“Nae, lad, I have nae seen Stuart MacKay in probably a fortnight.”
A fortnight? But…. Bannon turned back to Ciaran.
Ciaran’s scowl grew. He raised a hand, looking right past Bannon. “Thank ye, Mrs. Goodwin. Sorry tae have disturbed ye.”
The door shut behind Bannon, and that horrible sick feeling swamped him again. He went back to Flùr and slung up into the saddle. “The last time we ran into Stuart, he said he was coming from the Widow Goodwin’s, right?”
“Aye.” Ciaran wheeled Horace around back down the main street.
They rode side by side down the middle of the dirt road.
Bannon tried to remember the circumstances of the meeting. He’d come up behind them as they’d come from the base, heading to the castle. He’d had a wagon that night too, but the wagon had not been covered. “Didn’t livestock go missing the next morning?”
Ciaran pulled up short. He looked at Bannon and frowned. “Chickens.” He shook his head, dropping it down to stare at his hands wrapped around the reins, then groaned. “Come on.” He heeled Horace and took off at a run.
“Wait!” Bannon squeezed his knees together, and Flùr took off after them. “Wait, I think we are thinking the same thing, but where are we going?”
“Tae the MacLeans’ stronghold,” Ciaran called over his shoulder.
Damn, maybe he should have brought a fragger. Bannon leaned down over Flùr’s neck. He caught up to Ciaran, and together they rode side by side. It was exhilarating, with the wind whipping through his hair and on his face. It reminded him of running through the moors at home, but here it was so much more exciting. Probably because the land was more rugged and dangerous. Dust, but he really should have brought a fragger.
They rode full-out for several moments, and then Ciaran came to an abrupt halt. He held his hand up, asking for silence.
And how odd was it that Bannon was starting to respond to hand signals. He’d seen the Royal Guards use them, but he’d never thought he’d one day use them as well.
They stopped right before the pass that would take them to the base and to the MacLeans, and Ciaran pulled his sword from his back.
Bannon held his breath and listened. The sound of voices broke through the quiet night, making Bannon’s heart skip a beat. That strange tingling he’d felt earlier tonight when he’d spotted the man on horseback and then the man on the tower started up again. Everything in his being said they should flee.
Ciaran’s shoulders stiffened in front of him, then slowly relaxed. He clucked his tongue and started moving again.
For several moments, Bannon debated following him or going back for reinforcements, but then he, too, got moving again.
They rounded a huge rock formation in the middle of the pass, and there sat the wagon and horse. Along with two other horses. Off to the side stood three men illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the clouds.
Ciaran put his sword away and recognition dawned. It was Stuart, Marcus, and Patrick. They were staring at something on the ground, and… Bannon sniffed. What was that horrible smell? It was faint, but… ewww.
Had Marcus and Patrick stopped Stuart? They rode up close, and Ciaran swung down from Horace and went to where the others were standing.
That uneasy feeling creeping up Bannon’s spine increased, and he looked around, studying their surroundings.
Something in the wagon moved. There were thuds like… hooves? Bannon ignored the four men and rode up to the wagon. He got off Flùr and went right up to it. He lifted the heavy leather and came face-to-face with a pair of dark brown eyes. The white face peeked out at him, pushing through the leather until a nose was uncovered. Another white face joined the first, then another nose poked out between the leather and the wood sideboard of the wagon on the other side of the first head. Sheep.
Bannon closed the leather flap and fastened it back to the wagon, then went to tell Ciaran the bad news. “Ciaran?”
Ciaran didn’t even respond. He stood there with his head down.
Bannon glanced around at the other men, noting their similar postures. They stared at a large black spot on the ground, where someone had obviously made a fire. There was still wisps of smoke, the fire had obviously been recent, and that awful smell was stronger. It smelled like….
Bannon shook his head and pinched his nose. “Ciaran?”
This time Ciaran turned to look at him. His face was