MacFarlane's Ridge (41 page)

“Sorry about your little friend Ralph,” he smirked. “Squealin’ like a girl, he was.”

Rob looked past him wordlessly as he was led across the square into the courtroom. As he was shoved through the door, he squinted, eyes adjusting to the dim light. There, in the front he caught a flash of vivid red… Wanda Mabry, what in the name of God are you doing here?

And then, to Wanda’s left, he saw the back of another woman’s head, and caught his breath. He would have known the dark blonde hair anywhere; it had tormented him in his sleep thousands of times over. The curve of her neck above the collar of the shabby dress she wore… and then she turned around to face him.

Robert,” she whispered.

Although his appearance had changed a bit, she recognized him instantly. He had several days’ growth of beard, and his hair, although still pulled back in a queue, hadn’t been combed for a while. His once-respectable clothes were shabby, and his linen shirt was torn in several spots. There were bloodstains on it, and she realized in horror that his face was bruised in more than a few places. His bottom lip had a nasty gash through it, and a streak of dried blood darkened his chin. She felt a sudden ache in her chest.

“Cameron Clark,” he mouthed, staring at her in shock. The fat dragoon shoved Rob past her unceremoniously and pushed him into a nearby chair.

“Robert,” she repeated, tears welling in her eyes. Cam reached over and clutched Wanda’s hand, forgetting her vow not to have anything to do with the woman.

“I know,” said Wanda gently.

“All rise!” called Wayne Sinclair. Everyone in the courtroom did so, except for Fraser, who was ogling Wanda with a great deal of interest. Since Fraser was in charge of this particular proceeding, Cam figured he didn’t have to stand if he didn’t feel like it.

“Alexander MacFarland, also known as Robert MacFarlane, you will face the court,” ordered Sinclair. Robert turned so that his body was facing Fraser, but his eyes never left Cam. “This twenty-second day of June, 1777, this court of His Majesty King George, held at Fort Wyndham, Pennsylvania, before the honorable Brigadier General Simon Fraser, charges that the Defendant, one Alexander MacFarland – also known as Robert MacFarlane -- is guilty of acts of piracy against British cargo ships. The court also maintains that he is part of a most insidious ring of spies,” Sinclair continued, his gaze flickering to Wanda, “who have engaged in rebellious activities against His Majesty King George.”

Fraser peered at Robert. “And what have ye to say for yourself, MacFarlane?”

Robert pulled his gaze from Cam and stared straight back at Fraser. “I say that King George and the Crown of Great Britain are no legitimate governing body, and therefore have no legal jurisdiction over any of my activities, however insidious they may be.”

The brigadier general scowled at him. “You realize, of course, that such statements in and of themselves are considered a treasonous act, punishable by death?”

“Aye, well, then I should welcome it proudly,” Rob said defiantly. “The English crown has been tryin’ to keep men from being free for far too long now. I would rather hang as a free man than live as one o’ Geordie’s puppets.”

Cam stifled a gasp.
He’s committing suicide…

“You realize, as well, laddie, that ye could save your own neck,” murmured Fraser softly, “by giving up this foolish charade, and swearing loyalty to the Crown.” He leaned across the table. “All you have to do, MacFarlane, is testify against the others.”

Rob glanced at Cam one last time. “I would rather ye hang me,” he said with a wistful smile. “The alternative is simply unthinkable.”

Fraser goggled at him, obviously perturbed by the course of events. Wayne Sinclair jumped up again.

“Sir? May I speak frankly?” he asked.

“Aye, get on with it, Clarendon.”

“This man is indeed a traitor to the crown and is involved in a ring of spies and rebels, and should be treated accordingly. Furthermore,” he said smiling at Cam and Wanda, “one of his associates is here in the courtroom at this very moment.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “I present you Mrs. Wanda Duncan.”

Fraser had apparently not realized that the lovely woman he had been staring at was Wanda. Startled, he frowned and pointed at her.

“You, lass, stand up!” he bellowed.

