Chapter 2

Ragan spent two very angry days ignoring both her father and Edan. She’d neither gone to sup in the great hall with her kin, nor talked to any of her brothers. The only thing she’d participated in had been her chores. And when those were done, she’d grudgingly returned to her solar.

Coming to the conclusion that her protest had fallen on deaf ears, Ragan decided she’d have to choose a different tactic. One that didn’t drive her mad with boredom!

Making her way to the stable, she spotted her brother Riley in the courtyard. He was with Edan. Both men were holding their bows and discussing the target in front of them.

“Is it too late for me to join in?” Ragan asked innocently, suddenly having a very good idea about how to get back at her unwanted suitor.

“Hello there, little sparrow,” Riley hailed. “I see ye are done with your useless brooding.”

“A bow is nye a woman’s tool, Ragan,” Edan scolded, still sore with her that she’d refused his proposal and embarrassed him in front of the entire clan.

“Don’t be so hasty as to misjudge her, Edan,” Riley cautioned. “My Ragan, here, is the best shot of all the laird’s children.”

“Ha!” the highlander scoffed. “Perhaps she can beat mere boys, but nye a full-grown Scotsman,” he unwittingly challenged.

Ragan, counting on just such a pompous reaction, gratefully accepted the challenge. “Then ye would nye mind putting your skills to the test, would ye, Edan?”

“Bah,” he dismissed. “I wouldn’t waste my time sparring with a woman!”

A crowd of both men and women was beginning to assemble around them now. At Edan’s ribald comment, the men began to chuckle.

“Then I suppose ye would rather waste your time by looking in the lowlands for your reived sheep!” Ragan had heard he’d lost a good number of the aforementioned beasts a month ago. Taken from directly under his nose, it was reported, while he slept.

This time it was the women of the progressively swelling horde who gave a hearty chuckle. The story was well known, and Edan had already received quite a lot of teasing over the past weeks for his folly.

“Good fer ye, Ragan! Tell the blasted man how it is!” Mary MacDougall, a woman who seemed constantly heavy with child, shouted out from the group. Soon enough, others were enthusiastically chiming in.

Edan’s face colored hotly at the reminder. “Very well, girl. Ye can join us. But if ye believe ye can actually win, are you willing to wager something of import?”

Seeing what he assumed was his chance, the arrogant highlander fell straight into Ragan’s trap. “What do you have in mind?”

“If I win, then ye will voluntarily do as your father has bid and wed with me!”

With this declaration, a hush descended over the boisterous crowd. These were great stakes indeed, and they didn’t want to miss a single word of the highly charged exchange.

“And if I win?” Ragan queried, wanting him to clarify their terms in front of their clan so that he couldn’t go back on his word if he disliked the outcome of the match.

“Then I release ye from your obligation,” Edan dutifully responded.

“Tis a deal,” Ragan agreed without faltering.

Riley shook his head with a grin. “I hope ye know what ye are doin’, little sister. The man is the surest shot, next to ye, that I have ever seen.”

Taking a deep breath, Ragan swallowed hard at her brother’s murmured warning. While she was very aware of Edan’s proficiency with a bow, she was also wholly secure in her own. Though she had not the strength to launch the arrow a great distance, as many men could, her precision was deadly accurate.

“I will require a bow,” she responded then, and Riley promptly handed her his own.

Studying the weapon, for it was slightly larger than the one she was accustomed to using, Ragan flexed and snapped the tightly strung wire

“Shall we set some ground rules before we begin?” Riley wisely suggested. When both parties nodded, he continued. “Then, as is custom, the best two out of three shots should suffice in the telling of who is the better marksman, or woman,” he offered fairly. “Also, I think each contestant should get three trial shots. We shall start with Ragan, as she has nye had the benefit of practice this morning.”

“Agreed,” Ragan said.

“Agreed,” Edan echoed, spitting upon the ground to seal the deal.

Riley pitched his voice then so everyone could hear him. “Alright, let us begin.”

Walking up to the line that had already been scratched into the dirt, Ragan lifted her bow to aim at the target. Edan rudely interrupted before she could get off a single shot.

“That is nye where we will be standing, lass,” he corrected her. Taking ten paces farther from the line, he scratched a new one into the ground.

While the distance of the target hadn’t been discussed when the rules had been agreed upon, Ragan didn’t object. This contest had become a point of pride with her and she didn’t plan on losing.

