The Rogues Read Online Free

sighed and looked around.
    Some dozen families had set up shelter among the trees and the wooden outbuildings near the Lodge. The folk were all crofters, just like my own family. I wondered if Fiona and her brothers were there but couldn’t see well enough to know. Some of the people waved to Josie as we approached the house, but they were just a blur.
    â€œWho are they?” I asked, my voice still hardly above a whisper.
    â€œSome of the Glendoun folk,” Josie replied. “The ones who were too sick or too frightened to run any farther after Willie Rood and his men chased them out of their homes. A few of them wanted to go back and see if there was anything they could salvage from the burning. That’s why I rode over there today, to check if it was safe.”
    â€œToo late,” I said hoarsely. “Glendoun’s no a place for people anymore.”
    We halted by a small stable, and a grey-haired attendant hurried forward to hold the reins while Josie slid down from the saddle. She lifted a hand to me, but I didn’t take it. It didn’t feel right to let a lady do such a thing. Instead, I got off by myself, trying not to cry out when I touched down and the movement jarred my poor head. Once on the ground I found myself swaying.
    â€œJust take it a step at time,” Josie cautioned me. “Slowly.” She took me by the elbow, and this time I let her help, though I hated being so weak in front of her. Instead, I turned the conversation back to the folk of Glendoun.
    â€œWhat’s going to happen to them?” I whispered.
    There was a strain of sadness in Bonnie Josie’s voice. “We can give them a place to rest a few weeks, but that’s all. We’ve not the food nor the money ourselves for more.”
    My mouth must have gaped at that. Imagine—a laird’s daughter with not enough food or money. I think at that moment, my anger at Daniel McRoy turned to hate.
    â€œA man needs his own land, or else how is he to live?” I said, thinking of Da, who had worked our small holding, first as a boy with his own father, then as a man.
    â€œBy law the land belongs to the laird,” said Josie, telling me what I already knew. Her voice was low and earnest. She was still holding me as we walked. “The poor folk that live on it can scarcely grow enough in crops and livestock to feed themselves, let alone afford a high rent. That’s why my father never raised the rents. What good would it have done except to beggar every farmer in bad years or steal their earnings in good? Instead, he took the rents out in service to the clan. But Daniel McRoy is not the man my father was, though they were half brothers. The new laird’s new friends have promised him rich rewards in exchange for land to graze their sheep on.”
    â€œThen what’s to become of the Glendoun folk?” I asked, forgetting to concentrate on my walking and almost tripping. “And the others?” Meaning my family and our neighbors. Meaning all of the poor farmers in the glens.
    â€œSome have family in happier places where the sheep haven’t come yet. Where the old lairds, like my father, believe in blood before gold. There might be a place for them … for a while. Others may trek to the west. There’s land to be had on the coast.”
    I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. I, who could run around several acres of land without heaviness in my chest, was suddenly as feeble as a grandfather. Turning to her to disguise my weakness, I asked, “Is it good land?”
    She shook her head. “Not like our land here, Roddy. It’s barren and pitted with salt. A man could spend a year trying to get something to grow there and still see nothing for his trouble.” Her voice sounded weary, and she brushed a lock of red hair from her eyes. Clearly she’d given this much thought.
    â€œThe clan grandfathers fought to keep this land safe,” I said,