Book Nine#DailyLines

#DailyLines #BookNine #JamieAndRoger #Mantalk

How old were you, the first time you saw a man killed? Roger askedabruptly.

Eight, Jamie replied without hesitation. In a fight during my first cattle raid.I wasna much troubled about it.

Jamie stopped quite suddenly, and Roger had to step to the side to avoidrunning into him.

Look, Jamie said, and he did. They were standing at the top of a small rise,where the trees fell away for a moment, and the Ridge and the north side of thecove below it spread before them, a massive chunk of solid black against theindigo of the faded sky. Tiny lights pricked the blackness, though; the windowsand sparking chimneys of a dozen cabins.

Its not only our wives and our weans, ken? Jamie said, and nodded towardthe lights. Its them, as well. All of them. His voice held an odd note; a sort ofpridebut rue and resignation, too.

_All of them_.Seventy-three households in all, Roger knew. Hed seen the ledgers Jamie kept,

written with painful care, noting the economy and welfare of each family whooccupied his landand his mind.

_Now therefore so shalt thou say unto my servant David, Thus saith the Lordof hosts, I took thee from the sheepcote, from following the sheep, to be ruler overmy people, over Israel_. The quote sprang to mind and hed spoken it aloudbefore he could think.

Jamie drew a deep, audible breath.Aye, he said. Sheep would be easier.

#DailyLines #BookNine #Fanny #Womanhood

Fanny was on her narrow bed, curled up tight as a hedgehog, her back to thedoor. She didnt look round at the sound of my footsteps, but her shoulders roseup higher round her ears.

Fanny? I said softly. Are you all right, sweetheart? From Jemmys obviousconcern about the blood, Id been a bit worriedbut I could see only a single smallstreak of blood and one or two spots on the muslin of her nightgown.

Im fine, said a small, cold voice. Its juth_just_blood.Thats quite true, I said equably, though the tone in which shed said it rather

alarmed me. I sat down beside her, and put a hand on her shoulder. It was hard aswood, and her skin was cold. How long had she been lying there uncovered?

Im all right, she said. I got the rags. Ill wath_wash_my rail in themorning.

Dont trouble about it, I said, and stroked the back of her head very lightly,as though she was a cat of uncertain temper. I wouldnt have thought she couldbecome any more tense, but she did. I took my hand away.

Are you in pain? I asked, in the business-like voice I used when taking aphysical history from someone whod come to my surgery. Shed heard it before,and the bony little shoulders relaxed, just a hair.

Not wealI mean, not _ree_-lee, she said, pronouncing it very distinctly. Ithad taken no little practice for her to be able to pronounce words correctly, after Ihad done the frenectomy that had freed her from being tongue-tied, and I couldtell that it annoyed her to be slipping back into the lisp of her bondage.

It jusst feels _tight_, she said. Like a fist squeezing me right there. Shepushed her own fists into her lower abdomen in illustration.

That sounds quite normal, I assured her. Its just your uterus waking up, soto speak. It hasnt moved noticeably before, so you wouldnt have been aware ofit. Id explained the internal structure of the female reproductive system to her,with drawings, and while shed seemed mildly repulsed, she _had_ paid attention.

To my surprise, the back of her neck went pale at this, her shoulders hunchingup again.

Fanny? I said, and ventured to touch her again, stroking her arm. Youveseen girls come into their courses before, havent you? So far as we couldestimate, shed lived in a Philadelphia brothel since the age of five or so; I wouldhave been astonished if she hadnt seen almost everything the female reproductive

system could do. And then it struck me, and I scolded myself for a fool. Of course.She _had_.

Yess, she said, in that cold, remote way. It means two things. You can begot with child, and you can start to earn money.

#DailyLines #BookNine #Noitsnotout #Itwontbeoutforalongtime#Imjuststartingit #Breathe #GobackandreadOutlander

Ye healed me of something a good deal worse, Sassenach, he said, andtouched my hand gently. Hed touched me with his right hand, the maimed one.

I didnt, I protested. You did that yourselfyou had to. All I did waser

Drug me wi opium and fornicate me back to life? Aye, that.It wasnt fornication, I said, rather primlybut I turned my hand and laced

my fingers tightly with his. We were married.Aye, it was, he said, and his mouth tightened, as well as his grip. It wasna

you I was swiving, and ye ken that as well as I do.I swallowed, watching the fire-shadows move on the rough-hewn wall and

recalling all too vividly the coldness of hard stone against my back and the fire-shot, fractured images that had splintered in my mind as his hands had closedaround my neck. I cleared my throat by reflex.

It was me at the end, I said softly, and touched his face with my free hand.You came back--to me.

#DailyLines #BookNine #Noitsnotout #Ivejuststartedworkingonit#whileyourewaiting #ReadTheCityStainedRed

Jemmy was standing in the dark just outside the door and I nearly crashed intohim.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I said, only just managing to say it in a whisper.What are you doing here? Why arent you asleep?

He ignored this, looking into the dim light of the bedroom and the humpedshadow on the wall, a deeply troubled look on his face.

What happened to Fannys sister, Grannie?I hesitated, looking down at him. He was only ten. And surely it was his

parents place to tell him what they thought he should know. But Fanny was hisfriendand God knew, she needed a friend she could trust.

Come down with me, I said, turning him toward the stair with a hand on hisshoulder. Ill tell you while I make more tea. And _dont_ bloody tell your motherI did.

I told him, as simply as I could, and omitting the things Fanny had told meabout the late Captain Harknesss habits.

Do you know the word whoreerhoor, I mean? I amended, and thefrown of incomprehension relaxed.

Sure. Germain told me. Hoors are ladies that go to bed with men they arentmarried to. Fannys not a hoor, thoughwas her sister? He looked troubled atthe thought.

Well, yes, I said. Not to put too fine a point on it. But womenor girlswho become whores do it because they have no other way to earn a living. Notbecause they want to, I mean.

He looked confused. How do they earn money?Oh. The men pay them toergo to bed with them. Take my word for it, I

assured him, seeing his eyes widen in astonishment.I go to bed with Mandy and Fanny all the time, he protested. And Germain,

too. I wouldnt pay them money for being girls!Jeremiah, I said, pouring fresh hot water into the pot. Go to bed is a

euphemismdo you know that word? It means saying something that soundsbetter than what youre really talking aboutfor sexual intercourse.

Oh, _that_, he said, his face clearing. Like the pigs?

Rather like that, yes. Find me a clean cloth, will you? There should be some inthe lower cupboard. I knelt, knees creaking slightly, and scooped the hot stoneout of the ashes with the poker. It made a small hissing sound as the cold air of thesurgery hit the hot surface.

So, I said, reaching for the cloth hed fetched me, and trying for as matter-of-fact a voice as could be managed, Jane and Fannys parents had died, and theyhad no way to feed themselves, so Jane became a whore. But some men are verywickedI expect you know that already, dont you? I added, glancing up at him,and he nodded soberly.

Yes. Well, a wicked man came to the place where Jane and Fanny lived andwanted to make Fanny go to bed with him, even though she was much too youngto do such a thing. AnderJane killed him.

Wow.I blinked at him, but it had been said with the deepest respect. I coughed, and

began folding the cloth.It was very heroic of her, yes. But sheHow did she kill him?With a knife, I said, a little tersely, hoping he wouldnt ask for details. I knew

them, thanks to Rachel and Lord John, and wished I didnt.

#DailyLines #BookNine #Noitisntout #Imworkingonit #NoSpoilers#narcolepsy

There was not only a quarter of an apple pie and cream to go on it, but a heel ofsharp cheese, cold potato pancakes, salt in a twist of paper, and a dish containingthe last of the pickled herrings hed brought from Salem two weeks ago. And a jugof milk. And one of small-beer. And two cups, a knife for the cheese, and a pair ofspoons. And an old dish-cloth, in case of spills. I sat down on the bed beside himand spread this tidily over my knees before picking up my own spoon.

