God's Highlander

by Thompson, E. V.

Wyatt shook his head. ‘We’re still too far away. I don’t recognise him.’

  ‘I do.’ Alasdair’s voice was filled with foreboding. ‘It’s Hamish Murdoch.’

  For a moment the name meant nothing to Wyatt. Then he remembered: Hamish Murdoch was the Edinburgh physician who had come to examine young Jimmy Gordon.

  The physician’s half-hearted wave when they drew nearer fuelled the fears of the two passengers. They were confirmed when Wyatt stepped ashore and asked about the young patient.

  ‘There was nothing I could do for him.’ Hamish Murdoch’s disconsolate shrug was an expression of the helplessness he felt.

  ‘Is Jimmy … dead?’ Alasdair Burns put the question.

  The physician nodded a reply.

  Alasdair Burns was deeply distressed. He stood with fists tightly clenched for some minutes before he would trust himself to speak. ‘It’s my fault. Had I not been arrested….’

  Hamish Murdoch shook his head vigorously. ‘It’s nobody’s fault. I could have done nothing for the boy had I arrived weeks – or even months – earlier. I made this clear to the child’s mother, and his grandfather. I’ve seen too many children with this particular form of palsy. Far too many. We haven’t yet found a cure. One day, perhaps….’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.’ Wyatt could think of nothing else to say.

  ‘Not entirely wasted.’ The physician reached in a pocket and pulled out a piece of lead shaped like a tiny musket-ball. ‘I extracted this from the leg of a small boy. It’s one you missed, I believe, although you did an excellent job on the others. I examined the boy’s father, too. I’m not an expert on tropical diseases, so there was little I could do to prevent his recurrent fevers. However, the man also has a serious chest complaint, and I fear it will grow worse. I told him he should really move to a place with a more congenial climate. I doubt if he’ll consider my advice. He’s a stubborn Highlander.’

  The Edinburgh doctor threw his bag in the boat. ‘I also treated a number of your people who came to me at the manse with their ailments. Some I was able to help, others I could not. One of the latter was a rather forward young lady named Fraser – Seonaid Fraser. I’m inclined to believe she came to the manse seeking your advice, rather than my medical diagnosis. Be that as it may, the girl’s pregnant.’

  Wyatt called on Janet Gordon before going home to the manse. Angus Cameron and his wife were also in the house, together with a number of villagers who had come to pay their respects to the little boy.

  On the voyage from Glasgow, Wyatt had told Alasdair Burns the villagers had been informed of his past. The schoolteacher was nervous of his reception when he returned to Eskaig. He need not have worried.

  When he asked hesitantly if he might go to the room where Jimmy lay in order to pay his last respects, the grieving mother agreed immediately.

  ‘Of course! You did more than anyone in Eskaig to make Jimmy’s last months happy. He thought the world of you. You’ve suffered for him, too. You’d not have been thrown into prison by the factor had you not gone to Edinburgh for a surgeon. You’ll always have a place at the table in this house, Mr Burns. In every other house in Eskaig, too, I dare say.’

  The nod of agreement from Angus Cameron surprised Wyatt. Highlanders were an unpredictable people. Fiercely independent and frequently scornful of the laws of the land himself, the Highlander was inclined to distrust others who broke the law. Wyatt had anticipated trouble in having Alasdair Burns reinstated as Eskaig’s principal teacher. Janet Gordon’s words, backed up by Angus Cameron’s approval, meant the villagers had accepted Alasdair Burns as one of ‘their own’. He would be free to do as he wished as long as he remained loyal to the closely knit little community.

  It was a great relief. Not having to fight for the teacher’s future left Wyatt free to tackle the many other problems beginning to press in upon him. He carried a letter for Charlotte Garrett from her daughter, explaining why she had left home so hurriedly and giving the reason for the continuing absence of father and daughter. Evangeline trusted the servants to take care of her mother, but Mrs Garrett was unpredictable.

  Wyatt walked to the factor’s home the following morning. He had the funeral of Jimmy Gordon later in the day, but Evangeline had been concerned for her mother. Wyatt had promised to deliver the letter personally at the very earliest opportunity.

