Page 1 of Once Upon a Haunted Horn and Hoof

Chapter One

Horn and Hoof Tavern

Glasgow, Scotland, 14 Century

Working for mad old Callum MacKeefe at the Horn and Hoof Tavern wasn’t an easy task. Then again, Keithen was a MacKeefe now, and that alone made it a worthwhile situation.

“Come here,” whispered Callum, his gaze darting around the room. He waggled a boney finger, calling him over. Callum’s long, white hair stuck out in all directions, and his beard reached down to his chest. “I have to tell ye somethin’ but ye must keep it a secret,” he hissed through broken teeth.

The old man grabbed Keithen by the sleeve and pulled him behind the drink board. He really was an odd one, just like everyone had warned Keithen when he took the job here a fortnight ago.

“Aye?” asked Keithen, bending closer, trying to ignore the odor of garlic on the man’s breath. He did not care to know his secret or anything about him, but he tried not to anger Callum since he was known to have an awful temper.

“The Horn and Hoof is haunted,” whispered Callum, almost causing Keithen to laugh aloud. “It’s haunted, but ye canna tell a soul. Do ye understand?”

“Believe me, I willna repeat that!” Chuckling, Keithen picked up a wet rag and headed across the tavern to wipe the tables and join his friends.

“So, brathair, how do ye like yer new life with the MacKeefes, and workin’ in their tavern?” asked his sister, Yvaine who had recently married Cam MacKeefe after the death of her husband, who had been a chandler. Her first marriage had been a living hell, but this time, Yvaine said she was in heaven. It had been nearly a year now since she’d married Cam. Yvaine looked so happy tonight that Keithen swore his sister glowed.

“It’s . . . interestin’.” Keithen glanced back at old Callum standing behind the drink board, ranting about a few drops of his precious Mountain Magic that a customer had spilled. The crazy old loon had a secret recipe for making the strongest whisky in all of Scotland and England combined. He also insisted not a drop be wasted. It was said that many people tried to find out how he made Mountain Magic, but Callum guarded his secret and would go to his grave without divulging that information.

“If by interestin’ ye mean insane, then, aye, we understand.” Cam, Yvaine’s husband, sat next to her at the table with a tankard of Mountain Magic in his grip.

Keithen had once owned his own tavern in a small Scottish Lowland village, and knew damned well that no one but the Madmen MacKeefe drank whisky from such a large vessel as a tankard.

“Did Callum make his big announcement yet?” Gavin MacKeefe sat down next to his good friend, Cam. He, too, gripped a tankard of the strong drink. “He’s been talkin’ about it all night.”

“No’ yet,” Cam reported. “But we have an announcement of our own to make.” Yvaine smiled shyly at Cam. Avianca, Cam’s six-year-old daughter from another woman, ran over and climbed atop his lap. She was Cam and Yvaine’s child now, and happy about it.

“Da, Pa-papa is goin’ to ring the bell,” the wee lass told him, using her special name for Callum. She then stuck her fingers in her ears as Callum rang a bell that he had mounted on the edge of the drink board. The loud clanging sound filled the air, getting everyone’s attention.

“I thought he took that damned bell down,” grumbled Cam, swiping a stray strand of blond hair from his eyes.

“Cam, please dinna curse around our daughter,” Yvaine scolded him.

“God’s eyes, I hope he’s not makin’ another set of his silly tavern rules.” Gavin picked up his tankard and took a drink.

“Gavin, there is a child present!” Yvaine took Avianca onto her lap to keep the girl away from the cursing men. “When is Davita arrivin’?” Yvaine inquired about Gavin’s wife.

“She’s no’,” Gavin answered. “Her father had to go on a short trip, so she stayed back at Hermitage Castle. She wanted to help out in town at her family’s cordwainer’s shop until he returns.”

Davita’s family made shoes, and because of it, everyone Davita knew always had new shoes to wear. Hermitage Castle in the Lowlands belonged to the MacKeefes, and they had a camp in the Highlands as well. That was why both Storm MacKeefe and his father Ian were chieftains. With such a distance between their holdings, they needed a ruler in each spot.

“Listen up! I have an announcement to make,” shouted Callum, waving his clenched fist in the air as he made his way over to Keithen and the others. Keithen wondered if he was going to tell everyone about his supposed ghost after all. He really hoped not. For Callum’s sake. After all, his reputation already suffered, and he didn’t need another reason to be called crazy.

“We have our own announcement to make first.” Cam jumped up from the bench so quickly that he almost knocked Gavin to the floor.

“Careful, Cam. Ye ken old Callum will make me lap the whisky off the floor if we spill a single drop,” Gavin grunted, steadying himself as well as his full tankard.

“Cam, no’ yet,” whispered Yvaine, placing her hand on his arm. “Be polite, and wait for Callum to make his announcement first.”

“Nay! If ye have somethin’ to say then spit it out before I knock ye silly for interuptin’ me,” growled the cantankerous old man.

“We’re pregnant,” Cam blurted out, smiling from ear to ear.

“Yvaine, that is wonderful news,” said Keithen, reaching down and hugging his sister. “And this time, yer bairn will survive, so dinna worry,” he whispered in her ear, since she’d lost her last baby.

“That is good news. Ye’re goin’ to be a faither. Again,” said Gavin, slapping Cam on the back. Everyone in the tavern cheered and clapped. Several of the women wandered over to congratulate the couple.