‘She does.’ He sighed contentedly. ‘I never thought I would see you again, lassie, or visit such a lovely part of the country.’
‘Just you wait until you see The Glens of Lochandee,’ Rachel told him. ‘You will understand why Ross felt so at home here, and why Mistress Beattie loves it so much.’
‘And you, lassie? Do you feel you belong now?’ Sam asked wistfully. He had forgotten Alice’s presence in the back of the car and she waited tensely for Rachel’s reply. It was clear to her, even on such short acquaintance that Sam Dewar had a warm affection for Rachel and that it was reciprocated.
‘For me, my home is wherever Ross and my children are,’ Rachel said simply, ‘But I hope and pray we shall never have to leave Lochandee.’ Alice expelled a breath she had not been aware she was holding. She relaxed as Rachel described the little village on the side of the Loch, some of its inhabitants, the woodland track where she and Ross sometimes took the children for a picnic, and where they thought they had lost Conan.
At the mention of his own name Conan came to life and chattered eagerly in his high chirruping voice, telling Sam of all the animals he would see and his own secret den where he could hide.
‘Margaret and baby Bridie are too wee to find me,’ he said triumphantly. ‘Bestest of all I like riding with Mama on her bicycle. I’m going to have a bicycle when I’m big. I’m going to make bicycles when I’m ever so old, like Mr Pearson.’
Sam smiled and asked Conan questions. By the time they arrived at The Glens of Lochandee the two were already firm friends.
Sam had been at Lochandee several days when he saw a man walking wearily up the track towards the farm. It was early evening and the milking had just finished.
‘I see you are having a visitor?’ He nodded towards a distant figure plodding up the farm road.
Frank Kidd and his wife had just left the byre and were heading home for their evening meal. They recognised the weary figure coming towards them and as one, they hurried back.
‘That’s Bill Carr, Mistress Beattie,’ Dolly said urgently. ‘D’ye remember I told you his lassie had been … Well the Factor got her, and – well she wouldna stand a chance against Elder. Now she has his bairn and nearly died a getting o’ it, they say …’
‘I remember, Dolly,’ Alice Beattie nodded. ‘But …’
‘That’s her father, that’s Bill Carr coming up the road.’ Dolly was more concerned than they had ever seen her. ‘He – he was sae angry and upset he attacked the Factor …’
‘And who could blame him! I’d hae done the same if it had been my lassie,’ Sandy nodded vehemently.
‘Aye, but now the Factor has told the Trains he would evict them frae the farm if they didna get rid o’ the Carrs. They have three boys o’ their ain and they’ve been in Marchiemount for four generations. Bill Carr’s a guid man, Mistress, and he’s been trying up and doon the glens for work but the other tenants are feared to take him on. He must be fair desperate.’
‘You think he’s coming here to seek work, Dolly?’
‘Aye, Mistress Beattie. I reckon so. It’s a long walk frae Marchiemount.’
‘We were not planning to hire another man, at least not until prices improve, but we always have more work to do than hands to do it, don’t we Ross?’
Ross remained silent, frowning.
‘We will discuss the situation before Mr Carr reaches us. You go home now Dolly and attend to your family. Beth, will you give the man some bannock and cheese, and a drink of buttermilk, please. Ask him to wait and we will discuss the situation while we eat our own meal.’
‘Suppose we did give the man work,’ Ross said as soon as they were alone, ‘the Factor would seize the first opportunity to terminate our tenancy. Where should we be then? I heard at the market that some o’ the tenants got together but Elder was too clever for them, and they couldn’t get in touch with the Laird himself.’
‘If that happens we shall get a good lawyer to fight for our rights,’ Alice said with determination. ‘The old Laird must be turning in his grave at the way the estate is going to ruin. I think there is little hope of this Factor allowing us to take back the original boundaries of The Glens of Lochandee, as Mr Shaw intended.’
‘None at all, I’d say,’ Ross said glumly. ‘He’s more likely to sell the whole farm.
