The Legacy of Lochandee

by Gwen Kirkwood

  They had all accepted that the new house would barely be finished by the time for the wedding, but they were too busy struggling to get the last of the meadow hay gathered in and make a start on the harvest to worry about houses.

  Rachel decided to write one more time to Mr Murray but she felt angry and thoroughly sickened when there was no reply.

  ‘I have no proof that I ever gave him my vase,’ she lamented to Ross.

  ‘And there’s no proof that it had any value anyway, my love,’ he comforted.

  ‘It was valuable to me. It doesn’t matter about the money, it’s the principle. It was Minnie Ferguson’s most treasured possession and she left it to me. I suppose it serves me right for parting with it, but I only wanted the money so that we could go to live at Nether Rullion and start building it up for Ewan, and I still think Bridie should stay here. I don’t want you overworking and killing yourself, like Harry.’

  ‘Ha, but Harry had something wrong with his heart. There’s nothing wrong with me, except I’m not as young as I was when we came to Lochandee. We shall have to hire another man at the November term to replace Bill, but I’ve been asking around for some casual workers to help with the harvest. They’ll expect to be fed and they’ll be more likely to stay if we feed them well. I think I should arrange to get another pig killed.’

  Rachel groaned inwardly. That would mean brawn and sausages to make and the lard to render. Even with the extra hours Beth was working, there never seemed to be enough time for all that needed to be done. Aloud she said, ‘I’ll see that the cellar is scrubbed ready to cure the bacon and hams.’

  Ross managed to hire three casual workers to help with the harvest. He rode on the binder in place of Bill, with Bridie driving the tractor. Sandy Kidd did not like any of “the monster machines” and was happier with a brush and shovel and wheelbarrow, cleaning out the byres and calf houses and caring for the two remaining horses, or stooking corn.

  The three casual workers were named Tom, Edgar and Peter. Ross showed them how to set the sheaves of corn into stooks so that the grain would dry out ready for carting into the stacks. All went well so long as Ross was in the field himself, but for the brief spells when Sandy Kidd relieved her father on the binder, Bridie noticed the men slackened their pace and fell behind.

  She soon realised it was the older of the three, the man named Edgar, who was the ringleader. She had taken an instinctive dislike to the way he leered at her from the moment he had appeared in the farmyard, and she had caught him snarling at the other two more than once, presumably ordering them to go slower. She hated the sly look in his eyes.

  Peter was Polish and had been a prisoner-of-war. He had adopted the anglicised name and, left to himself, Bridie felt he would have been the best worker of the three. He was pleasant-faced, with a boyish smile and wistful dark eyes. They learned later that he and his father had worked on a farm in Poland, then both his parents had been killed and he had no wish to return to his homeland now.

  Tom was quiet and he had a bad squint in one eye and seemed a bit slow in his wits, but he was strong and willing so long as Edgar was not around.

  Most of the harvest was at Nether Rullion because the Lochandee fields were needed to graze the cows and calves and provide the hay for their winter feed. Bridie did not look forward to working with the three men so far away from home. It was bad enough when her father was there, riding the binder, but later he would be needed to build the stacks and she would be left to organise the loading of the carts in the field.

  Her fears proved correct the very first day they were loading sheaves onto the carts. Edgar caught her round her waist as she was climbing onto the cart. His breath smelled of tobacco and the stink of stale sweat from his dirty clothes and unwashed body made her gag.

  ‘Let me go!’ she flared angrily.

  ‘I’m just giving ye a helpin’ hand.’ His grip on her waist tightened and he tried to draw her closer. Bridie gave his shins a hard kick.

  ‘Ouch! Yer stupid bitch! What yer dae that for?’

  ‘I don’t need a helping hand from any of you, so keep your hands to yourself in future.’

  ‘Oh aye? Well we’ll see about that afore this lots gathered in.’ His shifty eyes travelled over the fields of stooks. ‘Ye’ll not be sae prim an’ proper when ye’re flat on yer back beneath a cart. Women! Ye’re all the same. All ye need is mastering …’

  ‘Here’s the boss coming!’ Tom hissed through the gap in his front teeth.