Shall I poke up the fire? I asked. It was a bit chilly in the room, but Jamie wasradiating a sleepy warmth, and I liked the irregular glimmer from the smooredhearth; it gave me a pleasantly dream-like feeling, a sense of midnight secrecy.

No on my account, Sassenach. Ill likely be asleep again, directly Ive finishedmy supper. He gave a sudden huge involuntary yawn, then shook his head asthough driving off an imminent threat of sleep.

Do you know a General Lincoln? I asked. Benjamin, I think his first nameis.

He paused, a bite of cheese halfway to his mouth and blinked once or twice.I wouldna say hes a personal friend, but Ive heard the name, aye. Hes

commander of the Southern Army. He ate the cheese slowly, swallowed, andadded, Why?

Denzell Hunter told me that the General suffers from narcolepsy. Youryawning just reminded me of it.

He shot me a mildly suspicious look, and reached for a pickled herring.Do I want to know what that is?Probably not. But on the off-chance that you ever meet General Lincoln, it

might be helpful to know. Its a rather fascinating condition wherein the patientfalls quite suddenly asleep, no matter what hes doing.

That interested him; he ate the bit of herring but didnt reach for another.No matter what? Even if he should be eating? Or in battle? That might be just

a wee bit awkward, aye?That appeared to be the possibility that was occupying Dennys mind, yes.He yawned again, without warning.Does it come on suddenly? Or is it contagious? I think I may have caught it.

Oh, God. He yawned again and blinked, eyes watering slightly.

I doubt narcolepsy is catching, but yawning is, I said, smothering aninvoluntary gape. Will you stop doing that?

He let his head fall back, eyes closed, and gave a faint groan, then straightenedup again and reached for the last of the pie.

I wasnt surprised. Hed left at dawn, going after a hog that had been makingrepeated nightly efforts to root up my garden fence and devour the last of theneeps and yams. Hed tracked the beast for more than two miles before findingand killing itand had then dragged it back, single-handed. Even gralloched, thething weighed more than I did, but there were wolves about and hed beenunwilling to leave the carcass long enough to come home and fetch help. He andthe hog had finally arrived, dead-tired and dead, respectively, just after nightfall.

Id been of two minds about waking himbut hed been too tired to eat muchsupper. And then again, it was apple pie. We finished the meal in a companionablesilence, and after rinsing his mouth with water and spitting out the window, Jamiecame back to bed like a heavy-eyed homing pigeon.

I think Ill work for a bit in the surgery, I said, drawing the quilts up underhis chin. His eyes were already half-shut. Ill be up in an hour or so.

Dinna hurry yourself on my account, Sassenach. He snaked an arm out fromunder the covers and drew me down, giving me a sweet, pie-scented kiss withundertones of herring. I willna be much good to ye in bed for another fortnight orso.

That a promise, is it? I kissed him gently back. Ill circle the date on mycalendar.

#DailyLines #BookNine #NoItIsntOut #BarelyStarted #TryZenMeditation

Roger raised his chin and I reached up carefully, fitting my fingers about hisneck, just under his jaw. Hed just shaved; his skin was cool and slightly damp andI caught a whiff of the shaving soap Brianna made for him, scented with juniperberries. I was moved by the sense of ceremony in that small gesture--and movedmuch more by the hope in his eyes that he tried to hide.

You know I said hesitantly, and felt his Adams apple bob below my hand.I know, he said gruffly. No expectations. If something happenswell, it

does. If not, Im no worse off.I nodded, and felt gently about. Id done that before, after his injury, tending

the swelling and the rope-burn, now a ragged white scar. The tracheostomy Idperformed to save his life had left a smaller scar in the hollow of his throat, a slightvertical depression about an inch long. I passed my thumb over that, feeling thehealthy rings of cartilage above and below. The lightness of the touch made himshiver suddenly, tiny goosebumps stippling his neck, and he gave the breath of alaugh.

Goose walking on my grave, he said.Stamping about on your throat, more like, I said, smiling. Tell me again

what Dr. MacEwen said.I hadnt taken my hand away, and felt the lurch of his Adams apple as he

cleared his throat hard.He prodded my throatmuch as youre doing, he added, smiling back.

And he asked me if I knew what a hyoid bone was. He said Rogers hand roseinvoluntarily toward his throat, but stopped a few inches from touching it, thatmine was an inch or so higher than usual, and that if it had been in the normalplace, Id be dead.

Really, I said, interested. I put a thumb just under his jaw and said,Swallow, please.

He did, and I touched my own neck and swallowed, still touching his.Ill be damned, I said. Its a small sample size, and granted, there may be

differences attributable to genderbut he may well be right. Perhaps youre aNeanderthal.

A what? He stared at me.Just a joke, I assured him. But its true that one of the differences between

the Neanderthals and modern humans is that their hyoid bone was much higher;

for a long time, scientists didnt think they even had a hyoidits quite a smallbone, and easily overlooked in burials of such an age--and thus concluded thatthey must have been mute. You rather need one for coherent speech I added,seeing his blank look. It anchors the tongue.

How extremely fascinating, Roger said politely.I cleared my own throat, and circled his neck once again.

#DailyLines #BookNine #NoItsNotOut #ItllBeAwhile#IveJustStartedWorkingOnIt #TryTheMethadoneList

Can we wash my dollys face, too? Mandy asked. Dose bad boys got herdirty!

I listened with half an ear to her mingled endearments to Esmeralda anddenunciations of her brother and Germain, but most of my attention was focusedon what was going on in the yard.

I could hear Jems voice, high and argumentative, and Rogers, firm and muchlower, but couldnt pick out any words. Roger _was_ talking, though, and I didnthear any choking or coughingthat was good.

The memory of him bellowing at the children was even better. Hed done thatbeforeit was a necessity, children and the great outdoors being what theyrespectively werebut Id never heard him do it without his voice breaking, witha followup of coughing and throat-clearing. MacEwan had said that it was a smallimprovement, and that it took time for healing. Had I actually done anything tohelp?

I looked critically at the palm of my hand, but it looked much as usual; a half-healed paper cut on the middle finger, stains from picking blackberries, and aburst blister on my thumb, from snatching a spider full of bacon that had caughtfire out of the hearth without a rag. Not a sign of any blue light, certainly.

Wassat, Grannie? Amanda leaned off the counter to look at my upturnedhand.

Whats what? That black splotch? I think its ink; I was writing up my case-book last night. Kirsty Wilsons rash. Id thought at first it was just poison sumac,but it was hanging on in a rather worrying fashionno fever, thoughperhaps itwas hives? Or some kind of atypical psoriasis?

No, _dat_. Mandy poked a wet, chubby finger at the heel of my hand. Issaletter! She twisted her head half-round to look closer, black curls tickling acrossmy arm. Letter J! she announced triumphantly. J is for Jemmy! I hate Jemmy,she added, frowning.

Er I said, completely nonplused. It _was_ the letter J. The scar had fadedto a thin white line, but was still clear if the light struck right. The scar Jamie hadgiven me, when Id left him at Culloden. Left him to die, hurling myself throughthe stones to save his unborn, unknown child. Our child. And if I hadnt?

I looked at Mandy, blue-eyed and black-curled and perfect as a tiny springapple. Heard Jem outside, now giggling with his father. It had cost us twenty

years apartyears of hearbreak, pain and danger. And it had been worth it.Its for Grand-das name. J for Jamie, I said to Amanda, who nodded as

though that made perfect sense, clutching a soggy Esmeralda to her chest. Itouched her glowing cheek, and imagined for an instant that my fingers might betinged with blue.

Mandy, I said, on impulse. What color is my hair?_When your hair is white, youll come into your full power_. An old

Tuscarora wisewoman named Nayawenne had said that to me, years agoalongwith a lot of other disturbing things.

