‘You’ll be comfortable enough on your bed,’ said Tibbie mischievously. ‘Mairi made it herself from fresh new heather. I’ve never known her take so much trouble over anything before. You should sleep like a newborn babe.’
Sixteen
SUPPER WAS A very pleasant meal. Donnie returned to the fire in a better humour, and Tibbie refrained from criticising him about Seonaid Fraser. One of the older women sent across a generous jar of whisky ‘for the minister’, and there was enough to be passed around among the four of them.
After the meal was over, Tibbie wearily announced that hard work, a meat supper and a prayer meeting were all too much for her to take in one day and she was going to bed. She had been gone only a few minutes when Donnie picked up his flintlock musket and said he would check the herd-boys. There had been a fox on the prowl for a few nights.
‘Has he really gone to check on the herd-boys?’ Wyatt asked the question of Mairi when Donnie had gone.
‘He’ll check every one,’ confirmed Mairi, adding what Wyatt already knew: ‘Donnie’s incapable of telling a lie. It doesn’t mean he’ll come straight back here, mind you….’
‘You’re not as set against Seonaid as Tibbie is?’
‘Seonaid’s no better and no worse than a girl with her background ought to be.’
‘You mean, because her mother committed suicide and she has a blind father to cope with?’
‘There’s few up here in the mountains who believe Seonaid’s mother committed suicide. Hamish Fraser could see well enough at that time to have followed his wife when she went off on one of her “visits” – or so I’ve heard said. But I’m only repeating gossip. As for Seonaid … I don’t believe all I’ve heard, but I wouldn’t care to see her marry Donnie. He deserves better.’
‘Does Donnie know of John Garrett’s interest in the girl?’
Mairi’s surprise was too great to keep hidden. ‘You know about that? You have worked hard on getting to know what’s happening here, Minister Jamieson. No, I don’t think Donnie’s heard the rumours about Seonaid and the factor. If he has, he’s dismissed them, just as he has all the other rumours about her. As far as Donnie’s concerned, Seonaid can do no wrong.’
‘I’ve known far worse girls than Seonaid Fraser who’ve made very good wives….’ Wyatt hesitated. ‘And I’d like you to call me Wyatt. I feel we know each other well enough for that.’
Wyatt’s words gave Mairi a warm glow inside, but instead of allowing her feelings to show she said: ‘You must know a great many people “well”, Minister Jamieson. I seem to recall that you and Miss Garrett are on first-name terms.’
‘You have a wonderfully selective memory, Mairi Ross, but we were talking about your brother and Seonaid. No doubt the situation will resolve itself by next year when Donnie goes off with his brothers … for the sheep.’
‘What do you know of the sheep? Who told you?’
Mairi’s questions came back too quickly, confirming the suspicion Wyatt already held. The sons of Eneas Ross had gone to the lowlands not to buy sheep but to steal them.
‘Your father told me only that your brothers had gone to bring back some sheep. The inference was they would be buying them, but I suspected the truth. When I was in Glasgow I heard talk about Highlanders reverting to the old ways. Raiding sheep-farms in the lowlands and bringing the animals back here with them.’
‘I’m not saying that is what the boys are doing but, if they are, who has the right to say they’re doing wrong? The sheepmen come here to graze their sheep on the mountains, offering the landowners more money than they’ve ever seen before – on condition the crofters and cottars are cleared. They’re stealing our lands, our homes, our whole way of life. Are we wrong to fight back?’
‘What your brothers are doing is not “fighting back”, Mairi. It’s stealing, and stealing is wrong.’
‘So you side with the landowners? I should have expected it, I suppose. At first I thought … I believed you were different.’
‘I’m pointing out that stealing is wrong. It’s against God’s law and it’s contrary to the laws of the land. The good Lord may be prevailed upon to forgive sinners, but the law isn’t so understanding, and it’s the law I’m particularly concerned about right now. I told you I heard talk in Glasgow about sheep-stealing. It was said the government had agreed to use the militia to guard the flocks. What happens if your brothers come up against militiamen instead of unarmed shepherds?’
