The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (21 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Right, listen up please,” The Duke said, briskly hauf running doon the stairs, looking aboot tae make sure that anywan who wisnae supposed tae be there wisnae lurking aboot in the shadows.

  “All present and correct, m’lord,” Riddrie said, as Isobel the cook, Nicol the auld valet, Bridie the scullery maid, Jeannie the parlour maid, Morag the chamber maid, John Sellar and his two boys, Cameron and George, stood lined up in front ae the vestibule at the front door. 

Bridie automatically held oot her hauns, fingernail sides up, ready fur inspection, before Isobel, the cook, swatted them doon.

  “Are you quite sure she’s not going to come waltzing through the door at any moment, Riddrie?” The Duke asked, peering o’er the shoulders ae those lined up at the glass doors behind them.

  “I believe Lady Saba has gone for a walk in Balblair Wood with the wench...er, her maid, m’lord.”

  “Right, you are all my most trusted servants.  It is you that I depend on to ensure my stay here is one of happiness and joy and that my needs are always fulfilled,” The Duke started saying before Bridie broke his concentration by raising her hauns and clapping them enthusiastically, only tae get them swatted down by Isobel the cook, again.

  “Yes, quite,” The Duke said, before continuing.  “As you are aware, it is my darling daughter’s fifteenth birthday on Monday the seventh of July.  Despite her resistance being well-known within the house for any sort of celebration to be organised by myself, her loving and caring father, she is indeed going to receive a special celebratory surprise on that wonderful day.”

  This time aw the staff hid a smile oan their faces and wur allowed tae clap their hauns wae joy and appreciation.

  “Oh, bless you, m’lord,” Isobel exclaimed, clasping her hauns tae her neck in joy.

  “Now, you…and only you…will be entrusted with the details of the forthcoming event.  Under no circumstances must my darling sweet daughter…God bless her…find out anything about this surprise.  And on that happy note, I am delighted to inform you that the Duchess Bea will be arriving in Inverness on the overnight sleeper train this coming Monday…the very morning of my sweet daughter’s birthday,” The Duke exclaimed, as aw the smiles froze oan the faces ae those gathered.  “The Duchess will join us to celebrate the event, before whisking Lady Saba off, after a few days rest, to Spain to meet The Duchess’s fiancé’s family in Madrid.”

Chapter Twenty Eight

  Paul stood in amongst the trees, trying tae make up his mind whether tae go across and speak tae Morven.  He felt a bit guilty aboot the way he’d spoken tae her when she’d turned up wae The Gardener’s Daughter.  He’d been clocking her fur aboot ten minutes when the decision wis made fur him.  He heard a loud bang coming fae behind him in the distance. He’d lived long enough in the strath tae recognise the sound ae a shotgun being discharged.  He noticed that Morven wis looking behind and beyond where he wis staunin, in the direction ae where the bang hid come fae.  Paul waited fur another bang.  He couldnae remember ever hearing a single shot in the time he’d been in the strath.  When nae follow-up came, he felt a sinking feeling in that stomach ae his.  He took another quick glance o’er towards Morven, before turning and taking flight back through the trees, in the direction he’d come fae ten
minutes earlier.  He came across Whitey oan the road at the entrance tae the croft.  Her face looked ashen and she wis wringing her hauns thegither.

  “It’s Innes.  I’m worried about him.  He left here about an hour ago.  I heard a shotgun being discharged.  Tim’s back, dripping blood all over the barn.  He won’t let me near him.”

  “Aye, Ah heard it.  Ye’ve nae idea where he went, Whitey?”

  “No, I just saw him disappear up at the top field with Tim. He never tells me where he’s off to…the old fool,” Whitey croaked, anguish in her voice.

  “Right, Ah’ll go and hiv a wee gander tae see where he is.  Don’t ye worry, Whitey…everything will be okay.  Ah’ll find oot where he is,” Paul promised, taking a run and leaping o’er the wall at the other side ae the road fae the croft entrance.

