The Wild Rose of Kilgannon Read Free Page A

emotions, unable to speak. Dougall did not notice my state as he stepped back and fumbled in his plaid, pulling out a tattered letter that he handed to me. "It's from Alex," he said unnecessarily as I looked at the familiar writing and tore the letter open. Ellen ushered me inside the hall and the rest of the clan poured in behind us. I stood to the side and read my husband's letter while the people surged around me.
    Mary Rose, Alex wrote. I'm sending this home with Dougall. He'll tell you of Sherrifmuir and Its aftermath. This rebellion Is a worse nightmare than anything I could have Imagined. We have no responsible leadership and half our force is fled. We wait while the English re-arm and reinforcements from the Continent arrive dally. If we could not win when we outnumbered them, what will happen when the forces are equal?
    The countryside is full of English troops taking reprisals, and we have retreated to Perth and do little to stop them. Mar and the others do nothing but talk, and I am disgusted with the lot of them as are the MacDonalds and Macleans and many others as well. We should becamped outside London and King George should be begging for a truce Instead of us sitting here on our hands. Unless a miracle happens, we are doomed. All that I ever said about the clans uniting or being destroyed Is true here, and I wish I could not see It. Scotland and the MacGannons will pay dearly for this.
    "Mama," Ian said, tugging at my skirt and bringing me back to the present. It took a moment for me to stop hearing Alex's voice, and I looked around in surprise at the clansmen waiting for me. "Come and sit with us. Dougal's
    telling what happened," Ian said. I nodded at Alex's son and, folding the letter, joined him at the table across from Dougall.
    "Alex sent us home," Dougall said as he ate with one hand, his other arm wrapped around Moira, large with child. Their Alasdair, not quite two, sat on his father's lap, sucking his thumb.
    "Why? What of the rebellion? Is it over?" I asked.
    Dougall looked uncomfortable. "No. But nothing's happening, so Alex sent those of us with the youngest children home. We left the others in good health, Mary , although I must tell ye that Alex was hurt in the battle."
    I nodded. "I have heard that. How is he now?"
    "Better. It was no' a bad wound at first, but it kept bleeding because Alex wouldna stay abed." When I asked why, Dougall laughed and took a swig of whisky. "He was too busy arguing with Mar. Alex caused such a ruckus that Mar wouldna let him in the war councils. The MacDonald said that if Alex were no there, neither would he be, and the Macleans did the same, so Mar finally let him back in." Dougall laughed again. "I dinna think Bobbing John Erskine, the mighty Earl of Mar, cares overmuch for our Alex."
    "What were they arguing about?" I asked.
    "Courage," he said and the other men nodded.
    "Or the lack of it," said one. "Mar wouldna press his advantage and Alex and the others were vexed by it."
    "I ken what Mar was thinking," Dougall said, "but I dinna agree with his conclusions. After the battle many men dinna have their plaids. They'd thrown them off before the battle and fought in shirts and it started to snow just after, so there were many men without proper clothing. Some left to go home then, more when the news came o' the loss at Preston. The roads were clogged with those leaving." He sighed and lifted his chin, looking around at the people gathered behind me. " Ye'd be happy to ken that we won our position in the battle. We were fearsome, we were, and the Clonmor men as well. The right dinna break, even when both the left and the middle did." Dougall sat back, his voice hushed now. "But I'll never forget the battle. When I looked up and beyond the next man in front of me, I couldna believe what I saw.
    "A sea of red. Red blood, red plaids, red coats, red hair. I've never seen so many shades of red in my life. And mud, that had been dirt, moistened with
    blood until ye could