High on a Mountain (38 page)

Aye, kill me, Latharn. Send me home to my
loved ones.

But memory of Mùirne’s death flashed into his
mind, assaulted him with renewed force and ignited his need to seek
vengeance on the man who killed her. Ailean crouched and glared at
Latharn while inside, in some part of his mind beyond rational
thought, Da’s values took precedence and guided him. He would do
the honorable thing: he would avenge Mùirne.

As Latharn raised his pistol and aimed it,
Ailean sprang toward him. But before Latharn could fire, a knife
whistled through the air within an inch of his neck and embedded in
a tree growing on the other side of the stream. He pivoted toward
the source of the knife and aimed the pistol.

“NOOOO!” Ailean shouted as he reached Latharn
and charged into him. He knocked the pistol to the side as it
fired, and the lead ball narrowly missed Kutahyah. Ailean saw her
standing, holding the axe in her left hand, her right hand still
extended, having completed the arc of the knife throw.

Latharn turned as he fell, grabbed Ailean’s
shirt with his left hand and brought him down to the ground. The
two men grappled and struggled. They rolled across the ground
almost to the brink of the drop-off.

Ailean panted and faint whimpers and groans
rose in his throat as he fought to escape the death he would
willingly have embraced only minutes before. His fear for Kutahyah
fueled his desperate battle for life as much as his need to wreak
vengeance on Latharn. If Latharn killed him now, what would happen
to Kutahyah?

Latharn slammed the heavy pistol into the
side of Ailean’s head as they inched toward the precipice. He
lifted it again and brought it down with all his might. Ailean
turned his head to the side, and the pistol struck him a glancing
blow on the temple. Sparks filled his vision and his ears rang. The
light faded and blackness cloaked the day. Ailean lay dazed and
unable to move.

____________

Latharn scrambled to his feet. His hands
shook as he tried to reload his pistol. With a screech, Kutahyah
ran toward him with the axe. He turned to face her and hunkered
down, his eyes searching for something he could use to deflect the
blow of the axe. He grabbed one of the saplings lying on the
ground. He swung it up as Kutahyah reached him.

The sapling struck her stomach and stopped
her attack, but her forward momentum coupled with the upward thrust
from Latharn tumbled her over his head, past him. Kutahyah dropped
the axe as she reached for something, anything, to stop her fall
over the drop-off. Her feet were kicking and her arms were flailing
as she disappeared over the rim.

Kutahyah hit the side of the embankment and
slid down it beside the waterfall, rolling over the flat extension
that was part of the second ledge of rocks. As the force of her
fall carried her to the brink of the ledge, she grabbed at the
loose rocks, seeking to stop her fall, searching for something to
grasp that would stop her plunge to her death.

With one hand, she caught hold of the
protruding root of a tree growing out of the embankment. It stopped
her descent as she reached the sheer rock face that dropped
straight down from the ledge. Kutahyah hung precariously from the
whorl of the root, suspended, dangling over the open space below
her.

____________

Latharn grabbed the axe and stood over
Ailean. As he raised it for the death blow, Ailean’s head cleared
enough for him to see the axe, to see the maniacal gleam in
Latharn’s eyes and the demented grin on his lips. He rolled onto
his side as Latharn brought the axe down, and the sharp metal blade
struck the earth where Ailean’s head had been.

He saw Latharn raise the axe for another
blow. A realization that Latharn had the axe came to him. If
Latharn had the axe, he must have taken it from Kutahyah! Where was
Kutahyah?

Panic overwhelmed him, gave him strength, and
he struggled to his knees. As Latharn started to bring the axe down
again, Ailean thrust forward, slammed his shoulder into Latharn’s
legs and knocked him off balance. Latharn stepped backward with his
left foot to regain his balance, the ball of his foot coming to
rest on the crumbling brink of the drop-off, leaving the heel with
nothing to support it.

Latharn dropped the axe as he teetered on the
edge of the bank, swinging his arms wildly in an effort to regain
his balance. He spun his body as he fell, and he screamed.
Latharn’s cry ended abruptly when he landed head-first on the rocks
of the second ledge of the waterfall. His body flipped over
backward when he hit the ledge, and his neck snapped. His body lay
quiet and still on the ledge. Then, slowly, it slipped over the
edge of the rocks, and, propelled by the water, it dropped out of
sight.

