by Karen Kelly
“Uncle, this is Emily Carson. She’s a dancer too.” Kyla reached over to pet the border collie sitting at her uncle’s feet. “Em, this is my Uncle Leath.”
Emily put her hand in Leathan’s extended hand, where it was swallowed up in a friendly shake. “Why did you name your dog Clyth? What does it mean?” she eagerly asked, always curious.
A smile squinted in the man’s eyes. “Clyth is the name of the place in Scotland where one of our ancestors lived in a castle.”
“A castle?” Emily’s voice squeaked a little. “A really and truly castle?”
“A really and truly castle,” Leathan assured her. “It’s not there anymore, but it was for many, many years.”
Emily held a tentative hand out to Clyth, who sniffed it and then rubbed the side of his head against it. “You have a cool name, Clyth. Oh, and you’re good with sheep too.”
While the girls were distracted by the border collie, the adults introduced themselves, explaining how they had met Kyla. Then Annie stepped closer to Leathan and pointed to his sporran. “Mr. Gunn, I’m interested in your sporran, and I’m hoping you can tell me a little about it. You see, I inherited my house in Stony Point from my grandmother—”
“And she’s always finding the most puzzling things in her attic!” Peggy helped the story along.
Annie nodded at Peggy and continued. “Yes, I am. Recently I found a sporran, also sealskin like yours. But even more, its cantle is identical to yours. Since I have no idea where the sporran came from, and my grandparents never showed it to me, I’m trying to figure out if it held any significance to them, or if there’s a story behind it.” She paused, and then took the photo out of her purse and handed it to Leathan.
The man stood motionless as he gazed at the photo.
When he remained silent, Annie asked, “Do you know if the design on your cantle is unique to your family, the Gunns?”
Once again Leathan was still. Then he said quickly, “I don’t believe it is, Mrs. Dawson. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
Annie tried to hide her disappointment. “Please, do call me Annie. Don’t worry about it. We’ve enjoyed getting to know Kyla a little, and the sheepherding was so exciting! Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you,” Leathan nodded. Then he spoke to his niece. “Kyla, the other dogs are in their kennel. Come help me with them.” Turning back to the others, he spoke to them. “Kyla and I need to go now. Enjoy the rest of the Games.” Nodding briskly, he called Clyth to follow and put his arm around Kyla’s shoulder to bring her along with him. Kyla waved over her shoulder and called, “Bye, Emily! It was nice meeting you!”
Startled at the sudden departure, the group from Stony Point stood looking at each other. They heard Kyla say to her uncle as he walked away from them, “Why do you need my help? Isn’t Dev here?”
They couldn’t hear Leathan Gunn’s response.
12
The friends looked at one another, cocking their heads, perplexed. “We should probably be used to these unusual reactions by now,” said Alice. “Especially Annie. But I’m not. How about the rest of you?”
Wally shook his head. “In my wild days I dodged trouble all the time, and well, sometimes trouble hit me right on the chin. But those were just consequences—you know? These folks are acting strange, for sure.”
“Kyla’s uncle wasn’t mean,” inserted Emily, not wanting her friend to be disliked by her family and adult friends.
Annie affectionately tugged the little girl’s pigtails. “No, he wasn’t, Emily. But he definitely was in more of a hurry to leave than he had been when he was telling you about his collie’s name. I think he was bothered by the photo I showed him but didn’t want to say it.”
“I agree with Annie,” said Peggy, “but before we decide what to do next, let’s go gather our stuff.” She glanced around at the new batch of contestants for the two-dog sheepdog finals gathering around the edge of the field. “We need to get off the field.”
The group returned to the blanket. “Mom! Kyla left her dancing shoes!” Emily snatched up the black shoes and stood before Peggy, cradling them in her arms. “What should we do?”
Ian put on his mayor’s fix-it tone. “Leathan said he needed Kyla to help with the dogs. All the kennels are kept in the same general area. We can go look around for her.”
“Or maybe she’ll go back to see some more of the dancing,” added Alice, “when she gets done with the dogs.” Alice’s response made it clear she hadn’t believed Leathan’s claim that he needed Kyla’s help.
