Fire Moon

The Mackenzie brother's saga continues to a conclusion in book 3 of the series:

The slim, dark-haired rider finally realized that he had fallen too far back to clearly hear the song that the big man riding in front of him was singing. After gently spurring his horse while making a clicking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he closed the gap behind the big singer, almost near enough to enjoy the words and melody. But even as close as he was riding, the rising and falling roar of the rushing water in the nearby Watauga River was still occasionally drowning out the big singer’s voice, much to the dark-haired rider’s disappointment.
The dark-haired rider was not much of a singer himself, and he really didn’t need to hear all of the words to be able to hum along with the singer and fill in the gaps when the river’s roar drowned out the song entirely. Just like the big singer, he had heard the ballad so many times that he knew the melody and words by heart. The dark-haired rider thoughtfully looked down at his horse’s reins, pondering why the singer was singing that particular song. It certainly was an old, sweet song, much older than the two men riding in single-file along the river bank and much too sweet for the river’s roar to completely overpower it.

“O’ misty lowlands, rapt in wind-driven snow,”
“The hills whisper longings to the glens that lie below,”
“Where have the guid folk gone? I know, yea, I know,”
“Always remember yer homeland, for tis truly blest,”

Hugh Mackenzie unexpectedly stopped singing the Scottish ballad, abruptly choking off the last word of the verse. Jerking back his reins to quickly stop Hercules, the mule he was riding, Hugh’s eyes darted around warily as if he had been startled by some noise or a movement in the brush nearby. The powerful mule shivered under Hugh’s weight, sensing his rider’s unease. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, Hercules flicked his ears forward to see if he could hear what had startled his heavy rider.