there, so she might know the name. Ye can ask her when we get to the ridge.” He guided the mare carefully along a narrow trail. “What about the man that was after you?”

Cam shivered at the thought, and hoped fervently that she hadn’t been seen when she plunged into the whirlpool. Although, she reflected, even if he had seen her jump in, he certainly would have just assumed she drowned, rather than follow her in. “He was after something that I had, although I don’t actually have it anymore,” she admitted.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “What manner of thing is so important a man would kill a woman for it?”