Mandy stared intently at me for a moment, then said definitely, Brindle.What? Where did you learn that word, for heavens sake?Grand-da. He sayss its what color Charlie is. Charlie was a rather stylishly

multi-colored pig belonging to the Beardsley household.Hmm, I said. Not yet, then. All right, sweetheart, lets go and hang

Esmeralda out to dry.

#DailyLines #BookNine #inHonorOfMarch6th

[March 6th, 1988 is the day I began to write what would eventually becomeOUTLANDER. I meant to write a practice book, in order to learn how to write anovel. Once I knew how it all worked, I thought, I could write a _real_ novel; one Imeant to be published. But I didnt mean to tell anyone what I was doing, let aloneshow it to anybody.

Things Happen, though, and here we all are, twenty-seven years and fourteenbooks and a lovely TV show later. Apparently I was right, when I thought (at theage of 8) that I was supposed to be a novelist. And so in celebration, heres a muchlarger-than-usual chunk of #DailyLines. Hope you enjoy them!]

[In which, Fanny has just started her first menstrual period, and is more upsetthan might usually be the case, since to her, its the signal that shes just become amarketable sexual commodity.]

Sweetheart, I said, more gently, and put a hand under her chin to lift her face.Her eyes met mine like a blow, their soft brown nearly black with fear. Her chinwas rigid, her jaw set tight, and I took my hand away.

You dont really think that we intend you to be a whore, Fanny? She heardthe incredulousness in my voice, and blinked. Once. Then looked down again.

Imnot good for anything else, she said, in a small voice. But Im worth alot of moneyfor_that_. She waved a hand over her lap, in a quick, almostresentful gesture.

I felt as though Id been punched in my own belly. Did she really thinkbutshe clearly did. Must have thought so, all the time she had been living with us.Shed seemed to thrive at first, safe from danger and well-fed, with the boys ascompanions. But the last month or so, shed seemed withdrawn and thoughtful,eating much less. Id seen the physical signs and reckoned them as due to hersensing the imminent change; had prepared the emmenagogue herbs, to be ready.That was apparently the case, but obviously I hadnt guessed the half of it.

That isnt true, Fanny, I said, and took her hand. She let me, but it lay in minelike a dead bird. Thats _not_ your only worth. Oh, God, did it sound as thoughshe had another, and thats why we had--

I meanwe didnt take you in because we thought youyoud be profitableto us in some way. Not at all. She turned her face away, with an almost inaudiblesniffing noise. This was getting worse by the moment. I had a sudden memory of

Brianna as a young teenager, and spending hours in her bedroom, mired in futilereassurances_no, you arent ugly, of course youll have a boyfriend when itstime, no, everybody doesnt hate you_I hadnt been good at it then, and clearlythose particular maternal skills hadnt improved with age.

We took you because we wanted you, sweetheart, I said, stroking theunresponsive hand. Wanted to take care of you. She pulled it away and curledup again, face in her pillow.

Do, you didn. Her voice came thick, and she cleared her throat, hard.William made Mr. Fraser take me.

I laughed out loud, and she turned her head from the pillow to look at me,surprised.

Really, Fanny, I said. Speaking as one who knows both of them rather well, Ican assure you that no one in the world could make either one of those men doanything whatever against his will. Mr. Fraser is stubborn as a rock, and his son isjust like him. How long have you known William?

Notlong, she said, uncertain. But--but he tried to save J-Jane. She likedhim. Sudden tears welled in her eyes and she turned her face back into the pillow.

Oh, I said, much more softly. I see. Youre thinking of her. Of Jane. Ofcourse.

She nodded and put her face back in the pillow, small shoulders hunched andshaking. Her plait had unraveled and the soft brown curls fell away, exposing thewhite skin of her neck, slender as a stalk of blanched asparagus.

Itth the only t-time I ever thaw her cry, she said, the words only half-audiblebetween emotion and muffling.

Jane? What was it?Her firtht_first_time. Wifwith--a man. When she came back and gave

the bloody towel to Mithess Seacrest. She did that, and then she crawled into bedwith me and cried. I held huh andand petted huhbuI couldnt make herthtop. She pulled her arms under her and shook with silent sobs.

Sassenach? Jamies voice came from the doorway, husky with sleep. Whatsamiss? I rolled over and found Jem in my bed, instead of you. He spoke calmly,but his eyes were fixed on Fannys shivering back. He glanced at me, one eyebrowraised, and moved his head slightly toward the door-jamb. Did I want him toleave?

I glanced down at Fanny and up at him with a helpless twitch of my shoulder,and he moved at once into the room, pulling up a stool beside Fannys bed. He

noticed the blood-streaks at once and looked up at me againsurely this was mybusiness?but I shook my head, keeping a hand on Fannys back.

Fannys missing her sister, I said, addressing the only aspect of things Ithought might be dealt with effectively at the moment.

Ah, Jamie said softly, and before I could stop him, had bent down andgathered her gently up into his arms. I stiffened for an instant, afraid that having aman touch her just nowbut she turned into him at once, flinging her arms abouthis neck and sobbing into his chest.

He sat down, holding her on his knee, and I felt the unhappy tension in myown shoulders ease, seeing him smooth her hair and murmur things to her in a_Gaidhlg_ she didnt speak, but clearly understood as well as a horse or dogmight.

Fanny went on sobbing for a bit, but slowly calmed under his touch, onlyhiccupping now and then.

I saw your sister just the once, he said softly. Jane was her name, aye? JaneEleanor. She was a bonny lass. And she loved ye dear, Frances. I ken that.

Fanny nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I looked at the cornerwhere Mandy lay on the trundle. She was dead to the world, though, thumbplugged securely into her mouth. Fanny got herself under control within a fewseconds, though, and I wondered whether she had been beaten at the brothel forweeping or displaying violent emotion.

She did it fuh me, she said, in tones of absolute desolation. Killed CaptainHarkness. And now sheth dead. Itth all my fault. And despite the whiteness ofher clenched knuckles, more tears welled in her eyes. Jamie looked at me over herhead, then swallowed to get his own voice under control.

Ye would have done anything for your sister, aye? he said, gently rubbingher back between the bony little shoulderblades.

Yes, she said, voice muffled in his shoulder.Aye, of course. And she would ha done the same for youand did. Ye

wouldna have hesitated for a moment to lay down your life for her, and nor didshe. It wasna your fault, _a nighean_.

It _was_! I shouldnt have made a fuss, I should haveoh, Janie!She clung to him, abandoning herself to grief. Jamie patted her and let her cry,

but he looked at me over the disheveled crown of her head and raised his brows.I got up and came to stand behind him, a hand on his shoulder, and in

murmured French, acquainted him in a few words with the other source of

Fannys distress. He pursed his lips for an instant, but then nodded, never ceasingto pet her and make soothing noises. The tea had gone cold, particles of rosemaryand ground ginger floating on the murky surface. I took up the pot and cup andwent quietly out to make it fresh.

Jemmy was standing in the dark just outside the door and I nearly crashed intohim.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I said, only just managing to say it in a whisper.What are you doing here? Why arent you asleep?

He ignored this, looking into the dim light of the bedroom and the humpedshadow on the wall, a deeply troubled look on his face.

What happened to Fannys sister, Grannie?I hesitated, looking down at him. He was only ten. And surely it was his

parents place to tell him what they thought he should know. But Fanny was hisfriendand God knew, she needed a friend she could trust.

Come down with me, I said, turning him toward the stair with a hand on hisshoulder. Ill tell you while I make more tea. And _dont_ bloody tell your motherI did.

I told him, as simply as I could, and omitting the things Fanny had told meabout the late Captain Harknesss habits.

Do you know the word whoreerhoor, I mean? I amended, and thefrown of incomprehension relaxed.

