Findley's Lass Read online

  Findley rolled his eyes. “Apparently.”

  “And we hate them dirty bastards!” The boy wriggled again, fighting to be set free. Findley adjusted the lad and squeezed him tighter.

  “Settle down, ye hellion!” he warned. He recognized the boy as Maggy’s youngest, Liam. “Elst I’ll let Wee William skelp ye!”

  The boy lifted his head, took one look at Wee William’s angry glare and settled down immediately. He may have felt brave enough to pelt a man to death with rocks, but he wasn’t stupid. The giant standing just a few feet away, holding his oldest brother up with one hand as if he were showing the group a large fish he’d just caught, could easily kill him with one blow. Liam decided it best not to chance raising the man’s ire.

  Findley and his men gave the boys a moment to settle themselves down before loosening their grasps and freeing them. Wee William disgustedly shoved the oldest boy to the centre of the group, clearly not happy with the lad’s stubbornness.

  An overwhelming sense of relief had washed over Findley the moment he had seen the boys, even if they had been pelting Patrick with rocks. At least they were alive! Now if the same could be said of Maggy, his heart might begin to beat again.

  “Where be yer mum?” Findley asked as he extended a hand and pulled Patrick to his feet. Findley would have sworn the knot on Patrick’s head was growing with each throb of his pulse.

  Patrick shook his head, took a deep breath and turned to look at the boys. “Can I skelp these little hellions, Findley?” he asked with another shake of his head. He looked determined to do just that, with or without Findley’s permission.

  “Nay,” Findley answered. “No’ till we find out where Maggy is.” He glowered at the boys. “I’ll ask you again. Where be yer mum?”

  Each boy clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, refusing to divulge Maggy’s whereabouts. Findley’s nostrils flared as he took in another deep breath in an attempt to ward off the strong urge to throttle each of their scrawny necks.

  He studied each of them more closely and noticed they had lost weight since the last time he’d seen them. Their clothes were torn and frayed at the edges. The oldest appeared to be wearing clothes made for someone twice his size. The sleeves of the boy’s tunic had been rolled up several times, yet they still fell to his wrists. Only two of the boys were blessed with a pair of boots.

  He imagined it had been some time since any of them had bathed or eaten a good meal. Terrified yet determined eyes, lined with dark circles, stared back at him.

  “Lads, we’re here to help and we need to know where yer mum is.” Findley spoke in an even tone and tried to hide his worry.

  “Go to hell,” the oldest boy said. “Ye can skin me, poke me eyes with sticks, and pull me fingernails off! I ain’t tellin’ ye nothin’! Ye canna have her!” The fierceness in his eyes promised each of the men standing before him that he meant exactly what he said.

  Wee William took one broad step, grabbed the lad by his dirty tunic and lifted him off the ground. He held the boy close to his own face. “Let’s test that theory!” Wee William seethed.

  Not a flinch, not even a flash of fear could be seen in the lad’s face. Findley and his men were stunned. Apparently, Wee William had finally met his match, and it was in a lad half his height and a fraction of his weight. The lad was going to make one hell of a warrior someday. That is if he could ever get his temper under control. It was his fearlessness that caused Findley concern. A man without fear would often make reckless decisions.

  As Wee William threatened the oldest lad, the youngest, Liam, rushed toward Wee William and kicked him in the leg. Wee William batted the child away with his free hand as if he were nothing more than a pesky gnat. He kept his eyes locked on the lad before him.

  “Put me brother down!” Liam yelled as Richard swooped in and pulled him away from Wee William.

  Findley had reached the limit of his patience. “I have had enough!” he boomed. “We’re here to help, you fools!”

  All eyes turned to him as he continued, his voice laced with anger and frustration. “We ken the Buchannans attacked yer camp. ’Tis why we’re here! We hate the bloody bastards as much as you do! And I swear, if you do no’ tell me where yer mum is right this very moment, I’ll skelp each and every one of ye!” He paused long enough to take a breath.

