The Fiery Cross by Diana Gabaldon

I caught a glimpse of firelight shining on the bones of his face, and then his expression changed in an instant, from wariness to horror. He lunged to his feet, mouth open.

"STOKH!" he roared.

It was a terrible cry, loud and harsh, but with a ghastly strangled quality to it, like a shout forced out around a fist shoved down his throat. It froze everyone

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in earshot-including Jemmy, who had abandoned the fireflies and stealthily returned to an investigation of the coffeepot. He stared up at his father, his hand six inches from the hot metal. Then his face crumpled, and he began to wail in fright. I

Roger reached across the fire and snatched him up; the little boy screamed, kicking and squirming to get away from this terrifying stranger. Bree hastily Ilook him, clutching him to her bosom and burying his face in her shoulder. ,"Her own face had gone pale with shock.

Roger looked shocked, too. He put a hand to his throat, gingerly, as though Unsure he was really touching his own flesh. The ridge of the rope-scar was still

4ark under his jaw; I could see it, even in the flicker of the firelight, along with the smaller, neater line of my own incision.

The initial shock of his shout had worn off, and the men came scrambling out from under the tree, the Findlays rushing in from the road, to gather round ;,#mger, exclaiming in astonishment and congratulation. Roger nodded, submitJing to having his hand shaken and his back pounded, all the while looking as Ahough he would strongly prefer to be elsewhere.

"Say somethin' else," Hugh Findlay coaxed him.

"Yes, sir, you can do it," fain joined in, round face beaming. "Say ... say

4she sells sea shells, by the sea- shore!"'

- This suggestion was howled down, to be replaced by a rain of other excited proposals. Roger was beginning to look rather desperate, his jaw set tight. Jamie and I had got to our feet; I could feel Jamie setting himself to intervene

4a some way.

Then Brianna pushed her way through the excited throng, with Jemmy perched on one hip, regarding the proceedings with intense distrust. She took 'fLoger's hand with her free one, and smiled at him, the smile trembling only a little round the edges.

.:, " "Can you say my name?" she asked.

i Roger's smile matched hers. I could hear the air rasp in his throat as he took a breath.

1 This time he spoke softly; very softly, but everyone held silence, leaning forWard to listen. It was a ragged whisper, thick and painful, the first syllable punched hard to force it through his scarred vocal cords, the last of it barely audible. But,

BRREEah ... nah," he said, and she burst into tears.



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BLOOD MONEY

FrawrlsAidge June, 1771

SAT IN THE VISITOR'S CHAIR in Jamie's study, companionably grating bloodroots while he wrestled with the quarterly accounts Both were slow and tedious businesses, but we could share the light of a* single

candle and enjoy each other's cOmpany-and I found enjoyable distraction in listening to the highly inventive remarks he addressed to the paper under his quill.

"Egg-sucking son of a porcupine!" he muttered. "Look at this, Sassenachthe man's nay more than a common thiefl Two shillings, threepence for two loaves of sugar and a brick of indigo!"

I clicked my tongue sympathetically, forebearing to note that two shillings seemed a modest enough price for substances produced in the West Indies, transported by ship to Charleston, and thence carried by wagon, pirogue, horseback and foot another several hundred miles overland, to be finally brought to our door by an itinerant peddler who did not expect payment for the three or four months until his next visit-and who would in any case likely not get cash, but rather six Pots of gooseberry jam or a haunch of smoked venison.

"Look at that!" Jamie said rhetorically, scratching his way down a column of figures and arriving with a vicious stab at the bottom. "A cask of brandywine at twelve shillings, two bolts of muslin at three and ten each ironmongery-what in the name of buggery is wee Roger wanting wil an'ironmonger, has he thought of a way to play tunes on a hoe?

-ironmongery, ten and six!"

"I believe that was a ploughshare," I said pacifically. "It's not ours; Roger brought it for Geordie Chisholm.' Ploughshares were in fact rather expensive. Having to be imported from England, they were rare amongst colo sm I farmers, nial al

many of whom made do with nothing more than wooden dibbles and spades, with an ax and perhaps an iron hoe for ground-clearing.

Jamie squinted balefully at his figures, rumpling a hand through his hair. "Aye," he said. "Only Geordie hasna got a spare penny to bless himself with, not until next year's crops are sold. So it's me that's paying the ten and six now, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, he plunged back into his calculations, muttering "Turd-eating son of a flying tortoise," under his breath, with no indication whether this applied to Roger, Geordie, or the ploughshare.

