The Battle for Duncragglin

by Andrew H. Vanderwal

  Alex looked around for the others.

  “They're back on the farm gettin' the place ready fir ye. Here, I'll take y'r bag.”

  Mr. McRae looked down in surprise at the bag of comics Alex handed him. Willie stifled a snicker. Alex flushed, suddenly realizing that Mr. McRae must have meant his suitcase. They crossed the car park, Alex struggling with his suitcase and Mr. McRae lightly swinging the bag of comics.

  Soon they came to a large boxy van with bold letters that read FRESH ORGANIC PRODUCE. Mr. McRae opened the back door and Alex gratefully slid in his suitcase.

  “It's no locked – hop in.”

  Not until Alex had swung open a door did he notice that the steering wheel was on his side. Willie was snickering again. Embarrassed, Alex slid across the bench seat to the middle.

  Willie climbed in the passenger side and bounced impatiently. “Cm on, Dad. Let's get this truck in gear.”

  Mr. McRae heaved himself up behind the wheel. He leaned forward to look past Alex to Willie. “Now you just hold on. Alex has had a long trip and no much sleep. You can show him about the farm and the loch if he feels like it, but remember, you boys are no to be running about the coast; ye know full well how I feel about that.”

  Mr. McRae turned the key and stomped on the gas pedal until the engine sputtered to life. A blue cloud mushroomed out the back of the van and drifted away.

  It felt strange to Alex that the front wheels were under their seat. When they turned, the front of the van swung out precariously. Ahead was nothing but the windshield and the road.

  For a while, Alex imagined himself driving, veering crazily around cars coming at him on the “wrong” side of the road. But, before long, lack of sleep caught up with him. He slumped in a daze as the misty Scottish hills rolled by. The drive took them across the high Forth Road Bridge and along narrow, winding country roads.

  Eventually, the truck bumped down a dirt road lined on one side by a low stone wall. They wound around a small, irregular-shaped loch nestled in the surrounding hills and came to a farmhouse with a steep tiled roof. Farther back were ramshackle sheds and a barn. Several cows stopped to stare.

  “The wailing rocks are over that way.” Willie gestured past the loch. “Down by the sea.”

  “If I've told ye once, I've told ye a hundred times – ye'll no be going to the sea.” Mr. McRae stopped the van and pulled up the parking brake. He waved a threatening finger at Willie. “And don't ye start up about wailin' rocks, ghoulies, and those other tales ye like to tell. I don't want ye frightening our guest.”

  Hauling his suitcase up the path, Alex saw curtains moving in a window. He caught a glimpse of the top of a head and eyes peering over the windowsill. The eyes caught him looking back and disappeared, the curtain filling the spot where they had been.

  A slender girl stood leaning against the door frame, arms folded and head tilted quizzically. Her long brown hair was parted in the middle. She looked to be fourteen or fifteen.

  Alex wondered what she was thinking as she watched him trudge up the walkway – the foreign boy struggling with the battered brown suitcase, Fiona's overseas nephew. Had she been told that his parents disappeared years ago, that he was sent to Canada to live with his uncle? Did she feel sorry for him, or was she wondering if he would be a bother?

  “Yon's Annie,” Mr. McRae said. “Craig's about the place, somewhere.”

  “Hello,” Alex said.

  The girl stepped aside and held the door open. She smiled shyly.

  “Craig, where are ye? Come and say hello,” Mr. McRae bellowed. There was no answer. Mr. McRae gave a tight smile. “That's Craig for ye.”

  Alex followed Mr. McRae up a creaky wooden staircase to an attic room with a sloped ceiling. A dormer window overlooked the loch. There were two beds up against low walls on either side. At the foot of each bed was a wooden chest, and over each chest hung a bulletin board cluttered with prize ribbons, pictures, and pinned notes.

  “Ye'll be sharing this room with Willie and Craig. That's your bed.” Mr. McRae gestured to a neatly made-up mattress opposite the window. “There's an empty drawer for y'r things.”

  Alex studied a poster of a fierce, battle-ax-wielding warrior in a dark medieval dungeon. Ghoulish creatures peered from behind corners. Across the bottom, big Gothic letters intertwined with snakes and scorpions to spell “Annihilation.”