Sure. Germain told me. Hoors are ladies that go to bed with men they arentmarried to. Fannys not a hoor, thoughwas her sister? He looked troubled atthe thought.

Well, yes, I said. Not to put too fine a point on it. But womenor girlswho become whores do it because they have no other way to earn a living. Notbecause they want to, I mean.

He looked confused. How do they earn money?Oh. The men pay them toergo to bed with them. Take my word for it, I

assured him, seeing his eyes widen in astonishment.I go to bed with Mandy and Fanny all the time, he protested. And Germain,

too. I wouldnt pay them money for being girls!Jeremiah, I said, pouring fresh hot water into the pot. Go to bed is a

euphemismdo you know that word? It means saying something that soundsbetter than what youre really talking aboutfor sexual intercourse.

Oh, _that_, he said, his face clearing. Like the pigs?Rather like that, yes. Find me a clean cloth, will you? There should be some in

the lower cupboard. I knelt, knees creaking slightly, and scooped the hot stoneout of the ashes with the poker. It made a small hissing sound as the cold air of thesurgery hit the hot surface.

So, I said, reaching for the cloth hed fetched me, and trying for as matter-of-fact a voice as could be managed, Jane and Fannys parents had died, and theyhad no way to feed themselves, so Jane became a whore. But some men are verywickedI expect you know that already, dont you? I added, glancing up at him,and he nodded soberly.

Yes. Well, a wicked man came to the place where Jane and Fanny lived andwanted to make Fanny go to bed with him, even though she was much too youngto do such a thing. AnderJane killed him.

Wow.I blinked at him, but it had been said with the deepest respect. I coughed, and

began folding the cloth.It was very heroic of her, yes. But sheHow did she kill him?With a knife, I said, a little tersely, hoping he wouldnt ask for details. I knew

them, thanks to Rachel and Lord John, and wished I didnt.But the man was a soldier, and when the British army found out, they arrested

Jane.Oh, Jesus, Jem said, in tones of awed horror. Did they hang her, like they

tried to hang Dad?I tried to think whether I should tell him not to take the Lords name in vain,

but on the one hand, he clearly hadnt meant it that wayand for another, I was ablackened pot in that particular regard.

They meant to. She was alone, and very much afraidand shewell, shekilled herself, darling.

He looked at me for a long moment, face blank, then swallowed, hard.Did Jane go to Hell, Grannie? he asked, in a small voice. Is that why Fannys

so sad?Id wrapped the stone thickly in cloth; the heat of it glowed in the palms of my

hands.No, sweetheart, I said, with as much conviction as I could muster. Im quite

sure she didnt. God would certainly understand the circumstances. No, Fannysjust missing her sister.

He nodded, very sober.Id miss Mandy, if she killed somebody and got He gulped at the thought.

I was somewhat concerned to note that the notion of Mandy killing someoneapparently seemed reasonable to him, but then

Im quite sure nothing like that would ever happen to Mandy. Here. I gavehim the wrapped stone. Be careful with it.

We made our way slowly upstairs, trailing warm ginger steam, and foundJamie sitting beside Fanny on the bed, a small collection of things laid out on thequilt between them. He looked up at me, flicked an eyebrow at Jem, and thennodded at the quilt.

Frances was just showing me a picture of her sister. Would ye let Mrs. Fraserand Jem have a look, _a nighean_?

Fannys face was still blotched from crying, but she had herself more or lessback in hand, and she nodded soberly, moving aside a little.

The small bundle of possessions she had brought with her was unrolled,revealing a pathetic little pile of items: a nit comb, the cork from a wine-bottle, twoneatly-folded hanks of thread, one with a needle stuck through it, a paper of pins,and a few small bits of tawdry jewelry. On the quilt was a sheet of paper, muchfolded and worn in the creases, with a pencil drawing of a girl.

One of the punters dwew_drew_it, one night in the salon, Fanny said,moving aside a little, so we could look.

It was no more than a sketch, but the artist had caught a spark of life. Jane hadbeen lovely in outline, straight-nosed and with a delicate, ripe mouth, but therewas neither flirtation nor demureness in her expression. She was looking half overher shoulder, half-smiling, but with an air of mild scorn in her look.

Shes pretty, Fanny, Jemmy said, and came to stand by her. He patted herarm as he would have patted a dog, and with as little self-consciousness.

Jamie had given Fanny a handkerchief, I saw; she sniffed and blew her nose,nodding.

This is all I have, she said, her voice hoarse as a young toads. Just this andher wocklocket.

This? Jamie stirred the little pile gently with a big forefinger, and withdrew asmall brass oval, dangling on a chain. Is it a miniature of Jane, then, or maybe alock of her hair?

Fanny shook her head, taking the locket from him.No, she said. Its a picture of our muv-mother. She slid a thumbnail into

the side of the locket and flicked it open. I bent forward to look, but the miniatureinside was hard to see, shadowed as it was by Jamies body.

May I? She handed me the locket and I turned to hold it close to the candle.The woman inside had dark, somewhat curly hair like Fannysand I thought Icould make out a resemblance to Jane in the nose and set of chin, though it wasnta particularly skillful rendering.

Behind me, I heard Jamie say, quite casually, Frances, no man will ever takeye against your will, while I live.

There was a startled silence, and I turned round to see Fanny staring up at him.He touched her hand, very gently.

Dye believe me, Frances? he said quietly.Yes, she whispered, after a long moment, and all the tension left her body in

a sigh like the east wind.Jemmy leaned against me, head pressing my elbow, and I realized that I was

just standing there, my eyes full of tears. I blotted them hastily on my sleeve, andpressed the locket closed. Or tried to; it slipped in my fingers and I saw that therewas a name inscribed inside it, opposite the miniature.

Faith, it said.

#DailyLines #BookNine #brothersistersnip

I like goats, Jenny said, shoving aside a pair of questing lips. [Shoo, goat.]Sheep are good-hearted things, save the ram-lambs tryin to knock ye over, buttheyre no bright. A goat has a mind of its own.

Aye, and so do you. Ian always said ye liked the goats because theyre just asstubborn as you are.

She gave him a long, level look.Pot, she said succinctly.Kettle, he replied, flicking his grass-stem toward her nose. She grabbed it out

of his hand and fed it to the goat.

#DailyLines #BookNine #NoItsNotFinished #BarelyStarted#HauldYourWheesht #JamieAndJenny #AndMurtagh

God, I miss the old bugger, Jamie said impulsively. Jenny glanced at him andsmiled ruefully.

So do I. I wonder sometimes if hes with them nowmam and da.That notion startled Jamiehed never thought of itand he laughed, shaking

his head. Well, if he is, I suppose hes happy.I hope thats the way of it, Jenny said, growing serious. I always wished he

could ha been buried with them, at Lallybroch.Jamie nodded, his throat suddenly tight. Murtagh lay with the fallen of

Culloden, buried in some anonymous pit on that silent moor, his bones mingledwith the others. No cairn for those who loved him to come and leave a stone to sayso.

Jenny laid a hand on his arm, warm through the cloth of his sleeve.Dinna mind it,_ a brathair_, she said softly. He had a good death, and you

with him at the end.How would you know it was a good death? Emotion made him speak more

roughly than he meant, but she only blinked once, and then her face settled again.Ye told me, idiot, she said dryly. Several times. Dye not recall that?He stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending.I told ye? How? I dinna ken what happened.Now it was her turn to be surprised.Yeve forgotten? She frowned at him. Aye, wellits true ye were off your

heid wi fever for a good ten days when they brought ye home. Ian and I took it inturn to sit with yeas much to stop the doctor takin your leg off as anything else.Ye can thank Ian yeve still got that one, she added, nodding sharply at his leftleg. He sent the doctor away; said he kent well yed rather be dead. Her eyesfilled abruptly with tears, and she turned away.