“What is goin’ on here?” Ronald quietly asked Rourke, who was standing to the side of the collected throng of people in the courtyard.

“Ragan has bitten off more than she can chew,” Rourke described briefly.

Ronald smiled. “Ah,” he said, avidly watching the scene before him unfold. “What else is new?”

When everyone had quieted, the laird’s hot-headed daughter discharged her first practice shot. It missed the target completely.

Ragan could hear the sniggers of the unimpressed menfolk behind her mingled with that of the disappointed groans of the women. Not paying any heed to the crowd though, she carefully redressed her bow and let loose her following effort.

This time the arrow did hit the target. Though not especially close to the painted center, she was getting the feel of the large bow and could now determine the difference between it and her smaller one.

Lining up her final trial shot, Ragan stiffened her shoulders and let it sail. The arrow landed in the innermost black ring. Though still not the desired red-dotted center, there wasn’t any additional laughter from the crowd, only excited cheers.

“Alright, Edan, tis your turn,” Riley spoke.

“I don’t need any practice, man,” the Scotsman bragged boastfully. Swaggering over to the marked line, he fired off his first arrow.

It landed closer to the black paint than any Ragan had yet discharged. It was now the men’s turn to clap and cheer for their champion, and the women to remain closed-mouthed.

The excitement of the competition was palpable. It was no longer just about Ragan and Edan. It was about man versus woman, and each person in the crowd drew their own personal lines as to who they stood behind.

Taking her place on the line once more, Ragan drew back the heavy string of the bow, then released it. Like a bird in streamlined flight, it cut gracefully through the air and hit the outside corner of the red dot. The womenfolk shouted out their praise, for it was closer than Edan’s by almost an inch!

Edan too hurriedly fired off his second shot. It landed in the red, though not as close as Ragan’s had. Cursing, he pulled another arrow from his quiver and snapped it angrily between his fingers.

Although hot-headed herself, Ragan was able to keep her cool under pressure. But just as she was aiming and releasing her second arrow, Edan tossed a rock across her field of vision, impairing her judgment. Though able to save the shot, it landed on the outermost green circle. The band worth the least amount of points.

Jeers erupted from the crowd at such an underhanded tactic. Even some of the men were voicing their displeasure over it. Though it galled Ragan that Edan would cheat to win, she didn’t stop the match or argue. However, she wasn’t about to let the man get away with it, either.

When it was time for Edan’s third and final shot, she trailed silently behind the Scotsman. Just as he was releasing his arrow, she blew a gust of hot air into his ear. This unexpected act threw Edan’s concentration off so badly that his arrow skirted past the target and into a distant tree.

Swinging around to see what it was that had disturbed his attention, Edan gave Ragan a withering stare. She gave him one right back! This made the crowd burst into laughter, as it served the man right for his earlier deceit.

According to the rules, the victor was the person who could hit the best two out of three shots. That meant this competition wasn’t over yet. Not about to let the highlander employ his dirty tricks again, Ragan glanced around for where her would-be-suitor stood. To her relief, she noted that Ronald had come to rest on his left side, and Rourke on his right, their muscled forearms folded across their barreled chests in an unspoken threat.

With this calming assurance in place, Ragan aimed and fired her last arrow. It seemed to creep through the air with countless eyes upon it. When it landed, the tip was buried in the centermost point of the red dot.

She was the victor!

Her clansmen, both women and men alike, roared their sincerest approval. She had played this game fairly and had still managed to triumph.

After receiving many congratulations, the crowd around Ragan finally began to disperse. Edan came marching up to her then, his visage a raging storm of emotion, an objection already forming on his lips.

“Let me see your bow!” he growled. Wrenching the item from her hands, he began meticulously inspecting it.

“Ah-ha!” the humiliated highlander ejected. “Tis a trick bow, as it is deceptively light for one so large!”

“Give it up man,” Riley advised with a disgusted shake of his head. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Twas a fair match, and you know it.”

“She has cheated!” Edan accused indignantly.

“Watch yourself, man,” Ronald cautioned, taking a protective step toward his sister.

His finger-pointing accusatorily at Ragan, Edan continued to rant. “She has cheated and should be disqualified!”

“Ye wouldn’t be calling my sister a liar, would ye now, Edan?” Rourke queried, his hand already itching at the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“Twould not be smart to do so, laddie,” Ronald added ominously in support of his brother.

Seeing that the odds were not in his favor, Edan grudgingly backed down. “I will be having a word with the laird about this!” he ranted madly, before stalking off toward the keep.

