Legacy of Luck by Christy Nicholas

Author:Christy Nicholas [Nicholas, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Published: 2017-01-10T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The day began sodden, and the wagons were stuck in muddy ruts. The rain hadn’t been heavy but unrelenting. It was tempting to stop, but Donald refused.

Lochlann worried about Katie. She had lost all her spark. She sat in forlorn despair like a rag doll on the bench. He at least managed to convince Donald not to bind her again, and she had rewarded that trust with good behavior. She acted civil to him now, rather than insulting, another small victory. His new wife could be quite sweet when she put her mind to it.

He had seethed in frustrated, simmering anger when his brother hit his wife. Lochlann wished he could stop it, but Donald had always outmatched him. His older brother always triumphed over him in sport or sword practice. Indeed, Donald always beat older cousins as they were growing up. No quarter given for the weak.

Their father encouraged this by rewarding Donald for his prowess. Though Calum MacCrimmon worked as a piper to the MacLeod, he was no wandering minstrel. The Great Highland bagpipe, or an phìob mhòr, was a war instrument, and the piper an honored member of the army. The piper led the troops to battle, sustained them through the fight with his martial music, and then marched them home from a victory. It took courage to stand on a chaotic battlefield with no sword or musket, though no Scot would dare to strike a piper in battle.

Lochlann could coax a tune from the massive, unwieldy instrument, but Donald had a true talent for the thing. He even composed his own music, a skill which fascinated and baffled his younger brother. Donald had been the golden child, and Lochlann would ever live in his shadow.

What would his father make of his new bride? He might like her fire and temper, as he certainly appreciated it in the mares. Or would this be a quality he didn’t appreciate in women?

His own mother had died of a fever when he had turned twelve. He remembered her in vague flashes, hair like spun gold in the sunlight, and a sweet, sad smile. Since his mother’s death, his father had grown farther from him in both deed and sympathy. Their arguments had increased in strength and frequency until the last one, about Lochlann settling down with a wife and a family and abandoning his mother’s Traveling ways.

Donald and Lochlann had left the previous August to travel with several mares, a gelding, and the magnificent stallion named Smúid. Named for the silver mist which hugged the mountains on Skye, the horse had been the prize of the year. He would fetch a fantastic price among the Irish, so they had taken a boat to the island, and wintered with several groups of Travelers.

The spring horse fair was always the best place to find a buyer for such a unique creature. And find a buyer they had—but they had come away with a bride rather than coin.

Interrupted from his reverie by his brother coughing, Lochlann decided Donald hadn’t been doing well most of the day.

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