Peggy finished folding the quilt and stuffed it into her bag. “So, why don’t we first go to the kennel area and then try the dance stages, if Kyla’s already gone?”
“And if we just can’t find her, Emily, I’m sure they have a lost-and-found box somewhere,” Annie told the anxious girl. “We can check the brochure for its location.”
Emily’s pigtails bobbed. “OK, Miss Annie. But can we hurry?”
The adults nodded as one, and they made sure they hadn’t left anything behind. “Keep a good grip on those, Em,” Peggy said, as though she didn’t already know the girl was clutching the leather shoes as though her life depended on them. “Wally, which way to the kennels?”
Wally had been consulting the well-used brochure. He looked up, glanced around, and pointed to the left. “We need to head that way behind the first sheep pen and then around to an area near one of the parking lots. Let’s go!” Map in hand, he started off, Emily walking beside him and the adults following.
Once they reached the grassy area dotted with dog kennels of many different sizes, the group split up to look for Kyla. The adults decided that whoever found her would text Wally to bring Emily and the shoes, hopefully without spooking Leathan.
But there was no need for texting. Kyla could not be found, and her uncle was not in the area either. They all met back at the designated place to proceed to Plan B, the dance stages. Those turned out to be much trickier to comb for one twelve-year-old dancer among the sea of kilted participants and crowds of spectators. Once again the group split into two, but before long they realized it was going to be nearly impossible to find Kyla in the crush of people. A text from Ian to Wally brought all the friends back together in front of Stage 3, the shoes still clutched in Emily’s arms.
The girl’s face showed her worry. “Does this mean we have to find the lost-and-found box and dump Kyla’s shoes there?” From the tone of her voice, Emily felt as confident about the lost and found as animal lovers do about the pound. The adults looked around at one another. What was the best next step, for both Kyla and their favorite young dancer?
Annie drew in a slow and deep breath before offering her opinion. “There’s still plenty of time left in the day, and with that is the chance we can see Kyla again. I see no reason why we can’t keep the shoes with us while we do the other things we have planned. Then, if we don’t see Kyla by four forty-five, we can leave the shoes with lost and found.”
“Annie makes a reasonable suggestion,” said Ian. “Does that sound good to you, Emily?” He turned to her, smiling gently.
Emily’s arms tightened slightly around the shoes, but she nodded. “I want Kyla to know we took good care of them.” Relief and lingering concern both played across her face.
“Em, if we do end up having to put Kyla’s shoes in the lost and found, we can tuck a note inside so Kyla will know how hard we tried to find her,” Peggy told her daughter.
The little girl brightened, and she straightened her backbone, drawing her shoulders back. The dancer in her had found her balance again. “OK, Mom. I feel much better now.”
“Since we have that decided, what should we do next?” Wally asked, his eyes still scanning the flow of people going by them.
Alice also kept watch for Kyla’s sky-blue tartan as she replied, “The kilt-making demonstration starts soon. But I suspect you men would be bored.”
Wally snickered. Ian grinned and answered, “Even thoug
h I wouldn’t mind having some say in the kilt you ladies plan to make for me, I’ll just have to trust your judgment. I’ve been thinking about the events of the day and what connections there could be between Hep the hammer tosser, the singer, and the falconer. Can we discuss it while Wally and I walk you to the demo building?”
Alice looked around at her girlfriends and answered for them all. “Yup. Let’s walk and talk, as my father used to say.”
“I’ve been thinking about the connections too, Ian,” Annie confessed as they moved away from the dance platforms toward the building indicated on the map where the kilt-making class was to be held. “All the weird stuff started happening after we went through the vendor tents.”
Peggy opened her mouth to speak, and then found she needed to step backward quickly to avoid colliding with a swerving baby stroller being pushed by a teenage girl. “Whoa, there!” Peggy blurted.
“Oops,” the girl gasped. “Sorry!” The teen jerked the stroller to the left to make more room and hurried away, her flip-flops smacking the ground like rapid fire.