‘Do you really think they might?’ Mairi’s eyes were deep dark shadows in the firelight.
‘I think it’s highly likely. Is it possible to go after them and bring them back?’
Mairi shook her head. ‘They’ve been gone too long. They’re due back any day now.’
‘Then, I trust for everyone’s sake they haven’t been caught. A sheep-stealing raid originating on Kilmalie land would give Garrett all the excuse he needs to clear every tenant from these mountains.’
‘Ian’s with them. He won’t let them do anything stupid.’ Mairi’s words expressed more confidence than she felt. Ian, Tibbie’s husband, liked to think things through before doing anything, but he would not be expecting militiamen to be guarding the lowland sheep.
‘I’ll go home and have a word with Pa tomorrow. He’ll know what can be done. Now I must take these dishes to the burn and clean them ready for the morning.’ Mairi wanted something to take her mind off her concern for her brothers.
‘I’ll carry them down to the burn for you.’
Mairi looked at Wyatt quizzically. ‘I hardly need help to carry four plates.’
‘All the same, I’ll carry them.’
It was a moonless night, but the sky was liberally sprinkled with stars. These, coupled with the many cooking-fires dotted about the shielings, made progress to the stream easy. Along the way they passed a number of women returning, and Wyatt wondered whether it was his imagination that put a depth of meaning in their polite ‘Good night to you, Mairi. Good night, Minister’.
He knew it had not been imagination when Mairi said: ‘Your reputation will be in tatters after this … Wyatt.’
Main’s use of his Christian name for the first time gave Wyatt a ridiculous sense of pleasure. ‘If that’s true, you’ll need to make an honest man of me and stop their tongues wagging.’
He regretted the weak joke as soon as he had made it. Mairi made no reply and did not speak again until they were both kneeling in the darkness at the edge of the stream.
‘Is this what camp life was like when you were a soldier?’ Mairi’s soft-voiced question broke her long silence.
‘On the good nights, perhaps, although the company often left much to be desired.’
‘What of the women Ma has told me about?’
‘She remembers the Peninsular campaigns. My active service was spent in Africa. The few women who accompanied us there were left in a township on the coast.’
‘Has there never been a woman in your life?’
‘No one in particular. There was one, a distant cousin. I expected to see more of her when I returned from Africa, but she married and moved to America while I was away.’
‘Were you very upset?’
‘Not that I can recall. A little disappointed, perhaps, but by then I had my mind set on the Church.’
‘You’re an unusual minister, Wyatt. Very different from Preacher Gunn. You can shoot, you take the side of the Highlanders – and you’re not eager to condemn.’
‘We all have our own way of doing things. I’ve seen too much of life and men’s weaknesses and strengths to think I know everything. I don’t doubt that many of those who live in Eskaig wish they had a minister more like their last one.’
‘I like your way of doing things much better. You make God sound like someone real. Someone who cares. Preacher Gunn made Him sound like someone who was watching just so He could catch us out when we did anything wrong.’
Wyatt stood up and placed the plates on the grass while he wiped his
hands on the kerchief he carried. ‘I learned about God from my father. He never doubted for one minute of his life that God cares deeply for each and every one of us. He was right, although it sometimes wasn’t easy to believe when I watched men dying in agony on a battlefield.’
Mairi rose to her feet, too, and as she did so put a hand on Wyatt’s arm. Whether it was an expression of sympathy, or because she felt herself slipping on the soft wet earth, was uncertain, but slip she certainly did. If Wyatt had not caught her, she would have fallen into the stream.
Regaining her balance, she laughed. When Wyatt made no move to release her she fell silent. When he drew her close she did not pull away. Then he was kissing her as he had never before kissed anyone, and she responded with an ardour that equalled his own. For a few minutes the lust of the flesh became a reality to the man of God.
