MacFarlane's Ridge (19 page)

The next moments passed by Cam in a blur. Wayne Sinclair was here, he had found her, and worse yet was claiming he was her husband. Rob’s face was like a thundercloud, and Mollie looked ready to rip someone to shreds with her bare hands. Everyone was staring at Cam, still astride Betsy.

“This man is not my husband,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Wayne patted her knee, and she flinched. “I know you haven’t been well, my sweet. If you’ll just come back with me, back home, we’ll get you some help. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

For the first time, she looked at Wayne. He was dressed like Ian and Rob, in Colonial attire, although the similarities ended there. While they wore simple linen and wool, Wayne was bedecked in a fine coat of claret velvet and fawn-colored breeches. He wore a tricorn hat and carried a walking stick. He had somehow cultivated an upper-class British accent. All in all, Wayne looked like an eminently respectable eighteenth century gentleman. She barely heard him as he chatted politely with Rob and Mollie.

“I’m afraid she’s been a bit delusional lately. Sometimes she makes up stories about being from another place or time, and then wanders off and I have to go hunting for her. She probably told you she was looking for a missing friend.” Wayne sighed sadly. “I truly appreciate your caring for her until I could find her.”

The others watched her warily, as if they expected her to start howling and spitting at any moment.

They think I’m insane! Rob thinks I made it all up, and that I am completely bonkers.

Cam slid down from the horse. “Rob, please! This man is not my husband! It’s all lies! He’s the one I told you about that was trying to kill me!”

Without a word, Rob turned and headed up the path to the half-built cabin, with Charlie happily trotting along behind him. Mollie pointedly ignored Cam.

“Master Sinclair, it is getting’ a bit late for more traveling, and I am sure your
wife
needs some rest. Will ye not wait until morning before ye leave us?”

Wayne smiled, and Cam wanted to knock those shiny teeth right out of his mouth. “That would be grand, Miss Duncan. I do hope we aren’t imposing on your hospitality…”

“Nae, it’s no trouble at all.” She finally looked at Cam. “A place to sleep is the least we can give ye.” Mollie stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

Cam whirled to face Wayne Sinclair, with his one blue eye and one brown. As long as they were here, he wouldn’t harm her. He would wait until he got her away from this place.

“You bastard,” she seethed. “What are you trying to do?”

He examined his perfectly manicured nails. “Well, my dear, I am simply trying to take my wife home.”

“Your wife? How dare you tell these people that I am your wife?”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he quoted. He moved closer to her. “Actually, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Cam watched him. “For what?”

He smiled. “For bringing me to Mollie Duncan. All this time I had tried to find her journals… I had no idea what a fascinating woman she is in person.”

“You leave her out of this, Wayne. Leave her alone.”

“Oh, no, on the contrary. I can’t leave her out of it. I’ve got plans for her, Cameron.”

Cam rolled her eyes. All he needed to do was start twirling his moustache. “Really, Wayne, you’re sounding quite clichéd.”

“Just think about this, Cameron. If Mollie Duncan’s journal is an historical find, think how much the real Mollie Duncan would be worth.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Wayne was very close to her. “Oh, I am very serious. After we’ve left here, you’ll become ill again, having a relapse, and you’ll ask me to come get Mollie to help you. She’ll come with me if she thinks you need help.” He smirked. “Of course, you won’t, but who cares?”

A thought struck Cam. “Where is Troy?”

“Who? Oh, Deputy Dawg? Dead, I expect. Again, that would fall under the heading of “who cares?”

She slapped him, hard, across the cheek. “I will not go anywhere with you. You can tell these people whatever you like about me but I will not leave this place with you,” she hissed.

He shrugged, the slap appearing not to have bothered him in the slightest. “Suit yourself. It’s either you or Mollie Duncan. Whatever. Just remember, if you act like anything other than a dutiful little wife, I will make these poor, ignorant hillbillies pay.”

The door opened, and Ian came out. “Miss Clark?” he said tentatively. “I mean, er, Mistress Sinclair?”

