Journey with Joe (Middlemarch Capture Book 5) Page 2

  “Early days,” Joe said. “I’ll relax once they’re on Ione. Adair Caimbeulach didn’t strike me as trustworthy. Kelvin told me and Sly tales of the reaving between the clans. Hold. Something moved in that bush. Did you see it?”

  “It’s not bothering the cattle,” Sam said.

  Joe approached the bush, caution keeping his steps stealthy. This planet contained some interesting flora and fauna, some of which held hidden dangers. Humongous birds capable of carrying off an unwary man. Zylons—cute, fluffy creatures with a lethal bite. Cannibals who wore bones in their noses and tossed captives into cooking pots. Then, Sly had tangled with the princess from Seelie who had turned him blind. And that was a fraction of the dangers they’d faced so far since arriving.

  The hot-pink bushes rustled again. Something else that was so different from Earth. The plants didn’t come in shades of green. The flora on the planet of Tiraq grew in bright, blinding colors that didn’t go well with hangovers. Joe eased closer. Two big eyes stared at him. He moved a fraction nearer.

  “It’s a bird of some sort. An owl,” he said in surprise. He reached for it and the owl scooted out of hiding, one of its wings dragging.

  “A broken wing,” Sam said. “Aw, he’s a baby. Check out his pink down.”

  Sam had trained as a vet before they’d left Earth because of the virus.

  “Can you fix it?” Joe asked. A pink owl. Weird.

  “I can try.” Sam crouched and scooped up the pink bird while speaking soothing baby talk.

  Duncan smirked. “If that’s a sample of your repertoire it’s no wonder you have women troubles.”

  “Shut up,” Sam murmured, his fingers gentle on the bird’s wing. “Yeah, it’s broken all right. Joe, can you ask Max and Kenan to hunt for me? I’m assuming he eats small rodents. Two micelets should do the trick.”

  Joe left Sam to fuss over the owl while he and Duncan pushed the cattle from the wooded valley onto open moorland.

  Joe appraised the cattle. He’d purchased one bull and twenty-nine cows. The cattle were in prime condition, and he suspected most of the cows were in-calf. He frowned as he recalled the other cattle he’d seen. Each had been leaner, and an educated guess told him they suffered from worms or a similar parasite. Although happy with his purchase, he didn’t understand the discrepancies between the cattle, and why Adair Caimbeulach had sold him their prime stock. His cattle had chewed their cud in a separate pen, more docile, healthier and magnificent compared to the other animals he’d seen. None of this had made sense, and he abhorred ambiguities of this nature. It made him suspicious. It made him wary. It made him wonder why.

  Still, if he managed to get the entire herd back to the resort without loss, he and Sly would end up the winners in this scenario.

  After heading off a meandering cow, Duncan joined Joe at the back of the herd. Max and Kenan had taken a side each, keeping the cattle on a straight path across the open pastel pink-green grassland.

  “Problem?” Duncan asked.

  “Did you notice the disparity in the cattle?”

  “Your new cattle are far superior,” Duncan said. “Bigger and healthier.”

  “Why would they sell us their best cattle?”

  “You think they’re up to something? That Adair bloke bore a shifty eye. He never met your gaze during the entire transaction.”

  Joe nodded. “I didn’t trust him. Something in his manner brushed my fur the wrong way. And, they never had these cattle when Joe and I visited the region earlier.”

  “You think they’re stolen?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Which means we might have irate visitors other than Adair trying to liberate their cattle.”

  “Yes,” Joe said, his tone grim. “The thought occurred.” He scanned a second herd of cattle grazing in the distance, noted the herdsman studying them. He waved, and the man returned the greeting.

  Sam caught up with them, the baby owl snugged against his chest in a makeshift sling made from his shirt.

  “Max and Kenan will hunt for you once we’ve crossed the moor,” Joe said. “The cattle can only move one direction once we enter the canyon on the other side.”

  The day passed without drama, and Joe relaxed with more distance between his herd and the nearest Scothage clan. He and his friends pushed the cattle until twilight huddled over the landscape, muting the bright pink foliage, the iridescent red scrub, and the emerald green buds.

