Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Read online

  The look in Murran’s eye was meant as a warning, and such was how she took it. At length she turned around, and looked at the expression on Owen’s face. His frown was even worse than normal. There was no doubt in her mind that one, if not both of the men she had toyed with, were upset enough to do her harm.

  Seona dropped her eyes and tried to decide what to do. Should she run on down the glen or should she go back to that miserable room in the castle? For a long moment, she looked toward the end of the glen, and just then another MacGreagor guard, one she did not recognize, stepped out of the forest.

  Defeated, Seona puffed her cheeks, stuck her tongue out at the flute player, and started back to the castle. Again the flute player played, the people followed, Michael waited for her, and this time – he looked irritatingly pleased with himself. As if unbothered, she lifted her chin and walked back into the castle. In her bedchamber, she slammed the door, picked up an empty goblet and threw it against the stone wall. In a huff, she sat back down, gritted her teeth, and clenched her fists.

  “I’d not marry him if he begged me!”

  KENTIGERN MANOR, 1911

  It was getting late when McKenna stopped reading, closed the book, and sneered, “What will poor Seona do now? She’s not a friend in the world.”

  “Poor Seona,” Jessie mocked. “I am hopin’ Kester will do away with her and be done with it.”

  Alistair chuckled as he stood up and offered his hand to his wife. “My Jessie girl, you’ve a bit more violence in your nature than I suspected.”

  “I think...” McKenna started. Just then, the telephone rang.

  Nicholas got up, answered it, and barely got out a few words before he grinned at his wife, “Abigail,” he mouthed. He waited until his wife came to him and then handed her the telephone, even though Abigail was still talking. He shook his head and sat back down.

  “She what?” McKenna asked.

  “Is that you, McKenna? I thought I was speaking to Nicholas. Well, anyway, I called to tell you Pearl Hughes is getting married, at long last.” Abigail drew in a deep breath.

  “How wonderful. Is it the...” McKenna tried.

  “No, no, it is not Mr. Tuttle, the dull and hapless druggist. He is a traveling salesman, of all things. He seems to be quite honest and dependable, but do you not know what they say of traveling salesmen? I fear for her happiness, I truly do, but she thinks herself the most fortunate woman in all of Colorado. Loretta likes him, however, and is not one bit put off by his profession. He sells manufacturing supplies, nails, screws, hinges, and such to the builders. Cameron says he is trustworthy, but what can one man know about the other? Nothing, nothing at all.”

  “Does Pearl say she means to travel with him?” McKenna asked as soon as she could get a word in edgewise.

  “She shall have to, if she is to have any sort of marriage. As it is, he comes to Colorado Springs but once a month. If only he would stay, though, and find a new profession. Oh well, it cannot be helped, I suppose. Tell Nicholas they have finished building the new jail. It is a very fine building at the edge of town with a proper office for the sheriff. It was said to be escape proof, but have you heard about Tommy Jeffrey? Of course you have not, for it just happened last week. Well, he stole a horse, you see, was promptly caught and became the first thief to be locked in the new jail. When the sheriff arrived the next morning, all the cells were empty.”

  “Empty?” McKenna repeated.

  “Not a soul to be found. Apparently, the deputy fell asleep in the sheriff’s office and heard nothing. Moreover, and to the Sheriff’s surprise, the door to the jail was still locked. The sheriff unlocked the cell and even looked under the bed, but Tommy Jeffrey was nowhere to be found.”

  “How did he get out?”

  “No one knows for certain, but here’s the truth of it. The sheriff cannot chase after him, for we have no law against breaking out of jail.”

  McKenna could not help but giggle. “I cannae wait to tell Nicholas.”

  “Go ahead, Dear, I shall wait.” Abigail listened, and then relished in the laughter of her friends in Scotland. “We ourselves try not to laugh,” she continued, “but just seeing the sheriff reminds us daily. We know not what has become of Tommy Jeffrey. Well, it is past your bedtime, Claymore tells me, so we shall chat another time. Good bye, and oh how I miss all of you.” With that, Abigail hung up.

