Read Online God's Highlander by E. V. Thompson - Free Book Online

squirming her way out of the narrow shelter. Reaching the entrance, she turned to look back at him. ‘The stream is known as “Ranald’s Lament”. Many years ago, in a storm similar to the one we’ve just had, all the women of a small clan were swept away and drowned while summer-feeding cattle there. Water from most of the peaks on either side of the glen flows down to Loch Eil through that one glen.’
    Wyatt was alarmed. ‘Then, we might already be too late?’

    â€˜Yes.’ Mairi was on her feet now, and Wyatt quickly followed her out into the mist and rain.
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    By the time Wyatt and Mairi reached the glen of Ranald’s Lament the storm had whipped itself to a fury once more. They made slow progress, doubled almost in half, each with an arm crooked before their face to protect eyes from the bruising rain and battling to make progress against the wind.
    The noise all about them was alarming, the wind screaming unintelligible obscenities at the intruders who dared defy its power.
    During brief lulls, when it seemed the wind was gathering its breath for a further onslaught, another sound could be heard: the noise of rushing water.
    Soaked and battered, Wyatt and Mairi eventually reached the shelter of the glen and began a cautious descent from the mountains. The sound of fast-running water was ominously loud here. The booming of tens of thousands of gallons of water cascading from the surrounding peaks and slopes and thundering into the glen below.
    Water poured from every rocky ledge on the steep slopes about Wyatt and Mairi, and somewhere far below it joined to form a river. A great, powerful, surging, foaming, awesome river that carried before it trees, bushes, earth and rocks. Gouging a new wide path on its headlong journey to Loch Eil.
    The rain had driven the mist from the mountains, and Wyatt and Mairi looked in horror at the scene below them.
    â€˜Where was their shelter?’ Mairi asked the question and dreaded the answer she might receive.
    Wyatt shook his head. Nothing looked the same. It would never be the same again. Shaking off his thoughts, he made a determined effort to locate the place where he had last seen the luckless Munro family.
    â€˜It was lower than this, I’m sure. Probably as much as five or six hundred feet farther down the glen.’
    â€˜Then, I don’t fancy their chances of survival. The glen’s a dangerous place after any rain, but I’ve never seen it as bad as this before.’
    In her anguish Mairi screwed up the clothes she and her sister-in-law had made for the youngest Munro children. When she realised what she was doing it seemed for a moment she would throw them away. Instead, she set off down the slope, and Wyatt followed.

    The rain had eased considerably by the time Wyatt called Mairi to a halt.
    â€˜This is where Lachlan had his shelter.’
    The spot was two feet under rushing water, the debris strewn all around and caught between rocks providing clear evidence that the water had been even deeper after the earlier deluge.
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    Mairi wanted to believe Wyatt was wrong – after all, he had visited the spot only once – yet she knew instinctively that Wyatt would not have declared this to be the place unless he was quite certain.
    Mairi stood in the rain, dark hair hanging in long wet tresses about her shoulders and the cheap dress clinging to her body. She looked a picture of despair, and Wyatt’s heart went out to her. Grasping her arm, he said: ‘I’m sorry, Mairi. I wouldn’t have brought you here had I realised what had happened.’
    Wyatt’s genuine sympathy almost broke down the flimsy barrier of self-control Main was trying hard to maintain. She dared not reply.
    Suddenly Wyatt’s grip on her arm tightened. ‘Listen!’
    He had heard a faint sound, almost inaudible above the background thunder of water. It might have been the cry of an eagle,