I finished grating a root and dropped the stub into a jar on the desk. Blood-

'root is aptly named; the scientific name is Sanguinaria, and the juice is red, acrid and sticky. The bowl in my lap was full of oozy, moist shavings, and my 'hands looked as though I had been disemboweling small animals.

"I have six dozen bottles of cherry cordial made," I offered, picking up another root. As though he didn't know that; the whole house had smelled like ough syrup for a week. "Fergus can take those over to Salem and sell them." Jamie nodded absently.

"Aye, I'm counting on that to buy seedcorn. Have we anything else that can go to Salem? Candles? Honey?"

I gave him a sharp glance, but encountered only the whorled cowlicks on 'pop of his head, bent studiously over his figures. The candies and honey were a pensitive subject.

"1 think I can spare ten gallons of honey," I said guardedly. "Perhaps tenWell, all right, twelve dozen candles."

He scratched the tip of his nose with the end of the quill, leaving a blot of ink.

"I thought ye'd had a good year wi' the hives," he said mildly.

I had; my original single hive had expanded, and I now had nine bee-gums bordering my garden. I had taken nearly fifty gallons of honey from them, and enough beeswax for a good thirty dozen candles. On the other hand, I had uses in mind for those things.

"I need some of the honey for the surgery," I said. "It makes a good antibacterial dressing over wounds."

One eyebrow went up, though he kept his eyes on the hen-scratches he was making.

I "I should think it would draw flies," he said, "if not bears." He flicked the end of his quill, dismissing the thought. "How much d'ye need then? I shouldna think you've so many wounded coming through your surgery as to require forty gallons of honey-unless you're plastering them with it, head to toe."

I laughed, despite my wariness.

"No, two or three gallons should be enough for dressings-say five, allowing extra to make up electrolytic fluids."

He glanced up at me, both brows raised.

"Electric?" He looked at the candle, its flame wavering in the draft from the window, then back at me. "Did Brianna not say that was something to do wi' lights? Or lightning, at least?"

"No, electrolyte," I amplified. "Sugar-water. You know, when a person is feeling shocked, or is too ill to eat, or has the flux-an electrolytic fluid is one that supports the body by putting back the essential ions they've lost from bleeding or diarrhea-the bits of salt and sugar and other things-which in turn draws water into the blood and restores blood pressure. You've seen me use it before."

"Oh, is that how it works?" His face lighted with interest, and he seemed about to ask for' an explanation. Then he caught sight of the stack of receipts and correspondence still waiting on his desk, sighed, and picked up his quill again.

"Verra well, then," he conceded. "Keep the honey. Can I sell the soap?"



666 Diana Gabaldon

1 nodded, pleased. I had, with a good deal of cautious experimentation, succeeded at last in producing a soap that did not smell like a dead pig soaked in lye, and that did not remove the upper layer of the epidermis. It required sunflower oil or olive oil in lieu of suet, though; both very expensive.

I had it in mind to trade my spare honey to the Cherokee ladies for sunflower oil with which to make both more soap and shampoo, Those, in turn, would fetch excellent prices almost anywhere-Cross Creek, Wilmington, New Bern--even Charleston, should we ever venture that far. Or so I thought. I was unsure whether Jamie would agree to gamble on that enterprise, though; it would take months to come to fruition, while he could dispose of the honey at an immediate profit. If he saw for sure that the soap would bring much more than the raw honey, though, there would be no difficulty in getting my way.

Before I could expound on the prospects, we heard the sound of light footsteps in the hall, and a soft rap at the door.

"Come," Jamie called, pulling himself up straight. Mr. Wemyss poked his head into the room, but hesitated, looking mildly alarmed at the sight of the sanguinary splotches on my hands. Jamie beckoned him companionably in with a flick of his quill.

"Aye, Joseph?"

"If I might speak a word in your car, sit?" Mr. Wemyss was dressed casually, in shirt and brecks, but had slicked down his fine, pale hair with water, indicating some formality about the situation.

I pushed back my chair, reaching to gather up my leavings, but Mr. Wemyss stopped me with a brief gesture.

"Oh, no, Ma'am. If ye wouldna mind, I should like ye to stay. It's about Lizzie, and I should value a woman's opinion on the matter."

"Of course." I sat back, brows raised in curiosity.

"Lizzie? Have ye found our wee lass a husband, then, Joseph?" Jamie dropped his quill into the jar on his desk and sat forward, interested, gesturing toward an empty stool.

Mr. Wernyss nodded, the candlelight throwing the bones of his thin face into rominence. He took the proffered seat with a certain air of dignity, quite at P

odds with his usual attitude of mild discombobulation.