  ‘Weel that’s all right, Tommy boy. There’s plenty o’ room for him.’ Edgar turned to greet Ross with an obsequious smile. It made Bridie seethe with scorn.

  ‘Mornin’, Mr Maxwell, and a fine harvest day it is, tae be sure.’

  Ross returned his greeting, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air.

  Chapter Ten

  BRIDIE FELT HER TENSION increasing with every hour she spent in the company of Edgar Ritter. The way he eyed her every movement made her flesh creep and she felt he was seeing right through the clothes she wore. She despised his lazy ways and snide remarks and she was annoyed by his determination to influence the other two workers.

  During harvest, with the eternal battle to beat the weather, it was customary to eat picnic meals in the field to save time. Bridie had worked with other men ever since she left school and all of them had behaved like gentlemen, never commenting when she disappeared behind a hedge after lunch. Bridie was convinced she could not trust Edgar Ritter. Her breeches were a necessity for working, especially since she was the one who built the loads of corn on the carts, but they made a quick dash behind the hedge almost impossible and the prospect made her edgy and uneasy.

  ‘For goodness sake, Bridie, what was that for? And why are you so jumpy?’ Nick asked when he received a sharp blow in the ribs from Bridie’s elbow, for the second time that afternoon. It was Sunday, and her father insisted only essential work should be done. They could work at the harvest by the light of the moon until midnight every day of the week, but the Sabbath was sacrosanct. So Nick and Bridie welcomed a few hours to themselves, but she shook her head at the suggestion they should go to inspect the new house which would soon be their home.

  ‘I’ve seen enough of Nether Rullion to last me for a long time,’ she said abruptly.

  ‘Oh?’ Nick’s brows shot up. ‘I thought you usually enjoyed working at the harvest? What’s wrong, Bridie?’

  ‘O-oh, I expect it’s just me, but I can’t stand Edgar Ritter. I hate working with him. He’s the oldest of the three casual men Dad has hired for the harvest.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘I don’t know but according to Tom, his wife divorced him and he wishes he was still in the Army. He was living with another woman at Carlisle but she’s put him out and now he’s in lodgings.’

  ‘So …? Is that all you have against him?’

  ‘No-o … it’s the way he leers at me. And he never misses a chance to try and maul me if he’s anywhere near.’ She shuddered. ‘Then there’s the inconvenience of spending all day in a field without any toilets.’ Nick began to grin. ‘It’s all right for you men! It’s never been any bother to me either when men behave, but I wouldn’t trust Ritter not to – not to …’

  ‘I see.’ Nick was serious now, frowning. ‘A peeping Tom, is it?’

  ‘I’m sure he’d be that and more if I gave him any opportunity. Honestly, I hardly dare to drink, in case I need to go to the toilet during the day.’

  ‘Not drink and the weather so hot? There’s not good for you, Bridie. Can’t you be for asking your father do something?’

  ‘There’s not much he can do. We’re short of labour as it is. The odious little man is oh-so charming whenever he sees my father, but the minute his back is turned he’s making nasty comments and telling the others not to work so fast. Anyway Dad is needed in the yard to build the stacks and the men know that’s where he’ll be most of the time. Peter would be a really good worker if Ritter would leave him a
lone.’

  ‘So then, and which field will you be harvesting tomorrow?’ Nick asked thoughtfully.

  ‘The second top. When we reach the top field, I shall probably run down to the garage and join you and Conan at lunchtime, but it will be another three days before we get to that field. And that’s another thing; we lost a lovely little heifer calf yesterday. The mother had calved – without help – I expect Sandy forgot about her. The calf still had the skin over its nose and it suffocated. She is one of our very best cows too. I can’t bear the thought of them being neglected when I’m away from Lochandee every day.’

  ‘Oh, Bridie, surely your father will keep an eye on them once the harvest is finished? His cattle they are too, and he did build up the herd himself, and the farm, before you were old enough to help him.’

  ‘I know he did, and he loves the cattle as much as I do, but you should hear the plans he has for Nether Rullion now that he’s bought it. He can’t wait for Ewan to leave school and help him make changes.’