He caught her by the shoulder and felt her bones, fine and light as a kestrelsunder the cloth of her shawl.

Jenny, he said softly. He didna want to be dead. Believe me. I did, ayebutnot him.

No, he did at first, she said, and swallowed . But ye wouldna let him, hesaidand he wouldna let you, either. She wiped her face with the back of her

hand, roughly. He took hold of it, and kissed it, her fingers cold in his hand.Ye dinna think ye had anything to do with it? he asked, straightening up and

smiling down at her. For either of us?

#DailyLines #BookNine #NoNotYet #ItllBeAwhile #ImSlowYouKnow#JamieAndJenny #Andacoupleofgoats #andmaybeabear

Theres a bear up here, is there? Jenny asked, turning back to him. Shall Itake the goats back down?

It might be. Jo Beardsley saw it a few days ago, here in the meadow, buttheres no fresh sign.

Jenny thought that over for a moment, then sat down on a lichened rock,spreading her skirts out neatly. The goats had gone back to their grazing, and sheraised her face to the sun, closing her eyes.

Only a fool would hunt a bear alone, she said, her eyes still closed. Clairetold me that.

Did she? he said dryly. Did she tell ye the last time I killed a bear, I did italone, with my dirk? _ And_ that she hit me in the heid wi a fish whilst I was doinit?

She opened her eyes and gave him a look.She didna say a fool canna be lucky, she pointed out. And if you didna have

the luck o the devil himself, yed have been dead six times over by now.Six? He frowned, disturbed, and her brow lifted in surprise.I wasna really counting, she said. It was only a guess. What is it, _a

graidh_?That casual _O, love_, caught him unexpectedly in a tender place, and he

coughed to hide it.Nothing, he said, shrugging. Only, when I was young in Paris, a fortune-

teller told me Id die nine times before my death. Dye think I should count thefever after Laoghaire shot me?

She shook her head definitely.Nay, ye wouldna have died even had Claire not come back wi her wee

stabbers. Ye would have got up and gone after her within a day or two.He smiled.I mightve.His sister made a small noise in her throat that might have been laughter or

derision.They were silent for a moment, both with heads lifted, listening to the wood.

The dripping had ceased now, and you could hear a treepie close by, with a callexactly like a rusty hinge opening. Then there was a loud _quah-quah_ as a magpiecalled from somewhere behind him, and he saw Jenny look up over his shoulderwide-eyed.

Just one? he said, keeping his voice calm, but feeling a tightness between hisshoulder-blades. _One for sorrow_

She held up a hand, silencing him, and sat listening, her eyes combing thebranches for a second bird. _ Two for mirth_ Her face lightened as a long, shrill_quahhhhhhh_ came from the left and he swung round to see the second magpieclinging to a swaying pine branch, a beady eye fixed on the ground. He relaxedand drew breath.

So did Jenny, and taking up the conversation where shed left it, asked, Dyehold it against me, that I made ye marry Laoghaire?

He gave her a look.What makes ye think ye could make me do_ anything_ I didna want to, ye

wee fuss-budget?What the devil is a fuss-budget? she demanded, frowning up at him.A bag of nuisance, so far as I can tell, he admitted. Jemmy called Mandy it

last week. A sudden dimple appeared near Jennys mouth, but she didnt actuallylaugh.

Aye, she said. Ye ken what I mean.I do, he said. And I dont. Hold it against ye, I mean. She didna actually kill

me, after all.

#DailyLines #BookNine #TellingBeads #brother/sister

Oh, yeve got your beads after all, Jenny said, surprised. Ye didna haveyour rosary in Scotland, so I thought yed lost it. Meant to make ye a new one, butthere wasna time, what with Ian She lifted one shoulder, the gestureencompassing the whole of the terrible months of Ians long dying.

He touched the beads, self-conscious. Aye, wellI had, in a way of speaking.Igave it to William. When he was a wee lad, and I had to leave him at Helwater.I gave him the beads for something to keeptoremember me by.

Mmphm. She looked at him with sympathy. Aye. And I expect he gavethem back to ye in Philadelphia, did he?

He did, Jamie said, a bit terse, and a wry amusement touched Jennys face.Tell ye one thing, _a brathair_hes no going to forget you.Aye, maybe not, he said, feeling an unexpected comfort in the thought.

Well, then He let the beads run through his fingers, taking hold of the crucifix.I believe in one God

They said the Creed together, and the three Hail Marys and the Glory Be.Joyful or Glorious? he asked, fingers on the first bead of the decades. He

didnt want to do the Sorrowful Mysteries, the ones about suffering andcrucifixion, and he didnt think she did, either. A magpie called from the maples,and he wondered briefly if it was one theyd already seen, or a third. _Three for awedding, four for a death_

Joyful, she said at once. The Annunciation. Then she paused, and noddedat him to take the first turn. He didnt have to think.

For Murtagh, he said quietly, and his fingers tightened on the bead. AndMam and Da. Hail Mary, full o grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thouamongst women and blest is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of ourdeath, Amen. Jenny finished the prayer and they said the rest of the decade intheir usual way, back and forth, the rhythm of their voices soft as the rustle ofgrass.

They reached the second decade, the Visitation, and he nodded at Jennyherturn.

For Ian g, she said softly, eyes on her beads. And Ian Mr. Hail Mary.

#DailyLines #BookNine #NOitsnotoutyet #dontbesilly #itllbealongtime#goreadLordJohn #gowatchEps1-8 #takeupanewhobby

The fly spiraled down, green and yellow as a falling leaf, to land among therings of the rising hatch. It floated for a second on the surface, maybe two, thenvanished in a tiny splash, yanked out of sight by voracious jaws. Roger flicked theend of his rod sharply to set the hook, but there was no need. The trout werehungry this evening, striking at everything, and his fish had taken the hook sodeep that bringing it in needed nothing but brute force.

It came up fighting, though, flapping and silver in the last of the light. He couldfeel its life through the line, fierce and bright, so much bigger than the fish itself,and his heart rose to meet it.

Who taught ye to cast, Roger Mac? His father-in-law took the trout as it cameashore, still flapping, and clubbed it neatly on a stone. That was as pretty a touchas ever Ive seen.

Roger made a modest gesture of dismissal, but flushed a little with pleasure atthe compliment; Jamie didnt say such things lightly.

My father, he said.Aye? Jamie looked startled, and Roger hastened to correct himself.The Reverend, I mean. He was really my great-uncle, and by marriage at

that.Still your father, Jamie said, but smiled. He glanced toward the far side of the

pool where Germain and Jemmy were squabbling over whod caught the biggestfish. They had a respectable string, but hadnt thought to keep their catchesseparate, so couldnt tell whod caught what.

Ye dinna think it makes a difference, do ye? That Jems mine by blood andGermain by love?

You know I dont. Roger smiled himself at sight of the two boys. Germainwas two years older than Jem, but slightly built, like both his parents. Jem had thelong bones and wide shoulders of his grandfatherand his father, Roger thought,straightening his own shoulders. The two boys were much of a height, and the hairof both glowed red at the moment, the ruddy light of the sinking sun setting fire toGermains blond mop. Wheres Fanny, come to think? Shed settle them.

Frances was twelve, but sometimes seemed much youngerand oftenstartlingly older. Shed been fast friends with Germain when Jem had arrived onthe Ridge, and rather stand-offish, fearing that Jem would come between her and

her only friend. But Jem was an open, sweet-tempered lad, and Germain knew agood deal more about how people worked than did the average eleven-year oldex-pickpocket, and shortly the three of them were to be seen everywhere together,giggling as they slithered through the shrubbery, intent on some mysteriouserrand, or turning up at the end of churning, too late to help with the work, butjust in time for a glass of fresh buttermilk.

Ach, the poor wee lassie started her courses last night. Jamie lifted ashoulder in an economical shrug that conveyed acknowledgement of the situation,regret, and resignation. Shes no feeling just that well in herself.

