Spirit of the Revolution

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Spirit of the Revolution Page 23

by Debbie Peterson


  “Believe what?”

  “I hope you have your passport up to date because we’re going to Glasgow, Scotland.” Her voice quivered with excitement.

  “Glasgow? What are you talking about?”

  “Did you hear the phone ring just now? My Scottish counterparts have had this grand music festival in the works for well over a year now. I won’t bore you with all the details, but they’re going to put on several sold-out concerts over the course of a ten-day period.

  “Unfortunately, the featured violinist they booked canceled at the very last minute for medical reasons. They said he needs to have some surgery and it’s serious enough they can’t wait until after the concerts are over. So, they asked me to take his place. Of course, I immediately said yes. Although it is possible I could’ve screamed my acceptance,” she added as she tossed him an impish smile. “Did you, by chance, hear me do such a thing?”

  Even though Mathias chuckled as he approached her, it took a few minutes to understand everything she said. “So, when is this music festival taking place?”

  “We’re going to leave in about three weeks and we’ll remain in Scotland for a little over two, maybe a bit longer if I have anything to say about it. I’ve never had the opportunity to stay there for more than a day or two at any given time, and I would really like the chance to see the country.

  “But, can you believe it? Do you understand this means we’re going to have the opportunity to look for Thomas’s land records ourselves? We’ll have plenty of free time while we’re there and I’m sure we can discover every detail concerning his property, from the moment he took possession of it, until the day of his death. Finally, one way or the other, we’ll have that piece of our puzzle.”

  “Then I guess I’d better go and check that passport,” he replied, at once matching her enthusiasm. If nothing else, this trip would take her far enough away from Paul that he couldn’t touch her. At least for the duration of the journey. “Exactly what is a passport, anyway?”

  Chapter 23

  “Oh, stewardess?” the woman at the end of Jo’s row called out. “I really need to change to another seat. I’m still freezing half to death, and this blanket doesn’t seem to help at all. Look, I can literally see my breath.”

  The flight attendant rubbed both arms with her hands during the woman’s exaggerated performance. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I can feel it too.” She looked up at the vent. “I can’t imagine what the problem is. But, the plane does have several empty seats. Take any one of them you wish.”

  She turned her gaze to the man in the middle. “Would you like another seat as well, sir?” she asked

  “Yes, please, if you don’t mind,” he answered.

  As the passengers got up and walked toward the front of the plane, Jo tracked their progress.

  “What about you, ma’am,” she asked. “Would you like to find another seat?”

  “No, thank you,” Jo answered. “I’m fine right here.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you another blanket then?” she asked.

  “That isn’t necessary,” Jo replied, not really needing the first one. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Well, if you should find it otherwise, just let me know,” she said.

  “Thank you. I will.” A slight smile appeared on Jo’s lips as the woman retreated down the aisle. Mathias and Sam wasted no time in taking the recently vacated seats.

  “That took longer than I expected,” Mathias said. “Good thing the other lads elected to stay home. We might’ve aroused the lady’s suspicions if we had to clear out another whole row.”

  Jo’s fingers played against her lips to mask her amusement as well as her comments. “Still, I wished they would have come with us. I think they would’ve had fun,” she whispered.

  “Ah, you know them.” Sam waved a hand in dismissal. “They assign a great deal of importance to searching every particle of Joshua’s property. Besides, if every one of us evacuated the premises, who would look over Dakota and Lacy properly? Not to mention, with Sanders on the prowl, we don’t need to leave the homestead unattended.”

  “You’re probably right.” Jo took a breath and turned to look out the window. An endless ocean lay before her and the sight worried her. What if it turned out the boys couldn’t travel as far away as Scotland? What would happen if they discovered a barrier they couldn’t cross? Could they find their way back home? Would some other sphere hold them captive?

  “I don’t know about this, Mathias,” she murmured behind her hand.

  “You don’t know about what?” he asked.

