Page 7 of Highland Storm

“I’m goin’ to be the champion of the caber toss at the Highland Feis this year,” Hawke told him, brushing his hands together to get rid of the dust.

“What did ye say?” asked Bridget as she and her father hurried after the group. “Did I hear ye are the champion of the caber toss?”

“Nay, no’ him. I hold that title,” said Storm proudly.

“Aye, but that is goin’ to change this year,” Hawke told them with confidence.

“Enough of the clishmaclaver,” snorted Ian, throwing his hands in the air. “Grandson, Caleb tells us ye killed off four MacNabs on yer huntin’ trip today. Is this true?”

Storm and Ian stood with their hands on their hips and scowls darkening their faces.

Hawke looked over to Caleb who quickly directed his gaze in the opposite direction. Hawke was planning on telling them about the attack, but was waiting until he had a chance to tell his father without a crowd of people and the chronicler around him.

“Dinna fash yerself,” said Hawke, straightening his green and purple clan plaid as he spoke. “The MacNabs attacked me, and I took care of the situation, that’s all.”

“Ye fool!” spat Ian. “We have been tryin’ to make amends with the MacNabs, no’ cause a bigger rift between us.”

“But the MacNabs have been feudin’ with us ever since I can remember,” Logan told them.

“Aye, but we had plans for an alliance,” Storm told them. “It was almost settled that one of the MacKeefes would be betrothed to the chieftain’s daughter.”

“Humph,” snorted Hawke. “Ye tried an alliance ten years ago and it didna work. I pity the poor man who has to marry the lass.”

“It was supposed to have been ye,” Storm told him, causing Hawke’s head to snap up in surprise.

“Me?” he asked, making a face. “Nay. I dinna want to marry a MacNab ever again. Nay, I tell ye. I dinna want anythin’ to do with them.”

“Ye’re too auld no’ to be married,” his father told him in a low voice. It’s gettin’ to be an embarrassment, Hawke. Every time I try to find ye a lass to wed, ye turn her down.

“I willna go through that again.” When Hawke was only eight and ten years of age, he’d married a girl from the MacNab Clan and it was the worst seven months of his life. The woman ended up dying and because of him, the feud with the MacNabs started up again. Usually, the MacKeefes weren’t a warring clan, but sometimes the pride of Highlanders got in the way and only caused problems.

“What happened today?” asked Ian. “Why did ye kill them?”

“Why?” Hawke shook his head. “I told ye, four of them attacked me in the woods. I killed them in self-defense.”

Ian and Storm exchanged glances. “Son, we ken ye are sometimes a hothead,” said Hawke’s father. “Mayhap ye thought they were attackin’ but they really came in peace.”

“Peace? A MacNab? And with swords drawn?” Hawke shook his head in disbelief. “Listen to yerself, Da. Ye canna really believe that. I might be a hothead at times, but I am no’ daft. They attacked me, I tell ye.”

“Well, did anyone else see the attack?” asked Ian.

“Nay,” Caleb answered for him. “The three of us were off huntin’ in another part of the forest.” He motioned to his friends. “Hawke killed the four men all by himself.”

“So no one was there to witness that it was an attack?” Storm raised a brow.

“Da, are ye sayin’ ye dinna believe me?” Hawke was ready to scream. He felt insulted that his own father and grandfather didn’t believe his words.

“We heard the cry of his hawk and came right away,” said Logan, trying to help him.

“Aye,” added Ethan. “But when we got there, all we saw were four dead bodies and a bluidy sword in Hawke’s hand. Hawke did it all by himself, and a guid thing, too, or he’d be dead. Right Hawke?”

“Stop tryin’ to help,” grumbled Hawke. His friends had good intentions, but were only making matters worse.

“Ye really killed four men all by yerself?” asked Brigham, leaning in and turning his ear toward them as if he didn’t want to miss a word of this.

“Aye,” Hawke said with a small nod.

“That sounds like somethin’ that should go in the Highland Chronicles,” said the man.