  “Now, do ye wanna leave yer mum with no children and break her heart and risk the chance of the Buchannans findin’ her, or do ye want to do the intelligent thing and tell us where the bloody hell she is so that we can help?”

  The boys looked to each other, silently searching for direction and approval. The boy who appeared to be nearest in size and age to the eldest finally spoke. “Do ye promise ye’ll no’ harm her?” There was much worry and distrust in the lad’s bright blue eyes.

  It dawned on Findley that he knew all too well what the lads were going through. He had been just ten and one when his family was murdered. Their deaths had taken a hard toll on Findley and it was many years before he could learn to trust anyone again.

  It had been but a few days since the Buchannans had raided the lads’ home and it was not going to be easy to convince them that Findley and his men could be trusted. Findley was asking them to put their faith in a nearly complete stranger.

  He let out a long, heavy breath and began to chew on the inside of his cheek. “Lads,” he searched for the right words. “I ken ye be afeared ye canna trust us and I canna blame ye fer it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he put a hand on his hip. “Yer just wantin’ to protect yer mum and ’tis verra noble. A good warrior protects his family to his own death. Ye be doin’ the right thing.” He would have done the very same thing had he been in their shoes.

  Pride flickered momentarily in the eyes of the oldest boy, but only for the briefest of moments before it was replaced with a look of suspicion. He stared at Findley for a long while, searching for any sign that he was being disingenuous. He then turned to Wee William. “Can I talk to me brothers fer a moment?” he asked.

  Gone from his face was the hatred and repugnance. Replacing it was a look of solemnity far beyond his years. He should be enjoying his youth. Instead, he had been thrust into the role of a man, a leader and protector.

  Wee William nodded thoughtfully and set the boy down. The four boys huddled together and spoke in hushed tones for quite some time. Occasionally, one of them would look up at Wee William as if he were trying to size him up, before drawing back into the conversation.

  Findley and his men came together, giving the boys the time and space they needed.

  “Do ye think Maggy is well?” Richard whispered as he dusted dirt from the legs of his trews.

  Findley cast a glance at the boys before answering. “I believe she is. And I believe they’re protectin’ her. They ken where she is.” He looked thoughtfully at his brother. “Ye ken as well as I brother, how hard it is to trust someone, especially a man, when ye’ve lost all that ye have.”

  Richard nodded his head and turned to look at the boys. He had been nine when he lost his family, along with their entire village. Although the man responsible for those deaths was now dead, Richard still fought with nightmares. He believed that evil would always exist in this world. Evil men were like bugs -- you squash one and there were a hundred more ready to takes its place.

  “Aye, I do.” He understood it all too well.

  Richard realized then that one of the boys, the one who looked very much like Liam, was missing. “Do ye think the other small lad be with Maggy?” he asked, bringing it to Findley’s attention.

