P&P FF

"Captain's Concession: A Bennet's Destiny"

Previously:

Let's enjoy our time before you have to go to Bristol and let's just hope Michael's family is havin' more luck than we did with that land."

Michael and Wendi's Own Run

Ch. 26

Winter had passed with its fair share of hassles and then some. Now, twilight hours had hit Michael's property, and cloaked itself in soft colors around the place while whispering to anyone passing by. The last rays of the sun cast their glow over the land where Michael and Wendi called home. They had been working tirelessly, the fruits of their labor evident in the neat rows of crops that lined the large expanse of land around them.

"I do not understand all de troubles we have had since takin' over this property from de Pedersens." Wendi shook her head as she worked along side her husband. "McBean and his kin treatin' Emil and his family horrible was wrong, I get it cause his father was Dutch and they have always held it against him for marryin' de woman his father wanted. Ye would think though Emil's problems would not have lingered upon us."

"I have a tendenc' ta agree. Our small barn burnin' down would have been worse had our hay been stored in it. Our cattle doin' just fine until we move them into these lower pastures. I cannot pin it on de McBean family. Though it feels like it. Been this way ever since we moved here."

"That's what I meant by what I said."

As they gathered their tools, preparing to call it quits after a long day of hard work, Michael's eyes caught a movement at the edge of the forest. "Wendi, do you see that? There's someone there."

Wendi followed his gaze, her hands instinctively clenching. "I see them. McBean's men, no doubt. Why can't they just leave us be? It's not like either one of us hails from anywhere but de highlands. What ought does that man have against us?"

Michael shook his head, a mix of anger and concern etched on his face. "I don't know, but I never did believe what he claimed about Emil and Mary. It's why de insistence, we be prepared for trouble ourselves. Let's grab de bags. My instincts say there's no gettin' back ta de house." It was the only time in their marriage Michael was finding it a blessing Wendi was barren.

They hurried to a modest stone cottage not normally in use, a sense of urgency growing inside them with each step. Inside, they each grabbed a large, pre-packed bag—filled with essentials Wendi had packed just a few weeks ago when things had begun to heat up. Food, clothing, a bit of money, and a few precious keepsakes were thrown in.

"Let's go, through de back," Michael whispered, leading Wendi out of the cottage and into the cover of the encroaching night.

They made their way down the hill, the sounds of their pursuers growing louder. The men were not far behind, their intentions did not have to be deciphered. Crumb, even an imbecile could have figured that one out…without any aid from an outside source.

"We need ta split up," Michael said, his voice barely above a breath. "It'll be harder for them to track us, besides, I am pretty sure I recognized one of those shadows. And, if I am correct, that man cannot picture a husband allowing his 'possession' out of his sight. It will higher our odds of you getting out of this alive."

Wendi's eyes were wide, but she nodded, understanding the grim logic. "Meet at de old mill? The one even McBean's men are afraid of?"

"Aye, at dawn," he confirmed, squeezing her hand one last time before they parted ways, disappearing into the labyrinth of hills and valleys that had been their sanctuary.

Wendi heard dogs barking and knew her best chance was to cross a river to lose her scent. Plus, her husband was correct; if Ewan was in that group, that meant the idiot would think Wendi would refuse to let her feet touch a creek famous for being impure.

Voices that had been growing louder faded once Michael's wife crossed the creek and ventured further down her chosen path. She weaved in and out of trees, crossed through any creeks, unable to shake the feeling that even if McBean's men lost her and Michael's tracks, any danger for them was not over.

Danger was very hot on Michael's heels as he raced over fallen logs, branches, and even a few broken wagon wheels. The poor man was not getting the breaks of waterways his wife had gotten. A few bullets almost found him, but, praise be, none hit his skin, and a river finally appeared.

"Praise be, ye be not too deep." Michael was able to race in and out of it long enough for the dogs not only to lose his scent but to get turned around before doubling back himself and finding his way to the old mill.

Neither one of the couple paid attention to the tapestry of untamed beauty around them. Roling hills, lochs which could have been seen - had they gone a a few more miles. Rugged landscapes were not to be admired at this particular point of time. And if anyone had wanted history lessons on ancient volcanoes, famous falls, or human conflicts that had already passed- Michael and Wendi would have thought them to be insane.

"Let's hide in this mill until daylight. We'll run again come night, goin' home is no more of choice than when we ran from the pasture." Instantly they hushed when voices raced through the air and through the empty windows. There was no need to risk who might overhear them.

Any light that was shining disappeared under dark clouds. The wind picked up speed and howled. Fortunately, for the Hales, no rain or snow fell. And since one item in their bags happened to be a thick woolen blanket, neither one of them risked exposure to any extreme cold.

"I wish we dared make a fire." Whispered Wendi.

"I dare not." Michael's voice as low as hers. "Get some sleep, we need ta run before daylight hours break over de hills."

The couple slept for a few hours under the winter's sky. The night's sky acting as an unseen curtain keeping them and the mill hidden from rugged landscape they'd just fled. The air remained crisp and cold. It would have bit at their skin had not the stone structure protected their slumbering bodies.

The sky, a deep velvet expanse, on its side of the curtain was a canvas of stars that twinkled like the distant lights a faraway lighthouse on some foreign cliff warning a sailor of danger. The lochs over the far horizon, glassy and still, reflected the heavens above, creating a mirror image that blurs the boundaries between the world and the cosmos. However, any of that reflective scene was ignored and Michael and his wife got some much needed sleep for the energy needed for any run the next day would not be of a small amount.