  “Do you have that game? It's cool. Want to go down and play?” Willie was already halfway out of the room. “Come.”

  “Leave him be, Willie. Alex will be needing his sleep.” Mr. McRae shooed Willie out of the room before him. He turned back, one hand on the doorknob. “I'll leave ye a towel and facecloth in the washing-up room. Call me or Annie if ye need anything.”

  Left to himself, Alex spent a moment looking over the contents of a tall bookshelf. On the top level, he saw Harry Potter books and what looked to be the entire Redwall series. Several shelves down were football trophies and a team picture. Alex looked closely at the faces, but could not find Willie's.

  A piggybank caught his attention. Alex picked it up and carefully tugged on a small lever. An iron fisherman abruptly snapped backward with his rod, pulling a fish up and over. A coin slot in the fish's mouth clanged against a larger slot on the top of a barrel. Alex cautiously shook the piggybank back and forth. It rattled. He pulled the fish back to reset the spring.

  “Daaaad! He's trying to steal my money.”

  In his haste to put the piggybank back down, Alex fumbled. The half-sprung fish snapped against his finger.

  Bellowing from downstairs was Mr. McRae. “Craig, get away from there – leave him alone!”

  There was a shuffling noise outside the door. Alex heard the boy's voice again, farther away this time. “Why does he have to stay here? I don't want him in my room. It's no fair!”

  Mr. McRae said weesht, and the voices trailed away.

  Alex was beat. He felt unsteady on his feet and heard a faint ringing in his ears. Before getting into his pajamas, he stuffed the end of his sock into the keyhole. Then he closed the curtains to block out as much daylight as possible and gratefully crawled under the cool covers. He felt like he was in the hold of a ship that was gently lolling in an ocean swell. Wave after wave of darkness reached up until one rolled right over him.

  The next thing he knew, a voice was calling, “Alex, Alex – time to get up.”

  Blinking, Alex looked around the dim room. The door was ajar, and Annie was peering around the corner.

  “Sorry to wake you, but my dad says you won't get back to sleep tonight if you sleep more now. Come, we're about to have a bite of lunch.”

  It was hard to get up. Splashing cold water over his face made Alex feel only slightly better. He shut off the tap and watched the water settle in the basin. His pale shimmering reflection stared back hollow-eyed, as if from far away. Alex hoped he didn't look that bad. He pulled the plug.

  Stumbling down the stairs, Alex followed the sound of voices to a dining room.

  “Have a seat, Alex.” Mr. McRae thumped the empty chair next to him. “Annie, pass the bread, please.”

  Annie ripped off a hunk and passed him the loaf. Alex gripped it with both hands and tore off a piece. He'd eaten only sliced bread before and wondered what to do with it. He watched Willie slather butter over his bread, then load it with ham and cheese. Alex did the same and gave the bread a nibble. The inside was soft and chewy, but the crust was another matter. Still, the others were crunching their way through it, so Alex did too.

  “That's enough now, Craig,” Mr. McRae said sternly. “It's time to come out and get up to the table.”

  A muffled “no!” came from behind a couch in the adjoining room.

  “NOW!” Mr. McRae's shout was met by silence. “Five … four …”

  “Oh, fine!” A young boy's legs, then the rest of him, wriggled backwards from behind the couch. He was a few years younger than Alex, perhaps nine or ten. He plopped himself in a chair between Annie an
d Willie, arms folded and jaw jutting defiantly.

  “Look, Craig.” Annie pointed to an aquarium that bubbled in the corner of the room. “Your wormy fish is coming out.”

  A small eel-like fish had emerged from under the driftwood. It squiggled in the gravel and wound about the plants.

  “Don't care,” Craig said, but he couldn't help but look.

  Willie cleared his throat to catch Alex's attention. “There are nine cows in a field,” he said expectantly. “Which one's closest to Africa?”

  Alex stared at him blankly.

  “Coo eight. Get it? Coo-eight? Say it quickly.”

  Alex didn't get it. A burst of laughter erupted around the table, and he felt his face turn red.