  For once Wyatt walked along the edge of the loch without either noticing the beauty of his surroundings or pausing to admire the soaring eagles crying to each other as they maintained a hunter’s vigil above the surrounding mountains.

  Wyatt was thinking of the duty he had to perform later in the day. A funeral was always a sad occasion. That of a child such as Jimmy Gordon, who had experienced so few of God’s blessings during his young life, particularly so. Doubtless the young boy who had suffered such affliction in this life would reap a just and welcome reward in heaven. Unfortunately, few grieving parents gained immediate comfort from the promise of heavenly riches when God had withheld so much from their young child in this world. Wyatt admitted he did not always understand God’s workings, but he had a faith that could accept even those things he found confusing.

  The door to the Garrett house was opened to Wyatt by the same dour, heavily built servant who had greeted him on earlier visits. She had never been unduly impressed by the presence of a visiting minister of the Church, and this morning was no different. Before he had time to utter a greeting, she said: ‘The factor’s not at home, and if it’s Miss Evangeline you’re after, then you probably know more of her whereabouts than we do.’

  The servant’s unwelcoming words were accompanied by such a sniff of disapproval that Wyatt was left in no doubt about her opinion of him.

  ‘I’m here to deliver a letter to Mrs Garrett, to tell her about Evangeline and her father.’

  ‘Who is it, Binnie? Don’t stand there with the door open. It’s costing a fortune to heat the house as it is. Send them about their business.’ The shrill voice of Charlotte Garrett came from the top of the stairs leading from the hall behind the servant.

  Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated expression of overstretched patience, the servant’s large bosom heaved a great sigh and she turned back into the house.

  ‘It’s the minister from Eskaig. He says he’s got news of the master and Miss Evangeline.’

  ‘Tell him my husband’s not in the house at the moment and I don’t know when he’ll be back. He must try again this evening – and send Evangeline to my room. She’s to stop hiding from me. She knows how it upsets me.’

  Charlotte Garrett’s voice was shrill and complaining. There was something more in the voice, too….

  Wyatt stepped past the servant into the hall. Charlotte Garrett stood at the top of the stairs dressed in her nightdress, over which she was wearing an old jacket. Her hair was so untidy it could not have come in contact with a hair-brush for many days.

  ‘It’s me, Mrs Garrett. Minister Jamieson. I’ve brought you a letter from Evangeline. She asked me to deliver it to you personally. She and her father have gone to London together, from Edinburgh.’

  ‘Edinburgh? London?’ Charlotte Garrett seemed totally bewildered.

  ‘Will you come down? I’ll explain it to you.’ Wyatt moved to the foot of the stairs and, still confused, Charlotte Garrett descended very slowly.

  The servant had closed the front door. Crossing the hall to stand hardly a pace away from Wyatt, she said: ‘She’s worse than ever this time. She shouldn’t be left alone. The factor knows well enough what she’s like. He should have someone looking after her.’

  Charlotte Garrett reached the hall and gave Wyatt a smile as though he was an invited guest and she suitably dressed to receive him. ‘Shall we go to the breakfast room? There’s a nice fire there. You must be feeling the cold after your journey. Binnie, we’ll have some tea, if you please.’

  Scotland was enjoying an unusually warm late summer, but there was a roaring fire in the large grate
in the breakfast room.

  Charlotte Garrett stood with her back to the fire and beamed at Wyatt. ‘Please take a seat. I’m so sorry John isn’t here to greet you. He won’t be long, I don’t suppose….’ Suddenly a worried expression came to the face of the factor’s wife. ‘I do wish I knew where Evangeline was. She shouldn’t be absent when we have guests. That girl worries me, Minister. Do you have any children of your own?’

  Wyatt shook his head. ‘No … but I’ve brought you a letter from Evangeline. She says you’re not to worry about her. She’s thrilled about going to London and promises to write to you from there.’

  ‘London? No, you must be mistaken. We were talking together only this morning….’ Breaking off the conversation, Charlotte Garrett put a hand to her head. It’s this silly game she’s playing with me. Hiding away. Pretending she can’t hear when I call. I do wish she wouldn’t. She knows how I worry….’

