Andrew sniffed the sleeve of his shirt and grimaced. "Aye, I do."
"Go ask the lady we met at the door when we arrived here. She will help."
The moment the boy was gone, Gybbon frowned down at Mora. Her eyes were already closing and he guessed the small burst of strength she had found when hearing Andrew's voice had faded away. There would have to be some time spent for her to get a lot of rest until she could hold on to that strength before they headed to Gormfuerach. He reached out to brush strands of hair from her face.
"Thank ye so verra much," she said softly. "I feared he was lost."
"I think it may have been close. Maggie had been packing to leave. She made Andrew stay out by the wagon so that the men wouldnae see him when they came. Maggie's only mistake was thinking they were done after they had knocked her around some. They set fire to her house as they left. Andrew saw her come out but then run back inside. When he saw the ceilings fall he was so certain she had died, he ran to his tree. The mon named Iain came by then and saw her stagger out, coughing and with her skirts alight. He threw some water on her skirts, she looked about but didnae see any sign of Andrew, so she left."
"And then ye went to his safe place. His wee keep as my mother called it." She smiled faintly.
"We did. Sigimor was impressed. Took some coaxing to get him out, but talk of his soldier, you, and Freya did the trick. Get some rest, Mora. And, aye, before ye ask, ye are still too weak to move about much or travel, but that will pass quickly. As soon as Jolene believes ye are weel enough, we will go to Gormfeurach."
She nodded, only the faintest of movements, but he knew she was still more asleep than awake. He bent down and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for a minute and savoring the warm softness of her lips. Then he stood up straight, could not resist running his fingers through her hair once more, and walked away.
Mora opened her eyes enough to watch him leave, then sighed and touched her lips. She had to wonder what a proper kiss, one where they were both awake, would feel like. Considering how the small kisses he gave her made her heart pound, she was not sure she could survive a proper one.
"How does she fare?" asked Sigimor when Gybbon sat down next to him and poured himself some ale.
"Weak but no fever and clear of thought. There isnae any way to tell how long it will take her to be able to move about freely enough for even a ride in a wagon. Especially for the two, mayhap e'en three days it will take to get to Gormfeurach."
"But it may give us time to stare down the sheriff and get him to cease sniffing around and find out how he can keep believing in the lies those brothers tell him."
"Mayhap we should take the time to go visit the mon and see just what lies he has believed."
"I dinnae have much say in getting a mon that post for 'tis Ogilvy land, but my opinion is nay ignored."
Gybbon grinned. "Does anyone manage to ignore your opinion on something?"
"My wife."
Gybbon just laughed for Sigimor sounded truly impressed and proud of that fact. He was satisfied with the meager plan. It would be good to be home, to have his brother at his side as he attempted to help Mora. He also wanted to take this trouble away from Sigimor. The man would stand firm for the ones he called friend or family in front of anything, but he had to live here, near the Ogilvy clan. He also had a wife, a son, and two little daughters who needed an army of nurses to keep them out of trouble. There was also the matter of so many of his people being ill. It was going to be better if he took this trouble with him when he left.
It was late the next day before they got a chance to ride back to the village. This time only Sigimor, Gybbon, and Tait went. As they rode past the house with the green door, Morag was out cleaning her thresh stone. She paused, looked at them and smiled, then waved. All three men waved back.
The place that held the jail and the sheriff was impressively tidy but the men standing outside looked sullen. Gybbon wondered if the men the sheriff had hired knew the Ogilvy brothers were spouting lies. They all dismounted, tied up the horses to the post, and went inside.
The first thing one saw upon entering the building was the sheriff. The man sat behind a big, heavy table covered in a rather ornate cloth. Even though where it was set made it clear to anyone coming in that this man was the leader, Gybbon thought such a huge wooden table made the man look small. It was more suited to a man like Sigimor.
"What can I do for ye, sirs?" the man asked, but did not get up.
"We want to ken what the Ogilvy brothers have told ye," said Sigimor.
"Ye mean about that lass with the cat?"
"Aye, about the lass. What have ye been told that has ye hunting her?"
"She murdered Old William, who was caring for our laird, and she stole Robert's sword to do it. We are wondering if it was she who also killed David and his wife."
Sigimor laughed. "And ye considered that a possibility? Fool. The lad is using ye to get what they want. They want the estate back to what it was in their grandfather's time and will kill anyone who stands in the way."
"David was their uncle," the man said angrily, and shifted around in his chair.
Sigimor sighed and stood up straight, using his size as an unspoken threat. "And a mon as honorable as any I have met." He walked up to the sheriff, yanked him and his chair back, reached under the desk, and yanked out a buxom blond Gybbon had once seen in the tavern. "Go on, lass, and I would suggest ye keep as far away from those Ogilvy boys and this mon as ye can until this mess is all over." He looked back at the sheriff as the girl ran out of the office. "Now, mayhap, we will have your full attention." He glanced at Gybbon as he walked back to stand beside him. "That was the cause of those sullen looks outside, I am thinking."
"Aye, he wasnae sharing." Gybbon was fighting back the urge to laugh heartily.
"Look, the laird … " sputtered the sheriff, but he shut up when Sigimor raised his hand.
"The laird is dying. Have ye even looked into why? He gets worse every day. Old William was killed because he accused Robert of poisoning the laird and, surprise, Old William then dies by Robert's sword. Now, Old William was a tall, burly mon, but the lass, Mora Ogilvy, is near as small as my wife. Ye truly think she could swing a blade that size and kill a man? And what crime have they said the seven-year-old lad is guilty of that warrants trying to kill him? Nay, ye are nay thinking on any of this."
"I have been thinking on it. Ye look for who gains. 'Tis the lass."
"'Tis Robert as the firstborn. His da dies, he becomes laird. That family of David's ends, then that land comes back to the laird."
"She still has twa brothers."
"Does she?" asked Gybbon. "They havenae sent any word and nay come home. I suspect David came and spoke to ye of it." Gybbon nodded when a faint color hit the man's cheeks. "Didnae help him either, did ye? Come on, Sigimor. There is nay point to this visit."
"True. I liked David," Sigimor said in a low, quiet voice that even made Gybbon feel like shivering. "Since ye seem incapable of doing the job, I may start looking for his and his poor wife's killers myself."
Gybbon followed Sigimor outside. "Are ye sure threatening the mon was a good idea?"
"He would have talked us to death trying to convince us the lies he was told are fact and then I would have had to kill him. Aye, a nice threat was better for the moment. At the next meeting of the lairds round here I will make my opinion of the fool clear. He is getting a nice sum from us all to bumble around and be bribed by pretty little blonds under the desk."
Gybbon released the hearty laugh he had held back while with the sheriff. He and Sigimor mounted their horses and slowly rode out of the village. He noticed Morag still by her front door, but she was talking to Iain and another man. It was possible Morag could get people in the village thinking more on what was happening. Gybbon wished her luck if that was what she was trying to do.
"How are the people of Dubheidland doing? Still sick?" he asked.
"Improving slowly. As ye said, 'tis that time of year."
"Good. It will pass and everyone will be back in fighting shape. But we cannae ask it of them now. My brother's men are now all trained, weel and hard, and they are eager to practice their skills."
"Ye think those fools will hunt her down there?"
"Robert is killing his own father with poison, he killed two innocent, well-liked, generous people and one of them his own uncle, and maybe e'en two brothers who had ne'er done him any wrong that we have heard of. So, aye, I think he will see her hunted to the edges of the earth."
"Ye are probably right. That poor laddie, too."