‘Then we have nothing to lose. The man is in dire need. You do see that? Ross?’ Alice had an inner conviction that this situation was some sort of test of her own Christian integrity. She had never told anyone of her disgust with a Factor who had used his position to attack both Beth and Rachel in her own yard. She had received no reply to her letter to the Laird, expressing her contempt. She wondered whether the Laird had received her letter and if he had warned the Factor to keep away from Lochandee. Sometimes she was consumed with anxiety in case the letter had fallen into the hands of the Factor himself. Now she felt she was being challenged to prove her own sincerity by extending a helping hand to his victims.
‘Supposing we do find the man work, where would he live?’ Ross asked. ‘We have no more cottages. He and his daughter and her baby can’t live in the bothy with Alfie.’
‘That’s true,’ Alice conceded slowly. ‘I had not considered that. The shepherd’s cottage went with the ground McNish took over. The old calf-house at the back of the steading used to be a cottage. It is filthy but the roof is sound and it does have a chimney and a fireplace. It was used as a cottage when I was a girl.’
‘If the men moved the hay and straw out Beth and I could scrub it out.’ Rachel said. She knew Ross was not in favour of employing another man yet but there was plenty of work to be done, more than enough for one man.’
‘I am overruled then,’ Ross sighed, ‘but don’t say I didna warn you if the Factor seeks revenge.’
Rachel dimpled up at him and Ross could not resist that special smile. Tonight, he knew, she would amply repay him, but he could not rid himself of his uneasiness. He had heard the other tenants discussing the Factor’s malice and the Laird gave him a free rein.
Bill Carr was almost overcome with relief and gratitude, even when he understood the poor shelter he would have for a home.
‘When are you due to move out of your cottage?’ Ross asked.
‘We were supposed to be out yesterday.’ He hung his head. ‘Anywhere will be better than sleeping on the road.’
‘So soon!’ Ross whistled. ‘That does not give us much time then. I will send Sandy over with a horse and cart tomorrow morning, straight after milking. Can you be ready?’
‘Aye, we’re all ready now. We moved the furniture out and covered it with rugs and sacks, in case it rains. The Factor threatened to set fire to the cottage, with us in it, if we didna get out.’
‘He couldn’t do that!’ Alice gasped.
‘Mr Train was afraid he might. He reckons the Laird is in France most o’ the time so it would be easy enough to say we had caused it, or it was an accident.’
‘Well if you are packed and ready you could take the horse and cart home with you tonight,’ Ross decided. ‘It will save you walking, and the mare would only need one journey tomorrow.’
‘Eh, man, I dinna ken how tae thank ye,’ The man’s eyes glistened and he turned to look at Alice and Rachel. ‘May the good Lord bless ye all …’ He turned away, ashamed to show his emotions.
Long before he reached the bend in the track on the last stretch Bill Carr could see the spiral of smoke curling into the still air of evening.
‘Emmie!’ he breathed. ‘Oh God, please let her be safe.’
At Glens of Lochandee the milking was barely finished when the horse and cart came up the track. Ross couldn’t believe his eyes. There had been no time even to empty the old cottage. Bill Carr must have been up most of the night. As he drew nearer Ross’s heart sank even more. The man looked barely fit to stand on his own two feet, much less do a day’s manual work.
‘We did not expect you so early …’ He gazed past the two figur
es to the empty cart. ‘You have not brought your furniture, your belongings?’
Dejectedly Bill Carr told him of the three drunken lackeys the Factor had sent to burn everything they possessed.
‘Thank God, Mistress Train gave Emmie and the bairn protection.’
Ross’s glance moved to the childish figure clutching a whimpering baby. She didn’t look woman enough to bear a child, even less to suckle one.
Rachel and Beth had joined Ross in time to hear about the fire.
‘He’s a swine, that man.’ Beth gasped indignantly. Looking at the trembling girl she understood what her own fate would have been had Mistress Maxwell not saved her. ‘Somebody should – should knock him on the head like my Da does with the runt o’ the litter.’ Silently Rachel echoed her sentiments.
‘You had better come into the house. I’m sure Mistress Beattie will stretch the porridge for another two until we decide what to do.’
Alice took charge. Rachel envied her calm and supposed it must be the way she had been reared. In fact Alice thrived on challenge and organising.
‘Tonight Bill can sleep in the bothy with Alfie,’ she said. ‘Emmie will share Beth’s room and we can make a crib for the baby in one of the large drawers from the bottom of a wardrobe. All right?’ They all nodded agreement.