  Suddenly Charlotte Garrett looked at the letter in her hand. Casually she turned, and before Wyatt could prevent her she had thrown it into the flames of the fire.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Minister.’ Charlotte Garrett held a hand to her forehead, her face contorted with pain. ‘Excuse me, please. It’s this headache. Stay for tea…. Evangeline will be here in a moment or two, I’m sure….’

  Charlotte Garrett crossed the room and hurried out through the doorway, almost colliding with the servant-girl who entered carrying a laden tea-tray.

  Clucking her disapproval, the servant put the tray down on a small table.

  ‘How long has Mrs Garrett been like this?’

  ‘As long as I’ve been here – and that’s a sight longer than anyone else. Sometimes she’s worse than others. She’s always at her best when Miss Evangeline’s about. I don’t think that girl believes me when I tell her what her mother’s like sometimes.’

  ‘Has a doctor seen her?’

  The servant gave Wyatt another of her smirks. ‘She’s been seen by half the doctors this side of the border – and a great many on the other side, too. None of ’em has done her any good. She’s some medicine upstairs, but it’s the devil’s own job to get her to take it. Not that it helps her. If you ask my opinion, I’d say that more than anything else she needs a husband to care for her – really care, I mean.’

  ‘Does she have a personal maid?’

  ‘Not any more. Poor Mary was almost as simple as she is. Anyway, she left last week.’

  ‘See if you can find another maid for her from the village. Someone who’ll help with her hair and ensure she dresses properly. I’ll account for what I’ve done to Evangeline when she returns.’

  ‘I don’t mind explaining it to her myself – but it’s that father of hers. You explain it to him.’

  Wyatt did not relish the thought of telling John Garrett why he was interfering in the domestic affairs of the Garrett household, but he nodded. ‘I’ll take care of it. You find a girl – and be sure she understands she’s employed to look after Mrs Garrett. I’ll look in tomorrow to see how things are going.’

  ‘Thank you, ‘Minister.’ It was more civil than the servant had been upon his arrival, but as Wyatt turned towards the door she called him back.

  ‘Minister … if you see that draggletail Fraser girl on the road between here and Eskaig, will you tell her what you know of the whereabouts of the factor?’

  ‘She’s been here seeking him?’

  ‘If I had a sovereign for every time I’ve opened the door to her, I wouldn’t need to work any more. She’s been here three times this past week. She won’t believe me when I say I don’t know when the factor will be back. You tell her; she might take more notice of you.’

  ‘What does she want with John Garrett?’ Wyatt was thinking of what Hamish Murdoch had said before he left Eskaig.

  ‘That’s none of my business.’ Suddenly the plump house-servant gave Wyatt a malicious smile. ‘But if the factor doesn’t return for a month or two I doubt whether you’ll need to ask such a question.’

  Twenty-five

  THE FUNERAL OF Jimmy Gordon was in sharp contrast to that held for centenarian Archibald Mackinnon. It was sober and solemn, and none of the Highland gentry was among the many mourners.

  However, there was no shortage of tears. Genuine grief from his family and young friends from school and village. The graveside service was conducted by Angus Cameron. Tears coursed down the Eskaig elder’s face as he read from the book of Revelation: ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’

  Lining up to commiserate with their colleague and his daughter, the other elders agreed they had never attended a more moving funeral service than the one conducted by Wyatt and Elder Cameron that day.

  Most of the Ross family were at the funeral, and Wyatt thought Mairi would remain behind to speak to him. He looked forward to chatting to her once again. It would be a few moments of pleasure in an otherwise depressing day.

  To Wyatt’s surprise, he saw Mairi walking away along the road with the rest of her family while he was still talking at the graveside.

  By the time the last of the mourners had left the churchyard and Wyatt had caught up with the Ross family they were already on the track leading to their mountain home.

  ‘Mairi … wait! I want to speak to you.’

  ‘If it’s about the books you loaned me, I’ll have one of the boys drop them in at the manse when they next come to the village.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with your lessons….’

  Magdalene Ross said something in a low voice to her husband. He gave a nod to Mairi, and the remainder of the family began to walk on along the path.