"I am thinking so, Mr. Fraser. Robin McGillivray came to call upon me this morning, to speir for my Elizabeth, to be pledged to his lad, Manfred." My eyebrows went a little higher. To the best of my knowledge, Manfted

McGillivray had seen Lizzie less than half a dozen times, and had not spoken more than the briefest of courtesies to her. It wasn't impossible that he should have been attracted; Lizzie had grown into a delicately pretty girt, and if still very shy, was possessed of nice manners. It scarcely seemed the basis for a proposal of marriage, though,

As Mr. Wemyss )aid out the matter, it became a litt

le clearer. Jamie had promised Lizzie a dowry, consisting of a section of prime land, and Mr. Wemyss, freed from his indenture, had a freeman's homestead claim of fifty acres as well-to which Lizzie was heir. The Wernyss land adjoined the McGillivray's section, and the two together would make a very respectable farm. Evidently, with her three girls now married or suitably engaged, Manfred's marriage was

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next step in Ute McGillivray's master plan, Reviewing all of the available within a twenty-mile radius of the Ridge, she had settled upon Lizzie as best prospect, and sent Robin round to open negotiations.

"Well, the McGillivrays are a decent family," Jamie said j it thoughtfully ed a finger into my bowl of blood-root shavings and dottedudiciously. He his blotter, leaving a chain of red fingerprints. "They've not much land, but in does well enough for himself, and wee Manfred's a hard worker, from all

ear." Robin was a gunsmith, with a small shop in Cross Creek. Manfred had n apprenticed to another gun-maker in Hillsborough, but was now a Jouran himself. Isborough?" I asked. That might weigh

ttWould he take her to live in Hit e his daugh. with Joseph Wemyss. While he would do anything to insur d strike is future, he loved Lizzie dearly, and I knew that the loss of her woul

to the heart.

He shook his head. His hair had dried, and was beginning to rise in its usual wisps.

-Robin says not. He says the lad plans to Ply his trade in Woolam's Creek, . .ng he can manage a wee shop* They'd live at the farm." He darted a odeways glance -at Jamie, then looked away, blood rising under his fair skin.

Jamie bent his head, and I saw the corner of his mouth tuck in. So this was where he entered the, negotiation) then. Wootarn's Creek was a small but grow ing settlement at the base of Fraser's Ridge. While the Woolams) a local Quaker Amily, owned the mill there, and the land on the far side of the creek, Jamie d all of the land on the Ridge side -

owne so far provided land, tools, and Supplies to Ronnie Sinclair, Theo :, He had or the building of a Cooper's shop, a smithy-still unFrye, and Bob O'Neill, f eral store, all on terms that provided us with der construction-and a small gen o immediate income.

".1an eventual share of any profit, but nire so did Ute McGillivray. She knew, of

1, if Jamie and I had plans for the fat, , at esteem with Jamie, and course, that Lizzie and her father held a place Of SPI-ci d for her. And that lie would in all likelihood be moved to do what he coul

that-of course-was what Joseph WernYss was very delicately asking now; es for Manfred at Woolam's Creek as part of the inight Jamie provide premis

agreement? Jamie glanced at me out Of the Corner of his eye. I lifted one shoulder in the wondering whether Lizzie's physic-at delicacy had entered

faintest of shrugs, ulations. There were a good many girls sturdier than into Ute McGillivray's calc erhood. Still, if Lizzie should die in childLizzie, and better prospects for moth

birth, then the McGillivraYs would be the richer both for her dower-land, and the Woolam's Creek property-and newAives were not so difficult to Come by. "I expect something might be done," Jamie said cautiously. I saw his gaze

depressing columns of figures, then speculaledger, with its -dit drift to the open t a problem; with no cash and Precious little cre tively to me, Land was no ed my lips and returned his stare; no, he tools and materials would be. I firm

was not getting his hands on my honey! fingers lightly on the blotter. He sighed, and sat back, tapping his red-tinged n) Will she have Manfte&" "I'll manage," he said. "What does the lass say, th

Mr. Wemyss looked faintly dubious.



668 Diana Gabaldon

"She says she will. He's a nice enough lad, though his mother ... a fine woman," he added hurriedly, "verra fine. If just a trifle ... erhm. But ... " he turned to me, narrow forehead furrowed. '61 am not sure Elizabeth knows her mind, ma'am,

to say truly. She kens 'twould be a good match, and that it would keep her near me .

- ." His expression softened at the thought, then firmed again. "But I wouldna have her make the match only because she thinks I favor it." He glanced shyly at Jamie, then at me.

