Molly wrung her hands then smoothed the fabric she had just cut. Katherine had an annoying way of bringing folks around to her way of thinking. But letting the hut to Highlanders sounded like more trouble than good.
Katherine pointed to the light blue wool dress draped over the chair. “Is that the lady’s gown?”
“Aye. I’m just making the Spencer for it.”
“And that one?” Katherine walked to the magenta colored dress hung on a peg.
“’Tis Grace Campbell’s.”
“Verra fine. I will bring the chaps to church in the morn. ’Twill give ye a chance to meet them and perhaps soften to lettin the hut to them. The older one, Grant, has been in construction so may look for road or bridge work.”
Molly again folded her arms across her chest. “’Twould mean cooking for them.”
“Aye, like ye does fer yer brother and yerself … but with extra funds.”
Molly rolled her eyes.
Katherine glanced over her shoulder as she reached the door. “See ye in the morn at church.”
Grant studied the tall spire on the front of a large rectangular-shaped church constructed of basalt. ’Twas old but finer than anything at home any closer than Inverness. Katherine introduced the clergyman and his wife to them outside the main entrance, and they seemed pleasant enough. He and Keith followed her into the church. The attendees seated in the pews numbered about twenty. There was a box seat in front for the local gentry.
Katherine whispered to him. “St. Guaire’s. ’Twas in ruins but rebuilt almost ten years back.” She led them to a pew halfway down the aisle from the chancel and smiled at folks around as they took their seats.
Grant studied the other parishioners. A good mix of couples, individuals, and families. Across the aisle and up a row was a lad about Keith’s age who kept staring at them. Next to him was a lass who did not look old enough to be his mother. When she glanced their way, she had an irked expression on her face. A bonny lass, fair and in her twenties.
The service proceeded with the readings, prayers, and hymn singing. Grant relaxed despite the formality of the service. The peaceful expression on Keith’s face reassured him. Perhaps Ma was right to encourage them to come here. If they could get settled nearby and if he could find work, this could provide a better future. As the congregation stood for the final hymn, the lad across the aisle turned and stared until the woman elbowed him.
At the end of the service, when he started to leave, Katherine grasped his sleeve. He put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. There was obviously a protocol observed. They could leave after the clergy recessed. The gentry left the nave before the rest of the congregation.
Exiting the church, Katherine slipped her arm through his. A kindly gesture from a relative he had known less than twenty-four hours. Keith was gazing at the tall narrow windows in awe. The lad’s world had truly expanded since they left home.
Katherine pulled on his arm. “Come, I want ye to meet some of the church members.” She was definitely directing them this morning.
“Molly, Scott,” his aunt called out as she approached the woman and lad he had noticed earlier in church. “I want to introduce ye to my nephews.” The young woman faced them.
Grant pulled Keith alongside. One look into her sea-blue eyes took his breath away. What a stunner. The lass could not have been more than four and twenty, with fair skin and reddish blonde locks peeking out from beneath her bonnet. The expression on her face suggested she anticipated the introduction and was anything but pleased. The lad next to her eyed both he and Keith with wariness.
Outside, the five of them moved off to the side, away from the congregants, but still within the stone-walled churchyard and the adjacent cemetery.
“These are my nephews, Grant and Keith Cummings. And this is my friend Molly MacGregor and her brother Scott.”
Grant nodded. “Nice to make yer acquaintance.”
The lass had a stern look when she curtsied. “What brings ye to Aghadowey, Mr. Cummings?”
She was direct if not welcoming. “Evictions in the Highlands, so I’m seekin work here near our aunt.” Her eyebrows raised at his mention of the Highlands. A Lowland snob? He had met enough of them in the past.
“Is there good fishin here?” Keith’s question lightened the heavy atmosphere and distracted from the lass’s reserved stare.
“Salmon ’n trout.” The towhead seemed as suspicious as his sister.