  Paul heided up tae the tap ae the field and scanned the area. If Innes wis oot snaring, he widnae be oot in the open.  Paul knew he’d hiv tae make the right choice ae whit direction tae go in, as wance he wis oan his way, time wasted could be a matter ae life or death. He shot aff o’er tae the left towards Rhelonie Wood.  He decided at this stage no tae shout oot Innes’s name.  If Paul and Morven hid heard the shot fae Balblair Wood, then there wis a good chance somewan else wid’ve heard it and gone tae investigate.  He didnae want tae bump intae the Sellars.  When he manage tae get across the open ground safely, withoot anywan shouting or the sound ae dugs being let aff the leash, he heided doon tae the left, nearer tae the road, in order tae work his way up the hill alang the tree line.  He wis sure if Innes hid been in Rhelonie Wood, then Tim wid’ve heided back tae the croft using the tree line, rather than risking whit he’d jist done by dashing across open ground.  Innes wid’ve hid him well trained no tae dae something as stupid as that.  He could see the rabbit paths zigzagging in and oot ae the trees.  He stoapped tae listen.  Other than the sound ae a cuckoo letting rip somewhere in the distance, there wisnae a sound, except the gentle rustling ae the leaves oan the trees tae his left.  He moved aff, gathering up speed and before too long, he spotted whit he wis hoping tae find.  There wis three tiny draps ae blood oan the leaves ae a fern that hid been stretching oot and upwards fae the cover ae the dense wood.  He bent doon, heart thumping like a drum, tae hiv a wee gander when he noticed some mair droplets aboot eight feet further oan.  It wis clear that this wis the way Tim hid heided oan his way hame.  He reached the end ae the tree line before the hill ran up oan tae Cnoc a’ Bhaid-daraich proper.  He turned left, still following the tree line and slowed doon tae a walking pace, keeping his eyes glued tae the rabbit paths in front ae him.

  “Innes! Innes!  It’s me, it’s Paul,” he shouted as quietly as he could, stoapping and listening.

  Silence.

  Further oan he came across a couple ae snares that hid deid rabbits in them.  Paul knew straight away that they wur Innes’s.  His wur always a lot tidier and looked mair professional than Paul’s amateurish wans.  He looked aboot.  He wis sure he hidnae missed anything oan the way up the hill.  Supressing the dread and panic he felt in his chest and brain, he moved oan.  Aboot thirty feet further alang, he spotted a single speck ae blood oan a piece ae grass that wis bent o’er, blowing gently in the breeze.  It wis back aff the rabbit path, under a tree.  When Paul bent doon tae inspect it, he spotted the bloody weave ae where something hid parted the grass earlier through the canopy.  Doubled up, he nipped intae the wood.  He took his time, following the fresh path that either Tim or Innes hid created as they’d made their way through the long, lush grass.  He also came across a lot mair blood.  He wisnae a tracker or anything, bit it looked tae him as if Tim must’ve sat or lain doon tae lick his wounds there.  There wis a wee flattened circle ae grass wae a pool ae blood the size ae a beer mat.  Paul quickened his pace, following the fresh path until he came upon a wee opening in the trees, nae bigger than the size ae the croft hoose’s living room.  Paul’s brain instantly tried tae picture whit must’ve happened.  Tae his right, there wis a ragged circle where the blast hid came oot through the foliage ae fern.  Tae his left, there wis a bigger gap where Innes hid fallen and disappeared intae the undergrowth.  He could see wan ae Innes’s legs, wae his size ten boot oan the end ae it, sticking up and oot ae the ferns.

  “Innes, Innes, ur ye okay?” Paul shouted, panic in his voice, as he dashed forward, no relishing the responsibility ae finding Innes deid and hivving tae go back and tell Whitey.

  “Is that you, laddie?” Innes croaked weakly.

