God's Highlander

by Thompson, E. V.

  ‘Seonaid told me her mother is dead. Is she buried in Eskaig? If you tell me where her grave is, I’ll tidy it up for you. Perhaps you’d like me to take you down there some day…?’

  ‘She’s not buried in Eskaig – and I keep her grave tidy for myself. I visit it every day, sometimes twice.’

  ‘I don’t understand. There’s not another burial-ground for miles….’

  ‘Preacher Gunn wouldn’t bury her in the churchyard because she killed herself. Down in the stream it was, the first year I went blind, and with Seonaid no more than a wee bairn at the time. I buried her myself, close by where she died, next to the stone where she always kneeled to do her washing. That was the closest she ever came to praying, Minister, on her knees by the stream. I’ve prayed for her – Seonaid too, I’ve seen to that. But no preacher’s ever put his hands together on her behalf.’

  ‘Then, we’ll rectify that straightway. Show me the place.’

  Hamish Fraser walked from the house with the confidence of a man who knew the position of every item of furniture.

  Once outside, he called: ‘Seonaid, come with us, girl. The minister’s going to say a prayer at your mother’s graveside. Come now.’

  ‘You go on. I’ve been down there once today. I need to finish milking the goats if I’m to get back to the shielings.’

  For a moment it seemed Hamish would insist on his daughter accompanying them. Then he shrugged his shoulders apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Minister. She’s a good girl, but since those Rosses started calling she’s grown a mite too independent.’

  ‘You don’t like the Ross family?’ Wyatt asked the question of Fraser as he followed the blind man down a well-worn path towards a stream.

  ‘I do not. During the early years of my marriage they would have turned my own wife against me had I not put a stop to it. They’ve tried the same thing with Seonaid. When she was a child she’d sometimes run away. I knew where she went to, but since I was blind I could do nothing. I had to wait until they brought her back to me – and they wouldn’t have cared had I starved in the mean-time. It’s hard being blind, Minister. Had I not lost my sight, I’d have settled matters once and for all with Eneas Ross and those boys of his. I’m surprised Lord Kilmalie allows them to remain on his land. The Rosses have never been anything but renegades with no regard for another’s property – be it wife, daughter or livestock.’

  Wyatt would have liked to know more, but he said nothing. It would not do for a minister to become involved in family feuds.

  The stream-bank at the end of the path had been worn away by many generations of usage, and a small dam built lower down meant that a wide and deep pond had formed. The fast-moving stream kept the water fresh and clear. At the very edge of the pond was a large flat laundry-boulder, the surface worn smooth by generations of washerwomen.

  Six feet away was the grave of the late Mrs Fraser. There was no cross. The simple, slightly raised plot was little more than five feet long, and less than half as wide, the whole grave encircled by stones of varying sizes. There was also a sprig of freshly picked heather placed on the mound, and Wyatt remembered that Seonaid had admitted to visiting the grave earlier.

  Both men sank to their knees beside the unconsecrated grave, and after a short prayer Wyatt recited a portion of Psalm 103: ‘… he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.’

  After Wyatt closed his bible, Hamish Fraser remained on his knees for some minutes, tears coursing down his cheeks. When he stood up again, he clasped Wyatt’s hand in both his own. ‘Bless you, Minister. She’s waited many years to have a man of God say a prayer over her. She’ll rest easier now, I know.’

  ‘I’ll have a prayer said for her in the kirk this Sunday, too – but I still believe you’d be better off living in Eskaig village.’

  Hamish Fraser reverted to his earlier, abrupt manner. ‘You’ll never get me near that place. Never. I’d kill myself same as my Mary before I’d go, because I’d surely die once I got there. It’s not my sort of place. One cottage leaning against another; neighbours with their ears to the walls to hear all that’s going on; women gossiping behind a man’s back the minute he’s passed by….’

  ‘It’s not as bad as that, Mr Fraser. I can see that you’d miss all you have here, but one day Seonaid will want to go her own way – and you won’t be able to stay here alone.’

  ‘She’ll not leave me. Seonaid will always come back.’ Hamish Fraser spoke fiercely, causing Wyatt to look at the man sharply.