Peggy’s eyes followed the stroller for a moment. “I sure hope that girl doesn’t harm the little one with her recklessness.” She shook her head to refocus her thoughts. “Anyway, as I was about to say, Mr. MacTavish sounded like he’d been around the Games for a long time. He must know a bunch of the families that come every year.”
“That’s right,” agreed Alice, “and he kinda paused when Annie showed him the ferrule, but he still said he didn’t know which clan it was from. He even told us to try at the clan tents.”
Annie snapped her fingers. “And yet, remember how the woman at Kilt and Caboodle told us right away that the ferrule had a custom design? Wouldn’t someone who’s been in the bagpipe business as long as Mr. MacTavish know it too?”
“Sounds suspicious to me,” said Wally. He paused in his steps as the group came to an intersection of tents, glancing at the map once more. “We need to turn to the right here.”
“Do you suppose Mr. MacTavish alerted Hep, and the singer, and Kyla’s uncle about Annie’s questions?” asked Alice.
Ian cupped his hand around Annie’s left elbow to steer her over a few steps, making way for a pushcart of Highland Games paraphernalia moving past them. “Could be, Alice,” he said. “Which gives me an idea of what Wally and I can do while you ladies learn kilt-making.” He turned back to address Wally. “Why don’t you and I go back to the athletic events and see what we can find out about Hep? Maybe we can have a longer conversation with him, if he’s around.”
Wally considered his friend’s suggestion. “That’s probably the best thing we could do. But—” he paused and looked around at the women, “I won’t be comfortable with Ian and me leaving you, unless you promise to stick together while we’re gone.” He gazed into his wife’s eyes. “Peggy, no wandering off to follow some curious person or clue.” Then he shifted his gaze back to the whole group. “And that goes for all of you.”
“OK, Dad.” Emily nodded sincerely, excited to be included in the group of women.
“What she said,” Alice said with a wink over the girl’s head.
Peggy’s eyes glinted. “What if it’s a totally safe clue?” When Wally pulled his shoulders back and opened his mouth to respond, she interrupted him. “I’m kidding! Don’t go all bodyguard on me.” She drew her arm through his and leaned into his side. “You know we won’t do anything foolish with Em along.”
Ian slowed down, peeking into the small building they had just approached. “This looks like the right building.” He put on a stern face, wagging a finger in front of Annie and Alice. “Remember, you may have suckered me into wearing a kilt, but I’m still the mayor of Stony Point, and I will be representing our town. Keep that in mind as you choose the colors,” he swallowed loudly, “and length.”
The women chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ian,” said Alice. “We’ll do you proud so you can do Stony Point proud.”
Annie nodded her agreement and added, “Ian, we won’t be making your kilt today anyway. We’ll need to take your measurements first. You’ll have a say in how the kilt is finished.”
“Thank you,” Ian responded, with as much dignity as he could muster. “If all goes well, perhaps I’ll wear the kilt at the town’s first Robbie Burns Dinner.”
“Come on, Ian, stop yakking, and let’s get a move on,” Wally growled. “Maybe I’ll still get to see some of the Sheaf Toss competition.”
The females watched the two men stride away toward the athletic fields before entering the building. Peggy took Emily’s hand and stepped through the doorway, and Annie and Alice followed.
Inside the single-room building, a woman stood behind a long white table filled with tartans and assorted sewing notions. Though her chin-length hair was a pure, soft white, the woman’s skin was smooth with only small laugh lines at the corners of her cheerful eyes. She opened her arms wide in greeting to the newcomers.
“Come in, come in! We’re just about to get started.” She indicated some empty chairs closer to the table, and the Stony Point women quickly took their seats, smiling at the six other females gathered there. Emily stared at all the different tartan swatches mounted on a bristol board.
The woman began, “In case you’ve stumbled into the wrong building, I’m Brianna Kincaid, and I’ll be demonstrating how to make your own kilt. If you were hoping to learn how to make Scottish black pudding, you’ve overshot by two doors.” She waved her right thumb toward the right and looked around the group, as though waiting for someone to rise, but there were only snickers. “No pudding takers? Great! Let’s get started.”
