Call of Glengarron (20 page)

“No.” I said it a shade too quickly. “Thank you—everything’s all right.”

“Ah well ...” But he wasn’t satisfied, I could tell. Fortunately, though, in his position there was nothing he could do to interfere.

Or so I was naive enough to believe at the time. Two or three miles further on the bus drew up again. Angus MacRae touched his cap to me as he passed on his way to the door.

“Good night to you, miss.”

The conductor ribbed him brightly. “This is not your stop, Angus. What are you up to, then?”

MacRae looked sheepish. “There is a wee task that I have to attend to,” he said as he descended the steps to the road. “It will not be far for me to walk home from here.”

With a sly grin the conductor addressed the bus. “So Angus MacRae is away for an extra dram tonight. It is a wonder the poor man dares, the way his wife keeps him on a chain.”

There was laughter at this, and several ribald comments, but I didn’t take them in. The fact that Angus MacRae was married to a shrew, and was risking her wrath tonight by alighting before his usual stop, was entirely his own business. It hardly mattered to me....

A couple of people climbed aboard and the bus was away again. The lights of the little hamlet whirled by outside the window. I saw an inn, cozy and warm-looking, and I wished that Jamie and I could have stayed there for the night. We passed a cottage or two, and a village store that was closed and deserted. And next to the shop, brightly lit, stood a public telephone booth.

A phone booth. And Angus MacRae had got off here unexpectedly. The man had plainly been astonished to see Jamie and me on this bus. He must have smelled something wrong in the air. Maybe my distress and Jamie’s exhaustion were obvious to anybody.

I knew what Angus MacRae was going to do, all right. He was going to ring the castle to make sure all was well. Just so he couldn’t be blamed later for doing nothing about it.

That day I’d met him in the woods, he’d made it clear that his loyalty was to Craig. And I had Craig’s son out late in the evening on a bus that was heading away from Glengarron Castle. MacRae might even have overheard me getting tickets for the end of the route, and living locally he would know about the connecting bus that could take us all the way to Inverness....

I cursed the man for being so on the ball. Yet I couldn’t really blame him. It was understandable that Angus MacRae wanted to keep himself in the clear with the Laird. His living, possibly even his home, depended upon Craig’s continued goodwill.

At this very moment MacRae would be getting through to the castle, discovering that Jamie and I were missing, and Craig was out searching for us. How long would it take them, I wondered, to arrange for the interception of the bus? Not much more than the time needed to make a couple of phone calls.

In a very short while Jamie and I would be hauled off unceremoniously. Or perhaps they’d prefer to be discreet about it. How simple to have the bus met at the terminus, and let us get off in the ordinary way before swooping down on us.

Very likely, by then, Craig himself would have been informed that we were traveling on the bus. I guessed that having drawn a blank with his own search in the jeep, he would either return to the castle, or more likely, phone through for news of any developments. It was a pretty safe bet, I decided, that Craig himself would be in the reception committee.

It wouldn’t be necessary to use force. Jamie, I knew, would jump at the chance of returning to Glengarron with his daddy. And I would go along too, without a protest. To do otherwise would be to abandon Jamie, and that was unthinkable. The cords that bound me to little Jamie seemed to be pulling tighter and tighter all the time.

It would have been so easy in the lulling warmth and comfort of the bus to let go, to give up. So easy to loll there, Jamie fast asleep, and wait for fate to overtake us.

I snatched myself back from invidious temptation, and shook Jamie. He struggled unwillingly out of sleep, rubbing his eyes with small clenched fists.

“Are we home now, Lucy?”

I skipped around his question. “We have to get off in a minute, darling.”

I stood up and pressed the bell. Then with Jamie’s hand in mine, we swayed toward the exit.

Up in the front the conductor broke off from chatting with some friends. “There is a long way yet before we reach Clachanodrie.”

“Thank you, but I ... I made a mistake. This is where I want.”

The man hurried down the length of the bus, concern on his round, florid face.

“Are you sure that this is where you want?”

“Yes, thank you—quite sure.” I did my best to look confident.