  Again McKenna giggled. “Abigail says ‘tis past our bedtime.”

  “She is right,” Alistair agreed. “We have supplies to take to Charles at the castle tomorrow.”

  “And tomorrow night is the much anticipated poker game,” Nicholas added.

  “We have treats to bake for the charity sale in town on Sunday,” said Jessie. She yawned, got up, went to her bedroom on the bottom floor, and then closed the door.

  Alistair picked up the closed book McKenna left on the sofa end table, and then put it on the top shelf. He followed McKenna and Sarah up the stairs, and as was his custom, Nicholas turned off the lights.

  A few minutes later, Jessie quietly opened her door. The electric lamp on her table gave off just enough light to let her see where she was going. She tiptoed to the shelf, reached up high, managed to get ahold of the book, pulled it down, and tiptoed back to her room.

  GAVIN WAS LATE AGAIN, but Charles was not overly concerned. Normally, there were just four playing a friendly game of poker of a Saturday night, but two could not make it. He made the offer to the replacements and invited Nicholas and Alistair to join them. “New blood,” he called them, and to their faces too. They gathered on the second floor of his wife’s hat shop and even though it was evening, it was still plenty warm in that room, so Charles opened both windows to allow for a cool breeze. Shelves against all four walls held hats in boxes, hats without boxes, shoes and more boxes, ribbons, sewing supplies, accessories, old forgotten mirrors, and piles and piles of accounting records.

  While the others found a place to sit, Charles looked over the hats and chose a woman’s white one with three red rosebuds in the front. He went to the mirror, put it on, viewed one side, and then the other.

  “What can you possibly be doin’?” Gavin asked as he opened the door and came in.

  “‘Tis what all the lasses do when they try on hats,” Charles answered. “I cannae figure it out. A face is the same on both sides, yet they are never satisfied with lookin’ at just one. I am thoroughly confounded.” He took the hat off, tossed it back on the shelf, and took a seat at the round table. “Why are you late?” he asked Gavin.

  “Had to milk the cow,” Gavin answered. He dug in his vest pocket, produced several coins, and then made a big production out of counting them.

  Charles rolled his eyes and leaned toward Nicholas. “Last I heard, he dinna own a cow. He means, ‘tis none of my business.” Charles grinned at Gavin, picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. “He pretends to be impoverished too, but I suspect his mattress is filled with more wealth than you or I have ever seen.”

  Gavin caught his breath and then put his head in his hands. “I never should have given that mattress away.”

  “Perhaps he traded the mattress for a cow?” Barclay said. He was shorter than most men, thinner too, but that did not mean he was easily intimidated by the large, muscular Charles. “We dinna tell you everythin’, you know.”

  William told Alistair, “Because Charles cannae keep a secret.” He nodded as if to emphasize his point.

  “Still?” A shocked Alistair asked.

  “‘Tis worse than ever before,” William said.

  “I keep your secret well enough,” Charles shot back.

  “Which one is that?” Alistair asked.

  William pushed his spectacles up his nose, and gave Charles a warning look. “If you tell, I shall never again let you cheat at poker.”

  Charles ignored him and cleared his throat. “Five cards, jokers wild, lads?” He waited for each of them to give the go-ahead, and then dealt the first card to Nichola
s, followed by Alistair, Gavin, William, Barclay, and then himself. He started to deal the second card as he said, “William is smitten.”

  “Again?” Barclay asked.

  Gavin peeked at his first and then his second card. “When is he not smitten?” Everyone smiled except William, who looked intensely perturbed at Charles. Gavin knew it wouldn’t last long – it never did.

  “What do you do these days,” Alistair asked Barclay. His hand was not looking promising and the third card was no help at all.

  “He is the reason we meet in secret,” Charles answered. He lowered his voice to just over a whisper. “He is a schoolmaster now.”

  “Ah,” said Alistair.

  “Precisely,” said Barclay. “We are honorable, constantly sober, and must keep ourselves beyond reproach on all counts. ‘Tis unthinkably borin’, although I do have one advantage.”