Wyatt pulled back from her, his thoughts in a turmoil. ‘Mairi … I’m sorry.’
He was still holding her, and she said: ‘If you really feel you need to say sorry, then I’m sorry, too.’
‘I shouldn’t have done that…. It wasn’t right….’
Mairi pulled herself free of his grasp. ‘You needn’t worry yourself. I won’t tell anyone. Your reputation may be dented by what the other women are thinking, but that’s all. Anyway, it was only a kiss….’
‘I don’t care what anyone says or thinks about me. Right now I’d happily shout it from the pulpit that I’ve kissed you.’
Despite the darkness, Wyatt knew Mairi was smiling again.
‘I think that’s the way I feel, too, so what is there to be sorry about?’
‘I didn’t want it to end there, Mairi. I had thoughts I’ve never had before. Thoughts I stand in my kirk and preach against….’
Suddenly Mairi kissed him again, but she stepped back quickly before he could take hold of her. ‘I’m glad, Minister Wyatt Jamieson. It means you’re human, the same as anyone else. I’d hate to grow overfond of a man who planned to become a saint.’
Before the import of her words had fully registered, they both heard a sound from nearby and fell silent instinctively. A minute or so later two people passed by at some distance, talking quietly. It was too dark to see any more than that the couple were very close to each other, but their low voices gave them away.
‘It’s Donnie,’ hissed Mairi.
‘And Seonaid,’ agreed Wyatt.
‘I knew it! I knew they’d be up to no good if I didn’t keep watch on them every minute of the day and night.’
‘Where are you going?’ Wyatt caught Mairi’s arm before she could hurry after the young couple who had now passed from hearing.
‘To find out what she’s been up to with Donnie….’
‘Will you tell them what we were doing here when we heard them?’
‘Had they been doing no more, I wouldn’t be concerned, but they’ve done more than kiss, or her name’s not Seonaid Fraser.’
‘You don’t know that, Mairi. Folk who saw us here might say the same about us.’
‘Oh, no! Donnie isn’t a minister of the Church, and Seonaid Fraser isn’t a Ross – nor will she be if I have anything to say about the matter. Come on, I’ve things to say to that young brother of mine.’
Mairi’s questioning did not take place that night. Wyatt and Mairi were no more than halfway back to the cooking-fire when a shout went up from farther down the glen. It brought the occupants of the shielings running from their makeshift shelters. A fox, or probably two, had eluded the herd-boys and attacked a calf born only that evening. Before the boys drove off the attackers the calf’s throat had been torn open, and the unfortunate animal lay gasping out its brief life on the turf.
The rumpus so frightened the other cattle that a number of them stampeded along the glen. They met the Highland women running towards the scene and split up, running in half a hundred different directions.
It was close to dawn before the last animal was returned to the shielings, and the moment of reckoning for Donnie Ross had been put off until another time.
Seventeen
MAIRI WALKED AS far as her home with Wyatt. There was a vague feeling of embarrassment between them, although all the long silences originated with the Eskaig preacher. Mairi chattered about the problem of Donnie, her worries about the other brothers, life at the shielings…. Anything except her relationship with the man walking beside her.
Not until they were in sight of the stunted trees sheltering the Ross cot did Wyatt mention the incident that had kept him silent during the long walk from the shielings.
‘Mairi, I want to speak to you. About what happened last night.’
Mairi stopped walking and turned to look at him.
‘Do you mean the attack on the poor calf by the foxes?’ she asked innocently. ‘They’ve found the foxes’ lair. Donnie will lie in wait for them today. It won’t happen again.’
‘That isn’t what I want to talk about.’
‘Oh? Then, perhaps you have an answer to the problem of Donnie and Seonaid Fraser? I’ll be obliged to you if you have.’
‘Mairi, you know very well it’s us I want to discuss.’
‘Are you going to tell me you’re sorry once again?’
‘No … well, yes….’
Never in all his life had Wyatt been so tongue-tied and confused. Mairi did not suffer the same problem.