Miss MacGregor’s voice was soft but formal. “I understand yer looking for lodging. I have a hut we could let to ye on a trial basis, say for a month. If it works out for each of us, we could extend it.”
Her reserve made sense now. The lass must have been who Katherine left to call on yesterday. Grant nodded. “Thank ye. Sounds like a fair agreement.”
Katherine nodded, smiling as she looked between him and the young lass.
“Fine. Come around three today for tea. We can work out the details.” She motioned for her brother, and they headed out of the enclosed churchyard and toward the direction of Aunt Katherine’s home.
CHAPTER 6
MOLLY WALKED AS FAST as she could once out of eyeshot from the church. Had she lost her mind? Letting to Highlanders was rife with problems. For all she knew he was a drinking, brawling, cursing man. Pa would be turning over in his grave. Being charitable and putting up Highlanders made no sense, but she needed the income. She would have dismissed Katherine’s plea entirely were it not for the Reverend Mr. Campbell’s meddling in this morning’s sermon.
“Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
“Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble.”
The wind kicked up, and she put one hand to her bonnet to keep it from flying off.
“Why are we running home from church?” Scott called.
“We need to get back and finish cleaning out the hut.” Molly glanced to her right as they passed Katherine’s cottage. Even Katherine’s words had come back and bitten her. “Ye have inherited yer pa’s prejudice for Highlanders. My nephews have little resources and ye has a hut to let.”
Scott caught up to her. “Ye really going to let them live in our hut? The fellow said they were from the Highlands. Pa would skelp ye if he knew ye would house them.”
“Well, Pa’s not here, and neither are his wages.” The wind was in full force now, and the clouds signaled rain. There would be no burning rubbish from the hut today. “When we get home, change out of yer Sunday clothes and help me.”
“Aye.” Scott, still shaking his head, raced to keep pace with her.
At the front walk, she grabbed Scott’s arm. “When they get here, be well-mannered. We can show them how civilized folk behave. And be welcoming to the lad. He just lost his ma.” She went inside and removed her Spencer jacket and bonnet. As she changed into her work clothes, she glanced at the table, half covered with her sewing project. “Humph! Now we will need four spaces to eat. I’ll be forever putting things aside.”
Fifteen minutes later, she was tossing unneeded items from the hut into a crate. “Scott, fetch me a bucket of water and carry this crate and empty it into the burn pit.” When they had done that, she carried the empty crate back to the hut.
Scott followed her. “The pallets look …”
“I know, I know. Help me bring them outside so I can swat the dust from them.” When that task was completed, and the straw mattresses were returned to their wooden frames, she washed the small window adjacent to the door. Back at the cottage, she gathered blankets for the pallets, towels, and a cloth to cover the wooden crate. When everything was in place, she scanned the confined area. Not much of a table but it would do in such a small space. “Something for washing.” She ran back to the cottage and found a bowl, and a pitcher of water to place on the crate.
“Are we done yet?” No mistaking Scott’s annoyance.
“Aye, ’tis
good enough. Wait, make sure the privy is presentable and go see to Gertie and Clara while I make some cock-a-leekie soup.” She scanned the dwelling. Ye needn’t be concerned. They will be gone in a month or be looking for something better once they get established.
At five till three, Scott, eyes wide, came scurrying through the door of the cottage. “They are coming down the road.”
Molly peered out the window. Sure enough, Katherine walked alongside the older one. What was his name again? Agh! She whisked off her soiled apron then went to the mirror hanging in her bedroom. Some of her hair had fallen out of the braided knot fastened high on the back of her head. She scrambled for extra pins to tuck them in before returning to the main room.
Katherine entered with the Highlanders. The older one had to stoop to get through the door.
He nodded in greeting and handed her a fistful of heather. “We appreciate yer havin us.”
She took the heather. “Ta. ’Tis June and about the only thing blooming yet. Have a seat, and I will pour ye some tea. We have cock-a-leekie if yer hungry.”