  At that moment Seonaid called: ‘Are you ready, Minister? I have cows to milk when I reach the shielings, and it’s a three-hour walk.’

  ‘I’m ready.’ Wyatt turned to bid farewell to Hamish Fraser, but the blind man had gone inside his home.

  Fourteen

  ‘THANK YOU FOR not telling Father about me … and the factor.’ Seonaid Fraser’s thanks came as she and Wyatt left the highland cottage behind them and struck out across the mountain-tops.

  ‘I wish I felt I’d done either of you a favour by remaining silent. Had I said something, your father might have decided to leave the cottage and move closer to people. He spends too much time on his own.’

  ‘That’s the way he likes to be. He doesn’t get on with other people. He’d kill himself rather than move – kill me, too, if he was to learn what I’ve been doing.’

  Wyatt knew he would soon have to do something about the relationship between Seonaid and John Garrett. He wished he possessed the experience to accomplish what he wanted without hurting any of the innocent parties concerned.

  He was still contemplating the problem when Seonaid Fraser asked: ‘Why are you coming up here to the shielings? Has it anything to do with Mairi Ross?’

  The question took Wyatt by surprise. ‘Mairi Ross? Of course not. Why should it have anything to do with her?’ Even as he spoke the words, Wyatt realised he had come very close to telling a lie. He may not have come to the shielings specifically because of Mairi Ross but, having learned the reason why the Ross family had not attended church for some weeks, he would not have carried on to the shielings had she not been there.

  ‘She talks of you a great deal. I thought there might be some sort of “understanding” between you. She’s a very nice girl, you know. If she didn’t live up here, among the hills, some man would have come along and snapped her up ages ago. Why haven’t you married?’

  Aware that Seonaid Fraser was giving him a long sidelong glance, Wyatt changed the subject. ‘Your father doesn’t seem to like the Ross family. Why?’

  ‘He doesn’t like anyone, I’ve already told you that.’

  ‘I feel it goes deeper than that – and I don’t think I’m wrong.’

  Now it was Seonaid Fraser’s turn to sink into a silence, but it did not last for long.

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Father hates Eneas Ross and anyone who bears the Ross name. It all happened years ago … because of Ma. Both Eneas Ross and my father were sweet on her, but it seems she liked Eneas better. Before he went off to join Wellington’s army she promised to wait for him. When he came back with a Spanish wife she was heartbroken, but a couple of months later she married my father. It couldn’t have been an easy life for her up here. She was used to Eskaig, where she’d had neighbours and other women to talk to. Father wouldn’t have helped much; he’s never known any life but the one we lead up here. I believe they quarrelled a lot. Sometimes when it became too much for her she’d run off to the Ross place – as much for protection as for anything else, I suppose. Father can be a very violent man. I believe he was even worse when he discovered he was going blind. I was born by then, but it didn’t seem to make any difference to the way he behaved. Magdalene Ross has said my Ma spent more time with them than she did at home. That wouldn’t have pleased Pa much, because he’s also a very jealous man. It seems that one day, after a particularly
bad row, Ma went off, leaving me behind. When she hadn’t returned after five days, Father took me with him and somehow found his way to the Ross place. Ma wasn’t there, but Eneas and his oldest boys went out searching for her. They found her in the pond, dead. Instead of being grateful for their help, Father swore that if Eneas Ross hadn’t encouraged her by letting her stay at the Ross house whenever she’d had a fight with him she’d have settled at home. There were harsh words on both sides, and Father and Eneas haven’t spoken to each other from that day to this.’

  ‘That hasn’t stopped at least one of the Ross family from coming to visit you.’

  ‘Donnie? I like him, but I haven’t encouraged him. It’s just nice to have someone my own age to talk to sometimes, that’s all.’ Seonaid Fraser hesitated a moment before speaking again. ‘The only trouble is he’s too serious. Every other week he’s asking me to marry him.’

  Wyatt remembered the youngest Ross boy. He was a tall, clean-shaven, open-faced young man.