  Nicholas picked up his fifth card and rearranged his hand. “Which is?”

  “I often find myself in the company of well educated, and I might add, quite agreeable lasses.”

  “Barclay has yet to find a wife?” Gavin teased. He studied his hand, gathered them in a pile and placed them face down on the table in front of him.

  “I see no bride darkenin’ your door either,” Barclay shot back.

  Gavin defiantly lifted his chin. “I have a wife. She is just terribly shy and wishes not to meet any of my poker acquaintances. She dinna approve of poker.”

  “He lies,” Barclay scoffed. He put two pence on the table and scooted them to the middle. “Ante up, Lads.”

  “‘Twould be just my luck to marry a lass who dinna approve of poker,” William moaned as he added his own coins. “Naturally, I shall completely adore any lass who would adore me. I have begged and pleaded, but Barclay simply will not share nary a one of his pleasin’ lasses.”

  “None of you have wives?” Nicholas asked.

  “And there is little hope for any of us, now that you have taken McKenna,” said Gavin. “‘Twas not a one of us who dinna fancy her.”

  “Persuading McKenna to marry me was not easy, I assure you,” said Nicholas.

  “Persuadin’ McKenna of anythin’ was never easy,” said Charles.

  “Speakin’ of cheatin’ at cards,” Barclay said out of the blue, “have you heard the latest news?”

  “What news?” Alistair asked.

  “They have invented a machine that can tell when a lad is lyin’.”

  “Truly?” William asked.

  “He is lyin’,” Gavin muttered.

  “A machine such as that would come in handy in a poker game,” William thoughtfully said. With a pair of aces in his hand, it was going to be a good night.

  Nicholas laughed. “I doubt such as we shall be allowed to buy it. It will likely be used by sheriffs and constables.”

  “On criminals?” Gavin asked. “How does it work?”

  “I am not certain,” Nicholas started. “I believe...”

  Charles said. “Care to bet, Nicholas. Otherwise, we shall be here all night and then what shall McKenna do?”

  “I shudder to think,” said Nicholas. He looked at his mismatched hand and then started a pile of discards. “I fold.”

  “So do I. Besides, I am thirsty,” Butler Alistair said. When none of the others appeared to be getting up, he sighed. He stood, went to a serving tray behind Nicholas, and brought only one glass and a bottle of whisky back to the table. Alistair sat back down and began to pour himself a drink. “Tis my night off,” he said as he looked at all their gaping mouths.

  “True,” said Nicholas. He reached around behind him for more glasses and then handed them out. He took the bottle from Alistair, poured less than half a glass for himself, and passed the bottle.

  Charles immediately took note of the small amount of whisky in Nicholas’ glass. Distracting him was not going to be as easy as it had been the Saturday before. William won the first hand, the men anted up, enjoyed their drinks, and settled down to concentrate on the game. Alistair won the second hand.

  “You forget,” said Nicholas to Alistair. “I promised McKenna I would win back all the money I lost last Saturday.”

  “Aye,” Alistair answered, “but I dinna promise her not to beat you.”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Gavin, what occupation have you taken up?”

  “I am a button pusher,” Gavin answered as he began to deal the next hand.

  “A button pusher?” Alistair asked.

  Gavin stopped dealing and used his index finger to imitate pushing buttons. “The buttons on a cash register over at the shop.”

  “Which shop?” Nicholas asked.

  “All a lad or lass could possibly need to hoe a garden includin’ the hoe,” Gavin answered.

  “Dinna forget nuts, bolts and screws,” Charles reminded him.

  Nicholas nodded. “Then we shall be seeing a lot of each other, for we shall need those aplenty.” This hand was not looking much better than the last.

  Gavin returned Nicholas’ smile and resumed dealing. “I would much rather do what William does. He makes shoes.”

  “A cobbler?” Alistair asked.

  “‘Tis out of necessity,” Gavin answered. “I’ve known no other lad to wear out a pair of shoes as fast as William.”