"I did love her mother so," he said, the words coming out in a rush, as though confessing some shameful secret. He blushed bright pink, and looked down at the thin hands he had twisted together in his lap.

"I see," I said, tactfully averting my own gaze, and brushing a f

ew bits of stray bloodroot off the desk. "Would you like me to talk to her?"

"Oh, I should be most grateful, Murnp, Lightened by relief, he nearly sprang to his feet. He wrang Jamie's hand fervently, bowed repeatedly to me, and at last made his way out, with much bobbing and murmuring of thanks.

The door closed behind him, and Jamie sighed, shaking his head. "Christ knows it's trouble enough to get daughters married when the ken their own minds," he said darkly, plainly thinking of Brianna and Ma y do "Maybe it's easier if they don't." rsali..

THE SINGLE CANDLE was guttering, casting flickering shadows over the room. I got up and went to the shelf where a few fresh ones lay. To my surprise, Jamie got up and came to join me. He reached past the assortment of halfburned tapers and fresh candles, pulling out the squat clock-candle that sat behind them, hidden in the shadows.

He set it on the desk, and used one of the tapers to light it. The Nick was already blackened; the candle had been used bef though it wasn't burned ore,

down very far. He looked at me, and I went quietly to shut the door.

"Do you think it's time?" I asked softly, moving back to stand beside him. He shook his head, but didn't answer. He sat back a little in his chair, hands folded in his lap, watching the flame of the clock-candle take hold and swell into a wavering light.

Jamie sighed and put out a hand to turn his account

-book toward me. 1 could see the state of our aff

airs laid out there in black and white---disnial, so far as cash went.

Very little business in the Colony was done on a cash basis

-virtually none, west of Asheville. The mountain homesteaders all dealt in barter, and so far as that went, we managed fairly well. We had milk, butter, and cheese to trade potatoes and grain, Pork and venison, f

resh vegetables and dried fruit, a little wine made f

rom the scuppernong grapes of the autumn past. We had hay and timber-though so did everyone else-and my honey and beeswax. And above everything else, we had Jamie's whisky.

That was a limited resource, though. We had fifteen acres in new barley, which-bar hailstones, f

orest fires, and other Acts of God-wou d eventually be made into nearly a hundred kegs Of whisky which could be s

old or traded

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1for quite a lot, even completely raw and unaged. The barley was still green in ,the field, though, and the whisky no more than a profitable phantom.

,, In the meantime, we had used or sold almost all the spirit on hand. True, :

en small kegs of spirit remaining-buried in a small cave above re were fourte

the whisky-spring-but that couldn't be used. From each distilling, Jamie put *ide two kegs, to be religiously kept for aging. The eldest barrel in this cache lmw only two years old; it would stay there for ten more, God willing, to ;.Xmerge as liquid gold-and almost as valuable as the solid kind.

emands were not going to wait ten years, though. "'; . The immediate financial d

5Bcyoncl the possibility of a gunsmith's shop for Manfred McGillivray and a modest dowry for Lizzie, there were the normal expenses of farming, livestock

4,inaintenance, and an ambitious plan to provide ploughshares to every tenant-

1- Many of whom were still tilling by hand.

tW And beyond our own expenses, there was one very burdensome obligation. (Bloody Laoghaire MacKenzie damn-her-eyes Fraser.

She wasn't precisely an ex-wife-but she wasn't precisely not an ex-wife, tly gone, if not actually dead, Jamie had married Thinking me permanen

her, under the prodding of his sister Jenny. The marriage had rather quickly Proved to be a mistake, and upon my reappearance, an annulment had been ,sought, to the relief-more or less--of all parties.

Generous to a fault, though, Jamie had agreed to pay a large sum to her in innual maintenance, plus a dowry to each of her daughters. Marsali's dowry was being paid gradually, in land and whisky, and there was no news of Joan's impending marriage. But the money to keep Laoghaire in whatever style she kept in Scotland was falling due-and we didn't have it.

I glanced at Jamie, who was brooding, eyes half-closed over his long, straight nose. I didn't bother suggesting that we allow Laoghaire to put in for a gaberlunzie badge and go begging through the parish. No matter what he thought of the woman personally, he considered her his responsibility, and that was that.

I supposed that paying the debt in casks of salt fish and lye-soap was not a Suitable option, either. That left us three alternatives: We could sell the whisky from the cache, though that would be a great loss in the long term. We could borrow money from Jocasta; possible, but highly distasteful. Or we could sell

r a jewel. mething else. Several horses, for instance. A large number of pigs. 0

The candle was burning strongly, and the wax around the wick had melted. "t, f molten wax, I could see them: three Looking down into the clear puddle o