Roger nodded, threading the stringer through the fishs dark-red gill slit. Heknew what Jamie meant. Jems arrival hadnt stopped Fannys friendship withGermainbut this might. Or alter it irrevocably, which would likely come to thesame thing, so far as Fanny was concerned.

There was nothing to be done about it, though, and neither man said more.The sun came low through the trees, but the trout were still biting, the water

dappling with dozens of bright rings and the frequent splash of a leaping fish.Rogers fingers tightened for a moment on his rod, tempted--but they had enoughfor supper and next mornings breakfast, too. No point in catching more; therewere were a dozen casks of smoked and salted fish already put away in the cold-cellar, and the light was going.

Jamie showed no signs of moving, though. He was sitting on a comfortablestump, bare-legged and clad in nothing but his shirt, his old hunting plaid puddledon the ground behind; it had been a warm day for (September, October?) and thebalm of it still lingered in the air. He glanced at the boys, who had forgotten theirargument and were back at their poles, intent as a pair of kingfishers.

Jamie turned to Roger then, and said, in a quite ordinary tone of voice, DoPresbyterians have the sacrament of Confession, _mac mo chinnidh_?

Roger said nothing for a moment, taken aback both by the question and itsimmediate implications, and by Jamies addressing him as son of my houseathing hed done exactly once, at the calling of the clans at Mt. Helicon some yearsbefore.

The question itself was straight-forward, though, and he answered it that way.No. Catholics have seven sacraments but Presbyterians only recognize two:

Baptism and the Lords Supper. He might have left it at that, but the firstimplication of the question was plain before him.

Dye have a thing ye want to tell me, Jamie? He thought it might be thesecond time hed called his father-in-law Jamie to his face. I cant give ye

absolutionbut I can listen.He wouldnt have said that Jamies face showed anything in the way of strain.

But now it relaxed and the difference was sufficiently visible that his own heartopened to the man, ready for whatever he might say. Or so he thought.

Aye. Jamies voice was husky and he cleared his throat, ducking his head, alittle shy. Aye, thatll do fine. Dye remember the night we took Claire back fromthe bandits?

Im no likely to forget it, Roger said, staring at him. He cut his eyes at theboys, but they were still at it, and he looked back at Jamie. Why? he asked,wary.

Were ye there wi me, at the last, when I broke Hodgepiles neck and Ianasked me what to do with the rest? I said, Kill them all.

I was there. He had been. And he didnt want to go back. Three words and itwas all there, just below the surface of memory, still cold in his bones: black nightin the forest, a sear of fire across his eyes, chilling wind and the smell of blood. Thedrumsa _bodhran_ thundering against his arm, two more behind him. Screamingin the dark. The sudden shine of eyes and the stomach-clenching feel of a skullcaving in.

I killed one of them, he said abruptly. Did you know that?Jamie hadnt looked away and didnt now; his mouth compressed for a

moment, and he nodded.I didna see ye do it, he said. But it was plain enough in your face, next day.I dont wonder. Rogers throat was tight and the words came out thick and

gruff. He was surprised that Jamie had noticedhad noticed anything at all onthat day other than Claire, once the fighting was over. The image of her, kneelingby a creek, setting her own broken nose by her reflection in the water, the bloodstreaking down over her bruised and naked body, came back to him with the forceof a punch in the solar plexus.

Ye never ken how it will be. Jamie lifted one shoulder and let it fall; hed lostthe lace that bound his hair, snagged by a tree branch, and the thick red strandsstirred in the evening breeze. A fight like that, I mean. What ye recall and what yedont. I remember everything about that night, thoughand the day beyond it.

Roger nodded, but didnt speak. It was true that Presbyterians had nosacrament of Confessionand he rather regretted that they didnt; it was a usefulthing to have in your pocket. Particularly, he supposed, if you led the sort of lifeJamie had. But any minister knows the souls need to speak and be understood,and that he could give.

I expect ye do, he said. Do ye regret it, then? Telling the men to kill them all,I mean.

Not for an instant. Jamie gave him a brief, fierce glance. Do ye regret yourpart of it?

I Roger stopped abruptly. It wasnt as though he hadnt thought about it,but I regret that I had to, he said carefully. Very much. But Im sure in myown mind that I did have to.

Jamies breath came out in a sigh.Yell know Claire was raped, I expect. It wasnt a question, but Roger

nodded. Claire hadnt spoken of it, even to Briannabut she hadnt had to.The man who did it wasna killed, that night. She saw him alive last month, at

Beardsleys.The evening breeze had turned chilly, but that wasnt what raised the hairs on

Rogers forearms. Jamie was a man of precise speechand hed started thisconversation with the word confession. Roger took his time about replying.

Im thinking that yere not asking my opinion of what ye should do about it.Jamie sat silent for a moment, dark against the blazing sky.No, he said softly. Im not.Grand-da! Look! Jem and Germain were scrambling over the rocks and

brush, each with a string of shimmering trout, dripping dark streaks of blood andwater down the boys breeks, the swaying fish gleaming bronze and silver in thelast of the evening light.

Roger turned back from the boys in time to see the flicker of Jamies eye as heglanced round at the boys, the sudden light on his face catching a troubled, inwardlook that vanished in an instant as he smiled and raised a hand to his grandsons,reaching out to admire their catch.

_Jesus Christ_, Roger thought. He felt as though an electric wire had runthrough his chest for an instant, small and sizzling. _He was wondering if theywere old enough yet. To know about things like this._

We decided we got six each, Jemmy was explaining, proudly holding up hisstring and turning it so his father and grandfather could appreciate the size andbeauty of his catch.

And these are Fannys, Germain said, lifting a smaller string on which threeplump trout dangled. We decided shed ha caught some, if she was here.

That was a kind thought, lads, Jamie said, smiling. Im sure the lassie will

appreciate it.Mmphm, said Germain, though he frowned a little. Will she still be able to

come fishin with us, Grand-pere? Mrs. Wilson said she wouldnt, now shes awoman.

Jemmy made a disgusted noise and elbowed Germain. Dinna be daft, hesaid. My mams a woman and she goes fishin. She hunts, too, aye?

Germain nodded, but looked unconvinced.Aye, she does, he admitted. Mr. Crombie doesna like it, though, and neither

does Heron.Heron? Roger said, surprised. Hiram Crombie was under the impression that

women should cook, clean, spin, sew, mind children, feed stock and keep quietsave when praying. But Standing Heron Bradshaw was a Cherokee whod marriedone of the Moravian girls from Salem, and settled on the other side of the Ridge.Why? The Cherokee women plant their own crops and Im sure Ive seen themcatching fish with nets and fish-traps by the fields.

Heron didna say about catching fish, Jem explained. He says women cannahunt, though, because they stink o blood, and it drives the game away.

Well, thats true, Jamie said, to Rogers surprise. But only when theyve gottheir courses. And even so, if she stays downwind

Would a woman who smells o blood not draw bears or painters? Germainasked. He looked a little worried at the thought.

Probably not, Roger said dryly, hoping he was right. And if I were you, Iwouldnt suggest any such thing to your Auntie. She might take it amiss.

Jamie made a small, amused sound and shooed the boys.Get on wi ye, lads. Weve a few things yet to talk of. Tell your grannie well

be in time for supper, aye?They waited, watching til the boys were safely out of hearing. The breeze had

died away now and the last slow rings on the water spread and flattened,disappearing into the gathering shadows. Tiny flies began to fill the air, survivorsof the hatch.

Ye did it, then? Roger asked. He was wary of the answer; what if it wasntdone, and Jamie wished his help in the matter?

But Jamie nodded, his broad shoulders relaxing.Claire didna tell me about it, ken. I saw at once that something was troubling

her, o course A thread of rueful amusement tinged his voice; Claires glass

face was famous. But when I told her so, she asked me to let it bide, and give hertime to think.

