MacKinnon’s Rangers 03.5 - Upon A Winter's Night (10 page)

"May God’s blessings go
wi
’ you," Connor said.

The brothers turned as one and walked out the door.

Iain paused in the doorway, looked back at him, and grinned. "Merry Christmas, Your Immensity."

As William watched them disappear down the hallway, he knew he would never see their like again.

CHAPTER 7

Sarah sat by the fire upstairs nursing little William. Down below, Annie and Amalie were busy preparing the Christmas Eve feast, the house filled with delicious scents — roasted turkey, freshly baked bread, cinnamon from pies. They’d spent most of the day cooking and baking, while
Killy
and Joseph had carried wood, fetched water for them, and tended to the outside chores.

All the gifts were made. The baking was done. Wood was cut and piled high. Christmas was upon them.

But the men were not yet home.

Sarah’s gaze was drawn once again to the window. Outside, heavy snow still fell, clouds concealing the late afternoon sunlight. Connor and his brothers would not make it home through this storm. Nor would she want them to try. If they should leave Albany and find themselves benighted in the forest or lose their way...

She looked down at her baby boy’s sweet face. His eyes were now closed, his tiny hands curved into little fists beneath his chin as he sucked contentedly.

"Your father will come."

God, please guide the men safely home to us!

Annie had said little about it, but Sarah knew she feared that
Haviland
had found some reason to detain them. Sarah prayed that was not true. She remembered only too clearly how much
Haviland
had seemed to hate Connor from the first moment he’d met him. She could not bear to think of him and his brothers spending Christmas in chains in the cold and dark of the garrison’s guardhouse.

She stroked little William’s cheek, seeing so much of Connor in his face. She rocked him until he’d finished feeding, then carried him to his cradle and covered him with a felt blanket, tucking a warm rabbit fur around him.

How horrified her mother would be to see Sarah covering her son with a fur, but the fur was soft to the skin and much warmer than the damask coverlet and itchy woolen blanket that Sarah had slept beneath as a child.

She bent down, kissed little William’s cheek.

From the distance, she heard that same dreadful bellowing, and knew that the bull was raging again. They’d been forced to bring him and
Nessa
inside the barn to protect them from the cold. But shut away from
Nessa
in its own stall, the animal had begun to crash its head against the stall gate, the water trough, the walls of the barn itself, defying even Amalie’s attempt to calm it.

Sarah hadn’t known any animal could be such trouble. What would Connor and his brother say when they got home and found broken planks and a bent water trough? Would they be grateful for the bull, or would they see it as a burden and her as foolish for having purchased it?

She left her sleeping son and rejoined Annie and Amalie downstairs just in time for Joseph to enter.

"That animal will not settle down." There were snowflakes in his dark hair, and his cheeks were red from the cold. He slipped out of his bearskin coat and hung it from one of the pegs by the door. "Let us hope tomorrow is a warm day, or my brothers may return to find themselves without a barn."

There was a glint of humor in his eyes, but Sarah saw nothing funny in this.

He bent down before the hearth and stretched out his hands to warm them, looking up at her, a grin on his face. "Don’t worry, little sister. All will be well."

Sarah rejoined Annie and Amalie in the kitchen and resumed peeling potatoes, ignoring the periodic bellowing from the barn. She, Annie, and Amalie talked and laughed as they worked, doing their best to remain of good cheer, while
Killy
and Joseph spoke together in the next room, played with Iain Cameron, and kept the dogs from getting underfoot.

Outside the window, snow fell harder, daylight fading and, with it, all hope that the men would make it home for Christmas.

Determined to have their husbands with them in spirit if not in body, the women set the table for eight, adding two extra places for
Killy
and Joseph, then lingered over the meal’s last preparations, arranging the Advent candles and holly wreath just so, fussing over the placement of a cup, building up the fire.

Annie wiped her hands on her apron. "
’Tis
time for supper."

She spoke the words with a smile on her face, but Sarah could see the worry and resignation in her eyes.

Killy
and Joseph washed and joined them at the table, each holding one of Amalie’s twins, while Amalie lit the Advent candles and the candle that sat on the window sill, its golden light flickering against the silver of the frost-coated panes.

"May all travelers find shelter tonight," she said. "And may God guide our husbands safely home."

She joined the others at the supper table, a loud bellow perceptible over the crackling of the fire and the happy chatter of children. She
slid
her hand into Sarah’s and Joseph’s, and they bowed their heads.

It normally fell to Iain, as head of the family, to say grace. With all of the brothers away, Annie took his place. She had just spoken the first words of blessing when
Artair
and
Beatan
leaped up from their place by the hearth, tails wagging, and began to bark and scratch at the door.

From outside, they heard it. "Hallo in the house!"

Iain.

