The Highlanders

by Ciesielski, J’nell

  “Do I understand correctly, you are renting your shack to Highlanders?”

  So that was it. News traveled faster here than the wind. “Aye, we are. Katherine Grant’s kin arrived in town and needed a place to live. Her cottage couldna accommodate them, and I had a hut to let.” Of what possible interest would that be to the landowner’s housekeeper?

  “’Tis very close, not fifteen feet away.” A troubled expression formed on the lady’s face. “Are you not concerned how it might appear?”

  “Not at all. Many women find it necessary to run inns or boarding houses. Mine just happens to be a wee hut. I’m thankful I have such a spot to let and provide extra income for my brother and myself, particularly now that our father is gone.” The woman’s lips pursed. Please, Lord, dinna let this rob me of her business.

  Mrs. McGuire glanced again at her new garments and shook her head. “You do very fine work, Miss MacGregor. Please bring them Wednesday at four for the fitting.”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  With that, Mrs. McGuire walked to the door and stepped outside.

  Molly stood in the doorway as Mrs. McGuire got into her chaise and turned onto the road. Why should letting the hut be anyone else’s business? Was the woman’s insinuation because they were Highlanders or that they were males? No matter. They likely wouldn’t stay long anyway. Was letting to them going to bring more trouble than the coins they would furnish?

  It was nearly seven when Grant returned to Katherine’s cottage. A light shone through the window even though it would be a couple of hours before dark. Was Keith still there, or had he and Scott returned home? Home. What a thought. He was already thinking of the wee hut as home. Had the day gone well for the lad? He hoped so. All in all, it had been a successful day being taken on to work on the Agivey Bridge repairs. If this went well, there was the promise of other jobs ahead.

  Katherine opened the door and greeted him with a grin. “Come in and tell me about yer day. Were ye able to find work?”

  He surveyed the room. Where was Keith? “Aye, I did, Aunt, just as ye suggested … at the Agivey Bridge. What about Keith? Did he fare well the day?”

  She smiled. “He did. We did some readin and sums so I could judge where he was in his learnin. Keith is a bright lad. Isabella, Duncan, and ye have done a good job raisin him.”

  “Ta. ’Tis to our parents’ credit. I was gone for years. Is Keith back at the MacGregors’?” Had all gone well with the lass and her brother today? Working in Agivey, while only three miles away, would mean being gone long days.

  “Those two were like bread and butter.” Katherine laughed. “After a time of studies, they went back and forth about fishin and huntin. They left here after three, gabbin about goin back to the cottage to gather the gear and go to the river. The Aghadowey has grand fishin.”

  “I’m glad to hear the lad had a good day. He tries to be cheerful when at times I know he is down after losin Ma.” He squeezed Katherine’s hand. “Thank ye for all ye hae done for us, carin for Keith, locatin a place to bide, ’n suggestin where to find work. ’Tis been a successful day, and ye have been a blessin.”

  “’Tis the Lord. He knows what ye has been through and has gone before ye and made a way.”

  “Sure seems so. I best git back to the hut ’n see how Keith is farin. Doin well with Miss MacGregor, I hope.”

  “Molly’s a good lass, upright, responsible, ’n kindhearted.” Katherine tilted her head with a knowing look. “Smart ’n bonny, too.”

  “And opinionated when it comes to Highlanders.”

  “Hmm, that too. Good luck.”

  “Ta.” Grant walked toward the door but stopped when he opened it. “How come the bonny, upright, responsible, ’n kindhearted lassie is not married? Or is she spoken for?”

  “Not spoken for.” Katherine winked then winced. “Molly is a wee bit bullheaded.”

  CHAPTER 8

  SÉAMUS SLAMMED THE PAPER on top of the creamy linen on the table. “Ye cannot let the hut to those Highlanders. Think how it looks in town for ye to be having them living not fifteen feet away. Yer reputation would be besmirched in no time.”

  Breathing heavily, Molly grabbed the paper. She would not risk the ink soiling her fabric. “Yer insinuations are nasty, Séamus Macaulay. Folks let out rooms and dependencies all the time. With Pa gone, we need the income.” She stood, head up, shoulders back, and her hands on hips. “I’m letting the hut out to them, so ye may as well go.”