“Don’t call me that, Ian, it’s not my name,” she snapped, disregarding Wayne’s warning. “What is it?”

“Mollie asked me to tell ye that supper is ready for ye, if ye’re hungry?”

Cam pushed past Wayne. “Thank you, Ian. I am famished.” As Ian stepped aside to let her through, she whispered softly, “Get Rob. Please.”

Mollie was inside, feeding Hamish some porridge. She ignored Cam completely.

“Mollie? It’s not true,” said Cam. “This man is not my husband.”

Mollie glanced up at her. “He says ye’re no’ right in the head, and that ye’d deny bein’ his wife because o’ your madness. He got here the day after you left, ye know. I’ve heard all about you and your visions of flyin’ carriages and men on the moon.”

Cam looked back towards the door. Wayne would be coming inside any moment. “Please, Mollie, you have to believe me.”

“I dinna know what to believe.”

The door opened, and there was Wayne, grinning happily at Cam. “It’s so good to have you back, my dear. I’ve been quite distressed about your little disappearance.”

I bet you have, you son of a bitch.
Somehow, Cam was going to have to convince the others, or at least one of them, that Wayne was lying. If she could do that, maybe they wouldn’t send her with him in the morning. She sat at the table and waited for the others, ignoring Wayne. He tried to make conversation.

“So. How do you like it here in the wild frontier of Virginia, my darling?”

Cam narrowed her eyes. “Does it matter?”

He shrugged and bit a hunk out of his bread. “Have it your way,” he said softly. “You’ll have to talk to me sooner or later.”

Hamish pushed a mouthful of porridge out onto his chin. Mollie wiped it away deftly. “There now, laddie, keep the porridge in your mouth, that’s a good lad. Your da and Uncle Robbie should be back any time now.”

As if on cue, the door flung open and Ian burst in, with Rob behind him. “Sorry, Mollie, to keep ye waitin’. Robbie was nearly to the cabin when I caught up to him.”

Rob said nothing, and merely pulled up a chair as far away from Cam as possible. Charlie flopped down in front of the fireplace, legs in the air. Ian and Mollie took their places. Ian said a blessing, and promptly dove into the food. No one spoke, and the only sound was that of Hamish slurping the porridge off his fat fingers.

Cam picked at her stew. What was she going to do? She tried desperately to think of something.

“So… Wayne. How did you manage to find me here?” she asked sweetly.

Startled, he looked up. “Er… it wasn’t easy.”

“Do tell?”

“Why, yes. Well, I stopped in several settlements, and finally someone said you’d been in Liberty. It was just a matter of time before I ended up here.”

Cam noticed that Rob had shifted his attention to Wayne when Liberty was mentioned.
Wait a minute…
Cam thought.
Mollie said Wayne got here the day after I left.
But I hadn’t been to Liberty yet… and when I was there, I was Master Clark, the book merchant.

“Oh, I see. That was quite clever of you,” Cam admitted. Now was her chance. “Did you happen to ask about Wanda? I haven’t been able to find her, you know.”

Wayne shrugged. “No one seems to know anything about her. I’m sure she’s long gone by now.”

Rob looked up, and his eyes met Cam’s.
He knows Wayne’s lying! He has to!

“Master Sinclair,” Rob interrupted. “Your wife, in her delusions, actually told me she was looking for a missing book. She claims it is an old one, and very valuable. Can ye perhaps shed some light on this story for us?”

Cam studied her fingernails. Things were looking better.

Wayne broke into a coughing spasm. “Ahem… excuse me. What were you asking me, Mr. MacFarlane?”

Rob leaned his elbows on the table. “A book, Master Sinclair?”

“Oh, oh, yes. Well.” Wayne fidgeted, and looked at Cam, who was preoccupied with a line of dribble on Hamish’s chin. Her copy of
Macbeth
was still safely tucked away in her saddlebag. “That’s all part of her delusion, you see,” Wayne whispered confidentially.

“Aye, I see very well. In fact, it’s all become quite clear,” smiled Rob. Mollie and Ian were keeping silent, but watching the exchange with interest. “And of course, this claim of hers that ye wish to kill her is also part of her wee delusion?”