  ‘You could do a lot worse, Seonaid.’

  ‘I’ll do a sight better – or I’ll not get wed at all. If I were to marry Donnie, I’d never get to leave the Highlands. I’d spend the rest of my life either at the Ross home or where I am now. I want more than that from life, Minister Jamieson. I’ll do anything if it means I can get away from the life of drudgery I have here.’

  ‘What does Donnie think about you and John Garrett?’ Wyatt put the question to her bluntly.

  ‘He believes it’s all malicious gossip. I told you, Minister. Donnie’s a very nice boy.’

  Seonaid Fraser’s words troubled Wyatt. She was a bright intelligent girl, but she had led a tragic lonely life. No doubt she was flattered by the attentions of John Garrett, but Donnie Ross was a red-headed volatile Highlander. Wyatt hoped the young Ross boy would do nothing foolish when he learned the truth about Seonaid, as one day he surely must.

  For the remainder of the long walk to the shielings their talk was of less contentious matters, during the course of which Wyatt learned a great deal about the men and women of his Highland parish.

  When they were still some distance from the shielings they were met by Donnie Ross. He was carrying a long-barrelled flintlock musket. The tall young man’s explanation was that he was out hunting and just happened to be in that spot. However, he was too young to be able to hide his disappointment at finding Seonaid Fraser had company.

  After an initial greeting, the trio walked in silence until Wyatt said: ‘That’s a fine old gun you’re carrying, Donnie. Is it your own?’

  Donnie Ross looked down at the musket with great pride. ‘My great-grandfather carried it at Culloden and gave it to Pa. It’s still more accurate than any other gun I’ve ever fired. It’s taken out by anyone in the family when they go hunting.’

  ‘What have you shot for the pot so far today?’

  ‘No more than a rabbit or two, and a couple of pigeons. My main task seems to be to keep foxes from the newborn calves.’

  ‘Is that so? It’s a pity you didn’t meet up with us sooner. I saw a fair-sized buck not half a mile back.’

  ‘All deer belong to the landowner. There are laws against shooting them. At least, there are for people like us.’

  ‘There were laws against owning muskets after Culloden, but you’re carrying a Jacobite musket. It’s a pity you’re not interested in shooting a buck for the pot. Lord Kilmalie told me I was welcome to hunt a deer or two if I could find the time.’

  Donnie Ross was torn between his desire to walk Seonaid Fraser to the shielings and a rare opportunity to stalk and shoot a deer without fear of retribution.

  ‘Go off and shoot a deer for us. We could do with a good meal up at the shielings.’ Seonaid Fraser helped Donnie make up his mind.

  ‘All right. Make sure there’s a good cooking-fire ready for when we get there.’

  ‘You shoot a deer before you start giving me orders about cooking it, Donnie Ross!’ Seonaid Fraser was peeved that Donnie had not argued about leaving her and going off to hunt a deer.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Wyatt said to the uncertain young man as he turned to look back at Seonaid Fraser for the third time. ‘She’ll be the proudest girl at the shielings when you return with a fine buck for the pot, but we’ll need to hurry if we’re not to lose the opportunity.’

  Wyatt had seen only one buck, but in fact it was in the company of two does. They were roe deer, not quite as wary of humans as the larger red deer but still not easy to approach. The two hunters came to within a hundred paces of the animals, but here all cover ended.

  ‘It’s now or never,’ said Wyatt. ‘Do you think you can down the buck from here?’

  Donnie Ross looked doubtful. ‘I’ll try, but I’m not as good a shot as some of my brothers.’

  The three deer were edgy, and suddenly the buck raised its head and took two short paces forward. The does, too, seemed to be on the point of flight.

  ‘Now … shoot!’

  Donnie put the gun to his shoulder, aimed quickly and fired, but the three animals were on the move before the sound of the shot echoed around the mountains. By the time the thick pall of black powder-smoke was tugged away by the wind the deer were bounding away, each fast-moving leap putting another twenty feet between them and the hunters.

  ‘Damn!’ Donnie Ross swore softly and immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Minister.’