  He pointed to the invoice in her hand. “I will be by in a week to get the payment for yer pa’s services.” His face was red right up to his receding hairline. “The landlord may appreciate knowing yer making money off his property.”

  “’Tis no different than selling from my garden. Yer just being vindictive because I wouldna marry ye.”

  Loud voices came from the cottage as Grant approached. Please, dinna let it be about Keith. He tied his horse to the rail and patted its side. “I will be back to care for ye in a bit.” He hesitated a moment before knocking on the cottage door.

  Molly, red-faced, opened it, her eyes blazing. “Oh, ’tis ye. Come in.” She stepped aside so he could enter. Standing by the table, covered with her sewing notions and fabric, was a rather angry-looking chap.

  Still looking annoyed, Molly faced the gent. “Séamus, this is Grant Cummings, Katherine’s nephew … and our tenant. Ye met his brother Keith before he left with Scott. Mr. Cummings, this is Séamus Macaulay, the town undertaker. He also works in the mill.”

  Grant stood silent a moment. What had he walked in on? “Good to make yer acquaintance.” From the look on the chap’s face, the sentiment was not returned. “I should find Keith.”

  “He is out back with Scott. They caught some fish and are gutting and scaling them. Supper should be ready in about twenty minutes.” A caged bull couldn’t have sent more angry signals than the lass.

  “Ta. Sounds grand.” Grant walked outside. Glad to be free from whatever set them off. Scott and Keith were laughing as they gathered the remains of their work into a pail.

  “Looks like ye had a productive day, ’n I can almost taste those fish.” Katherine was right, the lads were getting along fine. “I’m off to care for the horse.”

  Scott hefted the pail. “Go ahead, Keith. I can bury the remains and take the fish to Molly.”

  “Ta. See ye for supper.” Keith came alongside Grant.

  He rubbed the top of Keith’s head. “How was yer day? Aunt Katherine said ye did well.”

  Keith grinned from ear to ear. “’Twas a good day, studied some, then went to the river ’n caught six trout.”

  “Remarkable.” Just as they came around the side of the cottage and were headed to the hut, the door slammed. The gent, still in a huff, and with a frightful scowl yelled at them. “Ye will find another place to live if ye have any sense.”

  Grant pulled Keith close.

  The chap got on a fine mare and left in a hurry.

  Keith’s eyes widened. “Is he scared of Miss Molly or mad at us?”

  “Couldn’t answer that, lad.”

  Molly cleared the table to set it for supper, her head pounding. Dinna let that filthy-minded miser vex ye.

  Scott entered with the pail of fish, his forehead creased. “Why was ye fighting with Séamus? Sure sounded loud.”

  “’Tis Mr. Macaulay to ye, laddie. A disagreement but no need to give it another thought. Wash and I will get these in the skillet.” She sliced potatoes and added them to some water in another pan.

  Fifteen minutes later, when there was a knock at the door, she yelled, “Come in.”

  The Cummings brothers entered. Their hands were clean, and their hair was damp and slicked back like they had just bathed. Must be trying to make a good impression. Grant glanced at her untidy work area. Heat crept into her cheeks. How embarrassing, but where else was she to set her work?

  Grant smiled at her as he took off his jacket. “Somethin smells mighty good. May I do somethin t
o help?”

  “Aye.” She handed him the platter of fish. The man’s penetrating blue eyes were a distraction. She placed the drained potatoes in a bowl and handed Scott the plates. “Please put these and forks around. We can all sit now.” She stared across the small table directly at Grant. “I will ask the blessing. ‘Bless, O Father, Thy gifts to our use and us to Thy service; for Christ’s sake. Amen.’” She cringed. She was speaking to the Lord, and her mind had wandered back to Séamus. Forgive me, God. It was worry enough how she would take care of them with so little funds, and now with Seamus making trouble.

  “Please take the plate of tatties.” Scott frowned, holding it out to her.

  “Sorry.” She took it and served herself before passing it to Keith. Their situation was dire. How would they keep the cottage and continue to put food on all their plates?