“But this is only Blair Cross,” he muttered, scratching his head. “You cannot really ...”

I felt panic rising in my throat. Was he purposely trying to keep us from getting off? Had Angus MacRae said something to him?

The bus had stopped by now, but the conductor seemed too dazed to offer any help. I had to reach forward and open the door for myself.

“Good night,” I said brightly. I jumped down, and then turned to help Jamie.

The bus didn’t move off at once. Instead, the conductor stood on the step, watching us doubtfully. I knew I must do something decisive, something to convince him that I really had a reason for getting off at this particular spot.

Calling another cheerful good night over my shoulder, I started to walk away briskly. Jamie, too startled to protest, dragged along beside me. Just a few yards back there was a crossroads, and without hesitation I swung around the corner to the right.

From behind came the sharp ting of a bell, and I heard the bus move off. I resisted an urge to glance back, and kept up a steady walking pace until the rumble of the diesel had died slowly away. Only then did I turn back to the crossroads.

So far I’d hardly taken note of my surroundings. Now, looking about me, I could understand the bus conductor’s concern. We were on open moorland, a flat stretch of bleak desolation. There were no trees, but just a low, scrubby sort of growth. Not a single house was in sight, not a light of any kind.

We seemed to be landed in the middle of nowhere.

The signpost was most discouraging. In one direction, it was apparently a mile and a half to the nearest place. In the opposite direction, there was no habitation for four miles. On the main road—if it could be graced with the name of main road—there was nothing nearer than six miles.

I looked down at Jamie, clinging tight to my hand, too tired now even to cry. How could I possibly get him any such distance?

And what if I did? Soon, inevitably, our pursuers would pinpoint our position. Soon, the conductor would have told his story about a girl and a tiny boy alighting at a lonely crossroads.

If only I hadn’t panicked about Angus MacRae giving us away. If only I’d taken time to think before jumping off the bus and landing us both in this hopeless situation.

What would Craig expect me to do now?

He would reason that I’d try to get as far away from this spot as I could. He wouldn’t expect me to linger here, where I could so easily be traced. To stand the smallest chance of beating him, I must act in a way he wouldn’t anticipate. Sometimes it paid off to do the least expected thing, the seemingly crazy thing.

I decided I was going to stay right where I was. I was going to take Jamie just out of sight of the road, and lie low.

For a few seconds I paused, considering. The conductor had seen me stepping out to the right. Therefore I would go the opposite way.

After a very short distance, twenty or thirty yards maybe, I stopped and shone the flashlight around. I saw now that the scrubby growth was last year’s bracken, withered and collapsed upon itself. Mercifully it looked fairly dry.

But the roadside verge was very soft ground, and I thought it might mold footsteps too revealingly. I took Jamie on a few more yards, flashing the light from side to side until I found a stony patch which appeared to be firm. I tried putting down a tentative foot. When I lifted it again, I could see no impression where my shoe had been.

“This is what real trackers do,” I said chattily. But I couldn’t catch Jamie’s interest any more. “Never mind, darling. In just one more minute we’re going to have a nice long sleep. I’ll give you some more chocolate before you settle down.”

With a sudden rush of guilty tenderness I picked up the little boy and carried him into the bracken till we were far enough away from the road. I found a slight hollow, and putting Jamie down there, I set about preparing a rough bed. Even in its dead dried-up state, the bracken was tough, its stalks resisting my tugging. But I managed to collect enough of it to cushion us.

Unbuttoning my coat, I lay down and cuddled Jamie close. Fortunately the coat was a loose fitting style, full enough to wrap around us both. I pulled some of the bracken over us, for extra warmth, as well as for concealment.

Jamie forgot about the chocolate. He fell asleep almost at once, breathing deeply, but I kept my ears alert for any other sound that might mean the pursuit had caught up with us.

It must have been about twenty minutes before anything happened. I heard a car approaching from the direction the bus had taken. It came at high speed, and zoomed straight past us. It was quite a while before my heartbeat eased back to normal.

I had dozed off myself, I knew that. I jerked awake with my senses immediately alert. Far away was the sound of another motor.