  It was not clear whether the disconsolate hunter was apologising for his language or for missing his target.

  ‘Better marksman than you would have missed such a shot. The deer had taken fright and started running before your musket-ball was halfway there.’

  Donnie shrugged unhappily. ‘Pa wouldn’t have missed it. Neither would Mairi.’

  ‘Mairi can handle a gun?’ Wyatt was genuinely astonished. Shooting was not usually included as one of a young woman’s accomplishments.

  ‘Pa says she’s as good as he is. She learned because she was fed up with being told she couldn’t do things because she’s a girl. When she puts her mind to it she can do most things as well as any of the rest of us.’

  Once more Wyatt warmed to the uncomplicated honesty of Donnie Ross.

  ‘Let’s go and find this extraordinary sister of yours and confess to our failure as hunters. She’ll forgive us, I’m sure.’

  ‘She’d forgive you, no matter what you did,’ declared Donnie Ross. ‘I don’t know what she’ll say to me, though.’

  The two men talked easily as they walked towards the shielings. They took a different path from the one Wyatt had walked with Seonaid Fraser, the younger man guiding Wyatt across the heather-covered shoulder of a mountain that rose high above them.

  They had been walking in silence for a while when Wyatt suddenly reached out and gripped Donnie Ross by the arm, bringing him to a halt.

  Instead of offering an explanation, Wyatt pointed silently to the mountainside above and to one side of them.

  The young Ross’s glance searched the hillside for a full minute before he detected a movement and drew in his breath sharply.

  ‘It’s a stag!’

  ‘There’s more than one up there. It’s a small herd.’

  ‘They’re red deer. I’m surprised they haven’t seen us.’

  ‘They probably have, but we’re too far off at the moment to pose any threat.’ As he was speaking Wyatt was studying the terrain – and he saw what he was seeking. If he and Donnie Ross dropped down the slope a short distance, a belt of gorse would hide their progress from the sharp-eyed stag.

  Keeping the gorse between themselves and the grazing animals, the two men worked their way slowly and cautiously along the mountain slope, not risking so much as a glance towards the spot where they had last seen the deer. But eventually the gorse came to an end and there was nothing ahead but low-growing heather. Signalling for his companion to remain low, Wyatt slowly – very slowly – raised his head above the level of the bushes.

  There was not an animal in sight.


  Wyatt conveyed the news to Donnie Ross in a hoarse whisper. The young man surveyed the scene with equal caution before crouching beside Wyatt once more.

  ‘There’s a slight ridge about fifty feet above us. I believe they must be grazing on the other side.’

  Wyatt looked again. ‘I think you’re right. Let’s go and find out.’

  Leaving the cover of the gorse, the two men made their way to the ridge with even more caution than before. Wyatt was the first to reach it and he chose a spot where there was a small outcrop of rock. Raising his head very, very slowly, he suddenly froze, his hand motioning for Donnie Ross to remain perfectly still.

  When he pulled back again, Wyatt whispered excitedly: ‘There’s a young stag no more than a hundred paces away. Is your musket loaded and primed?’

  Donnie Ross shook his head. ‘Can I take a look?’

  ‘Yes, but be careful.’

  Moments later the younger Ross was back beside Wyatt. ‘It’s too far. I couldn’t hit it from here.’

  ‘We’ll never have a better shot. They’re grazing away from us….’ Wyatt hesitated for only a moment more. ‘Pass me the gun. Powder and shot, too.’

  Donnie Ross’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re going to try a shot?’

  Wyatt was already measuring a quantity of coarse black powder in the palm of his hand. He added a pinch more before pouring it carefully into the end of the long barrel. A ball wrapped in a small canvas patch followed and was rammed down carefully and silently.

  Donnie Ross followed the loading ritual closely and shook his head. ‘You’ll probably miss. Pa’s the only man I know who might score a hit at this range.’

  Wyatt completed his preparations for firing from the ancient flintlock and made a last-minute check on flint and pan. All was as it should be. It felt ‘right’. The feel of a well-loaded musket. Something that no training sergeant could impart to a recruit. It was a feeling he had forgotten until now.