Page 10 of Love Beyond Words
I stopped and turned toward the voice and pointed at the center of my chest in confusion.
“Do you mean us?”
The man nodded and waved us toward him with his free hand.
“Aye, o’course I do. Laurel is not that common of a name, is it? Get over here so I might introduce myself. Ye willna be needing a car.”
Baffled beyond comprehension, Marcus and I both looked at each other for a moment then obediently walked over to the stranger. Placing the sign between his knobby legs, he extended his right hand.
“I’m Jerry, Morna’s husband. She dinna wanna risk either of ye not making it to our home this time, so she sent me to fetch ye. Come on now. We best get on. She’s not a woman known for her patience.”
I took his hand and gripped at Marcus with my left hand to keep myself steady. It wasn’t possible that this man was the same one from the story I’d read, but his description matched that of the Jerry in Morna’s story exactly.
Realizing that I was shaking his hand for an awkwardly long time, I quickly pulled it away.
“Pick yer chin up, lass. This is only the first of many surprising things ye will learn this day.”
I had absolutely no doubt about that.
Chapter 6
An Unnamed Village in Scotland—1651
* * *
He couldn’t make the rest of the journey home alone. His horse knew the path well, but not well enough to lead him home unguided, and he couldn’t see well enough to distinguish the paths in front of him. He would stop for the night and spend some time in the local alehouse. In any village, there were people looking for work. Anyone willing to guide him for the rest of the journey would be well paid.
The tavern was boisterous and filled to capacity with both locals and travelers. It took some time for him to get the barkeep’s attention once he made his way to the counter.
“Excuse me, sir. Might I ask ye a question?”
Even with bleary eyes, Raudrich could see how weathered the man was. A ragged scar sliced down one side of his face, and the man kept his hair long and disheveled. He was one of the broadest men he’d ever seen.
“Are ye a paying customer? If ye have no intention of drinking or eating here, I’ll not be answering anything.”
Pulling the small bag from his kilt, he plopped three coins down in front of the man.
“I’ll be doing both.”
Quickly sliding the coins toward him, the barkeep twisted and hollered to someone in the back room to bring him some food.
“Then I’m pleased to make yer acquaintance. Name’s Pinkie. What can I do for ye?”
Raudrich had never heard such a strange name before. He couldn’t help but ask.
“Is that yer real name?”
“O’course it isna my real name, but ’tis the name I gave ye.”
Raudrich liked the man already. He was as rough around the edges as many of the other eight.
“Verra well.” He extended his hand. “I’m Raudrich, and I’m in need of a hired hand to lead me home. Do ye know of anyone in the village who is trustworthy, knows the country well, and is in need of work?”
“Ye need a guide to take ye home? Are ye lost? Do ye not know the way yerself?”
Pinkie’s questions were valid. He only wished he didn’t have to answer them. He was weakened in his current state. It wasn’t something that he believed he would ever grow accustomed to.
“I’m not lost. I know the way verra well. ’Tis only that my eyes are failing me. They grow worse each day. I canna see the path to lead my horse.”