  ‘Regretting you’ve agreed to marry me, is it, and live in our new home? Right am I, Bridie?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. I-I want us to be married more than anything else in the world, but I just hate the thought of leaving Lochandee and my cows.’ She turned in the circle of Nick’s arms and raised her face to his. He bent his head in a lingering kiss, unable to resist her.

  ‘I’m glad, because there’s not much longer I can be waiting, Bridie Maxwell,’ he whispered huskily. His mouth moved to the soft hollow at her throat and his hands, strong and capable, moulded her closer and closer until she felt the desire in him.

  ‘Oh Nick, I do love you … I’m sure everything will be wonderful for us.’

  The next day a lone figure came loping over the field from the opposite direction to the farmstead. As he drew nearer, Bridie realised it was Nick and she began to smile.

  ‘Hi, Miss Maxwell, I thought I might join you for a picnic lunch today, if you’ve no objections?’ he called in his best English accent.

  ‘None at all, Mr Jones. It will be a pleasure,’ Bridie responded with a widening grin, her heart beating with delight and tenderness. How typical and how thoughtful of Nick to come and give her his moral support.

  ‘Well! That’ll be a bloody first!’ Edgar Ritter muttered scathingly. ‘We’ve not seen much sign o’ pleasure in the stuck-up little bitch.’ The smile died from Nick’s face and his eyes were cold and hard as he stared back at the man’s insolent face. ‘There’s no need tae look at me like that, man! I’m telling ye, she’s …’

  ‘My fiancée?’ Nick finished softly. He bared his teeth in a travesty of a smile and stepped closer to Ritter. ‘There’s more you were wanting to say, eh?’ His voice hardened.

  ‘Your wh-what?’ Edgar Ritter spluttered.’ Fiancée, is’t? Well, I dinna envy ye mate. She’s like a bloody iceberg.’

  ‘Duw! There’s a civil tongue in your head you’re needing. And if …’

  ‘And if I dinna,’ Edgar mocked. ‘What could a fancy bit boyo like you do, Taffy? Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief, Taffy …’ Nick took two swift strides and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, twisting it tightly until he spluttered for breath.

  ‘There’s a good lamping you’ll be getting, if you can’t stop your mouth.’

  Bridie glanced uneasily at Tom and Peter, but she was amazed to see them turn away to hide their smiles. They were enjoying seeing Ritter meet his match, she realised with relief. Nick gave one more twist and then shoved Ritter away from him with enough force to send him sprawling on his back amid the sheaves. They heard him swear profusely, as Nick took Bridie’s hand and led her away to a more secluded spot to eat their picnic in peace.

  Before he left Nick produced a whistle, like those used by policemen.

  ‘Keep this handy. If he bothers you give a good blow. We may not hear it down at the garage if we’re working on an engine, but he’s not to know that.’ He grinned. ‘The noise will probably give him the fright of his life. Now, Bridie bach, I’ll keep an eye on him while you make yourself comfortable behind that big stook. Then a really passionate kiss I’ll be needing from my girl. That will be giving him something to think about. Iceberg indeed!’ Nick chuckled at the sight of Bridie’s pink cheeks. He often had to remind himself that she was still a shy young country girl. His heart raced at the thought of making her his wife.

  ‘I’m glad I came today,’ he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her long and hard.

  ‘Mmm, so am I.’

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll come again, if I can get away.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Don’t look now but scowling fit to bring the rain on, he is. And the stupid oaf will not be forgetting you belong to me. There’s no more bother you’ll be having from him.’

  The following day, Conan arrived over the fields. He drew Bridie aside to eat their lunch.

  ‘Nick was needed to repair a binder, so he asked me to come in his place. He said you’d been having bother with one of the men?’

  ‘He’s not been so bad today. He scowls and mutters unpleasantly, but I can cope with that. It was good of you to come though, big brother. I’ve had a feeling lately that things weren’t going so well between you and Nick?’

  ‘Have you? Has Nick been complaining?’

  ‘No, he’s very loyal to you as a matter of fact, but when I mention the garage he isn’t as enthusiastic as he used to be, and he doesn’t talk about it so much now.’