‘I don’t want to listen.’
She began to walk on, faster than before. When Wyatt caught up with her and tried to speak again, she cut him short.
‘You’re so anxious to apologise that I can only believe you wish nothing had happened. All right, forget it, if that’s what you want. I won’t tell anyone that “the minister” kissed me. Anyway, I expect you kissed so many girls when you were a soldier that forgetting one more won’t matter too much to you.’
When Wyatt brought her to a halt Mairi looked up at him defiantly, only her eyes giving any hint of the solid cold unhappiness inside her.
‘I’m not apologising for kissing you. I wanted to. I … I just don’t think it should have happened the way it did, hidden by darkness. I ought to have said something to you first. I don’t want you getting the idea … the idea you have. There have been few women in my life. You’re very special to me. I wanted you to know this.’
It was the most difficult speech he had ever put together, far harder than the sermon at his induction as minister of Eskaig, but the expression on Mairi’s face told Wyatt it had been a success.
‘Thank you for saying that, Wyatt. About it being special, I mean. It was special for me, too. Very special. As for it being dark when you kissed me … it’s not dark now.’
He kissed her, and she clung to him to make it last as long as the breath in her would allow. When they reluctantly drew apart, she said shakily: ‘I hope you’re not going to apologise again.’
‘No.’ He took her hand and began walking towards the hidden cot. ‘But I think we need to talk a little.’
Their talk had to be deferred. They had walked no more than a few paces when a voice hailed them from the direction of the cot. They looked up to see a tall young man waving to them.
‘It’s Dugald!’ Mairi released Wyatt’s hand and returned the greeting. Dugald was one of her brothers. ‘The boys must be back.’
However, all the Ross brothers had not yet returned from their sheep-‘buying’ expedition to the lowlands. When Mairi enquired about the others Dugald replied vaguely that they had sent him on ahead to let their father know of their plans. They should be arriving with the sheep in a few days’ time.
‘You had no trouble?’ Mairi put the question as her father came from the house and greeted the Eskaig minister with a nod.
‘It was the easiest trip we’ve ever made,’ replied her brother proudly. ‘You’ve never seen such sheep. You’d think we’d rounded up cattle by mistake!’
Silencing his son with a frown, Eneas Ross asked Mairi: ‘What made you think there might have been trouble?’
‘If there’s a drought in the lowlands, it’s blamed on the Highlanders,’ retorted Eneas Ross. ‘If they come here seeking their sheep, they’ll end up chasing their own tails. They’ll find nothing.’
Eneas Ross’s manner was scornful, but Wyatt knew the ex-Scots Guardsman was no fool. He would heed Wyatt’s warning and take whatever action might be necessary.
Dugald Ross was absent from the meal of bread, cheese and new-made butter brought from the shielings by Mairi. No excuse was made for the young man’s absence, but Wyatt had seen father and son engaged in earnest conversation a short while before.
Later, when Wyatt was preparing to leave the cot, Magdalene Ross called from where she was working at the kitchen table beneath a window, to say that two horsemen were approaching from the direction of Eskaig.
With thoughts of the militia uppermost in his mind, Wyatt was first to reach the door. Magdalene Ross had been only partly correct. The riders were still far off in the distance, but it was possible to see that one of them was mounted upon a donkey.
It was Coll Kennedy. The other rider was well wrapped in a cloak and a hat and was unrecognisable at this distance. Not until the horse was urged forward at a brisk trot was Wyatt able to see that its rider was not a man, but a woman. It was Evangeline Garrett.
Wyatt was even more surprised when the horse was pulled to a halt only a few paces from the gate where he was now standing. Evangeline leaped to the ground and ran to embrace him warmly, an expression of great relief on her face.
‘Wyatt, where have you been? We were all so worried when you never returned last night. I wanted to organise a search party for you. I would have, too, had Alasdair not persuaded me to wait until today. At this very moment he and the Eskaig villagers are searching around the banks of Loch Eil. What have you been doing?’
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