Ailean’s head jerked from left to right and
back again as he searched for Kutahyah.

“Kutaaaaaahyaaaaah!” he screamed. His chest
heaved with dry sobs and he screamed her name again.

FORTY-SEVEN

A small sound below the rim caught Ailean’s
attention. He approached the edge and leaned over to look for the
source of what he’d heard. He saw Kutahyah, hanging from the root
by one hand, out of reach, her face a mask of dread. She whimpered
softly.

A sob of relief burst from Ailean. He turned
and lowered his legs over the edge of the rim. He slid down to the
narrow flat area leading to the rock face and worked his way to the
root from which Kutahyah was suspended. He lay across the base of a
tree to anchor himself and strained to reach her. He grasped her
free hand and lifted her, dragged her onto the ledge. She let go of
the root, and he pulled her near.

Ailean raised himself to his knees, drew her
close and embraced her. Kutahyah threw her arms around his neck,
and they held each other tight, both of them shaking
uncontrollably. At last, he released her, and, with one arm around
her body, pulled her along as he crawled toward the bank. Ailean
braced himself against the stump of a large tree and stood. He put
his hands at Kutahyah’s waist and lifted her toward the lip of the
drop-off. She struggled to climb over it.

Ailean watched until Kutahyah pulled herself
to safety. He regarded the edge of the rim several feet above his
reach and took a few deep breaths. He dug his fingers and toes into
the earth and rocks of the embankment and slowly clawed his way
toward the top. Sweat poured from his body, and his muscles
quivered from the effort. At last he climbed onto the flat ground
and lay panting, his feet still hanging in mid-air.

When he had the strength to move, Ailean
crawled away from the precipice and stood, trembling and weak. He
took a few steps and dropped to his knees, holding his throbbing
head in his hands. Kutahyah went to his side and knelt by him. She
examined his wounded head, pushed his hair away from the bleeding
cut on his temple. Ailean pulled her hands away, held them in his
and kissed them. He looked for a long moment into her soft brown
eyes, realizing he had almost lost her.

Ailean took Kutahyah’s chin gently in his
hand, pulled her face close to his and kissed her lips tenderly.
Then kissed her again as she returned his kiss. He put his arms
around her waist, drew her close and held her, rested his face on
her shoulder. She put her arms around his neck.

As they held one another, something inside
Ailean’s heart cracked open, and the hot tears he’d never shed
flooded up from the depths of his soul and spilled silently into
the cool mountain air.

Ailean cried for Mùirne, for Coinneach-òg,
for all his family. He cried for the men who died all around him on
the moor and for those who died on the ship. The tears gushed
through his heart and his soul and washed away some of the guilt he
felt for being alive when none of the others were.

As he cried, his tears began to soothe the
searing torment he felt for wanting Kutahyah. And he cried in
relief and thankfulness that she had not been taken from him.

Gòrdan’s words had made him realize that
Mùirne died loving him, wanting him to live, to be happy. And he
knew that if he had died instead of Mùirne, he would have wanted
her to find love and happiness again. He had accepted that idea
with his mind, but not with his heart.

But now, his heart was softened and the last
remnant of resistance that stood in the way of his being able to
love Kutahyah was washed away.

And his anger at God dissolved in the hot
flood of tears, and he was able to pray.

Father, thank You for giving me Kutahyah. And
thank You for sparing her. I couldn’t go on living if I lost her
now. Please forgive me for turning my back on You.

Ailean waited until the last tears coursed
down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes and face dry with his hand. He
didn’t want Kutahyah to see him crying like a little boy. He raised
his head from her shoulder, with his face turned away from
hers.

He stood and walked to the precipice, looking
down at the valley in the distance where his life was anchored now.
He took a few deep breaths, wiped his hands over his face again to
remove the last vestiges of his tears and pushed his hair back from
his face.

He reached behind the waist of his
triubhas
and pulled out the remnant of his tunic he’d saved.
He fingered it lovingly and kissed it.

“Goodbye, Mùirne, my love. I’ll love you
forever,” he whispered. “Forever.”

