Highland Angel by Hannah Howell Read Free Book Online Page B

see that I visit with my aunt Elspeth and cousins Avery and Gilly more so that they might help me learn about this gift.”
    Payton agreed and told him a few tales about the women until he found Sir Bryan. As he handed the boy into Sir Bryan’s care, he studied the man. Callum was yet again brought to mind, there to glimpse in the older man’s coloring and features.
    He left the MacMillans without mentioning the boy. Not only was it safer for now if no one else knew where Callum was, but he needed proof of what he now believed. Payton knew he would not speak of it to anyone except Strong Ian, who could help him look for the proof he wanted. Someone, somewhere had to know who the boy’s mother had been and when and how he had been tossed out to survive on his own. One look at Callum would be proof enough for many, and there was always a MacMillan or two at court, but Payton wanted more. He wanted enough to make Callum believe it, enough so that the boy would be certain just what clan he belonged to. Payton was certain that giving the boy a clan, a name, would help Callum far more than many another thing ever could. Once he had a name, became part of a small but proud and honored clan, Payton knew Callum would gain the pride and strength needed to overcome much of the pain he had suffered.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Kirstie could not believe how easily she had slipped away from Payton’s house. She conceded that, after a week of being so well behaved that none of her family would recognize her, the watch on her had eased considerably. It was nice to think she had been clever, however. There was the chance that the others felt she would not wish to foolishly put herself within reach of a man who wished her dead, but she banished the thought. Thinking of herself as clever and stealthy, even daring, felt a great deal better.
    Tugging idly at her simple, black woolen doublet, Kirstie began to meander through the narrow streets and alleys of the town. She did not look rich enough to attract danger or intimidate anyone, but just prosperous enough to be able to afford a coin or two for a service. Since she had been slowly, painstakingly accumulating money for years, she felt she had enough to start loosening a few tongues. Surely if Roderick could use money to commit his atrocities and buy silence, she could use money to stop him. She had never had the freedom to wander amongst the people of the town, to speak to anyone, anywhere, for as long as she wanted. Now, at last, she had the chance to gather testimony against Roderick, to tell people about him, and to cut off his supply of innocents.
    It took Kirstie five long hours to fully comprehend that she might well be wasting her time and money. Her head ached from banging it hard against indifference and disbelief. Her heart felt shattered from the constant shock and pain of confronting a deeply rooted apathy. She had thought fear silenced the people at first, and for some it might, but far too many simply were not interested. Or struggled not to be because they had too much else to worry about.
    The mon gives the lads a chance at a better life. I willnae hear him spoken ill of .
    I have eleven bairns of me own. I havenae time or strength to worry about others .
    ’ Tis past time someone took those thieving rats off the streets. They are a pestilence .
    Those words and far too many similar ones were branded on her mind. They were the words of the ignorant and the heartless. Worse was the silence of the fearful. To break it required a larger, more fearful threat than Sir Roderick presented, and even if she could think of one, Kirstie doubted anyone would listen and believe it. She could, if she tried very hard, find a few thin excuses for the heartlessness of the men, but not for that of the mothers. Even if they were too hardened and wearied by life, surely they should at least fear for their own bairns? Were they so blind they thought only the unwanted were in danger?
    As she approached the