“And I’ll be wanting my bow back, Edan!” Riley comically shouted after the man’s vanishing form, for he still clutched it in his hands as ‘proof’ that he had been terribly wronged.

Ragan giggled. “I don’t think he heard ye, Riley. Mayhap ye can still catch him if ye run!”

“Why don’t ye, lassie. And when ye reach him, ye can challenge him to a race for me!” he teased.

Everyone laughed at this except Rourke. “Tis nye a humorous affair, Ragan,” he reprimanded sternly. “The man will be seeking revenge against ye. A Scotsman does nye take losing to a lassie very well.”

“Maybe they just need more practice,” Ragan reasoned dismissively.

“Rourke’s right,” Ronald added. “We will have to keep a watchful eye on the lad until his anger has abated some.”

“Aye, we should. But if there is a fight, I know who I will be taking with me,” Riley spoke.

Puffing out his chest, Rourke’s features turned quizzical. “And who would that be, brother?”

“I’ll give ye three guesses,” Riley said. “This person is prettier than ye, wears a skirt, and has a better aim with a bow than the two of ye combined!”

“So ye’d choose Rourke over your eldest brother, would ye?” Ronald mocked.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Riley pulled Ragan into his arms. “I was talking about me brave little sister, ye arse,” he chuckled. “The lass is worth ten times the lot of ye!”

“Ye think so, do ye? Rourke, get that wee brat!” Ronald ordered, and the man promptly tackled his younger brother to the ground.

Taking this as her cue to leave, Ragan walked toward the stable, still intent on exercising her neglected mare. But, as she approached it, she noticed the chapel door was ajar. Guessing her brother Ryan was inside, she entered the modest stone dwelling to have a word with the man.

Doing a harried curtsey, she stepped over the threshold while signing the cross. Ronan’s second-born, Ryan, was kneeling before the altar, decorously bent in prayer.

“Ryan,” she whispered, but her voice echoed and projected louder than she’d anticipated.

Before acknowledging her, Ryan ended his prayer. “I knew ye would win,” he spoke without looking up.

“Someone told ye!” Ragan pouted. “I’d wanted to recount the tale myself.”

“And I want ye to,” he smiled, “but let us do so outside.”

Striding out of the chapel, Ryan seated himself upon the steps and Ragan settled down alongside him.

“I had hoped ye’d come to the church to confess your sins, wee one. But I can see now, staring into those clear blue eyes of yours, tis merely rejoicing over your triumph ye have come here to do.”

“Is that bad of me, Ryan?”

“No, tis who ye are, Ragan, and that’s all ye can be,” her brother recited piously. “But don’t fool yourself by thinking father will be as lenient as I. Ye have put him in a bit of a bind.”

“How so?”

Ragan couldn’t see any such consequence. She’d made a bet with Edan, one he’d offered, and the man had lost. Twas a simple enough matter. The way she saw it, Edan should be the one doing the apologizing to her father, nye she.

Trying to think of how best to explain it, Ryan shifted upon the unyielding stones. “Twas father’s word that solidified the union between ye and Edan. And because of your contest today, ye have made the laird’s choice for your husband appear poorly. And by doing that, ye have made father look incompetent. Do ye understand, lass?” he queried.

“But a deal is a deal!” Ragan blindly argued.

“Yes, dear, of course it is. But twas nye a deal for either one of ye to make,” he reasoned. “Twas only for the laird to say. Ye, as well as Edan, should have known better than to bet on a wager that was nye yours to be decided upon.”

Her blue eyes round with worry, Ragan took up her brother’s hand. “Ye don’t think father will allow the man to go back on his word, do you, Ryan?”

“I don’t know, lass. Ye have created quite a quandary here. Tis up to father to decide that now.”

Looking out into the courtyard, Ragan saw Ronald, Riley, and Rourke still wrestling about. The humorous scene softened her anger some, but not completely.

“I know ye don’t want to marry Edan, lass,” Ryan returned, a fretful grimace set upon his face. “But I’m not sure that will be reason enough for our chieftain to cancel the wedding contract betwixt the two of you.”

Standing resolutely, Ragan glared at the entrance to her father’s keep. “I’m nye about to work so hard to win the battle, Ryan,” she stated fiercely, “to just sit idly by and lose the war! I will make father see reason. I have to!”

“God be with ye,” Ryan stated, knowing if the girl was going up against the laird, “war” was exactly what his sister was about to get.