Jamie sincerely hoped not; Bobby had been a soldier, but was no hunter, and in his grief and distraction might easily get himself or someone else killed. And there were the little lads to think of. But he said, “If he feels he must, then he shall. But I hope he will not.” Roger had taken Bobby, looking completely destroyed, back to the Higgins cabin.

He set the bucket on the well coping and laid a hand on Aidan’s shoulder again; it was firmer now, and the bairn’s chin had stopped quivering.

“Come on, then,” he said. “We’ll fetch my rifle and set things in order. Ian Òg and Mr. MacMillan will be here soon.”

“GO,” I SAID to Bree, but more gently. I came and took the sheet that she was still clutching, set it down, and put my arms around her.

“I understand,” I said quietly. “She’s your friend, and you want to do what you still can do for her. And you don’t know why it’s her lying there and you standing here, still alive, and everything’s come apart at the seams.”

She made a small sound of assent and caught her breath in a sob. She clung tight to me for a moment, then let go. Tears were trembling on her lashes, but she was holding on to herself now, not me.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, straightening up. “I have to do something.”

“Take care of Amy’s children,” I said. “That’s what she’d want you to do, above all things.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together in determination—but then glanced at the still figure on the table, smelling of urine, feces, and the thick reek of torn flesh. Flies were beginning to come through the window; they flew in lazy circles, scenting opportunity, seeking a place to lay their eggs. On the body. It wasn’t Amy anymore, and the flies had come to lay claim to her.

Brianna was nearly as good as Jamie at hiding her feelings when she had to, but she wasn’t hiding anything now, and I saw the fear and anguish underneath the shock. She couldn’t bear to deal with Amy’s shattered body—and so had come to do so. Fraser, I thought, moved by her bravery as much as by her grief.

I picked up the other towel and slapped it on the counter, killing two flies that had been unwary enough to land near me.

“Someone will come,” I repeated. “Go. Take Fanny with you.”

28

Math-ghamhainn

IAN, NOT SURPRISINGLY, APPEARED first, walking in through the open front door. Jamie heard the soft tread of his moccasins a moment before Ian spoke to Claire in the surgery. There was a brief exclamation of shock—Germain would have told him what was to do, but not even a Mohawk would be unmoved by the sight of Amy Higgins’s body—and then his voice dropped in a murmur of respect before the soft tread came on toward the kitchen.