He held it out over the precipice, and it
fluttered softly in the breeze. His fingers gripped it tightly, but
he forced himself to release it. As it left his hand, it dipped,
then was buoyed up by a current of air. It swirled and twirled as
the wind carried it away from him, past the treetops on the
mountainside. He watched until he could no longer see it.

Ailean turned to Kutahyah, who still knelt
where he’d left her. She looked at him and rose. He went to her,
took her in his arms and kissed her.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

EPILOGUE

Cherokee Territory, June, 1756

A little boy with shiny black hair raced down
from the woods when he saw his father riding home along the path
from Gulahiyi.

“
Edoda! Edoda!
” he shouted.

His father reined the horse to a stop and
turned in the saddle to watch his son. When the boy reached him, he
leaned over, grasped the small hands that reached up and lifted his
son, placing the boy in the saddle in front of him. They rode to
the log house on the hillside, the home Ailean had built for his
wife.

Kutahyah came to the open door, having heard
her son’s shouting, holding a toddler in her arms. A small boy
trailed behind her, clinging to her skirt. She smiled as she
watched Ailean swing down from the saddle. He lifted Aodh from the
horse, set him on the ground and handed him the horse’s reins. She
waited for her husband to come take her in his arms and kiss her,
as he always did when he came home from a trip.

After he kissed her, he caressed her swollen
belly, “How’s the little one?” he asked. “And how’s his
mother?”

“We’re both well. I have food almost ready to
eat. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I am. But I’ve got to unsaddle the
horse first.”

The small girl in her mother’s arms reached
both hands for her father. Ailean took her from her mother. He
didn’t notice his younger son, Niall, who stood at Kutahyah’s side,
reaching for him, too. Ailean stroked the girl’s dark brown hair
and kissed the little forehead while Niall watched, one of his
hands still extended in a mute request for his father’s attention,
the other holding onto his mother’s clothing.

Ailean gave his daughter another kiss and
said, “Brìghde, go back to your mother.” He gave the girl to
Kutahyah and went to the horse.

As he took the reins from Aodh, he squared
his shoulders and raised his head. He was a man who had survived
the unsurvivable, who had endured the unendurable. A man who knew
he could take what life dealt him and stand unbowed,
unconquered.

His eyes scanned the crops growing in the
fields he’d cleared, and he surveyed the cattle grazing on the
other side of the stream. He looked at the barn he’d built and cast
a loving glance at his home, where he lived a satisfying life with
a woman he loved. He took a deep breath and sighed contentedly.

Yes, Da, you were right about some things.
The view from the mountaintop is beautiful, but I don’t live there.
I live my life here in the glen. But, Da, sometimes, once you get
through the bad places, you find the glen can be lovely, too.

Ailean looked down at the son who bore his
father’s name. “Like to ride to the barn?”

“Yes!” Aodh said, with a wide grin, his dark
eyes sparkling.

Ailean lifted Aodh and set him on the saddle,
gave the horse a pat on the neck. “Come along, old fellow.”

And he led the horse to the barn while Niall
watched from the open door.

THE END

A bonus preview of
Deep in the Valley, A
MacLachlainn Saga, Book Two: Niall
is placed after the
Acknowledgements section. Don’t miss it!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My friend, Jim Walters, owner of The
Caledonian Kitchen, who is the “Laird o’ th’ Haggis,” often
mentioned the experience of his Highland ancestor who had been sold
as a slave to a plantation near Savannah, Georgia. His comments
intrigued me, because I’d never heard of the enslavement of the
Celtic people of Scotland and Ireland. I also had Scottish
ancestors, and “Bro Jim’s” comments spurred me to study and learn
more about Scotland and its people.

What I learned surprised me. And the more I
learned, the more convinced I became that someone should write a
story about the ordinary people of the Highlands and some of the
tragic things they suffered. The Rising of 1745, in particular,
captured my imagination when I read John Prebble's
Culloden
.
I set out to learn all I could, and there are sources of
information I wish to acknowledge which provided me with a
rudimentary understanding about that place and time (and I admit
that my understanding is possibly flawed, but that is due to my own
limitations, not to the accuracy nor completeness of the
information from which I gleaned some knowledge).