  “Nae more of that,” Mr. McRae cut in. “It's time to get the jobs done. But first, Alex, call y'r aunt and ask how she's doing. Willie, once he's done that, take him out to the barn and get twenty bales of hay and ten bales of straw ready for the coos. Craig, off to the henhouse wi' ye to collect the eggs.”

  Alex galumphed down the muddy laneway with Willie, cheerful even though the rubber boots he was given were two sizes too big. He had never been in a barn before and was eager to see the cows.

  Thick, low-lying clouds emitted sheens of drizzle. The sun poked through now and then, but it was still chilly. Alex was thankful he had Willie's old jersey. He didn't mind its holes and too-long sleeves: Willie looked equally dorky.

  “Why's your dad so much harder to understand than everyone else?” Alex asked.

  “It's because he grew up in Aberdeen,” Willie replied. “Most Scots don't understand him either.”

  “And what about your mum – is she away somewhere?” Alex was curious why no one had mentioned her.

  Willie looked away. “She's gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Don't know. One day, she took our dog Tigger and left; we haven't heard from her since. That was over a year ago.”

  “Took your dog and left?” Alex was stunned. He thought about his own missing parents. For years he kept thinking they might suddenly show up again, that everything would go back to how it was … but it never happened.

  Alex recalled all too well the confusion and chaos, the initial reassurances of “don't worry” and “I'm sure they will be found” becoming less frequent, until they stopped altogether. Finally came the chilling and terrifying realization that they could be gone for good.

  The boys walked up an earthen ramp to a tall barn door. Willie lifted the wooden latch and pulled. The heavy door creaked open enough for them to slip through, then closed behind them with its own weight.

  Alex strained to see in the huge dim cavern. Thin shafts of sunlight angled through gaps high up in the barn boards.

  “Watch your step.” Willie kicked aside clusters of loose straw. “See these floorboards? Some of them are loose. Those big holes over there are where we throw down the bales.”

  Snorting noises were coming from under the floor. Shuffling cautiously through the straw, Alex approached a large dark hole. He knelt and peered over the edge. Down in the darkness below were swaying backs of cows that plodded about in a thick slush. The stench was overpowering.

  “How do they get out?”

  “Through the sliding door on the far side. We leave it open. They can go in and out whenever they want.”

  Alex wondered why the cows, given half a chance, would not get out and never come back. Then he remembered the exterior pen was not much better.

  “You get the straw,” Willie said. “I'll get the hay. Don't mix them up.”

  “What's the difference?”

  “Hay is greener. It's what they eat. Straw is for their stalls. Here, use one of these.” Willie passed Alex a metal bar. It had a handgrip at one end, a hook at the other. “And don't pull too many bales out from the bottom, or the top will come down on you.”

  Alex watched in admiration as Willie climbed, using his hook for support. High up on a timber, Willie hooked a bale, pulled it out from the others, and dropped it over the edge of the pile. It landed with a thud, blasting up clouds of dust that sparkled in the shafts of light.

  Alex looked dubiously up the wall of straw that loomed over him. Heights made him nervous. He stabbed his hook into a nearby bale, catching the baling twine that held it together. Several hard yanks and it pulled free. The bale next to it didn't look so secure anymore, so he hooked it and pulled it out too. Encouraged, he pulled out a few more.

  A rustling noise came from above. Too late, he saw the overhanging bales start to tumble. He leapt, but a falling bale knocked him flat. He covered the back of his head with his hands. Bales thudded down all over him and then it was quiet.

  Holding the sleeve of his jersey over his nose and mouth, Alex sputtered and coughed. He cautiously wriggled his pinned leg out from under a bale and felt about in the darkness. The way forward was blocked. Finding the space he was in too small to turn around in, he squirmed backward. He didn't notice that he was wriggling onto a loose board until the front tipped up, the back fell, and Alex dropped like a sack of grain into the depths below.

  “Noooooooo!” Alex was all too aware of the sea of sloshy manure that awaited him. He landed with a heavy thud. Tentatively looking up, he saw he had landed on a cow's back, facing the cow's behind.

  The cow's head shot up. “ Mooaaooow.” It leapt into the air and kicked. Alex hung on for dear life. It took to stampeding through the slosh, barn beams and other cows flashing by. Startled moos came from all around.

