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price. I just need this package delivered. Please, it's important.”
    He tried a kind smile, but Josie knew she'd pushed him as far as she was going to. “Lassie, I appreciate that yer in a spot of trouble here, but this is a ferry, no’ a postal service. I'll be glad to book you passage, but I canno’ be responsible for deliverin’ a package. I'm sorry.”
    “My flight leaves tomorrow,” Josie said, not caring that she was whining. “If I don't take the other ferry to Oban this afternoon, I'll never make it back to Glasgow in time. I can't take the ferry to Glen-muir and get back in time for the ferry to Oban.”
    “That's for certain since the ferry doesn't returnthis way. It goes on to Harris, then all the way to Oban itself. There won't be service from Glenmuir again for three days.”
    “Three days?” Josie wanted to cry. This wasn't supposed to be so difficult. She'd looked at the ferry schedule when she'd arrived and purposely made sure she got here in enough time to send the package off before heading back to the mainland. She'd have done it on her way to Tiree, but Finola had been with her and she hadn't wanted to explain. Now it looked like she was stuck.
    “You could post it from the mainland,” the captain suggested.
    Josie had thought about that, but she really wanted to make sure it got into the right hands. Plus she had no idea to whom she was sending it. She hadn't been able to find out much about Glenmuir other than how to get to it. It was too small to make the travel guides. She'd intended to do some research on it and Winterhaven and the MacNeils after she got here, but Finola had kept her so busy that there hadn't been any time even to look at a map.
    And there was no one else lined up to make the trip over that she could bribe to help her out. She looked to the captain. “You wouldn't happen to know who resides in Winterhaven Castle, would you?”
    The captain laughed. “Haints maybe, no one else.”
    “Haints?”
    “Ghosts.” He chuckled. “Winterhaven hasn't been inhabited for several centuries. Not much more than a pile of rocks now, I believe, except for the tower.”
    “Black's Tower?”
    The captain looked at her. “You know of it then? I'm surprised you didn't know it wasn't more than a ruin. Who would you be wantin’ to send a package to at Winterhaven?”
    “Whatever MacNeil was left in charge of it,” she said, feeling more foolish by the minute.
    The captain removed his hat and rubbed at his bald head before replacing it. “I'm from Stranraer, only just started on the ferry service up here, but the MacNeils have been in these islands since the beginnin’, so I'm sure there's probably one or two left on Glenmuir that could help you.”
    “Thanks.” What was she supposed to do now? Just stick the thing in a box marked “Current MacNeil Chief, Glenmuir, Scotland”?
    She trudged back to her rental car at the other dock. It was easy to spot as it was the only one with a board strapped on top. Everyone else involved in the tournament was staying through the weekend and a part of her wished now she'd booked herself more time here.
    She'd had a great time in Tiree, far better than she'd expected. Finola was almost fifteen years older than she was, but had the energy of an eighteen-year-old. It had been the perfect antidote to the past two months. Josie had even gotten some time in the chilly highland surf during the three-day tournament. She was honestly happy she'd come and wished her dad had been able to come along, too. He'd have liked Finola. She'd hated saying good-bye to her.
    But fun and frolic notwithstanding, she was
not
going home with the damn trunk. She put the box she'd packed it in back in the car and leaned against the closed boot. She didn't see where she had a choice but to mail the thing from the mainland, but she felt responsible for its safety. Just then a delivery truck rumbled up and headed to the Glenmuir ferry. A spurt of hope shot through her. She