  Instinct bade Joe to push onward, but he’d hate the cattle to lose condition. They needed to eat and rest, especially if they were in-calf. “We’ll stop in a clearing near to here. It’s one place where I’ve stashed wood and brush to make an enclosure.”

  “I hear water,” Duncan said.

  “Yes, I thought we’d let them drink their fill before pushing them on to our stop. The stream is through that stand of trees.” Joe pointed to their right, the gloom of the early evening no barrier to a feline shapeshifter’s range of sight.

  “Let’s do it,” Sam said. “I’ll tell Max.”

  Joe turned to check the area behind them. “I’ll tell Kenan.”

  A howl rang through the air. Joe tensed as he shared a glance with his cousins.

  “I didn’t realize there were wolves in the area,” Sam said.

  “Leo and I saw nor heard any sign of wolves during our research trip.” Joe scowled when another mournful howl echoed across the landscape. The cattle ceased their amble. Each animal increased its pace. Several snorted and one beast bellowed, the herd uneasy with the foreign cries.

  Duncan cocked his head, listening. “The wolves are heading in this direction.”

  Disquiet slid through Joe’s belly. He’d heard at least two wolves, and he agreed with Duncan’s assessment. The wolves were traveling their way. Should they hole up as he’d intended or push the cattle onward? No, he needed to stick with his original plan and keep his and Sly’s animals healthy.

  Joe sighed as the wolves howled again. “Guess we won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”

  2 – The Plan to Retrieve Her Coos

  Mungo prepared a bundle of provisions for her excursion. Janeet handed over bread, cheese, dried meat and a flask of ale after Mungo told her she intended to go for a walk to clear her head. After promising Janeet she’d collect wild herbs, she exited the keep only to run smack into Adair and his friends.

  “Mungo, where are ye going?” Adair demanded. With his black hair, blue eyes and beefy build, he resembled their father. As did her other brothers. Things might have been different for her if she’d taken after her father too. The old resentment gripped her chest, the accompanying sourness muting her optimism at having a plan.

  She gestured at her basket. “Janeet requested wild herbs for the kitchen. I’m going to the marshy area of the moorlands.”

  Adair sent a suspicious glance at her basket. “Why do ye have food?”

  “I’m hungry because I dinnae break my fast.” Mungo darted forward and poked her brother in his fleshy belly. “Ye ken ye ate the porridge.”

  “Oomph.” Adair danced from her reach, scowling at his two friends and their amusement at his expense. “Take a maid with ye and see ye’re not back late.”

  “I wish to be alone.”

  Adair’s dark brows drew together and the mulish set of his mouth informed her of his determination. “Nay. ’Tis not safe. Go with a maid or stay here.”

  Mungo restrained the retort tingling at the tip of her tongue, fueled by her fury at her brother for selling her coos. She sent her gaze to her feet, acting the submissive woman while her right hand tightened around the handle of her basket. She wished it was a dirk. “Aye, I’ll ask Elspeth to go with me, and we won’t be long. Janeet requires the herbs for dinner.”

  “’Tis not safe for two lassies alone,” Lachlan, one of Adair’s friends commented.

  “Ye have the right of it,” Adair said. “Father wouldnae let ye go on yer own.”

  Mungo drove her nails into her palms, channeli
ng her anger into pain. Father didn’t notice she breathed. Why the devil would it bother him if she wandered the moors alone? Intimate with the area, she kenned the best place to gather herbs, to pick berries or wildflowers. Nay, not one of her actions troubled Father.

  “Take Elspeth and a trainee soldier to watch yer back.” Adair hollered for the Master of the Sword who was training the young lads on the practice fields to the left of the courtyard. When the man spoke to Adair, he gave a curt nod before he returned to his trainees. A moment later, a gangly youth trotted over to join them, his cheeks crimson from vigorous training. “Ye will escort my sister and the maid to the moor and keep them safe while they collect herbs,” Adair ordered.

  “Aye, my lord.” The youth inclined his head in deference then straightened and quietly waited.