Both brother’s eyes lit up as if they had been offered a prize. The older one’s smile was friendly. “’Tis most kind of ye.”
Katherine set down a basket and helped dish the soup. “There are scones for ye in the basket. My nephews have been here but a day, ’n already Grant has helped with some needed repairs. Ye four sit at the table.” Katherine sat on Scott’s pallet with a bowl of the soup. “’Tis nice and soft.”
Molly squinted at her neighbor. Katherine was not a bit subtle in suggesting the benefits of letting to these two. “I thought after we ate I could show ye the hut, and we could discuss terms.”
“I’m obliged.” He had a disarming way of looking directly at her.
She ate little as she observed the brothers. His name was Grant, same as Katherine’s name, and Keith. Grant was a looker, tall, well built, nice smile, and probably full of himself. Best add no female guests to the rules.
“The cock-a-leekie is grand. ’Tis bin weeks since we had anythin this good.”
“I’m glad ye like it.” She best be wary. He was a charmer.
The freckle-faced lad seemed to like the soup, too. “How old are ye, Keith?”
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and swallowed hard. “I’m eight.”
Scott sat tall and put his chin back. “I’m seven, but turn eight in August, just in time for flax harvesting. Do ye work the flax where ye come from?”
“I helped.” Keith pointed to the spinning wheel in the corner. “Ma was a spinner. She used one of them.”
Scott nodded. “Pa was a weaver ’n worked in the mill till he passed.”
Katherine came alongside her as she cleared the bowls from the table. “I will take care of these while ye show the lads around.”
“Verra well.” She walked around the table just as Grant stood. The cottage shrunk with him standing over her not two feet away. “Watch yer head.” She led the way outside and in the direction of the hut.
The wood door to the hut had been left open to air the small room. They need not know how musty it smelled a few hours ago. “’Tis wee, but clean and dry.” She stood outside while Grant ducked and entered.
“We have a horse and pony,” he said as he came out of the small hut.
“There is a paddock yonder.” She pointed to a small makeshift barn. “And a water trough and food there.” She stood by the stone wall while the lads ran to where Clara and Gertie were feeding in the pasture. When they were out of earshot, she faced the man standing only three feet away and quoted a price for the month.
“’Tis agreeable.”
“But there are some conditions to yer staying.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “There will be no drinking on the premises … or coming back here drunk. Ye are to use the privy to relieve yerselves. And there will be no cursing, brawling, loud … caterwauling, and no female guests.” The man’s brows raised, his blue eyes widened. Was he stunned or was he fighting back a grin?
“We can agree to yer edicts. Canna even remember the last time I caterwauled.”
CHAPTER 7
GRANT AND KEITH RETRIEVED their scant belongings from Katherine’s and stowed them in the hut. Grant stood by the open door, gazing at the cottage, a stone’s throw away. “’Tis a meager shack, but ’twill have to do for now. Aunt Katherine said ye could spend tomorrow with her while I search out employment.”
Keith sat on one of the pallets. “Miss Molly seems nice, perhaps a bit stern.” He examined the cramped quarters. “At least ’tis clean ’n the rain didna come in.”
Grant laughed. “She is all business.” He sat on the other pallet. “Her reserve might change when she gets to know us better.” The lass definitely had an attitude and some odd notions about Highlanders. Had she ever even met one before?
“About tomorrow, what if Scott wants to go fishin?”
“Dinna ye bring it up. See if he does. I say we ease in to these friendships. Aunt will be expectin ye.” Grant ran his fingers through his hair. “Now let’s go to the cottage. The lass said they would have a light supper for us.”
Scott opened the door for them. His sister was clearing some fabric and sewing notions off the table. When they entered, she stopped and smoothed her skirt. “We have some bread and cheese with our tea. Please, sit.” She motioned for them to sit at the table in the center of the room before placing a bowl of soft cheese and a round of bread. “’Tis not much but we only have one goat and cow.”
