Read Online Thorn in My Heart by Liz Curtis Higgs - Free Book Online Page B

farm a few days hence. It was the long way but by far the most traveled. Coaching inns and taverns awaited him at every junction. Let his brother sleep on the moors and hunt for his supper. Jamie intended to rest his head on a pillow and dine from a pewter plate.
    Plodding on through the mist, he consulted the watch hidden in his waistcoat pocket and groaned. Midnight, and already his legs ached.Please God, by weeks end he would be setded at Auchengray. Odd to think of living anywhere but Glentrool, even for a few weeks. Already he itched to get back to his ledgers with their long columns of neat and orderly numbers. Though his father had sent him to university to be trained for the kirk, it was managing land and breeding sheep that stirred Jamie's soul. He'd returned from Edinburgh to become overseer of the McKie flocks. Henry Stewart, Glentrool's head shepherd, had taught Jamie everything his books had not.
    Did his uncle have sheep at Auchengray or only fields of grain and two daughters? Jamie tried again to picture how his cousins must look, grown as they were, but only vague images came to mind. Would Leana or Rose be the one to bear the name McKie? At least there were two to choose from; he'd have some say in the matter.
    Jamie flexed his hand, trying to ease the pain of the dagger wound that scraped across his palm, when a twig snapped close behind him. He held perfecdy still, senses on full alert. Had Evan followed him, intent on planting a blade in his back? Ever so slowly Jamie lowered his right hand to the dirk firmly nesded in his boot. The feel of the hilt in his grip gave him a fresh measure of confidence. He straightened and jerked Walloch's reins, abrupdy swinging the horse's head around, then called out into the swirling mist. “Show yourself, man.”
    Neither sight nor sound greeted him. Only the sensation of an unseen presence permeated the foggy air. Jamie swallowed his fear and spoke again, louder this time and with more conviction. “If you've come to finish what you started, Evan, I'm prepared to do the same.” He pressed his long legs against the horse's sides, urging Walloch forward. “Come out where I can see you.”
    Silence.
    Apprehension, like an icy finger, trailed down Jamie's spine. If not his brother, then who? Jamie had no enemies, no outstanding debts, no quarrel with neighbor or kin. Gypsy traveling folk, a common sight across Galloway, seldom ventured far from the main roads. Who else might trail him across the boggy ground at night, and why? He waited, listening for a footfall, the jingle of a harness, another snapping twig. No sounds methis ears except that of the water gently lapping on the banks of the Trool and the sheep bleating on the
braes.
Feeling foolish, he turned west again, determined to think no more of his red-haired brother. He would do as his father had oft instructed: “Pray to God and walk forward.”
    Soon the rushing waters ahead grew louder, plunging over steep linns and swirling around granite boulders. The Minnoch, icy cold from its journey through the Merrick range, would soon meet with the Trool, a treacherous crossing to navigate in the best of weather; in the dead of night, in heavy fog, it could be lethal. Walloch knew the fording spot well and boldly plunged into the water, carrying them both across without incident, other than soaking Jamie's breeches. No matter. The patrons at House o’ the Hill would hardly notice or care. It was a rough place, favored by smugglers heading east from Portpatrick. A bowl of hot stew and a heather mattress were all he required.
    “There's a welcome sight,” Jamie murmured, patting the horses neck with relief as the inn came into view at the crest of a hill, its four small windows aglow from the hearth. He pointed Walloch toward the cluster of stables situated downwind. The stock pens were crowded with packhorses belonging to the
lingtowmeen
, named for the coil of rope, or
lingtow
, which they wore around their