  Innes wis lying oan his back, smack in the middle ae a gorse bush.  His face wis the colour ae peat ash and his bibbed overalls wur covered in blood fae his waist, aw the way doon his right leg.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Innes.  Tell me ye’re okay,” Paul cried oot, pushing the hanging prickly strands ae the bush oot ae the way tae get better access tae him.

  “I’m fine, laddie.  Just give me a hand to get out of this bush.  I think I’m stuck,” he said, haudin oot his blood-covered hauns tae Paul.

  Paul quickly looked aboot.  He hidnae hid time tae take gloves wae him.  He’d need tae take Innes oot ae the bush the same route as he’d fallen intae it backwards.

  “Ah’m sorry, Innes.  Ah don’t think there’s any other way tae dae this,” Paul said, staunin up.

  Paul took a few steps backwards and grabbed Innes by the boot ae his left leg…the wan that he’d clocked sticking out ae the bush when he’d first spotted him.  Innes let oot a painful groan as Paul dislodged him fae the bush and dragged him oot intae the open patch ae ground.

  “Did Tim make it home?” Innes asked.

  “Aye,” Paul replied, wondering whit the fuck tae dae next, his mind gaun like the clappers.

  “Is he alright?”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Innes.  He made it hame!  Whit happened?  Where ur ye hurt?”

  “I think it’s my arse, or on my right cheek to be precise,” Innes said, matter-ae-factly, before letting oot a painful groan.

  Paul looked doon.  Innes wis as white as a ghost noo.  It wis obvious he’d lost quite a bit ae blood.  Paul wondered whether he should heid back tae the croft tae get help, which he reckoned wis aboot two miles away, or try and get Innes back hame himsel.  Remembering that the Landy at the croft wis knackered and because Innes looked so bad, Paul decided he’d try
tae carry him back.

  “Where’s my bag?  Get my bag, Paul.”

  “Furget yer bloody bag. Innes.  We need tae get ye back tae the croft.  Ah’ll come back later fur it.”

  “No, I need the bag now.  There’s a poachers’ retreat in there.”

  “Whit?  The wan that goat ye?” Paul asked, scanning the ground and seeing the bag lying in amongst the ferns four feet away.

  “No, that was another one.  I dismantled the one that’s in the bag back across there,” he said, nodding towards a wee path in front ae him.

  “Fur Christ’s sake!  So there wis two ae them?”

  “Aye, laddie.  I’m not sure where the second one was planted but we need to take that one with us as well.  We can’t leave it here for the Sellars to use on some other poor bugger.”

  “Right, hing oan,” Paul said, walking o’er and picking up Innes’s sack.

  He could feel the brick-like weight at the bottom ae it.  He then gingerly walked across tae the space in the foliage that hid the roond ragged blast in it and looked through.  He clocked the wooden block wae the brass snub-nosed barrel sitting oan the ground, wae the expended cartridge still sitting in it.  He moved through the undergrowth.  He tried lifting it, but it widnae budge.  He sat doon oan the ground, sideways oan tae it and started tae kick it wae the heel ae his boot.  Efter aboot hauf a dozen solid kicks, it moved.  He goat up and put his fingers under the base oan each side ae it and heaved.  It came straight up.  At either end, it hid two metal spikes through the holes that wur drilled in the wood, each spike aboot eighteen inches long tae fasten it solidly tae the ground.  He turned and ran through the undergrowth tae Innes who wis still looking pasty white, and placed the trap in Innes’s bag.

  “Right, Innes, here’s whit we’re gonnae dae.  Noo, listen up…Ah don’t hiv time tae argue wae ye, so don’t start gieing me any grief…okay?”

  “Whatever you say, laddie,” Innes panted, clearly in pain.

   “Right, I’m gonnae lift ye up and oan tae yer feet.  Make sure aw yer weight goes oan yer good leg. If ye want tae take that sack ae yers wae ye, ye’ll need tae make sure it’s slung o’er yer ain back.  Wance oan yer feet, Ah’m gonnae lift ye up oan tae ma back and we’ll get gaun.  Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye.”