Did you?No. The amusement had gone. I saw it was a serious thing. I asked my

sister; she told me. She was wi Claire at Beardsleys, aye? She saw the fellow, too,and wormed it out of Claire what the matter was.

Claire said to mewhen I made it clear I kent what was going onthat it wasall right; she was trying to forgive the bastard. And thought she was makinprogress with it. Mostly. Jamies voice was matter-of-fact, but Roger thought heheard an edge of regret in it.

Do youfeel that you should have let her deal with it? It _is_ aa process, toforgive. Not a single act, I mean. He felt remarkably awkward, and coughed toclear his throat.

I ken that, Jamie said, in a voice dry as sand. Few men ken it better.A hot flush of embarrassment burned its way up Rogers chest and into his

neck. He could feel it take him by the throat, and couldnt speak at all for amoment.

Aye, Jamie said, after a moment. Aye, its a point. But I think its maybeeasier to forgive a dead man than one whos walkin about under your nose. Andcome to that, I thought shed have an easier time forgiving me than him. He liftedone shoulder and let it fall. Andwhether she could bear the thought of the manliving near us or notI couldnt.

Roger made a small sound of acknowledgment; there seemed nothing elseuseful to say.

Jamie didnt move, or speak. He sat with his head slightly turned away, lookingout over the water, where a fugitive light glimmered over the breeze-touchedsurface.

It was maybe the worst thing Ive ever done, he said at last, very quietly.Morally, do you mean? Roger asked, his own voice carefully neutral. Jamies

head turned toward him, and Roger caught a blue flash of surprise as the last ofthe sun touched the side of his face.

Och, no, his father-in-law said at once. Only hard to do. Aye. Roger let the silence settle again, waiting. He could feel Jamie thinking,

though the man didnt move. Did he need to tell it to someone, re-live it and thusease his soul by full confession? He felt in himself a terrible curiosity, and at thesame time, a desperate wish not to hear. He drew breath and spoke abruptly.

I told Brianna. That Id killed Bobleand how. Maybe I shouldnt have.Jamies face was completely in shadow, but Roger could feel those blue eyes on

own face, fully lit by the setting sun. With an effort, he didnt look down.Aye? Jamie said, his voice calm, but definitely curious. What did she say to

ye? If ye dinna mind telling me, I mean.Iwell. To tell the truth, the only thing I remember for sure is that she said, I

love you. That was the only thing hed heard, through the echo of drums and thedrumming of his own pulse in his ears. Hed told her kneeling, his head in her lap.Shed kept on saying it then; I love you, her arms wrapping his shoulders,sheltering him with the fall of her hair, absolving him with her tears.

For a moment, he was back inside that memory, and came to himself with astart, realizing that Jamie had said something.

What did you say?I saidand how is it Presbyterians dinna think marriage is a sacrament?

#DailyLines #BookNine #HealingTouch #ParentalTheology#NOitsnotfinished #Ittakesalongtime#Yougotabooklastyearforheavenssake

Does my touch feel warm to you now? It should, I thought; his skin was coolfrom the evaporation of shaving.

Yes, he said, not opening his eyes. But its on the outside. It was on theinside when MacEwandid what he did. His dark brows drew together inconcentration. ItI felt ithere Reaching up, he moved my thumb to rest justto the right of center, directly beneath the hyoid. And.here. His eyes opened insurprise, and he pressed two fingers to the flesh above his collarbone, an inch ortwo to the left of the suprasternal notch. How odd; I hadnt remembered that.

And he touched you there, as well? I moved my lower fingers down and feltthe quickening of my senses that often happened when I was fully engaged with apatients body. Roger felt it, toohis eyes flashed to mine, startled.

What--? he began, but before either of us could speak further, there was ahigh-pitched yowl outside. This was instantly followed by a confusion of youngvoices, more yowling, then a voice immediately identifiable as Mandy in a passion,bellowing, Youre bad, youre bad, youre _bad_ and I hate you! Youre bad andyouse going to HELL!

Roger leapt to his feet and thrust aside the makeshift gauze screen that coveredthe window.

Amanda! he bellowed. Come in here right now! Over his shoulder, I sawAmanda, face contorted with rage, trying to grab her doll, Esmeralda, whichGermain was dangling by one arm, just above her head, dancing to keep awayfrom Amandas concerted attempts to kick him.

Startled, Germain looked up, and Amanda connected full-force with his shin.She was wearing the stout half-boots Jamie had bought for her from the cobbler inSalem, and the crack of impact was clearly audible, though instantly supercededby Germains cry of pain. Jemmy, looking appalled, grabbed Esmeralda, thrust herinto Amandas arms, and with a guilty glance over his shoulder, ran for the woods,followed by a hobbling Germain.

Jeremiah! Roger roared. Stop right there! Jem froze as though hit by adeath-ray; Germain didnt, and vanished with a wild rustling into the shrubbery.

Id been watching the boys, but a faint choking noise made me glance sharplyat Roger. Hed gone pale, and was clutching his throat with both hands. I seizedhis arm.

Are you all right?Idont know. He spoke in a rasping whisper, but gave me the shadow of a

pained smile. Think Imight have sprained something.Daddy? said a small voice from the doorway. Amanda sniffled dramatically,

wiping tears and snot all over her face. Is you mad at me, Daddy?Roger took an immense breath, coughed, and went over, squatting down to

take her in his arms.No, sweetheart, he said softlybut in a fairly normal voice, and something

clenched inside me began to relax. Im not mad. You mustnt tell people theyregoing to hell, though. Come here, lets wash your face.

#DailyLines #BookNine #WilliamByPopularRequest#YouCantGoHomeAgain #ButIfYouDoTheyHaveToFeedYou#MountJosiah #SPOILERS #YouHaveBeenWarned

William carried his pistol loaded, but not primed in case of accident. He tookan instant to prime it now, thrusting it back into its holster before walking aroundthe corner of the house.

It _was_ Indiansor one, at least. A half-naked man squatted in the shade of ahuge beech tree, tending a small firepit covered with damp burlap; William couldsmell the sharp scent of fresh-cut hickory logs, mingled with the tang of blood andchar. The Indianhe looked young, though large and very muscular--had his backto William and was deftly stripping the carcass of a small hog, slicing off raggedstrips of meat and tossing them into a pile on a flattened burlap sack that laybeside the fire.

Hallo, there, William said, raising his voice. The man looked round, blinkingagainst the smoke and waving it out of his face. He rose slowly, the knife hedbeen using still in his hand, but William had spoken pleasantly enough, and thestranger wasnt menacing. He also wasnt a stranger. He stepped out of the treesshadow, the sunlight hit his hair, and William felt a jolt of astonished recognition.

So did the young man, by the look on his face.Lieutenant? he said, disbelieving. He looked William quickly up and down,

registering the lack of uniform, and his big dark eyes fixed on Williams face.LieutenantLord Ellesmere?

I used to be. Mr. Cinnamon, isnt it? He couldnt help smiling as he spoke thename, and the others mouth twisted wryly in acknowledgement. The youngmans hair was no more than an inch long, but only shaving it off entirely wouldhave disguised either its distinctive deep reddish-brown color or its exuberantcurliness. A mission orphan, he owed his name to it.

John Cinnamon, yes. Your servantsir. The erstwhile scout gave him apresentable half-bow, though the sir was spoken with something of a question.

William Ransom. Yours, sir, William said, smiling, and thrust out his hand.John Cinnamon was a couple of inches shorter than himself, and a couple of inchesbroader; the scout had grown into himself in the last two years and possessed avery solid hand-shake.