‘In that case we had better get on with breakfast or Ross will miss the milk train and your customers will be growing impatient for their milk, Beth. As soon as we have all eaten I will supervise Sandy and Alfie clearing out the hay and sweeping the old cottage. Meanwhile Rachel and I will see what we can find in the way of spare cooking pots and other utensils.’ She frowned thoughtfully.
‘Grandpa has some pans and mugs and a kettle he doesna use,’ Beth volunteered. ‘I could ask him if we could get them for Emmie.’
‘Very well,’ Alice agreed. ‘You may call in at the village on your way to the train.’
‘We will,’ Ross nodded, ‘but it is time we set out or we shall be left with the milk still standing on the platform instead of halfway to Glasgow.’
Bill Carr and his daughter were overcome with gratitude at the kindness of the people around them. Beth’s tender heart had been touched by their plight and she told her grandfather their story with a few embellishments of her own.
At the end of the week the old cottage had been cleaned and scrubbed and painted with white lime from top to bottom. Even Alice was astonished at the generosity of the people of Lochandee village although she had lived amongst them all her life. She did not realise it was her own act of human kindness which had set the example. Coupled with Beth’s eloquent pleading at the Manse, and her grandfather’s coaxing amongst his friends and neighbours, the old cottage looked like a home again. Its blazing fire was sending shadows up the newly whitened walls and a gleaming brass oil lamp from the doctor’s wife stood on the well-scrubbed dresser which Alice had unearthed. There was a thick rag rug in front of the hearth and the undertaker had sent his boy to repair the old box bed in the kitchen. Someone else had sent a brass and iron bedstead for Emmie and a cot big enough for three babies had come from one of the big houses on the far side of the loch, along with blankets and a small eiderdown. Several times Emmie was almost in tears as she accepted the gifts which the minister kept bringing with his own pony and cart.
‘I know the Reverend MacCreadie slightly. He was extremely concerned when he heard of the Carr’s plight and the dilemma of the Train family,’ he confided to Alice over one of his inevitable cups of tea and shortbread. ‘He tells me Bill Carr and his family are good people. They attended his church regularly. It is a lesson to all of us that you have shown such courage, and a fine example of Christian charity.’
‘I only hope we do not pay too dearly for it. The Factor is an evil man.
‘Mr Elder will reap the punishment of his own evil doings one day.
“Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small.”’ he quoted gravely.
Alice grimaced wryly at the lines from Longfellow’s Retribution.
‘“Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.” I certainly hope it will prove true in Mr Elder’s case,’ she said without charity. ‘When I witness the plight of Bill Carr and his daughter, I find it hard to see God’s justice.’
‘He works in mysterious ways,’ The minister nodded, ‘Sometimes His ways are beyond our understanding.’
Six weeks later the minister and his parishioners sought a return favour from Ross. It was the occasion of the kirn to celebrate the finish of the harvest. Everyone in the parish was welcome to share the harvest supper in the new village hall. This was always provided by the women of the parish. Many of them jealously guarded their recipes and their reputation for their jams or pies, or some other delicacy and woe betide the minister or his wife if one of them was omitted from the list of helpers.
Much the same applied to the men of the parish who organised the entertainment which followed. There were those who were famous – and sometimes infamous – for their songs and recitations. Equally the musicians jealously guarded their reputations for providing the liveliest jigs and reels. Merrymakers travelled from several parishes, coming on bicycles from as far afield as Lockerbie, to enjoy the Lochandee dancing.
Unfortunately their best fiddler, a man by the name of Henry MacPhail, had fallen off a corn stack while thatching. He had broken his arm. It was the morning of the kirn and by noon a group of gloomy men gathered around the smiddy and pondered the situation.
Seeing them, and guessing their business, Mr Pearson left his bicycle shop and went to join the discussion. It was short notice and fiddlers as good as MacPhail were hard to find.
‘Beth told me Mr Maxwell frae The Glens is a fair hand wi’ the fiddle,’ he offered tentatively, knowing the reputation of Lochandee parish was at stake. Better to have no fiddler at all than a bad one.