  “I would hope so, Richard.” Perhaps they’d left the lad with Maggy as her guard and protector. A smile came to Findley’s face at thinking of these five young boys who were protecting their mum with all that they had in them. Aye, they’d make fine warriors indeed someday. He was glad they were on his side for they would undeniably be formidable adversaries.

  ~~~

  The boys had apparently come to some dec
isions. They formed a line, crossed arms over chests and put stern looks upon their faces as they faced Findley and his men. They’d let the eldest do the talking.

  “I be Robert,” the oldest lad said by way of an introduction. “These are me brothers, Andrew, Collin and Liam.” Each boy gave a curt nod of his head at the mention of his name.

  “You've seen what the Buchannans did,” Robert said.

  Findley detected a slight catch to the boy’s voice. It was the first time he showed any sign of weakness.

  Findley and his men remained quiet and gave slight nods of their heads. Aye, they’d seen it and it would be forever burned in Findley’s memory.

  “The Buchannan wants our mum fer his wife. ’Tis why they raided our home.” Robert cleared his throat and stood taller.

  Findley’s stomach lurched at the thought of Maggy being forced to wed the Buchannan. He’d kill the bastard before he allowed that to happen. He began to chew on the inside of his cheek again and kept his thoughts to himself.

  “But our mum dunna want to marry him,” Andrew offered. The boy was nearly as tall as Robert, but was in sharp contrast to Robert’s blonde hair and green eyes. Andrew had a thick mop of red hair, a freckled face and vivid blue eyes. He could have easily passed for Patrick’s younger brother. “She dunna like the man.”

  “And we dunna like him either,” Liam offered as he swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. “The Buchannan’s a dirty bastard,” he said as he spat at the ground. The boy had tenacity even if he severely lacked good manners.

  “Do ye kiss yer mum with that filthy mouth of yers, lad?” Wee William asked. Liam’s face turned crimson.

  “I’d never talk like that in front of me mum!” he told him.

  “’Tis good to know it,” Wee William said. “I’ll thank ye kindly to watch yer language at all times, lad.” He shot a warning look toward the boy but said nothing more. The boy didn’t realize it, but it was his first lesson in being a gentleman as well as a warrior: control your temper and at all times behave honourably.

  They turned their attentions back to Robert. “They burned you out ’cause the Buchannan wants yer mum fer his wife?” Patrick asked for the sake of clarity.

  Robert nodded his head. “Aye, they did.”

  The men pondered the information for a moment. While Findley could imagine why any number of men would take a fancy to Maggy, what with her auburn hair, bright green eyes and beautiful face. But to kill innocent people for her? Nay, that wasn’t done to impress or woo her into marriage; ’twas done to scare her into it.

  “How did ye escape them?” Richard asked.

  “We were no’ there when they came. The lads and me was huntin’ rabbits. Mum was lookin’ for herbs to help break Ian’s fever. We heard the ruckus and hid ’til the bast--” Robert stopped himself as he cast an apologetic look toward Wee William. “’Til the eejits left.”

  Wee William gave the lad an approving smile. “And yer mum and Ian?” Wee William asked.

  Robert looked at his brothers and his expression turned sorrowful. “Mum is well. But Ian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes began to water.

  “What of Ian?” Findley asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the lad’s answer.

  “The Buchannans got him.”

  Chapter Three

  The Buchannans had Ian. He was just a boy, no more than eight years. Findley’s stomach tightened with thinking how terrified the boy must be -- if he still lived. His only hope at the moment was that the Buchannan was keeping the lad alive in order to force Maggy into marrying him.

  Patrick shook his head as he stared at the boys. “Yer sure of it?”

  Robert nodded his head slowly. “Aye. We were hidin’ in the woods when we heard Ian screamin’ something fierce. We hid at the edge of the woods when the Buchannans rode off with him.”

  Robert turned away from the men to wipe the tears from his eyes. Only bairns cry, he admonished himself for acting so childishly. Cryin’ won’t get Ian back.

  Findley jaw clenched as he took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his apprehension. “Where’s yer mum?” he asked. His firm voice held a warning that no one should try his patience further by keeping her whereabouts secret.

  “She be safe and no’ far from here,” Andrew offered. “But we wanna talk to ye first before we take ye to her.” There was a sense of urgency to his voice.

  Findley would give them no more than another minute before he would insist they take him to Maggy. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

  Andrew looked at Robert and cleared his throat. “Do you beat yer women where yer from?” he asked, turning to look at Wee William.

  Aghast, Findley and his men answered in unison, “Nay!” While they knew of men who thought nothing of beating their wives and children, such actions were not just frowned upon among their clan; they were grounds for expulsion.

