Bruar's Rest

the corridor we have a man who might be Buckley. He’s all shackled up, so don’t worry about your safety. All that’s needed is a simple nod of the head if you are sure it’s him, do nothing if it’s not. Is that clear?’
    ‘Yes, now please get it over with before I soak my knickers.’
    Michael chuckled, gave her a big hug and said, ‘Do you want the toilet first?’
    ‘No, that was only a figure of speech. Please, Inspector, let’s get this over with.’
    The door separating her from the haunting nightmare creaked very noisily open. The word ‘oil’ came into her mind, ‘the door hinges need oil’. Then she saw a chunk of wood had been kicked from the bottom of the door. ‘Anger did that, maybe a heavy ploughman’s boot, probably drunk.’ She wished the door had other features to look at, rather than having to raise her eyes and settle them on what now stood staring at her.
    His very presence sent trembles through her, sweat ran from beneath her hairline to gather under her breasts.
    ‘Is this him?’ Martin asked impatiently, but the answer did not come from her, it came with the words of a poignant ballad. With ice-cold malice, for every man in that place to hear, he spat out the words—‘You-take-the-high-road-I’ll-take-the-low-road.’
    Hell opened, she heard witches, werewolves, banshees screaming, every kind of devil screeched at her. Her joints were frozen in fear, ‘Is there no end to this red-eyed dog?’ she cried into Michael’s strong body. What did she do to deserve a living nightmare such as this?
    ‘Deserting me again, Megan? Just when we were enjoying ourselves! Ah well, another time—yes?’ He stood inches from her, motionless as a tombstone.
    In the space of seconds she’d found enough composure to take a good look at the man who tormented her; his ruddy brown face, yellowing teeth and newly shaven head displaying jug ears. ‘Yes, it’s him—the murderer of Mother Foy.’
    Trapped by chains and large guards he snarled. The veins in his neck, red and swollen, were near bursting. ‘Hell will come for you, Megan,’ he hissed, as the guards dragged him off, shouting ‘We’re not finished with one another!’
    ‘That’s a positive identification, then,’ said Inspector Martin.
    ‘Hang him slow!’ she said, with a mixture of anger and fear.
    Later, back in the warm farm house, with promises from Martin that she’d never see the Bull again, she felt stronger and happier. After dinner, Michael told his family what he and Megan had planned to do. ‘She will not come with me. Until she has definite proof of her husband, we don’t know one way or the other,’ he said. ‘I will help her find him after I return from Ireland. I’ve several horse deals to sort, so can she stay here with you?’
    They thought Megan was a nice and pleasant girl, they’d become quite fond of her; yes, she could stay with them. Bridget loved her brother, who clearly held a great deal of affection for the Scottish lass. It did concern her that if Bruar was alive and well, his hopes to further a relationship with Megan would be dashed. Later, when the men went to bed, she spoke with the tinker girl who had stolen her dear brother’s heart.
    ‘To be sure our Michael seems taken with you. Be honest with me now, do you feel the same?’
    ‘In total frankness, I do not know. Hell, Bridget, my feet have hardly touched the soil while all manner of mishaps have befallen me. I can’t think straight at all. But one thing I do know, your brother sees worth in me. I will find Bruar, and I’ll tell you this, if he’s got a tiny spark of working brain, then I will take him home and live my life with him. Michael is aware of this, yet he is prepared to take a chance and wait on this outcome.’
    ‘Tell me something else, and it’s entirely up to yourself if you answer me. Have you slept with Michael yet?’
    She waited for an answer, but Megan wasn’t ready to tell of tasting the serpent’s apple in the barn, not yet.
    ‘Part of me is hoping you find your man... dead. But it’s only because I hope my brother finds your love. I can’t imagine a nicer, more sensible girl than you. I know that’s an awful thing to say, but surely you can see the reasoning behind it?’
    She smiled, but a stranger who had never met, let alone looked into the eyes of her Bruar, could never understand how painful those words were. She didn’t want him to be dead, but the opposite; she wanted her handsome,