After serious deliberation, the Reverend Simms was delegated to Glens of Lochandee to ask Ross to play his fiddle in the village for the first time. Ross had not played in public since he came to Lochandee so he was reluctant to agree. He often played in the kitchen at Glens of Lochandee on winter evenings though and when the Reverend Simms made it clear it was a crisis and the reputation of the men of Lochandee was at stake he agreed to do his best.
‘I’m sure they will be obliged to you,’ the minister murmured, though he was a trifle uncertain about that, knowing how much the Lochandee men prided themselves on their music.
Beth was excited. She wished Emmie could accompany her to the Kirn. The two were becoming good friends and Beth wanted to introduce Emmie to the village people.
‘I will look after the bairn,’ Bill Carr offered, thinking it would do his wee lass good to have a bit of pleasure for a change. Still Emmie demurred on account of her scanty wardrobe.
‘I’ve a skirt you could borrow,’ Beth offered.
‘And I have a blouse you can have,’ Rachel told them. The blouse was too tight across her chest since she had been feeding Bridget, yet it would probably be too large for Emmie’s skinny frame.
Rachel had left her own three children in Alice’s care, making sure they were all tucked up in bed before she left, but Conan could wind Alice around his little finger and she had no doubt he would coax at least three extra bed time stories from her.
‘Don’t worry, Rachel,’ Alice smiled as she admonished Conan once more. ‘To tell the truth I have felt a great deal better since Bill Carr came to work. I am not so tired.’
‘Yes, he is a good worker,’ Rachel agreed. ‘He looks so frail it’s hard to believe he can get through so much, and he’s really patient with Alfie.’
‘I think we may bless the day he came to Glens of Lochandee – so long as Mr Elder does not find a way of wreaking revenge.’
So Rachel’s heart was lighter than usual as she cycled down to the village. Her heart swelled with pride when people praised Ross’s skill with the fiddle. She did not lack for partners
either when the dancing really got going. During a break for refreshment Ross came to find her, smiling broadly.
‘I am glad you are my wife or I think some of these Lochandee men would be claiming you,’ he grinned. Rachel blushed at the glint in his eye. She knew that look, knew they would love each other well tonight, however late the hour. She gave him a dimpling smile.
‘If I might interrupt a man flirting with his good wife?’ a gruff voice interrupted. Ross turned and recognised Andrew McNish. ‘We have not seen much of each other to say we are nearly neighbours,’ he boomed. ‘The bloody Factor warned Jim Douglas and me to keep our distance. He wanted Mistress Beattie out o’ The Glens o’ Lochandee but the pair o’ ye have shown him a thing or two.’
‘We manage to keep the place tidy and pay our rent anyway,’ Ross agreed warily. McNish flushed, and gave a forced laugh.
‘A man who can play the fiddle like you wouldna starve, I’ll wager.’
‘Thank you,’ Ross acknowledged mildly. He had little respect for McNish’s haphazard farming methods but he knew he had a reputation for being sociable and fond of a dram.
‘Aye, ye’ll be really part o’ Lochandee now so I reckon you deserve to know what’s going on. Had you heard Elder is trying to sell our corner o’ the estate?’
‘Sell?’ Ross’s face paled.
‘He tried to sell my land and Jim Douglas’s.’
‘But he can’t do that, can he?’
McNish reddened and Ross guessed he was probably owing rent.
‘Elder says the Laird needs the money. There’s rumours he keeps a woman in France as well as his wife in Scotland. Elder says he has authority to raise cash any way he chooses. Glens of Lochandee is one place he’s determined to sell. Give him a dram next time he calls on you. That soon softens him up.’
‘He never calls on us, and I’m not sorry.’
‘He never calls? But how can he make his report and what about repairs?’
‘Repairs! We’ve asked but the estate have not done any since Elder came,’ Ross said coolly. ‘We do our own.’
‘Well, you might get a stay of execution, as they say.’ McNish grinned, eyeing Rachel’s anxious expression. ‘He needs to sell Jim Douglas’s farm and mine before he can sell land in the middle o’ the estate and he’s had no offers so far. I heard two farm sales were cancelled because the tenants hired a clever lawyer frae Lockerbie. Elder couldna prove they were breaking the terms o’ their lease. He lost his case so he sold two other farms instead.’
The Laird of Lochandee Page 24
