A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 4

Micara went to Will and watched him unload four bundles, three of thick grey wool and one of bulky canvas. He dropped them, one by one, unceremoniously on the ground before turning and rummaging inside the canoe bow.

Micara stooped to inspect the bundles. The three woolen ones were tight rolls tied with strips of rawhide. She picked one up to study it. She frowned and looked at Will who was now holding a drawstring leather pouch.

"What are these?" she asked him.

He cleared his throat. "Those are the bedrolls Miss DeMonae."

She looked down at the one she held, "Oh." 

Royal bedchamber indeed, she thought.

Will slung the drawstring pouch onto his wrist and picked up the other three bundles. "If you'll follow me, Ma'am," he said.

He led her up the game trail and over the bank into a small clearing covered in pine cones and pine needles. The open space was about double the size of Micara's bedchamber at home. Will dropped his load in the middle of the space and went about picking up pine cones and chucking them towards the trees. When he was satisfied with a cone-free space, he went back to his pile.

Micara watched as he selected the canvas roll and moved it to the cleared area. He untied the knots, putting the string inside the pocket of his deerskin over-shirt, and spread the canvas out. There were two straight and stout sticks in the middle of the roll.

It had taken Micara until Will began to position the poles to realize that the canvas tarp was a tent, and not a very large tent at that.

Suddenly Micara was nervous. How was she supposed to share that small space with two large men? It wasn't possible! It was scandalous, no decent woman would allow it!

Now fear went along with the nervousness. What would she do? She was all alone in the wilderness with two backwoodsmen. What if one of them made advances? What would she do then?

She felt a knot in her stomach, as if she would be sick. She clutched the bedroll tightly to her chest and had to work to swallow.

"Ma'am?"

Will's voice pierced her thoughts and her eyes refocused and found him two feet from her.

"Miss DeMonae? Are you alright?" his voice was concerned.

Micara looked around the campsite and the fear left her as she noticed that Will had spread the two bedrolls a few feet away from the tent. She cleared throat and answered as if nothing had happened. "I am quite well Mr. Tuckett, but I thank you for your concern."

Will looked doubtful, but said, "Well Miss DeMonae, as soon as your bedroll is spread, camp is set."

He gestured for her to enter the tent, which she did, then he went into the trees. The two front flaps were thrown on top of the tent. Micara untied and rolled her bedroll, which, to her dismay, was nothing more than a thick woolen blanket, out on the dirt.

Calen came over the embankment holding a few fist-sized stones. He went to the space between the tent an the bedrolls, crouched, and arranged the stones into a small circle.

Will looked up from the piece of dry birch bark that he had found and was carving into tinder and said, "We don't really need the rocks here."

Calen grinned and patted the rocks. "True," he said, "but it just doesn't feel like a real camp fire without 'em."

Will chuckled. "True enough."

Micara finished straightening her bedroll and exited the tent.

Calen stood and looked at her. "Aw, your Highness," he sneered, "are our accommodations accommodating enough for you?"