The Dundarien Lad
1158 Words
The Dundarien Lad~
Nate Callan
Turniff Drove
Nate managed to get them fed and out of the tavern without anyone throwing a punch. By late afternoon, they had reached the outskirts of the Buchanell estate.
Finn Buchanan and his troop of brothers rode out to join them. After some good-natured bluster about who was in charge, Finn and Nate worked out a shift rotation agreeable to them both. The Buchanan brothers would ride together, of course. One never took a piss without the others. The two Dundarien men would stay with Nate to round out the numbers.
A few days later, they’d settled into the routine well enough.
It was a clear night. Nate and Duncan were circling the herds as they waited for Buchanans to relieve them at midnight.
They were a few days out from Turniff. Nate realized he was looking forward to the market. He could never admit it to anyone, but the wild and rowdy crowds energized him. Drawn by the incomparable exchange of wealth the Ochmoon Meet had become, merchants flocked in from all over Innis, hawking their wares in the splendid chaos. Maybe this time, he would buy a sparkly trinket for Hannah from one of the stalls.
“The auction could break thirty thousand this year, I expect,” he said, mostly because talking helped him stay awake.
“Demand is steady. Prices are decent,” said Duncan. “No need for anyone to winter over a big herd.”
“You sound almost like a real cattleman.”
“Cattleman, beekeeper, and swordsman beyond compare.” Duncan laughed. “Father’s been talking about giving me Medloch since I managed to finish up at Ellard without doing too much additional damage to the Gruder name.”
“And leaving no wee’uns you know of.”
“That was Donal’s weakness.” Duncan’s tone went flat. “It won’t be mine.”
“Sorry,” said Nate, regretting the cheap jab. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“You’re an easy mark, Callan.” Duncan grinned that lopsided grin of his. “But no, none that I know of.”
Two shrill whistles, a pause, and two more signaled the Buchanans were approaching and calling out the change of guard.
Nate reined away from the herds and took his horse to a canter along the shoreline of a sea of shaggy-haired cows, repeating the change-of-guard whistles as he passed. The cadence of hooves falling in behind him said the others were following him to a campsite of his choosing.
High ground in a copse of pines would suit for what remained of the night. Nate slid off his horse and set to unbuckling the saddle. Duncan swung down beside him, with Harry and Edgar riding in a few minutes after them. Rory and Braden rode up while Nate was scavenging for firewood. Duncan dragged a hefty branch into the clearing and took to chopping. Harry piled kindling and hunkered over a sparker.
Soon, a fire blazed in the clearing that would be their camp for the night. Harry skinned a couple of rabbits his arrows had dropped since the last time they slept. Edgar and Braden plucked feathers off pheasants too fat to dodge their pistols that afternoon, and Rory whittled down sticks for a cooking spit. Shaye Royce ambled up to the fire with a sack over his shoulder.
“Caught us some cheese,” he said with a grin. “It put up one hell of a fight.”
Nate leaned back on his elbows as the off-duty guard settled in for the night. His guard. His. Was this how Da felt when he led? When men followed without asking who should lead them? He shrugged it off and noticed they were one too few.
“Where’s the Dundarien lad?”
Shaye rummaged through his sack. “I don’t know. He’s around.”
“This is mine to tell, Shaye.”
The voice behind him sent Nate to his feet in an instant.
“Sweet Mother!” He stalked over as she edged into the firelight. “Damnation. Avalee Buchanan, you damned, addled—”
“Oh, hush. I’ve been riding guard with you since Dundarien.”
Duncan was on his feet and scowling. “You are riding on a drove,” he said, drawing out the words as if it might somehow put her elsewhere. “Are you a muttonhead?”
“No, but I’ve been following a bunch of them around for the past several days.” Ava swatted his hand. “Let go. I’m not going anywhere.”
A wide-brimmed hat covered a face darkened by trail dirt, hiding a blonde braid that disappeared under a high-collared cuirass. The baggy tunic and breeches Nate had grown accustomed to seeing through a haze of dust, or at the dim edge of a campfire, was oversized enough to hide her shape. Damn, she’d even thought to wrap her chest flat.
Nate would wager his father had never had to deal with anyone as downright sneaky as Avalee Buchanan.
“Shaye, get your arse over here,” Nate said, stoking a sudden need to throw a punch.
“And you! You knew she was here.” Duncan turned on Rory, who hadn’t bothered getting up yet.
“Here and holding her own. Doing her fair share,” said Rory. “Shaye and I were keeping an eye on her.”
“You heard her, Duncan,” Shaye warned. “Let go of her arm.”
Nate had enough. “Saddle the horses. You’re taking her back to Buchanell.”
“Don’t you do it, Shaye Royce,” said Ava. “We’re staying right here.”
“No, you aren’t, damn it,” said Nate. “You are going back to Buchanell and staying put until we come back through to get you.”
“If you would stop barking out orders long enough to listen.” Ava wriggled from Duncan’s grip. “You can’t send me back to Buchanell. If you do, Uncle Fergus will…”
“He’ll what?” Duncan shifted from outraged to protective like flipping a card.
Ava sighed. “He’ll know not one single Dundarien guard made it to Turniff this year.”
“If he knew, maybe he’d do something about it,” Nate said quietly.
“Your father needs help, Ava,” said Duncan. “If this doesn’t prove the point, then—”
“He needs his friends! Your fathers! You remember them, I’m sure. The men he loved like brothers who are now too busy to notice he needs them.”
Duncan cut Nate a glance. They’d already agreed as much.
“Please. I cannot let Fergus see him like this,” she said. “His pride wouldn’t survive it.”
“Turniff is no place for a lady,” Nate tried reasoning with her.
“Nate, I am not chasing some stupid adventure. I’m doing this for Papa.”
“Why didn’t you send Captain Royce in your place?” Duncan persisted.
“Because Captain Royce can haul Papa off the floor when he passes out. I cannot!”
Nate’s throat tightened around the shame he felt for her. The campfire crackled in the silence while he considered what to do with her. Damn it, he could not risk taking Ava to Turniff.
“I don’t like it either, Nate,” said Duncan. “But she’s already come this far. Sending her off now, with just Shaye, the two of them riding back alone—”
“Turniff, Duncan. Turniff. Have you lost your mind?”
“Turniff with us. Let her stay. I’ll see she comes to no harm.”
“So will I,” said Shaye. “It’s only for a few more days.”
“Seven of us and only one of her,” said Harry.
“Stop worrying so much,” said Rory. “We take care of our own.”
Chapter 7
- Writer
