Page 22 of Laird of Wrath

“Come in,” he called.

Reggie walked in, his eyes wide, his breath coming in hard puffs, as if he had run all the way to the study.

“Me Laird,” he said, almost hanging off the door handle as he tried to catch his breath. “Ye must come immediately.”

Callum was out of his seat before Reggie could even finish his sentence, and so was Hudson.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The farmers are here,” Reggie explained, looking even more nervous than usual. “There are reports that their crops have been stolen.”

“Stolen?” Hudson frowned. “By whom?”

Callum didn’t need to ask to know who it was. There was only one person who could have done this—Laird Barclay.

“We daenae ken yet,” Reggie said. “But we will work tirelessly to find out. We have already sent scouts out—the few we have left.”

Callum let out a long, heavy sigh as he sat back down and let his head fall back against the chair.

How was he supposed to deal with this now? Laird Barclay had hit them exactly where he knew it would hurt—the crops, which were the only thing Clan McMahon still had. They were supposed to last them all winter. They were supposed to have enough grain for everyone, so they wouldn’t be forced to pay another clan for theirs, but now he would have to dip into the castle’s reserves and hope that they could last the winter.

“Let’s go,” he grunted, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.

Hudson and Reggie followed close behind, the latter mumbling over and over about who it could be. He even mentioned Laird Barclay a few times.

Of course, everyone would suspect him. Who else wanted to weaken the clan?

Eventually, they made it to the Great Hall, where Callum found dozens of farmers waiting for him, all of them gathered for the same thing. The moment he stepped into the hall, conversations hushed, but then the complaints picked up, each farmer eager to express his grievances.

The crowd parted as he made his way to the other end of the hall, where his chair was waiting for him. They were scared of him, he realized. They were giving him a wide berth, not so much out of respect, but because they were too scared of him to remain close.

He sat down, flanked by Hudson and Reggie, and cleared his throat as the farmers gathered around him, their voices rising into a loud chorus.

“Enough!” he bellowed, and the hall fell into silence. “Good. Now, me councilman tells me that yer crops have been stolen. Is that correct?”

There was a chorus ofayes, this time quieter.

Callum hummed thoughtfully to himself. “All of yer crops?” he asked. “There is nae a single man here who was spared?”

“Those closest to the castle were spared, me Laird,” Reggie said, leaning closer to him. “The attackers have avoided the villages closest to us.”

Of course they did. Barclay isnae a fool.

“I can assure ye that ye will all be compensated for yer lost crops,” Callum said.

The farmers let out a collective sigh of relief. The crops were their only hope. They were their lifeline, and losing them meant that they and their families would suffer, that many would fall ill, that as many would die. And Callum couldn’t allow that.

Their fear soon turned into gratefulness as they looked at him, but he couldn’t find much joy in it. Not only did they think him beastly, but there was also no joy to be had when he knew there was a threat out there, one that was more serious than the farmers realized.

How far was Laird Barclay willing to go to get what he wanted?

Callum feared that the answer was too far. He had to get to the man before he got to him.

Beckoning Hudson and Reggie closer, he whispered to them so that no one else could hear. “This is Laird Barclay’s doing. I’m sure of it. He wants to destroy us because I refused to give him me sister.”

“Aye,” Reggie agreed grimly. “I figured the same.”

“We must fight back,” Callum muttered. “We cannae allow him to do somethin’ like this again, and we certainly cannae allow him to attack us first.”