   It wis awful trying tae get Innes up oan tae they feet ae his withoot hurting him.  As soon as Paul took him by the hauns and heaved him up, Innes let oot a whining, painful groan.

  “Ur ye sure yer awright, Innes?” Paul asked him.

  Innes jist stood there, fighting the pain wae his eyes shut tight, as he shook like a wobbly jelly. 

“Right, ye’ll need tae put baith yer hauns roond ma neck, bit before ye dae, make sure yer sack is o’er yer back and ye’re haudin it.  Hiv ye goat that?” Paul asked him, turning his back oan him.

  “Aye, laddie.”

  “Right, here we go then,” Paul said, feeling Innes’s fore-erms being wrapped roond his neck.

  He bent forward, taking the weight and wrapped his hauns roond the tap ae the back ae Innes’s thighs, before moving aff.  Paul wis trying no tae panic.  He wisnae convinced that he’d be able tae get Innes back alive.  He wis scared tae ask Innes tae drap his overalls tae let him hiv a look, in case he hid a hole right through him.  The sack wae the two poachers’ retreats in it toppled forward and landed at Paul’s feet.  Efter struggling tae pick it up, he managed tae pass it back tae Innes.  Paul hid only moved aboot ten feet in the direction he’d come fae, when Innes decided tae offer him some advice.

  “Would you not be quicker going back the way I came, laddie?” 

  “Innes, Ah don’t want tae be cheeky, bit shut the fuck up.  We’ll go the way Ah came.  That way, Ah won’t get masel shot as well and hiv tae explain tae Whitey how Ah wis as stupid as yersel.  Hiv ye goat that?”

  Paul followed the tree line.  The ground wis firm due tae years ae rabbits’ feet trotting alang it.  He felt Innes tense when he passed his snares.

  “Innes, don’t even think aboot it.  Ah’m in a rhythm here and Ah’m no bloody stoapping jist tae get ye yer snares back.  Ah’ll come back and get them later,” Paul warned, getting
nae response, bit convinced that he heard Innes let oot a wee chuckle.

  He wis relieved tae be able tae turn right at the corner ae the tree line.  It wis aw doonhill fae there.  Paul looked across tae his left.  The journey wid’ve been a good bit shorter if he could’ve gone across diagonally, bit the ground wis too rough and he wis scared ae losing his footing.  He wis also scared that he widnae hiv been able tae get back up if he ended up oan the ground wae Innes oan tap ae him.  He could hear Innes wheezing behind his ear and letting oot a painful groan every time Paul hid tae hitch him further back up his back when he felt him slipping.  He asked Innes if he wis okay every hunner yards or so and demand a grunt back if Innes didnae answer.  Paul wis aiming fur the road.  It seemed tae be getting further away fae him every stagger he took, bit eventually he made it.

  “Right, Innes, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae drap ye oan the other side ae the dyke.  We’re nearly there, so hing oan in there.  Okay?” Paul wheezed, as he gently dumped Innes o’er the dyke oan tae the saft long grass.

  Paul winced when Innes let oot a painful yelp.  Wance the weight ae Innes wis aff his back, Paul could hardly staun up straight wae the pain in his back.

  “Right, the same again, Innes, and this time we’ll dae it in wan go,” Paul said, jumping o’er the dyke and repeating the lifting procedure perfected up in the wood.   

  He clocked Whitey when he staggered roond the bend at the auld schoolhouse, still staunin at the croft entrance, wringing her hauns.  When she saw them, she came running like the clappers.

  “Innes, Innes…oh my God, what have ye done to yourself?” she screamed, trying tae see where the damage wis.

  “Whitey, please, leave him alane the noo.  If Ah stoap, Ah won’t be able tae take another step,” Paul grunted and groaned, as he picked up speed at the sight ae the entrance tae the croft.

  “Put him on here, Paul,” Whitey shouted, clearing the dinner table by swishing her erm across it, sending everything flying oan tae the flair.