  After leering at two passing maids, Adair strutted away. He reminded Mungo of one of their roosters. She snorted in derision. Their brain capacity was similar. Once Adair and his friends vanished into the stables, she turned to their unlikely protector. “Please wait here while I collect Elspeth.”

  Gritting her teeth since her plans were in tatters, she spoke with Janeet, telling her of Adair’s edict. Janeet’s brows rose, but she nodded and called Elspeth.

  The threesome set off to the moor. At least she’d establish if the strangers had taken her coos in this direction. Janeet had told her she’d heard the men came from over the sea, and if this was true, they’d drive the herd toward the coast. Once she confirmed this as a fact, she’d pick the herbs and bide her time until dusk. She could do no further investigation with Elspeth and their guard watching her actions.

  Mungo sighed at the clatter of a sword scabbard from their rear. The thwack, thwack, thwack was working her frayed nerves, and she longed to whirl and snap at the young soldier. This close attention shown by Adair raised her hackles.

  First, the issue with her gowns and now the order not to venture out alone. She wondered if she should worry or quiz Reilynn. Her stepmother learned more than Mungo because she had her father’s ear and ran the keep in his absence. While Adair considered himself in charge, Mungo kenned better.

  They exited the forest and the moorland spread in front of them in a flat expanse of grass, herbs and other plants. Mungo led them to the boggy spot where she intended to collect the marsh spinach. She set down her basket.

  “Be that food?” the soldier asked.

  “What is yer name?” Mungo asked.

  “Derry,” the gangly lad said. “Be that food? I’m starving.” His belly rumbled in emphasis.

  “Help yerself,” Mungo said grudgingly. Her plan was falling apart and now possessed so many holes, it leaked. A shudder marched down her spine—an omen of sorts. Should she give up her plan? She considered for an instant and squared her shoulders. Mungo snatched up her woven collection bag and kicked off her stout boots and stockings. Barefooted, she entered the marsh bog and plucked the juvenile heads of spinach. The hem of her gown dragged in the mud and long plants and flapped around her bare legs. Another sore point. It was all verra well to confiscate her trews and tunics, but the dim-wits hadnae considered her lack of gowns or the fact she’d grown some since their purchase over three rotations ago.

  Mungo’s mind drifted back to her coos, a sense of loss squeezing her heart. They were more family to her than her father or brothers. Nay, she’d go ahead with her plan to recover her coos. She picked the spinach then joined Elspeth who was rapidly filling her basket with the bright pink nuts from the ginga tree. As she gathered nuts, Mungo considered her scheme again.

  She’d excuse herself early from the hall. As long as Adair didnae order the maid to bar her door before her departure, she’d leave the castle via the secret passage only kenned to the family. From there, she’d need to improvise since Derry’s and Elspeth’s presence meant she couldnae prepare as much as she’d wanted. A barebones strategy, yet it would have to do.

  She refused to fail.

  They were her coos, and she wanted them back.

  As she’d expected, finding the trail presented no difficulties. She followed it, wandering farther from Derry in the pretext of collecting ginga nuts. Satisfied the men were heading toward the coast with her herd, she picked up the ripe pink nuts while imagining the astonishment on her father’s face when she drove her coos into the keep courtyard. Her momentary satisfaction fled once she realized her plot held a flaw. Mayhap, she’d hide the herd in the secret valley, after all, in case the menfolk of her family repeated their stupidity.

  Mungo reached for a handful of nuts and tossed them in her laden basket. Nay, what she needed to do was keep her wits about her and fathom out the reason behind the weird behavior from the males in her family. Once she’d stashed her coos she’d speak to her father and point out she’d stolen them. They belonged to her. Her father would celebrate the sneaky thieving, and she’d become the stuff of Caimbeulach clan legend.

  Later at the evening dinner, Mungo ate a hearty meal before excusing herself.

  “Where do ye go?” Adair demanded.

  “To Mother’s solar to read and do embroidery,” Mungo replied in a sickly sweet voice.