This one too was traveling at high speed, fast getting closer. Fervently, I willed it to go past without stopping. But to my despair it began to slow.

Any doubt I’d had left, any small hope that it might not be Craig, was instantly removed when I heard his voice. It reached me sharp and distinct, almost as though he was speaking for my benefit.

“She can’t possibly have got far from here.”

“No, I suppose not, the poor young thing.”

Alistair Lennox was speaking sadly, as if he was reluctant to torment me by pressing on my heels. “And the boy with her, too. It’s a miracle she managed to get so far as this. She has great courage.”

“I don’t deny she’s got courage,” Craig snapped. “Damned foolhardy courage. Come on, Uncle, we’d better look along here first.”

I heard feet crunching on the road. Two doors slammed. The jeep charged off taking the road opposite me, the one I’d first walked along to fool the bus conductor. Evidently he had given them every detail about us.

It wouldn’t be long before they were back. The village was only a mile and a half away. What had seemed an enormous distance when I’d contemplated walking it with Jamie, would be almost nothing in the jeep.

In fact, the return journey took them about ten minutes, so I guessed they must have stopped to ask some questions. As the jeep drew near again I could feel my skin prickling, and there was a dry, bitter taste in my mouth. But it didn’t stop. It shot over the crossroads, and came on past our hiding place. This way they had four miles to go—it ought to take them a bit longer.

Should I wake Jamie and make a run for it?

But I had no idea of the lay of the land. The darkness was more intense now, and if I used the flashlight it might be seen from miles away.

I decided it was best not to disturb Jamie. Asleep, there was no danger of him calling out, or trying to talk to me. If Craig and his uncle came back and searched the area around the crossroads, we shouldn’t stand much of a chance. But it
was
a chance, nevertheless. Just an outside chance.

The first distant murmur of the jeep returning set me trembling helplessly. I got furious with myself for not being able to control my own body. The shaking became so violent that I was certain it would arouse Jamie. But still he slept on, breathing peacefully in my arms.

While the jeep was still far off I became aware of another sound—the brisk crunch of a man striding along the road. For a moment I was petrified, until I realized that surely it must be a villager on his way home.

When he was very near—just about at the crossroads, I judged, the man came to a halt.

Who was he? What could he be doing here? After a brief pause I heard the sharp scrape of a match, and there was a faint flicker as the flame rose and died. He was only lighting his pipe.

But still he loitered, as if waiting for something or someone. I wondered if I dare risk calling out, pleading with him to help me.

The idea was never a serious one in my mind. I knew I was going to stay put right here, praying for a miracle, hoping that Craig and his uncle and this other man would all go away.

What I should do in that event was such an infinitely remote problem that I gave it no consideration at all.

When the jeep pulled up the identity of the walker was established immediately.

“Why, it’s Angus MacRae,” I heard Craig call out in surprise.

“I thought it might be you, sir, when I heard a jeep. Is there any news?”

“None, I’m afraid. But what brings you here?”

“I was worried, sir, not doing anything. So I telephoned Willie Burns at the bus depot, and he told me about Miss Calvert and the little laddie getting off at Blair Cross. I thought maybe I could help.”

“You mean you walked here from home?

“It’s no’ so far, sir.”

“Well, it’s damn good of you, Angus. But, frankly, I don’t know where to begin looking. They just seem to have disappeared.”

Alistair Lennox’s voice was full of concern. “They might have been given a lift, Craig.”

“But, Uncle, the only people on these roads at night are locals. The news would have leaked back to us—you know that.”

“I suppose you’re right, my boy.”

Craig’s next remark came as an angry explosion. “Damn it all, they must be somewhere, and it can’t be far. Jamie wouldn’t be able to go any distance—not after walking the length of Nairn’s track. My guess is she’s hiding out somewhere, right under our noses.”

Fear shook my whole body again. It sounded as if Craig proposed searching for us, here and now.

If the three men began covering the ground systematically, they’d be bound to find Jamie and me within minutes— they couldn’t miss us.