Angus looked up to see his uncle Malcolm lying on his belly, his hand extended. He wore a set of bagpipes on his back.
All Angus could do was stand there, his feet on the side of the steep, muddy bank, his hands holding on to a tree root, and stare, his mouth open in astonishment. “Am I dead?” he at last said.
In a sweet tone, Malcolm said, “Aye, you are, lad, and I’m here to welcome you into Heaven. Take my hand so we can go meet the Lord.”
Angus’s eyes were wide but then he heard a guffaw that he’d heard since he was a child. Turning, he saw Shamus standing there, laughing at him in a derogatory way.
Angus looked back at Malcolm. “Now I know you’re lying. Shamus will never be allowed into Heaven.” Taking Malcolm’s hand, he hauled himself upward. When he was again standing, dripping wet, he still could do nothing but stare at Malcolm and Shamus. “What... ?” he began. “How... ?”
“We came to visit you,” Malcolm said.
“And we ended up saving your life!” Shamus said, smirking. “If it hadn’t been for us, you’d be dead now. Why couldn’t you get away from them? There were only six of them.”
“And it took the both of you to get rid of them?” Angus asked, still in shock at seeing them.
“Naw,” Malcolm said. “I went after you, and Tam went up to the cave where you hid those others. Shamus dealt with the Frenchmen. A Scot’s worth more than a dozen Frenchmen.”
Shamus was looking at Angus with a half grin that said it was clear to see who the superior man was.
“Tam is here?” Angus asked.
“Aye. Seeing to the others,” Malcolm said. “Do you give us no greeting?”
“Malcolm, I...” Angus began, but then stopped. “I don’t know how...”
“Ah, lad,” Malcolm said, embarrassed. “I didna mean to make you weep. A drink of good whiskey will do to thank me.”
“I’ll buy you a bottle,” Angus said as he put his arm around Malcolm’s broad shoulders and held on. All that had happened since he’d last seen the man went through his head in a series of visions. It seemed so long ago, and he’d been such an innocent back then. He remembered trying to save Edilean from a forced marriage and how he’d ended up on a ship with her and heading to another country. And he’d fallen in love with her so hard that every day without her was an ache inside him. He saw her face every hour of every day, longed for her, wondered where she was and what she was doing.
“Lad!” Malcolm said. “We thought you’d be glad to see us.”
“I am,” Angus said, but his voice caught in his throat, and he could say no more.
“Where’s the gi
rl?” Shamus asked.
“What girl?”
“The one you ran off with. The one you stole the gold from.”
“I did not—” Angus began but Malcolm cut him off.
“Could you boys wait a while before fighting? I think we need to get to the others, and Tam wants to see you.”
“Aye, Tam,” Angus said, grinning, his arm still so tight around Malcolm’s strong shoulders that he was causing the man pain, but Malcolm didn’t complain. “You got them all?” Angus asked, looking at Shamus as though he doubted that he really could take down six men.
“Hmph!” Shamus snorted. “Didn’t take me but a minute. They were standing in plain sight. Anyone could have seen them.”
Angus couldn’t help grinning at Shamus’s arrogance. He looked at Malcolm. “So what do you think of this new country?”
“Too hot,” Malcolm said. “Give me the coolness of Scotland. And their whiskey is bad.”
“And they think we’re English,” Shamus said, as though that was the final insult.
“With your accent?” Angus said happily. “Can they understand you?”
“Not many can,” Shamus said, and for a moment his eyes told Angus that he was glad to see him.