  “About this trip. What if you guys can’t get all the way to Scotland?”

  “You needn’t worry, we’ll be fine, Jolena,” Mathias replied. “If I didn’t think we could make it there and back, I wouldn’t have come. Besides, as you know, I’ve looked forward to this trip, and not just because of our search.”

  Jo’s mind traveled to all of their carefully planned activities. She spent the weeks before departure, scheduling something for every spare moment she had. They would research Thomas McGregor’s land records first, but she also wanted to see as many museums, castles, and historic sites as they could possibly fit into her schedule. Some of them even included the ancestral lands of the McGregor and Fraser clans. Mathias and Sam both seemed excited over the prospect.

  Nonetheless, something about the way Mathias looked at her during his last comment made her blush. Well, that and the fact he curled his hand on top of hers. “Just the same,” she said. “Let me know if you suddenly feel something is wrong and maybe we can figure out—”

  “Hush, Jolena,” said Samuel, cutting off the last of her words. “Nothing is going to happen, I promise. Stop fretting. Just settle down and enjoy the trip. We intend to.”

  Jo let go of an anxious breath, dropped her hand, and laid it on her lap.

  Sam looked past her then, to gaze out the window. “Just look at that ocean isn’t she something? You know, I always wanted to sail at least once during my lifetime. I never got the chance, but I suppose flying over it is just as good.”

  She settled a little more comfortably into her seat and took in the view Sam mentioned. Her boys reassured her well enough and they did look as if they enjoyed the experience of this flight. A slight smile emerged as she recalled their marvel over the hustle and bustle of the busy, crowded airport. Of course, they just had to explore the complexity of the cockpit and the expressions they wore as the jet taxied down the runway and took off, she’d forever hold in memory. The long hours of the flight passed pleasantly enough, even though they kept all conversations to a minimum.

  Within hours of their landing, they found themselves inside a quaint little two-bedroom cottage. The man in charge of the concerts gave Jo the use of it for the duration of her stay. A cozy fire roared in the large stone fireplace and the kitchen larder contained enough food to feed an entire army. The scent of a mouth-watering stew simmered on the stove, all courtesy of a lovely woman by the name of Agnes Galbraith.

  Her husband, Timothy, picked them up at the airport and escorted them here to his “wee guest cottage” in the glen. He was certain she’d find it more comfortable than some musty old hotel in Glasgow, he had said.

  As she opened her mouth to thank them, they halted her progress with raised hands and a firm shake of their heads. They insisted she did them the tremendous favor by agreeing to come all the way from America to perform in their concerts and on such short notice. Her humble lodgings couldn’t even begin to repay the favor, they said.

  “If you find oot yer a needin’ anythin’, dinnae hesitate tae call,” Timothy said in his charming Scottish brogue.

  “Thank you so much for everything and I will,” Jo said in return. “You’ll especially hear from me if I get lost.”

  Agnes laughed and nodded. “’Tis an easy thing to do, to be sure. Th’ car haes one o’ those computerized talkin’ maps, so that shuid help you oot some. If you kin figure
oot hoo tae use th’ thing, tha’ is. They stull mystify me, A’m afeart.”

  “Well, hopefully I can figure it out. More than likely my biggest problem will come in remembering to drive on the left hand side of the road.”

  “Jist gie yerself an extra thirty minutes to git tae th’ concert hall,” Timothy said while giving her a friendly wink. “You micht find oot you need it. So—if yer settled in then, Ah guess we’ll see you day after tomoorow.”

  After they left her to herself, Jo set her laptop computer on the kitchen table. She promised the boys remaining at home she would send them an e-mail the minute they arrived. They learned how to use the e-mail program just as quickly as they did everything else. Mathias insisted on it, because should Paul rear his head, he wanted to know immediately.

  “Hang on just a minute,” she said as she began typing her message. “I’m sending the boys a quick note to let them know we arrived. We don’t want them to have to worry for lack of hearing from us.”