Grant waited to see if she would offer a blessing while she eyed him like she was wondering the same. “May I offer a blessing?” He would show her they were not the heathens she took them for.
She nodded.
“We are thankful, God, for providing shelter ’n ask Yer blessings on this home ’n this meal ... ’n all who dwell here.”
Her blue-green eyes still had that uncertain expression. Stange, she was too bonny to not be married. Perhaps she was promised. “Do the young folk get any schoolin here?” Education was probably not something she expected him to inquire about. One side of her lip turned up. Was it surprise? Or disbelief?
“As a matter of fact, Scott and a couple of the local lads spend time with yer aunt several days a week for reading, writing, and sums when they are not busy with planting and harvesting.”
He held back his laugh when Keith’s shoulders sagged. “Just as we thought, lad, livin here wouldna be much different than the Highlands.” He slathered some of the soft cheese onto a piece of bread. “So tomorrow, ye go to Aunt Katherine’s, lad, while I look for work.”
The next day Molly had been spinning for over an hour when the Cummings brothers came at half past six in the morning. “Help yerselves to tea, scones, and jelly.” She dipped her fingers in the cup of water and continued to work the flax. The older one was studying the garments hanging on pegs near one of the windows. “I’m a spinner and a seamstress. That is why the area is in disarray at times.” She continued spinning. ’Twould take some getting used to having them for meals, but the income was a necessity.
Grant nodded. “Yer work is verra handsome. Someone will be pleased with these.”
“Since Pa passed, we are dependent on what I earn, so I dare not slow down.” They may as well know, so as not to expect much from her.
Grant got up from the table. “Sorry to hear of yer loss. I will take Keith to Katherine’s afore heading to Agivey. I dinna know what my work demands will be but I’m happy to help out where I can. Thank ye for the meal.”
Grant helped Scott clear the table of the empty dishes. Pa had never done that.
Grant picked up his coat. “Ye want to come along with us, Scott, to our aunt’s home? I will need the horse to get to Agivey, but ye two can walk.”
“I will be there later, after my chores.”
Grant motioned for his brother to follow. “Good day to ye then.”
Keith smiled and waved when he reached the door. “See ye.”
Molly rose from behind the wheel and moved her sewing materials back to the table. “Go now, get yer work done so ye can get to Miss Katherine’s.”
“I will.” Scott stood by the table looking up at her, frowning as if he had a secret.
“Ye has something to confess? I’m not going to scutch ye.”
He stood back. “They dinna seem so bad … for Highlanders.”
“Hmm. We shall see. Be off with ye, now.”
There was a knock at the door. Molly glanced at the clock on the hutch. Quarter past ten. Who could be calling when she had so much to do? Not Katherine, the lads were with her. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and opened the door. She curtsied. “Mrs. McGuire, come in.” The small room was not as tidy as she would have it to welcome a guest of her rank. “I was not expecting ye. I thought I was to come to yer home for a fitting. Was there a misunderstanding?”
“Nay.” The lady’s generous figure was complimented by her printed linen day dress. Her plain Spencer and a straw bonnet provided the perfect balance. Mrs. McGuire scanned the room like she expected to find something. “I was curious to see your progress on my order.” She came further into the room, and her brows lifted when she spotted her garments hanging on the far wall.
Mrs. McGuire felt the soft woolen fabric holding it out to better assess the progress. “’Tis lovely, and such fine tailoring on the Spencer jackets. You were right. The dark blue goes well with the lighter blue gown as does the plaid one.”
Molly took a deep breath. Relief. The woman had not come to cancel her order. “May I offer ye some tea?”
“Nay, but thank you.” Mrs. McGuire walked toward the hearth beyond the opposite end of the table and stared out the window.
There was more going on here than a visit to check on her sewing progress. Molly tapped her foot on the slate floor. “May I be of further assistance, ma’am? I am happy to bring yer garments for a fitting, say the day after tomorrow.”
The Highlanders Page 17