Wanda rose smoothly, and once again Cam was reminded of how catlike her movements were, as though at any moment she could pounce. Or, perhaps, just vanish into thin air.

“Are you Wanda Duncan? Where is your husband?”

She blinked. “I am. As to Angus, he is not here.”

He peered at Sinclair. “Clarendon, did she no’ come in with two men?”

“Yes, sir, and although they are both spies, neither one of them is her husband.”

Fraser snorted, and turned his attention to Cam. “Well, and who are you, then, missy?”

Cam jumped to her feet before addressing him. “I’m Cameron Clark. Sir,” she added belatedly.

“What sort o’ name is that? Dinna you have a Christian name, like Mary or Isobel or something?” asked Fraser.

“I asked her the same thing when I first met her,” pointed out Robert politely.

“Silence from you, lad,” Fraser snapped. “If I want to hear anything out o’ ye I’ll be sure to let ye know.” He looked back at Cam. “And you, Mrs. Clark, if ye associate with spies, that would rather imply that you’re a traitor as well, aye? What manner o’ business brings ye to be out in the woods with the likes of Mrs. Duncan?”

He seemed genuinely interested, and Cam though she saw just the slightest trace of a smile on his face. Taking a chance, she glanced over to Rob and said, “Well, sir, I was looking for him.”

“For MacFarlane? The pirate? What in the devil for?” Fraser exclaimed, quite shocked.

Wayne Sinclair interrupted. “Sir, might I remind you that this court has two other men to try – specifically Ambrose Meador and Peyton Basham – and we are running a bit late. You did say, sir, that you have places to be.”

“Aye, thank you, Lieutenant. Miss Clark, Mrs. Duncan, ye may be seated. Alexander MacFarland, also known by the name Robert MacFarlane, I give you one final opportunity,” he squinted at Rob, “to swear fealty to the Crown of Great Britain and testify against those who would try to usurp said Crown. What say ye, lad?”

Rob looked at Cam once more, and she closed her eyes and nodded, ever so slightly.

“I say no, Fraser. If its Colonial blood you’re wanting, you’ll have to take it without help from me,” he finished.

Fraser was thoroughly exasperated, and banged his fist on the table before him. “Verra well, then, MacFarlane. This court finds you guilty and deems that ye shall be hung by the neck until dead. This session is adjourned,” he growled, and pulled himself to his feet. Fraser pointed a knobbly finger at Wanda. “And you, lassie, shall be kept here until the Lieutenant can gather more evidence against ye, since he doesna seem to have any at the present time!”

With that, he turned and stomped out a side door.

Cam felt someone behind her, and saw Rob’s eyes widen in alarm. Rough hands grabbed her arm, and Stave pulled her to her feet. “What about this one, Lieutenant?” he leered, staring pointedly at the bodice of her dress.

“Well, good Lord, Stave,” replied Sinclair, sounding a bit annoyed. “There’s two cells, isn’t there? Put the women in one, and throw MacFarlane in the other until we can hang him, for God’s sake.”

“But, Lieutenant,” the man whined, “Fraser didn’t say nothing about keepin’ this one in a cell. Just the redheaded one.”

With lightning speed, Sinclair whirled on him, pulling his sword from his belt. “Put her in the bloody cell now, or so help me, Stave, I will run you through,” he said hoarsely.

Stave weighed his options, and decided, with good reason, to do as he was told. He leaned close to Cam’s ear. “Maybe I can come visit you later, hm? Bet we’d have a nice time.”

She cringed in disgust, and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t bet on it, asshole,” she said softly. He recoiled, startled, and then began to laugh under his breath.

Tumblesby was guiding Wanda forward, and Rob was bringing up the rear, being escorted by none other than Wayne Sinclair himself. Cam could feel his eyes on her, and she kept glancing back. She still hadn’t gotten a chance to even speak to him, and there were so many things to say.

They were led to the prison wing, a gloomy and dark place if Cam had ever seen one. Wanda bumped into her as they went down the stone steps, and Cam slipped, just managing to avoid cracking her head on the wall. Stave pointed to a wooden door with a large bar across it. There was a small window in the door, about six inches square. Across the corridor was an identical door.