Wayne jumped at that. “I – no! I mean, yes, of course it is. Why would I wish to kill her?” He sighed and gazed sadly at Cam. “I love my poor, sick wife.”

Cam wanted to throw up.

Rob nodded. “How long have ye been married, Master Sinclair?”

Wayne looked longingly at Cam. Now they were in a neutral subject area. “Five delightful years.”

“Mm. Have ye any bairns?”

“Bairns? Oh, children? No, that has been one of our greatest sorrows,” Wayne answered morosely. “My wife appears to be barren.”

Rob bit off a piece of bread and chewed thoughtfully. “May I ask ye a rather personal question about your wife, sir?”

“Certainly, if Cameron doesn’t mind.”

Rob waved his hand dismissively at her. “Aye, well, since she’s mad it doesna’ matter if she minds or not, does it?”

What are you up to, Rob MacFarlane?

Wayne laughed. “No, of course not. Ask your question, my friend.”

“Tell me, Master Sinclair, are ye never bothered by… ah, I’m sorry, I canna ask ye this,” Rob blushed.

“By what? Please, ask away,” pressed Wayne.

Rob continued. “All right, then, are ye never bothered by the mark?”

Wayne was puzzled. “The mark?”

“Aye. That great brown mark about the size of a fist. The one on her arse?”

Ian choked on his wine, and Mollie dropped her plate, which Charlie leaped to clean up. Cam felt herself turn crimson with shock, and avoided looking at any of them at all. Rob continued, oblivious, munching his bread. “If my wife had a mark like that, I dinna think I could look at it. It’s bloody awful. Although, I suppose if ye’re looking at the front end of her ye wouldn’t notice it as much. Or perhaps after five years a man just gets used to it, aye?”

Wayne stood, purple with indignation. “And may I ask you, sir, what cause you have had to look at my wife’s… disfigurement?”

Rob leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Pure accident, Master Sinclair, pure accident. I meant no disrespect. Your wife has been as faithful to ye as ye’ve been to her.”

Cam tried to hide her jubilation. Of course, Rob had seen her when he had undressed her in the cave, after she had soiled her clothes. And he certainly knew full well she didn’t have any kind of “great brown mark about the size of a fist” on any part of her anatomy at all. He had caught Wayne’s slip-up about Wanda, and had led the man right into a trap. She wanted to hug him.

“I’m sure Mr. MacFarlane meant no harm, Wayne,” she said, smiling brilliantly. “He stumbled upon me one day while I was bathing, but was most gentlemanly about it.”

“Oh. Then I apologize, sir, for doubting your intentions.” Wayne looked from Cam to Rob, certain he had missed something, but not entirely sure what. Cam looked flushed, and Wayne wondered if it was just nerves, embarrassment, or something more. Maybe she had a thing for this Robert person. Well, that was too bad for her. After all, he had completely destroyed any hope she might have had of staying here with these rubes. And after tomorrow it wouldn’t matter anyway. He would get her out of here, have a little fun before eliminating her from the picture altogether, and then come back for Mollie Duncan. He practically salivated at the thought of it. He would be known as the man who discovered the Faeries’ Gate, a portal into the past. He would be more famous than Walt Disney. Or if not more famous, certainly richer. This could certainly be more profitable than any other career he had ever had.

The possibilities were endless.

“Well, Master Sinclair,” Rob was saying, “I hope ye willna’ mind if I accompany you and your wife in the morning. The woods here can be quite treacherous to a stranger, ye ken? Farmers like Ian have to be on the watch at all times.”

Cam hid her delight at seeing Wayne thrown for a loop. The man was always so confident, so snide… he was practically squirming under the direct gaze of Robert MacFarlane. “Well,” Wayne said, “I did manage to see my way here just fine.” Cam thought she detected a note of anxiousness in his voice.

“Aye,” piped up Mollie, catching on to at least part of the game. “But the Shawnee have been hostile lately. And there be bears,” she added pointedly.