  “How many in yer clan?” Andrew asked.

  “More than four hundred.” Patrick offered.

  Andrew nodded his head in approval. “How many are warriors?”

  Patrick was perplexed by the question and wondered where it was leading. “Well more than half.”

  The lads looked to be impressed with the numbers. They all turned to look at Wee William. “How many look like him?” Andrew asked as he motioned his head at Wee William.

  Patrick and Richard laughed aloud while Wee William smiled wryly.

  “I can assure ye lads, there isn’t another man as big as our Wee William in all of Scotland,” Richard told them.

  If there had been, they would most assuredly have met the man on the battlefield or heard tales at some point, for Wee William was a giant of a man. He stood nearly seven feet tall, with arms the size of tree trunks, massive legs and a very broad chest. He had the strength of at least five men. He was a man and a warrior of unparalleled proportions.

  The boys looked a bit disappointed with learning there was none other like Wee William. “Are ye married?” Andrew asked.

  A look of utter surprise came to the faces of each of the men before they burst forth in a fit of laughter. Wee William married? Och! Wee William scared most men near to shaking. Unfortunately he had the same effect on women.

  It would take an act of divine intervention to find a woman who would not tremble with fright at his immense girth and gravelly voice. She’d have to have a very strong constitution and be braver than most men to see beyond that, as well as his full beard, his unruly hair and many scars.

  “Nay!” Richard choked on his laughter. “Wee William be not married.”

  Findley was not nearly as amused as his men. They were wasting precious time. “Why do ye ask lads?” His voice was calm as he tried to mask his impatience.

  ’Twas Robert who answered. “We need to find our mum a husband. If she be married, then the Buchannan will leave her be and give us back our Ian.” He didn’t take his eyes from Wee William. “She needs a man who can protect her. Keep the Buchannan away from her. A man who wilna beat her.”

  The sudden awareness that the lads meant for their mum to marry Wee William hit each of the men like a bucket of cold water. “Ye want yer mum to marry Wee William?” Patrick asked. He was astounded by the suggestion.

  Wee William shot his friend a hard look. “And what be wrong with that?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Aside from the fact that I ain’t lookin’ to get married any time in the near future, do ye think I’d no’ make a good husband?”

  Patrick bit his lip to keep from laughing further. “Nay! Ye’d make a fine husband.” He was doing his best to hold his laughter in. “If yer wife be blind and six and a half feet tall!”

  Wee William’s face turned to a dark scowl and he started toward his friend. “Ye little shite!”

  Patrick was laughing too hard to move or defend himself from Wee William’s wrath. He doubled over and did not worry much that his friend might be tempted to strangle him. They’d been needling each other for years and
he was confident Wee William knew it was all in jest.

  Findley had reached his limits. “Gentlemen!” he shouted. “We’ve no time for nonsense!”

  He turned to look at the boys. “Lads, while I’m sure ye mean well, do you no’ think you might want to take yer mum’s feelings into consideration before marryin’ her off?” Besides, he thought to himself, I plan on askin’ her fer that pleasure.

  He had to admit that the boys were doing their best to be brave and take a firm hold of the situation in order to protect their mum. But there had to be a better way than having her marry Wee William.

  Robert looked at Findley as if he had spiders crawling out his ears. “She be a woman. She dunna get a say in the matter, do she?”

  Unfortunately that was often the case. Marriages were oftentimes the result of men trying to better their own purses, increase their lands or holdings, or to stop war. Seldom were the feelings of either party brought into the decision making process. But this situation was different. Maggy was a widow, the mother of five boys and ’twas the boys trying to foster a union for her. And if she were to marry any one, it would be Findley.

  Findley had to quash a smile. “Aye, lad, she does get a say in the matter.” He’d take the time later to explain to the boys that a woman’s feeling should always be considered.

  Robert looked as though he did not believe Findley. “It matters not. He’s big,” he said, nodding his head toward Wee William. “The biggest man I ever seen. Surely he can scare the Buchannan into leavin’ mum alone and givin’ us back our Ian.”

  The mention of Ian brought them all back to the here and now. It would definitely take more than a terrifying Wee William to get the Buchannan to return the boy. It would take an all-out assault.

  ~~~

  Maggy had grown worried over her boys. They’d been gone far too long. She began to chastise herself for allowing them to leave to hunt for a rabbit or a pheasant for their dinner. She should have kept them nearby or insisted she go along with them. As it was, she had been digging for roots to roast along with whatever the lads might be able to catch.