  Grant took the plate. “Ye did well, lads, the fish is grand.” Looking at her, “I will have the rest o this month’s rent for ye at the end o the week.”

  His gentle gaze relaxed the tension in her neck. Fighting back tears, she swallowed hard. “Ta.” That and what she had set aside would pay off Séamus. Good riddance. Mrs. McGuire and Grace would be paying her too. If only the weather would warm so their garden would produce. The man continued to stare at her. She cleared her throat. “So ye found work today? At the Agivey Bridge like ye thought?”

  “Aye, ’n if it works out well, ’n I hae no reason to think otherwise, there will be more.”

  His engaging smile was impossible to ignore. But he had no worries about being turned out—well—other than already having been turned out in the Highlands. “Good for ye.”

  Scott pointed to the platter of fish. “May I have more?”

  “Aye, have mine.” She pushed her uneaten meal toward him. It looked and smelled tasty, but her appetite was gone.

  Grant placed more potatoes on his plate. “I don’t mean to intrude, but was there trouble with Mr. Macaulay? Ye seemed to be in a quarrel when I got here.”

  Scott, with a mouth full of trout, spoke up. “Nay, he is just a nuisance.”

  Her brother spoke his mind too freely. Still, laughter bubbled up, easing her soul.

  Scott wiped his mouth. “He has been pestering Molly to marry him.”

  She scowled at him. “Ye talks too much. Now help me clear this away. I need to get back to sewing while I still have light.” She got up and removed the dishes. When she wiped off the table, Grant was studying the bay window and her sewing mess again. Had he never seen the like before?

  He went to the wash basin. “Thank ye for the meal. I can wash them so ye can get back to yer sewin.”

  Her jaw dropped. Neither Pa nor Scott had ever offered to do that. She closed her mouth and stared at him. “’Tis not necessary, but thank ye for offering.”

  CHAPTER 9

  DAYS LATER, UNDER AN overcast sky, Grant stopped at Katherine’s cottage on his return from Agivey. He pulled his coat close. Was June in Ulster always so chilly?

  Katherine opened the door to him with a wide smile. “Come in. I have bin thinkin about ye and wonderin how ye was farin. One does not get much information from an eight-year-old.”

  He ducked his head as he entered the cottage. “I’m grateful to ye for suggestin I go to Agivey. The work is good ’n there is the promise of more in Ballymoney later. How has Keith been? The lad seems to be adjustin, but I wanted yer insight.”

  “He is doing well, and I think Scott and he have helped each other both with their studies ’n as friends, both losin a parent so recently. Can I pour ye some tea?”

  “Nay, I want to get home, but wondered, have ye any wood to make a table ’n shelves or know where I could find some?”

  Katherine smiled. “’Tis glad I am that yer settlin in. I do have some wood.” She ushered him into the bedroom and pointed to the bed. “Henry saved some pieces from a broken table. They are under the bed.”

  He pulled out some oak pieces, then followed her around to the back to a covered three-sided lean-to. “Got some other odds and ends Henry found. If ye wants it yer welcome to it. Ye can use my cart to haul them away.”

  He studied what was available. “With some tools and nails, it should work. I can find them in Agivey. If Miss Molly allows it, I will be back for it ’n the cart.”

  “Cannot imagine why she wouldna let ye add to the hut.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Thank ye.”

  Grant fed the horse and put it out to pasture, then went to the hut. Keith was likely with Scott. The pitcher on the small table had been filled. ’Twas thoughtful of Keith or the lass, probably the lass. She seemed friendlier these past few days. He needed a bath. Tomorrow was Sunday and church.

  Keith opened the cottage door and grinned. “Wondered where ye were.”

  “I stopped at Katherine’s ’n washed when I got here.” He entered the room. Molly was in the chair by the window in the bay sewing on some brown fabric. “Thank ye, for fillin the water jug.”

  “I was filling the trough so ’twas no trouble.”

  He nodded. “Was wondering where Keith ’n I could get a bath?”

  Scott stopped setting the table and grinned. “Saturday evenings, spring and summer, I go down to the river for a swim.”