  ‘He’s a good sort, old Nick, but maybe we shouldn’t have rushed into business together after the war. We shall always be good friends, I’m sure of that, but sometimes I think we both want different things from life. I want to be as great a success with my business as Dad is with his farming.’

  ‘You mean you feel you have to prove yourself to him?’ Bridie asked, biting hungrily into a bacon sandwich.

  ‘Not just that. I really want to grow bigger, to have more than one garage and a couple of buses. All Nick thinks about is getting enough money to pay off the loan he’s taken to build you a house. I’m beginning to think it would have been better if he’d moved in to Glens of Lochandee. At least that way he wouldn’t have needed to take so much money out of our business and we might have expanded a bit quicker.’

  ‘You mean that would have suited you and no one else matters! Anyway, Nick put more money into setting up the garage than you did!’ Bridie reminded him indignantly. ‘And how would you like to move in with your in-laws, if you were newly married?’

  ‘I’ve no intention of getting any in-laws. Anyway, I thought you always wanted to stay at Glens of Lochandee and go on breeding your precious pedigree Ayrshires?’

  ‘I do – well, I did. But I understand how Nick feels and I want us to have some time to ourselves, especially when we are first married …’ Bridie’s cheeks flushed at the look in Conan’s eyes. He shook his head in mock sorrow.

  ‘This thing called love!’ he teased. ‘It sure makes a fool of a man.’

  ‘You just wait until it happens to you, big brother!’

  ‘I’ll make jolly sure it never does happen.’

  ‘Don’t you want a wife? And children? You’re so good with Ewan and Lucy, Conan – surely you want a family of your own?’

  ‘It’s not something I’ve thought about. Anyway I’ve no time or money to spare for such things.’

  ‘Och, you!’ Bridie pushed him sideways. ‘You’ll just end up a crusty old bachelor. Now, just keep an eye on that awful man while I pop behind the hedge …’

  The harvest was almost over and people were already calling at Lochandee with wedding gifts. Emmie and her husband Frank called to bring a set of towels, beautifully wrapped and with a large satin bow. They stayed to chat over tea and shortbread.

  ‘I miss not having my father here to visit,’ Emmie sighed as she followed Rachel into the house.

  ‘We’ve missed him, too, lassie. And Frank’s father is not as fit as he was.’

  ‘No, we were just saying th
e same, Mistress Maxwell,’ Frank Kidd said earnestly. ‘I remember when I was here as a laddie, he could have forked a load of corn to the stack in half the time it took that new man ye’ve got.’

  ‘You saw the men working then, Frank?’

  ‘Aye, we went round by the stack yard before we came inside. I just wanted a word with Dad. You see whenever I ask Mither how she’s keeping, she just says “Fine”, but I can see she’s … she’s got something seriously wrong. She’s as skinny as a wee sparrow and I never remember her being thin.’

  ‘Aye, laddie, we’ve been anxious about Dolly too,’ Ross nodded. ‘Are you thinking it’s – it might be cancer?’

  ‘It’s what we fear, Emmie and me.’ He turned the conversation to other things, as Beth and Bridie came in from the milking.

  ‘My, it’s a fine time you two are having, working on a farm without cows to milk!’ Beth teased them with the familiarity of old friends.

  ‘Not so fine when it comes to payday though,’ Frank sighed. ‘Twenty-three bob a week doesna go far. No weekend work or overtime when there’s no cows ye see, and tractors dinna need fed and groomed like the horses do. We’ve only one pair o’ Clydesdales left now. I’d swap ye your place at Lochandee any day, Beth.’

  ‘Are you serious, Frank?’ Ross asked swiftly. ‘We shall be looking for another man at the term. It’ll not be easy getting a man as good as your father, lass.’ He looked at Emmie. ‘Bill was a grand stockman.’

  ‘Aye,’ Emmie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘But he always said how good you and Mistress Maxwell were to us when we first came to Lochandee. He never forgot.’

  ‘Well, he certainly repaid us.’

  ‘Mr Maxwell … are ye meaning? I mean, would ye consider taking me on again?’