“In here,” smiled Stave, lifting the heavy bar from the door. With one last glance at Rob, Cam slipped into the musty cell, Wanda following. The door slammed shut behind them, and they heard a heavy thud as Stave dropped the bar back into place. He peered at them through the window, winked at Cam, and disappeared.

Cam stood on her toes to look out. Sinclair noticed, and stepped forward to block her view, shaking his head. “He’ll hang at sundown, you know,” he murmured softly. “I have the authority.”

She spit in his face and leaped back, away from the tiny window before he could react. A shiny, wet gob glistened on his damaged cheek.

“You bastard,” she hissed. “Why are you doing this to us?”

Sinclair carefully dabbed the saliva from his face with a white handkerchief, and looked at her. There was no expression at all in his blue-and-brown eyes, nothing within the depths of them to give Cam any hint of his motivations. Finally, he smiled at her. “I have been unhappy all my life, Cam. And I relish the chance to see it in others. Why do I do it? Because I enjoy it,” he said gently, and disappeared down the corridor. Stave and Tumblesby followed along, conducting Meador and Basham down the hall, presumably for their turn in the courtroom.

Cam flung herself back to the door, and peered through the window at the cell across the hall. There was no one in sight.

“Robert,” she called quietly, choking a bit when she said his name.

He appeared then, peering down out of the small window at her. “Cameron Clark,” he murmured.

Cam blinked, trying to hold back the tears of joy and relief. “You’re alive,” she blurted.

“Aye, well, not for much longer, it would appear,” he said dryly. He blinked, and she saw him watching her curiously. “I thought ye dead as well. I figured if ye were alive ye’d have come back sooner.”

She nodded, acutely aware of Wanda’s presence behind her. “Jamie told me you’d been shot, and I found a letter from Thibodeaux to Mollie. I’m sorry about Dominic,” she added quietly.

“Aye.” Rob sighed. “I’m afraid, lass, ye’ve come back for naught. They’re to hang me tonight at dusk, or did ye no’ hear? I’m condemned as a traitor, mind ye, to the British crown.”

“No,” she shook her head furiously. “I won’t let it happen. That’s why I came back. To stop them from hanging you.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Is that so? Ye came all the way back from – from wherever it is, just to keep my neck from being stretched out at the end of a rope?”

“That’s part of it, yes.” She smiled at the innocence in his voice.

“An’ the other part being?”

“You know.”

“Say it,” he growled, and she felt goose bumps pop up all over her body.

Cam looked up and met his deep chestnut eyes. “I love you, Robert MacFarlane.”

He smiled back at her then. “An’ I love ye too, Cameron Clark, d’ye know that?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Do ye remember the first time ye said it to me?”

Her mind flashed back to the night they had gone up the hill to the half-complete cabin, the night that they had found Wayne Sinclair waiting at the Ridge. They had fallen to the ground, tumbling into the leaves… she shivered again.

“Mm, yes,” she coughed.

“Well, and so do I,” Rob said. “I had thought, once, that there might come a time when you and I… well, tis no matter now. I’m quite certain tis no way to get out of Fort Wyndham, at least not before sundown, aye?”

“But there is,” she said, “or at least I think there is.”

“What?” exclaimed Wanda from behind her. “Where? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not sure where exactly it is. Man Who Sees Far told me to go to the church and pray if I needed to get out of here.”

“Wait a moment,” interrupted Rob. “Who in God’s name is Man Who Sees Far?”

“It’s a long story,” Cam apologized.

He looked pointedly at her. “I’m a rather captive audience, lass.”

She told him about their days among the Kanienkehaka, and the old man, although she left out the part about the tattooed numbers on his arm and what they signified. She could see the wheels spinning in Rob’s head.

“I didna see anything extraordinary about the church,” he said slowly, “but there could be something behind the pulpit. He told you specifically to pray?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She searched her memory for anything she had seen. “Well, maybe it’s something special that they do here. What kind of church is it?”