  Keith perked up. “Aye, we could go for a swim.”

  The lass stood and put her sewing aside. Was that a blush on her face? “We have a tin bathing tub by the root cellar. Ye can fill it from the well.”

  “Ta. If I remember correctly, services are at nine o’clock in the mornin.”

  Molly had a quizzical expression. “Aye, nine o’clock.” She carried the dishes to the table.

  When they had seated themselves, she blessed the food and ladled the cock-a-leekie into bowls. The lads finalized their plans to make a quick trip to the river. Grant only half listened to their conversation. The lass seemed to be deep in thought while glancing back and forth between Scott and Keith and avoiding his gaze. What was she thinking? And how would she receive his idea? He would tell her while the lads were off to the river.

  Molly smiled. “I made a berry cobbler.” She put a large scoop on each plate, then poured some tea.

  His chest grew tight when her sea-blue eyes met his. She was a beauty, particularly when the suspicious look slipped away. Industrious and a good cook, too. No wonder the undertaker fellow resented male boarders, though she didn’t seem so fond of him. Were there other chaps in town who had designs on her? When they finished the cobbler, he stood. “Ta. Enjoyed the entire meal.”

  She smiled again as she cleared the table.

  Perhaps she was warming up to Highlanders.

  Scott and Keith headed out the door. “Take some clean clothes with ye, Keith.”

  “Ye too, Scott.” She added and poured Grant more tea.

  “I’m needin a word with ye ... been thinkin about somethin to help ye.”

  She stepped away, but curiosity was written on her face.

  He pointed to the bay window “What if ye had a table ’n chair here by the window? Ye would have plenty of light, ’n shelves to store yer things. Ye wouldna need to be movin yer work all the time.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “Katherine has given me the wood ’n I could make it for ye.”

  Molly’s fingers touched her lips for a moment. “I dinna understand. Why would ye do this?”

  “I’m a builder. ’Tis what I do … and ye seem to have a need.”

  “I … I … ’tis verra kind of ye.”

  “Ye helped us. I’m wantin to help ye. Now, I will be gettin that tub … ’n a bath.”

  She blushed. “There is a bucket at the well, and I will bring some soap and hot water to add to it.”

  “Ta.” He walked outside. The lass had promise—if she could get over her aversion to Highlanders.

  Molly peered out the window. Grant carried the oblong tub from around the other side of the cellar. She had already fille
d another kettle and hung it over the fire. Two would better take the chill off the well water. When she went to get the lye soap, she spotted him carrying the tub toward the hut. She winced. He had to remove the crate to fit it in the hut. But he wanted privacy, and so did she.

  Grant Cummings was an enigma. First, he helped in the kitchen so she could get back to her sewing. Then he wanted to bathe and go to church. And now the offer to build her a table. Either he was no normal Highlander—or she had misjudged Highlanders in general. He returned to the well with a bucket. She’d best take the water and soap out to him before he began disrobing.

  His eyes met hers when she turned the corner of the cottage, a kettle in each hand.

  “Here, let me take them.”

  This time she did not look away from the cleft in his chin and his blue eyes. She almost forgot the soap. Reaching into her apron pocket, she handed it to him. “I will leave ye now.” For such a cool day it seemed increasingly warm.

  “Ta. The lads should be back before long. I will wash our clothes after I bathe.”

  “Right.” She walked back to the cottage. Inside she studied the bay window and paced back and forth. ’Twas a generous offer to make her a table. Surely his motives were honorable. She sank into her chair and picked up the piece she was hemming. A table just for her sewing right here under the window. And shelves to store things on. “Hmm.” She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Perhaps Pa had been wrong about Highlanders. Grant was not such a rough chap after all. If only she could be sure. “A penny for yer thoughts, Grant Cummings.”

  CHAPTER 10

  GRANT STEERED KEITH TO the graveyard when they arrived at the church. “Perhaps we should look here a for a while since we have time before the service.”

  “Why did we get here so early? We could have waited and come with the MacGregors.”

  “Look at the stones with me.” An eight-year-old would not understand why it was best if they did not arrive with Molly and Scott. Villagers were notorious for gossiping.