  Suddenly, it was brighter. Bucking and twisting, the cow had left the barn. Alex felt his grip slip and, for the second time, he was airborne. Arms and legs flailing, he landed facedown on the hard ground. It hurt, but it was better than landing in cow plop.

  Terrified that the maddened cow's hooves would come crashing down on him any second, he curled into a ball and covered his head with his arms. Hearing nothing, he shifted and peered between his elbows. The cows were all heading away in a rapid little trot, udders swaying to and fro under their backsides. The puny electrical fence there to keep them back didn't even slow them down.

  Now I've really done it. Alex picked himself up, brushing straw off his jersey and shaking it out of his hair.

  The cows were completely out of sight. Alex didn't know what to do, so he trudged back to the barn, dragging his feet the whole way. Inside, a muffled voice was calling, “Alex, Alex, can you hear me?”

  A bale wiggled high up the pile. It flipped end-over-end down the slope. Alex clambered up the bales to the crater where the bale had come from. Down in the darkness, he saw Willie struggling to pull out yet another bale.

  “I'm over here,” Alex said.

  Willie turned and stared, mouth agape. “How … how did you get there?”

  “I fell down a loose floorboard.”

  “Phew!” Willie wiped his sweaty, dust-streaked brow with the back of his hand. “Dad would've killed me if you were dead.”

  “You sure moved a lot of bales.” Alex felt badly.

  “No kidding.” Willie chuckled. “I think we've got more ready for the cows than my dad expected.”

  “I don't think he'll be too happy that the cows escaped.”

  “What?!”

  Willie dashed out of the barn and ran across the field, Alex close behind. Rounding a bend, they almost ran headlong into frightened cows that were being herded back toward the barn by Mr. McRae, Annie, and Craig. Seeing the boys, the cows hesitated, looking about for a different direction to run.

  “Quick, this way!” Willie yelled. The two boys sprinted to block an escape route.

  “Willie, turn the power off the line.” Mr. McRae waved his stick. “The rest of ye, spread out and make sure the coos don't get past. Alex, if they start coming at ye, shout ‘coo-boss.’ Stand your ground. Jump up and down, if need be.”

  Willie emerged from the barn. “Power's off,” he shouted.

  Mr. McRae picked up a length of fallen electrical wire. “Okay,
everybody, get it back on the posts.”

  Checking first to see that the others could touch the wire without getting a shock, Alex cautiously lifted a section and straightened the flimsy insulator posts. Mr. McRae came round to inspect.

  “Okay, Willie, turn 'er back on.”

  Mr. McRae stabbed the air toward the cows with one finger while silently moving his lips. He counted from left to right and back again. His lips tightened. “One's missing. Willie, go check if she's in the barn.”

  Willie disappeared, only to emerge moments later shaking his head.

  Mr. McRae stamped his foot. “It's Vanessa that's missing. Willie, Craig, and ye, too, Alex, spread out and look for her. She cannae be far. When ye find her, bring her in the side gate and close her up in the big stall. She's due to be calving soon, and I hope all this excitement doesnae make her pop. Annie! Help me with the milking. I'm far behind schedule.”

  3

  THE WAILING ROCKS

  Alex squinted against a sun that hung low over the rugged hilly landscape, wondering what a thousand pounds of frightened cow would take to doing. Would she run until she dropped, or find a place to hide? Then again, she didn't look very bright. Perhaps she would forget why she was running and stop to chew on some grass.

  Willie tapped his arm. “She won't be that way. The others were brought back from there. She's probably gone off in the direction of the sea.”

  “She'll be miles from here after the way Alex scared her,” Craig said, with a smug little smile.

  “Don't blame Alex,” Willie snapped. “You're the one who made the bales fall.”

  Craig protested, his voice rising, “No, I didn't.”

  “Did too! I saw you up on those bales where Alex was working.”

  “It was an accident!”

  “I'll bet! You never wanted Alex here.”

  “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I was trying to help.”

  “What? Without telling anybody? Help by sneaking around?”

  “BOYS!” The roar came from Mr. McRae, who had emerged from the barn. “Quit your yapping, git out there, and start looking for Vanessa!”