Sarah felt a surge of relief as the door opened and Iain entered.

A broad grin on his face, he tossed something to
Killy
— a coin purse. "There are your wages, old man—minus one schilling six. The matter is settled. The men are
gettin
’ their pay."

Then Iain stepped inside, making way for three others — Connor, Morgan and…

"
Hildie
?"
Killy
gaped at the shape that filled the doorway.

Almost as tall as the men, the woman stood there in a great overcoat, her cheeks red from the cold, mittens on her hands, her hems and boots caked with snow.

Killy
turned to Iain, who had taken off his tumpline pack and bearskin coat and was hanging it on its peg. "Why in God’s name did you drag the poor woman all the way out here in this storm?"

Iain, his jaw dark with many days’ growth of beard, chuckled. "She insisted she come
wi
’ us and
wouldna
hear otherwise."

Morgan drew his tumpline pack over his shoulders, handing it to Amalie, who had hurried forward to help him. "Miss Janssen kept abreast of us the entire way, never
flaggin
’, never once
utterin
’ a complaint."

"You’d be right proud of her, so you would." Connor grinned, his gaze meeting Sarah’s as he closed the door and brought down the bar, shutting out the night and cold.

And she could see he was as relieved to be home as she was to have him home. She hurried over to him, began to help him out of his pack and coat.

Killy
rounded the table and walked over to Miss Janssen, who pushed the woolen hat from her head, golden hair spilling around her red cheeks. "Why would you do such a daft thing? Are you tryin’ to catch your death out in this?"

Miss Janssen brushed the hair from her face. "Is it true what they say — that you want to marry me but are afraid to ask?"

The room fell silent apart from the happy babble of babies.

Killy’s
face turned a shade of red Sarah had never seen before. He stared up at Miss Janssen through narrowed eyes. "Aye, it is."

Miss Janssen looked surprised. Had she come all this way in hopes that
Killy
wanted to marry her? What had she planned to do if he’d said no? Would she have turned on her heels and walked all the long way back to Albany alone?

Miss Janssen gave a nod, drew in a breath, seemed to steel herself. "You’re not to lie about in idleness, nor will I permit you to drink my profits. The alehouse will still belong to me. As long as you live under my roof, you’ll not show me disrespect, nor will you suffer any other man to put his hands on me. If there are children, you’ll be a decent father to them for as long as you live."

Killy
glared up at her. "Those are your terms?"

She hesitated for a moment, then her chin went up. "
Ja
. What say you?"

A wide grin broke out on
Killy’s
face. "I accept."

"Then we’ll be wed in a binding manner on New Year’s Eve and remarried in the Dutch church when the snows allow us to return safely to Albany."

"The New Year is a fortuitous time for a
weddin
’."
Killy’s
grin faded. "But who is
watchin
’ over the alehouse while you’re out here?"

"I left Bram, my brother, to run things. I’ve served ale every day of my life since I was ten years old. If I want to leave for a few days to take a husband, I will."

Killy
chuckled, glancing over at Annie. "I told you she was fierce."

Hildie
drew something from inside her coat and held it up for
Killy
to see. It was a sprig of mistletoe.

Killy
stared at it for a moment, then chuckled. "You wild woman."

He rose onto his tiptoes, drew her head down, and kissed her hard upon the lips, drawing cheers and laughter — and putting a blush in
Hildie’s
cheeks.

Through a mist of tears, Sarah looked up into Connor’s eyes, felt his arm slide around her waist, and saw that he was as happy for
Killy
as she.

As laughter died there came a terrible bellowing from the barn.

Sarah had forgotten about the bull.

"What on God’s earth is that?" Iain asked, picking up the musket he’d just set aside. "It sounds like a… "

"It’s a bull, brother." Joseph grinned. "Sarah has some Christmas gifts for you."

Connor and his brothers looked at Sarah, astonishment on their faces.

Another bellow. A crashing sound. Splintering wood.

Sarah looked up at her husband. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

Hildie
was getting married.

She could scarce believe it, the strangeness of it leaving her almost numb as
Killy
helped her out of her wet boots, pack, and coat.

He slipped his hand through hers and led her to a chair by the fire, his fingers warm. "You’re
shakin
’ like a leaf,
Hildie
sweet. Rest here while Annie makes you a hot cup of tea. I’ll be back inside before you can miss me."

Hildie
looked into the eyes of the man she had just agreed to marry and saw genuine concern. "
Th
-thank you."

She wasn’t accustomed to tenderness from men.

Killy
and the other men bundled up and headed out to the barn to see the bull, leaving
Hildie
alone with the MacKinnon brothers’ wives. All were beautiful women, much younger than
Hildie
, feminine and delicate. Compared to them, she was overly tall, ungainly, and big of bone — a pelican among swans.