  For a moment it seemed Mairi would follow them, and Wyatt said hurriedly: ‘I thought you’d stop and talk a while to me, back there.’

  Mairi shrugged. ‘I didn’t think it was right. Not at Jimmy’s funeral….’

  Mairi blinked rapidly, and Wyatt saw she was close to tears. ‘Anyway, you had lots of your friends around you. I was surprised your precious Evangeline wasn’t there, too.’

  Wyatt frowned. ‘I’m sure she would have come, had she not been away. She was very fond of Jimmy. We all were. But what has Evangeline to do with anything?’

  ‘After you both went off in a boat to Glasgow together I thought you probably couldn’t bear to be parted – or wasn’t she all you expected her to be? Perhaps you’ll be trying someone else now.’ Mairi’s scorn should have shrivelled him. ‘And you a minister, too. It’s a fine example you’re setting, I must say.’

  ‘Mairi Ross, I do believe you’re jealous.’ Wyatt spoke quietly, but he found it difficult to keep the pleasure he felt from showing in his voice. Mairi would not show jealousy unless she really cared for him. She was hurt by what she believed to be his duplicity.

  ‘Jealous? You have a very high opinion of yourself, Minister Jamieson. Why should I be jealous, for goodness’ sake? Because I let you kiss me? If I were jealous of everyone who did that, I’d never have time to attend to anything about the croft and Pa would soon want to know all about it. Jealous indeed!’

  ‘You’re jealous, Mairi Ross, and it pleases me that you should be. Yet you have no cause. Certainly not where Evangeline Garrett is concerned.’

  ‘Oh? Are you saying you didn’t go off to Glasgow in Donald McKay’s boat with her, when I heard Donald McKay himself say so on his very next trip?’

  ‘I caught the boat from Eskaig, yes, but no one was more surprised when she boarded the same boat at Corpach….’

  Main’s snort of derision would have been the envy of Binnie, John Garrett’s house-servant.

  ‘I was even more surprised when I learned we were both going to Edinburgh for the same reason. To have Alasdair Burns released from gaol.’

  There was no derision in Mairi’s expression when she spoke again. ‘It was her father had Burns put in prison. Why should she want to
help him get out?’

  ‘Perhaps for the same reason you’re so upset at the thought of me going off with Evangeline Garrett.’

  Mairi coloured up, but there was no anger in her now. ‘As I said before, you have too high an opinion of yourself, Wyatt Jamieson. If I’m pleased that there’s nothing between you and that Garrett girl, it’s for your sake. She’s not for you. Her father will be nothing but trouble for any man who marries her.’

  ‘I’ll pass your warning on to Alasdair.’

  ‘I must catch up with the family now. I have work to do at home.’

  ‘I’ll call in to see you tomorrow. I’ll be coming to visit Seonaid Fraser and her father.’

  Mairi’s manner underwent another rapid change.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m the pastor here. I like to visit all my parishioners as often as I can.’

  ‘The news that she’s carrying Garrett’s bastard hasn’t taken long to reach you.’

  Her words jolted Wyatt. It seemed Hamish Murdoch was not the only person to recognise her condition.

  ‘If she’s in trouble, I must see what I can do to help.’

  ‘Seonaid’s never been short of men ready to help her when she’s wanted them.’ Mairi’s next words explained much of her bitterness. ‘She’s got young Donnie staying at her house to help with the chores and the animals. Don’t tell Pa you’ve been to visit them when you come to the cot tomorrow. He’s barred Donnie from coming home for as long as he’s carrying on with Seonaid.’

  ‘I’ll have a chat with Donnie and see what I can do.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mairi laid a hand on Wyatt’s sleeve for a moment. ‘Tell Donnie to get word to me if he needs anything. Tell him … he’ll always be my favourite brother, whatever happens.’

  Wyatt called at the factor’s house before heading into the mountains. Charlotte Garrett looked better than she had on his previous visit, although she was still confused about the absence from the house of her husband and daughter. Binnie had succeeded in finding a girl from Corpach village to work as Charlotte Garrett’s personal maid. She seemed a sensible girl, and Wyatt felt happier when he left the factor’s house this time.