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golden butter, and
the strong tea. Under Glenis's approving eye she finished every morsel,
including a slice of pudding topped with brandy sauce. She knew it would be
several days before she'd enjoy such a meal again.
    But, God willing, if tonight's raid went as planned, she
and the villagers would have a rich beef stew simmering in their kettles before
the week was out.

     

     

 
    Chapter 3

     
    " 'Tis time to wake, Maddie," Angus Ramsay
whispered, shaking Madeleine's shoulder gently. "The moon is up."
    Awakened so abruptly, Madeleine did not know where she
was for a moment. Gradually the mists of sleep faded from her mind, and reality
took its place. The pungent smell of pine, the soft lowing of cattle, and the
rushing sound of a nearby river further heightened her awareness.
    Remembering suddenly, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
They had made camp here this morning after their successful cattle raid. Now it
was dark and time to move on toward Farraline.
    Madeleine twisted around and groped along the woolen
blanket. She found her black cap and set it atop her head, then stuffed her
thick chestnut braid down the high collar of her jacket. Lastly she scooped a
handful of peat ash from a pouch hanging at her belt and rubbed the soot on her
face and forehead.
    "Are the others awake, Angus?" she asked,
accepting his hand as he helped her to her feet.
    "Aye, we're ready to be off, lass," Angus
replied, nodding to the four men who were already astride their horses. "I
let ye sleep awhile longer," he added, almost apologetically. "Ye
looked so tired when we stopped this morn."
    Madeleine smiled. "That was kind of ye, Angus. I'm
fine now." She swept up her blanket from the moss-covered ground,
ducking the fir branches that had served as a protective bower for her bed. She
walked to her mount and crammed the blanket into the leather saddlebag.
    She stifled a groan as she lifted her foot to the
stirrup and threw a trousered leg over the horse. Her body was stiff and sore
from the long journey, though she would never have admitted it to her kinsmen.
No doubt they were just as uncomfortable. Driving cattle through the mountains
was not an easy task.
    Madeleine waited patiently while Angus mounted his
horse, her eyes quickly growing accustomed to the darkness of the surrounding
forest.
    She noted the burly silhouettes of Kenneth and Allan
Fraser, two russet-haired brothers who had fought at Culloden and had managed
to escape with their lives. They were fugitives who now made their home in a
remote cave on Beinn Bhuidhe, a mountain to the east of Farraline, but they had
chosen to risk capture and accompany her on her raids against the English.
    The Fraser brothers were a tough pair. They were much
more inclined to shooting redcoats than stealing from them, yet they had,
obeyed her command that there would be no needless killing. She hoped she could
continue to hold their thirst for revenge in check. Stealing was one thing, but
cold-blooded murder was another.
    Then there were Ewen Burke and his seventeen-year-old
son, Duncan. They were true clansmen—as was Angus Ramsay—though they did not
bear the Fraser surname. Clan Fraser was made up of many such men not related
by blood, descendants of those who had sworn their allegiance to successive
Lovat chieftains in exchange for a small parcel of rented farmland and the chief's
protection.
    Ewen, Angus, and Duncan had stayed behind last
autumn—along with a small group of tenants from each village—to tend the cattle
herds when the Frasers of Strathherrick had marched to war. Now these three men
rode beside her, taking great pride in regaining a measure of what had been
stolen from their clan.
    Madeleine gathered up the reins, breathing a swift
prayer of thanks for the five men who had so boldly taken up her cause. She
could never have accomplished so much without them.
    "Kenneth, ride ahead and keep watch," she
directed, her voice low. "Until we reach Loch Mhor we'll be traveling