  “You’d not like makin’ shoes,” William told Gavin. “‘Tis troublesome on the good days. On the bad days, there are ten lasses in the shop to try on every pair they can find no matter the size.”

  “Shoes or hats matters not,” said Charles. “‘Tis the heat. It has muddled all our minds.”

  “How is McKenna?” William asked. “I have yet to see her since she returned.”

  “She is very well,” Nicholas answered. “We have two sons and a daughter on the way. At least we are hoping it is a daughter.”

  “And our laird?” Barclay asked. This was going to be his hand to win and he was thrilled, although his poker face was well practiced.

  Nicholas placed his small bet and then emptied his glass of whiskey. “We received a call just yesterday and he is sending more instructions. All is well in Colorado, and perhaps soon the mail shall not take so very long to reach us.”

  Gavin chuckled. “I do enjoy your accent, Nicholas, although ‘tis a bit hard to get on with.”

  Nicholas tried to act indignant as he poured himself another drink. “I beg your pardon? I do not have an accent.” The others laughed, but he refused to crack a smile. “I did hear that in India, an airplane carried thousands of letters from one town to another. They are calling it airmail.”

  “How long before airplanes can fly across the ocean?” Charles asked. He called Nicholas’ bet and raised him a pound.

  Nicholas immediately folded. “I have no idea, but would it not be splendid? We might someday cross an entire ocean in less than a day.”

  “The Zeppelin might could do it,” said William, “If they could keep it from crashin’ in foul weather.”

  Alistair looked at his new hand of cards, set them down, and raised the bet to two pounds.

  “Made by the Germans, naturally,” Gavin grumbled as he too folded.

  “Why do you say it like that?” Alistair asked.

  “Because we’ve a new king and the Germans mean to go to war,” he answered.

  “I’ll not believe it,” said William. “King George and Kaiser Wilhelm are cousins. They’ll not fight.”

  “Then why do the Germans try to match the size of our fleet?” Gavin asked.

  “I agree with Gavin,” said Alistair. “When it comes to land, power, and fortune, a lad will fight his own brother for it. Your bet, Charles.”

  “I call.”

  As luck would have it Charles won that hand, but he was far more interested in beating Nicholas. Therefore, he carefully waited until after the next deal to ask his question hoping to distract him. “What shall the Americans do if we go to war.”

  “I have not the slightest notion what President Taft will do.”

 
; “Speakin’ of war,” said Charles. “Would you lads know of anyone who might oppose the buildin’ of the castle?” his question was met with blank stares from Gavin, William, and Barclay.

  “Who?” asked Gavin.

  “‘Tis what we are hopin’ to find out,” Charles answered. He explained the situation and then turned to Nicholas, “Perhaps we might offer a reward?”

  “Perhaps,” Nicholas agreed, “but for now, I intend to win this hand. I bet five pounds.”

  There was no more said about the threats against the castle that night and one of them in particular was glad the subject was dropped.

  Charles was taken aback by the bet and studied his hand while the other four men folded. “I fold as well.” He watched Nicholas collect the pot, gathered the cards, and began to shuffle them.

  “How is the buildin’ goin’?” William asked.

  “The cleanup is tedious, but we are makin’ progress. The kitchen wall is unstable, but we hope to simply reinforce it.”

  Charles dealt the cards and when Nicholas again bet two pounds, he rubbed his chin. “I call and raise you a pound. When is the babe due?”

  Nicholas was determined not to let Charles distract him and met his bet. “I call.” He watched Charles lay down a pair of tens, showed his three kings, and grinned.

  “‘Tis truly the end of our friendship,” said Charles, tossing his hand in the pile of discards.

  Nicholas laughed, and drew all the money to him. “Consider how happy you are making McKenna. After all, you work for her.”

  Charles rolled his eyes. “I forgot about that.” He looked a little glum through the next and then the next hand, for his cards were horrible and he folded early. “By the way,” he said just as Nicholas placed a bet, “two stonemasons have already arrived. They have taken rooms at the hotel.”

  “That is good news,” said Nicholas, not taking his mind off the game.