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on the floor to the door.
    Hurriedly, Kate scrambled to collect their possessions. They didn’t have much, only a few bits of ribbon, her mother’s hairbrush, and a candlestick to evoke the cherished memories of their former life. By the time she had finished tying the bundle and hurried out of the almshouse, Cameron had finished tucking his fine cloak about her father’s feeble form.
    “Are ye ready, Kate?” Cameron looked down upon her with unreadable dark eyes.
    Clutching her precious bundle close, she nodded, and giving the almshouse a long, last look, straightened her shoulders and marched up the street with Cameron pushing her father closely behind.
    The journey back to Maura’s cottage was a silent one, each comfortable with their own thoughts. Maura’s stone cottage looked inviting, even in the moonlight. Several fruit trees flowered on one side of the tiny stone building, while an herb bed graced the other. It was untended, still tangled with the dry brown weeds of the year before, but Kate already had plans to make it ready for planting on the morrow. Soon, the hedges, trees and the brown herb bed would be bursting with life. She felt it was a sign. Perhaps she and her father were finally emerging from their ill luck and on the verge of a new life.
    The cottage was dark, signaling Maura had not yet returned. Strangely relieved, Kate lifted the latch and pushed the door open as Cameron once again gathered her father in his strong arms and carried him over the threshold.
    Kate proudly led them to the back room. A small window allowed enough moonlight to filter through to show the straw pallet on the floor, a three-legged stool, several woolen blankets, and a small hearth. Aye, the room was tiny, but it was free of fleas and rats, and smelled only of spring, not the rank odor of the almshouse.
    As Cameron gently set her father down on the pallet, Kate slipped into the main room for coals and peat, returning to coax a fire on the hearth. In moments, meager flames licked the peat, and Kate sat back on her heels with a contented sigh.
    “Ye did well, my wee one.” Her father laughed weakly from behind her.
    Turning, she found him comfortably settled, clutching the top of the woolen blankets with his swollen knuckles. Sweat rolled off his brow. He was still clearly unwell.
    “Ye shouldna worry so, lassie.” He nodded his head in her direction. “I may be blind, but I can still see ye worry too much, my wee bairn.”
    Kate’s lips split into a smile. Her father knew her well.
    “And, Cameron, bless ye, lad.” Her father dipped his chin to where Cameron leaned against the wall. “Ye’ve been a godsend this day. How can I ever repay ye, lad?”
    “I’ve done naught that requires it, sir.” Cameron shook his head.
    As they began to murmur, Kate returned to Maura’s room to borrow a kettle and a handful of oats. She’d repay her in the morning, but her father needed to eat now. Placing the kettle on the hook over the fire, she bent to kiss him on the forehead.
    “I’ve the cart to return to the Fletcher now, and I’m not of the mind to make enemies with the man’s wife,” she said. “By the time I return, the gruel will be ready.”
    “I’ll take the cart back for ye, lass, if ye lead the way.” Cameron stepped forward. With a slight bow to her father, he bid his farewell. “’Twas an honor to meet ye, sir.”
    And then she stood, once again, in the moonlight as Cameron lifted the cart. For a moment, she was oddly shy. But only for a moment. She was not the retiring sort, and the air of intrigue about the man was fascinating. As they set off to the Fletcher’s, she shook her head. “In faith, Cameron, but I wouldna be pleased to find ye dangling from a tree, ye’ve been far too kind this day.”
    His lips twitched in amusement. “I swear I’ll not allow myself to be hanged.”
    “There’s honest work to be had in Stirling,” she continued. “And even more in Edinburgh.”
    “I’m