  “Make sure you tell them for me, they really missed out on our grandest adventure to date,” Sam said. “And, as a personal favor, lay it on really thick.”

  “Don’t forget to add it only promises to get better, now that we’re here,” Mathias added.

  Jo tsked and shook her head. “You guys are so mean. Here the other boys have made this huge sacrifice. They stayed home to watch over things just so you could come and have—”

  “Sacrifice, nothing.” Mathias chuckled. “Despite the remoteness of the possibility, they feared getting stuck out over the ocean somewhere and not have the ability to find their way home.”

  Jo’s heart dropped as he made the confession. “But you said if you didn’t think you could make it all the way here, you wouldn’t have come.”

  Mathias shrugged and shot a conspiratorial glance at Sam. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what they say? And as it turned out, the risk didn’t exist.”

  “Now there’s no need to give us that look of recrimination, lass,” Sam said. “We’re here safe and sound, and we’ll get home the same way.”

  “Let’s hope,” Jo retorted as she picked up her luggage, and made her way into the first bedroom. After she hung up her dresses and put away her clothing, she turned on the shower faucets, in anticipation of a nice hot shower.

  Sometime later, after sampling the stew and tidying up the kitchen, Jo curled up in the large overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. She discovered a book in her bedroom bookcase detailing the history of the Scottish clans and turned to the pages dealing with Clan McGregor. She laughed when the first reference to the clan defined them as troublemakers, born with a “natural unruliness.” As she kept reading the history, if the author used reliable sources, she could see where he might consider the statement factual. The remark made her wonder, though—

  “Mathias,” she began in feigned seriousness. “Would you say the men who comprised Morgan’s Rangers descended mostly from the Scots?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Mathias replied. “Colonel Morgan commanded hundreds of men and most of those men were naught but acquaintances. However, I’m certain some of them must’ve had some Scottish blood flowing through their veins. Why do you ask?”

  Jo shrugged, and lifted a hand to cover her traitorous mouth. “Oh, it’s just this reference here to the ‘natural born unruliness’ of your trouble-making ancestral clansman. The description kind of fits with what the books said about the Rangers, that’s all.”

  Mathias, along with Sam, laughed outright over her comment and she hurried through the following pages looking for additional evidence to boost the claim.

  “What else does it say about the McGregor clan?” Mathias sat in the chair next to hers and leaned toward her. “You’ve managed to pique my interest.”

  “Well, let’s see here.” The abhorrent words put a knot in her stomach. “Did you know that in the year 1603, King James signed an edict which allowed anyone who desired it, the authority to kill anyone with the name McGregor? They didn’t need just cause, either. Simply having the name was enough. The king sought the annihilation of your entire clan.”

  Jo looked up from the book and met Mathias’s gaze. “The chapter goes on to say they hunted down and slaughtered hundreds of McGregors. They forced those who survived to change their name or flee to the safety of Ireland, along with other political outcasts of Scotland. And the women had either to change their name or wear a brand in their foreheads.”

  Mathias nodded as he toyed with his clasped fingers. “Yes, my family was aware of that part of our family’s history, though we rarely talked about. My great grand uncle, the Reverend James McGregor, supplied the means to transport hundreds of Scotsmen from the shores of Ireland to the Colonies in the year 1718. My grandfather, Angus McGregor, sailed with him, thus these men became the first in my family to step foot on American soil.”

  “Did you know your grandfather?” she asked, thinking about all the tales he could’ve spun that would have fascinated a young boy.

  “He died before I was born,” Mathias replied, offering no more than that.

  “Well, I’m glad they decided to come,” Jo said as she lifted her eyes from the page to meet his gaze.

  “I am too,” Mathias whispered.

  The look he gave her quite easily stole her breath and at once, she returned to the book, hoping he didn’t notice. “Well, thankfully, they officially repealed the law in the year 1774. But they shouldn’t have sanctioned it in the first place.”