I trust youll pardon my curiosity, Mr. Cinnamonbut how the devil do youcome to be here? William asked, letting go. Hed last seen John Cinnamon twoyears before, in Canada, where hed spent much of a long, cold winter hunting and

trapping in company with the half-Indian scout, who was near his own age.He wondered briefly if Cinnamon had come in search of him, but that was

absurd. He didnt think hed ever mentioned Mount Josiah to the manand evenif he had, Cinnamon couldnt possibly have expected to find him here.

Ah. To Williams surprise, a slow flush washed Cinnamons broadcheekbones. IerIwell, Im on my way south. The flush grew deeper.

William cocked an eyebrow. While it was true that Virginia was south ofQuebec and that there was a good deal of country souther still, Mount Josiahwasnt on the way to anywhere. No roads led here. He had himself come upriveron a barge, then obtained a small canoe in Richmond and paddled on above theBreaks, that stretch of falls and turbulent water where the land suddenly collapsedupon itself. Hed seen perhaps three people during his time above the Breaksallof them headed the other way.

Suddenly, though, Cinnamons wide shoulders relaxed and the look ofwariness was erased by relief.

In fact, I came to see my friend, he said, and nodded toward the house.William turned quickly, to see another Indian picking his way through theraspberry brambles littering what used to be a small croquet lawn.

Manoke! he said. Then shouted Manoke!, making the older man look up.The older Indians face lighted with joy, and a sudden uncomplicated happinesswashed through Williams heart, cleansing as spring rain.

The Indian was lithe and spare as hed always been, his face a little more lined.His hair smelt of woodsmoke when William embraced him, and the gray in it wasthe same soft color, but it was still thick and coarse as everhe could see thateasily; he was looking down on it from above, Manokes cheek pressed into hisshoulder.

What did you say? he asked, releasing Manoke.I said, My, how you have grown, boy, Manoke said, grinning up at him. Do

you need food?

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[Here are Jamie and Jenny in a meadow above the Big House. Theyve beenhaving a serious conversation about all kinds of things, but Jenny had mentionedbringing her rosary because she liked to pray while watching her goats.]

They sat for a little while, not speaking. The sun had come well above thetreetops by now, and while the air was still fresh and sweet, there was no longerany chill in it.

Aye, well, he said, at last, standing up. Do ye still want to pray? For shestill held the pearl rosary, dangling from one hand. He didnt wait for her reply,but reaching into his shirt and drew out the wooden rosary that he wore about hisneck.

Oh, yeve got your beads after all, she said, surprised. Ye didna have yourrosary in Scotland, so I thought yed lost it. Meant to make ye a new one, but therewasna time, what with Ian She lifted one shoulder, the gesture encompassingthe whole of the terrible months of Ians long dying.

He touched the beads, self-conscious. Aye, wellI had, in a way of speaking.Igave it to William. When he was a wee lad, and I had to leave him at Helwater.I gave him the beads for something to keeptoremember me by.

Mmphm. She looked at him with sympathy. Aye. And I expect he gavethem back to ye in Philadelphia, did he?

He did, Jamie said, a bit terse, and a wry amusement touched Jennys face.Tell ye one thing, _a brathair_hes no going to forget you.Aye, maybe not, he said, feeling an unexpected comfort in the thought.

Well, then He let the beads run through his fingers, taking hold of the crucifix.I believe in one God

They said the Creed together, and the three Hail Marys and the Glory Be.Joyful or Glorious? he asked, fingers on the first bead of the decades. He

didnt want to do the Sorrowful Mysteries, the ones about suffering andcrucifixion, and he didnt think she did, either. A raven called from the maples,and he wondered briefly if it was one theyd already seen, or a third. _Three for awedding, four for a death_

Joyful, she said at once. The Annunciation. Then she paused, and noddedat him to take the first turn. He didnt have to think.

For Murtagh, he said quietly, and his fingers tightened on the bead. AndMam and Da. Hail Mary, full o grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thouamongst women and blest is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of ourdeath, Amen. Jenny finished the prayer and they said the rest of the decade intheir usual way, back and forth, the rhythm of their voices soft as the rustle ofgrass.

They reached the second decade, the Visitation, and he nodded at Jennyherturn.

For Ian g, she said softly, eyes on her beads. And Ian Mr. Hail Mary.The third decade was Williams. Jenny glanced at him when he said so, but only

nodded and bent her head.He didnt try to avoid thinking of William, but he didnt deliberately call the lad

to mind, either; there was nothing he could do to help, until or unless Williamasked for it, and it would do neither of them good to worry about what the ladwas doing, or what might be happening to him.

Buthed said William, and for the space of an Our Father, ten Hail Marysand a Glory Be, William must perforce be in his mind.

_Guide him_, he thought, between the words of the prayer. _Give him goodjudgment. Help him to be a good man. Show him his wayand Holy Motherkeep him safe, for your own Sons sake_ world without end, Amen, he said,reaching the final bead.

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I was somewhere deeper than dreams, and came to the surface like a fishhauled out of water, thrashing and flapping.

Whug I couldnt remember where I was, who I was, or how to speak. Thenthe noise that had roused me came again, and every hair on my body stood onend.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Words and sense came back in a rush and I flungout both hands, groping for some physical anchor.

Sheets. Mattress. Bed. I was in bed. But no Jamie, empty space beside me. Iblinked like an owl, turning my head in search of him. He was standing naked atthe window, bathed in moonlight. His fists were clenched and every muscle visibleunder his skin.

Jamie! He didnt turn, or seem to heareither my voice, or the thump andagitation of other people in the house, also roused by the howling outside. I couldhear Mandy starting to wail in fear, and her parents voices running into each otherin the rush to comfort her.

I got out of bed, and came up cautiously beside Jamie, though what I reallywanted to do was dive under the covers and pull the pillow over my head. That_noise_ I peered past his shoulder, but bright as the moonlight was, it showednothing in the clearing before the house that shouldnt be there. Coming from thewood, maybe; trees and mountain were an impenetrable slab of black.

Jamie, I said, more calmly, and wrapped a hand firmly round his forearm.What is it, do you think? Wolves? A wolf, I mean? I _hoped_ there was only oneof whatever was making that sound.

He started at the touch, swung round to see me and shook his head hard,trying to shake offsomething.

I he began, voice hoarse with sleep, and then he simply put his armsaround me and drew me against him. I thought it was a dream. I could feel himtrembling a little, and held him as hard as I could. Sinister Celtic words like _ban-sidhe_ and _tannasq_ were fluttering round my head, whispering in my ear.Custom said that a _ban-sidhe_ howled on the roof when someone in the housewas about to die. Wellit wasnt on the bloody roof, at least

Are your dreams usually that loud? I asked, wincing at a fresh ululation. Hehadnt been out of bed long; his skin was cool, but not chilled.

Aye. Sometimes. He gave a small, breathless laugh, and let go of me. Athunder of small feet came down the hallway, and I hastily flung myself back intohis arms as the door burst open and Jem rushed in, Fanny right behind him.

Grand-da! Theres a wolf outside! Itll eat the piggies!Fanny gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes round with horror. Not at

thought of the piglets imminent demise, but at the realization that Jamie wasnaked. I was shielding as much of him from view as I could with my nightgown,but there wasnt a great deal of nightgown and there was a great deal of Jamie.

Go back to bed, sweetheart, I said, as calmly as possible. If its a wolf, Mr.Fraser will deal with it.

_Moran taing, Sassenach_, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth._Thanks a lot_. Jem, throw me my plaid, aye?

Jem, to whom a naked grandfather was a routine sight, fetched the plaid fromits hook by the door.

Can I come and help kill the wolf? he asked hopefully. I could shoot it. Imbetter than Da, he says so!

Its no a wolf, Jamie said briefly, swathing his loins in faded tartan. The twoof ye go and tell Mandy its all right, before she brings the roof down about ourears. The howling had grown louder, and so had Mandys, in hysterical response.From the look on her face, Fanny was all set to join them.

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