  Her stepmother shot her a suspicious glance, but Adair didn’t notice Reilynn’s astonishment at Mungo’s blatant falsehood. She’d never willingly embroidered a stitch in her twenty-two rotations, preferring to wander the countryside and remain outdoors with her coos. But Adair knew nothing of girlish hobbies, ignoring her as much as her father and older brothers unless it suited him. Right now, his attention came because of their father’s absence. No doubt, he wished to comport himself with distinction.

  “Verra well,” Adair said.

  Mungo left the hall and climbed the stone staircase to her chamber. She swiftly donned her clothes plus a dark cloak to shield her from the cold. She collected her lamp, purchased from a traveling peddler many rotations ago, and shoved it beneath her cloak.

  Anticipation made her clumsy, and she fumbled her quiver of arrows. “Och!” Muttering, she regathered her arrows and crept from her chamber. At the last moment, she bolted the latch after her. If Adair checked on her, he’d find her chamber locked and assume the maid had followed his orders to bar the door.

  With a rapid glance to her left and right, she scanned for servants and family members before slipping into her father’s chamber. A trespasser in forbidden territory. After closing the door, she stood for an instant until she determined she was truly alone.

  His huge bed with the expensive feather mattress stood empty. Servants had fastened the heavy navy and red bed curtains back to the four pole corners. Not a stitch of clothing marred the sumptuous rugs, imported from the planet Gersian, while the surface of his clothing chest gleamed with not a speck of dust. The maid had the fireplace stoked ready for a match, but an air of emptiness filled the space. Mungo much preferred Reilynn’s chamber with its scented candles and vases of fresh flowers.

  Satisfied the way was clear, she pressed the secret button in the carved wall behind the headboard of the bed. When the door slid open, she entered the gloomy tunnel before closing the portal behind her. Darkness closed in, and she switched on her lamp.

  Not her favorite part of her coos recovery plan. The gloomy tunnel made her think of scary bogle tales and the middle of her back prickled as if someone spied on her. A guilty conscience, obviously. Nevertheless, she hastened through the cramped space, using one hand to hold the lamp high and the other to grope at the moist stone wall for balance.

  No one had used the tunnel recently and cobwebs clung to her face and caught on her cloak and quiver. She forged onward, stooping low in places to avoid bashing her noggin. Her breaths echoed in the enclosed space. This wasnae as much fun as when she’d discovered the passage as a curious youngster.

  The passage spat her out beneath the keep in a dank cave. Mungo closed the exit door, doused her lamp and crawled on all fours to the cavern entrance. There, she watched for the guards. Although she doubted they’d noti
ce her exiting, she still used caution, waiting until their patrol path took them away from this edge of the keep boundary.

  Seconds later, Mungo bounded from her hiding place and moved steadily until she reached the trees leading into the forest. The planet’s moons glowed from above, lighting her way. Unfortunately, the moons offered excellent vision to the guards too. She continued to walk at an even pace instead of dashing as her mind urged. A sprint—a flash of movement might attract attention from the guard.

  She pressed onward across a patch of open ground. Her heart pounded while she waited for a shout from a guard. It didn’t come, but it took long moments for her pulse to cease its frenzied race and for her breathing to return to normal.

  Finally, she reached the welcome shelter of the trees.

  She’d done it.

  Escaped from the keep, despite Adair’s close attention. With a grin and a skip in her step, she turned her back on the keep and hurried along the path that wound deeper into the valley.

  Although her herd had a cycle start on her, if the strangers knew their coos, they would’ve noticed most of her beasts were in-calf. To keep the coos healthy, they’d amble and allow them to graze and to rest. They’d let them dawdle to their destination.

  “But when are men wise?” Mungo muttered into the still air.

  The males of her acquaintance were dull and dim-witted. Oh, they thought themselves clever and sly, yet it was the womenfolk who kept the clan alive while the men warred with neighbors. Only last week she’d heard of two of the Northern clans at war with each other. To settle their constant squabbles, each clan had picked ten men. The ten men had set on each other with their broadswords, fighting to the death until one man remained.

  A barbaric practice with no winners.

  Yet her brothers had thought the battle an excellent way of determining the victor. Try telling that to the wives of the fallen men, the children. Those dependent on the clan for their living.