  “No, they shouldn’t have. But you must remember when speaking about the character of the Scots, the McGregors hardly took the prize for unruly, natural-born troublemaking,” said Sam. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I, myself, wouldn’t know anything about the subject at all.”

  Leave it to Sam to make her laugh. As she continued through the pages, she found and then related the stories of their more notable clansmen, their acts of bravery, strength, leadership, and the places they held in Scottish history. Mathias and Sam inherited these very same qualities from their forebears.

  Of course, imagining them dressed in a fringed leather “mountain man” kilt while they attended their duties, proved somewhat amusing to her psyche. That night her mind concocted all sorts of strange dreams, featuring the boys dressed in such manner. Because of those dreams, she welcomed the alarm clock with open arms though her body protested the hour. She got out of bed and donned the long-sleeved white T-shirt and jeans she laid out the night before. After she dressed, she headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast.

  “Good morning, Mathias, Sam. Did you both sleep well?” she teased when she found them in the kitchen, looking at her laptop screen.

  “Who could sleep with all of that snoring going on in the bedroom?” countered Sam. “With that racket going on, I popped outside looking for a bear, thinking surely one roamed the premises. Couldn’t find a thing, though. That led me to believe we didn’t have a bear at all.”

  Jo just laughed while she poured herself a bowl of cereal. And then as she sat at the table to eat, she said, “I think as soon as I’m finished with my breakfast, we’ll head to the Scottish archives in Edinburgh. After all, I really have no idea how long it’s going to take us to find what we’re looking for, so we should get an early start.” She nodded at the computer then as she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Did we get anything from the boys?”

  “Nope, not yet,” Sam said. “They’re probably too busy kicking themselves for staying home.”

  “Or” Mathias added, “perhaps they’re still out to Joshua’s, looking for another clue.”

  “Well, hopefully, we can help them by finding something here,” she said.

  Four hours later, Jo glanced down at her watch. She yawned and stretched a bit before turning her attention to the record book in front of her. How many such books had they looked through so far with nothing to show for it? She sat there staring at the large file of notes she compiled into her
laptop in the hope that something, anything, might jump out at her. Jo propped her arm on the table and rested her chin atop her closed hand. She must’ve looked lost because at that very moment, one of the curators approached her.

  “Is thare somethin’ Ah kin hulp you with?” he asked.

  He listened attentively to her explanation. “Weel, Ah wuid think if yer Thomas McGregor sauld any o’ his property in Scootlund, he wuid huv done so in person. Would you happen to knoo if he made any trips here, an’ if so, th’ approximate dates he made thaim? Perhaps yer lookin’ at the wrong time.”

  Why didn’t she think of that? “Actually, he did make a few trips here. I don’t have the dates with me, but let me make a phone call, and I’ll see if I can get them.” For whatever reason, it never occurred to her to take notes from Thomas’s journal.

  Despite several tries, she couldn’t get a connection from her cell phone at her present location. She glanced down at her laptop, hoping against hope one of the boys could hear her computer at home. A musical bell sounded when an e-mail arrived. She typed the request.

  I need someone to look through Thomas’s journal and find the dates he visited Scotland. And I need them as fast as you can get them to me. Jo.

  For the next several minutes the man, who introduced himself as Ronald Murray, made friendly conversation with her while she waited for a reply. She introduced herself in turn, and from the highly publicized concerts, he recognized her name. Knowing the master violinist from America sat at his table, he doubled his efforts in trying to help her find Thomas McGregor’s land records. He even began going through some of the records himself. A short while later, she received an answer from William.

  First recorded trip March 17 1773 second trip August 23 1775 hope I got it fast enough for you. William.

  After showing Mr. Murray the dates, he retrieved the volumes she needed. She read each of the entries. Much to her disappointment, she didn’t find the name McGregor in the March/April 1773 volumes. She turned to the second volume and found a single reference to the surname, only it didn’t name Thomas.

 

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