Brianna picked up the bristol board that had captured Emily’s attention. “Two of the foundational things you need to know before beginning a kilt are how to choose the best material and how to take correct measurements. On this board are just a few of the tartan patterns available. When choosing a tartan for a child, or a dancer, a kilt will look best if it’s made using a pattern in proportion to the size of the wearer.” The instructor pointed to three tartan patterns on the board. “These are examples of patterns suitable for an adolescent.”
“Like me?” Emily asked. “I’m a dancer too!”
Brianna took the young girl’s interruption in stride. “Yes, you would be the perfect size for these patterns.” She touched the three choices once again. Peggy, Alice, and Annie all started to dig into their bags for notebooks and pens as quietly as they could. Noticing, the demonstrator told them, “I’ll be handing out copies of the information I share today, along with resource pages. That way, you can watch what I do with undivided attention.”
“Oh, thank you!” Alice said, gratefully. “I can imagine how funny my kilt would turn out if I missed writing down a step.”
Brianna nodded in sympathy. “That’s why I wrote up the notes. I’m a very visual learner and could never fully enjoy a demonstration when I was desperate to make sure I had not messed anything up while taking notes.” All of the kilt-making students, including the group from Stony Point, relaxed in their seats.
Setting the board back on the table, the instructor picked up a stack of tartan squares. “Another thing you need to know about kilt material is that it comes in several different weights, such as super fine, lightweight, medium weight, heavy weight, and regimental weight.” As she talked about the different weights of fabric, Brianna handed each student a set of tartan squares so they could feel the difference. After hearing the details of each weight, Annie made a mental note to herself that heavy-weight fabric would probably be best for Ian with his concern for being appropriately dressed for a public event like a Robert Burns dinner. Meanwhile, Peggy decided a lightweight fabric would be fine for Emily’s kilt.
Next, Brianna showed them examples of different versions of some tartans. “This group is a wee bit familiar to me,” she said, handing out four squares of tartan. Annie spread the four swatches on her lap. Green was the dominant color of two of the squares, while another use
d a wider band of black along with the green, giving it a darker look overall. The last square used tan as its background color. Annie stared down at the different renderings in fabric.
Brianna lifted one of the green squares. “This is the ancient Kincaid tartan.” Exchanging it for the square with a brighter green, she said, “This one is the standard-color tartan.” Next she held up one with a green so dark that, at a distance, it would be hard to see it contained both green and black with a thin red line. “This is what the modern colors look like. And last,” she said as she exchanged the dark square for the tan one, “this is a reproduction tartan.”
Peggy blinked at the last square. “What? That one doesn’t look related to the others at all.”
“It can get confusing,” the instructor admitted. “Which is why I have listed the website addresses for both the Scottish Tartans Authority and the Scottish Register of Tartans on the resource pages I’ll be giving you. You can look up any tartan on those sites.”
“Oh, good. I’d never keep all those different tartans straight in my head,” Peggy said. With her years of experience at The Cup & Saucer, Peggy could remember many special orders at a time, but all those variations of fabric made her head spin.
Setting the samples aside, Brianna turned next to the proper method of taking measurements for a kilt. When she emphatically declared one should not try to take measurements for oneself, both Peggy and Alice glanced slyly at Annie, who pretended not to notice. Apparently, somebody was going to have to measure Ian’s waist—two inches above his navel—and his hips, and the length from his waist to mid-knee or above. Her friends made it clear to Annie who they expected the measurer to be.
An air of creative industry pervaded the tent as the group learned about pleating a kilt, what it meant to pin “to the sett” and “to the stripe,” and the differences between different types of pleating. With her friendly, no-nonsense style of teaching, Brianna soon had her students recognizing knife pleats, box and double-box pleats, Kingussie and reverse Kingussie pleats, military box pleats, and tube pleats. Even Emily yelled out “Kingussie!” when the instructor held up an example and asked the group which pleat was used.